or I could bore you . . .
with yet another account of yet another race I ran over the weekend. I’ll keep this one short.
I ran the Great Balls of Fire 5K on Sunday morning (just before the last of the polar vortex left and typical Midwestern summer heat resumed). I managed to squeeze nine miles out of this little three-point-one mile run.
The race was held just three miles from my home, so I ran to the race, ran the race, then ran home. Thus nine miles. The warm up to the race helped because I set a new personal record in the 5K by 44 seconds, which is always nice (especially at my advanced age). But with the heat of the day increasing, the run home was not so nice. I darted from shady spot to shady spot.
The race benefits research into testicular cancer. Hence the clever name. At the end, before the awards ceremony, a mother and her 17-year-old son got on the stage to thank us all for coming out. Her son had recently beaten this cancer, and while he smiled through her talk, he must have been squirming miserably inside as his mom told a bunch of strangers in intimate detail all about his testicles and how to do a self examination and things like that.
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