Inside a runner’s mind….the marathon.

Inside a runner’s mind….the marathon.

They ran the Boston Marathon yesterday.

In the spirit of that historic event, I  interviewed an up-and-coming runner who might one day aspire to run through the streets of Beantown. A simple guy sharing his thoughts about running his first marathon this January at Disney World.

Why did you decide to train for the marathon?

Runner: You patted my stomach and said, “Belly, belly, belly. And I thought we’d have togetherness time….which we did not. Which you promised.”

Interviewer: For the record, I never promised anything. I probably did tap your mid-section.

How did you train for the grueling 26.2 mile journey of a lifetime?

Runner: I decided there was no shame in walking. Heavy on the treadmill. I built up to two 18 mile walks.

Any tips for training to “walk” the grueling 26.2 journey of a lifetime?

Runner: If you are walking more than an hour, hide Clif Bars in bushes. Or you can refrain from marital relations for two days before your long walk — which I was unwilling to do.

Interviewer: Are you kidding me? You hid Clif bars on Dixie Highway. Who would take them? A turtle? Maybe a mouse might drag it to their little nest to feed their broad of 10,000 babies. You hid a Clif Bar on Dixie. Good Grief.

Runner: Yes. I always put them up high.

Interviewer: And I’m married to you.

What did it feel like to cross the  finish line?

Runner: Shame. I finished 23 minutes behind Donald Duck. And an hour and a half behind my wife.

You jest. There was no shame. Where to you keep the coveted Mickey Mouse medal?

Runner: In a drawer, wrapped in toliet paper.

Any parting thoughts?

Runner: Never again.

Interviewer: Oh no. You are not serious.

Runner: I lost two toenails and the last shred of my dignity.

Interviewer: I’m proud of you.

Runner: You need to go wash Joe’s hair and bring me my food.

Okay then.  I guess the interview’s over. But I’m not giving up hope. For Boston or that my dear hubby will indeed do another marathon.

Well, I guess I might qualify for Boston — like when I’m 80.