Marathon number for sale:

Sunday morning dawned with great excitement and anticipation around Mr. Poppin's house, as it was the morning of the first of the Houston Marathon training series runs, the 20k downtown run. Naturally I got downtown in record time so there was nobody there except a few volunteers and a couple dozen runners. One good thing about getting there early, is that you have your choice of the portalets!

Race time was 7am so about 2700 of us lined up around 6:50 and at 7am we are off. My objectives for my first ever 20k race are several:
Run the entire distance, beat somebody (anybody will do), and don't run so slow as to be picked up by the coneheads (the truck that removes the orange traffic cones).
Those of you that have run with me at Memorial on Thursday nights, know that Mr. Poppins is NOT a rapid runner, but rather a plodder, slogging along at 10 minute miles, with an occasional incredible frightening burst of speed (usually downhill)  to 9:30........not exactly mach one.

At any rate I was pleased to report that things were looking pretty good for the first 4-5 miles, and I was on a mental high as I passed the OLDEST man in the race, 73 year old Fred Price....who seemed to be huffing and puffing in the warm, heavy air.
At this time I was averaging 9:40 for the race, feeling ok. By mile 10, my overall time had dropped, or should I say drooped to 10:01, and Mr. Poppins was noticing that a few of the people he had been running alongside for the past 10 miles were beginning to ease away. Houston was shimmering ahead, and getting nearer and nearer, when I passed the 12 mile mark, with less than a mile to go. Still running as planned, but now my average pace was 10:21 for the 12 miles. All of a sudden, I heard a lot of huffing and wheezing, and Fred Price, age 73, has got it in gear and has pulled along side me as if to say "SUCKER"... and with that he was gone, huffing and wheezing and striding ahead, Mr. Poppins not able to respond in kind. I did spot him a few yards out of courtesy for his age, something I never should have done. Despite my final efforts, which Mrs. Poppins thought heroic. Mr. Price finished ahead of me and came in 3rd in the "over 70" group, while I managed an undistinguished 70th of 87 in the men's 50-54 masters. 1105 overall of about 2400 runners was my only face saving statistic.
I have a registration for the 18 mile wall run on December and another registration for the Houston Marathon in January - for sale if anyone wants them......
Seriously, you just wait Mr. Price - I'll get you yet!
Mr. Poppins

Mr. Poppins gets a lesson in humility:

As most of you know, for some unknown reason (for which I shall plead temporary insanity), I decided that on my 54th birthday(December 3rd), I would run the 18.6 mile, ¾ marathon race in Sugarland – this following within 16 hours, the 100 mile downwind ride made on Saturday.

For those sad, socially depraved (or is it deprived) souls who actually READ my e-mails, you might remember a little squib I did a few weeks back about an elderly 74 year old gentleman named Mr. Price, who taught me a few lessons about sprinting to the finish line in a 13.2 mile race in Houston.

In that e-mail, I vowed to use whatever treachery at my disposal (it is considerable) to prevent the aging septuagenarian from thrashing me again.  I am embarrassed and disappointed that in spite of a valiant effort by the Birthday Poppins, and a personal best record to boot, the ENTIRE septuagenarian team defeated me during the critical miles 15-18.6 (when I thought I had safely tucked the race in my pocket and stopped to go to the bathroom). I was forced to accept yet another humbling defeat at the arthritic hands of not one but TWO 74 year olds. It was cold, windy, and spitting rain as I carefully followed my race plan through miles 1-6, which was to not go out too fast, watch the heart rate monitor, and pass anyone who runs stooped-over and has whitehair, and is named Fred Price. This part of the race I executed flawlessly. I’m in the groove, running lightly, and having fun, if torturing yourself in 36 degree weather can be called fun.

Then like some flashback from a Freddie Kruger movie I begin to hear behind me, the unmistakable sound of someone dying from bronchitis, a rasping h-e-e-e-e-e-h, w-h-e-e-e-z-e, h-e-e-e-e-h, w-h-e-e-e-z-e-, h-e-e-e-e-e-h sucking in all the oxygen within a radius of 12 feet. The hair on my neck pricks on end as if an evil being is suddenly in my presence – and 74-year-old Mr. Price pulls even with the eternally youthful 54-year-old Mr. Poppins. What I failed to perceive is that Fred (we’re now on a first name basis), was busy chasing down his archrival (let’s call him Methuselah) who is also 74. It seems that on my chosen date to drive Mr. Price into hiding, he is involved in a race to the finish with another of his species…..oh great!

For 3 more miles we remain within 100 feet of each other, generally me following him, just to keep an eye on this most devious of racers– and at mile 11, The Birthday Poppins pulls even with him and we exchange greetings, whereupon I learn that he has really got to go to the bathroom, but doesn’t want to lose sight of Methuselah. I wait, hoping for a bout of senior incontinence, which will force him from the race, but nothing happens. Fred is just running along h-e-e-e-e-e-h, w-h-e-e-e-z, h-a-a-g-g-a-h, h-e-e-e-e-h, w-h-e-e-e-e-e-h,and sounding a bit like a Monica Seles tennis match. Suddenly he veers off to the portacan and I utter a quiet cheer, and concentrate on Methuselah – just up ahead. At mile 15, I’m ahead of them both, but not by much. At least I can’t hear Fred, but now the tables are turned as my constant slurping of PowerAde at the water stations have taken a toll on my own bladder and now it is I who must make the pit stop.

As I close the door to the portalet – I hear Fred and Methuselah come coughing and wheezing past my door. With 8,000 layers of clothing, precious seconds tick off the clock before I am off again and in the race. They have vanished. I pick up the pace to 9:30 see where they are, but it is all to no avail. Methuselah is the winner today in 3:18, with Fred in at 3:19, and my actual race time at 3:21 (Fred and Methuselah get to start at the front of the pack!)

So the score going into the final and most important January 14th marathon is Septuagenarians 2, Mr. Poppins 0.