Monday, February 27, 2023

Cowtown Marathon 2023 Race Report

Howdy pardners! Well, I had a hog-killin' time in ol' Cowtown. I ate so much barbeque I got as full as a tick, right thuur right thuur. 

Mom and I yarned the hours away when we wasn't eatin'. 

Good ol' Fort Worth gave me another marathon, she shore did. When I finished the race I looked like a marionette whose puppeteer had been electrocuted. No, I wasn't fast, but I dare you to stand at the finish line of a marathon and tell these back-of-the-packers their marathon don't count. 

I, a lazy beach bum from Hawaii, had somehow just completed my 20th marathon. Ain't the Lord good!

Here's somethin' else. Over at Southwestern Seminary they've got quite a collection of ancient books. The librarians had everything arranged for me when I arrived. 

I couldn't believe I was actually handling the Complutensian Polyglot.

As well as Erasmus's Greek New Testament. 

I spent an hour reveling in revelation. However, by far the most significant part of the weekend was the "Blue Mile" at the marathon, where Fort Worth's KIA are honored. 

I practically bawled when I read their names and their ages. Here's the thing. We're running a silly race for fun. They gave their lives for a cause. 

Last night after the race all I was good for was kicking my feet up and chillaxing in mom's living room as we jabbered about life.

Marathons always hurt. It doesn't matter who you are, once you get to mile 20-ish, things start to go downhill rapidly. If you do end up finishing the race (there were a bunch of DNFs), it's only because you are better at coping with that discomfort mentality. I accept this as my fate as a runner. I am 70 and have been running for 6 years. I know I'm limited, but that doesn't mean I can't go out there and compete with the big (cow)boys. I love watching people dig down to the deepest recesses of their souls to complete that 26.2 mile distance. Stay tuned as I continue to experience the highs and lows of running and work toward a goal that may or may not be achievable. Maybe I shouldn't care so much. After all, it's just a race. But when I see average people like me crossing that finish line, I cheer myself hoarse. 

Grateful to the Lord,