That’s almost 4 ½ months to train for the Falmouth Road Race. The last time I um, ran it was 1983, and my race preparation consisted of a chocolate covered donut handed to me in a moving vehicle as I awoke after a night of partying. Yeah, I slept in the luxurious back seat. “Here, you’re gonna need this,” chirped Tom Murphy as he commanded his vintage late 70’s Chevy Impala, nicknamed “the Millenium Falcon.” “Huh?” That was about all I could manage as I attempted to quell the queasiness forming slowly like a tropical storm in my gut. “We’re running the Falmouth Road Race!” We weren’t official entrants of course, so we waited by the side of the road near the starting line as the gun blasted and thousands of runners, joggers, plodders, and us, the dregs, followed the elite sprinters out of Woods Hole. I won’t go through the grueling mile by mile call of the race, but suffice to say, I ran some and walked some. The legs were there, but from a cardio standpoint, I wasn’t. After about 4 miles of relatively flat track, the last half mile includes a very steep hill up Falmouth Heights Road to a sharp left turn where the bright, glistening ocean appeared. The combination of heat exhaustion, alcohol and a chocolate covered donut converged and I joined several other misfortunates draped over the guardrail all calling out to the infamous “Ralph.” After giving my all to nature’s porcelain bowl, I turned to see it was only about 200 yards to the finish line and that the time read sixty-something. My goal is to finish the 2006 race in less than 60 minutes. I have my work cut out for me and the goal is “out there,” but the effort to reach it will have long term benefits.