The Basics:
I'm not really a runner. I like to run but I'm not very fast. I've never won a race or been anything special on a race course. I started doing laps around a high school track a few years ago, partly to keep in shape but mostly because for some crazy reason that I don't really understand, life makes a little more sense when you're feet are pounding out the miles. Maybe its because running brings out natural instincts. Maybe its because all the physical work burns away the emotional stress. Maybe there is not real reason or truth at all to it and I'm just crazy (a fact that will probably become increasingly evident). Anyway... whatever the reason I feel better about life and about myself when I run and that has to be good
So what next?
Well, obviously, for someone who runs on the weekends and wants to get into the better shape the next logical step is a 100 mile race, right? Ok. So maybe logic isn't my strong point but what the heck.
So this is a story about a guy who set a goal and story of how he achieved it...or completely failed. Either way, whoever wants to is welcome along for the ride. So lace up your Nike's (or kick them off) and off we go.
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