Marathons, Brasts, Tattoos

It was a day like any other day, except that on this day we were to run another marathon. It would be Kojac’s first, Forest’s second, and Sixpack’s third. None were in very good shape. Forest had had shoulder surgery during training. Kojac had had the usual ups and downs of training for the first race. Sixpack had been sick for weeks and had only logged 5 miles since his 20-mile training run.

  All knew they would cross the finish line, because they were all McClard’s and therefore stubborn as mules. Add a little German, a little Swede, and a lot of Scot together and you start to get the idea.  It was going to be a great day. So as the sun rose over Madison Wisconsin and our motley crew made their way to the starting line, spirits were very high.

The plan: A run-walk marathon that involved running four minutes and walking one. The first 8 miles were relatively uneventful. There was lots of chatter, lots of shit talking and a little bit of stretching. In this 8 miles the governor’s mansion, Malcolm Shabazz High School, and Willy Street were all observed and celebrated (not in that order).

  At mile 9 I’m afraid it was time for Sixpack to find the beat of his own drummer. I wasn’t feeling awesome, but I was starting to feel a little crampy and not well served by the running/walking pace that was being observed. So, with the permission of the other DrunkRunners I went ahead of the group, and remained there for the duration of the marathon. I crossed the 13-mile marker a full 5 minutes in front of Forest and Kojac, and the 18 mile marker about 15 minutes before them.

  Yes, I was in front, but this does not mean that my marathon was a vision of perfection. I remained crampy for the rest of the race and even wondered, while climbing the hill at mile 18, whether I would be able to re-hydrate enough to keep going. It turns out I could. I finished the race in 5:15:03 (give or take a few seconds).

  The highlights of the day were

1. running the first 1/3 with Forest and Kojac. I do wish I could have stayed with them, but most of you know how it is. There are more injuries from running too slow than from running too fast.
2. My fabulous shirt was another highlight. (Pictured below). As I would run past people would encourage me that Brats was the better option, or “Only 22 miles to Bratfest.” or at mile 23, everyone at the water station began chanting “Brats, Brats, Brats” in unison. It was like running with my own cheering section everywhere I went. Simply awesome!!!!!

1. Tattoo party with Forest.  After the race Forest and I went to get tattooed. Now, I wouldn’t normally recommend a tattoo after running 26.2 miles, but there isn’t much—besides a beer—that I WOULD recommend under those circumstances. Forest’s tattoo is an awesome design with the state capitol dome and a banner reading 26.2 underneath. The artist did a fantastic job! Mine was an addition to my existing dolphin tattoo-Before and after pictures below. Again, I have to say, I think he did a fantastic job.

1. Beer, beer, and more beer.  After the race we all went to Mom & Dad’s for “brats”* and beer. It was a wonderful way to finish out the day. Simply amazing.
2. Dying for some relaxation I took a bath in mom and dad’s jacuzzi tub. The most unfortunate part of which was having to cut it short in fear of falling asleep and drowning. It was so comfortable and relaxing I hoped I would never have to leave.
3. I KICKED FOREST'S ASS SO BAD HE TOOK SECOND TO LAST IN OUR AGE GROUP!!! - Love ya, bro.

* To clarify for those in the know. What we were initially told were Brats, were actually chorizo and Italian sausages. It seems that in the past few years, as Johnsonville has expanded their product line, the word “bratwurst” has come to mean any coarsely ground sausage roughly six inches in length. I don’t understand it either. However, I’m sure you can imagine our surprise when we were served “Mexican and Italian Brats.”  Next year I suspect we will be eating Irish Quesadillas, Guatemalan Moo Goo Gai Pan. You never know.