Will The Real Loose Moose Please Stand Up?

So my ghost writer M., has been gracious (Or perhaps the more accurate word might be “coercive”?) enough to not only set up this blog, but to assume my identity and to post as me since this blog’s inception.  She’s kind like that. I thought the time was right, however, to finally make my presence known and to begin posting on my own before she completely jinxes me with all this BQ talk.  Stop the bravado, M!  Don’t anger the BQ gods with all that nonsense!! (I have a theory that intense training coupled with equal amounts of modesty is the only way to appease the gods, and thereby qualify…either that or wake up as a 20-year-old Kenyan.) 

In five short days, M. and J. and I will be making our pilgrimage to Buffalo, and it ain’t to check out the waterfall, people. Instead, we’ll be running the Buffalo Marathon for the third straight year.   I’m hoping to shave off twelve and one half minutes, which coincidentally happens to be the very amount of time that the aforementioned Kenyans will reach the Mile 3 marker – damn these pokey American genes of mine.  My plan to reduce my time by 12 1/2 minutes has been relatively simple:  Completely shun my long suffering family in favor of training runs six days per week for the last 18 weeks.  I now have a closer realtionship with my Garmin  than I do with my kin.  (In my defense, his name is Vic and he’s nearly irresistible.  You’d be smitten, too, after one look at his bold, sleek frame.) In addition to shunning my family, I am currently shunning lettuce and all other nutritious yet sinister foods that may end up half digested in my running shorts on marathon day. So repeat after me: No Family + No Lettuce + 18 Weeks of Hal Higdon’s Boot Camp = a tiny, tiny, infinitesimal chance of maybe, possibly, hopefully BQ-ing. 

Zzzzz…….Time to go snuggle with my Vic and dream happy thoughts of a worldwide lettuce blight.