OK, I'll start right out and say I am claiming Dr. Sheehan's title with this post. Not because I think I deserve it, quite the contrary, rather, it's been what I've been thinking about lately as it relates to, well, running and being.
Then, I will say that I lay claim to a bit of an insider's track to the late great Dr. Sheehan as he and my grandfather, Stanley O. Wilkins, were neighbors (literally) in Red Bank, NJ in the "50's and '60's. My grandfather treated jockeys and other detritus from the Monmouth Race Track and Doctor Sheehan, well, he treated the rest of us.
And, needless to say, he lived much longer than my grandfather.
But, he also left an incredible legacy.
I remember being out on a run with my good friend Kevin Sawchuk seven or so years ago and we were discussing mortality, as one is wont to do on a long run in the mountains, in the early morning hours on a January day, and I asked him what I thought, at the time, was an innocent question,
"If you had to choose between these two things what would you pick,
One, you get to run Western States 100 and you have the race of your life eclipsing your PR by an hour and getting a jacket from Greg for your efforts and the Silver Buckle to boot...
And never run again.
You never run Western States, or any other race, and instead, you get to run three miles a day, every day, no more, no less, for the rest of your life, until you die.
What would you choose?"