Running

I got one hell of a surprise today. I finished the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon in under four hours. I started the race thinking I'd make 4:20 if I was lucky. So, I'm a very happy boy. A very sore, very happy boy.

This is me waving to my lovely wife and telling her that I love her. I'm about to enter the Maw of Pain. Here, at mile eighteen , the course goes up, and then it goes up some more, and after that, you guessed it, up.

Here I am finishing. My wife caught the classic finishers shot, notice the clock in featured prominently in the picture. You're just going to have to trust me that it doesn't read 13:54.

The guy on my right is Brian. He finished with me. We started running together around mile fifteen, or so. He was a big help getting through some of the hills.

He would always stop at the water stations, and I didn't. Yet, he would always catch right up with me. gives me the sneaking suspicion that he could have left me behind whenever he wanted to. Thanks for sticking around Brian.

Here it is; me finishing my first under four hour marathon. This was the scene yesterday in Louisville, KY. Ann is on the far right side of the picture and the clock is on the far left. I'm the one wearing the red hat, stopping his watch. My brother Victor took the photograph.

My brother's photo shows the glory. Here is the picture Ann is taking in the picture Victor took.

You can see the grimace on my face, juxtaposed with the chirpy blonde announcer woman. Ann's photo captures the truth.

I ran my last long run before the Louisville Marathon on October 21st. It was a 20 miler and I did it in 2 hours and 50 miniutes, which completely kicks ass. At least it kicked mine. This is me after the run.

I started at the house and finished at the house. Here's the path I put in earlier this year, so that Ann could walk to the mailboxe without having to go through the wet grass. This view is leaving the house. See the mailbox in the distance?

And a close up.

That's my foot. That foot was especially happy to see the path. It wanted me to sit down.

Sunday, I will put in my last long run before my first marathon of the season, 20 miles. Then there's a three week taper where I run less and less, saving my legs for the race. There will be only two marathons, so it's a pretty short season; the Louisville Marathon, and the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon. Yep, just like last year, only faster...I hope. 

Training has been going well. I had a little setback a few weeks ago, but then, I apparently don't know how to train for a marathon without having a setback so, business as usual. I'm looking to do somewhere between a 3:45 and a 3:55 marathon in Louisville, and for the Flying Monkey I'm just hoping to cover the distance and survive the winged primate attacks.

Here are the shoes that I'll be wearing:

Mizuno Wave Rider 10

Wish me luck.

I had an encouraging visit with my physical therapist this morning.

The gist of it is that my condition is not to serious. I'm not staring down a future as a cripple. At least not unless I try to weasel out of paying my bill. We're going to work on getting my disks back to where they're supposed to be, by doing a series of exercises, one that involves me pushing on my chin and another where I drop my head backward, while I stare at the ceiling. It's not manditory that I cackle insanely, as I drop my head backward and stare at the ceiling, but I think it adds flavor to the whole affair.

Of course now that my neck is getting straightened out my calf hurts. Yeah, I over did it running and I'll have to take a few weeks off. No problem, really. I've got plenty of time to heal up before my races.

I have been running my ass off. It is gone. Here's where part of it has gone.

I've gotten much faster and stronger this year. This is a great finish for me, especially considering the course.

None the less, you have to remember who finished ahead of me...

Yes, that's right, the age group I move into next year totally kicked the ass I thought I no longer had.

On a less sane note.

I've just registered for the Harpeth Hill Flying Monkey Marathon 2007. Well, it didn't kill me last year.

I've been running. It's been going very well. Training usually goes well up to about this point. Then I do something stupid, actually, I usually do several something stupids, and then I have to trudge through any number of setbacks that have deservedly camped out on my doorstep.

These are my feet, as they look to me while I am doing a stretch that benefits my left T-band.

Stretching is one thing I've been doing more of. I've been supplanting stupid things with smart things. I call it "experience".

This morning The Nashville Striders hosted the first run of a series of marathon training runs which happen bi-annually. This run, dubbed the "Bongo to Bongo" because it goes from the Bongo Java coffee house in east Nashville to the Bongo Java coffee house in west Nashville, is 14 miles long. (As I write this, I am aware that I have blogged about this run in the past because I remember creating these links before.) I had a terrific run. Which means I must be especially careful, because terrific training runs have a tendency to inspire stupid behavior on my part. I'm not stupid. I just thought you know that.

Here's Hassiba, as seen from the vantage point of the T-band stretch, performed improperly, (you should keep your back straight).

Next week is easy week! Every fourth week, I decrease my mileage by 25%, in order to give my legs a rest and let them recover. Easy week is a beautiful week.

I should probably mention that several dozens of runners slayed the beast faster than I did, but screw that. I'm a hero! And I have the photos to prove it.

My finishers medal made of wood:

And here I am crossing the line almost an entire three minutes before my predicted finish time.

All hail the conquering hero!

Or not, whatever works for you.

The Monkey is just around the corner. I've not lost any weight as I had hoped in this post. Instead I've come to realize that the fat man is inside of me because I ate him. A very disturbing discovery for a vegetarian to make, but there it is.

I've promised my wife that I won't die running the Monkey. I may have to kill, though. If Trent, the race director is anywhere near me at mile 18, well lets just say I hope he spends some quality time with his wife and children this week.

Just look at this profile:

Look at mile 18.

LOOK AT IT!!!

If I can get to mile 20 in one piece, why, I could eat glaciers in one sitting, I could call the sun from the sky to do my bidding, I could get monkeys to fly out my butt.

First of all, I had a great time, with maybe the exception of miles 17 through 22, and well, miles 10 through 14 were kind of sucky, and it’s always hard to get started so miles 0-5, weren’t so good, and it’s a marathon so even though finishing is a great feeling the last four miles, let’s
face it they just blow. Yeah, I had a great time. When I say time, I am refering to “time” in the general, not the specific.

My “time” in the specific was not what I was hoping for, but
on the other hand considering last year I only ran four miles of the race, finishing is an improvement. I did not know what sort of Pyrrhic victory I was in for.

Let me begin by saying that the night before the race I was
awoken at 2:46 AM by a band of mariachis, (yes, I said mariachis), playing in the parking lot beneath my window. I was hoping it would be just one song, but after a short break they launched into song two, and followed that up with everyone’s favorite, song three, at which point they were drawing a crowd. I put on some clothes on and considerably more diplomacy than I was feeling, and went outside to breakup the party. Luckily, the partiers responded reasonably, albeit disappointedly, to my request to stop playing. I shook hands with the
accordian player, and turned to go inside, as their hostess the blonde gringo lady muttered under her breath, “Partypooper.”

I’m certain that if I had gotten the full nights rest I never would’ve made the series of tragic decisions that lead me to think the the next days event as something comparable to extreme renditon.

I won’t detail my mistakes. Let’s just say I learned a lot from this race.

And now, the breakdown:

Mile 1 8:44 – I’m going out way to fast, I told myself a million times, “Don’t go out to fast,” but this is Ben’s fault. A more experienced runner, Ben had told me he was going out in 9’s (still way to fast for me, but I’m still blaming Ben and the mariachis). He lied. I slow down and let go of staying with Ben.

Mile 2 9:04 – My heart rate is at 90%, but I’m sure this is just because I’m excited and once I get into a rhythm it will go down. Somewhere near here we turn 360% and are now heading into the wind. A big wind.

Mile 3 7:547 – I’ve just lost all faith in the mile
markers. I will never regain it.

Miles 4 and 5 – 9:31, 8:15 – I was right to become a non-believer.

Miles 6 and 7 – 8:50, 8:53 - Just past the mile seven marker is the half marathon turn around. Just past the half marathon I’m greeted by a
huge gust of wind. I’m in so much more trouble than I know. Heart rate still at 90%.

Miles 8 thru 11 -
9:06, 9:57, 8:23, 9:06 - Because of my times on miles 9 and 10, I am no longer a non-believer, I am a heretic. The full strength gatorade is dancing in my stomach to the imaginary music in my stomach, played of course, by mariachis.

Miles 12 and 13 – 18:29 - Some water staions have mile markers, at others the markers are further down the path. As a consequence, I’m never sure if the water station is a mile marker or not. Near here I pass the gazebo in Shawnee Park, where my wife has befriended half a dozen people waiting to see their marathoner, and they all call my name cheering me on. Very cool folks. Very cool wife.

Mile 14 9:23 - Guess
who’s stomach is cramping. Guess who’s slowing down. I see Ben heading back. He looks great. Bastard.

Miles 15 and 16 –
20:38 - I’m heading back now and that’s the only good thing that’s happening. I’ve lost my legs, because I sold them out for a vain bid for glory, and my stomach is re-enacting the most vicious battles of the American Civil War. I pass my wife on the backside of the gazebo at mile 16 and issue this warning, “Honey, this is going to take a while.”

Miles 17 thru 22 – 22:20,
11:23, 22:20, 11:26, 24:47, 11:49 - There’s walking, there’s running. Folks are passing me, Im passing folks. My heart rate in down to 85% then on down to 80%. My stomach is starting to ease up. I’m not disappointed that I won’t finish in anything like under 4 hour which is what I had hoped. I’m glad I’m not disappointed because it’s clear now that I’m going to die soon, and I don’t want to carry those disappointments into the next life with me.

Miles 23 thru 26.2 –
11:29, 11:26, 12:08, 13:30 My feet hurt. My legs hurt. My back and shoulders hurt. But I’m not going to die. In fact I’m not only going to live, I’m going to finish this race with a PR. I’m not walking anymore. I couldn’t really call what I’m doing running, it’s more of a shuffle. But, I’m not walking.

The race begins and ends on a loop. At the end, as I go up the loop, in the middle my brother and my wife greet me and yell encouragement. Then something very weird happens. I run past them, uphill toward the top of the loop. There’s a big crowd around the bottom, but no one is near the top. It’s peaceful, but it’s also kind of lonely.
Sort of like being on a cloud and looking down on your loved ones. It’s not much of an uphill, but it is the last 2/10 of a mile, of a marathon. It’s hard to keep running. At this point you’re not going to stop running, not so close to the finish, but it’s still hard to keep running. And everyone seems so far away. For a momment I wonder if this is what it would feel like if I were to have died around mile 22. The top of loop is past and now I’m going downhill.
I’m running back toward my family and friends. I’m going to finish. 4:25:18

I'm drinking water and I'm excited, which means I'm off the lavatory, (oh aren't we so fine with our lavatory and our four and five syllable words), every two minutes. Yes, race day is nigh. On Sunday, I will run the Lousiville Marathon, and this time, I really think I can. For those of you who don't remember last year I injured myself and finished only four of the twenty-six miles of the marathon.

Hypotemia, by the way, is what happens to you if you drink too much water. You wash out your electrolytes and you're are very screwed at that point. It can quite possibly be the kind of screwing you die from. It is much more dangerous than dehydration, which is most often suffered by experienced runners that cut their liquid intake to close, in an effort to shave of a few seconds off their time, as opposed to the inexperienced runner who was just to stupid to drink when he or she was thirsty.

If I drink now I don't have to drink so much later.

I'm a little disjointed here. I'm excited about the race and I'm trying to get started on my homework so that I won't have to worry about it later. So, I think I'll just say, "God help a poor man who has decided to run 26.2 miles, and if it's alright let that poor man be me," and sign off.

Run you beautiful monkey! Run!

I ran six miles on Sunday. It was a good run even though my heartbeat was high. I was suprised at how hot it was. I ran at about two in the afternoon and it was about 82 degrees out. The heat made my heart rate high, but still I was comfortable running with a heart rate at about 93% of my maximum. I wasn't going very fast, only around 9 minute miles.

The question in my mind now is whether or not I should try and make up for the long run I missed. Usually, you want to get in at least two 20 mile runs before a marathon, but you want those behind you about 4 weeks before the race. If I run a twenty it will be this coming weekend, three weeks before the race.

The monkeys will know what to do! I'll ask the monkeys!

I have a tendency to hurt myself. Around this time of year I get depressed and I don't even see it. Not until my wife points out that I'm acting weird...weirder. It's a result of grieving. I've found myself running crazy after so hardcore long runs and getting hurt. That's a result of trying to control things beyond my control. Those of you that have been around here have heard all this before, but this year there is a twist.
One of the people most dear to me in the world has been battling cancer and it's been very rough on him. I hadn't realized how rough it's been on me. Skip is a man that has taught me so much about being alive the only way I can hope to repay him is to pass along what I've learned.
Some of what he tried to teach me I'm still learning, in particular, that you can feel what you feel in the present. You don’t have to put your feelings aside and march bravely forward, but if you choose to do so, you will lose the opportunity to act in the moment, which leaves you only possibility of reacting somewhere down the line.
Without consciously knowing it I’ve been putting off the feelings of sadness over Skip’s illness as well as the death of my friend Will for a more convenient time. Well, of course there is no convenient time to be sad, so left to my own devises I would have put it off all together.
Last week at my AA home group, Jeff, Will’s sponsor came by to say he’d been avoiding us because it was just too painful to come back to that room. This opened up the floodgates I had tried so hard to keep closed. Sadness sucks, but it’s part of life and I can’t have a full life without it.
So, why is the running foot at the top of this post? Because the day after Jeff came by, I had a half-marathon race at the Charles Bass Correctional Facility. The Sunday before I had run a long run of 21 miles so my legs were pretty tired. That didn’t stop me from running like I was being chased by a banshee.
I started out fast and just got faster. We run laps around the ball field and each runner is assigned a prisoner to count her or his laps. I decided not to trust my counter and on my last lap Nick came up form behind to challenge me, so it became an all out sprint for the finish. We tied, except for the fact that I had already finished and had run an extra lap that I didn’t need. Sprinting at the end of a hard ling run especially when you legs are already run down is a great way to get hurt.
I got hurt.
This has been a tough week. Grieving Will’s death, feeling sad about Skip, and trying to accept that I’d hurt myself again and might have ruined my chances to run the Louisville Marathon, has been a plateful. But, I’ve been doing it. I’ve been taking time out of each day to meditate on how I feel and that is in essence why I’m writing this post now.
Another reason I’m writing this post is to share the good news. I got back out running this morning, an easy four miles, and it went very well. I think I’m going to be just fine. Will is still gone and Skip is still in a tough spot, and there’s not much I can do about either of those situations, but I’m here right where I’m supposed to be and I can feel it and I will keep feeling it as much and for as long as I can.
Send your prayers and/or mojo out to Skip, his wife Diana and our friend Marty whose going out to California where Skip and Diana live, to help out.

As you close in on running a marathon you have to train your body to reserve glycogen. You do this by having long runs. Start at 16 and every two weeks add a couple of miles until you get to twenty. Do a couple of 20s maybe upto 23 and your set. Of course there are differing opinions on how far and how many but most everyone seems to agree that you need them.

What is glycogen and why do you need it? Don't know. Can't tell you. It has to do with fueling your body over long periods of activity.

What is crumping? Crumping is what I did on my 16 and 18 mile long runs. Crumping is not being able to continue running. If you get five miles from the finish and you have to walk most of the rest of the way in (18 miler), that's crumping. If you get two miles from the finish and have to force yourself to walk in spite of the hopeless feeling that has you considering jumping in front of passing cars as a way to end the run, (16 miler), that's crumping.

If you run 21 miles feeling like a small god, (last Sunday's 21 miler), that's not crumping, that's kicking major ass. Remember, I told you about Perpetuem? The stuff really works. I also paid a lot more attention to keeping my electrolytes up. I tend to drink to much water when I run and that washes out your electrolytes which leaves you feeling like a wet rag hung out to dry in a cold damp basement.

Today my legs are still tired. I ran four miles this morning. I planned to run six, but cut it short when I realized how tired my legs were. I cut the run short because tomorrow I run a half-marathon. Man, I hope my pegs are rested up by then.

Thems be eight minute miles.