How breakfast saved my life...
Yesterday, I ran the Boston Marathon. I was on pace to finish the race around 3 pm. But I was also feeling the effects of a few too many plates of eggs and bacon during the months prior to the race. Let's face it. I was too chubby for optimal marathon performance. And thank God. Had I been any faster, there's every chance I would have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there's every likelihood my family, friends and colleagues would have been cheering at the finish line. It's a scenario that came very close and it fills me with a mix of distress, anger and outrage.
But I was lucky. My last few miles were slow enough that I was stopped about 1 km before the finish line. And my kids (bellies full of scrambled eggs) overslept for their nap, which meant they and my wife did not quite make it to the finish line.
Others were not so lucky. I feel for them and their families deeply.
As an Australian living in Massachusetts, you develop an interesting perspective on the good and bad of American culture. And what I can tell you from first hand experience is that Boston Marathon day brings out the very best of America. For 26 miles (42 kms) the course is lined with happy, cheering faces, egging you on to the finish line. About half way, you pass a long line of screaming Wellesley College girls begging for kisses. No kidding. And the vast majority of runners are in the race to raise money for charity.
For my part, I was running for Team Red Cross, and if there was any comfort to be had on such a horrible day, it was that I was proud to have done something to support an organization that provides critical relief when shit like this happens.
So if you have the resources and share my outrage at what happened, please make a donation to the Red Cross. I have never felt more strongly about making a shameless plea for donations.
Donate to my Team Red Cross fundraising
And be sure to enjoy every mouthful of every breakfast. Your time in this world is precious.