The Race...

November 3rd dawns and the 40th running of the New York City Marathon is now behind us. What an extraordinary day! I can honestly say that the Marathon is one of those rare events that not only lives up to its reputation, it actually surpasses all expectations. Having lived in NYC for almost six years, I’ve watched the race several times. Believe it or not, it is much more fun to be a runner than a spectator!

Unfortunately, I don’t have many photos to share, but I do have this one:



A chilly day at the Start Village. It had been raining all night and the ground was unreasonably sodden. The moment I arrived at the MMRF Team tent, I managed to step directly into a quagmire, squirting viscous brown mud all over my shoes. Score one for Mother Nature.

Despite the damp conditions, the mood was jovial. Jovial and steeped in adrenaline. Depending upon where you stood, the Start Village resembled a refugee camp, a country fair or an out-door health and fitness expo sponsored by the UN. At times, it appeared to be all three; the Dunkin Donuts coffee cart parked next to the Porta-Johns surrounded by a group of 40-plus Italian adventure tourists comparing the features on their Garmin GPS devices. I never realized what an international event this race was! There were loudspeakers set up around the staging ground which broadcast instructions in six languages: Japanese, German, Italian, French, Spanish and English. It was like having our own audio-Rosetta Stone. I can now say “The corrals for wave-start two are now open...” in Japanese. How about that?

As with other mass-bonding events, normal rules of social decorum don’t apply at the starting line of the NYC Marathon. You can talk freely to whomever you want! Before we loaded into our start “corral,” I was chatting with a very nice Dutchman named Hans. Apparently the NYC Marathon is huge in the Netherlands. Who knew?

The first two miles of the race lead across the Varazanno Narrows bridge. (Apparently, the longest suspension bridge in the US. Sorry, Golden Gate!) From the moment we cleared the bridge, we were cheered every step of the way by well-wishers. This is not an exaggeration. There were enthusiastic crowds in every neighborhood from Bay Ridge to the South Bronx. Literally, the only times we were not buoyed by cheering crowds were the moments when we were crossing bridges. (Those would be the Verrazano-Narrows, Queensboro, Willis Avenue and Madison Avenue Bridges.)

And can I just say...? New York City, you are beautiful! I’m proud that this event is such an international draw, because in so many ways this race shows us New Yorkers at our very best. In fact, if I were trying to explain the magic of New York to someone who had never visited this city, I could hardly do better than simply saying: “Run in the marathon, then you’ll understand what makes us tick.”

When you run this course you also get such an intimate sense of how the neighborhoods of this city fit together. In some cases the transition from one neighborhood to another is subtle, in other cases it’s abrupt; crossing under a bridge or turning a sharp corner to suddenly find yourself in a new terrain. So many communities with so much history... and remarkably few potholes, actually.

But no matter how inspiring the show of public support or how dazzling the scenery, there’s no getting around the fact that 26.2 miles is a damned long way. It’s true what they say, that the first 13 miles are just a warm up. In the case of this race, mile 13 took the runners through northern Green Point. At this point in the race, I was feeling pretty good. I’d just seen two groups of friends cheering in the neighborhood of Williamsburg, so I was cruising along. The first time that fatigue showed up as my running companion was around mile 16.

An interesting thing happens at mile 16 of the NYC marathon: you pass from Long Island City into Manhattan via the Queensboro Bridge. As I mentioned earlier, this is one of the few stretches of road where there are no crowds. As you enter the span, suddenly everything gets very quiet. All you can hear is the sound of thousands of foot-falls on the deck of the bridge; foot-falls and labored breathing. This was the first point where I noticed significant numbers of runners slowing down to a walk for a brief recovery period. It felt like a collective moment of truth; a drawing-in as the runners contemplated the 10 miles ahead. Then the bridge descends to the Manhattan side of the East River and you begin to hear a remarkable sound. You can hear it from at least a quarter mile away. The roadway suddenly drops away into a tight left-hand turn that almost feels like you’re dropping into a tunnel... and suddenly, there they are! As one of my teammates quipped before the race, this section of the run feels like you’re entering the Olympic Stadium. Thousands of supporters gathered at this hairpin turn and suddenly you’ve joined the Land of the Living once again.

During the long run up First Avenue you begin to see real determination on the faces of the runners. Through miles 17, 18, 19.... At this point, almost nobody is dodging to the side of the road to give high-fives to the kids at the front of the crowd. Poor little guys. I hope they understand: at this stage of the race, it’s a matter of survival - conservation and efficiency.

At the top of Manhattan, we passed into the Bronx. I won’t lie... this is where things got really tough for me. At mile 20 we had just crossed the Willis Ave Bridge and were entering the Bronx. I could actually feel my body shifting into a different mode. I’ve heard that there is a wall at mile 20, but having never experienced it, I really had no frame of reference. On this particular day, there was no “wall” for me at mile 20. A better description would be that my legs began, very quickly, to fill up with cold, aching sand. They became unspeakably heavy and didn’t seem to respond as quickly as they should. Maybe that’s what “the wall” feels like. Feels more like quicksand to me. Here’s a summary of the conversation going on in my head between miles 20 and 21:

Body: This hurts. Let’s stop.
Brain: Nope.
Body: Really. OK. Joke’s over. Let’s stop.
Brain: Sorry, no can do, Amigo.
Body: But this isn’t fun anymore.
Brain: True. Keep going.
Body: Oh look, you’re shoelace is coming undone!
Brain: [looks] No it’s not.
Body: Yes, yes, it is. You’d better stop and tie it!
Brain: I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.

...etc....

We ran on southward through Harlem. At this point, I saw another group of friends, which got my spirits back on track, even though my body was lagging! (Thanks, gang!) Making a broad right-hand turn around Marcus Garvey Park, we continued south. At one point, it must have been around mile 22.5, I couldn’t sustain my pace and slowed to a brisk walk. “How am I going to do this?,” I was asking myself. “This part of the run is supposed to be a celebration! But I don’t want to celebrate. I feel like crap!” At this moment, an older gentleman came out of the crowd, took me by the shoulder and said in an indescribably generous voice, “You’ve got it. The park’s just up ahead.” That encouragement helped get me through the final leg of the race.

Entering Central Park was a blur. Down through the trees and crowds to Central Park South, struggling along to Columbus Circle and then northward again at mile 26. Finally, fatigue disappears for the last quarter mile. Smiles return to the exhausted faces around me. And there it is: the finish line. It’s an emotional moment as you step over the final timing mat at the finish. There’s a physical rush of relief as body and brain, after long argument, finally agree that, yes, at last it’s time to stop.

4:10

Not a very fast time; certainly not as fast as I had hoped. But I finished. And it gives me something to work on for the next race. I’m afraid I might be hooked.

To everybody who has been reading this blog through the long months of training:
Thank you!

To everybody who has supported me in this quixotic endeavor:
Thank you!

To everybody who contributed to the MMRF in memory and celebration:
Thank you!

My intention is to continue this blog, but I’m not exactly sure what form it will take. At the moment, I’m thinking that I’ll continue to use this space as a running journal. I’m planning to experiment with different training techniques in the coming months, so I’ll be sure to share my experiences.

Forward!

Yes, I will run 26.2 miles tomorrow. No, I won't wear a cowbell.

Dearest friends and family,

Well, the moment has finally arrived. After many months of training and anticipation, the running of the 40th NYC Marathon will take place tomorrow. It's been a rainy Halloween; sheets of tepid drizzle driving distraught looking trick-or-treaters back whence they came...

But the weatherpeople assure us that tomorrow will be beautiful.

So, it's on.

Today was extremely busy. I spent most of the day zipping around the City, making sure I'd taken care of all my last minute marathon business. Made a midday trip to the Javitz Convention Center to pick up my number and the place was PACKED. Thousands of runners from all over the world milling about, filling out forms and just generally looking fit. I picked up my number and, if I do say so myself, it's a good one. 23811. Sounds lucky, doesn't it?

After the pick-up, I headed over to Midtown to attend the MMRF Team reception; a nice opportunity to meet the Team and hear some final words of warning/ encouragement. They even had MMRF Team cowbell noise-makers! I didn't take one, because I refuse to run my first marathon wearing a cowbell and, frankly, I don't know any cows.

Marie and I just had a delicious pre-marathon dinner at our favorite Spanish restaurant in the Lower East Side. Under the ruse of needing to stock up on "complex carbohydrates," I talked Marie into splitting a huge plate of paella. It was awesome.

Tomorrow morning will come early. We're expected to meet the Team bus at Central Park South at 5:30 AM for a prompt 6 AM departure. Don't want to be too late to get on that bus. That would be a truly stupid reason to miss the marathon. Tomorrow afternoon I expect to be able to write again, giving as detailed an account of the race as my haggard body will let me write. Maybe it will have to be Monday....

Thanks again to everyone for your wonderful support and encouragement. Without your kindness and generosity, this would not be happening.

Forward!

Runnin' in the trees - Don't worry! It's not Sasquatch. It's just me.

Well, I’m afraid time has gotten away from me! Several of you have helpfully pointed out that I’ve not posted an update in QUITE awhile. Yes, it’s true and I apologize. Life has become exceptionally busy in the last two months. Part of the problem is this: I’m now officially a graduate school recidivist. As a consequence, I’ve spent much of the the past two months up to my knees in social science treatises. Good times! That doesn’t mean that I haven’t been training, however. With two weeks before race-day, I’m pleased to report that we are on track!

Marie and I just returned from a short trip up to New Hampshire. While there, I was able to log an EXTRAORDINARILY beautiful 8 miler. For those of you who haven’t been to NH, you really must go! It’s full of some of the most beautiful views and most friendly people you can imagine. Being several hundred miles north of New York, the temperature in late October is pretty chilly up there. As you can see from the images, the foliage is in its full autumnal glory. I did run in shorts, but was extremely glad to have my gloves and long-sleeved jersey. In fact, I wish I’d had a hat!

On a side note, tomorrow the MMRF Marathon Team is doing its first group run. We’ll be running the final 10 miles of the marathon route with our Team Coach, Tom Holland. I’m looking forward to finally meeting my team-mates. The only bad news is that the weather is going to be miserable. By “miserable” I mean, 45 degrees and raining - hard. So, this will be a good opportunity to test our team mettle! Nobody said it was going to be easy, right? I’ll let you know how it goes.

Forward!

Beautiful San Francisco!

Posting for 8/31/09

Last weekend I was in the San Francisco Bay Area for a family event; a somber occasion, but one which has reinforced my commitment to this marathon project. While in San Francisco, I completed a 16 mile training loop that took me through a few of my favorite SF locations.

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Distance: 16.01 miles

Duration: 2:04’42”

Pace: 7’47”

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Beginning at Fort Mason, I ran through Crissy Field to the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge, across the Bridge and back, along the coast to Baker Beach and through the Richmond District to Golden Gate Park, back through the Park to the Marina. You can get a pretty good overview of the route from searching Google Maps for "The Presidio, SF"

What a relief to complete a long run away from the sweltering humidity of New York! I suppose SF is humid, too... just in a different way. I guess we call it “fog” out West. And far from being too hot, I was actually chilly for the first 10 mins of the run. Not surprisingly, the wind is pretty stiff at mid-span of the Bridge, but after warming up down along the water, the drop in temperature was bearable. Notice: it only look SLIGHTLY freezing.

This is one of the most beautiful long runs I’ve done yet; I had almost forgotten the exceptional beauty of the SF coastline. It’s hard to believe that you’re in an urban area when you see views like the one below. This run involved some serious hill-work, as well. If you look closely, you’ll see this marvelous wooden boardwalk continues down into the ravine (near) and then ascends up the hill to the next ridge-line (far).

After 16 miles, the relatively flat final stretch along the Marina was a welcome sight!

A few words about temperature and hydration: running in cooler temperatures reminds me how profoundly external conditions can affect performance. While my overall pace for this run was not appreciably faster than earlier long runs, it was in many ways a much easier run. At mile 7.5 I stopped for a bottle of water. I’m experimenting with hydration techniques, here. All the literature I’ve read about endurance running stresses the importance of consuming fluids during long runs of this type. And I have to admit: they’re absolutely right. While it’s tough to pause a run long enough to drink 16 oz of water, the feeling of rejuvenation is immediate.

I’m actually considering buying a hydration belt. These things are so beyond goofy looking, it’s true. Almost unforgivable. But I have a feeling it will help me out.... I may have to swallow my pride and get one. I’ll let you know how that goes, and whether or not the “cool runners” kick sand in my face.

Forward!

The Rocket and The Ocean

Warning: may contain potentially irritating metaphysical content.

Breakthrough!

Last night I finished a 6 mile run with an average pace of 6’50”/ mile. This isn’t an earth-shattering pace, but it’s a personal best for a 5+ mile run:

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Distance: 6.01 miles

Duration: 41’11”

Pace: 6’50” / mile

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One of the advantages of setting aside a certain amount of time each day for training is that it allows one time to think (for better or worse.) So, I hope you’ll indulge me if I get a little philosophical in this entry. There are a few things that have been rattling around in my brain during my past few runs. The thoughts I’ve been mulling over are intimately connected to both the qualities required for endurance training, as well as those required to support a loved one during illness. Or, indeed, those required to endure one’s own illness. So, bear with me.

I’ve become mildly obsessed with the Apollo space program. The recent fortieth anniversary of Apollo 11 and my coincidental reading of a fantastic book by Alan Shepherd and Deke Slayton called “Moon Shot” has me pondering the nature of courage. What kind of courage does it take to climb atop a three hundred sixty foot rocket bound for another planet? What kind of courage does it take to face imminent death and persist? In a sense, I suppose, we’re all in this position from the moment we’re born, but choose not to think about it too much most of the time. The universal nature of mortality and our engagement with the concept (or lack there of) leads to other questions.

What kind of courage does it take to face an illness?

What kind of courage does it take to attempt the impossible?

What kind of courage does it take to die a good death?

In my experience, there is a direct relationship between strength and courage. One can have strength without courage, but not (I think) courage without strength. For this reason, if we are to be courageous in our lives, we must understand the nature of our own strength and how best to apply our energies.

Too often our culture glorifies one specific type of strength to the detriment of others; strength without proper direction or perspective. We glorify the strength of the explosion, the strength of warfare, the rocket, the monster-truck. This kind of strength:

The power of an eight hundred foot jet of fire pushing a rocket through the stratosphere at the speed of a rifle bullet. While this kind of energetic application of will-power certainly has its place, I think we’ve lost sight of the big picture.

One alternate mode of strength is one that allows for sustained effort over time, with a proper and intelligent application of energies. It is less exciting, but in the end it will overcome any obstacle. I’d like to propose that this basic dichotomy can be understood as “Rocket” versus “Ocean.” The Rocket blasts and rages and spews fire and “gets the job done, dammit!” The ocean endures and persists and, over time, has the strength to wear down entire mountain ranges and to change the face of the planet.

What are we missing by placing so much faith in the Rocket; this aggressive, explosive mode of facing adversity? I believe we miss the power and utility inherent in endurance and perseverance. The grandeur of an exploding firework shell may be impressive and even awesome, but it doesn’t have much staying power. We too often lose sight of the fact that many of the most difficult events in our lives are are not immediate crises in which a sudden burst of willpower will get us through, but rather circumstances in which we must call upon deep reserves of strength; reserves we may not even be aware of. So what happens when we bring the Rocket to bear on a situation that requires the Ocean?

What happens when we bring the sprinters approach to a marathon?

What happens when we bring the energy of high-explosives to the bedside of a sick loved one; or indeed to our own deathbed?

I contend that such misapplications happen all the time and the results are disastrous. When we are unable to “fix” a given situation through a blast of effort, we will inevitably feel that we have failed and we retreat into emotional isolation. We become exhausted and confused. We lose our ability to help those around us in any meaningful way.

I propose that we temper our obsession with “power” with a healthy respect for the Ocean; for endurance contains within it many invaluable qualities - humility, forbearance, tolerance, perspective, contemplativeness, determination, fidelity. I propose that we learn to glorify endurance as a quality fundamental to a fulfilling life and a good death.

A Special Five Year Anniversary... and a very long run

8/22/09

Completed a half marathon distance today!

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Distance: 13.18 miles

Duration: 1:41' 55"

Pace: 7' 43" / mile

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This the longest training run I've done yet. As it happens, today is also a very special anniversary. Today, August 22, 2009 marks five years since my mother's passing. Fortunately, these long runs offer an excellent opportunity for reflection and contemplation.

Obviously, today was a chance to consider my mother's life and the turbulent five years that have passed since her departure.

Though my mom is no longer with us physically, I know that those of us who loved her feel her presence daily. As her son, I am very lucky; lucky to have been loved and shaped by such an extraordinary woman.

She was always awake, alive, striving and giving of herself to others. My deepest hope is that I will be able to, in some small way, carry on her legacy of determination, integrity, fearlessness and compassion.

That would be a most fitting tribute to my mom.

International Installment: Part Trois

Post for 8/11/09

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Distance: 5.54 miles

Duration: 42' 19"

Pace: 7'38"/ mile

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I hit the trail runner’s jackpot today! Another session of exploration along the coast yielded the best loop yet. If the Tour du Golf heads northeast away from the Village of St. Briac, then the trail through the nature preserve of La Garde Guerin runs in exactly the opposite direction, towards the town of St. Lunaire.

Watch out for the nettles.

This is one of the most satisfying train runs I’ve had since Annadale back in July. Mostly single-track, this path is almost exactly 2.5 miles from start to finish; making for a very convenient 5 mile loop. The scenery is astonishing, in part because the trail makes a steep ascent along a bluff that looks out over the Channel. The ascent is steep and it’s just long enough to get a nice burn going in the quads. Long enough to put a dent in your pace, but not quite long enough to break your spirit. Just at the top of the climb, there’s an old gun emplacement of some kind. I didn’t see any signage explaining the history of the place.

Maybe it's a strategic defensive position against the invasion of sun-burned English tourists. I'll have to ask a local.

An astonishing view at the top leads the way over the ridge to a steady, but not precipitous, drop on the other side, which brings you down to a wide beach full of unsuspecting bathers. There’s a wide paved causeway between the beach and the road which is home to a little seaside bar, what appear to be trampolines-for-hire and (most incongruously) a circus at the far side. Don’t ask me what it’s doing there, because I have absolutely no idea. I have to admit, I felt a little gauche bursting through all these well-tanned vacationers with their enormous sun glasses and chilled bottles of Heineken, but I was pleased to see that I wasn’t the only runner. The Fellowship of the Sweaty is truly international.

On the way back, I tried dropping down to the beach to run on the firm sand. This surface is much easier on the joints, but the amount of effort it takes to slog through the dry sand makes it more trouble than it’s worth. Next time, I’ll stay on the pavement.

International Installment: Part Deux

Post for 8/8/09

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Distance: 8.48 miles

Duration: 1:05'35"

Pace: 7'43"/ mile

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I went exploring today to see if I could piece together a longer run. It seems a shame to keep doing the same four mile route when there must be other beautiful spots to train. The trouble is that most of the main roads between villages don’t have sidewalks. There’s usually a three or four foot grassy margin between the edge of the pavement and the hedgerow, but the surface is uneven and I would hate to twist an ankle eleven weeks before race day. That would be a stupid reason to miss the marathon. An even worse fate would be to get squished by some guy driving a Renault Twingo who’s not paying attention to the road!

So, I headed away from the house and towards the sea... and I got lucky! Yesterday I saw, from the bedroom window, a man running along a track between the ocean and the golf course just behind the house. He must have been about a half mile away, so I couldn’t see what trail he was following, or how he got there. But seeing that there must be a trail of some kind along the water, I decided to try and find my way down. Lo and behold!

This trail is called the Tour du Golf and it consists of a gently rolling 1.5 mile path that connects the residential areas of Saint Briac with the beaches. Each beach is connected to the Tour by a steep, rocky little descending path, along which families with their dogs and inflatable beach toys struggle down to the water. The only disadvantage to running on the Tour seems to be the amount of foot traffic. That and the fact that the loop is only 1.5 miles long. I can connect this loop with my 4 miler from earlier and build a respectable distance, but I’ll have to figure out when the foot traffic along the Tour is least dense.

Such beautiful country!

International Installment, Part Un

Post for 8/7/09

On the advice of my team of internationally renowned endurance training coaches, I’ve decided to spend two weeks at the Breton Center for the Study of High Altitude Physiology and Athletic Training (BCSHAPAT) in the picturesque village of Saint Briac Sur Mere (elevation 23.67 feet). In an effort to throw off the competition, I’ve decided to make this trip under cover of “going on vacation.” Thus far, my rigorous schedule has consisted of sitting on the beach (to counter vitamin D deficiency), riding around on boats (for improved equilibrium), fishing (honing the “killer instinct”) and attempting to impress my hosts with my rather lame command of the French language. On the advice of local experts, I’ve also developed a strict dietary regimen to maximize the impact of my training. This includes: seafood of all types, amazing baguettes with that perfect crunchy crust, immodest amounts of fatty cheese, red wine (to improve carbohydrate uptake efficiency) and a beverage locally known as “Tiponche”, which consists of rum, cane sugar, lime and nothing else. Generally served with a smile and a knowing look that says, “Be careful, American!”

And it’s hard to imagine a more beautiful setting for running. The days have been sunny or slightly overcast with high temperatures in the mid 70s. Generally, there’s a steady breeze and the sea air is enormously refreshing. It’s funny. I often think about the effects of NYC pollution on my running, but I don’t really FEEL the pollution until I leave it behind. It’s also nice to run in low humidity with cooler temperatures.

On our second day here, Marie’s dad, Benoit, took us by car to survey a potential four mile loop. The route follows along the seawall from just outside of town, along the main road leading out of town to the west, across a long bridge and into the next village. The halfway point is a boat ramp that leads directly into the water. (At left.) So. Beautiful.

There do seem to be quite a few runners here, but most of them don’t seem to be enjoying it much. For many, it looks like they’re doing penance of some kind; pounding out a few miles to make up for some transgression. With this weather and this scenery, it’s hard to imagine not loving your daily run!

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Distance: 4.33 miles

Duration: 32' 11"

Pace: 7' 25"

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A Damp 10 Miles

Post for 8/2/09

Ten miles today. And it was hot. Brutal.

This summer the weather in NYC has been strange, to say the least. I suppose we’re lucky in a way. It hasn’t been as hot as it usually is in August, but we’ve had tons of rain.

This dampens the motivation for outdoor training. In addition, it creates lakes where lakes there should not be. I’ve come across unexpected bodies of water on both my standard 4/5 mile route along the East River and, most recently, came across entire paths in Central Park that have been closed due to flooding. (See photo at left.)

It’s almost enough to make you want to do your civic duty by donning a pair of municipal waders and climbing down there to muck out the drains. Almost. Anyway, I sure hope NYC uses some of the much touted “stimulus funding” to fix the sewers. If this summer is any indication, we’re really going to be in trouble when the polar ice caps melt.

The sun did finally come out, though... There are moments when this City can stun you with her beauty. An unexpected vista can leap up and bite you like a stray dog. The very best kind of biting stray dog.

By the way, I’ve come to love the community of crazy New York City runners. To be clear, I’ve never spoken to anybody running in the Park, but I do see the same faces over and over. There seems to be a core of dedicated endurance runners that flock to Central Park on Sunday for training and they come in all shapes and sizes. That’s one of the beauties of running: it is all about function. It doesn’t matter what body type you’ve got, if you have the motivation to put one foot in front of the other for extended periods of time, then you have the raw materials for endurance training. There’s a guy I see on Sunday, usually along “Heartbreak Hill” up at the northern edge of the park. He runs with, what appears to be, a fully loaded weight vest. Not just a belt, mind you; an entire vest. My hat is off to this cat, even if I think he’s totally insane.

I find one of the best motivators to push myself is to run in the company of people who are vastly more fit than myself. There’s one guy to whom I owe special thanks to in this regard. Again, this is a man I know only by sight. And he’s hard to miss. He’s probably 6’5” and he runs wearing nothing but a pair of Nikes, teeny tiny 70’s-style running shorts and a very short mohawk. Nothing ostentatious, mind you. Just a close-cropped, self-respecting hipster mohawk. On a normal Sunday, I’ll be hard-driving at a 7’30”/ mile pace, or something similar, and Mohawk just breezes past me. He must be doing a 6’00”/ mile at least. Probably faster. I made the mistake of trying to match his pace once... at a discreet distance, of course. I lasted about three quarters of a mile before I had to concede: This guy’s got mad VDOT. (More on this later...)

But I did log my ten, and for this Sunday, my modest 7’ 48”/ mile is going to have to suffice.

I wonder if there’s a relation between “runner’s high” and the “nitrogen narcosis” experienced by divers. This picture makes me think there is:

Ten miles of dusty trail...

I've been a bit out of the loop this week, since I've been traveling for work. The good news is that the weather and terrain of Northern California are highly conducive to outdoor training, so I've been able to stick to my training schedule... for the most part.

This past week's runs have been pretty standard stuff; general base-phase jaunts of between 4 and 6 miles. Very pleasant and not too taxing. The only run of note during the past week was my 10 mile effort last Sunday (7.19.09). Here's what it looked like:




Funny what heat can do to a man's brain.
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Time: 1: 18' 46"
Pace: 7:47 min/ mile
Distance: 10.11 miles
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For this run, I went around Spring Lake, then on up into Annadale State Park... and when I say "up into Annadale" I do mean UP. This was the most significant hill work I've done yet. For those who aren't familiar with Annadale, I should explain that it's a fantastically beautiful and surprisingly rugged state preserve on the east side of suburban Santa Rosa, CA. I used to spend a lot of time up there when I lived in the North Bay and I still find it hard to believe that there could be anything so wild that close to SR's eastern edge. It's a haven for local hikers and mountain bikers, though I now understand why I've never seen too many runners on the trail. Oy! Annadale offers a range of trail types; from wide, even bridle paths, to terrifying single-tracks riddled with ankle-turning stones and sunbathing reptiles. A genuine, arid Northern California summer landscape.

The ascent was an object lesson in the value of willpower. Willpower and proper hydration. After a long, hot, dusty climb along a ridge-line, I treated myself to a brief swim in the murky waters of Lake Ilsanjo, followed by a punishing singletrack descent. This trail is serious mountain goat material; scenic but nerve wracking.
(Thanks to www.parks.sonoma.net/ for the photo of the Lake!)

All things considered, a joyous workout! Running in such a beautiful spot helps me remember to keep my head up and my eyes open, regardless of how painful a run might be. When I watch my fellow runners I all too often see them withdrawn into themselves. The internal struggle of the run seems to consume all of their attention, blocking out their surroundings. But this is counter-productive, since extending one's attention beyond the discomfort of the moment can be a wellspring of inspiration.

Obviously, this principle applies to life in general. It seems to me that 90% of intelligence consists of just being awake to (and curious about) the world around us.

So let's run and live with our eyes open.

Forward!

The LA Marathon

Had a couple of great runs this weekend; both in Central Park. The weather has finally turned in NYC and it looks like we're going to have a proper summertime, after all. It was warm, partly cloudy and slightly breezy; ideal weather for a run under the foliage with 20,000 or so of my closest friends. (Yes, Central Park does get crowded, but we're all one big happy family.)

Saturday, July 11

distance: 5.21 miles

time: 37:12

pace: 7:08/ mile

Sunday, July 12

distance: 6.04

time: 45:39

pace: 7:33/ mile

It's amazing what a positive effect taking a day off can have on your pace! I took Friday off and it seems to have helped me out on Saturday. Of course, on Sunday I'm back to my usual pace. Grr. Anyway, it's interesting to consider that the main difference between Saturday's 7:08 mile and Sunday's 7:33 mile was fatigue. It could also be temperature, I suppose, but I'm certain it's not the minimal difference in mileage; though as a general rule the higher the mileage, the slower the per mile pace. This stands to reason, since in most cases your body will endure a faster pace for a shorter duration.

Speaking of which, I had the opportunity to travel to Los Angeles recently for business. As luck would have it, I was in town for the running of the Los Angeles Marathon. Not only was I "in town", but the race happened to begin more or less under hotel window. So, being an eager marathoner-in-training, I dutifully got up early and made my way, cup of coffee in hand, to the edge of the crowd of spectators for the 7:20 AM start. (For some reason my cell phone only takes pictures that have a dreamy "gauze over the lens" look.)

The start of the race was exhilarating, as might be expected. The sound of 17,307 pairs of feet charging off down the tarmac was accompanied by the rhythmic din of Taiko Dojo drumming; the drummers having set directly adjacent to my beloved Holiday Inn. It was all very stirring.

Now, fast forward six hours...

The finish for the LA Marathon is more or less in exactly the same spot as the start. So, as I made my way back from a long morning in the Convention Hall, I once again crossed the marathon route. To my surprise, runners were still passing in throngs.... but these runners had already completed 26 miles of their 26.2 mile odyssey. And let me tell you: while the start of a marathon may be an inspiration, the finish of a marathon is a cautionary tale! There were blood, sweat and tears. There were blisters. There was sheer determination. Perhaps, it was inspiring in a different way. My hat is off to every single individual who crossed that finish line in Downtown LA.

Witnessing that race reinforced my determination to be as prepared as possible for NYC.

If you're interested in reading the official account of the proceedings, there's a nice press release here.

By the way, the gentleman who won the LA Marathon this year, Wesley Korir, completed the race with a time of 2:08:24. This is not only an amazing time.

It's an mind-blowing, ridiculous, practically-impossible time. But he managed it...

Forward!

Keeping it interesting...

Good run today....

Planned on doing five miles and ended closer to six. Believe it or not, it's getting easier. And more fun. There is so much joy in movement! When everything's working and your feet feel light, everything is right with the world.

I suppose the runner's high is real.

I'm pleased with my increased pace. There's a gadget at the right side of the page that shows the details of my last five runs. It may seem overly self-conscious to track these things, but keeping an eye on your pace per mile, as well as time and distance, is a marvelous motivator.

And by the way, New York City is stunning in the summertime. This evening is as perfect for running as you can imagine; temperature in the low 60's, clear sunshine and a steady breeze from the northwest. I ran along the East River, past the old guys with their fishing rods and the kids on skateboards. If you've never been to NYC, it's difficult to imagine the diversity of scenery we enjoy in such a small area.

The route that I've come to think of as the "East River South" can be run as a 4, 5 or 6 mile loop. It begins at my apartment and goes directly east (past the projects, the police station and a series of not-so-scenic autobody shops) to the East River. Crossing over the FDR Drive, I turn south and run along the recreation area... which is really just a few synthetic turf baseball fields and a lot of construction equipment. But we're getting there. Someday this will be a fantastic park.... maybe one day we'll even rival the West Side. ("When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way...") Eventually, I end up running past the massive tourist trap that is South Street Seaport. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I like South Street. The boats are cool.

But this brings me to a running challenge I wasn't expecting - finding good routes and keeping it interesting! In preparation for my 16 week training program, I've been setting down a base of between 19 and 31 miles per week. Nothing too crazy. But it does require four or five days per week in running shoes, logging between 4 and 10 miles per outing. I've quickly learned that mustering that extra motivation required to get out the door for my daily run (especially in poor weather) can be difficult. But having an interesting route helps.

Fortunately, NYC is not short of good scenery or interesting loops that keep the runner's brain engaged. In addition to my old standby (detailed above), I've been exploring to find runs that don't require dodging cars or ingesting too much exhaust. I've come up with a few favorites, some of which I'll share with you in subsequent posts. The best (the VERY best) runs I've found are in Central Park, the Crown Jewel of New York City! The map above is the one I originally used to figure out my earliest four, five and six mile routes. (Thanks to the NYC Flyers for the map.)

More details to come....

Welcome to my training blog!

Hello hello!

First of all: welcome and thank you for your interest in my quixotic quest to complete the 2009 NYC Marathon. I am glad to have you along for this journey.

Now, a confession: I have never run a marathon.

I've been running non-competitively since I was about eighteen, but never before have I had the desire to train for such a race. Actually, it's always seemed like a fairly bizarre thing to do. Especially considering the fact that the poor soul who completed the first "Marathon" promptly dropped dead once he reached his destination. Don't believe me? Well, I read it on Wikipedia, so it must be true! (Did you know the Greeks defeated the Persians at the battle of Marathon? Well, neither did I; but hopefully I won't croak when I cross the finish line. I'm certain the New York City Road Runners frown on that sort of thing.)

Truth be told, I'm a confirmed skeptic of the whole phenomenon of "extreme sports". (That would better be written in caps with multiple exclamation points: EXTREME SPORTS!!) Something about the whole fad strikes me as symptomatic of a culture in decline. Ancient Rome, anyone? That said, endurance running has certainly gotten its hooks into me. No doubt about it.

Apparently, I'm not alone. What are to make of the fact that the number of individuals who complete marathons each year has increased steadily since the turn of the century; from 299,000 finishers nationally in 2000 to 382,000 in 2005? (Source: The Marathon Method by Tom Holland, citing www.marathonguide.com) Is it some sort of gender-neutral, yet fundamentally macho addiction to endorphins? Is it bragging rights? Or could it be that so many people have found that endurance running offers a profound form of moving meditation; an opportunity to celebrate what the human body was built to do.

In this blog I will be giving some information about the specifics of the training schedule that I will be following, but hopefully not so much detail as to bore you, Dear Reader. For those of you who wish to follow along at home, I will be using the "Intermediate Marathon Plan" from the aforementioned The Marathon Method by Tom Holland; an enormously encouraging and accessible primmer on the art of the 16 week marathon training program.

Of course, these introductory remarks would be incomplete if I did not acknowledge the deeper reason that I will be running the NYC Marathon. If you have found this page, then you probably already know that I will be running as a member of the Multiple Myleoma Research Foundation Team. The MMRF is the largest private foundation dedicated to finding a cure for multiple myeloma. My mother, Anne Linford, was diagnosed with MM in 2000 and passed away in 2004.

I do this run for her.

With every step of every run I carry her in my heart. With every kilometer I log toward this goal, I also celebrate my Uncle Bob. I hope, in some small way, to help in the struggle against MM...

...and may we all be mindful that every moment in a healthy body is a blessing and a celebration.

If you'd like to make a donation for the run, here's the link:
http://www.active.com/donate/2009NYCMarathon/TeamLinford

Thanks again for joining me on this journey.

Forward!