i've been sitting on some feelings and haven't really done anything about them for a long while.
broad street came and went, and although it was not a banner year, essentially, I ran an 87 minute ten mile race for something i did not train for. and i wasn't even sore afterward. and yes, i'm an asshole for this. sorry.
i don't recommend this method, but i told myself at the start of the race that i had already done 16.2 miles, and i needed these next ten to just get me through to the finish. there was discussion on the ride up among the usual suspects that none of us had decided to bust out a PR this year and that was that. we had already given up. i sortied to the start fashionably late for my impressively early gate assignment ... (which i had earned fair and square the previous year, mind you) and sloshed through the raining course, grabbed my metal and silently went with my buddies to the car to go home- all vowing to return the following year with a game plan and proper prior planning.
it wasn't a bad winter. in typical fashion, decided to winter at my usual haunt in Antigua with indeterminate plans to take up residence in Palma so Owen could be with his father on Lionheart- as Ayds and I were getting on unusually well, short lived as it was... but as it was, the northeast United States was having a banner winter, so I decided to see where things lead on a different front, and enliven my weeks with someone unapologetically not a mariner and therefore a breath of fresh air to a drowning person. I was surprised that it made even the least bit of sense honestly. It wasn't my original designs, or even an idea i entertained in the back of my mind, but life often leads us to all the best places completely by chance... i've learned this enough to not ignore what will most potentially be an incredible thing.
