This really isn't a significant landmark to observe.
Today, if I had my act together, I would have completed a 50-mile solo run from my house to Hershey Park.
I'm not in good enough shape.
And while I love putting my body through hell.
My body likes to punish me in return.
I did not do the run.
Or plan the run.
Or figure out the hardest part.
Like how to get back home from a point-to-point 50 mile run.
Absent, to my knowledge, any public transportation options.
But I should look into it because.
Last night, I was fortunate to sit down and watch some TV with my wife and little brother.
And I don't watch TV.
But it was a show where these people bid on storage units.
It probably has some predictable name like Storage Wars: Clash of the Junk Collectors.
And as the clock had ticked past 10 o'clock, I quipped:
"Still not sure if I should run to Hershey Park tonight or not."
That was not well received.
Possibly due to my previous, related attempt to bike to Hershey Park.
Which ended just short.
Dehydration and time factored against me.
To conclude this landmark observation, I'll put out that.
Had I run.
The weather was PERFECT.
And a nearly FULL MOON.
And the HERSHEY HALF MARATHON was today!
I would have arrived at about 10AM.
And walked up to the Race Finishers tent and enjoyed the post-race spread.
Yeah yeah, in return I would have donated to a Hershey charity.
I would have.
I still might.
I have no idea when the next PERFECT time for this run will be.
Hopefully, it is after I do logistically address my return trip home.
And train sufficiently.
Which brings me back to reality.
I did knock out about 10 miles this morning.
Beautiful fall weather.
Leaves on the ground.
Leaves changing color.
The smell of leaves enveloping my route.
I ran fast, too.
Faster than my last few 12+ min/mile race paces for certain.
And I felt great.
A fair amount of leg pain.
Like, "Mike you're pushing us a little too hard, Love, Your legs."
That type of great, well-deserved pain.
And wouldn't you know.
Nearly 2 years after the original incident.
Not 24 hours after my confrontation with public displays of yelling and anger yesterday.
With less than a quarter mile before I reached my house.
I started to walk. My cool down.
And a truck came down the road in the opposite direction.
And the gentlemen looked at me.
The weary runner.
And he waved.
A friendly wave.
Which in terms of significance.
2 Years ago I thought this same man was going to kill me.
Or make me injured.
As he had yelled at me on a nearby road.
He in his truck.
Me nearing the end of an 18 mile run.
But the following day.
And I've told this story before.
It turned out he lived in my neighborhood.
Saw me at a neighbor's house.
Pulled up, and stopped along the street.
In the same truck he drives when he yells at runners.
And he approached.
As I saw my life flash before my eyes.
He held out a hand. Apologized for yelling.
And we hugged.
So to have this man wave to me this morning.
I can say.
My run, not the epic run I had dreamed of.
My run was still sweet.