My Day as a Marathon Runner in the Cannonball Run

It was early, and it was cold. But that's nothing I hadn't handled before. I once ran a 10-miler in blowing snow in Central Park-- start time was 8 am-- and a half-marathon in Brooklyn, for which I had to wake up at 4:45. It was about 45 at the start of the Philly marathon, i think.

I'm used to being aound lots of other runners. We talk about things like IT bands and favorite flavors of PowerBars and whether Wrex 'n Efex is better to run to than Guns 'n Roses. But this morning was different. The Cannonball Run didn't have any nice Gatorade stands along the way. I had no complimentary bagels to look forward to after the race. No corporate sponsors were willing to give me free t-shirts and sweatbands. And I was racing against a freaking horse.

Plus, my knee was bothering me. It's a new injury from an old injury from an older injury, I think. Either way, I knew I'd need a good hour to warm up and even then I worried about it interfering with my agility.

I eyed the other competitors. Mosi Secret was looking pretty quick, tooling around the parking lot on a Segueway. I eyed him carefully, as I do most men in tuxedos. I knew Josh Harkinson was once a bike messenger, so I started giving him threatening glances, but I don't think he noticed. Daryl Hall's pants looked a little too tight to permit gracious rollerblading, and I knew just from looking at him that John Oates would have his ass handed to him by that skateboard. Plus I caught them checking me out while I was streching, so I made a mental note to trip them if they passed me. And then there was that stilt walker. He just looked shady.

The race began and I stayed with the pack for a good ten seconds, but then I cranked up Usher's "Yeah" and took off. I sprinted flat out for about two minutes. I turned around, and the only person I could see was Josh. I presumed that some catastrohic collision had befallen the rest and they'd all tumbled onto the street. This heartened me, so I ran faster. Josh soon caught up, but I could see that he wasn't entirely comfortable on the bike. I slowed and let him pass. I'd save the "kick" for the last quarter mile.

I was going at a more liesurely pace (and now listening to Deelite's "Groove is in the Heart") when I decided to turn around again. The horse was about 10 feet behind me, and coming fast. My options at the moment were outrunning it or being trampled under hooves and left for dead on the freeway, so I turned the iPod to Oakenfeld, did the "kick" early and sprinted until I was out of the horse's trample radius.

Now I could see the Shell station. My knee hurt, but I kept going. I switched my thoughts to Muhammed Ali and his ilk, but got distracted when I passed Goode Company, because i remembered how good their turkey sausage is. Josh was still ahead of me, but I was gaining on him. I had the horse beaten. I noticed a series of puddles coming up and knew they would mess with Josh, so I started running on the grass next to the sidewalk. sure enough, at the last moment, Josh's bike slipped and he stepped off of it. I thought he was taunting me, so I yelled at him to just finish, but he was stuck. I passed him, raised my arms, and ran through the ribbon. Then I watched the horse finish and take a giant dump in the parking lot of the Shell station.

I was pleased with myself, but I was coughing a lot. I think it was all the exhaust. I decided to jog back slowly to cool down. On the way back a tractor trailer honked at me. It was the only recognition I had from a passerby.

I got a nice trophy, but it was nothing compared to the sponsorship deal i'm sure to get from Adidas now... come on, who else has beat a horse?