The question is, am I a douchebag because I am wearing the bluetooth, or do I wear the bluetooth because I am a douchebag? For my fellow shoppers in the Asheville Highway Kroger, it probably did not make a difference. The fact that I was wearing sunglasses inside was likely enough to make them assume douchebaggery. See, I had managed to lug the messenger bag full of audio-visual equipment into the store but totally forgot to get the regular specs out of the car.
So I am sure I cut quite a figure as I trundled around the natural food section looking for some Clif bars. Plus the three bottles of Gatorade and a water. It’s a strange sort of diet that goes on in these last few hours before the idiocy. Spaghetti, marinara, and a little water is just fine. Enough with the cheeses and the oils. Butter too for that matter. I’m not sure if it’s the fats or the lactose or whatever. You probably don’t want to know much more, but that kind of race would not end well.
Finishing well is, of course, the big trick. Anybody can start well, and it is easy to start too well. The beginning is exciting but the run goes on for a while. The trick is to be excited somewhere around mile 22. Pain is fine but suffering is not what this is about. The joy is in completely emptying yourself one step at a time, but not a step before the end.