Mini-achievement

About a week ago I completed the mini-marathon, my fourth in as many years. I would brag much more but I'm only now able to type without some part of my body screaming and I'm still icing a knee. For those of us who simply point to the mere survival of the 13.1 mile trek as their major athletic success for the year, it's more maxi than mini. The Indianapolis 500 Festival Mini Marathon participated in by the serious and the silly is a study in human nature, bravado, guilt, perseverance and sadomasochism. It's also a hoot.

The only slight downer besides the pain experienced by the grossly under-prepared comes at the beginning. From my vantage point towards the rear of seeded starting corral ZZZ it takes longer for me to walk up to the starting line than it does the front runners to make it to the Speedway oval and the half-way point. As the excited announcer talks about the leaders rounding Tony's place, I adjust my various braces, my shoes, and my boys, and punch my Timex. At my breakneck pace, I could have started the night before and still not beaten the Kenyans.

But the sardine-in-waiting start is well worth it. The great part about the Mini is all the absolutely wonderful and crazy volunteers including a couple of guys named Mitch and Greg and a host of local residents who tirelessly hand out water, Gatorade, encouragement, live music and entertainment to the self-inflicted sufferers. The path leaves downtown and then snakes out to the middle class neighborhoods, factories, and small businesses adjoining the Motor Speedway and then makes the return trip to the high-rises.

But towards the end of the journey is my personal favorite other than the jog to the finish line: the Hi Neighbor Tavern on west 10th. Every year that I've passed this liquor landmark, the friendly bikers and biker babes, cheerful wannabees and dazed bar flies have belted out cheers and handed out adult liquid encouragement as the parade passes. This year I ambled past, deferring a brewski till later, listening to the strains of "You don't have to call me Darlin', Darlin'". As always, the Hi Neighbor delivers a smile. Time for another bag of ice and to re-up for next year.