Monday, April 11, 2005

13 days left

Lucky 13.

The race is a little less than two weeks away, and I can't wait.

At this point in the game, some people would be worried about nagging injuries, or diet, or getting enough sleep, or fine-tuning their last wills and testiments.

Not me.

What's keeping me up at night is my hair. Look at the picture on top of the blog, taken back in November. Look at the picture over to the right. That's from a month or so later. Hellooo, Elvis!

Guess what?

I haven't had a haircut since I began training. At first, truth be told, it was just laziness. Then, I started using the race as an excuse. "i'm not going to get a haircut," I said. "I want to look like Steve Prefontaine, my flowing locks following me across the finish line."

But now, my hair is longer than Pre's. It's long like Slater in Dazed and Confused. It's long like Axl Rose. It'l long like Bo Derek in 10, though not in braids. My girlfriend hates it. My sister hates it. But bad girls think its sexy. And I'm a bad, bad man.

But it's in my eyes and I'm beginning to feel a little like that sheep dog who battled Wile E. Coyote in Loony Toons.

Unfortunately, now, it's a Thing. Now I'm worried that if I cut my hair before the race, it will be bad mojo. What if my hair is the source of my strength? What if I play my own Delilah to my own Sampson? Would that be perverse? (What if I put biblical references in each post?)

So, should I shave it off for aerodynamic purposes, or should I continue my exsitance as a dirty, stinky, jogging hippie?

It's a hairy problem.

One thing's for sure: I will not put it in a pony tail. I WILL NOT BE THAT GUY!

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