30 minute run

Well almost. 28:50, just shy of 3 miles. Slow going in the morning, but after my run stretching on the porch with a smoothie thinking yeah I like this.

For Auld Lang Syne

Can't decide on a New Year's Resolution, with so many to choose from.

#1 Watch less TV
#2 Run more miles per week
#3 Finally buy a house already
#4 Create a real PHR and pour tons of health and exercise data into it all year. Graph the results.
#5 Finances and health: 100% online, integrated, and manageable (should be easy by now, I mean this is 2010, right?)
#6 Completely avoid the gym for the first 2 weeks in January, then train for a marathon.
#7 Save the world, because while I'm at it why the heck not?

Neurons are Accelerometers

I swing my arms with each step. The centrifugal force fills the capillaries in my hands, causing pressure on nerve endings which I feel as a pleasant wooshing sensation. I can tell when they are moving straight up and down, front to back, contributing ever so slightly to my overall forward motion. I can also feel when they swing wide, sapping a measure of momentum with pendulous regularity. This is one of many frictions and forces conspiring to slow me down, a complex web of muscle strain vs elasticity, bounce vs inertia, laws of physics vs state of mind.

I found my gear-check bag from the San Jose half marathon and inside was a shirt. I wore this shirt, ran 13.1 miles, stuffed it in a gear bag, and gave it no further thought. That was almost two months ago. The shirt still had my number pinned to it. It had not been washed.

Think I'll go for a run now.

Burning Calves

There I was on my mountain bike atop Skyline Ridge Trail, the San Francisco skyline ahead of me, the bay to my right, the ocean to my left, hawks flying above and below. All in the name of cross-training. It's good to have a reason to do this. My calves and ankles were feeling pretty beat up from the running lately, and nothing stretches them out like a good bike ride. Except at the end, flying down the hill towards the parking lot, feet at 3 and 6 o'clock, bobbing and weaving over the bumps and jumps, my calves absolutely on fire the whole way down.

Pain for gain and a with little rest I'll be stronger for it. This is what it takes to run a marathon. Six days a week, an hour of intensity most days, hill repeats, tempo runs, mountain biking, and a two hour run every weekend. That has to be the base.

So I Had a Bad Day

Ran the dish yesterday in 35 minutes, back of the pack. Definitely an off day, so let's review.

Nutrition - coworkers took me out for a farewell lunch at PF Chang's, exactly the wrong food for running.

Conditioning - Using the "I'm recovering from a marathon" excuse only works for two weeks. After that I'm just being lazy, even if I am wearing my marathon shirt. I felt like I had too much untapped glycogen in my legs, more energy stores than muscle, definitely not that "running lean" feeling I want.

State of mind - oscillating between self-doubt and who gives a f---.

Stride - off balance. I usually have a mantra. This time, no mantra.

End result - I kept moving until I got there, but it wasn't the relaxing zen feeling I look for in a run. I need to up my weekly mileage. I also need to fix my reward system. Just because I like peanut butter ice cream doesn't mean I can eat it for no reason. I have to work for it or it throws off my motivation. So today I spent an hour at the gym and rewarded myself with some chocolate milk. If I'm good then maybe this weekend I can run 16 miles and have some peanut butter ice cream.

Only Ten Miles?

More and more I appreciate the mental challenge of long distance running. It should get easier. No it should not. Doing something difficult is the point. Maintaining pace while you deteriorate, holding it together when you are falling to pieces.

I set out with the lofty goal of 16 miles, as a summer base to carry me into the October marathon. Then life happens. Late night, early morning, barely made it on time and the only hydration was half a can of leftover diet soda. That's when I knew it was not going to be a 16 mile day. I can run an hour without water okay, that's seven, eight miles tops. I ran five out, then a bit more to the dam before turning back. Then the real challenge: it was five miles back.

Don't try this at home, kids.

In a way I looked at it as another challenge. I took a ten mile run and made it as hard as sixteen. I got to that "I want to stop now" feeling that I need to power through. I maintained pace... for the most part. I maintained, physically and mentally, steady to the last mile. I can run another ten minutes, I kept reminding myself.

I made it. When I was done I drove straight to Robert's Market in Woodside, bought a large cold bottle of Gatorade, and drank until I had brain freeze.

Forward Motional Stability

Up to a point it's about how well you train. After that it's how much pain can you endure. More accurately, how hard can you work to inflict pain on yourself. You expect a marathon to test you physically. The mental and emotional tests come as a more of a surprise.

The hardest part was knowing I could simply stop. After everything I did to push myself up to and beyond my threshold of pain, to think maybe I could just stop. It is mental work to endure pain. The threshold can be increased, only to crash through it again. When you've spent enough time over your limit it doesn't matter anymore.

Oxygen depletion has its own side effects. The world comes and goes in waves.

To keep a steady pace while you undergo a steep decline, that is the game.

Sleep Soundly, For Tomorrow We Run

Everything is set, I have all the supplies for Saturday's run, we have a plan, we're all on the same page, I can sleep peacefully, without worry. I drift off...

In my dream, I woke up in a panic. What time am I supposed to be at the run? 6:30am. I look at my clock. It's 6:25! Why didn't I set my alarm? They're counting on me, I'm going to be late. I jump out of bed and run to the dresser to get my running gear. I open the drawer but it's full of nothing but boxer shorts. I open another. There it is. I grab a pair of running shorts and slip them on, but they don't fit, it's like they're 4 sizes too small. I'm hopping around the bedroom trying to get them on and the room goes all squirmy. Just when I think, this is just like those dreams I have, I realize it is

I wake up.

From my bed I can see it's only 5am. Good, I have plenty of time. I turn on the light, get up and head into the kitchen for coffee. That's when it really hits me.

The run isn't until tomorrow.

I turn around and go back to bed.

Commitment. Dedication. Whatever.

When you turn the TV off, you turn the world on. Perhaps the key is committing to what you really want to do. It's not the obligation or the deadline, it's waking up every morning and thinking about what you can do next, and the possibilities are wide open.

Right now I'm living my ideal Sunday: coffee outside with KFOG's Acoustic Sunrise playing in the background (all radio, even local, is streamed over the Internet at my house), a bit of cleaning, and later an afternoon in Golden Gate Park and Haight Street. I need some new guitar strings and maybe I'll find something interesting at Amoeba Records. The DJ there always has something on tap. Last time it was Taken by Trees, a 45 single.

Of course a vital part of my ideal Sunday is resting, relaxing, and generally feeling good, made possible by a Saturday morning long run. Twelve miles yesterday, I'm finally back in the range of the long distance runner. It takes hard work to relax this much.

Within it all, I keep thinking about what I've committed to do, how much I want to do it, and what do I most want to commit to next? The possibilites are wide open.

Rock n Roll Seattle

So I got talked into running a fourth marathon. I can accept that. I've been slacking, I can accept that too. Now, after fighting a wicked cold I'm pretty much starting from my base, so I better get serious about training from here on out.

Rock n Roll Seattle Marathon

This looks like it could be a whole lot of fun. Miles and miles of fun. I had my first marathon. I had my on-my-own marathon, I had my worst marathon. Now it's time for my best. It's going to take time, dedication, willpower. It would be a good idea to give up television for a while. I need to start now, and before I put it off another minute I'll say it again.

Right now is the only time I ever do anything.

!

Philosopher/Bureaucrat

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

-Ecclesiastes

Objective consideration of contemporary phenomena compels the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.

-George Orwell

It's Beginning To Run A Lot Like Christmas

Running on the Town Lake trails under a gray drizzly sky, church bells ringing Christmas songs. It's cold and wet but I'm nice and cozy in my oompa-loompa style hooded jogging suit. My core is telling me I haven't been doing this enough, could be yet another New Year's Resolution. But for now it's just the trails, the runners, and the promise of a peppermint mocha afterwords. It feels good.

More Marathon Musings

It was like running on another planet (a planet with ten times Earth's gravity and half as much air), a lovely country road on a beautiful sunny day, just the way it always looks when suddenly everything is different now. Each step sent a new shock wave rolling up my body.

Live intensely.

There comes a place where you have only six point two miles to go. I can run that distance in 40 minutes, jog it in an hour, or keep walking until I get there. For most of the race, though, you're not there yet.

We pass the Lone Star Brewry. Twice. This truly is a test of willpower.

We run past the old Spanish missions. Prayer might help, but I can't risk putting stress on my knees. If you think about it, you do have time to run in and say a quick Hail Mary.

When I look back now, I think about crossing the finish line less than I think about all the rest of the race, beginning, middle, and end. Every mile has its own character, its own challenges.

The Sabermetrician in Me

Yes, it is a baseball term, and I don't know if there is an equivalent for running, but I discovered my time is better than third place in the female age 12-14 division. That's right, I only got beat by two 12-year-old girls! Something to be proud of, I think.

Half Marathon PR - It's Official

My finisher certificate from the San Jose Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon came in the mail. My offical time was 1:45:29. I placed 189th (out of 766) in my division, 938th (out of 4222) among men, and 1174th (out of 9625) overall. I'm very happy with that result.

My "age grade" is 57.2, less than 3 points below "local class," the lowest grade. Presumably if I don't run fast enough to be in a grade, does that I'm just casual runner? Judging by the results, there's a lot of us.

I like half marathons, and I'm thinking if I can run an 8:03 pace, I can shave a few seconds off and run in the high-7s.

A Long Long Way to Run

I remember the best parts first. The anticipation waiting at the starting line under a waning gibbous moon, then rounding the many street corners ol' San Antone at sunrise, down familiar country roads and back again to cheering crowds. I'm convinced they added that last .2 miles to marathons because the excitement and exhilaration of the last .2 miles completely erases the pain of the previous 26. Afterwords, there is laughter and jokes, crawling in and out of cars, baby giraffe walks, merriment and beer.

Niamh (that's prounced Neeve, for the non-Irish speakers) had a great day and qualified for Boston on her second marathon, a fact I had to point out to as many people as possible as we walked back to the car. Me, I had a slightly worse time. The good news is I'm not so sore because I didn't run as fast as I expected. The bad news is I didn't run as fast as I expected. I probably started out a little too fast, and it soon became clear I would have to I take my time and enjoyed the scenery on that country road home (hey John Denver!). It was run walk run walk run cramp walk run walk walk walk run whew!

Pre-Pre-Race Dream

Dreamed I was late. Not for the race, but for the day before the race. The reason? It involved a girl and class I had in college, along with an unlikely cast of celebrities. Other than that, the dream didn't make a whole lot of sense.

The plan today is a pancake breakfast, then to Run-Tex to buy clothes for unexpectedly cold weather. I probably shouldn't dress for temps between 50 70 when it's going to be 30 to 50.

Dream What May

In a funny way, I actually enjoy the anxiety dreams that come the night before a big race. It's part of the process, part of the excitement, and it's fascinating the stuff my brain comes up with under stress. So I thought I'd list a few of the dreams I've had the night before past races.

San Jose, 2007, my first half marathon, I dreamed I couldn't find my shoes and socks. I looked everywhere, found one under the bed, one in the closet under a pile of junk, found my socks in weird places. Then I finally had them all gathered, I put them on. Ready to go, I looked down and discovered I was barefoot. My shoes and socks had disappeared. I frantically looked everywhere. I found one in the kitchen, the other behind the TV. I put them on and next thing I know they're gone again. This went on, each time I put my shoes on they disappeared, and I found them scattered around the house in progressively more unusual places after much frantic searching. Oh, and there was a girl in this dream. Or rather, would have been if I could ever find my shoes and get to the starting line.

Several times I've had a dream where my clothes shrink and grow to impossible dimensions while I'm trying to put them on, or is it me, like Alice in Wonderland eating magic cakes.

The night before Nike in San Francisco, I dreamed had to run a quick errand before the race. Next thing I know I'm in Palo Alto - 30 miles away - on my bicycle, asking for directions to the starting line.

In Hawaii, I dreamed that half way through the marathon I stopped for lunch. By the time I finished and stepped back outside, night had fallen. I wondered, do I finish running the course in the dark?

Also the night before Nike, I dreamed I overslept and woke up an hour after the race started. I wondered, should I run the race anyway? And what do I tell everyone afterwords? In my dream I considered hiding out another hour and then just pretending I ran.

I often have dreams about oversleeping, yet I don't think I've ever overslept. I seem to be able to wake up at the right time, even under normal circumstances. Often I wake up less than five minutes before my alarm goes off. It's like I have an internal alarm clock with remarkable precision. As long as I know what time I want to wake up I seem to just wake up. My clock radio is just there for reassurance, it seems. When I was a kid I practiced lucid dreaming.

I'm sure there's more, I remember having more, but dreams are fleeting. Most are gone as soon as they arrive. Even jarring dreams are lost within hours of waking. A precious few stay long enough to tell a friend. One, perhaps, might linger for years, haunting, reminding, but it is not the dream that stays, it is we who hold on to it, refusing to let it go, afraid of losing something we never had. Dreams want to be forgotten. Dreams, dark vacuum cleaner of the mind, throwing out the day's clutter and making room for another.

Dreams. They come and go like trains, and my sleeping mind but a whistle-stop on their way.

And Away I Go

Bags are packed, ready to go. How ready? Did I prepare? Were the workouts enough? The 20 mile run? Did I rest enough? Too much? Race day it's come as you are. I'll step out on that starting line and I won't stop until I'm across the finish. Whatever comes in between, I can take it. Ready or not here I come.

To Endure

In 2000 I took part in something called the Everest Environmental Expedition. No, I didn't see Nepal, I only helped with the web site and attended all the fund-raisers. How about that, I worked for free AND donated money. Lately I've been thinking about the time I heard someone say that climbing Everest isn't about athletic ability, it's about how much pain you can endure. I guess you start walking up that mountain and just keep going. I ran 20.2 miles last weekend, through the wall, past the landmarks of tired, sore, to the point where all I want to do is stop. Asking myself one question. How do I get to a state of mind where I can keep going?

I'm still not sure.