This morning I got a stark reality check when I predicted my time in a local, low-key 5k race and proceeded to run almost a full minute slower. What makes matters worse is that I thought my predicted time was conservative. Today's race was my slowest non-hungover 5k race ever. I mean ever, by at least 45 seconds. After I finished I turned back onto the course and ran until I picked up my mom and finished with her. Unfortunately, the race was so low-key that they didn't even record our home towns. I have yet to be identified as Bryan Bissell, 25, Quabbin Qountry; and my mom was unable to fully represent Tacoma on coolrunning. What a shame.
As I write this entry from my bed, with the family just outside the door, I am suddenly reminded of the image of that bridge in the North End of Boston with the Christmas lights strung all along it's side. I want to go there and look late at night, with a slight buzz and ideally a place to stay. I want this to happen at 2:20 in the morning. I want to smell the harbor, and feel the cool night air.