Yes, I did it. I did the 26 Miles. It was an ordeal. A nightmare. But, I did it.
It was hard to sleep the night before. Those weird dreams started again. You know, the dreams where nobody knows or wants to know your name. And you are naked. It's dark. Just after Midnight. In a word, bleak.
You manage to find some clown clothes in a Hollywood dumpster. You run down an alley and find an abandoned old car that someone forgot to lock. You crawl in the back seat. Suddenly, you realize you're in a Film Noir 40's cable black and white movie and things are grime and getting grimmer. Then you wake up and realize that today's the day.
The day when you are going to go 26 miles. Not for money. Not for glory. Just because you can. I guess I broke training, but I did a quick breakfast at Philippe's in Chinatown.
Carb up is what they say. An obscene Cheddar-Cheese omelette and Sourdough toast. A couple of cups of Java. As I left, I dropped a couple of scarred quarters on the scarred counter and picked up two grease rings some would call plain donuts. Fuel for those last few miles.
The Main Event was ready. Was I? Was I fit enough? Could I go the extra mile? Or should we say any extra miles?
Yes, I don't normally drive 26 miles but I did.
It was a heck of a ride. Pasadena to Culver City and back. The 110 South and then the 10 West. Sunday traffic was lighter than light. On the way back to my man cave, I stopped at a 7-11 and snagged a pizza that tasted like cardboard from a long abandoned land-fill Monopoly game, but it calmed my gut, as I knew it would.
But enough about me...
No comments:
Post a Comment