The First Step

The last time I had reason to run, not counting any rabid dogs or mistaken officers, was a little more than four years ago, when I starred on Washington Township's junior varsity track squad, lapping spectators at an alarmingly rate.

All eyes would be on me during the last 100 meters of the 3200 as I would "bring it all in" for the team, including the dust of my competition, allowing the freshmen to set up hurdles.

But I was also often the last person off the track in practice too, logging in an average 40 to 50 miles a week.

The hope of spiking, whether from a growth spurt or from some revolutionary time-shaving gear, kept me moving.

Now 22, I've torn down my height chart, forever at a generous 5'9, and boxed away all my consolatory medals - both of them.

The time away from running may not have done me well from the look of things, such as my extra affectionate love handles, but it has done worlds for my confidence.

In other words, I'm as convinced of being a faster, stronger runner as I am of being delusional. Forget about my foot speed, my endurance or what my watch says -- I'm just faster. Somehow, this is true.

Unfortunately, one can't win a race on confidence alone.

For the past month I've been training for Aug.4's Sea Isle City Island 10-miler, starting with a trial four-mile race on July 4 in Pitman.

With the temperature ideal and the course marked clearly, excuses were hard to find so I improvised and arrived late.

The first mile, the run in shame as I coined it, was aptly my slowest, setting the pace for a 30:16 finish, two seconds shy of my fastest uncle.

People estimated I was anywhere from two minutes to 15 minutes late, meaning I could've had the current course record if it weren't for that regrettable price-check on sunscreen during a Wawa pit stop.

The lotion should come in handy this weekend with the 10-mile course being one-quarter board walk, seven miles of sand and the rest beached jellyfish.

The starting time may be 5:30 p.m., but I'm not expecting to run in any five o'clock shadow.

Although it wouldn't be my first 10-mile race, it certainly looks to be more challenging than the cupcake course of Philadelphia's Broad Street Run, which I coasted in 68:28 in 2006.

I've examined the course more intently than a metal detector, crunched the numbers and devised a workout regimen meant to simulate the beach-running experience, thus giving me an edge over the expected field of about 1,200 runners.

While averaging about 20 miles a week of running, I worked in such exercises as the
"sand-castle hurdle", "the sand-box shuffle" and lastly, the "sand-castle stomp", all while spritzing saltwater in my eyes.

No excuses this time, so long as there is no chafing. Or sand in my shoes. Really, you could tie a kite on to me because I'll be flying Saturday.

Either that or I'll crash and burn. Still, nothing that a little sunscreen can't prevent.