Tahoe Bachelor Party: The End of My Running Retirement
Alright, so picture this: Tahoe. Crisp mountain air, killer views, and a reunion of my old college running buddies crammed into a cabin for Andy's bachelor party. The nostalgia hit early. I drove up the Springfield so Steven and I could fly together. We had long layover in Vegas and you know us, we couldn't just sit in the airport. Nope, we bolted. Explored everything we could see in a couple of hours. Don't worry, it was tame – no hard-drugs, no gambling, no strippers. What did we do? Went to the Venetian, of course, and recreated photos from our Venice trip fifteen years ago. Classic. Then, sprinted back to the airport to catch our flight. Yeah, we're those guys.
Anyway, back to Tahoe. We hit up Mt. Rose for a hike, which was seriously epic. Postcard-level views. Naturally, Steven and I decided to race down. I'm still surprised we both made it out alive. Next day? Boat day! Tubing on Lake Tahoe, which was just as awesome as it sounds.
Then, boom, the Olympics. We're all glued to the TV, watching the 10k. Man, that was electric! The whole room just exploded. It was like a shot of pure running adrenaline straight to the heart. Watching that race reignited something, a competitive spark, and clearly, I wasn't the only one who felt it.
Later that night, probably after a few more beers, someone (probably Steven) threw out, 'We should run a marathon!' Not which marathon, just a marathon. We all agreed that if we were going to do this, we had to throw down a semi-respectable time. We loosely agreed that sub-3 should be the number. Enough for us to qualify for Boston, but not crazy enough that it would be "difficult" – I mean, that's only 6:40/mile. Basically, we could do that right now, right? I was cocky and delusional. And like a bunch of idiots, we all went, 'Yeah! Let's do it!'
We're kinda notorious for these crazy ideas. We've been trying to organize a team adventure race for the last several years. With this group and our diverse skill sets and athletic abilities, we'd be dangerous, but that's another point. Usually, these ideas fizzle out. But this time? We actually grabbed our phones, started talking about training. Like, for real. So, the next morning, with everyone scrambling to catch flights, we set up this 'official' first run. Only two made the run. And me? I hit snooze. Big surprise, right? I'm sure my former running coaches wouldn't be surprised that I chose sleep over an early morning practice.
But even though I skipped the run that morning (oops!), something clicked. Being back with the team, the whole marathon challenge thing, it just felt… right. I left Tahoe with this weird mix of excitement and 'holy crap, what did I just sign up for?' It was like, my inner runner woke up from a 13-year nap, and he was ready to party. This wasn't just another dumb idea; this was the start of something. This was me, dragging my retired butt back to the starting line.
