Why? Because there are cheese curds at the finish line, my friend Krista reminds me.
Yum, cheese curds.
Southeast Wisconsin is also home to one of the very best places on earth, the Mars Cheese Castle. That is worth the drive up north.
After running the Des Plaines River Trail (DPRT) marathon last fall, I was was happy to discover that it's possible to really enjoy a marathon. The key was doing it with good friends and taking it easy. You know, making a point to actually try and enjoy it.
After several sucky-ass marathons of trying to stick to a pace and set new PRs (personal records), this changed -- for the better -- my view of running marathons and the two 50k ultras I've done the last couple of years.
So run Kenosha for the hell of it? Sure, why not.
But, the last month or so, some nagging aches -- if I'm honest with myself, it's stuff I had last year, too -- led to a bunch of stuff that made me have to slow way down on running. Sports doc diagnosis: some kind of hamstring/hip tendonopathy, piriformas syndrome, etc. Get some physical therapy. Bleah.
So, time to apply the "bangs vs. no bangs test".
I am never, ever satisfied with my bangs.
I grow them out.
Then I decide my forehead is wrinkly and I get bangs again to look younger (a cheap alternative to Botox, I rationalize.)
Now I'm not liking my bangs and growing them out.
This weird mental test applies to other stuff, too. Skip the race or drop to a half marathon distance or cross-train like crazy and just have the best race that is possible, even if I'm DFL (dead effing last).
Yes, this is the world's dumbest metaphor.
So, I'm growing out my bangs again and they're a mess right now.
So's my "training" as I shove a step and bodypump class or a spin class into my schedule, run lower mileage during the week -- and curse when things ache. (The physical therapist I'm seeing is doing so much to help -- I'm better, just impatient).
I've made myself go to the pool the last three Friday mornings -- I am a terrible swimmer and don't really like it. So I'm just doing separate drills to practice armstroke and kicking, which are both astoundingly exhausting.
(But it's kind of cool, too... I am going to try and stick with it.)
How everything shakes out on race day -- who knows.
But hopefully my bangs will be long enough by then to pull back and out of my eyes as I'm running toward those cheese curds.