On my bucket list, which I tend to revisit before or after having a kid, is to run a marathon. I know there are all types, all distances, but I want to get to the point where I can run together with a giant group of people and feel togetherness. 10k, 20k, 548626mm, whatever.
It all started sometime in the late 80s, early 90s; it was color war. We’d reach the mega race at the end of the series of races. Our team needed one more kid to do the major lap around the entire grounds; it was a rushed and last-minute decision. One of the head counselors looked around and then settled on me. He asked if I could run. I said ‘sure.’ Who can’t run? They psyched me up and sent me off. It felt amazing. I was flying. And we won. And ever since that, I have loved running and have always wanted to do it right.
I’ve made some failed attempts that ended in bad knees. But this time, I’ll do it right.
And it starts with not wearing shoes that are older than… my aliyah (coming up on seven years!) Or older than my college degree (yikes).
First stop: Tel Aviv on March 30th, 2012. Who’s in?
(By the way, the shoes are from Al Derech Burma, off the 38 near the entrance to the 1, between Beit Shemesh and the highway. Professional biking and running shop, where they test your feet to fit you. The owner is American-import Chaim Wizman, he’s really… wise. Highly recommended and the prices weren’t as painful as expected (500-700 NIS range.)
Whadya got: