Singer Frank Sinatra retired from the big stage. And came back. Actor Sean Connery said “Never again” to cinema’s James Bond. He came back. NFL quarterback Brett Favre said “No, yes, no, yes.” Return to football he did.
Now I’m thinking about a comeback, a return to glory. Running is back on my agenda.
It all happened over the weekend. I was wearing the beer goggles in conversation with Gazette alumna Karen Roach, Aquinas Institute alumni Tom Wedow and close relative Tim Wilkin when the talk turned to running. Karen had been in training last year for a bunch of races. Once the races were finished and the challenges met, she cut back on the miles.
“I guess I need a goal,” she said.
I thought a great goal would be the “Last Run 5K,” part of Albany’s Winterfest night on Saturday, Dec. 19. I also thought training for a race would provide excellent incentive for me to get back into stride. And I was semi-inspired with colleague Mike MacAdam’s recent blogs as he prepared to roll his bones over the nine miles and change that comes with the Stockade-athon.
I can’t muster the kind of speed Mike now has at his command, but if I can finish the “Last Run’s” 3.5 miles in 30 or 35 minutes, I will finish 2009 on an athletic high note.
The weed of crime bears bitter fruit. For me, so does running. During my high school days, I could have worn a red shirt emblazoned with a lightning bolt .... but speed and fury have faded during the past 36 years. Starts at Albany’s annual “Corporate Challenge” in recent years have been grim affairs. I have looked one of George A. Romero’s zombie shufflers in the “Night of the Living Dead” movies during my finishing kick. After the races, I’ve felt like one of them, too.
Biking, walking, stretching and some weights at the YMCA are being replaced by runs on the treadmill and expeditions around my neighborhood. I’ve got 38 days to conquer a paltry 3.5 miles. A mere bag of shells, as Kramden used to say.
Some hurdles may show up in the road. For one, Karen and I were discussing our plans in the presence of Mr. Booze, and his influence can later mean forgetfulness and regret. But I believe Karen will answer the clarion call to arms and legs on Dec. 19 ... and so will I. After all, we both signed a contract — a bar napkin supplied by Mr. Booze — that says we will both be at the starting line.
It’s a nice race. It’s a kick just being out in the cold night air, maybe running snow-covered streets. The course rambles through Washington Park, so we’ll get to see the annual “Capital Holiday Lights” show for free.
Another hurdle could be the planning of my annual Christmas party .... the best date looks like Friday, Dec. 18. I will hate to tell Mr. Adolph Coors and six of his brown-suited associates they are persona-non-grata at the affair —because I will be on the run 24 hours later. Maybe I’ll keep the number to a manageable three; we runners need all the carbohydrates we can get.
The return to glory might mean cutting back on the suds, and that’s OK. Another possible advantage could be the next big Sleep Test I have coming up. Think the sleep doctors are fitting me with one of those jet pilot rigs, the masks that cover the face, prevent snoring and help ensure solid sleep. Great rest could mean good training days, and good training could get me my red shirt with the lightning bolt back.
I might have to ask Mike for some advice. Just as long as we aren’t talking over a couple beers.
Starting to think that’s what got me into this mess .... I mean, challenge .... in the first place.
