MY FIRST MARATHON EVER

Apologies for the delay folks...apparently running MY FIRST MARATHON EVER has zapped my sense of timeliness. But here is the post-race report; a week late, but still a nice long read. I'm not ging to lie: the process of writing this has been a little bit like giving birth--long and painful.

I did it. I went up against the juggernaut and I won.

It was not the run I had hoped for, not by a long shot. There were things I should have been prepared for that I wasn't, and things that I was prepared for, but never encountered. But here I am a week later--fully convinced I have achieved something super human--having run MY FIRST MARATHON EVER.

Ah, it feels so good to refer to it in the past tense.

I don't know where to begin with a race recap. I guess the beginning is the best place to start. I got to the starting corrals two minutes before the gun (poor planning on my part), so I had 120 seconds to find the 4-hour group and untangle my headphones before 2500 runners started pushing me forward. I didn't have a second to gauge my surroundings or get into the mood or give myself the pre-race pep talk. You know, that time when you go over the course in your head 1000 times, try to feebly develop a game plan, and stand there, like a horse at the gate, pumping your legs and feeding off the other people's energy. None of that, the second I plugged in my headphones I was crossing the starting line.

The course started on an incline, but I didn't even notice. The first seven miles I was on air. According to my splits I was doing an 8:34 pace for the first quarter of the race--that's my tempo pace. Yeah, I really should have taken that as a sign to slow down. We were passing by lakes and parks and quaint neighborhoods, and I taking in as much as I could, not realizing that I was setting myself up for a fall.

Then I got the stitch. Mile eight was the mile of damnation. It hit me like a screwdriver lodged in my right side. I slowed down, I concentrated on my breathing, but this stitch was coming on strong. Two miles later, after perhaps the most painful run anyone has ever done around Ft. McHenry, the stitch weakened. Unfortunately, the stitch would hang around for the rest of the race.

Although I was feeling good stomach-wise I decided to made a potty break at mile 12. I figured it would be better to do this now then have to scramble for a bathroom later. It was a two-minute break, but it probably prevented a longer break down the road. Gold star for me for running smart.

Despite the stitch from hell, I was still going strong through the half way point. I past the 13.1 mile marker at just under 2 hours (gun time). There were big crowds at this point because the half-marathon started here, relay exchange #2 was here, and the marathon passed through the point twice. The crowds gave me a big swell of energy going through mile 13. But then I turned the corner and they were gone. And then came something that I was not prepared for: the loneliness.

With only 2,500 marathoners, by mile 13 the pack had thinned out significantly. This was the point where I could only see maybe 20 runners in the block ahead of me. And I thought, holy crap, I have only done half of this race and I feel like I am the only one out here. This was the part I wasn't prepared for. In NYC it's impossible to be by yourself while you're running--there is always someone else out there. But at this point in the race I felt isolated and weak. This compounded with the eternal stitch in my side was not good for morale until...

At mile 16, a geyser of half-marathoners joined with the marathon course and the field quadrupled in size. It was like two rivers mixing. Fortunately, the fine people at the Baltimore Marathon fenced off the marathon route through this section. Otherwise, this would have been a messy area.

Mile 16 also began a six-mile incline section. Yes, six miles. When were they going to tell us about that? I've done plenty of hills in training...but they were Central Park hills, they go up and down, not up and up. With the stitch going off and on I pretty much gave up goal #1 for the race (finish in 3:55 or less), but chugged along.

Then I got stung by a bee.

Yes, a honey-making, stinger-yielding, yellow and black bumble bee stung my leg while I was running the marathon. Who gets stung by a bee while they're running a marathon? I do...apparently. I still can't believe it. The fellow runner who saw this happen also could not believe it. At first it felt like someone had stuck a needle in my thigh. I slapped my leg and something fall out of my shorts. It was small and yellow and bug like. I just didn't know what to do--I've never been stung by a bee before, what if I was allergic? That would be spectacular:

Person: "How was your marathon?!"
sRod: "I didn't finish."
Person: "What happened? Did you tear a ligament? Did you collapse from fatigue? Were you attacked by a pack of wild boars?"
sRod: "No, I was stung by a bee"
Person: blinks
sRod: "No, really, I got stung by a bee and had to stop"

Yeah, that story wouldn't do. So I just kept on running, stopping every now and then to make sure there wasn't any massive swelling or other allergic reaction.

As the six-mile hill continued I caved into the stitch and started inserting walking breaks. I tried to only walk through the water stations, but that wasn't cutting it. Every time I would start running after a walking break the stitch would flare up within a few minutes. Damn it. With every walking break I got a little more disappointed with myself. I had the energy to keep going, my feet felt fine, I was well hydrated, my stomach was cooperating--but I had just run too hard in the first third of the race, and now I was paying for it.

Miles 20-25 are a bit hazy: at this point I had just plain lost track of where I was on the course. Then I came upon one of the little pockets of Baltimorians that went all out in support of the marathon. There were small pockets of people throughout the course, many of them had gummy bears (yum) or tootsie rolls (yuck), some had posters (one of which read: "how do stickers stick to non-stick pans?"), and some dressed up (there were two pirates, two women dressed in neon robes and boas, and one guy in a foam muscle suit)--all of them were great.

However, at this point in the race (mile 22.5?), the entire block, mostly John Hopkins students, had come out in full force. They were on a hill and knew that it was a difficult hill to climb. They were handing out all sorts of candy and water. They were also blasting music from somewhere. It was so loud that it overpowered the music in my earphones. They started to play "Cha Cha Slide" and someone came on the speakers and said "Good morning runners! We're gonna help you get over this hill!" So, seeing that I had nothing to lose and that these people were here supporting us, I started to dance along to the song while I was running up hill. I felt my calves cramp a little while I was trying to criss-cross--which, by the way, is a very difficult move when you're running, never mind running up a hill--but I made it through the hill and had a nice little burst of energy.

The last stretch of race was supposed to be all downhill, but let me tell you, there was nothing downhill about it. At this point I was trying to get my second (well, probably more like my 15th) wind, but once I would gather up momentum we'd run into a bridge or a tunnel. But I knew the end was near, so I would try to distract myself by looking at the scenery (of which there was none at this point) or talking to other runners. I came across someone else who was stuffing from a stitch--her hand in the tell-tale position against her left side--and offered her some encouragement.

During mile 25 I saw my #2 goal (finish under four hours) slip away. I looked down at my watch as we entered the downtown area that preceded the finish line. I saw the watch tick from 3:59:59 to 4:00:00. Instead of hurting, it inspired me to keep going. I knew I only had one goal left (finish in 4:12 or less) and that was fully within my reach.

We hit the baseball museum and I knew it was the final half mile. There were lots of crowds here and lots of energy. I reached down to my iPod and forwarded onto the last song: "Move Along" by the All-American Rejects. Something about that song always gets me. Maybe its the opening drums, maybe it's the uber-positive message, but when I hear this song I just want to run forever. And being so, I've permanently assigned it the last song position.

The song starts and suddenly, as if music was loaded with caffeine, I get an tremendous surge of energy and break out into sprint. As we turn the corner I see a runner that is walking, and for me, there is no such thing as walking during the final stretch of the race. If my hazy memory serves me correctly, I shouted something like "come on, you're almost there" and gave him a slight tap on the shoulder. Of course, I had runner's brain and didn't realize that he might be injured, but I turned around and saw him running behind me. So I think that was encouragement well spent.

At this point the course goes through Camden Yards (not the field, but the concession area next to it) and suddenly all the crowds disappear for about .1 miles since no one except the runners is allowed in the stadium. On the other side of the fence, however, I could see thick crowds.

I came out of Camden Yards flying into crowds that were probably three or four people deep (or maybe one person deep, damn runner's brain). I started singing and yelling...only .3 miles to go. I could see the finish line...only .2 miles to go. Since I had been running for four hours any change in movement--including sprinting--came as a relief...only .1 miles to go. I tried looking for my wife and mom in crowd, knowing that I've never had luck finding them...100 feet to go. Then, through the music, I heard my name called crystal clear through crowd. Twenty feet from the finish line I turned my head around mid-stride and in the one spot I can focus on I see my wife's blue hoodie and my mom's beige blazer.

I crossed the finish line in 4:09:39.

I grabbed a Mylar blanket and wrapped myself up and let out a few sobs of happiness. Then I realized that now I had to fight through a mess of very sweaty runners to get water, Gatorade, and food. This was probably the worst part of the race: the whole finish line area was squished into a parking lot no larger than your standard Macaroni Grill parking lot. I'm usually fine in tight spaces, but this was really uncomfortable, since I figured at any minute someone could barf on me. And since I wasn't moving anywhere I started to feel queasy and just needed a place to sit--although with so many people, clear space was rare real estate.

I made it out of the runner's area and couldn't find the family meet-up area (although apparently it was right next to me--remember, severe runner's brain). And tried to make it to the back-up location: the gigantic fiberglass cow in the staging area. I couldn't even make it to this spot without having to sit-down and take the weight off my feet for a minute. I got up again, plowed through the crowd to the cow, set my Mylar on the ground and finally got to lay down. Eventually my wife and mom found me by the cow udder. They were all happy for me and I was just all smiles (except for the bee sting).

And that's pretty much it. We went back to the hotel, washed up, and had lunch at P.F. Chang's. I ate my plate plus the left overs of everyone else's. We walked around the downtown area a bit before going back to the hotel and spent the rest of the evening in the hotel room. Around 8pm I got hungry again--OK, well, I was hungry all day--and we did a Chipotle run to get delicious Mexican food (not the healthiest but I figured I could eat whatever I wanted).

On the way back to the hotel we stopped at the BP across the street to get water. As we were paying for the water a guy comes up to us and asks: "Are you guys the POlice?" My wife and I laugh it off and tell him we're not. Then a second later he asks: "Have you ever tried ecstasy?" My wife and I get an even bigger laugh from that and then bolted out of there and hopped in the car. We drove across the street back to the hotel and parked in the gated parking lot--sans drugs.

So that was my experience in Baltimore. I got the marathon under my belt and can now call myself a marathoner (vs. a half-marathoner). The funny thing is that I'm not more excited about it. Maybe it's because it's been lost among the hours of work and tons of other things going on this month. Or maybe its because I didn't run the race I wanted to and my previous race (NJ) was such a great run. I am happy I did it, even though it wasn't the race I had hoped and dreamed for, but then again, they rarely are.

I'm ok

I know, I know: leave a cliffhanger like "I'm gonna go run MY FIRST MARATHON EVER" and then disappear for a few days.

I've been pulling 12 hour days in the office this week and planning the wife's birthday party. But I am alive and well, and I am working on a post-race recap.

For now, here are some teasers:
- I almost missed the start!
- I was stung by a bee!
- I was offered ecstacy!

All that and more in the post-race recap.

One weekend down, three more to go

So this past weekend was FANTASTIC!!! We flew down on Saturday morning to North Carolina to revisit the place where we got married. Now this trip was a surprise for my wife, but I had to tell her on our 11 month anniversary about the trip because 1) I was afraid that she might book a trip for us and 2) hell knows no wrath as a woman who has not been given ample time to shop for dressy clothes.


There were lots of surprises for her (lots of stress for me getting this done behind her back). I'm at work right now, so I don't have time to go into major detail, but some highlights were:

• On Saturday night, a bottle of wine we bought on our honeymoon "magically appeared" at dinner. We met the winemaker and toured his facility on our honeymoon, when we bought this wine he told us that the wine would be good no matter when we opened it, but that it would be absolutely prefect if we waited until October 2007. Wife forgot about this bottle...I did not. She knew it was this bottle of wine because you can't get this wine any where in the states (the winemaker only makes a few 100 bottles a year).


• On Sunday night (anniversary night), we had dinner at the same place that catered our wedding. I was able to arrange for the chef to recreate part of the custom menu from our wedding. She was super surprised with that, but was floored when the waitress came out carrying the top tier of our wedding cake (something wife had also forgotten about).

There was also a run with a Segway and horse poop, but that's another story for another time.

It's been a busy week in the world of running. On almost the same day the Chicago Marathon melts down and Marion Jones admits using steroids to get her Olympic medals. My heart goes out to all the Chicago runners out there. So much careful preparation, so many weeks of diligent and persistent training and then a heavy handed reminder that you're still human. My friend was hoping to qualify for Boston and ended up adding 2 minutes to his time. I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him yet, but I know he feels slapped in the face.

I've done my rounds and it seems like Tom, Nitmos, and Jess are alright--and I'm so glad to hear that. Hot runs are hard...I can't finish them. Hot races...well...I'm sure it's like running straight into Hell. Recover well guys.

I've been working like nuts this week, so I might not get to post pre-race. If you don't hear from me by Friday night, then wish me luck for MY FIRST MARATHON EVER!

Super Month

So October (aka, "Super Month") came out of no where. Why call it Super Month? Well, consider the following:

• This weekend: escaping to North Carolina for the anniversary
• Next weekend: MY FIRST MARATHON EVER
• Weekend after that: wife's birthday
• Last weekend of the month: Halloween festivities
• During this month at work: two MAJOR projects due before the end of the month

No idea how I ever expected to get through this month.

But alas, Super Month is not the purpose of this post. I'm writing tonight to let everyone out there who is running Chicago this weekend that while I have my last long run this Sunday morning, I will be rooting for all of you...and hoping that you watch your step at the finish line. Good luck guys! You're all Kenyans this weekend.

The Best 13 Miles Ever...well, almost

Quick recap of yesterday's run.

It was 13-miles through the hills of Central Park: more classic you can't get. I told myself I was going to run those 13 miles in 1:50 or less, so as to set a PR for the Half-Marathon distance (ok, I would have been .1 miles off).

Weather was in my favor--which I've learned is about 50% of the battle during long runs--clear skies, a breeze, mid-60s. I set off running and wouldn't you know that the NY Road Runners are having a marathon tune-up run in the park. Excellent! I get a race atmosphere and race amenities (i.e., water stations and Gatorade) without having to sign up for the race. **A note on etiqutte: yes, it is wrong to take water and gatorade from those who pay for it, but have you seen the mountains of cups left on the table at the end of a race? No one goes thristy on a race course. I used to feel bad, but now I don't.** So I'm crusing, doing fantastic time, until mile 10.

At mile 10 I got a massive stitch. My first thought was that I got a sudden kidney infection and my right kidney was turning brown a shriviling up. I had to walk. I had tons of energy, I was making great time, I didn't even need the gazillion packs of GU I had--but I could not take the pain while I was running.

So I walk-ran the last 3 miles. I hated every step I took walking. And when I did run, I couldn't muster speed without flaring up the 2x4 in my side. There went my PR.

Sigh. No glory for me this weekend. I guess God is saving it for October 13.

Two Weeks, a Package, and The Place Where the Cool Kids Hang Out

TWO WEEKS UNTIL MY FIRST MARATHON EVER!!!

The excitement is practically dripping off every word I say these days. I don't even have the patience to go through runs these days knowing that I'll be going head-to-head with the juggernaut in just two weeks.

To add to the excitement, my mom, who is coming up for support on race weekend, sent me a care package. On Thursday, my mom calls me at work and says "did you get my package yet?" So I go downstairs to check the mail room. There is a big box (6 in. x 2 ft. x 1.5 ft.) and my mom has fashioned a strap out of cardboard and tape so that I can easily carry the package on the train--this is why I love my mom. Thanks to FedEx, I can see what's inside the box because of a gigantic tear on the side: it's a foot bath, two bags of Epsom salt, bandages, and foot cream. A runner's dream come true. My beauty feet can now stay as pretty as ever...which is becoming more difficult with the high mileage.

One other thing: those Fountains of Running Positivity and Ambassadors of Hope through Hardship, Tom and Amy over at The Runner's Lounge, have taken their blog to the next level. The Runner's Lounge is now a fully outfitted social website for runners and to my best knowledge, the first of its kind. I'm signed up and you should sign up too. However, I'm convinced that only Marcy and Nancy read my blog, and they were probably the first two to sign up.

The Office

Haven't had much time to do much of anything this week: I haven't logged my training for the past two weeks, I haven't read up on blogs, and because it's Advertising Week here in NY I've had events all week.

But tonight I sleep and tomorrow I run. Baltimore is 15 days away and I must taper properly (more like properlyish).

I did get some inspiration before going to bed: watched the premiere of The Office tonight, which included a "5K fun run/walk race for the cure." Hilarious. Go watch it. Watch it now.

A note about weight

Keeping it brief today (in an effort to conserve energy for tomorrow's 20-miler--God I hate that number).

I started running, serious running, in the summer of 2004. Back then I had one goal: lose weight. Since then, I've quickly developed new goals, but weight loss is always in the back of my head.

For the past three years I've been bouncing between 200 lbs. and 185 lbs.. What I find amazing is how when I trained for my first half-marathon I lost a ton of weight (not sure how much, but probably went from 200 to 185). But for my last race I barely shed a pound, even though I was much faster.

I guess with a new distance my body has a renewed desired to lose weight because I've eaten like crazy for the past three months and have managed to lose about .75 pounds a week. I started training at 193 and this Monday I weighed in at 179--and I've still got more training to go.

I'm happy about the weight loss, but not for the same reasons I would have been in the past. In the past I worried about weight for health and appearance reasons. While those are still important, now weight loss means a faster speed, longer endurance, and being able to purchase clearance items at running stores (why is "small" always the only size on the clearance rank?).

So that's it. I'm going to crawl back into bed and sleep a bit more with the wife, happy that I don't have to run today at the gym (aka, "the fart factory," more on that later).

And just to keep you posted: we are exactly three weeks from MY FIRST MARATHON EVER! All you folks doing Chicago (and it seems like everyone is doing Chicago) I'll be just six days behind you.

Turkeys and Llamas and Emus--oh my

This post is a little late, but still worth it.

Sunday I ran 19 miles. Wooo! That is now officially the longest I've ever run. And not only was it my longest run ever, but it was also a great run. Here are the highlights/interesting thoughts:

• Weather was key to this run. We got a cold snap over the weekend so it was a beautiful 55ish degrees on Sunday morning with a nice little head wind. There was no cloud coverage, but it was so cool that it didn't matter much (until the last four miles...but more on that later). It was such a relief just to run in this weather that four miles (and one Queensboro Bridge) into the run I felt like I was still warming up.
• The new route was also key to this run. Instead of taking the subway to a starting point I started right here in Astoria. I only run in the neighborhood on Wednesday mornings and it is always the same route. But I started this Sunday's run with a tour of Astoria before hiking over the Queensboro Bridge. I forget how refreshing it is to do a new route. I also realize that I am running out of new places to run.
• I'm finally enjoying my music. One of the tell-tale signs that I'm deep into training (this week is peak week) is that I start dancing. Yes, dance. Ok, not dancing dance, but running dance. I listen to music on every run, but I hardly update my music, so the music loses its edge but becomes comfortable (kinda like a baby blanket). However, there is a point during training when even the song I've heard 1,000 times becomes brand new and I start singing along and kind of run-dancing. I know I'm in good condition when that starts happening.
• I love my new clothes. I admit it: I have a coordinated running outfit. I bought it two weeks ago with MY FIRST MARATHON EVER in mind. This is the second run I do with the outfit and both the shirt and the shorts are awesome. They stay practically bone dry through out the entire run and don't chafe anything (so far). The outfit is from New Balance but I have no idea what the model is; the shirt has a cool waffle texture and the shorts look like mesh but feel like cotton. Since I've gone on two successful run with this outfit I'll be using it on race day (which is only 25 days away!).
• Why do men have nipples? I experimented with bandages on Sunday. They protected the nipples alright, but I screamed like a Catholic school girl when I had to take them off. Perhaps I should have trimmed before putting on the bandages. Anyone have experience with nipguards? They may be the next step because there are times when I feel this will be me on race day.
• Was that a turkey, in Harlem? Why, yes it was. As I was rounding the Northeast corner of Morningside Park a turkey joined me for 20 feet of my run. I don't know how a turkey gets into Manhattan, but this one did...and it was running...maybe training to escape the impending ax.
• Was that a llama, donkey, and emu? Why, yes it was. Maybe it was a mini-petting zoo, but there happened to be a llama, donkey, and emu in a pen near the basketball courts on the Hudson River Park. What is probably more remarkable was that I was able to recognize all three animals from the split second I saw them.
• I successfully ran the last four miles of the run through Manhattan's version of Death Valley. I like to refer the stretch of Hudson River Park from 57 street to Chambers Street as "Death Valley." This long stretch of urban park land is a runner's nightmare: a very straight four-miles of uncovered asphalt that is baked in the sun all day and runs alongside an eight-lane highway so that any breeze the Hudson River might cough up is choked by car exhaust. Many of my runs have fizzled into fatigue on this Death Valley; and of course I planned the last for miles of my run for this strip of land. But I did it, making only one stop to refill my water bottle.

The Real Big Four-Oh...and One Mo(nth)

Ok, so it seems that THIS post is my real 40th post. Apparently there was a draft of a post that I hadn't deleted, which is why I thought I had 40.

So, for real this time: this is my 40th post!!! ::insert fanfare here::

For those of you who use a Mac, you know the wonders of the dashboard. At work I have a Mac and when I discovered the dashboard I was fully converted to an Apple junkie. If you don't know what the dashboard is, basically it's like a second desktop on your computer where you have mini-programs (e.g., calculator, stock ticker, gmail reader, weather, etc.) that are always running. Hands down the handiest thing on a Mac. (I swear, this will eventually relate to running.)

On my dashboard I have setup a count down clock to the Baltimore Marathon. My dashboard is pretty cluttered, so I pay attention to the clock about once or twice a week. However, this week, the construction on our floor FINALLY ended and we moved out of conference rooms and over to real desks. ("Real desk" is used loosely: at my agency our desks are actually made of scaffolding...I'm not kidding.) This involved a two day moving process and between that and my regular workload I didn't even notice that the countdown slipped under the one-month mark.

My realization yesterday afternoon: holy crap, I have less than one-month until MY FIRST MARATHON EVER! Over dinner last night I commented to the wife: by this time next month I'll have my first marathon under my belt and be dreading going back to work. Wow, it's so close. Less than one month is really, really close.

Naturally, the wife responds with, "do you think you're ready?" She's not the first to ask this question, and I always have a little trouble with this question. I have five half-marathons up on the wall already, and after the last one I felt great and could have honestly done another 13ish miles. So during my training for Baltimore I haven't really been too concerned about completeing the race: I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to cross the finish line, in some matter...in some amount of time.

Where my concern lies is how I'll cross the finish. Yes, I know this is my first marathon. Yes, I know that the full marathon is a new and different beast. And yes, I know I should take it as easy as possible. But when you get down to it, I'm still a 20-something competitive male that is too stubborn to act better when he knows better.

Unlike Nitmos, I set my goals out early in my training under the philosophy of "reach for the moon because if you miss, you'll still land among the stars." Poetic, I know; naive, you bet. So I started training for MY FIRST MARATHON EVER with the idea of maintaining an 8:30 pace. Mind you, my half-marathon PR is in the 8:40 range. It was doable the first few weeks, but once the intense summer sun hit, I adjusted my expectations a bit. Since then, I've been training with a goal pace of a 9:00 min/mile, but usually running at a faster pace.

Over the course of training, though, I have developed three different goal levels:

Goal #1 "Best Case Scenario" - Anything under 3:55:48. If I can do less than a 9:00 min/mile I'll be so happy I'll wet my pants...although they'll be soaked by the end of the race no matter what, so that's pretty much a moot expression. Given my performance on my good runs, this could be an attainable goal. This is a "nice to have" goal.

Goal #2 "I Can Do This" - Four hours. This is the goal I should be able to attain--pending no disasters on race day.

Goal #3 "If Nothing Else, Do This" - Less than 4:12:00. Yeah, this is an awkward number, but there is rationale behind it. Unfortunately, I can't share the rationale here. Sorry guys.

I realize that these are packed pretty close together and there is a chance I won't make any of them. But like I said before, I'm a stubborn 20-something guy that seems to have something to prove to the world.

That's it for now--hopefully I'll have a post-19-mile run write-up tomorrow.

The Big Four Oh

This is post number 40!! ::insert trumpet quartet flourish::

Ok, maybe not as monunental as posts 100 or 1000 (or 69), but it is a cause for celebration. Lots of topics to cover today, so let's get to it in a big four oh kinda way.

Today's run:
Ugh. Weather.com is now on my shit list. It takes the no. 2 spot right behind the hills in Prospect Park. The hour-by-hour forecast for this morning was partially cloudy, turning into mostly cloudy. Great, I thought, it'll be a little warm (80ish) but the cloud coverage will take off the edge. So I map out my route, put my play list together, gather all my gear and head out at 8am on the dot.

Funny, no clouds. Ok, maybe they aren't here in Astoria, maybe the clouds are just in Manhattan.

I get out of the subway at Central Park. Funny, still no clouds. So nice and warm, humid weather for 18 miles. If I had known that I would headed out earlier!

As I approach my starting line I hit play on Liam and hear "Proud Mary" by Tina Turner. Great song, I always start my races with it. Problem is, it's the same playlist I've had in there all week--and it only has 60 minutes of music on it. So now I have warm weather and the wrong playlist. Fantastic.

Then at about the five mile mark (still in Central Park) I see a flood of pink runners pouring into the park. Oh snap. Today is the Susan B. Komen Race for the Cure (for breast cancer). I'm all in support of the race...but if I had known it was happening today I would have not have planned to run three miles AGAINST the runners. Sheesh. If you're keeping track, we've got hot weather (yes, upgraded from warm), the wrong playlist, and 1000s of runners going against me.

At the one-hour mark I start injecting walking breaks. I've given in to walking breaks on hot runs: better to finish slow than not finish at all. These carry me on until mile 13ish comes around, and then it hits me: hunger. I take GU on my runs and have a pack about once an hour. But this wasn't "I'm tired and need energy" hunger this was full on "serve me a steak dinner" hunger--the type of hunger you have when you get home from work. Yeah, that doesn't work well when I have to run another five miles, and there's already heat, tired music, and 1000s of runners going against me.

So lots of things aginst me. But I finished all 17 miles. Woo hoo. I did not let it beat me! I finished in 2:54. Certainly not my goal of 2:42 (9 min pace), but all things considered, I don't think I did too bad.

Feet:
Marcy's challenge is too good to resist. So here are the feet in all their post shower splendor (and before mystery liquid from the trash bag spilled all over them):



My wife agrees that they're pretty--and in a husband's world, that's as good as Gospel.

Food pictures:
Went to the green market a few weeks back and went camera crazy, here are my faves:

Beauty Feet

Call me lucky or blessed or a genetic anomaly, but I have really nice feet. Yes, I know, runners don't have nice feet, but damn it, my feet are down-right pretty--you know, for being feet. All my toes point in the right direction, there's no gunk under my toe nails, and I haven't had a blister since 2005. If my feet were a dog, they would probably be some hand-fed Maltese that is always carried. Yeah, they are friggin prima donnas, but I do count myself as fortunate, especially considering the foot trauma people like Nancy have gone/continue to go through.

Enter the marathon.

Since this is MY FIRST MARATHON EVER, my beauty feet are doing things they've never done before. This week they'll be pushing 30 miles of running. This is uncharted torture for them.

At first I got the usual drying out of the feet. No biggie there. Everytime I've trained for a race the bottom of my feet dry out and peel. The only difference now is that it's happening on an almost weekly basis.

But in the past two weeks, now that the weekly mileage is getting higher, I've noticed the development of hard patches on the bottom of my feet...wait...those look like...CALLUSES! What the hell? Where did those come from?! I've never had calluses before: should I be worried? Will it impact my running? Do I have to get new shoes? (Yes, I too feel like this is wussy and whiney, but gosh darn these feet are pretty and I want to keep them that way.)

After some brief research I found that I should not be freaked out because 1) calluses are common for marathoners, 2) I only have the beginnings of calluses, and 3) I can easily treat them with moisturizer. Whew. So now my morning routine involves slathering on some heavy-duty moisterizer on my feet right before I put on my socks. I also take as many opportunities as possible to wear sneakers and have basically given up wearing sandals.

So far, the treatment has been a success: the calluses have gone away and my feet are back to pristine condition. Let's see what happens to them after tomorrow's 18 mile run.

Introducing Liam Grau

I don't think I've brought up the iPod situation before:

About a month ago, when I first broke the 13.1 mile mark, I sat on my iPod Nano. Yes, sat on it. I mean Winston (the name of that iPod) has been through a lot: he's been dropped on asphalt, drenched in sweat, and thrown across a room. But apparently, when you squeeze him between a 185-pound man and a hard plastic subway seat, there is no chance he'll come out alive.

So Winston died after almost two years of abuse. He will be missed. Here is the postmortem picture:



Since then I've had to use Winston's older brother: Isaac. Isaac is my three year old iPod mini who had been retired when I won Winston in a raffle. Isaac is heavy and bulky compared to Winston, but he still plays music. Although I found out on one run that he only has about 1:45 worth of battery life in him. So I've been running these past few weeks pausing my music during the easy parts and playing it during the hard parts.

During this month that I've taken Isaac back from the pasture I've been debating on what new iPod to get. There are the new Nanos: ultra-thin, cool colors, 8GB of memory, and they connect to my Nike+. The draw back is the $250 price for something that I'm going to beat up and sweat all over and most likely have to replace in a year or two (runners are a frugal bunch). But then there is the Shuffle: unbelievably small and compact, with a built in super-strong clip; it only has 1GB of memory, but comes with an equally small price of $79.

Decisions, decisions.

But thanks to my credit card, the decision became very easy. I have a bunch of reward points from my credit card and found out that I could use those points a get a free Shuffle. A free Shuffle or a $250 Nano? Um. I didn't have to do much thinking there.

I placed the order last weekend and the Shuffle arrived on Friday. I've named him Liam Grau. The rationale behind the name? I always give my iPods a full name: the first name is a very intellectual sounding name, because iPods are smart products; the last name is always related to their color. Isaac Verde (verde = green in Spanish), Winston Ecru (ecru is actually off-white, but sounded better than other options), Liam Grau (grau = gray in German).

I went for my first run with him yesterday and it was great (never mind that I didn't have to pause the music to conserve battery life). He was light and clipped right onto my shorts, which meant I didn't have to reach across my chest to fiddle with an upside-down iPod on an armband:



Welcome to the family Liam.

Rant and a picture

I have the apartment to myself tonight. My wife was invited to the Yankees/Red Sox game tonight. And I got invited to...the kitchen...to wash dishes...and then burn my finger while cooking dinner.

Lovely evening.

I'm at the point in training where I tend to mistake endurance for speed. I start off my runs feeling like a superstar because I've built up endurance. But since I'm feeling so great, I start to pick up the pace. The first mile is a gone in a blink. Miles two and three: I'm cruising, damn-near flying. Even miles four and five are easier than usual. But then mile six comes along and I start to get a feeling in my stomach that is somewhere between "where is the nearest bathroom" and "I told you so." During mile seven the feeling becomes compounded with "shit, I WAS going too fast" with a side of "why are my quads so tight" for good measure. Mile eight is torture. By mile nine I'm debating how to exit this run early with my head up. Mile ten is a slow, degrading decline into a walk while runners are whizzing pass me on all sides.

As you can guess, this isn't a morale booster.

To get my morale back up to where it belongs--since I am running MY FIRST MARATHON EVER! in less than 45 days--I've spent the evening on blogs/nursing my now-blistering finger. It gives me hope that there are other people out there in the same condition struggling through the longer runs trying to keep those feel going in front of one another.

I also revisited the Disney Half-Marathon I ran back in 2005, thanks to the disposable camera I decided to take along for the race. Note to all you Disney runners in January: take a camera! The disposable ones are cheap and light. You will see incredible things no other marathon can offer...such as Sleeping Beauty's castle:


Wow. That actually is an awful picture. Was I even smiling? And those people in the background...are they walking? How are people supposed to know this was taken during a marathon?

Oh well. That's my Disney picture. Hopefully yours will come out magicallier.

Ran yesterday

It was supposed to be 17 miles, it became 11.

I'll consider it a lesson learned.

Magic Nighttime Run

I rarely run outside at night anymore. But tonight the dreadmill was not appealing, so I decided to enjoy the cool night breeze and go for a 3-mile run in the neighborhood.

I followed the route of my standard Astoria Park route, which I've always run at 6 in the morning, when the air is hazy and a bit misty--it's very quiet. The turbulent waters of Hell Gate are normally still at that hour, and the tide recedes to show all the boulders that line the shore. There are rarely people around. Across the East River, you can almost feel the city waking up to the fact that the sun has risen, again, and that it must start the day. Even as I run under the Triboro Bridge the echo of traffic has a muted quality to it, as if the bridge is too groggy from the night to allow the full noise. Hushed--that is how I would describe the morning run on this route.

The same route, 14 hours later. It is surreal. It is dark, and the golden yellow street lights float and dart behind trees, almost like glowing fairies. There are people all along the route. But since it is so dark, they are faceless. During the whole 3 miles I cannot make out a single face. The waters of the river have swollen, hiding the river rocks and causing currents that go in so many directions that I'm surprised the water could ever find its way out of there. The city glows, literally: the concentrated bright lights of Manhattan reflect off the low-hanging clouds of the humind night. The skyline is razor sharp, each building with its own pattern of lights up its facade. The view is crowned by the necklace lights of the Triboro Bridge.

As I pull into the track for the final quarter-mile, I see backlit figures dashing around the track--it's dark enough though that they don't even necessarily look human, more like legs moving quickly without bodies. The dense tree population in the park makes it feel like I'm in a forest clearing, since any surrounding buildings are blackened out. As I finish the run and start my 100 meter repeats, the night fills me with a new energy and I float through the repeats. I hammer out the 100s, passing every indistinguishable face on the track and blurring the barely-lit world.

I exit the park and pass under the Triboro Bridge again. It is awake now--fully awake. The evening traffic does not ease as it tears down the ramp onto the expressway. And it seems louder now than it could possibly be--louder than car traffic should be. Underneath the bridge it sounds as if a herd of giant horses has been set free from Manhattan and is now stampeding over the bridge into Queens.

And that was my night.

Let's talk inspiration

I suddenly found a few free minutes this evening. So I'll take a break from talking about runs and training. How about inspiration? What demented, insane little voice convinces me to wake up at 5:15 in the morning to run 10+ miles before a 10-hour work day and do the same thing the next day? When I'm exhausted and dehydrated and sleepy and realize I'm only halfway through the run, what keeps me going?

Well, to be honest, there are a lot of factors. But about a year ago I heard a quote--as did everybody who watched Akeelah and the Bee--and this quote got stuck in my head. And when I got home I looked it up and printed out the whole paragraph:

Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,
but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves,
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
handsome, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest
the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine,
we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.

So, to be honest, I think this is the most amazing insight into the human mind...ever...period. I mean, think about it: naturally you think there are limits to what you can do. You know that if you touch fire you'll get burned, if you drive too fast you'll get a ticket, if you cheat on a test the teacher will find out, etc. You think there are limits because you've tested them and found them. You live knowing the limits of what you can do...you get used to them and accept them as the way the universe works.

But what Ms. Williamson is saying here is that this is not how the universe works. You can, since you are human, do anything: there is no limit as to what you can achieve. The limits you have are self-imposed--you can be, and have the faculty to be "powerful beyond measure."

...

Let that sink in for a minute.

...

It still blows my mind.

And how does this apply to running? Well, quite simply when I'm tired, and sore, and aching, and ready to stop running, I remember that I too am "powerful beyond measure." There's really no major difference between me and the Kenyans, or Lance Armstrong, or Deena Kastor. It stirs something deep inside of me. It keeps me going and makes me strong.

Finally, a great run

I went for my long run yesterday morning. 16-miles strategically mapped out to stay in shaded areas as much as possible.

I woke up at 6:45 am--so painful on a Saturday morning. By 8:30ish I was at Central Park, stretching at my usual starting point. The day was beautiful: it was in mid-60's, there was a steady breeze, and there was a brilliant sunshine that looked magical peeking through trees and around buildings. While not absolutely ideal conditions, it's the best you can get this time of year.

So I start my run. There was a 5-mile race going on in the park...and this time of year, I have learned, there is always some race going on in the park. But it's the tail end of the race, these are all the slower runners--so I get a great ego boost picking them off. The trade off is that I probably did the first two miles a lot faster than I normally would have--which worried me.

Per usual, I took a bathroom break at the one-mile mark. I always do a potty break at the end of the first mile of a long run, otherwise I would have to hold it in or hang around my apartment another 30-minutes just waiting for it to come out (and in the summer, that would mean more time in the heat). Also, this potty break tends to prevent any other biological movement later on in the run, but I'll get to that later. Onward with the run.

I run with the racers until their finish line--which is my 2.5-mile mark--and continue my loop around the park. When I start coming down the west side of the park, the women's race begins. As I approach, I see the cops clearing the way and the elite runners blasting off, faster than I could ever run. So I figured I will use this to my advantage: one of the coolest things about racing is how you feed off the speed of the people around you. You end up matching their pace and can end up moving faster without even feeling it. So I got close to the lane that the racers were using and just kept running alongside. I could feel myself going faster than I normally would have, but I figured it was better than thinking about how much longer I would have to go (another 12-miles).

For the first 2-miles the runners kept zooming past me, but it did help me keep going strong. I decided to turn off my iPod and just listen to the feet and the cheers of "great job ladies," which were awkwardly supportive to me. By the time we got to the southern bend of the park, I had fallen next to a group of ladies in my pace. I wouldn't know the benefits of this until much later.

I took a break from the asphalt by doing a loop around the reservoir. I broke out a pack of GU during this loop and stopped to refill my water bottle. When I came back to the road, most of the racers had already past. I did catch this one girl with a Team in Training shirt on, and, for the first time ever, I managed to talk to a stranger while running in New York:

Me: TNT?
Her: Yup
Me: What are you training for?
Her: Actually, I just finished my race, I did San Francisco three weeks ago.
Me: San Francisco? That's my goal for next year!
Her: It's a great race.
Me: It looks like a great race, but I'm just worried about all the hills.
Her: Yeah, it does have a lot of hills, it's a tough one.
Me: (grimacing) Oh well. Good luck with your run.
Her: Good luck to you too!

That was nice...let's see how long it takes until I break another stoic New York runner.

So I continued past the race's finish line...again...and then got to enjoy the .5-mile decline that came immediately after. I got out of Central Park and moved over to Morningside Park...which I think is one of the most beautiful parks in the city. And once I hit the perimeter of the park I got a fantastic feeling that nothing can stop me from running--which is a great feeling to have 3/4 of the way into this run.

And then I hit the climbing portion of the run. Not that Central Park isn't loading with hills, but those do not compare with the mountains of upper Manhattan. But since I'm in a such a good mood, these mountains don't really effect me. The only thing that's bothering me is that my iPod freaked out and stopped playing, so I had to reset it and start my playlist over.

On the other side of the mountains is Riverside Drive and the last three-miles of my run. As I was thinking "this run is going faster than I thought, did I miss a turn?" my stomach starts to bubble. Yes, bubble, like a friggin stew. It's been playing nice for the past hour and 45-minutes, and it wants attention--right now. Of course, this is the section of the run where I don't know where the bathrooms are. So I concentrate on breathing hard in and out, which helps calm down my stomach and buy some time...but I know I need a bathroom. I really hate my stomach/intestines/entire digestive track right now.

In my desperation to find a bathroom, I make a wrong turn at 98th street, thinking it's 95th street. About 200 feet into it I realize the mistake and just stop in my tracks--I need a bathroom now...and it turns out there's one right behind me. The wrong turn had taken me to a playground that happened to have surprisingly clean bathrooms. So I had my bathroom break...thank Jesus.

After that I hit the road again, knowing that I only had about two miles to go and I pretty much coasted through them, stopping once again for a quick water bottle refill. The most difficult part was the last few blocks because I was in the sun with no coverage whatsoever. But I hit my finishing line and stopped my watch. Two hours and 15-minutes.

Funny, that seems...um...fast, really fast. So I get home, I log my run at Map My Run and find out that my pace was 7.1 mph and 8.4 min/mile. This is VERY suspicious. I mean, its not that I haven't done this speed before, it's just seems a little unrealistic that I sustained it for 16 miles. So I double check my route. Yup, that all checks out, I didn't make any major deviations and I don't think I made any mistakes timing the run.

Right now, I'm having a hard time believing this, but it seems I have no reason to not believe it. Maybe it was the shady route and good weather. Maybe it was the racers in Central Park helping boost my speed. Maybe it was the downhill/flat miles I saved for the end. But I am quite certain I just ran a fantastic 16-mile run, a run that was at a better pace then my Half-Marathon PR. If I have this pace on race day I'll finish the race in about 3:41. Whoa.

Whoa.

Whoa.

I'll take this as a best case scenario. And what a best case it would be for MY FIRST MARATHON EVER!

A happy post

So looking back at the last few posts (and comments on them) I realized that I've been going through a negative spell. I guess it was just that point in the training where the mileage increases faster than your body wants to catch up. It has also been the peak of summer in the city--and it is hotter in the city thanks to all the asphalt.

But the good news is that I think I'm out of that negative spell for now. Tuesday I had a great 10-mile run (it was supposed to be 11-miles, but I made up for it in difficulty) and yesterday and today I had nice short runs. So I'm feeling really good today and looking forward to 16-miles this weekend.

Also, just discovered this today: http://www.thegreatestrace.com/. Sounds awesome...I would just need three friends crazy enough to do it with.

DNF

Did Not Finish. These three words have started to form in my head over the past two weeks.

Last weekend, while running in Philly in 95-degree heat, I had to start walking half way through my run. I had used all my energy trying to get through the hot parts of the city, so I couldn't make it through the shady park areas I has left for the end. Instead of a 15-mile run, it turned out to be an 11-mile run and a 4-mile walk. The heat competely got to me...and there are NO water fountains in Philly (I ran past a total of three). On top of that I had forgotten to charge my iPod the night before, so I only had 40 minutes of battery to use--which I saved for the end...maybe not the smartest move.

Yesterday, I ran 16 miles back here in New York. It was much better than the run in Philly. The weather yesterday was beautiful: cool and breezy, more like an early autumn day than the balmy mid-summer days we've been having.

I was going great through Central Park, then Morningside Park, and even through the hills of Riverside Drive--I was cruising. It didn't get hard until I hit the West Side Highway. I hate running along that path. It is the worst 4-mile stretch of Manhattan possible: it's long and straight, and there is absolutely no coverage from the sun. And by this point, the sun was high in sky, and the temps were probably in the 80s. I made it through all four miles running, but I was in bad shape by the end of it.

I only had four miles left, but in my mental map I might as well have been running to Canada. So I started walking for 1-minute and running for four. It was the one of the old tricks I used to use on myself in order to build up mileage back when I first started running. Back then, 5-miles was a long run, so I hadn't successfully used this technique in years. But it worked. It worked pretty well. I finished only about eight minutes over my target time.

But back to the DNF. So in the past two weeks I've had one bad long run, one kinda successfully long run, and the runs in-between those have been just OK. So my main thoughts now are:

1. Marathon training indeed is a different beast than half-marathon training (yes, I knew this going in, but now I really know it since I'm in the thick of it)
2. My training schedule may be too hard for a first time marathoner
3. What are the 1,000 ways DNF can appear next to my name in Baltimore?

The last thought is scaring the bejesus out of me and, right now, I feel powerless to do anything about it. This is new territory for me. I wasn't even this scared for my first Half-Marathon. And the worst part is that the fear is completely unfounded. Yesterday I did 16 miles in 2:27. If I did that on race day and walked/jogged the rest of the way, I would still finish it in about 5 hours. Which isn't too bad for a first timer.

Ugh. I don't like this part one bit.