Postponed both games of the double header. The tarp has been down all day. Rain delay. Rain out theatre.
It’s obvious I need new windshield wipers. Today it should be called a rainshield.
Auto-correct is questioning “rainshield.” It’s my new word. I made it up. Perhaps “windshield” would have been questioned in 1911. And so would the words Auto-correct if they existed back then too. Back to weather.
Drizzle, downpour, pelting, misting, in buckets, like cats and dogs, sideways, we need it, we don’t need it, we always need it.
Play through it, run through it, game cancelled, late start, once the game starts it’s up to the umpires to call it.
Suits my mood.
Listening to Chet Baker all day. You could look it up.
This weekend marks the first time since 2005, save one year, that I have not run in either the half or full marathon in Philadelphia. Seven fulls, two halfs ( or is it halves?) and one year off – I think the math works. If not I blame someone else.
I wonder how I’ll feel this Sunday morning at 7am when I used to be standing and shivering at in my corral at Eakins Oval waiting for the start and wondering how the rest of the day and 26 miles would turn out.
I know I’ll miss coming up over that rise at 26 and seeing, hearing, smelling and sensing the finish line. I’ll miss the pure joy and elation of crossing the finish line mats and having that medal placed over my head.
Mostly I think I’ll miss the feeling of being happily exhausted and the sense of accomplishment that comes with traversing 26 miles on a cool November Sunday morning.
I won’t miss slogging through June, July, August, September, October and November trying to bank miles. 26 miles in one day is the easy part I always tell people. It’s June, July, August, etc… that is the hardest part of running a marathon.
There is something about the muscle aches and bone tired weariness that seemed to be as welcomed like an old friend, someone I had a date with once a year that I will miss.
But now those days are gone by my choice. I run to maintain my sanity because running to train for a marathon is insanity. So I guess I kinda miss being insane.
We’ll see how long this feeling lasts because there’s always next year and maybe sanity is overrated.
