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It may be more of a burden, truth be told, to write this blog than to read it. Particularly after being labeled a Bruce-Jenner hating misanthrope, showing up at a starting line creates a level of expectation. During the race, thoughts of DNFing must be put aside; how will you justify another failure.

During the race, thoughts of what I’m going to say about this or that stretch animate the race.

In a target race, say a marathon, you embark on a five-act journey hoping that you’re one of the ones left standing, if bloodied, at the end. Sometimes you’re not.

But there is to be no Scottish Play about the Scottish 10K. I did it last year in quite different weather conditions. Last year it was cold and rainy. This year it was hot and sunny. Hence, I like to think performances were a bit slower because of the heat.

The problem with a sunny start is that one stands in the corral with the sun beating down for a good 20 minutes waiting for the horn. And enthusiasm ebbs and flows during the wait. 10-minutes to go and doubts appear about the race generally and just being there, standing in a bunch of other runners. This was a club race, but it didn’t seem as deep as other club races. We were not at full strength — PT is away — but we had a number of younger folks, including a band from Rockefeller University who are among our Saturday morning group. Warming up, I pass JT (with a red number) but in my pre-race bubble I fail to stop (sorry).

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