the mock-up.

It is with mild pangs of regret (and gigantic pangs of muscle pain) that I announce that my Hell Weekend days are officially over. I am too old for this shit.

Exactly once I did the B.A.A. Half Marathon ("Hills? What hills?") and the Tufts 10k ("Hairpin turns are character building!") back-to-back. It wasn't as terrible as it sounds. I always thought I'd be tempted to give another go if I ever worked somewhere where I have Columbus Day off, or when the Tufts 10k stops sucking. Regardless, the B.A.A. Half is a must-run for me -- perfect time of year, perfect course, and it starts at 8 a.m., giving you plenty of time to sack out on the couch afterwards and watch the Pats.

I'm also playing Ultimate Frisbee this fall, in as much as "throwing wobbly forehands and generally dropping everything tossed towards me, including water bottles" can be defined as "playing." Our games are on Sundays. The B.A.A. Half? Also on a Sunday. Fortunately, today's game was scheduled for noon -- plenty of time to hustle through the half-marathon and make it to Waltham to sprint up and down a soccer field for two hours.

The folly of this didn't really hit me until mile 10 of the race, at which point, I slowed down. In my ten or so years of running this is maybe the only logical decision I've ever made during a road race.

Anyway, I did okay at the half, considering I didn't train, and I wasn't too winded at the frisbee game, and I made it back to Porter in one slightly cramped-up piece. But I don't think I'll be doing that again anytime soon. It bears repeating that I am far too old for this shit.