Time to pay the man

It’s time to put a few bucks in the bank.

Well, not real bucks. And not in a real bank.

On Sunday, I’m going to spend the whole day at a family reunion with Mrs. Trail Boy’s big, rowdy family in Columbus, Ohio.bank_teller

They are a wild bunch — hundreds and hundreds of extroverted, fun-loving cousins, it seems. There’s going to be a pig roast, egg toss, karaoke singing, passing around of photo albums, long stories and basically, lots of everything. Every one is very nice and friendly, but it’s always exhausting. Plus we will have to drive three hours each way.

That should be worth a few bucks in the bank, I say.

Yep, in every marriage, there’s an accounting of funds.  Sometimes, you put money in the bank. Sometimes, you take it out.

For the last three Saturdays, I’ve made some pretty hefty withdrawals, running off to one trail race or another, leaving my family in the lurch.

My funds are low. I can’t just keep running off like this, having a great time in the woods, while the wife and kids stay home and scrub floors and milk the cows, or whatever they do.

It’s time to throw a few bucks to the teller, and get that bank account back where it needs to be.

Of course, it’s not a one-way deal. Trail Boy is a thoughtful guy, in his way. I often encourage the missus to take weekend trips with her family or college friends. Sure, that mean I have to take care of the kids, cook meals, plan activities and otherwise keep the ship on a steady course. But Mrs. Trail Boy is so appreciative. And I can just see the bank balance climbing up, up, up. 

So when it comes time do something I want to do to — travel out of state for a marathon or spend all day running through the woods at a relay race — I can stride up to the teller’s window with confidence, feeling like Donald Trump, knowing I’ve got plenty of bucks in my account.

Because there’s nothing worse than getting an overdrawn notice when you least expect it.

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BEST MUDDY SHOES I’VE SEEN IN WEEKS…..

I found this photo at a blog called “Run Trails Forever,” written by a guy named Nick.

That’s some impressive mud, Nick!

Yep, just when I thought I had seen some of the gooiest glop to found on the trails, Nick found some even better.

Nick doesn’t say where this shot took place, or how it affected his performance. If he did, I missed it.

But I did few clicks on Nick’s blog, and found out he lives in Pickerington, Ohio. Hey, isn’t that near Columbus?

Yo, Nick, I’m going to be in Columbus on Sunday. How about showing me some trails? OK, I’ve got a plan. I’ll spend a few hours at the family reunion, then slip out with Nick to run 10 miles on trails. No one will ever notice.

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Every year, around this time, I feel like a square peg in a round hole.

It’s Indy 500 weekend. If you live in Indy, like I do, you get bombarded with racing news and reminders everywhere you look.

It’s all over the radio and TV. It’s on billboards and signposts. Everyone’s got a checkered flag in their yard.

I’m not a motorsports fan. It’s just not my thing. As I see it, you sit in the bleachers at a racetrack for hours at a time, under the hot sun, watching cars make left turns over and over and over, while sucking in exhaust fumes, and hearing loud engines. 

That’s no scene for Trail Boy.

I usually keep these thoughts to myself. It’s heresy to say this kind of stuff in Indy. You don’t want your neighbors to think you’re some kind of dangerous radical.

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I hate to do it, but I’m taking a rest day. My right ankle is pretty calling the shots on this one. If I don’t let it rest, it will have the last laugh.

As a running friend often tells me, the first rule of training is to make sure you show up at the starting line healthy. Consider this a small step in that direction.

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One Response to “Time to pay the man”

  1. your becoming a marriage advice blog along with your trail adventures? lol. have fun in c-bus and don’t get too rowdy with the O’briens. =)

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