Pacing

I got roped into pacing for the Seattle Marathon again this year. (Don't you dare roll your eyes at this post and ask, "How does one get 'roped' into anything?" YOU weren't there.)

What's worse is that in the past, we've gotten some schwag for our efforts...so, at least running 13 miles on the Sunday after Thanksgiving in shitty weather while holding a fucking sign for 2 hours and 22 minutes was worth a pair of Asics. This year...THIS YEAR...we get nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. (Don't you dare roll your eyes at this post and ask, "How does one get 'roped' into pacing without getting anything out of it?" YOU weren't there.)

I resisted responding to the call for pacers this year--especially just having run Portland; but when I was at track a few weeks ago, I overheard that someone who had committed to pacing a leg of the 4:45 needed surgery, and so the group was short a pacer. I agreed to do it because I only need to run 6-8 miles of it, instead of the usual 13.

I guess I can look at the bright side: Maybe this will bring good karma!?