once again, i have decided to run a marathon.

i don’t think that i’m capable of embarking on any endeavor without taking the deep dive into it. it seems to me that a sane person who felt the need to exercise would just commit to so many minutes per day at the gym. not john remy, no sirree. he has to dangle the marathon carrot in front of his wheezy, out-of-shape self.

“why should i exercise,” i ask myself. “i’m a busy man.”

“because, john,” the carrot-dangling me replies, “if you keep up this exercise regimen, you get to run a marathon!” the carrot-man is the cheery type.

“woohoo. i am going to pay over $60 for the privilege of plodding along for four or five hours straight under the hot sun.”

“yes, and you get a cool t-shirt, too!”

the last two marathons were such painful experiences that i pledged after each one to never run another marathon ever again. i proclaimed that the half-marathon or the 10k is perfect for me. after hitting the wall during my last marathon, i imagined myself the victim of the spanish inquisition:

inquisitor: “recant your heretical ways!”

me: “never!”

inquisitor: “i think you will. we are very…persuasive.”

me (defiantly): “i am no stranger to pain.”

inquisitor: “very well. if you choose to persist in heresy, we shall subject your body to the cruel tortures of the…marathon!”

me (screaming): “noooooooo! i repent! mercy!”

perhaps i just enjoy pain. at least i will be healthy and in pain::