Now that Broad Street is over, that means that I won’t be racing for several months. I have the entire summer to train on my own (long and slow, the way I like it), without worrying about any upcoming performances. And what does that mean? It means it’s time to get fat!

You see, there are certain foods that I avoid most of the year. They’re either too fatty or too sugary, and will slow me down. But if I’m not running against the clock for a while, there’s no reason that I can’t indulge in non-runner food. So here are a few staples in my two-week normal person diet:

It may not surprise you that I’ve gained a couple of pounds in the last fortnight, between such eating habits and the fact that I live a sedentary lifestyle (don’t we all?). But on Monday I begin to ease myself back into training. That means that I’ll have to start eating nutritiously again, and in a month I’ll be as bony as ever.

My team and I spent the weekend in New Jersey. But we were not at all in the same place.

You see, we were scheduled to go to The College of New Jersey (TCNJ)’s track meet, but I left to instead spend Easter Break with family. I was therefore warm and cozy in my grandparents’ house in Long Beach Island while my team sat, wet and shivering, in TCNJ’s parking garage.

I’m not gloating; that last part makes me feel sorry. After all, we’re a team. We suffer together. We wouldn’t be so close if we didn’t regularly endure such abuse—as a team. To have not been there and given my support makes me feel like I let people down.

But my family’s important to me, and Easter is one of few times during the year when we can all get together. To blow that off for another race—one of hundreds in which I’ve already competed—just didn’t make sense. Despite my romantic ideas of team unity, I couldn’t justify it to myself.

So I spent a few days training on a little barrier island off of NJ’s coast. I ran 12 miles up and down its main street (which resembled nothing so much as a rainy wind tunnel) and then rebuilt my body with scrapple and beer. And though I coudn’t be with my team, I’m pretty happy with my break.

I would like to take use today’s post to discuss a reoccurring nightmare I have.

This dream usually haunts me on the last day or two before a meet, when I’m an emotional mess (more on that in later posts).

I’m sitting down to a fine meal, eating an appetizer, then a very filling, multi-plate dinner. The food itself is indistinct, so that I’m only aware of how delicious- and heavy- it is. Then the dessert comes out, and I dig into that, too.

I’ll often be with friends or family, so that I’m joking with them as we pass around platters laden with food. We’re all in a great mood, and I can see everyone’s faces, golden and laughing in the dim candlelight.

Then a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and everyone disappears. I turn around to see that my cross country coach is standing behind me. He’s screaming at me, dismayed at seeing me at the table.

“Tim, what are you doing?! You have a race in 10 minutes!”

I jump up from the table and sprint through some sort of tunnel or hallway. I’m stripping as I go, thinking about how I haven’t warmed up or stretched, and how slowly I’m going to run. Then I reach a starting line somewhere (it’s always outdoors, on top of a grassy hill), and I see that the starter’s pistol is already pointed at the sky, ready to fire. I crouch down, preparing my body for the blast of the gun, standing in my boxers and Sketchers shoes and thinking about the opportunity that I wasted.

That’s usually when I wake up. It always seems silly that I was so terrified in my last few moments before waking. But then, when I’m laughing about it later on with my teammates, I think they understand my fear. I think that my dream is just another symptom of the neurosis that we share.