Last Saturday’s running route: 20 miles. From 148th Street to Battery Park and back, all along the Hudson River. Along with a 20 miler four weeks earlier, this is the farthest I’ve ever run. Though I had to walk at times in the 19th and 20th miles, I finished in 2 hours, 38 minutes—just better than 8 minutes per mile. If I continue healing my thigh, I can plausibly finish 26.2, without walking, in very respectable time. When I realized this on Saturday, relief washed over me. Despite my injuries, I actually might not fail.
On another note, given recent economic news, the Central Park Pond here looks ominous. If you imagine Manhattan as a body, then pond would be the hole in its heart. Whatever the city’s fate, though, I believe I will be fine if I can run. If it dies, in fact, then please direct autopsy inquiries to this blog. I’ve got pictures of the entry wound. And I’ll still be here, still running and writing.