It’s still cold here in Florida. Unaccustomed to the deep freeze brought down by the Arctic Blast, our entire state is caught off guard. Iguanas are falling out of the trees in a sort of frostbitten reptilian suspended animation. I want to modify my philosophical reverie of the 9th: “Running anyway.” I had pointed out that runners learn to engage the world right where we find it without seeking comfort. I had written, “If it’s hot, you’ll sweat. If it’s cold, you’ll shiver.” And then I went on to list another couple of assorted discomforts to which we runners adjust without whining. I now need to modify the list.
“If it’s hot, you’ll sweat. If it’s cold, you’ll get hit in the head by an iguana in a coma.”
I now run, looking up. Other New York City Marathon runners from around the world are going to have to overcome a lot of challenges in order to compete on November 7, but very few are going to have to overcome the shock and awe of an iguana concussion. Florida is NOT an easy place to train, my friends.