In case you missed Jon’s recent post. At the moment it is timely with the Red Sox down 2-0 to the Yankees. And while props are in order for Luff’s performance in the Chicago Marathon , it looks as if his own private Idahoe is slogging it out only to come up tantalizingly short in taking down Robbie’s OCD-inspired, butt-sagging, foam-faced Brookline PR…
My training took its first hit last weekend when I got my first cold of the season. So the past 10 days have been all about Cowboy Up. Feeling good heading into the weekend.
No Soap, Radio! 
After missing the sub 2:40 mark at Chicago by one second, I had to ask myself, “what does Cowboy-up really mean?” Obviously it didn’t mean what I thought it meant. As I shuffled through the final 100m trying to do my best imitation of Rob Monroe’s sit-and-sh_t (you really have to see Rob do this in a big race to really appreciate how diaper boy does it, but Narendra has posted a photo here for those who care), it struck me how futile it really is to try and “kick” in a marathon and how “kicking” in a marathon really provides the clue to understanding what it means to “Cowboy-up.” I know thick it means, “you kindof try and you can see the clock (or scoreboard), but really as you try and eek out that extra second or bunt in the winning run, the truth is you just kindof suck and really have no hope of achieving your goal.” That’s the lesson I learned at Chicago and my new understanding of the true sense of what it means to “Cowboy-up.”