How quickly we forget...

It wasn’t three months ago when I was flat on my back staring at the bright lights of the Lockport Memorial Hospital after a failed attempt at my first 100 mile race. A viscous bout of rhabdomyolsis rendered me unconscious at mile 68. Rightfully so, I suppose, I paid no attention to the warning signs that emerged early on in the form of sharp kidney pains and bloody urine. In fact, an exceptional support team was the only reason I made it that far. 

The whole incident shook me. Imagine having the wind knocked out of you, and not being able to catch your breath for a month. I was shattered and not just physically. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I failed.

Fortunately, in a moment of weakness early last year I registered for the NYC Marathon. Let me be clear, my disdain for commercial races and the arbitrary distance that is the marathon is unmistakable. Having said that, however, the race proved to be a great opportunity to rid my mind of lingering doubt. I finished in 3:18 and having not trained I can’t complain. The splits, however, are comical.

Bullish…