There I was in my general physician’s examination room trying to explain why I was eating copious amount of bacon, cheese, and avocado and wanting a more a more advanced cholesterol test to show that it wasn’t really doing me harm. It wasn’t going well to say the least. I think the word “moderation” make more appearances that standing ovations at a State of the Union address. How did I get here I thought to myself? Continue reading
After Boston I said if the season ended today I wouldn’t regret it. I should have knocked on wood or something, because my running was prophetically never same after that. After a lackluster performance at Ice Age 50, a greedy attempt to accumulate Montrail Ultra Cup points, I added stupid to injury by running the Bay to Breakers centipede with the West Valley Bros. All I needed to do was to finish Western States and I would have won the Montrail Ultra Cup. Instead Bay to Breakers was my last race of the year and I could hardly walk without pain while spectating Western. So in the end Ian, Mr. Professional, Mr. Consistent, walked away with that title to more than make up for my sneaky victory over him at Rocky Maybe I should have continued to ask him coaching questions.