Two Gentlemen

The Steve Miller Band was right. Time does keep on slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future. Not to mention that my new legal name is Maurice, because I speak of the pompitous of love. (Can you believe that Steve Miller is still not universally recognized as the Wittgenstein of our era?!) But back to me and Cory. Cory is in Boston right now, preparing to run the Boston Marathon tomorrow. If all goes well, he will improve his starting position for the Comrades Marathon. If things go REALLY well, he will kiss all the girls at Wellesley College, whether or not he improves his starting position at Comrades Marathon. In any event, it continues to look like our Comrades race will really happen. We now have rooms booked in Pietermaritzburg for the entire time we're in South Africa. I confess I used a subterfuge to obtain them, telling the booking agent that I was looking for rooms for two gentlemen coming to their country for the Comrades race. Boy are they going to be surprised when Cory and I show up! We've been called many things by many people, but the closest we've come to being called gentlemen was before the New York City Marathon, when that Orthodox rabbi pointed at us and warned his daughters, "Now you see why I've warned you about gentile men!" At this point, we are 5 weeks out from our flight to SA and 6 weeks out from the race. I have my typhoid and Hepatitis A shots, my malaria tablets and Cipro. I have my Indiana University Cross-Country Team singlet. I can only think of two things still missing. (1) A team name. Surprisingly, this is actually a requirement for final acceptance into the race. Considering how stupid it is to put our old bodies through this torture, I was thinking "The Crimes Against Nature", but Cory seems to think that is not a great idea. (By the way, it was right after I suggested that that he decided we should get separate rooms in Pietermaritzburg. What an odd coincidence.) We are considering "Two Gentlemen from Indiana", but there is that whole "false pretenses" legal thing. We have about two weeks left to come up with a name, so I'm sure inspiration will strike. If not, we'll just call ourselves by some random number. Like 46664. I'm sure that wouldn't raise any eyebrows. Anyway, the other thing that is missing is the brainwashing. I find on my long runs that when things start to hurt and there's still a long way to go, I tend to forget that this thing I'm doing is great and rewarding, etc. I tend to point out to myself, "You're the one who decided to do this; and you're the one who can un-decide it." If I can find a good brainwasher so that I cease to realize I have a choice, I'll be completely ready for the race. Actually, I think I've got it--the thing that will make my brain a compliant gob of jelly. Time to load my iPod with a continuous loop of Steve Miller! Space Cowboy!