More thoughts on MY FIRST MARA----you get the idea

Really quick turn around on race pictures from MY FIRST MARATHON EVER. I actually got the pictures on Tuesday of last week, but given my struggle to even get the race recap up, I wasn't going to bother with pictures until that was written and posted. So here they are, in all their well-coordinated-running-outfit glory:

Morning of the race, sporting the cool kids' sticker (yeah, it flew off about Mile 16)

Like a friggin' gazelle!! Little did I know there was a cheetah on my tail--a cheetah called "stitch"

In the words of my wife: "no wonder you got stitches, your arms were always in the air." Apparently do I not only get cocky during races, but I also get vertical arm disease.

Caught by the cheetah.

I swear I was sprinting during this part--look, I even have the gazelle smile.

The money shot.

Now from behind--in the orange on the left.

So those are the pictures. Looking back at them I feel proud about what I've accomplished, even if it wasn't how I wanted to accomplish it--almost like it was a starter marathon.

But fortunately, this race has only made me want to run more: I can't wait to finally run Central Park this weekend. I haven't looked forward to a run this much in a long time. There is no set distance or pace for me to worry about. That's probably the most taxing part of marathon training: the fact that no matter how hard or long the run is this week, next week's will be even worse. But not now--and not for a long time. It'll just be good times out there on Sunday. I'm really excited about it.

That kinda brings me to my next point. Or rather, everyone else's next point: what race am I going to run next? What has slipped past everyone is that I picked my next race a long time ago and it's been posted over there on the left for about five months now: the 3M Austin Half-Marathon. It only says tentative because I haven't booked the flight yet. Yup, going down to the Lone Star state and run a little race, hear a little indie music, and meet up with a little friend. OK, our friend is actually normal size but I had to finish the triad. I'm really excited about this race because it's a Half-Mary (woo hoo!) and mostly downhill (double woo hoo!).

I've also told myself that since I'll be bringing down the running intensity (yea!) that I will focus on my overall fitness while prepping for this race. That means actually doing cross-training and always doing pre- and post- work-out stretches and watching what I eat. My goal for this race is to become healthier (and a little bit faster) by the time I cross the finish line--I won't be running just to run, but running to become healthier.

That said, I've also had San Francisco up for the past five months as the marathon I'll be tackling next year. But after Baltimore I'm rethinking that decision. San Francisco is a much, MUCH hillier course than Baltimore--so I'm thinking that it might be better as my third or fourth marathon. In that case I have to change my plans around for the rest of 2008. Thoughts?

Also--and this is for you, Marcy--my feet are still handsome devils. They came out of that race without a single blister, black nail, or callus between them. Fortunately I wear sneakers all the time, otherwise the ladies would be all over my feet--and wife will have none of that.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

Quick update

Been busy for the past two weeks, so here are some quick bullet point updates:

• Last weekend I was drop-dead tired and couldn't finish what was supposed to be a 10-mile run
• I blame the hot weather for the difficultly running outside: not only the heat, but I have to wake early even to run on the weekends...no sleep=no energy
• During some track work last week there was a guy in a white shirt that was just buzzing by everyone, and during a walking break he blasted past me. So I decided to catch up during my next interval. After what turned into the fastest 1200 meters I've ever run, I realized that I was using him as a rabbit AND he was wearing a white shirt. I thought this was hilarious, in a runner's humor kind of way.
• I'm off to Philly this weekend to visit in-laws and run 15-miles--Fairmount Park here I come!

14 miles

I did it: today I ran further than I have ever run before.

After the inital wave of tiredness and exhaustation, I felt really proud. Despite taking one or two walking breaks and encountering some nasty hills, I kept my pace under my goal pace of 9:00--even if only by two seconds.

What is even better/more thrilling is comparing my run today to my first Half-Marathon. I was destroyed after that race: I could barely walk, I had multiple blisters, I was absolutely tapped dry of energy (I even took a two-hour nap...a TWO-HOUR nap, I never do that). I told my wife (at that time, my girlfriend) that I would never run again, ever. But after today's run I stretched, bought some Powerade, and hopped on a subway home. That's it. There was no agony, no torturous walk on quarter-sized blisters, no cursing of the running gods--and I think that's great. I'm really proud of how far I have come. I mean, in the vast hierarchy of runnners I'm no great success story and certainly no speed demon, but with tons of determination and a dash of stubborness I've improved a lot over time.

I'm happy.


On a side note: as a result of today's run the hills in Prospect Park are on my shit list. I hate them. I hate them so much.

Stormy weather

I ran in the rain this week. I've always been a fair-weather runner, but the idea of having to put in yet another run on a treadmill this week just turned me off completely; so when I went outside on Wednesday morning I was going to put in my 3 miles rain or shine. Of course, I told myself it would just keep on sprinkling...which turned out to be a lie.

A half-mile into the run I realized that the rain was only getting stronger. Thankfully, I had decided to leave my iPod at home. I turned up the speed, finished the 3 mile run, and got my stride work done all in about 40 minutes. Just as the rain became monsoon-like.

I know there is a school of runners out there that enjoys running in the rain--people who find it exciting and refreshing. I am not one of those runners. As I had always assumed, the rain just made me want to stop and go home. You get wet everywhere (a different kind of "wet everywhere" than sweat induces). You get depressed by the crappy weather. And all the puddles get your shoes soaked. Not my idea of fun.

Moral of the story: I will continue being a fair-weather runner.

And now a word about Harry Potter.... Spent last night hopping from event to event for the first night of sales for the book. We reserved our book at the Barnes & Noble at Union Square since that is the closest one to my office. What a bad idea. What a MAJORLY bad idea. Everyone and their mother was there...literally, all the kids had their moms. The line was a disorganized mess. It was chaotic and haphazard and kinda reminded me of the starting line corrals at a race. Its not something that I would do again--but that was the idea: this was something we could never do again.

So my wife is currently 87 pages into the book...which, quite frankly, is not far enough for this increasingly-impatient patient runner.

Harry Potter and The Distance Runner

Like so many this month I am suffering from a bit of Harry Potter mania.

Ok, ok, maybe not mania. I didn't go see the midnight opening of the movie dressed in robes and round glasses, but I do have phases where I can spend hours on sites like the-leaky-cauldron.org and jkrowling.com and can't help but be sucked into everything about the books.

Last night I saw the latest movie at the IMAX at Lincoln Center. Its my favorite of the movies so far. The movie making is the most sophisticated (matching the increasing weight of the plot) and it also the only movie that feels connected to the others (thanks to flashbacks to scenes from the previous four films).

Now to add fuel to the fire, in only five days the seventh and final book will hit the shelves. And truth be told, I will probably be in line to get a copy at midnight...and I may go to the street party at Scholastic headquarters--but only because it's just a few blocks away from my office and it'll be the last chance ever the see a blowout event like this. Unfortunately, my wife is also hooked on the books and next weekend will most likely be a battle royal over who will get to read the book. (Odds are stacked against me because she is the faster reader and will probably finish reading all 700+ pages in that weekend.)

So that's my passion of the moment.

On the running front things are good. After a pathetic run on Tuesday morning I did a pretty good job on Wednesday's and Thursday's runs. And then yesterday I managed a dead-on 9-minute pace for the 12 mile long run: my exact goal pace for the marathon. Not sure if this is good or bad. I mean, it's great that I have the 9-minute pace down, but I'm only at 12 miles and running logic dictates that you get slower at longer distances. But on the other hand, during training for all my previous races I managed to get faster as training progressed because I became increasingly comfortable with a quicker pace at a longer distance. But then again, this is a new distance for me.

I've also noticed a new set of demons in training for MY FIRST MARATHON EVER. The demons from my half-marathon days were weak and could usually be shrugged off with a little bit of concentration and a good iPod playlist. But these marathon demons, they are on a different order of trouble. They haunt me during the day and remind me constantly that I am attempting to DOUBLE the longest distance I've ever run. During almost every run I remember the year I volunteered at Boston and saw dozens of runners collapse at the finish line (completely forgetting the 1,000s of runners who did not collapse.) I constantly think about the time, energy, and complete exhaustion that is involved in running a full marathon. And about once a day, every day, I think to myself: what the hell am I doing? These marathon demons suck--and I haven't even crossed the half-marathon mark in training yet.

Bahston Runnah

In Boston this weekend. All the weather forecasts said it would be rainy and hot--but I'm training for MY FIRST MARATHON EVER and I love this city, so some bad weather wasn't going to keep me from my run yesterday morning.

I carefully mapped out a route with lots of sights around the city (it took me three tries to get it down right) and was eager to head out. Perhaps a little too eager. I went to bed at 1am on Friday night (er, Saturday morning) and at 530 I sprung awake..even though I didn't plan on waking up until 730. (I hate it when this happens.) So I go in and out of sleep for two hours. Once the alarm goes off at 730 I start the rituals: drinking water, shaking off the grogginess, etc. Oddly enough I wasn't hungry.

By 8am I was outside the hotel (which was right on the finish line for the Marathon) and stretching. In the 3 years I lived here I've never seen the streets so empty as they were yesterday morning. Then again, in college I tended to not do very much at 8am. Anywho, it turned out to be perfect running conditions: high 60s, overcast skies, and relatively low humidity.

So I start running at the corner of the Public Library. Within the first mile I've managed to flare up my shins. Wtf? Usually this doesn't happen unless I've done lots of hill work. Oh wait, I did do lots of hill work on Thursday. So now I feel the pain. Great. So I focus on my hamstrings (pulling up my legs) instead of focusing on my quads (pushing down my legs). I'm not sure if this is proper technique, hell, I not even 100% sure that it's a safe technique, but it is a trick I learned a long time ago when I first started running. I noticed that if I don't make a conscious effort to use my hamstrings, I won't, and then I'll burn through my quads really fast and I'll start getting shin splints. So I focus on the hammies and the shin splits start to go away...

...Only to give way to my favorite running friend: my bowels ("my boys"). They are the bane of my running. If I have one weakness that I just can't shake off it's my damned digestive system. Right around mile 3 my boys decide to wake up and demand some love. At first it's just a subtle wave, something I would have ignored years ago. But I know better: my boys are packing heat and I'm only a 1/3 of the way through. I make pretty good progress along the Esplanade and the Harvard Bridge, but once I'm back on the Cambridge side of the Charles the boys are back--of course in the one stretch that has no bathrooms. So I struggle through the next 2 miles--focusing on my breathing, which always helps. I get stopped by a man looking for the airport (he is way lost, and you do not want to be lost in Boston) and afterward I realize that when I stopped to talk to this man instead of hitting the stop button on my watch, I've hit the lap button. Wonderful.

I pull into the last mile trying to stay on a 9 minute pace, but since I messed up the timing, I have no idea what I'm at. And every time I speed up, the boys get all excited because it means the end is near--so then I have to slow back down.

So I finish on Boylston. Not my best finish, but I did it and I ran the whole way (which is still a concern for me even after 7 years of running). While I'm not excited about the pace I maintained, I am happy that I was able to deal with the shin pain successfully.

P.S. So I was browsing the running section of Barnes and Noble on Thursday and found an interesting tid-bit in Jeff Galloway's training book (one of the many). It seems that for the first Olympics the marathon was 25 miles. But for the London games in 1902 (?) the Queen asked for the race to start at Buckingham place instead of the original starting line. The Games complied and moved the starting line back 1.2 miles without adjusting the finish line. Because of this some runners say "God Save the Queen" at mile 25. Interesting to know.

Independence Day

Lots of unconnected thoughts today from my run:

1. I need new music.
2. I'm getting used to morning runs--it's almost magical seeing the world before it gets busy, especially in this city. The dawn paints everything a different color. Even New York looks peaceful in the dawn.
3. My speed and endurance are starting to come back (I missed them!).
4. Damn it--I should have slowed down during my first mile.
5. I'm pissed because I'm supposed to have tomorrow and Friday off from work as bonus days, but with a major presentation due on Tuesday, I might not be so fortunate.
6. There is a public pool in Astoria park. Upon further research I've found that it is one of the largest in the country and the largest in New York. How did I miss this?
7. I like running outside because I can try to pick off other runners (in addition to the scenery, sunshine, fresh air, etc.)
8. I need to go to the beer garden.
9. I forgot to pick up the laundry yesterday...crap. Now I have to wait until tomorrow.
10. Wait, I still have 14.5 more weeks to go until Baltimore? Man, I can't wait until I cross that finish line.
11. Why is it that runners don't say hello to each other here? When I lived in Miami and Boston everyone said hi. Silly New Yorkers.

That's about it. Really excited about going to Boston this weekend. Not so excited about the forecast (rain with a chance of monsoon).

Happy Independence Day.

sRod Over Hard

It is hot as hell out there. Not summer blackout hot--that happens in July around here--but even 80 degrees feels like the friggin Sahara.

To give you an idea, after the run (during which I had water), I drank a liter of water, drank a bottle of chocolate milk (I swear it works better than Gatorade after a run), had a bagel, and STILL managed to come back home a pound lighter than when I left.

On top of that, I went running with my friend who has a marathon PR pace of 7:50 min/mile, and normally trains at speeds faster than that. (My training pace is 8:40, 8:30 on a GREAT day.) So I tried desparately to keep up. And failed. Yeah, real nice ego boost during my first week fo training.

Good news is that next weekend I'll be in Boston (my sister will be there for a conference) and will be able to put in some time along the Charles. In my head, the trails up and down the Charles are Rodeo Drive for runners. (During college I was actually intimidated to run along the Charles with the 1000s of phenonmenal Boston runners.) The sights are beautiful: the view from the Longfellow Bridge, the sailboats in the back bay, the views of MIT, the smoots, my alma mater, etc. On top of that, there is the storied history of running in Boston. It's inspiring. Hopefully, this will help shake off the painful run I had today.

Also, my wife went with me today. Unfortunately, she got to see me tired and grumpy after a disappointing run. But the great thing is that I got to share something with her that I seldom am able to.