I'm Staging a Protest

I haven't run since my 18-miler last Sunday (which, incidentally, was not pretty.)

At first I thought I was just discouraged because my 18-miler was not pretty. Then, I started to think I was just lazy. I have been tired lately, and when I am tired, the last thing I want to do after working through a hot afternoon is to go running.

But I've been hard at work at other things. I'm a little surprised at my industriousness, in fact. I've been able to study for hours at a time, I've stayed up-to-date in some tedious projects, and for fun, I've been reading some classics of Greek and Roman antiquity. This proves that I'm not lazy (not this week, anyway), and my fatigue is nothing that coffee cannot overcome.

I finally realized that I am in protest. It's the weather. We should not be having summer weather in the fall, when people need to be training for marathons. So I subconsciously began a protest. I cannot run, because I'm on strike, and I didn't even realize it until now.

Now that I know what is going on, I refuse to run until my demands are met, and cooler weather prevails! Until then, I will sit at home, perhaps to read about Pheidippides, who inaugurated the tradition of running marathons, when, after running 150 miles in two days, he ran the 26-mile distance to announce the Greeks' victory at the Battle of Marathon in 490 B.C. "We have won!" he declared, and then immediately dropped dead.

Which is what I will probably do in Chicago in two weeks if this heat wave doesn't go away, so the unfortunate and not very rational sit-in may end, and I may resume my marathon training. The Chicago Marathon is October 12. They are going to have good weather this year. They have to. Bad things don't happen twice in a row. (Well, sometimes in presidential elections they do, but only because the election is stolen. I'm not convinced that this weather is due to corruption of that nature.) And I've already paid, so I have to go. Besides, I've already arranged for a substitute organist. That is almost more trouble than preparing for a marathon.

(My substitute is a world-renowned musician, by the way. I am very lucky to get him.)

I think my protest is having an effect. I heard the meteorologist say that a cold front is on the way. It's a good thing I did this! I refuse to feel guilty, or in any way a failure, because of my lapse in training. Sometimes you have to do things like this, to make a point. The strike goes on. The weather will be lovely, and it will remain lovely all the way to the finish line in Chicago. We will win.

During my sit-in tomorrow, I will email my substitute organist and ask him if he would be available to play at my funeral. I'm sure the music will be spectacular! I will be sorry to miss it.