I made my first goal

Never, never, never quit

I'm channeling Winston Churchill for my final hours before the starting gun at Fairfield. I'm about to head out for an easy 30-minute run around the 'hood. But before that, I want to get all my thoughts down before they swirl out of my head as they tend to in the hours leading up to a race.

Goal Times

• Goal 1 (attainable): Come in close--but under--my PR of 1:53:42. Completely doable because my Half-Mary PR pace is 8:41 and most of my training runs have been faster than that. (I do realize that for humility's sake and out of respect for the distance that my attainable goal should be "to enjoy the race," but damn it, I am a cocky 20-something that always has something to prove.)
• Goal 2 (challenge): Come in at 1:50. That would shave about four minutes off my time. It's within the realm of reason, but it won't be easy to maintain that 8:24 pace.
• Goal 3 (pie in the sky): Come in at 1:45 (essentially an 8:00 pace). This would be exceeding hard because it's hard enough to maintain this pace for a six mile run. Can't imagine how I'll do it tomorrow.

Weather
Oh New England--your weather patterns are horrible. This week was beautiful. Every morning I woke up to a chill in the air, puffs of clouds in the sky, and glorious sunshine. However, tomorrow's weather for Fairfield calls for light showers leading into scattered thunderstorms. While the rain sucks (I've never actually run in the rain), it does guarantee cool temps (high 60s) and plenty of cloud coverage. The rain also spoils the beach plans we had for the rest of the day. Boo.

Travel
The lovely seaside town of Fairfield is just one-hour North of New York City. I could actually take the commuter rail to the race, but that would mean getting on the 5:35am train out of NYC--I just can't bring myself to get to Grand Central at 5:30am. So we'll be renting a car tonight and driving up at 6am tomorrow.

I've never stayed this far away from the race starting line, so hopefully it turns out alright.

Race Day Strategy
I've been good about this race and studied the course quite a bit over the past few weeks. The hardest part of the race seems to be the hilly midsection. Although I've heard from people that have run this race in the past that there are some surprise hills at the end.

So my plan for the race will be to take the first two miles easy, which shouldn't be a problem because with 3,000 runners there will be a lot of people in my way those first couple of miles. Miles 2-4 I want to settle into a good pace, trying to get toward my goal pace. Miles 5-7 have the biggest climbs and downhills, so there'll be some speeding up and slowing down--which I anticipate will completely mess with my pacing. After mile 7 it looks to be pretty easy, with a few rolling hills--which I like because little hills help get the blood pumping without taxing me too much and can really boost my mood if I tackle them well. After the hill in mile 11 I'll be going through my gravvy songs and hopefully just feeding off the excitement, making a mad dash to finish line.

I'm really hoping to be smart about this race and not just attack it blindly like I normally attack a race. But I'm sure come tomorrow morning I will be suffering from level 5 runner's brain and all this good thinking would have gone to waste.

Music
There have been a few changes to the playlist for Fairfield, I've updated Tuesday's post with the new mix. I had to switch out some songs that just didn't feel right.

Final Thoughts

• It's been over a year since I've raced at this distance, it's going to be a good time to returning to my favorite distance
• When it starts to hurt and suck and the world starts crumbling around me I will just think: Does it really hurt that much? The answer is always no.
• It is quite possible that this race, as much as I've prepared for it, will go bad. I'm not going to lie: if all does go horribly wrong I will be upset. If my GI tract acts up, as it has lately, I'll have to stop to get that out of the way. If I break out into stitches, I will have to combat them and probably have to walk. If my IT Band flares up, I will have to stop and stretch and inject walking breaks. But, I know I will finish. It might not be the time I want or the beautiful race I had hoped and dreamed about, but I will get my shit together and get to that finish line. I will never, never, never quit.

The final countdown

As the Fairfield Half-Marathon approaches and I go through the pre-race rituals, I'd thought I'd share my playlist (also, this was a request from Laura). With that, I'd like to set the mood with arguably the best techno-rock song to come out of Scandinavia in the mid-80s:



Great, now that we're all totally stoked about bad music, let's get onto the playlist. Here is the process I've developed over the years:

1. I get excited! And why shouldn't I? It's a week before a race and the end of training is within sight.
2. I set aside an hour (although it sometimes becomes two) to go through all the music on my computer and pick out only the best of the best running songs. Those songs go onto the playlist. (I've also learned that I gravitate toward newer songs that I haven't worn out yet.)
3. Now that I have a short list of songs to play with I start the delicate process of ordering them and weeding out the songs that just don't work. To do this I assign a rating to each song on iTunes according to the following system:

• One star - The starter songs. These songs help set the pace early in the race because they are fast and really fun. These songs make me happy--which hopefully carries over on race day.
• Two star - The ease into the groove songs. These songs are a slower pace than the one star set, but equally as important in maintaining pace as the initial energy wears off. They also help transition to the next set of songs.
• Three star - The workhorse songs. At this point in the race I'm well into the miles and need to just concentrate on keeping one foot going behind the other. These songs are slow and remind me that it's ok to slow down because by this point I've established a comfortable pace and just need to maintain it.
• Four star - The "ok, let's start picking it up" songs. These songs are scheduled to start about 75% of the way into the race. When I hear these songs that means that the finish line is getting closer and that I should start pushing out of the comfort zone. No fireworks, but just a slight increase in pace.
• Five star - The gravvy songs. If there is anything left in me, these songs can get it out of me because they're just that inspirational/bad ass. When I hear these I know that I have to whip out the gravvy and start pouring it on.

4. Once the songs are in these five groups, then I order them according to what songs lead well into the following song and what is appropriate for that approximate point in the race.
5. Once the playlist is done I try to take it for a test run. (Didn't happen this time around, oh well.)

Yesterday I went through this process and here is the finished product, ready for racing--and maybe even a PR--in Fairfield:

• One Star songs
• Proud Mary; Tina Turner (this is always my first song and I only listen to it on race days, it just gets me in the right mood--no idea why)
• Rhythm Bandits; Junior Senior
• Let's Dance to Joy Division; The Wombats (I am currently obsessed with this song)
• Out Here All Night; Damone
• Reptilia; The Strokes (Good choice for this section since it contains the line "don't slow me down if I'm going too fast")
• Soulchaser; Caesars
• Two Star songs
• Coconuts; Junior Senior
• Check Yes Juliet; We the Kings
• This River Is Wild; The Killers
• Your English Is Good; Tokyo Police Club
• Take Me Out; Franz Ferdinand
• Can I Get Get Get; Junior Senior (maybe this should be renamed the Junior Senior Half-Marathon playlist--they are the only band on here thrice [yes, I said thrice])
• Three Star songs
• Only You; Caesars
• Freedom 90; George Michael
• For Reasons Unknown; The Killers
• Save Room; John Legend
• My Moon My Man; Feist UPDATE: replaced with Barracuda by Heart
• She Don't Use Jelly; Ben Folds Five (I always laugh at this song and by this point in the race I'll take anything that can make me happy)
• Wreckless Love; Alicia Keys (Alicia seems like a really slow choice for running music, but some of her songs have a very fast beat if you listen for it) UPDATE: replaced with Roxanne by The Police
• I Turn My Camera On; Spoon (I first heard this song on a Jaguar commercial and haven't been able to get it out of my head since, it has an easy beat to match my pace to)
• Four Star songs
• Black Cadillacs; Modest Mouse (Nothing says get your ass in gear like Modest Mouse screaming "Done done done with all the f*** f*** f***ing around")
• Sea Lion Woman; Feist
• Steven's Last Night In Town; Ben Folds Five UPDATE: replaced with Shockwave by Black Tide
• Times Like These; Foo Fighters
• Juicebox; The Strokes (This has become my "passing" song because there is a line in the chorus that screams "Why won't you come over here?" Well, if you won't come over here I'm just going to have to pass you, aren't I?)
• Five Star songs
• I Don't Feel Like Dancin'; Scissor Sister (Because I indeed don't feel like dancing by now) UPDATE: replaced with Stronger by Kanye West
• The Devil Went Down to Georgia; The Charlie Daniels Band (It's cheesy, but it works)
• The Pretender; Foo Fighters (awesome song, it immediately got Five Star designation the first time I heard it)
• Move Along; The All-American Rejects

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Updated: 6/21

Cross training...on a trapeze

On Sunday, wifey, a friend, and I went out for a bit of cross-training.

Here I am warming up:

Getting into starting position:

And then taking-off!!!



Yes indeed peeps, wifey took me to trapeze school as a birthday present and it was awesome!!!

As you can see from the pictures the facility is outdoors, but what you can't tell is that it on top of a three story building on a pier. So even though you climb 20 someodd feet to the platform, you're closer to 100-feet in the air with breezes from the ocean blasting from all sides. Needless to say, it reminds you that you're alive.

The first time I went up, I really had no idea what to expect. I stood on the platform and the instructor started rigging me up to the harness and that's when I realized there's only one way down. I grabbed the bar. I heard the call from the instructor. And then I hopped off.

In my head the only thing I could say was "ohshitohshitohshitohshit." I didn't even listen to the rest of the calls, I just got my feet up, got them down, and then let go of the bar.

The second time you go up, its worse because this time you know exactly what to expect.

But by the third time, you're a pro (see video above for proof).

The only problem is that even if you're careful you will probably leave with a scrape or a bump of some kind. I was careful and still managed to leave with: a cut on my left knee, chaffing behind both knees, sore calves, bruise marks on the palms of both hands, a mysterious bruise on my left tricep, and--perhaps most damaging of all--net burn across all ten toes of my beauty feet:

(Those purplely things are the burn marks. This was the good foot.)

It was great time--more fun than I thought it would be, and I had high expectations. If any of you come to NYC anytime soon I really recommend that you take a class. They're not horribly expensive ($47 for weekdays, $65 for weekends) and not challenging at all. The only sweat I worked up was from standing in the sun.
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In running news.... The Fairfield Half-Marathon is only six days away!!! I am so excited that I wake up every morning thinking about it.

Preparations have already begun in the sRod household for the race. My race clothes (and back-up clothes) were washed in the load of laundry and are neatly folded awaiting race day. I've already drawn up the packing list for the drive up there. Tonight I'll put the final touches on the play list for the race and maybe start printing out documents (registration confirmation, rental car confirmation, directions, etc., etc.). So happy to finally be running this race!

Lessons I've learned but always manage to forget

Just a few running lessons I've learned over the past few years that I always manage to forget. These have all come into play at some point in the past week's training. I'm writing them down in hopes of remembering them in this final week (!!!) before Fairfield.

1. When you have to go while you're running you can combat it, but it takes lots of effort and concentration. And you only end up buying time until you find a bathroom--it never truly goes away.
2. Big breath in, big breath out. Repeat. That is my running mantra. Maybe I inherited crappy sinuses from my mom, but my breathing is not spectacular. No asthma, just inefficient breathing. So I always have to remind myself to do big breaths, drawing them in/out over two steps.
3. Always, always start off easy and you will be able to finish hard. I've done a good job of tempering the first mile of my long runs while training for Fairfield, but I could stand to improve my pacing.
4. No matter how good you are at this running thing, you always have to dig deep. Always.
5. You don't need to be hungry to have a GU while running.

Witty title

First, thank you all for the birthday wishes! The big 2-5 went very well. Wifey surprised me in the morning with breakfast in bed and a book of 25 things I've never done. First thing on the list: breakfast in bed.

Then we proceeded to the Central Park Zoo, had a picnic while on a row boat in Central Park, and we had dinner at this great seafood restaurant called The Mermaid Inn. Sunday, after the hottest 10 miles ever, we went to the Madison Avenue BBQ Block Party (yum!) and then went on a boat cruise all the way around Manhattan.

I've never done anything of these things before, but if you're keeping count, that was only six, there are 19 more events planned for my birthday. Some of which I'm looking forward to (wifey signed me up for trapeze school--SWEETNESS!). Some of which I'm not looking forward to (wifey also signed me up for a pedicure because she says my abused feet will appreciate it--yeah, right).

Stay posted for the continued celebration!

Second, I was tagged by Nitmos to fill out a little running quiz/questionnaire/thingie. Here are the rules:

Each player answers the 5 questions on their own blog. At the end of your post you tag 5 other people and post their names. Go to their blogs and leave a comment on their blogs telling them they've been tagged and to look at your blog for details. When they've answered the questions on their own blog, they come back to yours to tell you.

And away we go:

1. How would you describe your running 10 years ago?

Oh, God. Running wasn't even an inkling in my head at that point. I was a freshman in high school and felt extremely uncomfortable in my body. That summer I reached my max weight of 230 pounds and I remember looking in the mirror when I got out of the shower and trying to find some sign of my body losing weight on its own. I was caught in one of those teenage cycles where you want to change yourself but you don't feel like you can.

Exercise wasn't even something I did back in '98. It was something I wanted to do, but I just felt like such a fool doing any kind of physical activity. I also had no coordination, athletic skills, or desire to participate in sports.

This is quickly turning into something I'll have to elaborate on in a different post, so let it suffice to say that running wasn't even a thing to me 10 years ago.

2. What is your best and worst run/race experience?

Best: The Long Branch Half-Marathon. I don't think I've ever run as well as I ran this race. I felt spectacular that morning and all the elements were in my favor (dense cloud coverage, no rain, perfect temps, no heavy wind, pancake-flat course). I blew away my PR expectations, which still amazes me to this day.

Worst: The Disney Half-Marathon. It's a tough enough race with the 2am wake-up call, all the waiting, the crowds, the humidity, and the hills that you don't expect. But then I was the hot shot coming off his first Half-Marathon who only trained the four-weeks prior to the race. Yeah, genius defined.

3. Why do you run?

I run (say it with me now) because it makes me feel superhuman. And that is superhuman not in the Superman sense, but more in the "only .0000000001% of people have run long-distance" sense.

Although I've discovered that in talking with other people that running has become my hobby. It's what I do on the weekend instead of tinkering with a car or building bird houses. It's what I do for fun.

4. What is the best or worst piece of advice you've been given about running? (I'm reinterpreting this as the best and worst ideas I've had on running.)

Best: focus on breathing, everything else will follow.

Worst: just run through the pain.

5. Tell us something surprising about yourself that not many people would know.

The acronym for my blog (SSR) is the same three-letter combination as my monogram (SSR). And that was not intentional.

For my tags, I'm going to follow Nitmos's lead and mercifully tag only one person. The Laminator: you're next.

Baby cows

I picked-up the June issue of Men's Journal from my work mailbox earlier this week. (Free magazines: one of the few reasons I stay in advertising.) I start flipping through the magazine on my way home today and start reading an article titled "Six-pack abs, made to order." The article is about this new high-definition liposculpture surgery--it's basically super precise lipo that can sculpt fat to look like muscle.

I roll my eyes.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind being all cut up like some Abercrombie & Fitch model, but I wouldn't do surgery. Come on, is anyone in such dire need of a six-pack that they would undergo an $8,000+ surgery? I don't think such a person exists. Not in my world.

But wait, it gets better.

I continue reading and get to a diagram where they list the top plastic surgery procedures men choose to undergo. Nose and eye jobs account for nearly 50% of all male plastic surgery--ok, you might snore or you might have developed those skin flaps that impair your vision. Next on the list are hair transplant (ok, understood), chin implant (odd, but understandable), male breast reduction/implants (sure, I could use those too), penis enlargement (hee hee, they said penis--and now I've said it too!), and calf implants.

Calf implants.

WTF? Calf implants? People want to make their calves bigger? This is a thing? This is something people lose sleep over (I assume you're losing sleep if you're willing to undergo surgery)? I mean, how often do you even see a guy's calves? They're usually covered by pants.

The article writes: "Calves are notoriously hard to develop." That's it--that is the justification provided for getting calf surgery, which starts at $5,500. Can't $5,500 get you a personal trainer that will not only make your calves bigger, but your entire body healthier?

I then take a look at my calves. I'll be honest: my calves are pretty sweet. I have received very few genetic blessings when it comes to my body, but well-defined calves I did get. There was even someone who told me in high school (when I was overweight and not exercising) that my calves should be used in an anatomy class. (I'm pretty that was intended to be a compliment.)

Since the proof is always in the pudding, here is the pudding:



Ok, this picture makes them look scary. I swear, I do look like a normal human when I walk around...just don't ask me to flex my calves. (Also, you can't imagine how silly I felt running back and forth across the living room to take this picture. Where is wifey when I need her?)

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Nitmos, I'm honored to be the sole victim...um...no, wait, victim is the right word--the sole victim of your tagging. That will be this weekend's post.

Gym carnies: Yeti

Gym Carnies an irregular series about the curious characters and intriguing individuals that people my local gym.
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There are certain telltale signs of a runner: a sweaty old race t-shirt, dirty-yet-loved sneakers, an air of humility earned from running races, an all too wide grin that comes from the high levels of endorphins. We all exhibit these outward signs as a result of running. However, what if you exhibit all the signs of a runner, but never in fact run? Such is the problem with the Yeti.

Similar to his namesake, there are many signs that Yeti is a runner, yet to this day no one has produced hard evidence that Yeti does run.

The first time I saw Yeti I took him for your average male gym type. He looks to be in his 40s and is probably the most fit middle-aged man I've ever seen: muscular, very lean, probably about 6'5", and could easily pass for a model. He executes every lift, pull, and push with exacting precision--the type of flawlessness you gain by performing the same movement over and over. He walks around the gym very upright and always has a way of appearing to look down on things.

I really took Yeti as just your regular iron-pumping gym type, except for one thing. Without fail he always comes to the gym in a coordinated spandexy running outfit and spiffy running shoes.

I'm all for spandex--as a runner I own several pieces of spandex clothing--but I don't wear them to the gym. Very few guys come to the gym outfitted to run a race, and even fewer dress like that every time they go to the gym. Also, very few people at the gym wear Brooks or Saucony--these brands are typically reserved for runners. This leads me to believe that Yeti is a runner, because no one else but a runner would invest so much in spandex or fancy shoes.

Additionally, I've overheard Yeti mention something about "races" and "an injury" to another Gym Carny. I've also noticed that Yeti does some pretty intense weight training on his legs. Just more fuel for the legend that Yeti is a runner.

But this all brings us back to the initial problem that in order to be a runner you must run. You can't have symptoms without first having a disease (right, Laminator?). And I haven't seen Yeti run.

I've seen him on the elliptical and the bike at the gym, but never the treadmill. I have run around this neighborhood at least once a week for the past year and have never spotted him. His shoes are always clean. And because of Yeti's endless supply of spandex, he doesn't wear race t-shirts.

Now, in the name of fairness, I have to say that I have had some reported Yeti sightings of my own, but nothing has conclusively proven to me that he is a runner.

Reported Yeti sighting #1: during the Healthy Kidney 10K, as I was cresting over Harlem Hill (Mile 2) I saw someone bent over stretching a leg muscle. As I approached the figure in the bright morning light I could tell the person's clothes would surely be in Yeti's closet--and the person's physique seemed very similar to Yeti's. However, in a second I was past him and didn't get to see his face. There were 8,000 runners out there that day, it really could have been anyone.

Reported Yeti sighting #2: as I was sitting on the subway on Sunday morning waiting to head out for my long run I saw what I could have sworn was Yeti. He passed the car I was in, but I think he was wearing running clothes and headphones. But of course, I wasn't sure it was him, and even if it was, I don't have anyway to prove that he was going running, even though typically the only reason anyone would be on the subway at 8:30am on a Sunday in running clothes is because they are going to go running.

Reported Yeti sighting #3: this morning I was doing 5 x 1000m at the track instead of the gym. I rarely go out to the track on Tuesdays, but I want to acclimate to the warmer weather as quickly as possible, given that Fairfield is just 2.5 weeks away. As I rounded the turn during a recovery lap, I saw a tall, muscular, very lean runner running away from the track. From a distance, it looked like it could have been Yeti, but I was too far to tell. And this runner had on some non-spandex shorts, obviously it couldn't be him.

One day I hope to have proof that Yeti exists--I mean runs. Although I have no real reason to want to see him run, because I guess techinically at that point he will stop being a Gym Carny and start being a normal person. And where's the fun in that?

Checking in

I'm in the midst of what is quickly becoming a super month. My birthday is this weekend--the festivities for which have been kept in the strictest of secrecy. Then there is my company's annual booze cruise. Then there is Fairfield. And then there is the cooking class coupled with Eddie Izzard on the same weekend.

So I have to keep it brief today: yesterday's run was hard. Twelve miles, 79 degrees, no cloud cover, three bridges, and one headache that started before I left the house. Then throw in periodic stitches (they're back!) and some walking breaks and you get a run clocked in at a 9:10 pace. I think the last time I went that slow was MY FIRST MARATHON EVER.

But it's all down hill from here. Whaaaaaaa hooooooooo! It's time to taper!

Stay posted for a new Gym Carny profile.

Hot mess

I often cite runner's brain as a source for silly mistakes made while running. Such as when you think it's a great idea to charge up an uphill two-miles into your 10-mile run and then wonder why you don't have energy in mile five. Or like when I ran MY FIRST MARATHON EVER and was clocking an 8:30 pace during the first quarter of the race, even though I was training to run at a nine-minute pace. Such moments of non-brilliance are scraped up to runner's brain.

Yesterday though I had so many instances of runner's brain that it reached a new level--runner's fever perhaps? I just don't even know. Let's discuss.

First, I miscalculated my goal time. I met up with the Laminator at the Super Runner's Shop (getting closer to free shoes!) for the Saturday group run--although we had plans to break off from the group because the Laminator had an 18-mile run and I had a 14-mile run scheduled for the day. During the first mile or so I calculate my goal time for the run to be 2:04 for an eight-minute pace. Now if you whip out your calculator, you'll easily find out that eight minutes times 14 miles equals 1:52. Where I got 2:04 from, I have no idea--I can't even replicate the math.

Next, as I mentioned before, the Laminator and I planned on breaking off from the group at one point to go exploring different parts of Manhattan, since no one wants to run high mileage in Central Park (those hills will destroy you). I mapped out a great 14-mile route from the group's starting point heading south and committed it to memory. Just in case, I quickly mapped back up route for if we headed north since the group likes to alternate between directions. Of course, we head out northward, so I have to use the back up route that I didn't remember so well.

We exit the Park and say goodbye to our group leader, letting him know we won't be returning to the store. I start leading the way through Morningside Park and Teacher's College. We get to Riverside Drive and it's basically a straight shot south from there. I love this stretch of Manhattan and it's pretty cool sharing it with another runner, pointing out all the landmarks and the different ways you can go through the park. We plug along through Riverside Park, then Death Valley, then Battery Park, and then the final stretch along the seaport leading up to my finish line at the Brooklyn Bridge.

I wish the Laminator good luck on his last four miles and I head toward the subway. I look at my watch. 1:51:30. Huh? If I was supposed to finish in 2:04 at an eight-minute pace then I must have been hauling some serious ass. That is suspicious, but I'm so happy to be done with the run that I don't even think twice about it.

I get home and start mapping the route I just ran. Turns out that I messed up the route. We were supposed to exit Central Park at an entirely different point to make sure we hit 14 miles by the Brooklyn Bridge. But we exited the park way too early, which cut an entire mile off the run. So my fantastic run, got a lot less fantastic. Then I entered my time and saw my pace instead of being sub-eight minutes, was actually 8:34--way off from the 8:15 pace I had for 10 miles two weeks ago. Around this time I also realize my time miscalculation from early in the run. Damn, damn, and damn.

But wait, there's more. This morning I go to check off yesterday's run from my training calendar. I open up the Excel sheet and find the 14-mile long run...under May 30. Yesterday was May 24. WHAT. THE. HELL. The running gods were obviously out helping someone else yesterday.

P.S. - The Laminator suggested I buy a Garmin yesterday citing that it has helped him tremendously with his running. I shrugged it off saying that Mapmyrun.com is all I need. This morning I have seriously reconsidered his suggestion and will be adding a Garmin to my birthday list (less than two weeks away!).

P.P.S. - And in what is clearly an early sign of a terminal bout with runner's brain, I realized TODAY that I misspelled gravy as gravvy every single time in my post from WEDNESDAY--even though I used spell check on the sucker. The extra "v" is for "vroom" you generate in your final kick, so there.

The pictures in my head

Do you ever get pictures in your head when you run? I realized during Tuesday's speedwork that every time I get a kick at the end of a run and really throw it into overdrive for those last few seconds I get an image in my head of pouring gravvy. Ok, ok, ok, that kinda sounds odd, maybe even a little weird, but I guess I liken that final kick to Thanksgiving.

Imagine that it's dinner on Thanksgiving. You've just loaded up your plate with fresh made mashed potatoes, oven roasted turkey, your aunt's made from scratch cranberry sauce, fluffy corn bread, delicious green bean cassarole. Really, the plate is enough food to feed a small country, but it's not quite there yet. The last thing you put on your plate, the thing that tips the scale from just another meal to an obscene feast, is grandma's homemade gravvy. As you pour it over your food you even nod your head a little and say "yyyyeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh."

Now when I'm in the final stretch of a race and I'm dying with every step and all that stands in front of me is that tiny little bit of road leading to the finish line I don't want to just run that last stretch, I want to anilhilate it. I want to make it a run to remember. I want to take the great run I've had and tip it from great to phenonmenal. And suddenly something opens up deep inside, and my legs move faster, and I'm spanking that pavement, and I run as if the flames of hell are licking my heels. In short, that moment is what changes the run from just another training run into a race.

Since the little moment of pouring gravvy on your Thanksgiving dinner and pouring on the extra heat in the race have very similar emotions tied to them I guess one just triggers the other. At least that's how it works in my head.

The stitch is back

I'll keep it brief today, given the this weekend's century post. (Which, might I add, took me three sittings to write. It is not something I recommend to any of you.)

I went out for some speed work this morning. Just like last time, I went to the track and started dropping my times like no one's business. My 8:20 pace became an 8:00 pace, my 7:50 pace became a 7:30 pace, and my 7:40 pace became a 6:40 pace.

But there was a problem today. The menace is back: the stitch. You may remember the stitch from such great posts as "MY FIRST MARATHON EVER" or "The Best 13 Miles Ever...well, almost." Well, it's coming back for a three-peat!

Typically, when I get stitches, it's later in the training cycle, usually the week or two before the race. But it seems the stitch is busting out early this time. It really hurt during the middle of the speed work, but went away toward the end. Hopefully, that's a sign that the stitch is just a fluke and is never, ever coming back again...ever.

Lessons learned while blogging

1. If you write about your running addiction long enough and you'll get to 100 posts
2. You'll then get a crazy idea to write a list of 100 things to celebrate it
3. I've learned that maintaining a blog is more involved than I originally thought
4. I've also learned that it's more of a social experience than I originally thought
5. I never thought there was a large running blog community
6. I never thought that through blogging I'd become involved in other people's lives
7. I never thought I would make friends just by blogging
8. I never thought I would run anything shorter than a Half-Marathon
9. The Laminator can convince even me to run a 10K two days before the race
10. It turns out I can actually run a 7:57 pace for a 10K on the hilliest course NYC can offer
11. I have also learned 10Ks are an entirely different kind of race than Half-Marathons or Marathon
12. The Laminator has a not-so-secret agenda to make me faster
13. The Laminator's plan seems to be working
14. I would have never met The Laminator if it wasn't for this blog...
15. ...and a free pair of shoes
16. I also wouldn't have met an entire world of runners
17. Including Jess, who can drink and write me under the table
18. And Jon, who can write an intriguing story, but doesn't seem to know how to end it
19. And Nitmos, who has been reading Don Quixote since Cervantes published it back in 1605
20. And Vanilla, who is as close to a running blog celebrity as we have
21. And Marcy, who is as close to a running blog groupie as we have
22. And J, who's house I am increasingly jealous of
23. And Moon, who has a genuinely amazing story
24. And Nancy, who is the world's first virtual race director
25. And Amanda, who had the most memorable wedding--ever
26. And Amy and Tom, who have done so much to build a community of runners
27. And Steve, who could run circles around me, even with a bum Achilles tendon
28. And Ted, who's borrowed my URL format
29. And Dean, who was a kid in a candy shop last month
30. And the dozens of others who have stopped by for a bit
31. Ta da!
32. Wait, I'm only at 32? Jesus Christ, 100 items, what was I thinking?
33. This is turning out to be one marathon of a post
34. Get it, marathon, because I run marathons? Get it??
35. I've learned that I'm much funnier in my head than I am on paper
36. Or in type
37. I derive entirely too much humor from this clip
38. But I can't help watching it again
39. "Look at the good I do." Priceless.
40. I've learn that I can run with glass in my foot for up to three months
41. Actually, I just realized that I never wrote about that: turns out that I stepped on a chard of glass back in November and that's what was causing my foot pain and swelling. Of course I didn't know about the chard of glass until three months after the fact when I pulled it out with a pair of tweezers. I can't believe I was running with a piece of glass lodged in my foot!
42. I've learned that I can run a marathon, even if I didn't run it the way I wanted to
43. I've accepted that it was MY FIRST MARATHON EVER and that I ran it like a Half-Marathon, which was a big mistake
44. I've learned that bees can sting you even when you're running a marathon
45. I've learned that scratching a bee sting will leave a scar
46. And that now that scar is officially referred to as my "marathon scar"
47. And who doesn't want a marathon scar? It just sounds sexy.
48. I've also learned that group runs are greatly beneficial (yeah, like I'm the first one to think that) not only in the social aspect, but also in improving speed
49. And getting free shoes
50. By the way, I'm half-way to getting a free pair of shoes
51. Just like you're half-way through this post
52. Group runs have also taught me that I can run without music
53. Although I still bring Liam along for races and non-group runs
54. And I bought some new music before yesterday's 10K so I was rocking out during the race
55. New Yorkers are stoic runners and are easily freaked out when someone passes them with arms pumping to some kick-ass song and digging deep for that final kick (apologies to the woman I spooked yesterday before the finish line)
56. I've also learned that I'm not your typical NYC runner in that I run in a diverse set of places and I'm not afraid to take the subway to start a run outside of my neighborhood
57. Taking this approach has really enabled me to explore the city, finding amazing places along the way that most runners miss
58. I have also learned that I'm the only person that uses the word "magical" to describe a run. It's not magical in the wizard way, it's magical in the "this feels a little surreal" kind of way.
59. I also appear to be the only person that says running makes them feel superhuman. Once again, it's not superhuman in the way that Superman is superhuman--it's superhuman in that .00001% of humans run for long distances.
60. You know what else makes me feel superhuman? This post. It's pretty long already and I've still got 40 more lines to write. Crikey.
61. I've learned that I can talk about people like Ryan Hall and Paula Radcliffe and people will understand me here
62. I've learned that the same does not hold true during conversations with non-runners
63. I've learned that I'm not a tech-savvy as I ought to be: I just set up Google Reader two months ago--geez I'm slow
64. You know what else is slow? Collecting all 50 states.
65. I've learned that I'm not crazy for wanting to run a Half-Marathon or Marathon in each state
66. And I have learned that there are crazies that have beat me to this goal eight times already
67. I've learned to plan ahead, way ahead (yes, I have my races planned out for the next 12 months) in order to maximize travel
68. But I've also learned that plans are just plans and do change, as with Fairfield and this weekend's 10K
69. I've also learned to stretch
70. Sweet God Almighty have I learned to stretch
71. Just as an update: I have been free of IT Band pain ever since PT, turns out that all I had was a tight muscle that needed some loving
72. I now make it a point to stretch out everything before and after a run
73. Not that I don't get the occasional funny feeling in my knee or shin or calf--but once I do get that funny feeling, I know to stretch out that area really well and not ignore it in hopes of it magically healing on it's own
74. I've also learned to not mix Johnny Walker and running
75. I've learned that most people already know this lesson and that I was a late bloomer in this respect
76. I've learned that my bowels are wimps on training runs
77. I've learned that my bowels are iron-clad on runs
78. I've learned that my experience at Disney was a classic example of how not to prepare for a Half-Marathon
79. I've learned with every subsequent race how to properly train and prepare
80. And I've PR'd at every race since Disney (Marathon and 10K are by default)
81. God is this almost over? Who's idea was this anyway?
82. I believe it was your idea
83. Stupid me for getting ideas
84. Although you're still reading at this point, so why the heck are you still reading?
85. Well, I assumed you were building toward some poetic conclusion that elegantly weaves life and running into a harmonious universal truth about man, you know, providing a unique insight into the human condition, how through running--in the metaphoric sense of an unwavering focus on a distant goal--you can triumph over any obstacle. THAT is what I'm expecting.
86. Well. Then. That's awfully grand of you.
87. Thanks, I like to think about the big picture
88. Well, you're just going to get more rambling for the remaining points
89. WHAT? No big pay out for reading all of these kernals of wisdom?
90. Well, you already did the whole universal truth bit, what's left for me to say? Plus that's just not my style
91. Well, then what is your style?
92. I guess that's another thing I've learned while blogging: I don't have seem to have a writing style
93. I've learned that I'm a fan of writing lists
94. But I've also grown to appreciate the long-format race recap
95. I've also learned that I really like picking off people
96. I've learned that people enjoy picking off me
97. Like that guy who got cut me off at the six mile mark at yesterday's 10K
98. And that old guy that passed me on a long run a few months back
99. I've learn that it's not cool to be chicked
100. Unless it's wifey, in which cases she can always chick me

Gym carnies: FOM

This is the first installment of (what I hope will become) an irregular series about the curious characters and intriguing individuals that people my local gym.

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I am sure you know what I mean by gym carnies: those people who lurk around your gym as if they were stuck there and can't escape, but at the same time don't seem to really want to be anywhere else. These are the people who are pumping iron when you get there, and plugging away at the stairmaster when you leave. You assume they must have lives outside of the gym, but on the other hand, you've never seen them outside of the gym. They are usually on a first name basis with each other and the gym staff, and carry themselves with an air of "gymier-than-thou."

There is a particular gym carnie that seems to have taken a liking to me. Perhaps it's because he sees me run a lot and from the 1989 Long Island Marathon t-shirt he wears every other day I assume he used to be a runner--or ate a runner that was passing over his bridge and kept the t-shirt. I don't know this gym carnie's name, but let's call him FOM, or Farting Old Man for long.

FOM is a creature of habit. He is on the elliptical in the middle of the first row of machines every Tuesday and Thursday before 6am. After about 45 minutes of ellipting (ellipticizing? ellipticating? faux-running?) FOM then moves on to the treadmill, and much like with the elliptical, he has his favorite. The first treadmill in the second row of treadmills is his favorite. You know how babies love pacifiers? Such is the love FOM has for this particular treadmill. Every Tuesday and Thursday he places his towel on the right handle bar of the machine. He then plugs in his white headphones and tunes into the TV (always FOX News Channel). FOM then cranks the incline up to 15--so high that he must death-grip the TV in order to keep him from falling off--and proceeds to walk for what I assume is the rest of the day.

FOM is very intense while on the treadmill and nothing will interrupt his work out. If a song pops into his head while on the treadmill, he'll hum it. If his treadmill is making a funny sound, he won't change machines. And above all else, if--nay, when--when he has gas, he cannot leave the treadmill: gas must be passed on the treadmill. The more people are around FOM, the more this holds true. We're not talking loud, butt-trumpet farts. FOM's forte is the classic SBD (silent but deadly)--the type that sneak up on you and make you look around for the dead animal that just crawled into the room. These farts aren't just rank, they are offensive.

The other morning I arrived at the gym to find that most of the treadmills where taken except for the one next to FOM's favorite. Even though I knew FOM was a creature of habit I figured he would at least respect the universally accepted one-machine rule of separation. Anyways, FOM was still on the elliptical, so there would be plenty of time for the other treadmills to clear out.

Thirty minutes later FOM gets off the elliptical, which is fine because most of the three rows of treadmills have cleared out so he has his choice of machines, all of which he can watch FOX News on and incline to vertical.

But wait, he's passing the first row of treadmills. No.

He's turning down my empty aisle of treadmills, passing EIGHT perfectly usable machines. No way.

He steps onto the machine next to me. What the hell???

Yup, there were about 20 other treadmills that he could have used, all of them providing more than one-machine of separation, but FOM has to go with his regular machine right next to me. Aye Dios, porque? I hunker down, hoping for the best but anticipating the worst. And true to habit, about 15 minutes later he starts letting them rip. Sweet Jesus, what does this man eat? I start looking around wildly with a look of disgust, to show to anyone within smelling distance that I am not the perpetrator but I am looking for him/her. (Quick note: why do we always try to find who farted? What purpose does that serve?) I power through the rest of the run half-suffering from the noxious fumes, half-laughing because I knew it was coming.

I get off the treadmill and haul my ass over to the stretching area, which mercifully happens to be located on the opposite side of the gym. I go through all my stretches and go to walk out. Out of the corner of my eye I see FOM still plugging away at the treadmill, still at a 90 degree angle, but now he's talking to another gym carnie, COM (Cardio Old Man)...but he is another story, for another time.

Super Caveman Challenge race report

The hardest working cavewoman in the running business put on yet another race this weekend: the 10K on the 10th. Per usual, I had to go for the Super Caveman Challenge and do 10 miles instead of 10 Ks--not that this masochism was an official division of the race, but I had a 10-mile run schedule for today anyway.

As is becoming my typical Saturday routine, I went to the Super Runner's Shop (halfway to a free pair of shoes!) and met up with the gang there. Right before we left, The Laminator, fresh off his PR at the Long Branch Half-Marathon, showed up and we got to talking about his fantastic race (and the weird weather over the weekend).

We jog on over to the Runner's Gate at Central Park, where the group separates into the different distances. The Laminator, a Brazilian guy, and myself form the 10-mile group, lead by pacesetter Julio. We map out our route as one big loop of six-miles and one inner loop of four-miles. When Julio asks what our pace is I ambitiously say "about 8:30" knowing full-well that group runs tend to move faster than the projected pace. The Laminator agrees to this pace, even though I know he can crank out sub-7-minute miles like no one's business, and the Brazilian guy, well, I don't think he responded. So Julio, who is incredibly fit and (I find out later) about 40 years my senior, says "well, I'm not as fast as you guys, but let's do the first six-miles at about a nine minute pace and then the last four we'll speed it up." Sounds like a plan to me because my stomach wasn't feeling 100%.

So we set out north on east side of the park. The Laminator and I quickly realize that Julio either sandbagged us or needs a new watch, because these were not nine-minute miles. These are more like 8:30 miles, and Julio seems to be pounding out eight-minute miles on the uphill.

Most of the race was hard for me because we were pushing such an aggressive speed. I felt bad for The Laminator, because here he is, holding back for me at his recovery pace, and I can't even talk because I'm afraid that starting up a conversation will stop me dead in my tracks.

We get to the six-mile mark and Julio is there (he had pulled out way ahead of us) and shouts out our time at 50:20. At this point I can't do the math in my head--runner's brain has impaired me from doing anything more than counting the miles to go. If I take this as my time for the race that puts me at a pace of 8:23, which is good (it would actually be a PR since I've never done a 10K), but I'm not doing 10K, I'm doing 10M. So onward we go.

About 10 seconds later, a trio of gaunt runners whiz by and the only piece of their conversation that I catch is "I just clocked that mile at 6:09."

...

Here I am dying with every step and then come these three guys at breakneck speed talking as if this were easy. So I did what any self-respecting runner who has been put in their place would do: I let out a few four-letter words and threaten to throw my water bottle at them (that'll slow them down for sure). Fortunately they have run out of earshot.

The rest of the race goes on much of the same: left foot, right foot, repeat. Finally at mile seven I get a bit of a runner's high and it keeps me going for the rest of the race--which I desperately needed because there are some nasty-ass hills in Central Park.

I gave a little sprint at the finish--nothing spectacular, but I did cross the finish line a little faster. I look at my watch, which reads 1:23:47. I shook hands with The Laminator and wished him luck on the six-miles he had to go to get in his 16.

When I'm at home I map out the route. Turns out it was a run of 10.15-miles, meaning my pace was 8:15 min/mile. Wait a second. 8:15 pace for 10-miles? That's crazy! I've never gone that fast for so far. And I got some negative splits action going on there. Impressive considering the Central Park hills. Looks like The Laminator was right: he is sending me speed vibes and that an eight-minute pace at Fairfield is becoming more and more of a reality.

I hate spring

I love running in this weather: not too hot, not too cold, the sun is up early, and there are lots of fair weather runners that I get to pick off because they haven't trained through the winter. But most importantly, running in the spring lets me get rid of all the junk that builds up in my system thanks to allergies.

I never had allergies before moving to the Northeast. The first 19 years of my life were spent in allergen-free splendor in South Florida. Then I spent my first year in college in Boston and I soon learned that October and May were not my friends.

And I don't get one or two symptoms--no, no, I get the whole package. Itchy eyes, itchy throat, stuffy nose, sneezing, and a more phlegm than most would think a human could produce. I end up spending the day in haze, tired because I couldn't sleep...and now extra tired because I went running after the no sleep. I don't complain about much, but allergies drive me up a wall because it feel like I'm giving myself a sucker punch.

The good thing is that running--in addition to its familiar laundry list of benefits--helps clear out my system. So even though this morning I went running outside, my eyes did not itch, there was no sneezing, and most thankfully all the build-up in my throat came out. Ahhhhh, relief.

All the decongesting really helped my running today too. I did speed work and really kicked some booty. I was supposed to do 2 miles at an 8:20 pace (turned into 8:00), 2 x 1 mile at a 7:50 pace (turned into 7:40), and 2 x 800m at a 7:40 pace (turned into 6:50). I swear, I have no idea where this speed is coming from.

Quick note

This week and weekend have been crazy because wifey is taking a professional development class and her group's final presentation is tomorrow and I have been recruited to help work on the project. So yesterday after my run I met up with wifey at her office and helped her wrap up her presentation. Today they're having rehearsals and I get to be a guest judge--woo hoo!

Great news is that after tomorrow I will have my wife back, which is fantastic because she cooks waaaaay better than I do.

Just three quick notes from yesterday's run:

• Guy who passed me on the Queensboro Bridge: sorry, you looked about 20 years my senior, my pride wouldn't let you take the lead for too long
• The two five-year old boys who tried to race me eight miles into my 10-mile run: you've got some nice speed on you...even if you only lasted for about 50 feet
• The chick who tried to chick me nine miles into my 10-mile run: hell no were you going to pass me half a mile from the end of my run--although you came close...thank God that I'm good on the downhills

Crazies

Thanks everyone for the support on the 50-state goal.

After reading around a little more it seems like there are indeed some crazies out there that have not only completed the 50 states in less than 20-years, but they've done all 50 states multiple times. Like Steve Boone, who's run all 50 states eight times.

Yes, eight.

That is 400 marathons.

That is 1,600 hours of racing (if you do a 4 hour marathon).

That is 10,480 miles of running.

Whoa. I mean I know we all have to be a little crazy to run for as much as we do, but people like this scare me. Now, of course, I have also said that I would be crazy to run a marathon. So I may be setting myself up here. But really, I think things like a job and a family and callouses will keep me from running 400 marathons in my life.

I am becoming America!

While wrapping up today's group run with the Super Runner's Shop (six more runs until a free pair of shoes!) one of the other runners asked me why I'm not doing the Long Branch Half-Marathon again this year. That prompted me to write this post.

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Yes, you read that right. I am becoming America:

Ok, ok, not that America, but this one:

Ok, ok, becoming might be an overstatement, but let me explain.

Way back in 2005, after I ran the Boston Half-Marathon, I swore I would never run again. However, my aunt, a fellow runner at the time, decided to sign me up for Disney without me knowing, figuring that if I did a Half-Marathon once that I could easily do it again. She paid for registration and I was going to be in Florida anyway for Christmas, so I couldn't get out of it.

While Disney is in the records as my slowest Half-Marathon, and despite my complaints about the 2am wake-up call (ugh!), it probably did the most to cement my love for running. It was such a fun race and I was able to pick up the training so easily that I knew I was hooked by the end of that race. (Also the gigantic shiny Donald medal helped a lot too.)

I'm not sure what inspired me, but sometime in the months following Disney I decided I was going to run a Half-Marathon in each state. I really wish I had a cool inspirational story, something grand like: while my long-lost Godfather lay on his deathbed I promised him that in his memory I would run every state in the country fundraising to find a cure for his disease--but alas, I have no story to tell. The same way you remember to buy sugar at the grocery store is the same way this goal popped into my head.

I've had this goal for about three years now and as you can see from my completed races, I've made a dent in this union of states, amassing a total of six states (plus another three to come this year). Sure, this is a far flung goal that will probably take decades to complete, and really, if I fall shy by about 20 states I still would have achieved an impressive collection of races--so why do I stick with it? My classic argument is that many runners have the goal of qualifying and making it into Boston--which is a very noble goal. But in most cases, that goal (once you dedicate yourself to making it happen) will probably take a few years. And then what? Which is exactly why I have this multi-decade goal that will probably keep me focused on running well into my 40s.

Now you may have realized that I've already violated the whole Half-Marathon in every state bit with the Baltimore Marathon last year and the fact that I plan on running more marathons in the future. I'm doing this for several reasons: (1) I hated calling myself a Half-Marathoner, (2) I like to push myself out of my comfort distance, and (3) the same reason they climb Mt. Everest: because it's there. So to cumbersomely restate my goal: I want to run a Marathon or Half-Marathon in every state plus DC. (Although technically a Marathon is really two Half-Marathons, so I am correct in saying I want to run a Half-Marathon in every state. But that's just a technicality.)

Now, unfortunately, I know right off the bat that there at least two states that I will be doing twice. The first is Massachusetts. I already ran the Boston Half-Marathon, but I know someday I'll be back to run it's storied, significantly longer, older brother. The second is New York. I ran the Queens Half-Marathon back in 2006, but the bastards at NYRR didn't give out medals! Who holds a race longer than 10K and doesn't give out medals??? Come on. So just because of that silliness I want to run NYC's big race and get the medal I rightfully deserve. (Yeah bitches.)

This give me a grand total of 53 races to run before I'm done: 50 states + 1 District of the Colombian persuaion + 1 Mass double-header + 1 NY redux. Thus far, I've averaged two races a year, which means 26.5 years of racing, which means I'll be within earshot of 50 when I finish. (Hey Joan Benoit did it.) However, I'm trying to do three or four races a year, which will bring that age closer to 40. And like any compulsive planner, I've been building a list of races to run over the next 20-someodd years:

• Fairfield Half-Marathon (CT)
• Maple Leaf Half-Marathon (VT)
• Breakers Marathon (RI)
• 3M Austin Half-Marathon (TX)
• Little Rock Marathon (AR)--largest medal in racing and you know I need me one of those if I'm going to Little Rock
• Big Lake Half-Marathon (NH)
• Marine Corps Marathon (DC)
• Tybee Island Marathon (GA)--only because I can eat at Paula Deen's restaurant afterward
• Indianapolis Half-Marathon (IN)--because you actually get to run on the Speedway, how cool is that?
• San Francisco Marathon (CA)--only because you get to go over the Golden Gate Bridge, twice.
• Las Vegas Marathon (NV)--I mean what other race can you run by New York, Paris, Venice, and a Flamingo?
• Flying Pig Marathon (OH)--the name sold me
• Mayor's Marathon (AK)--although the Norwegian midnight sun race actually happens at night--I mean during the day...but when it's supposed to be night--how crazy is that?

P.S.-I know about the 50 State Marathon Club. But I won't join for two reasons: (1) the Half-Marathon is my favorite distance and (2) I only have one Marathon down and I'm not about to start all-over because of some club says my Half-Marys don't count. Boo on them.

You walk (or run) wrong

Just read an interesting article in New York Magazine about feet. According to the article, shoes--even running shoes--are detrimental to our foot's structure and generally the whole concept of shoes (padding, cushioning, comfort) is only needed because we wear shoes. Not exactly an article you would see in Runner's World.

Also, the photographs they used are really cool and make you do a double take.