Workout 1. 64 minutes outside. 8 miles? Easy. Workout 2. 4 miles dread. last lap 5:00 pace for Hudson's sake. 300 crunches 12 miles. ------------------- Well I won't be wearing a Nintendo IBM paint splotched shirt while representing my new company at the corporate marathon in Miami in January. We get real uniforms. Apparently, I'm the #1 seed for my company which is either an honor or a damn blight on American society since my current PR would have been about 1000 deep in a Boston Marathon of the 1970s. Either way. I get airfare and 4 days in Miami covered by the company. It's unreal; I'll take it. ------------------ The Penguin. Vis-a-vis malarmour comments. Allow me to clarify my apparently elitist comments made last night referencing Penguins and underarmor. ARMOUR. ARM--OUR? OUR? What's up with that spelling? Fancy schmanzie indeed. Look. Do you want this fucknut in your corner? He's Doctor Terminus from Pete's Dragon wheeling his quack cart into Pashamaquody marathons all over the world selling mediocrity packaged up on nice tee shirts, appearance fees, and lucrative lecture circuits to lemmings. He's a defender of mediocrity and complacency. He's the televangelist of the running world. In the Runner's World batmobile that tours the country and descends on races in major cities, he's like the anti-superhero, the everyday superfriend in the Penguin uniform with the ham sandwich there to balance out the ubiquitous, anti-Penguin, and father of Yasso 800s, Bart Yasso and the oiled, chiseled Adonis with the French Foreign Legion hat -- him. He sits in the back of the batmobile crosslegged and reads the map. He's found the perfect market -- people that give up. There's lots of them. Lots of pitiful cash. Lots of sad, could-have-been stories out there. Everyone else writes books about how to run faster, this dude cornered the market on books about running slow, suck-ass times and LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT! In my book you're a 'Penguin' when you don't aspire to do shit with your life. You shuffle your way into excuses and sloth. If you don't like your times, no worries. Just be complacent that you're a statistic in a long list of racers that no one gives a flying flip about. If you want to read this book Marathoning for Mortals: A Regular Person's Guide to the Joy of Running or Walking a Full or Half Marathon.... Or walking? Then on your way to pricing out your mid-size burial plot, stop by the Penguin booth and pick up your complimentary pig ears. You don't need to run fast to sideslip this snakeoil. You need to look yourself in the mirror when you ran a 4 hour marathon and get pissed off, dedicated, and committed to go qualify for Boston.