The move to the Convention Center turned out to be a hit.
The AlterG Antigravity Treadmill swept me off my feet as I traveled through time and space. Physical therapist John Feeley had locked me in and I was floating, wearing what looked a cross between a rubber suit and a tutu.
We started at 100 percent gravity, which for me estimates to about 242 earth pounds.
At 90 percent, I began to pick up the pace and pick up my feet using muscles long dormant.
At 80 percent I was back in high school running the 220, lifting my front legs high, skipping off the ground. (Inquirer colleague Michael Matza got it on tape.) But after two minutes, I was back down to earth and reality, 100 percent gravity, sweating for five minutes, but my soaked shirt made it seem like it was 20…
This model, cost of about $35,000, was signed by Tom Brady in 2012, which probably could double its price. He had this version but has since upgraded to the next level, probably signed by Neil Armstrong, circa 1969.
It wasn't just an uplifting experience presented by the MossRehab Running Clinic in Elkins Park (@mossrehab #MyMossChallengeBSR). It was the highlight of the bib pickup for Sunday's Broad Street Run.
Sarge was there, decked out in a black suit, his trademark fedora and a gleaming World Series ring. Gary Matthews wasn't running but he certainly commanded the most attention as he helped out at the Phillies promotional booth.
Not much freebie food -- some good granola, energy drinks and cookie dough shots of coffee from Dunkin Donuts – but these runners were either in and out, or browsing for bargains, which needed some serious shopping. I got a pair of $120 shoes for $50.
But the day started more humbly. I walked 20 minutes on the treadmill at the Rowan Rec Center, then did some extensive stretching, trying to make sure my testy right hamstring would quiet down.
As I lay prone on the mats, in what proabably appeared to be a leisurely position, one of the elder stateswomen concluded that it looked like I needed to work a little harder or else I might fall asleep.
Another ardent daily exercise enthusiast chimed in that "you should see him when he has the towel over his head as he stretches." Now that had some merit and I had previously promised anyone within shouting distance that if I ever were to snore, it was OK to give me a quick whack on the head.
So as my testosterone shriveled inside my body, I quietly walked away, put on my sweat shirt and headed home. Everything else seemed fine until I finally got to the bib pickup and saw that I was in the Pink Corral. So for the hell of it, I bought a pair of red socks, Boston Strong. Go ahead, make my day.
Next up was a trip to the Turf Club and Derby fever. Last year, I somehow had someone summon me, as my iPhone kept autocorrecting OTB to Orb. So I covered Orb and had Normandy Invasion not chucked it in the last 50 yards, I'd be rich.
So let's get rich this time. There will be a winning bet on Wicked Strong, named after the Boston Marathon slogan and son of Hard Spun, 2007 Derby runnerup. There will be win bets, exactas and triples with California Chrome and Tapiture.
I will see you at the window, cashing tickets. The only color that will matter is green.
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