For 25,000 runners, March is the month of hunger.
Is unemployment the cause? Or is it the fact that there are 25,000 runners living in Africa, the place where our parents told us they would send our dinner if we didn’t like it when we were kids because “starving kids in Africa would love to eat that Tuna-Cornflakes-Velveeta-Broccoli casserole on your plate”. To think that all we would have had to say the first time we heard that as kids was, “Fine, I’ll get a box, mom, you get the stamps and let’s send it to them.” We would have never had to hear those words again. Not sure if it would have been worth the beating. But I digress.
By the way, I am not Nitmos.
I don’t look like him, don’t run like him, don’t be funny like him and don’t know the English language like him. I would like to say that my excuse for my writing style is that English is my second language, but it is not. I am just a product of the Michigan public school system.
I am called a lot of things, but around here, you can just call me the “Hello Kitty” runner. Yeah, that one, the one beloved by Eastern Europeans across Eastern Europe.
On April 20th, I will be running in the Boston Marathon. I have qualified for five Boston Marathons, but haven’t run it before. I am looking forward to an “Airport Taco-less” race, and a “positive split of 45 minutes-less” day.
Back to the month of hunger.
With the marathon only 28 days away, I am not at my goal weight (nor are about 24,000 other Boston Marathoners). I hope to lose another 2-3 pounds before the start of my taper in a week or so. What does that mean for me? Although I put in 50 miles per week on the roads, I don’t get to reward myself with Cheetos, Chik-fil-A chicken sandwiches, ice cream or anything else that I would like to eat. As I celebrated Nitmos’ birthday with him, his (saint of a) wife, the colt, the filly and his Garmin (pbtn), he cut the cake, passed out a slice to each of his family members (largest slice going to his Garmin (pbtn) ). With a smirk, he cut a piece for me, knowing that I would have to refuse or pay for the decision somewhere near the Johnny Kelley statue at mile 17 in Newton, MA. I passed and accepted Mrs. Nitmos’ generous offer of two small celery sticks. YUM! As I ate, the colt and filly scurried behind their mother and whispered in barely audible voices, “mommy, he scares us like how daddy scares us”.
Johnny "Kitty" Kelley
March has been a month of perpetual hunger for me, I wake up hungry, go to sleep hungry and, 5 minutes after dinner, I am hungry. And the weight still isn’t coming off. I feel like Sisyphus (not the disease, the Greek mythological character), but instead of rolling a boulder up a hill, I am rolling a Philly cheese steak sandwich, or perhaps a slice of cheesecake.
Now you would think that I could escape the temptation to eat at work, when I am away from my home’s refrigerator, but NOOOO! There is one that mocks my quest for weight loss at the office, a silent mocker. Down the hall from my office space standing sentinel is a llama piñata. I am sure it is chock full of Krackle candy bars, Jolly Ranchers, Snickers and other yummies (by the way, I hate it when adults say the word, “yummy” to other adults). I walk past this smug, mocking llama piñata several times a day and one of these days I am going to beat it with an old, smelly, Asics 2130, size 10. That day may be the “other” Fat Tuesday, Tuesday, April 21, 2009. Until then I shall continue to eat celery sticks, ice chips and glasses of water with “a very small” wedge of lemon.
In the coming weeks I will be back to share with you my wardrobe for the race and believe me, if you are thinking, “I have just wasted four minutes of my life that I will never get back”, you will surely not want to miss the Boston Marathon fashion post. Until then…Hello.
Thank you, guest poster. Hopefully, he will bring me more exciting installments of his preparations for the big day!
I need content here.