I get an hour long lunch at work and on most days I use the second thirty minutes to walk around the couple of blocks that surround the library, sort of a way to decompress and recharge for the last half of the day.

On Wednesday, June 20th as I was making my way back to work along the sidewalk on Greenwood Street I come upon a gentleman cutting branches off of a tree. A man of small-ish stature with wire-rimmed glasses, he reminded me of someone you'd call a "poindexter" - or in this case, an older poindexter down on his luck. Utilizing a pole chain saw (a small chain saw with a pole attached in order to reach limbs out of normal reach), he seemed quite busy and unaware I was headed toward him. The sidewalk was littered with branches he had already cut, so I had planned to just walk into the street to go around.

Just as I veer off of the sidewalk a squeaky, high-pitched voice comes from behind the brush pile, "Hey there!" A little startled since I didn't know him and hadn't realized he noticed I was there, I look over and return his friendly connection - "Hello! How are you?" I figured following his lead with a standard greeting on this warm, sunny afternoon would be appropriate, I would then continue on to the library. A simple plan, Yes...but it was not carried out in a simple manner.

My return of his friendly greeting had, apparently, given him permission to dig into his fun-filled repertoire of too much information. I have yet to notice him actually look at me, but he immediately hijacked my lunch stroll as he looked back up into the tree to continue the manicuring and conversing, "You know these things (the pole chain saw) make it so much easier to get this done." I haven't stopped walking and have now passed by him, though I'm looking in his direction and smiling...common courtesy it is to feign interest...right?

Without so much as a pause, he goes on, "This way I won't be able to kill anybody else." Following his lead, I pretend to chuckle, but then...wait...what..."anybody else"? Having now stopped, and curious, I wonder if he just simply misspoke. I had no intention of actually asking about his choice of words, but even if I did, I wouldn't have had to. His Syrup of Ipecac-like induced verbal vomit provided me with all I didn't want to know.

"You know that accident in front of Smith Clinic (now called: OhioHealth Marion Area Physicians) a couple of years ago? Yup, that was me," he says in manner indicating he wasn't proud of this dubious stigma and shaking his head in a negative fashion. I reply with "Oh, yeah?," to signify my sort of occupied attention, but my mind is wandering as to what I accident he is referring to. The only one I can come up with was from 2014 where a rear end collision resulted in three people being unable to get out of their car as it burst into flames.

In this accident, the culprit - according to witnesses - began driving erratically about two to three hundred yards before the collision, swerving across lanes and glancing off of other cars while slumped up against the steering wheel. People say it seemed like the driver was somehow in distress. Ultimately, the car he was driving drifted into a turn lane and drove straight into an SUV waiting to make a left hand turn. A fiery mess ensued and for about a year afterward, before the pavement was repaired, the spot where the accident took place was marked by the melted asphalt where the SUV had been.

Telling myself it had to be another accident he was speaking of, he offers more nuggets of unwanted knowledge, "It wasn't my fault? It was the seizures, can you believe I got 57 days in jail for that?!"

"Um...no...that's...that's just...crazy," as I stare in disbelief, forcing my best fake smile and just as dumbfounded as he seemed to be - but for opposite reasons. I'm now slowing walking backward, away from the chainsaw wielding man who suffers from seizures. "Well, I'm on my lunch break and have to head back to work," I say throwing my escape plan into high gear - and now in a dead sprint - I vaguely remember "Mr. Cutty-cutterson" say something like, "Well, have a good day."

Awww, what a nice thing to say. It is impossible to do so now, but thanks.

Completely weirded out, once back at work my cat-like curiosity drove me to dig a little. Typing in something like "Smith Clinic Fatal Accident" on my desktop, I scroll and down and click on this Marion man sentenced in crash that killed family of 3. Astonished, I see a photo of a familiar bespectacled man in a suit - IT'S HIM! It's the chainsaw seizure guy from just down the street! This WAS the accident I was thinking of and he WAS the culprit.

He apparently had a long resume of traffic violations and accidents previous to this one and, luckily, no longer has driving privileges. It was amazing to me at how flippant he was about his past transgression and even more taken back at his frustration with spending more time than he thought he should have behind bars for causing three people to - more or less - burn alive inside of their car. I don't know about you, but this isn't story you should share with your house pets, let alone random strangers...worst...fireworks...ever.

Independence Day, July 4th, America's Birthday or what most kids refer to as midsummer (because stupid school starts in August) and we celebrate with cookouts, food, fireworks and a race! This year's day of home pyrotechnics would include the Westerville Rotary July 4th 5K. Having covered some goals with the longer races recently, why not go back to those shorter ones to see if I can improve on those!?

With Traffic Panther Teammate (and fellow 40 something) Gary having broken the 18:00 minute 5K barrier in recent weeks for the first time in years, I was a little jealous and have been super close to doing the same. I haven't run a 5K in under 18:00 since my college running days - going on 20 years. Why couldn't I do that here?

Our route would be a loop, starting and finishing at Alum Creek North Park just off Main Street. The course will go counter clockwise from Main St. to Collegeview to Cooper and Schrock Roads, concluding along the bike path to the park. As of late it has been silly hot & humid and this day was no different. The kind of day where you get instantly covered in a sticky, wet film of moisture the moment you step outside. As the 8:00 a.m. start time edges closer, it is already 80 degrees, at least we wouldn't be in direct sunlight...if that made any difference.

At the gun we seem to be going at a pretty good clip and I'm warm & loose, then weirdness jumps into the picture. Just before we turn left onto Main Street, a blue figure appears next to me. This dude is dressed as Captain America and I don't mean casually. He is completely decked out, head to toe, in an adult Halloween Captain America costume - with headgear, gloves, shield and all.

I believe this guy just jumped in at this point as a gag and for some photo op since it was Independence Day, the correlation wasn't lost. Getting closer to the turn he is just ahead of me, but not enough to have a clear path to move in - but that didn't stop him. Unable to see exactly where he's going due to his costume's stupid headgear, he moves in to make the turn and clips my right foot. Both us begin to stumble while among a crowd of runners as we are maybe 200 meters in.

Trying to utilize my momentum to regain stability (and not face-plant on the asphalt below) my arms are swinging wildly. Captain jerk off....er...America....is doing the same, but has less of a handle on his momentum. I reach out and grab the waist of his costume in hopes of keeping myself upright, from running him over and make his landing less painful. He is nearly perpendicular - arms swinging wildly - so his crashing to the ground was inevitable. A moment later and to the ground he goes, his Captain America Shield clanging on the street as if a distress signal summoning the rest of Marvel's The Avengers for assistance. Despite his stop, drop and roll - which I'm sure didn't feel great - the costume and shield had to have protected him from any big time injury and he did so without impeding any other runner.

Despite one of his feet flying up and catching my inner thigh (just missing some super important physical attachments), I caught my balance and continued on without another hiccup. "Every time...how does goofy crap like this happen EVERY TIME," is what I'm thinking to myself. Annoyed, but feeling good otherwise, I'm in a mix of 10 to 15 runners and we reach the first mile marker/water station. I grab a cup of water and dump most of it down the back of my neck as it is crazy humid, I'm in at 5:43. Wow...I'm going fast, but it doesn't feel like it and L is there throwing out some encouragement.

Winding around and making the return trip along the bike trail, we have spread out a bit and despite a couple of speedsters, everyone is reasonably within striking distance of each other. Just before mile marker number two, a dude about 15 yards in front of me slows down and drifts to the side of the paved trail. Turning his head, he starts to hack like a cat needing to evacuate a hairball.

"Oh god," I thought, "he's dry heaving!" Growing up as the worst sympathetic vomiter ever, I have been able to get it under control, sort of. Pretending not to hear (or see) him try to force-stop a heat-induced upchuck, I focus on my breathing technique (and keep my mind occupied, repeating "puppies & kittens, puppies & kittens!" over and over.) He eventually, successfully, held off his body's attempt to turn itself inside out and continued to - somehow - be faster than I.

The second mile marker/water station arrives and another cup of water goes down my back and the second mile comes in at 6:24. Much slower than the first mile, but I'm not sure how. I don't feel like I've slowed down that much and seem to have maintained an excellent stride, but apparently not. And I'm not the only one, the humidity and thick, sticky air has slowed all of us down.

Before long, I start to hear the cheers for those finishing and there is still no sign of Captain America. I'm assuming he realized his mistake or just simply melted in the Independence Day inferno we were running in. Back to Main Street and turning the same corner where I killed the superhero, I glide into the finish and see I'm over the 19 minute mark. I'm 13th overall and first in my age group with a 19:29. Not a horrible time for me, but I can't wrap my head around at how slow the times were despite feeling like we were going much faster. My last mile was a 6:29, which would be great - for me - if this were a 10K or longer.

I grab some water and down it instantly. Shortly thereafter, it began. My body started secreting sweat profusely. The humidity had encased our bodies in such a thick atmospheric blanket that all we could do was watch the liquid push itself through our porous outer layer. You could see all of the finishers standing in pools of collected sweat on the ground as it dripped like a soaked dish towels. Now, I'm been hot before and have experienced heat, but this kind of humidity was beyond ridiculous.

It was a smaller race, so there weren't any finisher'so medals of any kind, which made sense. Though, my reward for winning my age group was a Fleet Feet gift card. After replenishing the gallons of sweat I lost and putting on a less disgusting shirt, L and I ate breakfast at Northstar Cafe in nearby Uptown Westerville - the Prosciutto Toast & Eggs hit the spot. Though, my breakfast came out about two minutes after L's and I thought nothing of it because mine seemed to arrive almost immediately thereafter, but the manager came out to us and apologized in a near horrified fashion. She was sorry for "my wait" and said, "Your next visit will be on us. Again, I'm sorry," and handed each of us a gift card. We hadn't even thought about it, but if what took place wasn't up to their standards, then kudos to them and bully for us!

We ate and watched as folks set up their chairs, then sat and waited, along the sidewalk on State Street for the Independence Day Parade which didn't start for another three a hours. Geez folks, go have a beer or something.

Anyway, I now will put some effort into working on my best one mile sprint as the next stop on the tour is the Columbus Running Company Mile Dash on July 14th. I would love to break the five minute barrier, which I haven't done for about 20 years and Traffic Panther Teammate Gary will be joining with the same goal. Just a couple of guys hoping to experience one of few remaining glances at that ever evaporating fountain of youth...or something like that.

So here we are at the height of summer, in all it's sweltering glory. This is the time where "wants" and "needs" are typically won or lost - sweating the details, the humidity, sticky summer nights, backyard barbecues and patio lounging while looking through rose-colored with a cold drink in your hand. This, my friends, is gold...

Chet Faker - Gold

You gotta know, I'm feeling love
Made of gold, I never loved her
Another one, another you
It's gotta be love I said it

You gotta know, I'm feeling love
You gotta know, I'm feeling love

You gotta know, I'm feeling love
Made of gold, I never loved her
Another one, another you
It's gotta be love I said it

I might as well be in a garden
I said, ah a smell in the air is a dripping rose (you could be the one for me)
Another soul to meet my void then
Of anything bare that's made of gold

A physical kiss is nothing without it
And you close your eyes to see what it's done
The body that lies is built up on looking
'Cause all that remains before it's begun

You gotta know, I'm feeling love
Made of gold, I never loved her
Another one, another you
It's gotta…

We had a large garden in the house I grew up in and portions of the summer for my siblings and I were taken up by picking five gallon buckets of green beans as part of our chores. Man, did that suck. In the sun and humidity of Southern Ohio farm country, you could feel the sauna-like heat emanating from the massive cornfield that abutted our backyard. Do you know how long it takes to fill up a five gallon bucket with green beans....eons...EEE-OONSS!

As an adult, I don't mind playing in the garden. Though, most of the past few years my summer garden would grow wild - but nothing would produce fruit. A cruel joke on me as I put in the effort with no return other than piece of mind. I did, however, get my hop bines to produce enough to for one batch of homebrew. I'm assuming the poor soil at my apartment was the culprit behind my lack of garden production. Either that, or the f-ing green bean gods were just giving the finger for despising them as a child.

This summer, at the new place in Delaware, L and I have full reign of the large yard attached to our duplex. I don't know what the major difference may be, but holy crap....I could bury the tire iron in the trunk of my car and a seedling would somehow sprout. Nearly everything we've planted - flowers, beans, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant - has jumped out of the ground, celebrating freedom like someone who just broke out of prison. Even those same hop bines (dug up and taken with us during the move) are two times larger than the same period just one year ago.

Everything grows by bounds on a daily basis and having neighbors who aren't numbskulls (like my former place in Marion) meant we would have a number of folks to share the bounty with. Having planted some things around an old tree stump and our place having been a single family dwelling at one time are likely the reason the soil is much more fertile here. It isn't an old apartment building with a yard the size of a postage stamp surrounded by asphalt.

THIS, now, FEELS like summer to me: hot, humid, a large backyard with a firepit and within walking distance of civilization.

And with the arrival of the Summer Solstice this week, what better way to break the heat and humidity seal by running a half marathon? On Father's Day, L and I traveled about 45 minutes south to the west side of Columbus for the Hilliard Classic Half Marathon 10K 5K. I ran a race related to this event last year, but it was called "THE" It's NOT the Hilliard Classic Half Marathon, 10K & 5K and it was held at Alum Creek State Park. Apparently, portions of the route used for the previous year's event was under construction which forced moving the event to another location - hence, the name.

So, here in 2018, the event returned to it's original location

With the temperature expected to hit 90-plus, it was nice to know the 7 am start would be much cooler...but for how long? And the Central Ohio humidity lately has forced your body to secrete perspiration and drip like a soaked sponge - that's what I get for signing up at the last minute. We would begin at the stadium at Hilliard Bradley High School and trek out & about along a 6.6 mile spiral before making a u-turn, returning from whence we came.

It was already 75 and humid at the gun. We would be free from direct sun (which was big red ball of in the distance at the time) for only so long. There was a small group of us who ventured out front as we circled the Hilliard Bradley Campus, among them was a Hilliard Bradley student in full track uniform along with a Hilliard Davidson athlete donning his school's track get up. The Bradley student was of the chatty sort, mentioning we had a good group and this was his second half marathon and asking us what our best half times were. I answered a few times, but then just ignored him. You could hear everyone's watch beep as the first mile marker was reached. Talky-talkerson then points out that at this 6:20 pace, we all would easily break the 1:30:00 barrier. Right then I thought if he were to keep yammering, I would have to kidney punch him.

Before reaching the first public roadway, a gentlemen sped up from behind to take the lead. It didn't take him long to leave us way behind.Through the second mile, the two Hilliard athletes tagged along with me and we pass L throwing out some encouragement. Shortly thereafter the Bradley student fell back (ha! No more talking!). The Davidson athlete was right with me to the first water stop and when the mile three marker came upon us he drifted back. "Good luck man," he forced out as I began pulling away. I didn't answer, but instead I stuck my hand out behind me and he high-fived me. Now on a long straight stretch I focus on the lead and can only hear the sound of my own breathing.

We soon turn into an area in the midst of major housing development construction, following roads and roundabouts that have yet to see houses. Just before mile five I come upon a water station along the bike path we are about to turn down. With tables on each side of the path I push out at breathy, "Gatorade!?" The two ladies on the left side (holding cups of water to pass out) point to the table on the right side with a gentleman standing next to it. By this time I'm nearly passed it and reach to maybe grab a cup, but he is just standing off to side watching. The table is now completely behind me and rather than stop and go back to get cup, I wave at the table in disgust and keep on. I hear the ladies then say something to him like, "You are supposed to hand them the cup!?"

Suddenly I hear some heavy footsteps behind me, the kind where one would figure the person running is still learning how to run. The figure pulls even with me, but at the turnaround I drift in front. I can tell it is a younger dude and I'm using his following to keep my pace on track. Passing the same water stop moments later, the guy is now holding out the cup for me - but he's holding it like Superman would hold a rock of Kryptonite, with the ends of his fingers. Just as I reach it grab it, he lets go. It bounces off the ends of my fingers and the Gatorade hits the ground. You have got to be kidding me. I say nothing audibly, but in my mind I'm cursing him and quite perturbed. We continue along the bike path, running past a vast waste land of development to come. By this time the lead is so far out front that the kid and I now have our own bike escort.

Following the bike escort we delve deeper into the development construction area and watch as the lead (making his return trip) runs past us like we're walking. We cross a street lined with cones and pass a few onlookers, then suddenly the bike lead slows and turn, heading back towards us. I don't see any turnaround sign and he doesn't say anything, so I ask, "Is this the turnaround?" "Yes, it is", he says. I turn and take a good four to five steps before the onlookers we had just passed say, in a surprised fashion, "No..No..the turnaround is further down!" A little ticked, "Well, F***" was the phrase that came from my mouth out of frustration. I turn back around to notice the kid didn't turn, he continued on and now has a good 10 to 15 yard lead. The escort rides back passed me, saying "I'm sorry man."

About 200 yards later comes the ACTUAL race turn around. The kid, who made it there before I did, runs by me and the bike lead drifts by as well. "I'm sorry as hell as man", he says as I'm now running the opposite direction. Not that the escort is to blame, but this is where I started to crash a little bit. I was frustrated and the mind games came in to play. Slowly the kid drifted further away as the heat began to set in. We return to that goofy water station and this time there is also a girl on the Gatorade side, here I point to her and successfully grab the cup she's holding and.....it's water. Sure, the water was great to sip and douse myself, but I was looking for a sports drink - a sugar and sodium concoction of some kind.

Down the shaded bike path segment, I feel a bit stronger and gain slightly on the kid. We turn and come back up the incline and it is that water station again. I purposefully stay to the left to reach the Gatorade and head straight for that guy. Here he is holding a cup of colorful liquid and I smile, grab it successfully and take a swig - finally some damn sports drink: fourth time is the charm! That kid, though, kept cranking along and just beyond the mile nine marker he has a good quarter mile ahead. I'm starting to succumb to the humidity and it reminds me of my first half marathon attempt last September in Celina when it was 90 and full sun for the last five to six miles.

I keep chugging along and focus on landmarks as I go to stay on course, but I can tell I have slowed significantly. Running alone with no one around kind of takes the effort down a notch and it hit me hard. I grab water offered by an onlooker and dumped it down my back. Soon, I see L again and she, too, hands me the water she has and I do the same as the previous water offering.

I reach the school again and make my way along the course winding around the campus. Into the stadium and around the track, I hear the announcer confirm that I'm the third place finisher. Finally reaching the end, I stop my watch and see I'm in at 1:32:54. Not an awful time at all, but nearly five minutes slower than the New Moon race a couple of weeks before. The winner finished ahead of me by ten minutes and the kid had me by three full minutes. That last 5K, for me, was a struggle.

Hanging out for a little while to recover, downing gallons of water and watching the rest of the field make their way in, I dig a little bit and discover the kid who ran away from me was all of 17. Geez, I couldn't imagine being 17 and running a sub 1:30:00 half marathon. Until this past April, I couldn't imagine myself doing that at all. Now if I can just learn to pace myself a little better or focus more on my race, blocking those insignificant distractions from my mind.

I'm not sure what is next, probably a four-miler or 5K somewhere around the Fourth of July, we shall see. Breaking the 18:00 minute 5K barrier for the first time since my college days would be fun to do, Traffic Panther Teammate Gary did just that a week ago and I'm jealous. This running thing has finally become fun again.

This past Friday night, L and I lit up our firepit loaded with all the discarded woody remnants tossed from various trees surrounding our yard the last few weeks. It was giant pile and the fire was a small inferno for a few minutes before coming down to Earth enough for us to roast some hot dogs and marshmallows. We had a great time and for a summer that's just beginning, it was refreshing and exciting.

It is cool to know that more and better things are on the horizon - this....I believe...

The Bravery - Believe

The faces all around me they don't smile they just crack
Waiting for our ship to come but our ships not coming back
We do our time like pennies in a jar
What are we saving for, what are we saving for

There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins
The drinking never stops because the drinks absolve our sins
We sit and grow our roots into the floor
But what are we waiting for? What are we waiting for?

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe
And I need something more
To keep on breathing for
So give me something to believe

Something's always coming you can hear it in the ground
It swells into the air
With the rising, rising sound
And never comes but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors
What are we waiting for, what are we waiting for

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe
And I need something more
To keep on breathing for
So give me something to believe

I am hiding from some beast
But the beast was always here
Watching without eyes
Because the beast is just my fear
That I am just nothing
Now its just what I've become
What am I waiting for
It's already done

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe
And I need something more
To keep on breathing for
So give me something to believe

Don't blink, it is now June and we are marking two full months at our place in Delaware. A week after running the New Moon Half Marathon in our new hometown, and hosting a number of friends afterward, L and I are attempting to figure out how one guest hasn't figured out the invitation to the post race bash didn't mean you could keep visiting everyday.

As most of our guests left Saturday night and a few neighbors remained, out of the darkness comes a black cat gallivanting over to us. It was very friendly, wanted to play, chased moths & lightning bugs and made itself at home. We, and our visiting neighbors, had never seen it before. It hung out with us until we decided to call it a night. The neighbors left, we cleaned up and went to bed. The cat, however, stayed...and made sure we were aware ALL NIGHT LONG. It sat outside our bedroom window, on a table in the carport, meowing sometime nearly every hour.

At times, I thought it was attempting to talk to me. It would meow, like a non-demon cat, about twice - then the third one would be more deep and slower, like it was getting frustrated "Hey, I know you can hear me humans!!" It came out with such a draw, it seemed to be trying to manufacture syllables, even conjugate. Imagine a human evolving from grunts and moans to word like sounds, but not quite there yet. Instead of a standard feline sound, it had inflection with more of an "R" sound. The "ROWLrrrROWL" made you think of someone attempting to say "hello" with a mouth full of food.

Lying in bed listening to this, I sort of thought I should go to the window to retrieve some message being delivered to me by a higher power, world beyond ours or from the grave from a since past relative - "Grandma?!? Is that you?!?!" The following morning I jokingly told L it sounded like the cat was trying to say "hello". Her eyes opened wide and through a half chuckle - and nearly spitting out her coffee - exclaims, "I thought the same thing!" It is a cute cat and looks like it is being taken care of...maybe it just needs some friends?

The next two nights, enjoying the weather and in the heat of cutthroat games of Scrabble (we started keeping a running score, I lead L by 13 points and we have over 1,200 a piece right now) - like clockwork - the cat would come back. Chasing insects in the night, keeping us company and looking for affection, it seemed like it just belonged and this was it's home. For obvious reasons, I nicknamed it "Scrabble Cat" and for the past week it casually comes to hang around during the afternoon, as well as the evening, which annoys the bejesus out of our indoor cats: Whiskey & Jameson. We assume Scrabble Cat has seen Whiskey investigating from the window ledge and is simply interested in getting to know her better, not taking "no" for an answer. Jameson isn't so fond of the visitor, he'd rather sleep without the third party annoyance.

Having Scrabble Cat greet me coming and going on each run the last few days helped keep my mind at ease as the 41st Annual HOKA ONE ONE Columbus 10K arrived just eight days after the second place finish at the half marathon in Delaware. At last year's race, I surprised the crap out of myself by placing 55th out of the more than 1,000 competitors (taking 4th in my age group) at 38:46. Having trained for this, and much further distances in the past year, I had to have the upper hand when it came to possibly improving on this finish and time, correct?

The 2018 Columbus 10K route loop is the same as last year's and is one all to familiar to me. It navigates through a section of Ohio's Capital City I used to live in, sort of like a homecoming. We start downtown along the The Scioto Mile river front, travel north through the arena district passing the home of the Cleveland Indian's Triple-A affiliate (Columbus Clippers), Huntington Park, as well as the home of the Columbus Blue Jackets - Nationwide Arena, drifting by Goodale Park, through historic Victorian Village and Harrison West and onto the Olentangy Trail just south of The Ohio State University to turn south and make the return trip to the Promenade at The Scioto Mile.

We couldn't have asked for better weather with it being sunny and cool enough to take along a jacket. It was interesting to be in the corral and see a variety of familiar faces, though, only familiar because I see them at the start of most of the bigger races as well as the finish of those races as I come in after them. And no teammates this time, so I would have to stay within myself and not try to beat the world.

At the gun I'm going a little faster than normal, but I'm not going crazy. Within minutes the lead pack disappears, indicating this year's race is a bit more stacked than last years. The small group I'm hanging with drifts a bit ahead and I'm at 5:47 for the first mile. A bit fast for me, but I want to see how long I can hang with the younger, faster majority I'm commiserating with. The faster folks do their thing and move ahead, but at a slower rate than in the past. I would like to believe it's because I'm doing a better job of holding pace.

Mile two is slower (6:08) and more of where I should be and I'm comfortable. A couple of competitors and I are hanging around in our own little pack, not being passed much but yet not necessarily gaining on anyone either. I'm at 18:48 (6:14) for the 5K split as we hit the Olentangy Trail for the return trip downtown. The sun is much higher in the sky now and the trail provides some shade, but that will soon end. I don't think I'm slowing down all that much, but I'm beginning to see some of those familiar (faster) faces drift by, my mile four is 6:22.

I feel relatively strong, but I'm struggling to keep with the folks who have much more to finish with. We reach the Scioto River and those I've been pacing with start pulling away, I tell myself that's where the 15 to 20 year age difference comes to light - not to mention I just started doing this again 22 months ago. Sticking to my form and stretching my stride as much as I can, mile five is 6:29 and as I see those in front get further away I can't help but feel like I'm in quicksand.

Ignoring others and focusing on my progress the rest of the way, I reach and bypass the lower portion of the promenade to make the turn from the trail onto Rich Street. Alone, I pass L yelling some words of support and cruise to the finish. Just before crossing the line I glance at the clock to my right and reach to stop my watch simultaneously. Sucking air and attempting to down the bottle of water handed to me, I notice my watch has stopped at about what I saw on the clock: 38:17. A 10K PR for me, but being a competitive person (especially with myself), I'm irked at my inability to finish stronger.

Nevertheless, its hard to complain about being 29 seconds faster than last year. And my thinking that this year's race was a bit more stacked was true. I was much faster than in 2017, but finished two spots further back - 57th out of 1,132. As always, it is fun to laugh at how far behind the winner I come in. On this day I was 8:04 behind the winner, so even if I had run just 5.2 miles, instead of the 6.2, he would have still come out ahead. That is just crazy. Though, if it were 1996 - and I was still running at Morehead State - I would have been only about two minutes behind. In other words, he was just lucky.

So, yeah, a half marathon and a 10K on consecutive weekends (8 days apart) along with six days of training in between. That's a lot for my soon-to-be 43 year-old body, but I'm putting in the weight training and plyometrics in hopes of keeping the glue holding me together from getting stale or disintegrating. I don't know if it's actually working, but I'm getting faster and it is exciting being able to compete - at a relatively high level - again. I guess that's what happens when you throw caution into wind.

I don't have any immediate plans for my next race, but that will change soon I'm sure. At the moment I think we are going to simply enjoy the summer as it moves along. No need to sit and let it slip by, we're going to tackle things when they come about. The time for "what ifs" is over: I'm through finding blame, I don't wanna watch and then complain...that is the decision I have made...

The Front Bottoms - "Twin Size Mattress"

This is for the lions living in the wiry broke down frames of my friends bodies
When the flood water comes, it ain't gonna be clear. It's gonna look like mud
But I will help you swim
I will help you swim
I'm gonna help you swim

This is for the snakes and the people they bite
For the friends I've made; for the sleepless nights
For the warning signs I've completely ignored
There's an amount to take, reasons to take more
It's no big surprise you turned out this way
When they close their eyes and prayed you would change
And they cut your hair, and sent you away
You stopped by my house the night you escaped
With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay
You said, "Hey man, I love you but no fucking way"

I'm sure that we could find something for you to do on stage
Maybe shake a tambourine or when I sing, you sing harmonies

This is for the lake that me and my friends swim in, naked and dumb on a drunken night
And it should've felt good but I can hear the Jaws theme song on repeat in the back of my mind
Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face
There are lessons to be learned, consequences for all the stupid things I say
And it is no big surprise you turned out this way
The spark in your eyes, The look on your face
I will not be late

I'm sure we could find something for you to do on stage
Maybe shake a tambourine or when I sing you sing harmonies

I wanna contribute to the chaos
I don't wanna watch and then complain
'Cause I am through finding blame
That is the decision that I have made

She hopes I'm cursed forever to
Sleep on a twin-sized mattress
In somebody's attic or basement my whole life
Never graduating up in size to add another
And my nightmares will have nightmares every night
Oh, every night. Every night

Memorial Day weekend marks the unofficial start to summer and for L & I we will be marking our first summer in our place in Delaware, Ohio. New town, new place, new season and a whole new beginning.

Just because you can refresh everything around you, does not mean the weirdness factor is eliminated. It can, and will, continue and could even get more weird. Like, for example, on Cinco de Mayo (May 5th) on a cool down walk after finishing a post work four mile run I notice a piece of paper on the sidewalk ahead of me. This wouldn't be all that significant except that finding such things are rare in the neighborhood we live in, most of the folks pick up their crap or find the correct location for their trash.

Following my effort to be an adequate neighbor and find the correct location for it, I head in that direction. As I get closer, it looks more like a playing card of some sort. Once I reach it, my thinking was correct - but not only is it a playing card, it has Cards Against Humanity imprinted on the side facing me. I laugh at myself and casually wonder if someone has left it there purposely, and if so, have they left these - randomly - around town as a fun gag?

I look, but don't see any other cards lying around. Eager to see what fun fortune, statement, suggestions, nouns or adjective(s) have been left - I pick up the card. Turning it over with my sweaty fingers, I find: Quivering Jowls. Too funny, though my jowls weren't quivering but I was quite winded - having just returned from running. My mind then wonders as to what sentence I could insert this phrase into or could I develop some sort of running related game combining Card Against Humanity and geocaching?? Either way, it was a fun find at the corner of Liberty & Elmwood Drive.

Later in the week, L stopped to grab Chipotle burritos before heading home. This was on National Teacher Appreciation Day and being a teacher she was given a BOGO burrito certificate. She followed through, though we had a couple of pork tenderloins marinating in the fridge awaiting their date with the smoker grill. If anything, we didn't have to eat everything in one sitting. Leftovers are always scrumptious. Since the burritos don't age all that well, when the tenderloins were nearly done that evening we put the Mexican meat & veggie logs (still swaddled in their commercial tin foil gift wrapping) onto the smoker grill to warm them up - lets say the thermometer was around 200 degrees with indirect heat from the coals and the smoking chips still doing their thing.

We did sample some of the tenderloin because...well...how could we not? They made an even bigger smash for dinner and lunch the following couple of days. ALTHOUGH, those burritos - which had been sitting around for a few hours before being placed on the grill - ended up being completely reheated with a semi-crispy tortilla and an excellent smoky flavor. Hey Chipotle - get your ass in gear and get it done: Smoked Carnitas Burrito !

On May 12th we went up to Lake Erie for the weekend, its just a two hour drive but in regards to weather - we should have traveled hemispheres. It was 80 and sunny in Delaware Saturday afternoon, in Sandusky, Port Clinton, Marblehead & Huron it was 45, overcast, windy with sideways rain as a storm front battered Ohio's north coast and nearby Cedar Point Amusement Park. The lake resembled an ocean as it's waves battered beaches & piers.

We visited some protected marsh lands, wildlife areas and parks as it was World Migratory Bird Day and took in some excellent viewing of fowl you don't see everyday. In between the park visits we stopped by Catawba Island Brewing and sampled a few. The Walleye-P-A is a grapefruit bomb, the Hot Blonde Mango-Habanero Ale is a thirst quencher and the Waterspout Chocolate Oatmeal Stout is worth at two least pints of your time.

After visiting some of Northwest Ohio's excellent natural resources, we then headed off to find our motel and check-in. We were going to be a little late for our schedule time, so L called the motel. The gentleman who answered was in a hurry as he was on his way out the door to take his mom out to dinner for Mother's Day. His solution for us, "No problem, when you get here just go into the office and take whatever room key you like. I'll take care of the paperwork when I come back." Well...a motel run on the honor system, that's a first for us.

After check-in (or key selection I guess you'd say), we crashed for a short time before heading out to dinner. Half asleep, I wake up hearing music coming from the room next door. Not that big of a deal, but some parts of the melody sounded familiar. It was enough for me to wake up and listen harder to the faint tune because I knew it, but couldn't make it out. Then suddenly it hit me and I said to L, "I think that's...that's Endless Love?". I turn to her with this look of why would anyone be listening to this and she returned to me an equally confused stare. Now this would not be so out of the ordinary, if what took place next wouldn't have happened.

Within seconds, we hear a gentleman exit that very room and onto the sidewalk in front of our dwellings and he begins an animated cellphone conversation. Utilizing his wide array of curse words and insults, he tells the person on the other end of the line to not mess with his "baby". As the conversation goes, we are able to decipher that his "baby" was more than likely a girlfriend or significant other. To express to the person on the other end of the line that he REALLY means what he's saying, we hear:

"I don't care about your word. If I CATCH you...if I CATCH you...(expletive, expletive, expletive, etc.)"

...and said repeatedly, without interruption. Then follow by:

"Do you understand me?! I can bench press 350 POUNDS!! I can crush your skull with my bare hands." (also followed by more expletives)

This, too, was repeated over and over - but with a twist. The "bare hands" portion was pronounced with an unusual elongated emphasis - apparently - to show he really, REALLY would like to manually dissect this man's head. So it came out like this, "I can crush your skull with my bare haayynnndds!" We weren't sure if we should laugh or be concerned for our personal safety.

Bewildered, but also starving (since we were in the process of going out to dinner) we listened for our chance to escape without making it (more) awkward. Though, within minutes the frank discussion comes to an end and we hear a door close. We hastily gather our jackets and stumble through the falling drizzle & gathering puddles to the car - all the while hearing the voices of Diana Ross and Lionel Richie serenading us "...Two hearts, Two hearts that beat as one, Our lives have just begun, And forever, I'll hold you close in my arms, I can't resist your charms". The only charm we received out of this was the freshly prepared Lake Erie Perch & Walleye we ate just minutes later at Berardi's.

We have since used the "I can crush your skull with my bare haayynnndds!" saying as an inside joke among us and our friends. No matter what it is, just remember, "I can crush your skull with my bare haayynnndds!"

With the new and weird comes some familiarity, I guess you could say. We have a new place, but Memorial Day weekend also meant the return of the New Moon Half & Quarter Marathon, Crescent Moon 5K in Delaware. I ran the quarter marathon portion of this race last year and crashed in the humidity of the late afternoon race, but that was when I was still living in Marion. I now live in Delaware and have since April Fool's Day (seriously) and better yet, I have been running on portions of the race route for the last two months - familiarity brings success, no?! At least that's what I tell myself and to change it up a little bit, instead of running the quarter marathon again, I decided to run the half marathon portion.

Following my PR and 57th place finish last month at the CapCity Half Marathon, I was hoping to continue that success on a course which ate me alive in 2017. It is a 6.6 mile-ish course and for the half marathon, we would be taking the loop twice. Unlike the half I ran in April, this one is not as flat and has it's fair share of more dramatic inclines. The most fun part of this route is that it circles the block I now live on. It is weird to think I ran this course last year, unaware that 52 weeks later I would - essentially - be residing on it. My plan, this year, was to run this race as if it were my own.

The day began with an overcast sky as I had to work, but cut out at 3pm in order to not have to rush and relax for a short time before the 6pm start time. I ran part of the route the night before just to get some work in and the humidity was killer. It was expected to be the same on this day with a chance of afternoon showers, which could multiply the humidity factor. A number of my Buck Fifty Traffic Panther's Teammates would be joining me and would gather at our place after the race to grill out and down some suds. This, I thought, could be motivation when (or if) the heat made my mind wander off course.

As luck would have it, a storm cell rolled in right around 5:15 and the skies opened up with everything a thunderstorm could be. The heat and humidity were instantly eliminated and the storm officially moved on at 5:50. Just like that, we had a reprieve from the elements and still started on time. At the gun, Traffic Panther Teammate Gary and I stayed within ourselves, avoiding the attempt to equal the pace the quarter marathoners.

It wasn't long before what humidity was left forced the removal of my shirt as all of us suddenly became upright puddles of sweat. On a down hill just before mile 3, Gary drifted by me. I tagged along and did the same to him about a half mile later. Heading up Lincoln Avenue, half a block from where I now live, I hear from a crowd of onlookers from a random front porch "That's my neighbor Craig! Elmwood Strong!". Laughing to myself, I can tell it's Rob - just one of our friendly next door neighbors.

The down hill after the four mile marker saw Gary again drift by and as we enter Mingo Park at mile five, we again traded places. Keeping each other on pace was working up to this point.

Having the half marathoners and quarter marathoners running at the same time meant you couldn't really tell who was running what distance until the split which saw the quarter runners turn right to head for the finish and the half marathoners turn left to start a second loop. At the split I turn for my additional loop and see a lonely uphill (the same incline of which I navigated about 40 minutes or so ago) and it is just me - the faster folks had to be up that way somewhere, right? Continuing along I make sure to get water or Gatorade (or both) at every hydration station from here on out.

At mile seven I realize I haven't seen (or heard) Gary, or anyone else for that matter, for a little while. Though I do notice in front, at what seems like a mile ahead, a half marathoner. Assuming I was alone at this point, I focus on the figure ahead and work on maintaining form, pushing my knees through my elbows. At every turn I look for that figure and each time I'm a little closer. I'm gaining on him every so slowly. I feel good and the humidity is affecting some folks, though - luckily - I've been able to avoid the heat crash. A rather long downhill at mile ten put me within in striking distance and I hear some onlookers yell, "Second place is just ahead, you got 'em!"

We make it back to Mingo Park for the second time and about a quarter of the way around the park, I finally pass that figure. The bike lead he had been following now speeds up slightly to stay in front of me, but the figure doesn't drift away - he stays directly on my tail. We come out of the park and have about a mile to go and on the slight downhill the sound of his footsteps start to drift off. Focusing on my form, I stare down the half & quarter marathon split for a second time. This time I get to turn right and cruise the tenth of a mile or so to the finish. Just as I turn, I see a red clad figure appear to my right. It's the dude I just passed attempting to redeem himself. Here I simply threw what I had left in the tank out there and took off.

Though, this is where it I will forever be made fun of - as I reach Sandusky Street to turn left to finish, the crowd is huddle at the corner craning their necks to look over and around each other for oncoming finishers. The more they stretch to look, the further into the street they get. I'm headed right for them and a few notice I'm about to turn them into bowling pins and dart back onto the sidewalk. The last one jumps back just in time for me to miss them, though behind them is a little girl - say 5 to 7 years-old - who is oblivious to the fact I'm barreling down on her to turn the corner. I have enough time to move most of my body to the right, but not enough to avoid her completely.

I stick out my hands to block her from being totally destroyed, but it is enough momentum that she falls to the ground relatively hard and narrowly misses landing in a puddle of rain water. I look back to make sure I haven't killed her and yell "I'm sorry!" with as much breath as I can gather then turn back around to finish about three seconds later. I stop my watch and hear the announcer say something like "Please be sure not to walk onto the course and stay back on the sidewalk". A little late for that now, isn't it?

Glancing at my watch I see I have finished in 1:28:03. It isn't a PR, but an excellent time - for me - with the amount of hills and elevation involved. And as an even bigger surprise, I have taken second place. First place, yeah, that dude was about twelve minutes ahead of me. I was happy with a second place overall finish and teammate Gary finished fifth.

Shortly thereafter, I find my Traffic Panther Teammates and L and get my free beer. Mingling with them, the little girl I stomped on is pointed out to me. I make my way over to her and kneel down to meet her gaze (her dad is standing with her) and ask, "I'm sorry I ran into you, are you okay?" Looking unsure of what is going on, and maybe a little scared, her dad tells her, "Honey, this is the guy who trucked you." Thanks Dad...I feel MUCH better about it now. He did say she was fine and the whole thing just scared her. I laughed and asked if she wanted to push me down or kick me. She, too, then laughed and gave me a high five. Thankfully, I'm not being hunted down.

All of us eventually made it back to my place for some grilling and celebratory drink afterwards.

So summer has begun and my plan is to not spend it looking in the rear view mirror, but rather as a soon-to-be 43 year-old who has way too much ahead of him to sit back and recollect on what once was. This coming Sunday, we return to the 41st Columbus 10K - Columbus, Ohio's oldest road race. I took 55th in 2017 with a time of 38:46 and I'm looking to obliterate it.

We have no time to wait, or rely, on someone or something to come through - if you want it, you gotta get it done yourself...

The Regrettes - Come Through

You’ve got a lot of nerve
When you’re trying to call me out
But we both know very well
You’re the one with the big mouth
I thought that I liked you and your mom and daddy too
But now I know that I want no part of them or you

It’s not my fault
It’s not my fault like you say it is
It’s not my fault cause I told you long ago
That I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit

You don’t come through
Like you say you do
Now I don’t need you to
Cause I don’t need you
You don’t come through
Like you say you do

Now I don’t need you to
Cause I don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you

You think you've played me for a fool (for a fool)
When really you just made yourself look like a stupid tool
I know it must be hard to see
You’re not my cup of tea
That’s just what happens when you’re way too cool

It’s not my fault (no, no)
It’s not my fault like you say it is
It’s not my fault cause I told you long ago
That I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit

You don’t come through
Like you say you do
Now I don’t need you to
Cause I don’t need you
You don’t come through
Like you say you do

Now I don’t need you to
Cause I don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
(Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh) x2

Boy I think it’s time I think it’s time I let you know
Yeah I think it’s time I think it’s time I let you go
Boy I think it’s time I think it’s time I let you know
Boy I think it’s time I think it’s time I let you go

You don’t come through
Like you say you do
Now I don’t need you to
Cause I don’t need you
You don’t come through
Like you say you do
Now I don’t need you to

Cause I don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
I Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)
Don’t need you (oh oh oh oh oh)

I don’t need you

The week after The Buck Fifty (in which we had excellent spring weather AND was noticed by Runner's World with this piece written by Jenny McCoy), it freakin' snowed - AGAIN. Like the rest of this schizophrenic spring, the weather did warm up slowly over the ensuing days. The following Friday, on a whim by L - we bought some bricks and made a fire pit at our new place and spent the late afternoon and early evening feeding it the variety of twigs and branches the tree next door has been shedding. Satisfied with ourselves, we drank a beer or two in celebration while listening to the crackles & pops coming from the flames as the sun feel asleep.

This is how we are ignoring the push from winter to linger longer than it should. For all intents and purposes - it is now summer for me. I will make it warmer, no matter how many times those damn white flakes tossed by the Snow Miser leisurely float down upon us.

Now if we can just get the ground to thaw a little more, so we can scratch the itch to plant a garden. We may still have a few weeks, but the inside of our house is littered with seedlings idling by our windows like cats planning their attempt to chase down the many squirrels who scavenge throughout our yard.

Oh, and this past week while attending a school event for the library where parents and their children prepare for the next academic year - a ghost from my most recent past paid a visit. At this event, the very first parent & child to come in were accompanied by the grandmother. I smiled at the child, said "hi" to the mother and then all of my cheerfulness evaporated as the grandparent walked by. The grandmother was none other than whack job, w.j., the crazy woman who made living at my Marion apartment difficult simply because she hates life (don't know who she is? No worries, just examine a few previous posts).

I could feel myself take a step backward and move into some sort of defensive position, but I'm not sure what I would have been defending against or how I would defend if something were to happen - it was totally involuntary. Then hell froze over, she smile and said, "Hi Craig, how are you? And how is the new place?" Weirded out at first because she seemed human, I reluctantly remember I'm working and crack a half-hearted smile.

"I'm good and we really like it," wanting to avoid bringing up the past - I add, "and we have a full yard and much more room to garden, unlike the apartment." Continuing to bite my tongue and force the professionalism to peak through the mass of resentment engulfing me, I was taken back when she spoke again.

"That's great, I'm really happy for you...and...," as she sheepishly looks to the ground and back toward me, "I want to apologize. I'm really sorry, there's just been a lot going on." She sticks out her arms, "Can I get a hug?" Surprised at the apology for her being a complete a-hole, I'm not sure what to make of the "hug" suggestion. Halfway expecting to be sucker punched or jabbed with a shiv made out of Chinet Dinnerwear, I slowly oblige thinking there are lots of people here...witnesses, they are all witnesses. She apologized again and moved on through the school event with her daughter and granddaughter. I continued to glance behind me throughout the afternoon because...well...just because. I'm hoping that will be the last interaction with her, though I'm wary of the apology she offered because...for some people...two faces are better than one.

The 10 mile run earlier in the afternoon of our fire pit day was a good reminder of what is on the horizon - half marathons. And the first of such races was to take place the last weekend of this crazy month. The 2018 OhioHealth Capital City Half Marathon on April 28th was my second half this year, following the Brokeman's Winter Warm up back in January when it as all of -4 degrees at the start and my breath froze on my sunglasses (not to mention the frozen solid liquid refreshment afterwards).

Barring any weather ridiculousness, I was hoping for a minimum of 60 degrees on race day. And just like deciding to build a fire pit at the last second and doing it, I'm starting off my summer running with a half marathon rather than using the summer to build up to it and running one at the end (like in 2017) - ripping the Band-Aid off without a second thought or, as one might say, jumping right into the fire.

This time a couple of my The Buck Fifty Traffic Panthers Teammates would join in on the fun. Gary and Josh would run the half with me, while Mark would take part in the quarter marathon.

Despite excellent spring weather leading up to race day, temperatures dipped a bit. We had mostly sunshine on this morning, but temperatures would hang around the mid 40's. I joined Gary in his strategy of starting in the midsection of our corral. Following the national anthem, played on saxophone by Jerry DePizzo (a member of the band O.A.R. & Ohio native) and the gun goes off. Sitting in the back of the corral, we move slowly with the mass of people toward the start line, start our watches once we cross it and begin weaving our way through the slower runners.

In the past, I would start toward the front of the corral, but my competitive nature had me try to stay close to those going much faster and I would crash near the end. I was hoping this would allow me to say within myself and pass folks I should be passing with the pace I'm used to - it worked. Not being pulled by the force of wanting to beat everyone, we kept our comfortable pace and navigated through the mass of competitors. At each fueling station I grabbed just enough sports drink to wet my whistle and when Gary passed me, I made sure to be going fast enough to not lose sight of him.

At the 5k mark, I cross at 20:01 and now I'm simply gaining on folks and only sparingly is there someone who comes up from behind - I'm comfortable as we leave downtown Columbus. I see L before she sees me and she seems startled to see me, confirming my thought that I'm going faster than expected and I feel really good - and still I'm slowly passing people as we cruise north on Neil Avenue. I have to laugh at myself as I run by my former neighborhood here, having lived off of this street about seven years ago and passing some old haunts (memories of joining Dickey, Ryan, Nicole, Steve and others throwing back beers and playing trivia at Hampton's on King). At the halfway point (42:59) and making our way toward the Ohio State University campus, Gary is in the far distance - but I can see him. I'm sort of new at the half marathon and I'm using him as my measuring stick.

The crowd of runners in front of me has thinned out a bit and I'm still gaining on some folks, focusing on those ahead I feel like I'm doing a great job of maintaining pace. I hear someone come up behind me, but he stays there and discover he is a loud breather. He obviously is not aware of his extremely audible panting and it is beginning to annoy the bejesus out of me, affecting my concentration. We turn a corner and I stick out my hand to wave him on. He takes notice and as he passes, he offers, "Sorry, I was just trying to draft off of you." It was a rather windy afternoon and I totally understood - which is why I gave him a thumbs up as he passed - but it sounded like he was an animal in heat.

We make it beyond campus and turn to the west to begin the return trip to Columbus. Still sunny, but a rather chilly breeze is lingering. Here I'm glad I decided to stick with running tights under my shorts and a long sleeve dri-fit shirt over a t-shirt. I stayed warm, but didn't get too hot and the shirt kept the wind at bay. I'm still slowly gaining on some folks as the 9 mile marker drifts by and I tell myself the next 4.1 miles will be cake and to maintain as much as I can. I then notice Gary is one of those folks I'm gaining on. Just beyond the 10 mile mark, Gary glances behind him to the left and sees me. I'm about ten feet back - "There you are!", he says. I pull up along side as downtown Columbus is now in full view.

At the last refueling station, Gary drifts in front and I follow close behind. The nerves are starting to kick in as we have two miles to go and I pass by L again just as we turn onto Park Street. We have re-entered the heart of downtown Columbus and what was simply just background noise for the first 12 miles is now the obvious purr of spectators. Gary drifts a little further ahead,but I'm just ecstatic to be where I am. The last half mile is a straight stretch home in the heart of Ohio's Capital City. I get passed by someone, but let him go, though I recognize him as a dude I passed about two miles back.

The start/finish line, in all it's glory, is now in full view of my already crappy eyesight and Gatorade splattered shades. I don't feel like I have slowed down, significantly, for the entire race and just as I reach the end line, I reach to stop my watch and glance at the race clock. The clock clicked over to 1:27:00 just as I crossed, but once I finally had the opportunity to come to a walk I remembered I started in the back of the corral. Meaning, I didn't actually start until moments after the leaders. A quick look at my sticky, sweat covered Garmin watch and I couldn't be more impressed with myself - 1:26:30. I'm a full 3:30 under my goal and nearly 4:00 off of my PR in my fourth attempt at the half marathon.

We seemed to walk forever through the finishing chute, but I could feel the giant grin on my face...it almost hurt. Handed some water and my finisher's medal, I high five Gary and realize right then I had to pee. It was the kind of sensation where you try to nonchalantly walk/run to the nearest restroom, attempting to not look like you have been holding it for 13 miles. The thing is, though, that is exactly what I had been doing and the quick sips of water and Gatorade at each refueling station just added to my bladder's misery and it finally reached it's boiling point. Gary commented, "That at least shows you were well hydrated."

I then meet back up with Gary at the finishing party after garnering my free slice of Papa John's Pizza and Land-Grant Brewing 13.1 Wheat CapCity Half Marathon beer. Finishing the pizza and beer I go find L and we make our way to our car. She and I are both excited that the drive home will be much shorter (Delaware is 20 miles closer to Columbus than Marion) and still have the entire Saturday afternoon ahead of us. I laid down at home, but didn't actually fall asleep. Rather, I slept internally for about two hours as I replayed the morning in my head in a dream-like state.

Once tallied, I was flabbergasted to discover I finished 57th out of the 6,400 half marathon finishers. Even more impressive were my mile splits which ranged from 6:23 to 6:47, so the feeling I had of not slowing down significantly throughout the race turned out to be true. The slowest split was mile six, but the next five mile splits were each faster than the next. Don't ask me how I did that, I certainly don't know. And I was just 32 seconds slower in the second half of the race than the first (42:59, 43:31) I'm not bragging, I'm just surprised at what I have been able to accomplish and my competitive nature will keep pushing me until I break.

My Buck Fifty Teammates did quite well also - Gary finished twelve seconds ahead of me, Josh finished in just over two hours and Mark won his age group in the quarter marathon. Not bad for a bunch dudes around 40-something who simply thought this would be a great way to get some free beer.

Up next will be the New Moon Half Marathon in my new hometown of Delaware, Ohio and the 6.55 loop circles the block I live on. I ran the quarter marathon portion of this event last year (once around the 6.55 loop) and didn't do so well, I melted in the humidity of the late afternoon race. I'm hoping, with this now being my training ground, the familiarity will give me some sort of psychological advantage and, maybe, another PR. Hey, it never hurts to get your voodoo workin'....cheers!

*Eilen Jewell - It's Your Voodoo Working*

I fell in love with your body and soul
My hand's still sticky, and my head's ice cold
My sugar tastes sour; my salt tastes sweet
I woulda laid down but I just can't sleep

It's your voodoo working
It's your voodoo working
Round and round same old thing
Heartache, misery, trouble, and pain
It's your voodoo working
It's your voodoo working
It's your voodoo working
Voodoo working and I can't get a little

Slow down, baby, you're going too fast
Your love is voodoo, and I just can't last
I cried last night and the night before
Twenty long hours, my eyes are sore

It's your voodoo working
It's your voodoo working
It's your voodoo working

Voodoo working and I can't get a little