Guitars & Radio & Wild Women! (Running On Empty) Chapter XLII (3/20/20) Under Construction

Living in Boston is so cool
when you live in the Back Bay

Where I got to run on the Charles
almost every day.

It was fun working
with Bobby and Tim
Not to mention
being back with Jim.

Tim & I trained very hard
for the big “Pru” race.

We wanted to win
so we brought in an Ace.

My second tour of Boston was a hoot, and because Fenway Park was within walking distance of the Prudential Tower where WVBF was housed, I got to watch a few Red Sox games from our third base suite.
The Pru’ was 52 stories high and had enough people working there that it ran its own 5K race, which Tim and I were looking forward to r.

Unfortunately, the Gillette Company, which occupied two whole floors, always fielded a big team which included a fast guy who won it every year.
We had some excellent runners on our team, and even I was picking up a little speed after hiring Thom Hunt, an elite runner out of San Diego, to coach me.
10329287_10152796853564307_7714084493952297065_nA couple of weeks before the Pru race, I had run a half marathon in Winnipeg with my nephew, Jamie Boychuk (pictured with me above), so I was in pretty good shape. Jamie, who ran track in High School, had run a couple of races over the years, so I suspected that he was itching to beat his old uncle. The first one we ran was a 5K, then the next year a 10K, and now we were doing a half marathon because,\ as coach Thom said to me, “Always take the young long.”
Jeff-Galloway-1As we were doing a little stretching just before the start, I noticed that Olympian Jeff Galloway (pictured above) was upfront with the local elite runners. I was not only a big fan of Jeff’s but had also read all of his books, which are considered the runner’s bibles.

When the gun went off for the start of the race, Jamie predictably spurted ahead, and I didn’t see him again until about the 2-mile marker. As I slowly went by him, I visualized him tucking in behind me and just waiting for the perfect moment to make his move. There was no way I was going to flinch by looking back, so instead, I just picked up my pace. I ran the whole race out of my comfort zone, which ended up giving me a 3rd place medal and a new PR time of 1:31.

After crossing the finish line and doing a little stretching while waiting for Jamie to come in, surprisingly, I saw Jeff Galloway cross the finish line.
Later that night, when I called coach Tom to give him my time and also tell him that not only did I beat my nephew, but I also finished ahead of Jeff Galloway. However, I said, “He was probably just dogging it.” Tom replied, “Well, that’s Jeff’s story; yours is, you beat him.”

Meanwhile, back in Boston, where we were preparing for the Pru’ race, Tim and I discovered that the fast guy from Gillette was a ringer from their New York office.
We decided right then to cook up our own ringer plan by convincing Hilliard that we needed a sports consultant for a few days. Jim’s only question was, “Just how fast is this consultant?” My reply was, “World-class fast, sir.”
Old-Thom-HuntWhen Thom (pictured above) arrived in Boston, he asked if we just wanted him to kick the ringers ass, or did we also want him to hurt him? Tim and I both agreed that he needed to feel some pain.

Race morning, the weather was perfect, and as we stretched a little before the start, Thom says that he has some good news and bad news. The good news he says is that he’s spotted the ringer and he does look very fast, but the bad news for him is; I’ve never heard of him, and I know the name of every person on earth who is capable of beating me.

When the gun goes off, we all head down a small incline and make a sharp left turn onto Boylston, then a right onto a small bridge that takes us to the running path on the Charles.

By the time I hit Boylston, the race leaders were already out of sight and seemed that it took me all day to get back to the finish line. When I finally finish, I rush over to Thom and Tim, who are stretching and when I anxiously ask Thom if he won, he aid said that was never in doubt.
As I begin my post-race stretch, the ringer hobbles over to Thom and says, “Who the hell are you” and when Thom tells him, he says, “Ah no wonder” and hobbles away. As Thom said earlier, “All the fast guys know the names of the faster guys.”

The Pru replayed a video of the start and the finish of the race in their lobby all week, and I never tired of seeing Thom run up the small incline to the finish line all by himself.
Then when the Gillette ringer finally showed up, he looked like a Duck-Billed Platypus as he gasped and stumbled his way to the finish line.

Later at dinner, Thom gave us the play by play of the race. The ringer, he said, went out very fast, so I just let him go before tucking in behind him. The way I made him feel my presence was by slowly pulling out like I was going to pass him. Each time I did, he would pick up his pace until he finally went into oxygen debt. At that point, I just put him out of his misery by blowing by him.
Revenge is so sweet, baby!

 

 

 

 

 

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