Bob Edwards is a little bit obsessed with Edward R. Murrow. Not that Murrow is not totally obsession-worthy. Even in black and white that’s pretty obvious. He’s all trim and does, in fact, making smoking look cool. Bob Edwards, on the other hand, looks like a fairly big dude. Somewhat brobdingnagian in his affect, although he does a bang up job with that long-interview format. I just get a little tired of the over analysis of the “This I Believe” segments. You’d kind of like to have Walker Percy come on and deliver his “I believe in a swift kick in the ass” essay.
Arnold Toynbee was this week’s TIB essayist. He spoke about the inevitability of suffering in life. I, for one, am all for minimizing or eliminating the suffering, thank you very much. Unless, of course, I am suffering for my art. Ok, maybe it’s not art. Maybe it is narcissistic ego self-gratification (as opposed to altruistic ego self-gratification?) In any event, yesterday’s experiment with the SanukCast has proven at least one thing: editing audio takes a while. NPR, how do you do it? So, at 11:45 last night, rising at 5:00 to go for a long run seemed the height of foolishness.
But no one said kilting was easy. Just necessary. The plan was to arise early enough to have it together to hit the road by 6:00. If running is stupid (and we know that it is), getting up to run at 5:00 on a Saturday is idiotic. Running through the Land of the Suwaree, Grey Eagle, and the Mountain Retreat wearing a kilt verges on the suicidal. The least a person could do is be well rested before taking off on a death wish. But given the impending heat and my Sweet Lady’s scheduled belt testing for ass-whooping class, I needed to get out early.
I hoped people would mostly be asleep as I set forth in my unbifurcated garment. This may be the only time before the actual marathon that I wear it on such a long run out on the public streets; however, not testing it prior to the actual day could be a really, really bad idea. As it turns out, the kilt works fine. Great, perhaps. Not so great that I am ready to forswear shorts for all running activities, but good enough that I have no reservations about running 26.2 miles in it. The key is to match it with a sleeveless shirt so that the tattoos show. That’s how people know you are tough, not just strange.
Or maybe they just think you are strange, but they have also just gotten out of bed, so what does it matter? Had I been better rested or better fueled last night, this would have been an epic type run. As it was, the run was surprisingly not bad. 65 degrees with moderate humidity and plenty of shade kept things very bearable. Best of all is when the bagpipe music comes up in the shuffle. That’s when I can see myself finishing on McRae Meadows in front of a crowd that will truly appreciate the feat of the feet. Given it’s inauspicious set-up, this run has me convinced that I can do it.