It’s called the Donut Dash 4-4-4-4 and it’s scaled down a bit. Two mile run, four doughnuts, and two miles back. If you’re still squeamish, you can eat six doughnut holes instead. Proceeds benefit the Child Life Program at Sutter Children’s Center.

He has done pretty well at other distances, too.

I’ve never smoked, but I thought then – and still do – that Johnny Smoke was a very badass dude. I’m not sure how effective the ad was in reducing smoking, but the coolness factor probably negated the message.

The Boston Marathon has 28 medical tents, roving teams of volunteers with portable defibrillators every half-mile, and is now training runners and spectators in basic CPR during the marathon expo.

As someone who has both run marathons and suffered a heart attack – though not at the same time – I’m glad all these safety measures are in place. I just find it strangely amusing to have all these precautions for healthy people who are surrounded by thousands of onlookers. Every single one of those marathoners is at much more risk of dying while out alone during an early morning training run than during a race. And while you don’t run with a defibrillator (although I did for a short time), you should at least have a cell phone, road ID, and a list of medications and allergies when you run. I like running through lonely, deserted areas more than most people do, but you are at greater risk if something bad happens.

I didn’t require a CPR team, but the best place for one would have been my living room. I ran 5k the day before my heart attack, and swam laps that morning. The heart attack hit while I was moving furniture – a cat condo, to be exact.

Statistically, I’d be more interested in a study that compares cardiac events during a marathon with cardiac events in similarly sized, non-athletic crowds in one place for a similar amount of time – say, the spectators at a football game or rock concert. My non-scientific sample indicates you’re as likely to die from a heart attack while attending a Patriots game as you are while running the Boston Marathon.

Today’s winner is Patrick Fawcett, writing on Louisville.com. You’ll want to read the whole thing, but here’s a taste:

8:59 a.m. – Because we live in Indiana and must now fight our away across the Ohio River like it’s freaking Mad Max’s Thunderdome, we arrive at Cherokee Park in the nick of time. I slow down just enough so my kid can jump out near the starting line (don’t worry, like all Fawcetts, she instinctively knows how to go limp). I slam the breaks and T.J. Hooker it over the hood of my car. We have officially arrived. Prepare to suck it, fellow runners.

* * *

9:33 a.m. – My daughter has decided to stop running and waits for me to catch up. She’s such a kind and loving child. As I approach her, she once again gives me the “judgment face” and asks, “Pat, do you have any regrets?” Did someone say “Second Wind?” I bolt past her, giving her the middle finger the entire time.

9:34 a.m. – My “Second Wind” is short lived and I’m pretty sure that taste in my mouth is blood. My daughter glides past me, jogging backwards, giving me the middle finger.

* * *

9:42 a.m. – Crossed the finish line! Like the good sport I am, I moonwalk my way to victory, but refrain from pulling out and wagging my junk at the four people who finish after me. It is this kind of sportsmanship that has caused so many people to compare me to a young Arthur Ashe.

Hundreds of thousands of paper cups; countless packets of goos, gels, and sport beans; space blankets; and T-shirts all help add up to a rather large footprint for major running events.

The author then details the “green marathon” movement, but I’m with commenter “Spyder,” who wrote “What’s worse is all the excessive exhaling.”

I didn’t have any idea whether it was a 5k or 10k or both, so I stuck to my own route. A volunteer looked at me strangely – lacking a bib number as I was – and I said, “I’m just out for my morning run.” She replied, “We’ll cheer for you anyway!”

Later on, a volunteer waved to me to turn for the finish, but I had a mile to go. They’re probably still talking about the old guy who got lost on the course.