Former 2:24 marathoner, now in my late 40s and hoping to maximally flatten the curve of my slide into senescence and mediocrity • Magazine writer, book editor and author, and commentator on the sport of distance running since 1999 • Adviser and confidant of other perambulators • Paradoxical hater of exercise fanatics • Chihuahua whisperer Sentence-fragment impresario

Monday, May 1, 2017

Don't let the door hit you in the ass, April

241 miles. I still haven't missed a day of running in 2017 and therefore have a streak of 120 + whatever number of days I had in a row at the end of December, I think about 15.

Despite getting into a couple of races and tying for the win in one of them (that, only because my buddy held back) it was a disappointing month overall. I knew my ides about where I would be by this point in the year were not realistic, but that didn't keep me from latching onto them and nourishing them nicely into a big bush of expectations I fell far short of.

My annual four-week spring trip back to New England was a good time, as always. Just not for purposes of the subject of this blog specifically.

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