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The Unspoken Rules of Being a Badass: A Runner's Guide

The End of Something

It is eighty miles from my home to Nashville. Give or take a few miles. It depends on where in town you are going. Yesterday I was going to LP Field, the place where most Country Music runners park.

I got up at 3:30 a.m. drove I-40 blurry-eyed. Once parked, I headed across the Shelbly Street Pedestrian Bridge, joining a stream of runners. A slate gray morning light that earlier had hit the downtown towers now turned red. I hoped to meet a Twitter pal I’ve never seen.

I was assigned Corral 6. Always before I’d started from Corral 1 so as to lower the gun time used in state records. This year it didn’t matter. Even though I wore a marathon bib number I intended to run the half marathon. And I intended to run it slow. State record was a non factor.

Intended to run the half because on Monday I’d run the Boston Marathon, and by some miracle actually finished it, although I’d not run much prior in a couple of months. So wasn’t going to run 26.2 again so soon.

Read the full story by Dallas Smith by clicking HERE

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