“I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”

— dr. rumack

—

I was sort of prepared for October in an abstract maybe it won’t really happen and I’ll worry about it later kind of way. Basically, the October game is this: Run as many miles as you can from Oct. 1-31. You get a free sticker for 50 bucks. Easy peasy.

But then I saw this. The site that lists the mile totals for October also lists mile totals for EVERY month. So basically it’s like this month is a preseason game, which makes sense given I’m basically a third-stringer. September kicked off today.

And I’m already losing.

If you know anything about me, you know that I would never use the term very unique. But you also know that I tend to be a bit, ummmm, competitive. I’m desperately slow, but stupid enough to stay out all day if that’s what it takes to beat some anonymous strangers for no particular reason. OK, maybe it sounds dumb when I say it that way. No price too high for glory!!! That’s better.

So I’m now going to send Coach Mussolini into a total frenzy by putting in way too many miles in the month before the month that I put in way too many miles. He says I’m already at a Critical Fatigue Level, which he seems to think is a bad thing. The world has changed since World War II, pal. For one thing, our country is teaming up with the bad guys these days. We’re ALL at critical fatigue level, without even needing to run.

I once read something about how running is supposed to be “good” for you. Likely by someone who also was touting “vegetables” and “sleep” “and “rest days” as being essential. Whereas in reality, if you overdo it enough, eventually you’re not overdoing it, you’re just doing it. Too much. Why do you keep hitting your thumb with that hammer?

And so my September training for the October endeavor is doomed to become a death spiral that will make what would have been one extremely hard month feel more like just another extremely hard month. Followed by two extremely hard months after that.

Surely I’m not serious.

Oh, well. In the words of Robert Anthony Plant, Lasso Days are here again. Is that the way it should start? This could be a very unique end. No price too high for glory!!! No, still sounds dumb.

But seriously. Don’t call me Shirley.

And don’t tell Coach Mussolini …