Me

I've decided to take a break from talking about me running and talk about me not running.  Although it is hard to write about me, I also find it hard not to write about me.  This blog is about running and it is about me...and Ed.  Ed had a great race today, but that is about him and not about me.  There is no me in team.  Well, yes there is.  How about that.  If you separate the words in team and put some back together, you get me and at.  Or even meat.  I like meat and I kind of like me and I use the word at alot.  So, team can mean many things to many people, but it takes the focus away from me, which it the point of this story.  Me, that is.  I am sore.  I was very sore from the marathon.  I could barely walk, but I had to work.  Me, walk, work, knee.  My knee hurt from undisclosed reasons mostly revolving around age and I would imagine  running 26.2 miles.  I have a 1995 Ford F-150.  It is old.  It has a tight clutch which makes driving with a sore knee fun.  Kneeling makes it even more better.  Throw in the fact that my quads were not working until about Wednesday and I was pretty pathetic.  When your quads don't work, it is hard to walk.  When you are walking it is hard to stop.  When your family thinks you are an idiot for running a marathon, you get no sympaythy.  Getting no sympathy takes away the focus from the whole me concept.  Look at me.  Help me.  Me no walky good.  Me want to do another marathon.  No one listens to me.  Feed me cake.  That is the other thing with this week.  I miss running.  I couldn't run, but I miss it.  I replace my ability to run with food.  Lots and lots of food.  Fooooooooooooood.  Cakes, chips, chickens, strombolis.  The whole nine yards and more.  I have a stomach ache from all the food and I still went to McDonald's.  I just finished a Big Mac meal.  Large one.  I did refrain from eating my typical double cheeseburge appetizer due to the fact that I had the stomach ache.  I felt that was the healthy choice today.  I do not understand, however, why McDonalds has two order boards.  I sat at the first one, even though it said go to the second one to order.  But the first one has a microphone in it.  Feelings of dread always hit me when I think what could happen if I go to the wrong order board and miss my chance.  Or get yelled at by Ronald McDonald.  "Sir, we told you to place your order at the second order board."  Why do they have the first one.  I don't get it.  I need to run.  Tomorrow I run.  I'm like a penned up horse all hopped up on chocolate that needs to be let out of the gate.  Enough about me for now.