Junk Miles

 WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA??  Geez. Gee wilakers. Jiminy christmas.   hhhwWHAt?     Welp. I need a beer.      

 Like Christ himself I was tempted in the desert; alone in a Ross Dress for Less, the dark lord accosted me. Not with the promise of power, nor of status, nor even of wealth. Well, not exactly of wealth. Quite the opposite, really.   Satan beset me with 70% off.  I had walked into the wasteland in search of a running quarterzip. My beloved Team Blitz QZ had, alas, been misplaced in a cross-town move some eighteen months prior and I was only now admitting to myself that it was lost, or at least would only return to me on a timeline all its own. I was here  specifically  for a quarterzip,  specifically  one to run in. And even more specifically, I was here for a deal.  After warming up with a once-over of the shoe section (plenty of deep-discount Dragonflies, Zoomflies, and KC Chiefs-branded Peg 41s, if you're curious), I set to work on the "Active Outerwear" aisle. And there it was: My personal trolley problem.  A 2025...

As I’m sure many of you watched live (some of you maybe even in-person), this year’s Boston Marathon was a wild one. I mean damn. Rather than attempting some sort of coherent write up at the end of the race, I kept a minute-by-minute (and hopefully still coherent) log of my thoughts throughout the race. Enjoy! *** 9:48 — Des! 10:23 — Thinking about armwrestling Marcel Hug and wondering if he would completely break my wrist or just destroy a few tendons 10:25 — Keep singing “Hendrik Pfeiffer that white gold” to myself in a terrible Bruno Mars voice; shout out to working from home I guess 10:37 — Never been a huge Clayton Young guy but I gotta respect the highfive-maxxing. Get this man in a spirit tunnel!! 10:41 — Eden Rainbow-Cooper would definitely break my wrist. She wouldn’t mean to, but she would. Good for her! 10:42 — Dakotah!!! 10:45 — Citius just mentioned that Korir runs 160+ miles a week and I’m just sort of sitting with that 10:48 — OK king! 10:50 — Guy holding up a “FREE...

Folks! Good to see you again. In a month I’ll be marking four years since my college graduation. That’s four years since I said goodbye to NIRCA eligibility; four years since running (plodding, really) for Team Blitz at William & Mary. Everyone I ran with is graduated and gone. My name is naught but a footnote, a strange face peering forth from a Strava page long-defunct1. I’m still not a math guy, but I think my stats hold up on this one: I’m old now. I’m not writing this to get misty about the glory days or to philosophize about the unceasing rush of time or to complain about my various back problems. The back pain persists, but I’ve got a few more decades before I’m allowed to start yelling at clouds. Still, things have changed since ‘22. Okay, enough beating around the bush: Reasonably Speedy’s getting a rebrand. I still love NIRCA and love keeping up with what’s happening (We’re running 3:52 1500s now?? That’s what we’re doing??), but I’ve now fully transitioned from participa...