kyle cassidy (kylecassidy) wrote,
kyle cassidy
kylecassidy

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I think it's a big, and common, social media mistake that companies very often make thinking "if we have a social media outlet, fans will come", which is sort of true, they'll come, but if there's nothing compelling, they'll just leave. A few weeks ago Runner's World threw out a bone on Twitter, auctioning off some of Bart Yasso's racing medals for charity.

Wtf? Seriously? Own one of Bart Yasso's medals? I jumped in on ebay and bought one. I figured it was wrong to buy a medal from a race that I couldn't run, so I picked up one from a half marathon and decided that I'd run that distance to "earn it" -- in which way everybody wins, the charity wins the money, Bart clears up some space on his mantle, and, well, I get to run 13 miles.

I happened to be in DC that week, photographing Senators, but there was a delightful three hour void in my schedule where I was able to run around the Mall, North up to the White House, over into Virginia, get lost trying to find the Marine Corps Memorial, loop back around the Jefferson Memorial, then zig-zag across the mall, loop around the Capitol, top off 13.1 miles and see an awful lot of the most beautiful places of Washington.




My Bart Yasso Medal Half Marathon in DC.
Clickenzee to Embiggen



One thing I've heard a lot of people say is that running clears their heads and lets them think about things -- and that seems to make sense. It's hard to get distracted when everything hurts, and there's an inexplicable joy in the pain and everything starts to turn into a dull buzz and at some point your brain detaches and it's able to function above the cloud of how awful it is to be running -- because it's not really fun -- it's as unpleasant as you think physical exercise is, but ... but there's something glorious in it too, which I can't exactly explain.

So I ran and I saw lots of presidents. And I was pretty much done by mile 9, but you don't quit at mile 9, so you gut it out, and somewhere along the way is this glorious realization that you can gut out four miles and you realize that the thing that exercise has taught you is that it's ok to be uncomfortable, and it's ok to be uncomfortable for a long time because there's a reward at the end -- even if the reward is just "Ah, now I've stopped doing this terrible thing" -- which kind of makes no freaking sense when you look at it written out, but it's true.




Bart won this somehow.








I spent a lot of time at the Marine Corps memorial, but that's fine.









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