--Bill Marvin Restaurant Doctor

Thanks for reading the Weblogs. I particularly want to thank those, like my wife, who continue to read even though they think there are too many stories about running.

After the Boston Marathon, I am going to firmly commit to stories about doing paperwork, cleaning out the garage, shopping and looking for things I've misplaced. I might even do a story about the time I fell asleep in class or about my signature dish 'hot dog kabobs.' Stay tuned.

Unfortunately for some and lucky for others, this week I ran. Something unusual happened. I came home. I sat down, and wrote the story below about the run, in one sitting.

You know how there are some things that are just made to go together? Hot dogs and mustard (never ketchup), movie theaters and popcorn, a horse and carriage, and of course, Zoom and You’re on Mute.

Well, I have a new one personally. It happened again, I had no control over it, but at least I had the sense to stop it before I was arrested.

Let me start at the beginning.

As part of my training plan for the Boston Marathon Virtual Edition I am running on the Sunday of Columbus Day/Indigenous People’s Day weekend around the outside of Fenway Park (47 laps), my training run this weekend was scheduled to be 12 miles.

That my friends, is a long, long way, but I am now on track to build up to 20 miles as a training run in the next 5 weeks, so it is time to get serious or fake an injury, so I don’t have to do this.

Hurricane/Tropical storm Henri had other ideas for my weekend, plus I had a full slate of volunteer activities over the weekend and wasn’t sure where I could fit in a smooth 12-mile, 3-hour run. Should I do it Sunday and sneak in under the Hurricane timeline or wait until Monday morning when the storm had passed? Decisions, decisions. Sunday won out.

Oh yeah, I also had to fit in a Little Big Town Concert in Laconia, New Hampshire on Saturday night and the wonderful 2-hour and 15-minute drive home after the show. This was going to be tricky.

One of the steps I take to make sure that I do what I say I am going to do involves the night before. I lay out my shoes, water bottle, etc. Not uncommon. But I also sleep in the clothes that I am going to wear when I run in the morning. On little sleep, that eliminates an excuse and saves time during the ‘motivation is waning’ stage of a run.

So, when I hopped up after 4.5 hours sleep and hit the road at 7:33 am, I forgot to check one thing: the weather forecast. 12-miles here I come.

About a mile into the run, it started misting. Heavily. But it felt good, and I knew I wasn’t going to overheat with the mist and a 25-mph gust of wind in my face every now and then.

About 6 miles into the run, just at the turnaround point, my wife texted me to ask if I wanted to be picked up. I texted back that I was fine, wondering why she asked. I was glad she was worried about me, but hey, I'm thinking, I got this.

30 seconds later, when the skies opened up, and I mean OPENED up, I knew what she was thinking and why she reached out. It came down in cliches: cats and dogs, buckets, etc. Within seconds I was totally and completely soaked through to the skin and dragging an extra five pounds of water in my shirt and shorts and shoes and socks.

My hands started puckering up like they would if they were underwater, but I kept plugging along, knowing that mile 7 was all uphill, but that the three miles after were all downhill. I was still feeling ok as I made the mental checklist rounds of my body.

Feet? Check.

Legs? Check.

Wind? Check.

Glutes (fancy word for butt)? Check.

Ok, well a little water wasn’t going to derail me…wait a minute. I’ve been here before. And without thinking, I ripped off my shirt and started running in the rain, again. Just like in Arizona.

I couldn’t believe I was doing the no-shirt thing again, but it really helped to carry the shirt and occasionally ring it out. It just felt better with the rain pounding on me shirtless. But, I thought, this time I would be running through my own neighborhood half-naked. Was I ready for that? I guess I had to be.

About ten miles in, I realized that my running shorts were soaked as well: the pockets were actually filling with water. I had been running in the pouring rain for about five miles or more than an hour.

For a brief moment, just a brief one, I thought about taking my shorts off, but realized that I would be drying off in jail if I did that, so I courageously kept them on and the rain pummeled my shoulders, chest and my stomach. I could hear my feet squish, squish, squish as I ran the last two miles.

I realized that every car that drove by me on the southbound lane of traffic was thinking I was a little bit on the crazy side for running in rain this hard. And every car that passed me on my side of the street, both sprayed me as they drove by and thought I was a little bit on the crazy side.

As I headed up the last incline to my driveway, I realized that just like a hot dog and mustard or movie theaters and popcorn, when it rains and I’m running, that shirt is coming off.

Rain and Shirtless Ed. Every time, now.

As Brittney Spears famously sang ‘Oops, I did it again,’ and I guess she took her shirt off too this week?

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