Official High School Version of Myself Ass Kicking Season

Somebody must have convinced me to run a half marathon during my last year of high school, because I did it. And I have no idea why. I never trained for the half marathon, since my runs were always focused on the 5k. You see, my hometown had a single 5-mile stretch of bike trail which at any given time probably had about fifteen people on it. A few runners, a few walkers, but mostly a few high school kids smoking blunts in the bushes. For the more adventurous runner there were always the roads that few cars ventured on. Like the one that went down into the canyon. I ran down the canyon road once and was greeted by a couple passerbys with a smile... and a couple middle fingers. Something about beat up truck driving rednecks and skinny runners didn't mix in that town. With little motivation to run outside of cross country practice, I kept additional running to a minimum. And by minimum I mean pretty much just running like hell from the house I just covered in toilet paper to the getaway car.

I've always wondered what my time was on the half marathon, mostly because I want to beat it. I recently wrote the race organizers (Chico Running Club) to find out and this was their reply:

"Unfortunately when they handed the web site and timing equipment over to me, the earliest results on file were for 2002. Sort of frustrating I know, but with the slowly revolving door of volunteer board members, I think things disappear with each personnel change."

So it looks like I'll never know for sure. A hazy memory of mine remembers that I ran a 6:30 pace (did I mention haaazy). Anyway, multiply 6.5 minutes by 13.1 miles and you get 1 hour 25 minutes. So there you go...that's the time I have to beat. No punk 17-year old high school version of myself is going to kick MY ass!!

So I hereby declare it the "Official High School Version of Myself Ass Kicking Season".