Tag Archives: marathon

What Kind of Long and Painful Run Should You Put Yourself Through? (via The Loop/Golf Digest)

 

The Loop / Golf Digest — If you page back through human history, you’ll find a pretty short list of reasons that people have had to run for long distances, which are all basically some variation of “I was being chased by this thing with blood in its teeth and meat-tearing claws, and what’s with all the questions anyway, Glunk?”

This is, it is logically said, the primary reason our ancestors north on the evolutionary scale developed foot speed in the first place. But in modern times, with the whole hunter-gatherer situation pretty well replaced by a land stuffed with a surfeit of Golden Corrals and/or meat-ish clumps stacked three high and available without your removing yourself from your car, there’s really only one reason people run long distances: they are crazy fools whose brains have been replaced by oatmeal and a deep enjoyment of simply-avoided injury.

Some of us indulge this by running, because when you’re dealing with a thing that basically goes step-step-breathe 400,000 times in a row there’s not a lot of room to get all creative. But there are different kinds of races now: Mud runs, color runs, and our favorite, zombie runs. Which of these would best make your lame boring run more exciting?

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Paul Ryan’s marathon lie: Great, here’s another politician who’s apparently not Kenyan

Pictured: Congressman Ryan

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GateHouse — Let’s get this out of the way: Paul Ryan’s for-realsies marathon time — the four-hour one that an official timer clocked officially in official 1990 using an official 1990 stopwatch, which played Bell Biv DeVoe music — totally beats mine. Hell, Sarah Palin’s marathon time beats mine, and trust me, this is not information that makes it easy to get out of bed every morning.

We could spend the better part of the afternoon inventorying the politicians who have run faster marathons than me — it’s actually most o of them, with the exception of Al Gore, who I shall now take to calling “An Inconvenient Turtle.”

But that’s the point: We can do that because I remember mine. Everybody remembers their own PRs, whether they’re two hours or seven. We love them unconditionally, we spend loads of time awkwardly shoving them into conversations that go on to cover the status of our knees, the contents of our running mixes, the number of packets of nutrient-rich goo we forced ourselves to absorb, the emotional attachment we have with our shoes (the majority of which do not love us back), and if you’re really lucky, some details about bathroom breaks. Point is, PEOPLE REMEMBER. God, you could start a second Instagram with the number of shoe-pictures alone. (Note: <– OH GOD, NO ONE DO THIS.)

Which is why when Ryan told a radio host that he couldn’t remember his marathon PR — “under three, high twos, I had a two hour and 50-something” — my eyebrows immediately went up. And not just my eyebrows — which was good, as I burned most of them off in a 1996 silver-nitrate-related chem-lab mishap — but the eyebrows of my actual running friend Jamey, who has run Boston three times and has been to known to talk an awful lot about his socks. Which WICK MOISTURE! Y’all aren’t even ready for the amount of moisture they can wick.

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[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JEV0ea86lU]

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Born to run — on steroids, which makes the running substantially easier

GateHouse — If you page back through human history, you’ll find a pretty short list of reasons that people have had to run for long distances, which are all basically some variation of “I was being chased by this thing with blood in its teeth and meat-tearing claws, and what’s with all the questions anyway, Glunk?” This is, it is logically said, the primary reason our ancestors north on the evolutionary scale developed foot-speed in the first place: When you wake every morning to the very real possibility of being ground into a hairy goo by a predatory hellbeast whose name includes the word “saber-toothed,” it probably doesn’t take long before you develop a singular talent for panicked escapes. (Our creationist friends are invited to substitute “velociraptor” in previous sentence. Also in this hypothetical the human’s job is something he can do with a club, obvs.)

But in modern times, with the whole hunter-gatherer situation pretty well replaced by a land stuffed with a surfeit of Golden Corrals and/or meat-ish clumps stacked three high and available without your removing yourself from your car, there’s really only one reason people run long distances: they are crazy fools whose brains have been replaced by oatmeal and a deep enjoyment of simply avoided injury.

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