Mama... come quick! I found my rhythm!

Just like Steve Martin in "The Jerk", I recently discovered something about my rhythm. Or rather, about my biorhythm.

Do you believe in biorhythms? Labeled a "pseudoscience" by some, I became a believer in the cyclical ebb-and-flow of awesomeness during the Torchlight 8K race in Seattle last Saturday night. I've created a fairly sophisticated illustration (below) to walk you through this race report. The chart flows left-to-right from the moment I woke up, to whenever it was I passed out.

7am: Wakey wakey eggs and bakey. Or just skip the breakfast and pour a beermosa. Feeling pretty good here. Yeah, sure... there's a race later, but that's a loooong time from now.

10am: I have a great idea... how about some yard work? After all, I've almost recovered from last weekend's bout with shovel-and-rake (in which I managed to fall on my head, be nearly crushed by a yard waste container, and strain my back in separate incidents). The awesome level is peaking. I'm good at yard work. It's hot. Here, have a PBR.

12pm: You know what goes well with yard work? Painting, that's what. It can't possibly hurt to spiff up the house a bit while I wait for race time to come around. In fact, if I have a beer (just one, mind you) the carbs might actually prove beneficial later.

3pm: On the bus to downtown. Fading. Just a little. A nap sounds kinda nice.

4:15pm: Race organizers recommended I show up at 4:30 to pick up my number and packet. After all, the lines will be huge. I'll show them. 15 minutes early, suckers!

4:20pm: Wow, that line moved fast. I guess now we... wait.

5:00pm: And wait.

6:00pm: Is there someplace I can lay down?

6:30pm: START! Alright, this won't be so bad. No, nevermind. This pretty much sucks. Ok, just settle into a pace and don't lose sight of that guy in the tube socks up there... stick with him! Damn, that guy's fast. He must be doping. Here, I'll run with this 11 year-old kid for awhile. There, that's b... hey, slow down! Little doper.

6:50pm: Running down 4th Ave in front of thousands of people waiting for the parade to start. Little kids jump out to high-five the runners. I want to acknowledge 'em. Really I do. But they're kind of pissing me off with all their "energy" and "enthusiasm" and what-not. Just run.

7:03pm: Ok, the finish line is just around that corner. I think I have one more kick left in me (so my wife thinks I'm a stud). Here we go! There, I can hear her off to the left cheering louder than everyone else's wives combined. Spirits lifting. Just. Stomp. The line.

7:15pm: Beer me, baby.

8:00pm: Now this is fun. I'm good at parade watching. Next year maybe we'll just skip the whole "running" part.

Seafair Torchlight 8K | Saturday, July 25, 2009
Time: 33:50 | Pace: 6:48 | Place: 189/2681 | Age Place: 11/187