Oh Wow! 13.1?

 That sticker looks so fucking badass on the back of your crossover that I must now go and change my trousers. I mean seriously?!?!?!?! You ran HALF of the race that people actually give a shit about? A-MAZE-ZING! Not to mention having the wherewithal to buy the sticker afterwards. Otherwise, how would anyone know? You gotta tell ‘em sistah!

“You know that race which dates back to ancient times that they run to massive fan fare in Boston, Chicago and New York City? The wreaths of laurel, the Kenyans, the shit-in pants?”

“No way, you ran a marathon? Those are a real bitch, congratulations.”

“Well, actually no. I ran half of one of those. A ‘Half Marathon’.”

“Oh, so it is like you were trying to do the Tour de France, but you just kind of stopped halfway, in Macon?”

“No, that was the whole plan. It is like the Tour de France, only half of it.”

“Interesting. I’m sure it was tough. But a sticker for your car….necessary?”

“Fuck you man, you obviously don’t get it.”

Nope, pretty sure we all get it. You ran for two hours. Not for four hours like the ancients did and which represents an internationally known and respected distance. You ran half of that and feel the rest of us need to know about it. Like we give a fuck. And this is coming from someone who runs all the time, enjoys it, and has done several official races at varying distances. I’ve run a bunch of “half marathons”. Some to train for an actual, factual marathon, the others just because. No 13.1 stickers on my car. Nobody gives a flying fuck. My wife has run a bunch of them and she never really tells anyone about it because, well, nobody gives a flying fuck. If you finish one in under 90 minutes or close I would love to hear about it at a party or something. Maybe over cocktail weenies and a beer. I personally find the half marathon distance to be preferable to a full marathon. But guess what muchacho, only the 26.2 matters. Do you see anyone with an “I made it to Mount Everest Base Camp” sticker on their Subaru Outback? Hell no. Again, if you told me at a party that you went to Everest base camp I’d certainly find it interesting….but no one is going to be running to the bathroom to furiously masturbate over it. Don’t get me wrong, a 26.2 sticker on someone’s car is obnoxious in its own right, but at least they ran a marathon. I would suspect that most people with a “Harvard” sticker on the back of their car are more than likely a bit of a dickhole, but at the end of the day they graduated from Harvard. A lot cooler than a “Dropped Out of Harvard with 57 Credit Hours” sticker. Mark Zuckerberg certainly doesn’t have that sticker on the back of his….whatever that asshole drives. The fact you got into Harvard and managed to finish that many courses is certainly a curiosity. But why didn’t you just finish, you were halfway there?

Get over yourself. You run. You run kinda far. You don’t run the farthest. Enjoy your 13.1 miles, you’ll sleep well tonight. But a sticker? About as cool as a “Cleveland Indians Central Division Champions” tee-shirt. Good season sure, but unless you win the World Series those tee-shirts are only cool in the sub-Saharan African nation they dumped them in after the Indians lost in the American League Division Series. Although it does look sorta boss next to your “OBX” and “MV” stickers. I mean who the fuck has been to the Outer Banks, Martha’s Vineyard, AND runs half a marathon? Nuts, dude.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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