It was pretty much two years ago to the day that I thought my running days were over. I’d blown out a hamstring to such an extent that a surgeon (who didn’t operate!) said the damage was so bad that I’d never race again. You can always cycle, or walk, he said. Lots of men your age walk for exercise.
Well, suffice to say, I didn’t take these words to heart, so to speak. Instead, a little over a year later I ran my first Boston Marathon, the second hottest on record (the weather, not my foot speed), in just over four hours and I’m now champing at the bit to register for my seventh marathon.
Alas, though, it won’t be in Chicago, as I first reported here.
Time was when you could just register to run the Chicago Marathon. Now, though, it’s a smartphone contest. On the assigned day I’d tried numerous times to register online, but each time the marathon site froze, suggesting a server problem. There was: smartphone samurai swooped in, locking up sixty percent of the open slots.
Beats me, how they did it, but register they did, while I sat before the frozen site for the umpteenth time, scratching my head. Eventually the organizers in their wisdom chose to fill the remaining 15,000 race slots by random lottery. This week (March 12) those who won the lottery and the right to pay a $150 entry fee and run the Chicago Marathon in October were informed. I was not among them.
I’ll be running, but it won’t be in the Winded City. Three years ago I ran a personal record of 3:33:08 in the Steamtown Marathon in Scranton, PA. In that race, I’d managed to run fast enough to qualify for Boston, a standard that was good for two years, which was how I was able to compete in Boston last year.
Do that again and I’d be eligible to run Boston again as late as 2015, my sixtieth year. Chicago’s gone for this year, but Boston beckons!
Next: Running for Your Life: The Faraway Nearby
