VEGAS

Nike Town in Vegas, not pictured are the changing rooms that had white tile and old school lighting like a locker room

While in Vegas, the only thing running related (and street legal for me to write up publicly) I saw were some runners that irked me because that reminded me of my lack of foresight to bring shoes and shorts to kill 30 mintues in the AM in between turning my temple in to the Temple of Doom of a body.

As I was getting my Clark's Desert Boots shined on the last day by Francis, a Kenyan, you knew I'd steer the conversation in the direction of running after the usual current events banter that I assume all shoe shining exchanges go. Francis was a 10k'er back in the day in high school. I had to ask what his PR was to which he responded that they only timed the finisher. Talk about cut throat. Also, I gave him much respect for the marathoners out of Kenya. He dropped some knowledge to me about the 1996 men's marathon finishers in Atlanta; finishers 1,2, and 4 were Kenyan (3rd was Canadian, eh?).

Feeling the after effects of Vegas, I am glad that I am not doing the half marathon soon because I'll need to be in detox mode for a while.