The Adam Bom Sqwad placed 42 in a field of 54 Corporate Relay Teams. It was our first California International Marathon and it was the… Bom.
Here’s the rundown… Isaac was faster than hell; 8 minute miles. (My threats apparently worked.) Mary ran exceptionally, considering she wasn’t even training. (She’s a true ringer – If she was training seriously, she could probably do a 6-minute mile, maybe faster.) For Jill it was just a regular Sunday outing (she just finished a half marathon a couple of weeks before), and in spite of my screaming at her all along the route, she wasn’t even breathing hard when she came in.
Then there was me…
I was hoping to run at least 12 minute miles. But I was a very unsettled; The night before I went to a party and ate a bunch of weird stuff. Stuff like jalapenos stuffed with yak cheese, exotic bean dips and chips, frosting-coated sugar bomb cookie “things,” bizarre-looking alien foods, etc.
It’s the kind of food that “the person who made it” offers you, so you have to put it in your mouth and immediately, OMG, it just tastes God-awful strange and you know it’s going to give you gas, destroy the lining of your stomach and kill all the bacteria in your intestine, so your instinct is to spit it into a napkin, but you can’t, because that would be impolite, so you choke a little down and you say, “My, THAT was delicious! Did you make that?” while your wondering if now might be a good time to go to the bathroom, but “the person who made it” walks over to the next victim, so, while they’re not looking, you take what’s left in your hand and try to feed it to the dog, who just sniffs at it, stares at you with a look that says “OMG, I ain’t eatin’ that!” and walks away… and then, while looking you directly in the eye, he licks his butt.
Yeah… that kind of food.
With all that going on in my head, my confidence level was extremely low; I wasn’t hearing “Chariots of Fire.”
But, the good news: I got to run the last leg, that is, to carry the AdamBom Sqwad across the finish line. And trust me on this; If you ever do a marathon relay, always get the last leg. Why? Because you’re running against the poor bastards who have already run 20 miles… Even running 12 minute miles, you feel like an animal, you’re a hot knife cuttin’ through butter.
Anyway, I gave it my best. My competitive running technique is basically this:
- Run as hard as you can – until you think you might throw up.
- Slow down – until you know you’re not gonna throw up.
- Start over at No. 1. And repeat.
It works… I ran under 10 minute miles.
I ran so hard across the finish line and looked so trashed, they gave me the full-marathon medal! Not the little wussie one like all the other relay runners got – but the big huge one, reserved for the full, bad-ass marathoners.
I woulda given it back, but I didn’t realize what had happened until much later, when I woke up from the coma.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter.
After all – I am the boss.