Race Week for St. George Marathon + I Look Sort of Like Christian Bale (in “The Machinist”)
Not much left but the wait. With all the training behind me, travel booked, and feeling well, I think I’m ready. This week I have almost no running planned, just a couple short sessions mostly to help with nerves. The focus is on eating and sleeping enough and, when I get to St. George, I’ll drive the course (maybe get out and walk some miles of it) and attend the race expo, just to make sure nothing slips through.
I don’t know exactly how I’ll do. 3:15 seems doable if all goes as planned. But, that is a good bit faster than my previous best and there are a lot of variables come race day. The one thing that I’m confident about – I have worked hard, with focus, and I certainly look like a runner now. Almost every time I meet another runner and conversation turns to PRs (mine, in particular), I hear the same thing: “Oh, you look a lot faster than that.” Or, “Oh, I figured you were one of those fast guys”. I’ve never know whether I should say “Thank you” or “Fuck you” but usually I just half mumble “uh, yeah”.
Now that my weight is solidly back up to the 150s, I’m feel like I look more fit than emaciated. (Though I’m sure my grandmother would disagree.) And if I told folks I was going for a 2:15 marathon, rather than a 3:15, I bet most would believe me. My primary goal isn’t to be super lean or ripped or “look like a runner”. What I want is to be healthier and perform better, to run faster and longer, while maintaining some strength and, hopefully, looking more like an anatomy chart than a skeleton.
I mean, this is sexy, right?
Come 2012 I’ll try to put on a few productive pounds. For now, I’ll consider my thinner self to be “race fit,” secure in the knowledge that good food and hard training are to blame. Just in case I ever run for elected office, here’s me in my underpants this morning:
Kind of Like Fun 
Your butt looks just like that muscle guy’s butt. Maybe a bit more hair on it. And, like, skin and stuff. But otherwise, dead ringer.
I’ve always thought you had a nice trapezius.