Shamrock Morning

As I mentioned in my last post, I've always practiced excessive boasting on St. Patrick's day. Very few can celebrate their name sake the way Patrick's can. Of coarse, by noon most people are so drunk they can't remember their own name. I've accepted the fact that my patron saint is honored by excessive drinking and disorderly behavior. I won't, however, accept the fact that my day-long license to brag about myself has ended.

I'm proud to say, that my dilemma was resolved this morning at 4:15 am. I popped out of bed, threw down an energy gel, strapped on my gear and shamrocked nearly 16 miles. I ran for nearly an hour and a half before the sun came up. By 5 am St. Patrick's day celebrants were unbelievably waiting in line for the Old Shillelagh to open up and start pouring. When the sun finally woke up, I was crossing the bridge onto Belle Isle and witnessed a gorgeous sunrise over the river. I planted a water bottle in some shrubs and pretended it was a water station when I completed the 6 mile loop around the island. Unlike race day, however, there were no people, no cars, no animals, no noise. I could actually hear the current of the river and the splashing of muskrats in the inland ponds. I'm pretty sure I was the only one on that island. I guess that's fitting on a day that's my own. Happy St. Patty's day to you all. That Guinness will taste especially good this evening. Cheers.