The Jaunting Journalist

And the Oscar Goes to...

2012-02-12T15:33:00.001-08:00

When I am not running, working or walking to points near and far in Manhattan, I am actually a pretty lazy person. I am happy spending hours on end (if such time becomes available) sitting on the couch and either reading a book, watching hours of DVRed television, or watching a movie. I also spend more time playing Words With Friends than I care to calculate, lest it depress me.

This year, I challenged myself to do something I hadn't done before. When I say challenge, I hope that doesn't conjure up images of climbing Mount Everest or doing 500 push ups a day. This challenge was far less physically-taxing. My goal was to watch all the movies nominated for the Academy Awards Best Picture.

With the aid of the movie studios which sent me several screener copies of the likely nominees (because I am a member of the Writers Guild of America), I completed my goal this afternoon. I am having a tough time picking my favorite movie, so I am going to break this year's nine nominees into four categories: Loved it, Liked it, Disappointed, Hated it.

Loved It:

The Help -- Lauren points out that I love a story more than anything. It trumps cinematography, acting, sound effects, etc. Of all the movies nominated this year, this one was my favorite story. It had lovable characters, and from what I know about American history, was an accurate depiction of life in the deep south prior to the Civil Rights movement. Besides loving a good story, one of my favorite genres is historical fiction and of the three movies on the list of nominees that fit that genre, this one was the best one. Yes, it does have a fairly predictable happy ending where everything works out for the good guys and goes to hell in a hand basket for the bad guys, but who said that was a bad thing? I have not read the book that this movie is an adaptation of, but I am told it sticks to the story. The Help lets you experience the gamut of emotions from laughter, to anger to tears.

Hugo -- Martin Scorcese's fantasy about a child machinist and a former filmmaker who cross paths in a Paris train station is the most complete of this year's nominees. It's a beautiful story, with amazing imagery and wonderful acting. I'm not quite sure how Ben Kingsley was not nominated for his role. When this movie came out, I had no interest in seeing it. Nothing about a children's movie in 3-D appeals to me on the surface. However, I cannot stress how wrong I was. This movie was meant to be see on the big screen. Scorcese does not use 3-D to have things pop out of the screen and startle the audience, but instead uses it to bring the audience into the film. When old books open, you can see the dust particles. When papers fall, they appear to be scattering around you as you sit in the theater. What's truly great about this movie is that much of the storyline revolves around a real-life pre-World War II filmmaker who brought magic to early cinema. The movie tells his story by reminding you how magic the movies can be.

The Artist -- This was the last of the nominees I saw and it was the one I almost didn't see. I can tell you I am glad I did. This is a silent film about the fall of silent films and therefore, the superstars affiliated with them. As a movie with dialogue, it would be nothing special. But, as a silent film complete with an orchestral arrangement and fullscreen text of important conversations, it is captivating and brilliant. It is amazing how much you can learn about a movie character through their facial expressions, actions and body language. Berenice Bejo as Peppy Miller was my favorite character in any of this year's films this year and is deserving of the Oscar for Best Actress even though she wasn't nominated (note: there are many best actress nominees whose performances I didn't see). But forget Bejo, the runaway performance in The Artist is the performance of Uggie, who plays the unnamed dog and a central part of the plot. The Artist really is a fun movie with some very serious moments and an ending that is sure to bring a smile. I should point out that it is not a truly silent film. There are two moments where talking is heard, and they are very poignant.

Liked it:

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close -- This movie was incredibly close to being in the above category. But, as I was putting this list together, I forgot about it completely, and I don't think it's possible to forget about a movie that I loved. Then, I started to focus on its flaws. Sure, this tale of a boy who lost his father on 9/11 is very moving. I shed a few tears. But, looking back on it, I wonder how much of that is because 9/11 wasn't that long ago. It's still a very fresh memory for most people. In fact, several people I know here in New York won't see this movie because it is too soon. Again, I liked this movie and the performance of the very young Thomas Horn is awesome. However, it was a bit of a stretch to believe an 11-year-old child was free to wander around New York City on his own. And his task, which I won't reveal, seems like an impossible one to accomplish in a city of eight million people.

The Descendants -- Life in Hawaii isn't all surfing and sunbathing. There are real Americans living there, doing real work and dealing with real problems. This movie is about some of those people. It's unique because it is the first movie I have seen set in Hawaii that isn't about how awesome and tropical Hawaii is. In fact, life is pretty crappy for the family this movie centers around. And that is why The Descendants is on the like list and not the love list. It's kind of depressing. What I loved about it was the cast. It has the best ensemble of all the nominees. George Clooney is great as always and Shailene Woodley does a great job of playing a role that can be tired and cliche, the rebellious teenaged daughter. But the most moving scene in this movie is delivered by Judy Greer, who angrily confronts a comatose adulterer.

Moneyball -- How do you turn a book about the economics of baseball into a movie worth watching? Moneyball is how. While it won't go down as one of the classic, motivational sports movies like Rudy or Hoosiers it is a great underdog story. Brad Pitt has solidified himself as one of the best actors of this generation and should probably win the Oscar for playing Billy Beane, the General Manager of the Oakland Athletics, who with the help of a recent Yale graduate, changes the way winning baseball teams are assembled. You don't have to like or care about baseball to enjoy this movie, which was itself an underdog and almost never got made. I am glad it did.

Disappointed

Midnight in Paris -- I realize I am in the minority on this one. Most people I know loved this movie. I didn't hate it. I just felt like it could have been better. Woody Allen tries to accomplish a lot in a little bit of time with this romantic comedy about a man (Owen Wilson) who falls in love with Paris on a trip there with his insufferable fiance (Rachel McAdams). Why does he fall in love with Paris? Because at the stroke of midnight each night, he is whisked away to the time of Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald, his literary heroes, and is able to pick their brains and even get their advice on his own novel. That's a cute story, but if I am to believe that Owen Wilson is an intelligent, aspiring writer, I can't understand how he so quickly accepts the fact that he is essentially stepping into a time machine each night and going back in time. I am not suggesting there be some long, drawn out period of doubt. But, there is no period of doubt at all. I also have trouble believing that a character so lovable as Wilson's is engaged to McAdam's character. She plays a woman so materialistic and mean that no one would an ounce of self-respect would want to spend the rest of their life with her. I also thought the final romantic twist was a stretch as the character involved barely makes an appearance in the movie before becoming the new love interest that provides the happy ending.

Hated it:

War Horse -- The special effects in this movie are trademark Spielberg. They are incredible. Other than that, War Horse is a real snooze. It's about a horse that is whisked away from a teenaged farm boy to be part of the British war effort in World War I. Through a series of events, he ends up back with the boy, now a grown man. But the only character you have time to connect with throughout this two-plus hour movie is the horse, which makes it hard to be too excited when he ends up back with the boy that you haven't seen in 90 minutes. I guess the reason Spielberg didn't use any known actors in this movie is because there were no real characters.

Tree of Life -- Terrence Mallick wants you know that he is smarter and more creative than you. He does it by making a movie that is so bizarre and off-the-wall that you almost need to be him to get it. Even Sean Penn, who is in the movie, was disappointed in the final product. It's a non-linear "story" about a middle-American family in the 1950s that experiences a loss. You never find out just how or why that loss happened. But, you do get to spend 15 minutes watching Mallick's interpretation of how the Earth was formed and how dinosaurs became extinct. This is really a self-righteous waste of time and if I can prevent just one person from watching it, I will at least feel somewhat like my having to sit through it was justified.

So, what wins Best Picture? I didn't actually know what my answer was going to be when I started writing this, but I think the Oscar goes to Hugo. I enjoyed the story of "The Help", more, but Hugo is the most-complete movie in this year's crop.

Alas an update.

2012-02-07T05:45:00.001-08:00

I have been running a lot. I have been working a lot. I have been sleeping a little. While the imbalance has not seemed to impact my performance as a runner, it has seemed to cause some cognitive decline. Last night, I got home from an 11.5 mile jaunt through Central Park, said hello to Pepper, set the convection oven to preheat and went to the basement to fetch some frozen chicken and edamame for dinner. I forgot that the door to the basement locks behind you and if you let it latch, you are locked in. Thankfully, I had my phone, and I was able to text Lauren. She contacted a friend in the building who came to retrieve me about 15 minutes later.

As I re-entered my apartment, tail between my legs, I noticed it smelled of bananas foster. That’s when I remembered that we have been keeping our bananas in the convection oven during the day so they are out of reach of the potassium-seeking mouse that roams our building. A bunch of roasted bananas serves no purpose. It appears 3-5 hours of sleep a night is enough to get me through 11 miles or more, but it is not enough to be successfully domestic.

Things should settle down soon. Some staffing challenges at work, coupled with a Giants Super Bowl win have created a lot of opportunities for extra assignments. I am looking forward to working a Monday-Friday day shift for the next couple of weeks.

Since my last update, there has been a lot of excitement. I won’t recap it all because that ship has sailed.

Most notably, Lauren and I enjoyed a fantastic honeymoon in Belize. If you are looking for the perfect balance of paradise and adventure, this is the place for you. We divided our time between the mountains and the beach and could not have asked for or imagined a more beautiful setting. It was exactly what both of us needed; time with each other and just each other. Good wine, good food, good weather and the best company. Pure, uninterrupted bliss. You don’t get a lot of that when you live in Manhattan and work opposite schedules.

Also very notable, Lauren and I traveled to Baltimore to attend the Baptism of our Goddaughter, Stella. It was a quick trip for me, going down and back in the same day, but worth every second. It was a beautiful experience and I was honored to be there on such a special day.

And regrettably notable, we experienced a little scare with Pepper. As she waited for me to get soup from a Vietnamese place last month, something spooked her and she ran into traffic. This was extremely uncharacteristic of her. I didn't see what happened, but it appears she was clipped by a car. We are blessed that the injury to her hind leg was not severe and she seems to be almost back to her old-self. Her confidence is not 100% and every once and a while she walks with a limp, but the vet has assured us she will be fine. I, on the other hand, will never get back the ten years that was shaved off my life as the whole thing transpired.

Fast forward to the recent past. I’m waist-deep into Boston training and at this point, firing on all cylinders. I’m averaging 80-85 miles a week and building. Key workouts have included a 20 mile run in a driving snow/ice storm, 1200 repeats at 3:37 pace, 18 miles with the last 6 miles at 5:40 pace, a four mile tempo at 5:30 pace and finally, the first race of the 2012 season this past weekend.

I was glad the Gridiron Classic 4 Miler was on Sunday. It allowed me to cheer for Lauren in her race Saturday morning. (She did great by the way, finishing 3^rd in her age group on a very hilly course!) Oddly enough, despite having living here 8 months, this was my first race entirely in Central Park. I have logged hundreds, maybe even thousands of miles there, but I have yet to experience it as a race course. I was initiated quickly. The gun went off and we went straight up a hill (Cat Hill, for those of you familiar with the terrain). I tucked into the lead pack, staying in close proximity with a Central Park Track Club runner I knew was in my wheelhouse.

The top five, headed by a NYAC runner and some WSX foreign recruits, opened up a gap and it was just me and the CPTC guy swapping wind-blocking duties as we crossed the first mile in 5:12; not bad for climbing. The wind-blocking was of great importance during this race, as my face felt frozen almost as soon as we started running fast. By mile two, we had picked it up a little and were given a slight reprieve on the hills , going through in 5:09.

But the race was made on mile three, and this is where I learned how punishing Central Park could be. The entire mile was an uphill climb and even though I caught and passed one of the WSX runners, I allowed myself to lose some ground. When I got to the mile marker and saw I had clocked a 5:20, I did some quick math and knew I had to recover if I wanted to dip under 21:00 for the race. With heavy legs, I found that extra gear and gunned for the finish. I was on pace as I hit the cruel last 200 meters, an uphill climb to Tavern on the Green. Thinking, “no guts no glory”, I took the hill at top speed and went through the last mile in 5:08, crossing the line in 20:53, 7^th place overall.

This was the first time I have raced the four-mile distance since March of 2010 and it’s a 15 second PR on a course that is considerably more difficult that the Shamrock 4 Mile course, and slightly tougher than the Run for Your Life 4 Mile course, both in Charlotte. But, since no race is perfect, I did find some “items to work on.” Most importantly, although I was pretty spent after the race, I felt like there was a little left in the tank. In a race situation, there should never be anything left in the tank. That 5:20 mile was unacceptable. Yes, it was on a hill, but there should not be an eight second difference between that mile and my next slowest mile. That said, this was an exercise in racing tired. I did two quality workouts in the week leading up to the race and was not 100% rested when I got to the starting line.

Ok, this is already much longer than I intended. Working out the spring race schedule now, but I am hoping to get in another mid-distance race before the big New York City Half Marathon in March.

15 to go

2012-01-01T18:03:00.000-08:00

I went to the finish line of my first race of 2012 as a spectator. As soon as I got out of work after midnight on January 1^st, I jogged a block to Central Park in hopes of catching Lauren finish the NYRR Midnight Run. I saw her cross line with a big smile, as always and got to hear her race recap for a change. When it comes to roles, she definitely does a better job as a fan than I do. It’s hard to match that enthusiasm. But I hope my cheering was acceptable.

Of course, every time I watch a road race, I have one constant thought: I wish I was out there. As I watched the top men cruise to the finish in perfect conditions at the Midnight Run, my thoughts were no different. It was supposed to be a stress-free down month, but December ended up being largely discouraging. I battled a minor case of plantar fascitis, followed by hip pains, followed by quad pains, remedied by inserts, massage, stretching, drilling, Epsom salt and ice. After three weeks of taking sporadic days off and feeling sore and uninspired on runs, I was starting to wonder if my 2012 plans were realistic. Running has always felt natural, but each time I stepped out the door I felt like I was forcing my body to do something it didn’t want to do.

Then came Saturday. I walked out of the gym, did my toe-touches – pardon me – tried in vain to touch my toes and started toward the park. Something felt different. I can’t quite explain it, but it felt as if my legs had just come out of the packaging. There was a spring in my step. My stride was smooth. It felt 100% different than every other run I had done since early December. I was able to complete my workout (6X600 at 1:50) with no aches or pains. Then, this morning, I set out for a 16 mile solo long run. Every step felt great. I could have run for 20 miles. The weather was perfect. The scenery from the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges was inspiring. I had new music on the iPod.

Armed with a rejuvenated body, it’s time to buckle down. Training for this Boston Marathon is going to be a totally new experience for me. I’ll have to rely on my own self-motivation more than ever before. I’ll have to sacrifice more down time than ever before. I’ll have to run more solo miles than ever before. I’ll have to make sure this race isn’t a drain on Lauren. With all that in mind, I’m ready to go. 15 weeks is not a lot of time.

December hates me

2011-12-14T17:50:00.000-08:00

One year ago today, I was wallowing in self-pity, sporting a boot and wondering when I'd be able to run again. Today, I find myself in a similar situation. A little less self-pity and no boot. Oddly enough, this latest injury didn't manifest itself while I was running. I felt the first twinges of it when I was standing at a bar in the Flatiron district, drinking a Guinness with my buddies Brian and Camissa. Out of nowhere, there was a dull pain in my left heel. I walked home that night thinking maybe it was simply time for a new pair of loafers.

The next day, I woke up with the same pain. Since I am not training for any races and just running leisurely, I was not yet to the point of freaking out when I set out for an easy 8-9 miles in the park before work. The pain went away after about one mile. "Ok, this is nothing," I said to myself. The following day, the heel pain was again present in the morning. Again, it went away during my run, but this time was replaced by pain in my right hip and glute. I finished the run, then using the powers of deduction and Google, diagnosed myself with plantar fascitis. The hip and glute pain was obviously a result of compensation.

I traded the run for the stationary bike on Sunday, hoping to nip this in the bud. It was no big deal since as I said, this is supposed to be my down time, and I had some episodes of "This American Life" to catch up on anyways. When I met with my coach Jerry the following day, he told me to go see a sports chiropractor immediately. Within two hours, the folks at Duke Sports Clinic were doing Graston, active release, stim and ultrasound on my foot. They did an hour-and-a-half of work and assured me I could run through this with the proper treatment.

My excitement over that news turned into skepticism when Tuesday's run brought on the same pains. Tonight's run was a repeat. In fact, just more than five miles in, I feared my gait was changing and I stopped and walked the mile back from the park to the gym. I don't think I should run through this. On that walk, I decided I am not going to run for the next three to four days. Bike and water-running will have to do. Hopefully this injury is fresh enough to be fixed with a few days of rest and careful treatment.

I am being aggressive and diligent. I spent the entire day at work today with either a frozen water bottle or a golf ball (for massaging) under my foot. It should be noted that this is by far, the most use I have ever gotten out of a golf ball. However, while I think my foot is where the pain is reaching the surface, I am under the belief that the real problem is in my calf. There is a trigger point in the soleus muscle that has a direct connection to the plantar. For the past three nights, I have massaged it with the Tiger Tail, the foam roller and a lacrosse ball to the point of tears. I am sleeping with a Strassburg sock (actually, I go to bed with it and then in an annoyed state of semi-consciousness, I tear it off about halfway through the night).

I have to wonder if there is a bigger problem here. Three injuries in two years and all on my left side. I know it's my weaker side, but is it the imbalance that is leading to problems this drastic?

Fortunately, there are 18 weeks until Boston. This injury forces me to do what doesn't come naturally, and rest for the remainder of December. This year, the holidays are once again, about healing.

The Finish Line of 2011

2011-12-04T21:45:00.000-08:00

When 2011 began, I was in a boot. I was no where close to running. A stress fracture in my ankle followed by a badly strained muscle in my back lead me to believe that athletically, 2011 was already a bust. Now, hours after my final race of the year, I am so glad I tried anyways.

When things are going well, it's hard to pull the plug. In fact, up until I started typing the opening sentences of this blog entry, I was looking for one last 5K to do next weekend so I can capture the one PR I couldn't grab this year. But, despite living in the largest metropolitan area in the United States, the only 5K I found had a statement on its website that said "runners welcome, but this event is more for the walking crowd." I can take a hint. The past month has been one of the most fulfilling, personally successful and most importantly, fun periods of my life as a runner. But, as someone who wants to have experiences like that over and over again for years to come, I know now is the time to give my body a rest. In the past week or so, there's been just a slight nagging pain here and there, and just a slight decrease in motivation. Those are subtle messages to slow down before you go too far.

In 2011, I set new PRs in the 15K, the 10K and the 5 mile. I won my hometown Turkey Trot, placed 3rd overall in the NYRR Cross Country Championships and ran one of the most rewarding 5K races I'll probably ever run. Since my first run back, a two mile hobble, on March 1st, I've logged 2,612.7 miles on my feet. It's about 900 fewer miles than I ran in all of 201o, but I also ran two marathons in 2010, trained consistently at 80-100 miles a week and oh yeah, started running in January. By choice, I did not run a marathon in 2011. Four between 2009 and 2010 satisfied the craving for a year and allowed me to focus on some shorter stuff. After not logging one run over 19 miles this year, rest assured, the craving has returned.

Of course, it wasn't all successful. My one stab at the half-marathon this year was a disaster. There's no use revisiting that. And despite knowing I have the ability to dip below 16 minutes in the 5K, I never backed it up with an actual race, so that dream goes on being just that.

But, many of the key reasons I consider this year such an overwhelming success don't have anything to do with statistics. From the second I started running when I was in high school it has been about proving something to myself. I ran to the drug store and back just to see if I could do it. I got terrible shin splints, but kept of going. I wasn't on a sports team of any kind, but I had something to prove and I proved it.

Stress fractures and back problems ended up being the least of my challenges in 2011. The real challenge would be to my ability to manage running, a hobby and real, serious, consequence-filled life. Who knew when the year started as a bachelor at a mid-market TV station in Charlotte, North Carolina with a running community 400 strong that it would end as a married man at the number one television station in the United States in Manhattan with a running community of one? With my priorities firmly in order -- family, work, running -- I pledged that not only would I continue running competitively, I would do it better and I would do it alone while giving nothing less than perfection to the two priorities that stood in front of it. I had something to prove and I proved it.

But that doesn't mean I'm done. I'm going to take the holidays to spend some quality time with my wife, who never once complained that I was skipping church for a long run, or dragging her out of bed early to go to a race. Quite the opposite actually. In a sea of strangers at the start and finish lines, she has been the beaming familiar face screaming words of encouragement. I'll run, probably close to every day, but no workouts, no doubles and no forcing myself out of bed if I am tired. And in as soon as you know it, it will be time to start back up again. I plan to work hard to be a contributing member of the Urban Athletics race team. I want to break 16 in the 5K. I want to be involved in the New York City running scene. I want to shatter my marathon PR in Boston. I have something to prove...

Two races, two tactics

2011-11-27T21:41:00.000-08:00

Sometimes racing isn’t about the time on the clock, but the strategy employed to get to the finish line. A good race doesn’t always mean it was a fast race. My last two races have been more of an exercise in tactics, and while one of them did result in a PR, that was not the original intent.

As I boarded the train, and then the bus to Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx last weekend, flashbacks of high school and college cross country road trips played in my head. What I remembered about racing at the park 10 years ago was that it was pretty hilly and the Burger King across the street could boast the most disgusting bathroom I have ever been in to this day. I’ll spare you the vivid description.

The New York Road Runners Cross Country series is a pretty chill group of races. Even at this race, the series championship named for NYRR legend Fred Lebow, the entry fee was a bargain basement $10. Runners milled about their respective teams until it was time to make our way to the makeshift starting line in the middle of a field. All of this looked vaguely familiar. As the starter described how to navigate the first 400 yards of the course, I was zoned out, thinking about the cup of coffee I’d be having when the race was over. In what would be a tactical race, this was a mistake. When the gun went off, I found myself in the lead with no idea where I was going. I slowed up, hoping someone would pass me, but no one did. When we got to the cones, I headed off course taking several hundred runners with me (after the race, one NYAC runner would jokingly say, “oh, YOU were the asshole!”). The screaming commands of NYRR volunteers got us back on track and we were off.

From the beginning, it was a runner from the Central Park Track Club (who I later learned was going to the trials in the 800) and me alone up front. We were, for the most part, side-by-side, as we headed onto the narrow trails that make up Van Cortlandt’s back hills. After a 5:02 first mile, we slowed dramatically. He was in front of me, and even though I wanted to pick up the pace, he cut me off at every attempted pass. It was smart racing on his part and frustrating racing on mine. I knew I was the better hill runner, but I kept having to slam on the brakes as the door was slammed in my face. Further complicating my stride was a series of embedded logs in the trail that you can either jump over or trip over. I chose to jump at the expense of any sort of rhythm.

By the time we completed a painfully slow second mile (6:00?), a third runner had caught us and had enough momentum to sling-shot past me. It was one of my teammates, which softened the blow, but it was still disappointing to go from being in contention to win to being a spectator of the battle up front. Heading into the finish, I realized just how much energy I wasted being impatient. I couldn’t dig myself out of third and finished about 15 seconds behind the winner. It’s tough to complain about a podium finish at the XC Championships, but I walked away with a lesson learned. I wasn’t upset with what was my slowest 5K time in three years, but vowed to save myself in a situation where someone else is dictating the pace.

The 35^th Annual Newark Turkey Day Run is a different story all-together. In the weeks leading up to the five mile race in my hometown, I knew exactly who would be in contention for the coveted frozen Butterball Turkey, but I could only guess their fitness level. I was certain it would be a contentious race and was confident I was in shape to hang with last year’s winner, a 26:30 guy (Marv) who runs for the University of Buffalo. I wasn’t sure how well my buddy and high school teammate Jesse was running, but I knew he was putting in the work and is a naturally talented runner.

Sure, the Turkey Day Race is not one you’ll see featured in Runner’s World, but it’s the only road race held in my hometown of Newark, New York and I am usually not able to make the trip home to be on the starting line. Plus, it's organized by my former High School Cross Country Coach who I credit/blame for this whole running obsession. So, it was important to me to make the most of a rare opportunity. When the command was given, a group of four of us immediately formed the lead pack. It was Marv, Jesse, another college XC runner and me behind the police car headed straight up the hill on Route 88. By the top of the hill, Marv and I had split off and were duking it out. He’d lead for a couple hundred yards, then I would pass him back. By mile 2, I knew one of us was going to win the race. Of course, I wanted it to be me. I had a hunch that if the race came down to a kick, I would lose so my best bet would be to open up a gap early that would be too big to overcome at the end of the race. As we crested the next hill on Silver Hill Road, I took the lead and threw in a surge. At mile 3, I had clocked a 5:07 and had creasted a gap of 50 meters. This was the easiest part of the course and I decided to take advantage, widening the lead to 100 meters by the time we started climbing the last and steepest hill at the start of mile four.

As difficult as it was, I didn't back down going up the hill, knowing that anything was possible with a strong runner behind me. With a half-mile to go, I was still feeling strong. I knew the race was in the bag barring breaking my leg, but I kept the pace steady wanting a strong finish. I crossed the line in 26:19, a new five mile PR on what I consider to be a very challenging course. I won by 23 seconds to a runner who might have beat me if I hadn't gambled on the second mile, betting on my ability to keep a challenging pace instead of allowing the wheels to fall off.

(True story, the last time I finished the Newark Turkey Run, it was in a much slower time and there was a police officer waiting for me at the finish line to hand me a subpoena concerning a certain gnome-theft ring. That's another story for another day).

My last four races have been enough for me to reclassify 2011 as a successful season, but I want to give it two more gos before shutting it down. I'm learning with each race, and maybe the last two races won't be PRs, but they could be new knowledge I'll have in my arsenal going into next spring.

Watching the Marathon from Another Perspective

2011-11-06T19:42:00.000-08:00

Wow. What a weekend. I don’t even know where to begin. Since moving to New York in June, marathon weekend has been circled on my calendar in red ink (proverbially speaking. I use a Google Calendar). I anticipated its awesomeness, but even I could not prepare for how incredibly cool it was.

THE EXPO: I was fortunate that Thursday and Friday were my days off this week. They were also the first two days of the expo which was a quick walk from my apartment. Trekkies have Star Trek conventions. Runner nerds have race expos. Along with Boston, this is Nerd Nirvana. Even though I was not running in the marathon, I went both days. The first day, I went to pick up my packet for the NYRR Dash to the Finish Line 5K. There is nothing more humbling for a runner than going to a marathon expo and picking up a 5k packet. Volunteers say well-intentioned, but infuriating things like, “maybe next year you’ll want to try the marathon.” I made this a quick transaction. After picking up my packet from the small corner of the convention center designated for the 5K runners, I went sight-seeing. Expos have the coolest running gear. Of course, I couldn't purchase many of the items for sale since they said “ING New York Marathon” on them (Running rule: don’t wear gear for a race you didn't run), but there was plenty of other neat things to look at. Kelly, a Charlotte friend, who was working the Timex booth, talked me into buying a brand new watch. I didn't need one, but I couldn’t resist an orange model they had for sale. Kelly’s a pretty stellar triathlete, so she was asked to pace Olympic softball pitcher Jennie Finch, who was running for charity. I got to meet Jennie and tell her about how steep the Queensboro Bridge is. I also got to meet my favorite running blogger Lauren Fleshman, who was preparing for her marathon debut.

The Race (Mine, not the real one): For a number of reasons, I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to run the New York Marathon. But, the 5k the NYRR was putting on the day before seemed like it would be fun and pretty low-key. I expected some sort of “fun run” where people brought their pets and most walked at a brisk pace. My prediction was a little off. NYRR assembled a massive elite field for the race and 10,000 people signed up. Feeling pretty good about my fitness, I thought this might be a good chance to finally have a respectable go at this distance in 2011. When the gun went off, I was just in front of the elite women. I have to admit, looking around and seeing runners like Deena Kastor, Sara Hall and Sally Kipyego running inches from me was pretty cool. I briefly tried to set off on my own, but following a slow first mile (5:24), the pack of fast women quickly reeled me back in. Seeing an opportunity to mooch off their speed, I settled into their groove. It must have been a hilarious sight as we entered Central Park. Spectators got to see a group of some of America’s best female distance runners, NCAA champions, at least one Olympic medalist and me, an idiot with a red sweatband. The pack remained tight through mile 2, a blistering 4:47 through the park. Heading into mile three, Sara Hall and NYAC runner Julie Culley made a move and opened up a gap. I was running stride-for-stride with Lisa Koll, the NCAA record holder in the 10,000 and Shalane Flannagan’s training partner and Kipyego, the Olympic Silver Medalist in the 10,000. With 400 to go, I was able to pull away from Koll and Kipyego away from me. 5:01 for mile 3. I threw I down and just headed for the finish line as fast as I could. My Garmin clicked 15:37 and 3.1, but the official time was 16:07. We must have run terrible tangents. No sub-16 for me this year, but I still had a big smile on my face. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to run in a race of that caliber, with runners of that stature. Following the finish, I spotted Paula Radcliffe and gave an “I’m a huge fan” wave, and chatted with Olympian Lopez Lamong about our shared Syracuse connection. I doubt any of those runners will remember that race as fondly as I will, and I am sure this recap makes me sound like a huge dork, but oh well. When I got home, I was dejected to learn that once again, I had been left out of the race results. I can only assume I have some sort of magnetism that erases chip timers. I’m upset about it, but I am trying not to dwell on it. I have contacted the Road Runners. Maybe they will fix it. In the meantime, Asics posted this video that confirms my story.

The Race (The real one): I have run in four marathons, three of them major, but I have never been a spectator. Working out the logistics of cheering on the runners of the New York Marathon is no easy task. My goal was to kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to get in a long run and see the leaders, then make it back to the grandstand in Central Park for the finish. I measured distances, calculated paces and plotted a route. At 7:45 Sunday morning, I met Meagan and Jordan (in town for official running-related business) and Heidi and we headed toward Brooklyn. We got in a solid 15 miles, running over the Manhattan Bridge to Prospect park and back to mile eight of the course in downtown Brooklyn. There, we saw the lead men and women go by, some of our friends from Charlotte and some of my Urban Athletics teammates. Then, we all hopped the train for Manhattan where we would go our separate ways. I met Lauren outside the park and we made our way to the grandstand where I had managed to land media passes. From there, we watched the top woman, Firehiwat Dado motor across the line in 2:23:15. We saw Geoffrey Mutai smash the course record. We watched wheelchair athletes give it their all as they crested the final hill before the finish line. We saw runners set new PRs, conquer life-long goals, and pour their hearts and souls into those last two-tenths of a mile. It was beautiful and inspiring and after a year away from the event, I couldn’t be more excited to tackle it again.

The Friends: The highlight of this weekend was getting to see so many good friends who were in town to race or cheer. From catching up with Kelly at the expo, to welcoming Theoden to stay at our apartment, to running with Meagan and Jordan, brunching with Katie and Ben, dining with Scott, Meredith, Bob and Allejandro and screaming until my throat hurt for Stephen, Meghan, Mo and Kevin, it’s good to see familiar faces. Everyone raves about Christmastime in New York, but it’s going to have be pretty spectacular to top marathon time in New York.

Redemption Run

2011-10-23T19:34:00.000-07:00

I signed up for the Rock and Roll 10k in Prospect Park, Brooklyn because it looked like it would be a fun race in a pretty park. With the half-marathon behind me, I figured it would be a low-pressure event put together by the Competitor group which is known for its highly organized, high-energy races. In fact, this being an inaugural event, I would likely have never entered it unless I knew the people putting it together had a sterling reputation. Inaugural races have a history of being too long, too short, not starting on time, messing up the timing, running out of bananas, or any combination of the just-listed problems.

When the half-marathon didn’t produce the results I was expecting, this “fun run” turned into a redemption run. I looked toward it as a chance to prove to myself that the run in Jersey City was circumstantial, caused by a more-hectic-than-usual work schedule, a string of sleepless nights and oppressive humidity. I knew this was the case, but I needed something concrete to prove it. Otherwise, in my admittedly crazy mind, I had failed in this ambitious endeavor that I had set out on; improving my running on my own while balancing a new intense and time-consuming job, learning a new city (which just happens to be New York) and being a good husband. Failure would mean really re-thinking how I approach my hobby.

The road to Brooklyn (GQ’s “coolest city on the planet”) started out a little rocky. When my work schedule for race week came out, it had me listed as producing the late night news for the three nights leading up to the race, including the night before the race. Visions of Jersey City appeared in my head. But, instead of panicking, I formulated a plan. Each night, I went to bed shortly after I got home and took naps after enjoying breakfast with Lauren the next morning. The night before the race, I pre-packed my bag and decided that even though it would cost a little more money, we’d take a cab to Brooklyn to save 20 minutes of travel time we’d have to tack on if we took the subway.

We got to Prospect park at 6:35, just under an hour before the start of the race. It was still dark and cold. Lauren and I were both shivering as we walked to packet pick-up. As soon as we got there, we found Marcie, a colleague of mine who worked at the competition when I was in Syracuse and now works in Orlando. She pointed me in the right direction of the bib numbers and we briefly caught up. Then, it was time for business. I took off on an easy warm-up along the course, and succeeded in finding a porto-john that was off-the-beaten-path and thus devoid of a long line and the mess that comes with portos in more high-traffic areas.

I was cutting it close on time when I got back from my 2.2 mile jog. I quickly pinned my bib on to my red Urban Athletics singlet, changed into my Adidas Adios, put on a CRC sweatband, posed for a picture and jogged to the first coral. I made my way to the front of the group just behind the elite field made up mostly of Kenyans and Ethiopians from the Westchester Track Club. I was pleasantly surprised to find UA teammates Josh and David were both racing as well. Familiar faces at races aren’t as common as they used to be.

The 7:30 start time came and went. There was a speech from Brooklyn Borough president Marty Markowitz, a recorded National Anthem and then finally the command to go. A bit off-put that the starter wouldn’t allow me to edge my way up to the elite group (I know I am not elite, but there was some 12-year-old kid in there, so the standards obviously weren’t very high), I had an extra shot of adrenaline that gave me a nice boost from the start. I quickly caught the pre-teen runner and passed him with ease, then made the decision to select a gear. I settled into my goal pace which was in the neighborhood of 5:20, and was able to hit the first mile in 5:18 without feeling much stress. By this point, the field had spread out and those of you who have read my previous race reports will not be surprised to hear I was now working solo.

Mile two climbed the first hill in Prospect Park. Sidebar for history lesson. Prospect Park was designed Frederick Olmstead after he completed Central Park. Upon completion he is quoted as calling Prospect Park the “one he got right.” It truly is a beautiful place. I digress. Mile two climbs a fairly noticeable hill and I backed off to a 5:29 figuring I could make up the lost time on the downhill. By mile three I was cruising and still feeling very good. I hit the 5K in 16:22 stride for stride with a Westchester guy who eventually pulled away from me. But, I knew I was on pace as I headed into the second half of the race.

The biggest hill comes midway through the third mile. My pace dropped about as much as I would expect, but I did have a momentary fear that I might be too tired at the top of the hill to get back on track. Fortunately, those fears were unfounded and I went through the five mile mark at 26:42. For me, the five mile was the end of the work portion of the race and beginning of the hanging on portion of the race. I knew that I was on track for a PR and that helped me push aside any tiredness or aches and pains. Shortly after the mile marker, the lead pack hit heavy traffic. Runners were supposed to stay to the right of the dividers separating them from those nearing the finish, but many strayed, oblivious to people like me quickly approaching. There were no near-collisions, but I did have to shout “on your left” a couple of times out of fear that someone would make a sudden move that my cat-like reflexes wouldn’t be able to react to.

Finally, I rounded the corner at the six mile marker. A clear path to the finish line was in sight and I could already hear Lauren cheering for me. You can always hear her above any crowd, screaming as loud as she can. It’s good extra motivation to finish strong. With just two-tenths of a mile to go, I dropped the hammer, finishing with a 4:50 pace kick in 33:34, a new PR for me and a top ten finish. I was so thrilled to have run a good race that even the announcer commented on my finish-line fist pump. While personally 2011 has been one of the most-rewarding years of my life, running-wise it has been largely disappointing. A string of injuries ruined the first half of the year, and I hadn’t set a personal best in a single distance despite what seemed like a lot of hard work and feeling very fit. That’s why the half-marathon was such a letdown. Now, I know it wasn’t an indicator of time spent, workouts run or dedication.

There was a brief scare when we got back to the apartment. Lauren looked up the results and I was not listed. “Oh no, it’s Richmond all over again,” I thought. Without missing a beat, I fired off an email and called Competitor. Then, I laid down for a nap to try and sleep off this unexpected interruption in the celebration. By the time I went back to the computer, the results were updated and I was in my rightful place. It’s pretty hard to walk away upset after running a PR.

How I'm capping 2011

2011-10-15T09:56:00.001-07:00

I was pretty down on running last time I posted. So, I took a little more than a week to not care about it too much and reset the system physically and mentally. That week allowed me to give a lot of other much more important things the attention they needed and deserved. I was given a tough assignment at work and I really wanted to shine. I wanted to attend Lauren's matriculation ceremony and spend time with her mother who was in town to visit. Not to mention the continuing challenge of assimilating and learning life in Manhattan. In no particular order, we took in a Broadway show, found some delicious new restaurants, enjoyed a night out with Mr and Mrs. Contario who were in from Geneva, and another night out with Mr. and Mrs. Mainwaring who were in from Charlotte. We discovered a CSA that will provide us with local produce each week (See Lauren's blog for some of the culinary creations). And we did something that is quintessentially New York; that is, get the hell out of New York. We took a weekend in Chappaqua (not far away, but not the city) to breathe fresh air, drink good wine and drive a car for a change.

Of course, during that time, I got over my fight with running and started to develop a plan for the rest of 2011. I'm pretty excited about it, so I am going to share it here. Next weekend, I'm running the inaugural Rock and Roll 10K in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I have never run a Rock and Roll race, but the reviews are always glowing. I did a 5K in Prospect Park back in July, and enjoy the terrain even though it is a little hilly. My friend Marcie is flying into the city to run it, and her being there was really the kick in the pants I needed to sign up.

The next weekend, I have a complimentary entry to the Poland Spring Marathon Kick Off Five Miler in Central Park. This race was a recent addition to the calendar. I had no plans to race this weekend, but a free entry into a sold out race is tough to turn down. At this point, I am not sure whether I will race all out, or run a solid tempo because the following weekend is the race I'm really excited about.

I signed up for the NYRR Dash to the Finish Line 5K thinking it would be more of a fun run than a competitive race. A lot of people from office are running it, and I figured it would be a good time, no pressure kind of situation. Then, I got to thinking that I never really achieved what I wanted to achieve in the 5K distance this year. Usually, the 5K is reserved for spring and summer, but since I am not doing a marathon this fall, I figured why not go for broke. NYRR is bringing in a solid elite field for this race including Dathan Ritzenheim, Molly Huddle, Deena Kastor and Lopez Lamong to name a few. I'm hoping the atmosphere is enough to bring a PR.

On November 20th, it's a return to Van Cortlandt Park where I ran in high school and college for the Fred Lebow Cross Country Championships. The Urban Athletics team is primed to put up a good showing, and with our deep field, it would be an honor to be in the top five.

The stretch of races will wrap up with the Newark Turkey Trot 5 Miler in Newark, NY on Thanksgiving. I ran the race a few times in High School and college, but haven't run it since 2002. I believe 2001 was the year I was handed a subpoena at the finish line. It's the 35th anniversary of this small town and event and perhaps the final time it's going to be run. I'm excited to get to run on my home turf and perhaps, if I am lucky, hang with Jesse for at least a couple of miles.

Then, December is going to be a rest month. I'm going to try really hard to not do any workouts or run more than 50 miles a week for the entire month. I'm not good at self restraint, so this will likely be the biggest challenge. But, I know it's smart to give the body some ample rest, especially with a grueling Boston cycle beginning in 2012.

For now, the training is going well. I'm working out on Tuesdays and Thursdays with the Urban Athletics team. I did a mile repeat workout where the times ranged from 5:11 all the way down to 4:57. I did a two mile repeat progression workout that started at marathon pace (11:29) and ended with a 10:34. The fitness is there. I'm hoping to salvage the season.

Just not my day

2011-09-25T12:57:00.000-07:00

No food screams, "I'm dejected and disappointed" like an Entemann's Chocolate Donut, straight from the cardboard box. So after crossing the finish line at this morning's Newport Liberty Half Marathon in Jersey City, New Jersey, I skipped the customary bagel and went right for the processed pastries. Simply put, I was pissed off. After eating the donut, I changed shoes and attempted to cool down, but I had nothing. I just walked along the Hudson wondering how I missed my goal by more than two minutes.

I've spent the hours since the race analyzing and over-analyzing what went wrong. My workouts have been remarkable. Track intervals and tempos have been as fast as they have ever been. My mileage has been consistent. I've been 100% injury free. There are some inarguable factors. It was incredibly humid. I ran the entire race by myself, and according to my Garmin, the course was 13.3 miles (which of course is not always accurate and probably has more to do with my inability to run tangents) But, as I groggily emerged from my early afternoon nap wishing I could sleep the rest of the day away, the answer was very clear. I was too tired to be out there.

I toed the line this morning having slept 9 hours since Thursday and having worked 40 hours in the same three day period. Call it bad luck. I could not have predicted that I would have such a monstrous stretch in those all-important days leading up to the race. Friday, I arrived at work at 6:45am and found out about a half-hour later that my services would be needed until 12am. The following day, Saturday, we launched the new studio. The date for launch was set after I put this race on my calendar. Since I am the weekend producer, the honor (and it truly was an incredible honor) of putting together the first shows in this state-of-the-art facility was given to me. With all eyes on my shows, I went in early to polish the programs as best I could. As luck would have it, coverage of college football didn't end until midnight, delaying our 11pm newscast and my date with my bed by more than an hour. I was in bed at 1:30am with a 5:45am wake up call to catch the train to Jersey.

Physically and mentally, that kind of schedule is exhausting. I actually think the latter is more damaging to a runner than the former. One day of lost sleep probably wouldn't have destroyed the race, but after three days of stressful and draining work, I should have had the maturity to scratch my entry, acknowledging that for the hobby runner, sometimes real life -- the kind of life that pays the bills -- gets in the way.

I got handed a bad omen before the race even started. When I went to get my bib number, they handed me bib #911. Is there any worse number to be wearing in a race in the shadow of Lower Manhattan?

The race didn't actually start that bad. At the horn, I got right into my groove. My plan was to run 5:35s which translates to a 1:13:10 finishing time. The lead pack, a couple of Saucony sponsored guys, two of the top guys from the Central Park Track Club, and one Kenyan took off on their own, leaving me in no man's land. And that is where I would remain. 13 miles with me and my thoughts. It was going to be a like a long tempo run from a mental standpoint. Through mile 4, I was high 5:20s, low 5:30s. At one point, I heard someone cheering for me. It was Ryan Korby, who lives in the area and joined me for one mile. He was also cheering at various spots along the course which was very helpful. Headed into Liberty State Park, I knew there were two guys working behind me, and I contemplated slowing my pace so I could run with them. In hindsight, that would have been smart, but I motored on alone along a greenway that ran parallel to the Hudson River.

Besides some pretty spectacular views of the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island and Lower Manhattan, the course itself was dreadful. It was pancake flat with absolutely no elevation changes. Terrain alternated between asphalt, concrete, mud and a number of boardwalks. There were also more turns than I have ever seen in one race. I will however, give the race organizers credit for marking the course well. Somewhere in Jersey City, there is a hardware store that is completely out of white spray paint. Not to mention the humidity. Last week was as perfect as it gets for running. Temperatures were in the low 60s and the air was dry. This week felt like July.

At miles 6 and 7, I contemplated dropping out. I was already feeling like I was running on an empty energy tank. But, I had no idea how I would get back to the start/finish area where Lauren was waiting for me (she is so supportive). My times had fallen off significantly. I knew that I had the fitness to go faster, but my body was not heeding the command to pick up the pace. I simply could not speed up.

In the closing miles, I was passed by one person, the only one I saw the entire race. As I came down the stretch, my Garmin showed 1:14:40 for 13.1 miles. But, with so many turns, it's more likely I ran a tactically poor race than the course was long. I crossed the line in 1:15:37. Not even a PR. 13.3 miles according to the GPS, but as I always say, before we had GPS watches, we just trusted the course. This race has been run for 18 years. I am sure they have a handle on it.

I'm pretty down about the performance. It's frustrating because after a great run for me at Boilermaker, I put all my eggs into this basket. I know for a fact that the fitness for sub 1:14 was there. But, I know I can't dwell on it. My first race as a married man and Urban Athletics team member and last race as a 27-year-old was a bust. But, there will be plenty more. I am fairly certain I know why I ran the way I did and I think there is still plenty of time to capitalize on all the hard work. I am going to consult with Mark and see how quickly he thinks I can attempt another half-marathon. There is an NYRR event in Central Park next weekend, but that seems too soon. The upside is, I get free-entry and it's close. I'd love to fly to Charlotte or Syracuse and hit either the Thunder Road Half, where I would have Paul to work with or the Empire State Half which would be like a homecoming race for me. There is still a lot of research to do.

After coming back to Manhattan and getting some pancakes for brunch with Lauren, I collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep. It couldn't be more obvious that my body was craving the rest.

Thoughts on Tying the Knot and Cutting Ties

2011-09-08T11:15:00.001-07:00

Every wedding has a horror story. Leading up to my own nuptials, I heard everyone else’s. Perhaps over the years, they’d become embellished, but they all served as little hiccups in an otherwise perfect day. That’s why, as my wedding day approached, I waited for something to go terribly wrong and leave Lauren and I scrambling at the last minute. Would the restaurant we chose for our rehearsal dinner lose power, ruining all the food? Would our priest come down with dysentery, leaving him unable to perform the ceremony? Perhaps our caterer got the wrong day, or my parents’ flight would be cancelled. The eve of the wedding came and went with everything running smoothly. The rehearsal was easy. The dinner was fantastic. Some of our guests were delayed by a traffic jam on 95 somewhere between Washington and Charlotte, but everyone made it in time for the food to be served and the wine to be poured. There were speeches that made me feel as if I were at a roast. The perfect mixture of laughter and tears.

Saturday morning, I set out on 16+ mile run with a group of nearly 30 people. I watched every step, looking for errant twigs, branches and trash bags. No open wounds, or worse yet, broken bones for me! The hours between the run and the ceremony were filled with a delicious brunch, a stop to pick up the kegs, a brief shopping spree at Jos. A Bank and most importantly, a nap. I was at the church in time for pictures, and despite the humidity, it was a beautiful day. Of course, Lauren looked stunning in her dress, which I saw for the first time when I walked into the courtyard for our photos together.

At one point, I imagined a paralyzing nervousness would overcome me. Aaron said it could happen when I walked into the church for the first time and saw all the people staring at me. But, it never happened. I remained as cool as the other side of the pillow for the entire ceremony. I guess that’s one side effect of extreme confidence. The music was perfect, the sermon was perfect and Lauren said, “I will.” With the exception of jumping the gun on the kiss, the hard part of getting hitched went off without a hitch.

Our reception was the perfect party. It was a low-key Carolina Barbecue feast with local beer, good wine, delicious desserts and our best friends and closest family members. Lauren’s dad made the room in the church look like a bonafide banquet hall. The DJ didn’t play anything on my “Do Not Play List” (Nickleback, Nikki Minaj, etc.) and did play “Bye, Bye, Bye”, “Ride Wit Me”, and “New York, New York”…ya know, wedding classics. There was a champagne shower, heartfelt speeches and a photo memory book that will last a lifetime. There were so many friends we would have loved to have invited to share the occasion with us, but it just wasn’t possible. If we had invited our entire fantasy guest list we would have needed a bigger church and a bigger budget.

Our mini-moon was…wait for it…perfect. Farrell and Steve let us use their cabin in Ashe County for a few days. The entire time we were there it poured, allowing us to do absolutely nothing for a solid 48 hours. Until you have planned and executed a wedding, you have no idea how draining it is. And this, coming from me who did about 25% of the work to Lauren’s 75%. We were both totally wiped out. Neither of us stayed awake past 10pm and we slept both until at least 8. I managed to get some light running in, although, I didn’t push it on the hilly terrain and I had to stop and walk for territorial dogs. We ate like royalty. On the first night, we made a pasta primavera with hot Italian sausage. The second night, I grilled steaks (burning them a bit), while Lauren made asparagus and roasted sweet potatoes. It was a short, but sweet trip.

Now, we’re back in the big city. Our wedding marks not only the beginning of our life together, but the official end to our time in Charlotte. True, I’ve been in New York since June 18th, but with Lauren there, it felt like I had one foot in each city. Now, both feet are firmly planted in Manhattan. I plan to submerse myself in the community, the culture and the job here just like I did in Charlotte. I’ve already dove headfirst into my new position at ABC. I’m on a competitive running team sponsored by a local store and Adidas and a member of the New York Road Runners. I am getting to know people in our very unique neighborhood nestled in the heart of eclectic Chelsea. We are going to be here for at least three years and now that Lauren has joined me here, we are well on our way to planting roots and making this our home.

We will never have what we had in Charlotte, but we hope to have an experience that is equally as rewarding and life-changing. That said, I’d be lying if I said a part of me won’t stay in Charlotte. In the past, I’ve picked up and left town never to be heard from again. College. Syracuse to some extent. That’s all well and great for a while because it’s easy to vanish, but in the end, I’ve ended up regretting not making the minimal effort to stay in touch with people who were integral parts of my life. On my fifth major move of my life, it’s time to try a different approach. I won’t cut ties with Charlotte, I’ll just loosen them. For my sanity and the sanity of others, I will be a silent, paying member of the running club. But, I’ll keep in contact and follow the successes, trials, tribulations and major life events of my closest friends. For them, I want to remain no farther than a phone call away. Who knows what the future holds? It’s a cliché’, but it is so because it is true. Lauren and I love Charlotte, and after three years in the middle of Manhattan, we will find ourselves at another crossroads. Going back is not unrealistic. It is as much of a possibility as anything else. We have talked about settling down there because of its location, it’s climate and most importantly, its people.

Look, I don’t know where “home” is yet. I know where it is for now. I know who it is with. We have the rest of our lives to figure out the rest.

Small Town Race in the Big City

2011-08-11T06:30:00.000-07:00

Although I raced a 5K in Prospect Park last week, this weekend's Sgt. Keith Anderson Brooklyn Bridge 5K was the first race I signed up for after moving to New York City. The race was appealing for a number of reasons. First and foremost, my training plan had me racing this weekend anyways. It was designed when I had the Blue Points 5K in Charlotte on my schedule. Secondly, as a tourist masquerading as a local, this was a good way to explore the Brooklyn Bridge and blend in with the city folk. The course is over the Brooklyn Bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn and back. Good way to check that landmark off the list. And third, it's the same weekend as the New York Road Runners Club Championship race in Central Park, which I wasn't eligible to run in and the Nautica New York City Triathlon which I had no desire to compete in (Swimming is bad enough, but swimming in the Hudson River? I think I'll pass).

It is the third reason that gives this blog entry its title. With two other marquee events in town, this was definitely destined to be as low key as it gets for Manhattan. Even in New York, there are only so many runners to toe the line at various races...even if they do offer breathtaking views of the island. I arrived at New York City Hall Park via cab roughly 90 minutes before the start of the race. Although, I was pretty certain it would be a small race, I wasn't positive and wanted to give myself plenty of time. I was, however, one of the first people there. The race is put on by the NYPD in memory of an officer who collapsed and died in 2004 while chasing a suspect down the street. While the police force here is the best of the best, they are not, understandably, race directors. I had to laugh as I stretched on a park bench listening to two officers try to determine how they would operate the bag check. When one came up with the idea of handing all the runners raffle tickets to carry with them, I felt compelled to go from observer to advisor. With the dew point about 2 degrees lower than the air temperature it would be mere seconds before those tiny tickets disintegrated into something unrecognizeable. I showed the guys the tear off section of the race bib and viola...we have a bag check. They were very grateful.

I was drenched following my warm up which took me around Lower Manhattan, past Ground Zero and through the Financial District. No doubt about it, it was a sticky day. About 10 minutes before the start, everyone started to make their way toward the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. As the crowd congregated, I surveyed the possible competition and noticed that I might be on my own for this one. Even though there were about 800 people in the race, I didn't see many people in short shorts, flats and a singlet (not that they guy in basketball shorts and Asics Kayanos hasn't come out of nowhere in the past). In fact, a couple of guys came up to me and told me I would probably win. Of course, I never take anything like that for granted, and as we followed an NYPD bagpiper to the official starting line, the trim, shirtless chap next to me had me wondering if there might be some competition after all.

When the horn sounded, the other runner was matching me stride-for-stride on the uphill start. I was feeling the incline of the bridge immediately, and though it was keeping me from going out too fast, I was worried I might be doing the opposite and going out too slow. As we crested the hill, I threw in a surge and the other runner couldn't hang. From that point on, it would be me and my thoughts. I didn't see another soul as I made my way over the wooden walkway. Just after crossing over a slab of concrete that says "Welcome to Brooklyn", there is a nice downhill and then two cops waiting at the turn around. This turn around was reminiscent of the old China Grove barrel and I slowed significantly.

Going back toward Manhattan, I was running against the oncoming crowd. They were all very supportive and I tried my best to cheer for all of them while taking in the stunning view of lower Manhattan from high above the traffic on the bridge. It's a fairly narrow walkway, so I had to really do some maneuvering. Just after the mile two mark, a kid, maybe no older than 8, suddenly shifted right into my path. I didn't even have time to realize what was happening and I went down hard. I banged my knee on the bridge and scraped my hand. I was shaken, but got back up and tried to regain the time I had lost. It took a good 30 seconds to get my stride back and I temporarily had a little limp.

After that mishap, it was smooth sailing. I came off the bridge and into city hall park where the announcer called my name and lots of NYPD officers cheered. Following a three mile cool down, I got a lovely trophy and took my picture with Sgt. Ferguson's mother and a couple of detectives. I'll keep that picture in my wallet lest I ever get caught for public urination.

I am definitely satisfied with the race. Although I ran 16:26, that does include a slow up at the turn-around (because I wasn't sure it actually was the turn-around), and of course the fall. Not to mention, I ran it with no one to push me at all. The race is a good confidence builder as I ramp up for the half-marathon. I need to find a good 10k to run in between now and September 25th, but so far, nothing is popping up on the schedule.

Life Recap (with a miniature race recap too)

2011-07-31T19:33:00.000-07:00

I won't even call myself an amateur runner. Running happens to be my hobby and it happens to teeter on the edge of obsession. I can admit it. The past six weeks have been a true test of how passionate I am about the hobby and how much I can juggle without letting one of the balls drop.

Life is about prioritizing. My priorities are my fiancee' Lauren and our families, my job and running...in that order. I won't lie. There have been times, perhaps even recently, where running came before work. But, I am in a position now where that would be suicide. The stakes are too high. On top of all that, I am still in the middle of a major move. Since I have moved to New York, I feel like my life is straddling Charlotte in New York. That's a pretty big distance to cover. Getting moved into our new home in Chelsea will be a big relief once it happens.

Running hasn't taken a backseat. Not in the least bit. But, I have had to get a lot more creative with how I keep my training consistent. Gone for now are the days of regular hours at work. In fact, more often than not, I am working long and late shifts making it impossible to get up for a 5:30am run. This was especially challenging during a recent string of days where New York City saw record heat, with the thermometer reaching 100 or hotter three days in a row. To make it work, I went to bed as soon as I got home at 12am, and made sure I was out the door by 7:45am to get the mileage in before the worst part of the day. Some days, instead of a 6:00am easy shakeout, I'll do a 12:00am easy shakeout. Same concept and benefit, different time.

I've had to get accustomed to doing speed work on my own. If everything lines up right, I can make it to the Central Park Track Club's Tuesday night workout, but so far, that's only happened twice. As some one who likes solo recovery runs, but hates solo interval and tempo runs, this has not been an easy transition. Yet, I'm proud to say I haven't bagged a single workout. In fact, I've had some of my best performances.

The long run requires some choreography. The first hurdle is the lack of locations. When you live in Manhattan there are really only two places to run that don't require a subway ride. One is Central Park the other is the West Side Highway. That's not a complaint. Both are among the best, most scenic places to run in the United States. Central Park for the obvious reasons and the West Side Highway because you can see the entire island if you stay on it long enough. On a given long run, you get fantastic views of the Interpid, the Empire State Building, the emerging Freedom Tower, The Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge, Battery Park, Wall Street, Chelsea Piers and the South Street Seaport if you make it long enough. However, just like any other running location, they grow monotonous. A change of scenery means a significant time commitment. I loved my 17 miler in Rockefeller State Park with Dan and Val Matena earlier this month, but the travel time is three hours round trip. Van Cortlandt Park is a little closer, but it will cost about an hour's worth of travel time. That's a lot of hours to sacrifice when your work schedule on weekends is 1pm-12am.

I am still trying to figure out how I will work racing into this new life. I work weekends, but fortunately I work weekend evenings. So, I can race as long as the race is somewhere in the New York metro area. This weekend was my first test. I signed up for a very low-key 5K at Prospect Park in Brooklyn. By low key, I mean it was not a New York Road Runners Club event. There were still about 1,000 people in the race. Getting to the park took two trains and about 50 minutes, so I had to be up pretty early. I got there with plenty of time for a three mile warm up. When the gun went off, naturally, I went out with the leaders. Since everyone was a stranger, I figured I'd see how long I could hang with the front pack and go from there. I hit the mile in 5:07 feeling decent, but then ran smack into mile two which is a steady uphill climb. Even though I picked off two runners on the hill, I was struggling. By the time I hit the downhill third mile, I was pretty well spent and not able to take as much advantage of it as I would have liked. I finished in 16:23 which placed me 10th overall. Not a PR, but it matches my time at China Grove last month and on a much more challenging course. It's progression, albeit slow.

The next couple of weeks will be the real test of time management. I am fortunate to have the very knowledgeable Mark Hadley of Maximum Performance Running coaching me from a far, and encouraging me to stick with the plan. I am hoping to be in peak condition for the Newport Libery Half Marathon in Jersey City, NJ on September 25th, the day before I turn 28-years-old. August will be where I hit my highest mileage, peaking at around 85 miles per week. I don't expect to working in the newsroom fewer than 50 hours on top of the running. Oh yeah, and on September 3rd, I'm getting married to the love of my life.

Juggling isn't easy. If it was, everyone would do it. I'm going to juggle as long as I can. Right now, I see no signs of backing off and hopefully that is the case for many years. But, it's always important to know in the back of your mind which balls you can drop when your routine starts to slip, and which ones you always want to have in your hands.

A Tale of Two Races

2011-07-11T08:50:00.001-07:00

It's been an unusual couple of weeks. My routine is gone. Any sort of regularity in my sleep, eating, work schedule and training is non-existent. All things must happen when time allows. That said, I think I have done a pretty good job of maintaining a healthy balance. Three weeks into this new chapter in a new city, I don't think I have lost any of the discipline I learned in Charlotte.

If anything has faltered, it is sleep. It was especially hard to come by in the days leading up to the Boilermaker 15K in Utica. I signed up for this race two weeks after coming back from my back injury. I had just finished a particularly rewarding 16 mile run in Charlottesville, and gained enough confidence to put a race on the schedule in ink. I hadn't run it since college, but had fond memories of the atmosphere and organization of the biggest 15K road race in the country. However, I did not anticipate the life changes that would come as a prelude to the starter's horn.

The Friday before the race, I worked until 12am, and had to be up to catch a town car to the airport at 5:30am. I got to Rochester, rented a car and drove to Newark in time for an easy run, a quick nap and a couple's shower my aunt was throwing. I went to bed at our cottage in Wolcott around 10pm that night and was up at 4am to make the two hour drive to Utica. Although the race didn't start until 8:15 (or so I thought. More in a few paragraphs), I hadn't made it to the expo the evening before so I had to pick up my packet by 7am.

With Lauren keeping me company, I felt decent on the drive. I actually drank an entire cup of coffee thinking three hours was plenty of time to work it out of my system. We got to the starting line and it was surprisingly chilly. It was barely 60 degrees and although it was still early, that boded well for what the weather might be like come race time. During my warm-up, I passed by the elite tent where I saw throngs of Kenyans and Ethiopians along with Bill Rodgers, Stephan Shay and Pezz. I was surprised to see here there. I also ran into Brad DePoint who ran on my team at Oswego.

As I made my way to the starting line, I heard the announcer say the race would begin in 10 minutes. Apparently, it started at 8 and not 8:15 and I still had 13,000 people to make my way through. I didn't make many friends as I pushed and shoved my way to my assigned corral at the front as someone sang the National Anthem. Somehow, I made it to the very front line right behind the elite field. But, there was no time for strides.

When the horn blew, I got into a pack of people and tried to settle in without going out too fast. Not knowing what kind of shape I was in, and knowing the course was very demanding, I hoped to break 52 minutes which wouldn't be a PR by any means, but would be about 5:35 pace and a decent confidence booster. I hit the first mile in 5:17, which is nice and controlled, but I felt terrible. Through the second mile, I hoped I was just shaking out the uncomfortable and would find a nice groove by mile three to settle in to. During the third mile, a blazing fast woman pulled up along side me and I thought I might stay with her. We ran together through the 5K point. I crossed at 17:05 feeling like I had just run a 16:00 and wondering if I could hang on for two more 5Ks. I actually contemplated dropping out. I didn't, but the woman dropped me. I would later find out she is a Russian who runs for Adidas and was the second female finisher making some megabucks for her run.

As you start mile four, you hit the biggest hill on the course. You can see it wind and climb through a park as you hit the base of it. Seeing the ascent demoralized me. Adding insult to injury, as we ran through the water station at the mile marker, some guy shoved me. I responded with a, "what the hell, man?" But, he didn't say a thing. I climbed the hill, feeling my pace drop. I wasn't wearing my Garmin, but I felt slow. Nearing the top of the hill, I managed to pick off a couple of people and by the time we hit the downhill, the grove I was looking for had suddenly shown up. With my first four miles not a total disaster, I thought I might be able to salvage the race. Mile five was a 5:04 (all downhill), and I felt like a new runner. I went through the 10K in 33:56.

The crowd support at Boilermaker is phenomenal. It's the biggest event Utica has all year. It's televised. They shut down the entire city and people line the streets like they would for a marathon. So, I decided to take a page from the Aaron Linz racing handbook and use the crowd to my advantage. I'd pump my fist in the air, cup my hand to my ear, high-five little kids. It was a blast. At mile eight, a radio station was set up and playing "Last Friday Night" by Katy Perry. I did a little dance then started lip-synching the song and the people went crazy. These antics may have ended up costing me a few seconds and a little bit of injury, but I was having too much fun to care.

With a mile to go, I still felt fresh and decided to lay it all out. The crowds are really loud there, so I gave it all I had and motored to the finish. When I crossed the line, my watch said 51:11, but my official time on the results was 51:17. Still a PR and a great feeling. Lauren found me as soon as I came through the chute and we started walking toward the party My quads and calves were pretty wrecked (and are searing today), but the unlimited free Saranac beer at the finish line made that pain disappear. By the way, any race the ends at a brewery is a race you want to do. We hung around the huge post-race party for about a half-hour. There was a great band and tons of food. Then, it was 3.5 miles back to the car at the starting line. I ran it, a little bit tipsy from the beer and flying high from the race and the excitement.

Four races into the "season" and this is the first one I am truly pleased with. The challenge going forward is to continue to do the workouts without my Charlotte support group and log the miles day-in and day-out. I have been good about it thus far, using the Boilermaker as my motivation. I think I'll be able to use the same race as a reason to keep up the hard work because I'll want to eclipse that performance when I step to the line again.

Respect the rest

2011-06-26T06:50:00.000-07:00

It's often hard to practice what you preach. Generally, your "sermon" is your description of an idealistic you, while you know in your heart that the old "easier said than done" expression is applicable. I always tell new runners if they are going to listen to anyone, listen to their bodies. When people ask me about rest days, I tell them it is not necessary to schedule a rest day, but rather to be open to taking one if your body sends you the signals.

The sheer magnitude of this week sort of snuck up on me. I was running in Central Park on Friday wondering why I felt so run down and so sore. It seemed like my mileage was fairly low. But, as I started to look at how much had changed since last Saturday, it dawned on me that it was one of my most intense weeks yet. Saturday morning, I ran a 5K in Charlotte. Granted, the time wasn't blisteringly fast, but it was a hilly course and I still worked hard. Less than two hours after the race, I was on a plane moving to my new home in New York. I unpacked my stuff and went for another run. The next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn for a 17 miler. Monday, I started my new job. I've run every day and done two high-quality, high intensity workouts and another long run since then. Most of my runs have been in Central Park, which is a relatively challenging place to run.

With all that on the table, it should be no surprise that when I started toward the Hudson River path for this morning's run, my body rejected the plans. I had 11-12 miles on the calendar. My body had 0-0. At first, I told my body to shut up. I pushed on toward the water, each stride a reminder of who was boss. The protests of my quads, my hamstrings and to some extent, my calves were getting louder. I had to give in. I could tell I am not injured, just tired, sore and in desperate need of a a day off my feet. Less than three minutes into the run, I turned around and walked home.

For many, that's a simple thing to do. For me, it's always tough. It's been more than a month since the last time I took a day without running and that's because when I don't log the miles, I don't feel like the day is complete. As a runner, the most challenging days on my schedule are not the mile repeats, the tempos or or the 20 milers, but rather the off days. Those are the days where I have to go against everything I want to do and do nothing because it's what I have to do.

But what is the alternative? When you run on sore or tired legs, your gait inevitably changes. Any amount of miles you run with that altered gait could turn that soreness into an all-out injury, and then we're not talking about days off. We're talking about weeks.

In a New York Minute

2011-06-17T17:11:00.001-07:00

A little more than two years ago, I gave a red headed runner I'd never met before a ride home from a track workout at Johnson C. Smith University. Through the internet, Facebook and approaching people randomly at races (including an easily excitable bald headed guy and a super fast Brit), a handful of us had met there in search of people who wanted to get a training group started. On the car ride to her house we both bemoaned about our experience in Charlotte thus far. We each had a few close friends, but wanted something more. We wanted a community and we agreed the scene was a impenetrable. We talked about how Charlotte was a speed bump on the route to bigger and better things for both of us. We liked it here, but we didn't love it. We'd both jump at the next opportunity to go some place else.

I'll never forget that car ride for two reasons. First, because it was the first conversation I had with one of my best friends. And second, because we were both so wrong.

I don't have to give anyone a history lesson, but I will expand on the permanent impact being a runner in Charlotte has had on my life. The community that grew from those impromptu track sessions not only introduced me to more people to run with than I could ever imagine, but it introduced me to my Charlotte family. Because of running, I directly or indirectly met roommates, teammates and even a soul mate. The woman who is going to be my wife in less than three months became a part of my world because I am a part of that world.

And oddly enough, that is how I find myself alone in my new Manhattan home right now, walking a tightrope between being thrilled and feeling empty. When we first started dating, Lauren cautioned me of her plan to leave Charlotte, and I told her I'd follow her. It wasn't some cheesy pick up line. I meant it. I knew early on that she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. So, when she was accepted to school in New York City, I knew I had to find a job. I was contractually obligated to work at my Charlotte job until April of 2012, unless I could pay several thousands dollars to dissolve the contract. Lauren was starting school in September and we were prepared to live apart for at least seven months. Still, with such a narrow and highly competitive employment target, I thought it would be OK to start feeling out the landscape of television news in New York.

What I did not expect was to have a job offer at the number one television station in the United States within weeks of putting out those feelers. The offer allowed me to meet the financial requirements to make an early exit from WBTV. Career wise it was a no-brainer; a dream job with a network. Relationship-wise, it was another no-brainer. It turned the tables on who would come to New York first, but drastically cut down the amount of time we'd have to spend in a long distance relationship. I took the job and I start tomorrow.

But that easy decision lead to one of the hardest tasks I ever had to do -- giving up a routine, and a present spot in a group I felt more at ease with than any group of people I have ever been a part of. I know the friends I made in Charlotte will be my friends for the rest of my life no matter what the distance between us. The distance we traveled together both literally and figuratively created an unbreakable bond. But that doesn't make it any easier to know that when I wake up tomorrow to go for a run, I won't be meeting Caitlin somewhere on Morehead Street, Aaron at the Dowd, Paul at Old Bell, Billy popping out of the bushes somewhere or Ben and Megan coming down Sardis Road from their house. No amount of time or new training partners will make me not miss seeing their faces and running stride for stride with all of them or the countless others with whom I shared long runs, short runs and workouts.

You see, the running scene in Charlotte became a community. An open, accepting, inclusive and embracing community. I don't like Charlotte. I love Charlotte. It wasn't just a speed bump. It was a Sunday long run...one of those Sunday long runs where the miles just click by, you don't look at your watch and you never want it to end.

We're talking 'bout the China Grove

2011-06-13T13:12:00.001-07:00

(Yes, I am putting off writing the sappy entry about how I am leaving Charlotte. I haven’t found the words yet.)

The China Grove Main Street Challenge is one of the best local races in the Charlotte-area, and easily a top three 5K. That’s why I penciled it in as my “comeback race” when I started a new training plan in April. Of course, I got trigger happy and ran the King Tiger 5K last weekend. But this Friday night race in Rowan County would be the real return.

I met a crew of the Charlotte Running Club’s finest at the Dowd YMCA right after the 6pm news on Friday night. A caravan consisting of Lauren, Caitlin, John, Boriana, Lat , Matt and Alice made our way up I-85. When we got there, we found a money parking spot on a side street near the starting line and made the short jog over to the registration area. There, we ran into a sea of familiar faces. Pete, Theoden, Allen, Richard…it was like being at a Grand Prix race. Back at the car, we took a series of humorous photos before heading out for a three mile warm-up.

In the vein of superstition, I peed behind the same abandoned building as I chose last year. We also saw a sign outside what appeared to be a dive bar advertising “50 cent Wangs”. One might think it was a mistake, but the opposite side of the sign said the same thing. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a male strip club. But to play it safe, I didn’t go inside to check.

I had heard the horses were coming out for this one, and at the line I saw just how big the stable was. Seven or eight guys from Asheville’s stud team (Ryan Woods, Stuart Moran, etc.), a guy Brett that I thought I might be able to hang with for a bit and Bob Marchinko and Compton were both representing the CRC. As is customary at this race, there was a prayer from a local preacher/runner then the gun went off. The pack of gazelle’s shot out front and I knew I needed to resist the urge to try and hang on to them, even though I would probably only last a half-mile anyways. So, I tucked in with Brett and another guy and we took turns leading the chase pack. The pace felt brisk, but sustainable, however, that first mile is blazing fast. We hit the mile in 5:01 and I didn’t feel totally spent. I thought I was either going to have a great race or a colossal collapse.

China Grove is an out-and-back course. You turn around by circling an orange traffic barrel. I, for some reason, am scared of the barrel and always gingerly make the turn. As I did, I lost a step or two on the other two guys. Heading toward the two mile mark, they were gapping me. I hit the two mile in 10:17, proving that my early pace was apparently not one I could hold. Now, I found myself at a familiar place – alone on the race course. My Garmin indicated my pace was slipping, and my goal was to make sure it didn’t slip too far. Nearing the three mile mark, I saw Mike Beigay and Ben Hovis, both cheering and encouraging me to step it up a little bit. At one point, I had dipped down to 5:30 pace, but I brought it back to 5:25 before the mile clicked.

I crossed the line in 16:23, 11th place overall. I’m not disappointed with the time. Considering I am still building race strength, I’m happy to have cracked 16:30. I think my pacing plan needs some work and that will have to be my focus over the next couple of weeks before Boilermaker. I ran this race in 16:07 last year, but I was coming off the Boston Marathon mileage and I had stiff competition from Paul and Chris to push me a little harder. To show you how much this race has grown, in 2010, my low 16s time placed me 4th. This year, I didn’t even place in my age group! I don’t even remember the last time that happened. There were 9 guys under 16, most of them between the ages of 25-29 with impressive Division 1 college stats. So, you could say it was a pretty humbling experience.

The CRC had some strong showings. Caitlin Chrisman brought home the cash and the trophy on the women’s side with Alice in second and Boriana in 4th. John Compton was the third place finisher with an impressive time of 14:50! Leonard Hilliard got a new PR and was the second master’s finisher. I know Allen got an age group award and Lat won his age group. I am sure there are more.

Jordan Kinley would be proud. Following the precedent he set at last year’s race, I snagged an entire left over pizza for the car ride home. On a side note, let me just say that China Grove has the best post-race food. Pizzas, unlimited fresh fruit, cookies, donuts, bagels….it’s a buffet!

A memorable experience at what will likely be the last race I run here.

Hey Look! A Race!

2011-06-05T17:36:00.001-07:00

I got home from a fairly successful interval workout at McAlpine last Friday morning and told Lauren that I was going to attempt to race the King Tiger 5K the following weekend. We had both originally planned on running the race to raise money for the hospital that helped take care of our friends' daughter. But my plan was to lay low and run at training pace. Following the workout, I had a surge of confidence and curiousity.

I didn't say much to anyone about it. I wasn't trying to be overly secretive, but that just downplayed it in my head. I know, I know. It's just a little local 5K. It's not the New York City Marathon. But, I hadn't serisously stepped to the starting line of a race since Thanksgiving Day.

My goal going into the race -- based on nothing but a couple of workouts -- was to finish in the top 5, break 17 minutes and have a good tune up for China Grove on Friday. I figured I'd hang with the leaders as long as I could and fall off the back when it didn't feel comfortable.

I got in about a three mile warmup and some strides before the race then crammed into the front of the line. When the command was given, I tucked in right behind Paul and a kid I didn't recognize with a UNC singlet on. Being off the scene for a while, I had no idea who he was. Going out I felt really stale and wondered if this was a bad idea. I hit the first mile in 5:10 and Paul started to pull away. UNC kid was clearly fading and I passed him with ease going around the first time shortly after the one mile marker.

Mile two was lonely. I could see Paul opening the gap and there wasn't really anyone close behind me either. I rolled through it in 5:14, and headed for the hills of mile three. At this point, I was pretty confident that barring some sort of disaster a la getting hit by a car, I had solidified my spot in second place. I wasn't racing for time, so I eased off going up the biggest hill on the course, and kept it comfortable on the third mile instead of trying to make up time on Paul. There was no way I was going to catch him anyways.

I hit the third mile marker in 5:25 and was ready for the finish when I accidentally took a wrong turn. I realized immediately that I messed up and was quickly able to correct my mistake. I think it maybe cost me five seconds. Nothing big. I crossed the line in 16:38; the happiest 16:38 I have ever raced. I high-fived Paul, and the girl who had her hand out to take my chip. Sure, it was the same place I finished last time I ran this race (in 2009) and it was 15 seconds slower, but it let me know I was close to being back in racing shape and if I keep up the workouts, I should be back to last year's times in a month or so.

Paul ran awesome, and has been running awesome, so he's going to be tough to catch this summer. Chad and Billy are consistently a force to be reckoned with and Stephen Spada on the podium with a wild kick and a 17:01! I had really missed the Charlotte road racing scene, and it feels really great to be back!

Radio Silence

2011-05-30T12:41:00.000-07:00

I am not ignoring my blog. There is so much I want to say, but all of it relates to or includes something that is still technically a secret. A lot of you already know, but I can't say it publicly yet. Nothing I write without including this piece of information could possibly be genuine or sum up what I am feeling. I hope to have something to say soon...and it will be an outpouring.

Stalling...

2011-05-18T17:29:00.000-07:00

I don’t want this blog to become the long form version of my training log. The theme is supposed to be how running interacts with my everyday life; relationships, career, etc. But, right now, running is the only aspect of my life I think I can discuss in an open forum. So, at least one more entry will be a recap of workouts and an assessment of how things are going. My apologies for the lack of depth and substance.

I am nearly three weeks into my training plan from Mark Hadley and Maximum Performance running, and feeling stronger with each run. Hold that. Let’s go with ‘feeling stronger with each workout.’ I’ve felt like pure death on a couple of recovery runs, which means I am working hard. With each week, the workouts become tougher, yet I continue to complete them and gain confidence that it won’t be long until I race again.

May 7 (16 mile long easy run at Latta Plantation) – This was the first time in a long time Aaron, Caitlin and I ran together. Just the three of us. There’s something special about getting in a run with my two fellow Charlotte Running Club founders. You might think all we talk about is the club when we’re running together. But, you’d be wrong. We don’t talk about the club at all. It’s very refreshing.

May 10 (20X200 with 200 rest at JCSU Track) – I’d have to go back many training logs to find the last time I did 200 meter repeats. But, I am going to see more fast, short intervals this time around since no marathons are in the near future. On paper, 20 by 200 sounds pretty simple. They’re just really long strides right? Wrong. 200 meters is a long way when you are sprinting and I am not sprinter. I want to exceed my expectations in every workout, and in this one, I simply met my expectations. My fastest was 32 seconds. My slowest was 35. I did have lots of horses to try and keep up with. Aaron, Paul, Eric and Alex, who has quite the kick.

May 13 (4.5 mile progressive tempo from 6:10 to 5:50 from my house to the Booty Loop) – One more mediocre workout. I promise the good stuff is coming. Actually, of all the workouts I am going to write about, this one is the worst. I woke up feeling sluggish, not looking forward to doing this one on my own. I was moving slowly during the two-mile warm-up, and dropping down to 6:10 was a shock to the system. I should also point out it was pea soup humid and I was sweating before I got off my front porch. I hit the first mile in 6:06, but quite taxed. By mile two, I was actually on the Booty Loop and clicked off a 5:57. I didn’t think I had much more to give, but somehow hit 5:55. It did not get any better. My last mile, which even though was all uphill, was a disappointing 6:07 and my last half-mile was 5:58 pace. I trudged home, drenched in sweat and blood. Yes, blood. My socks would not stay up during this workout and the friction from the humidity tore up my heels something fierce.

May 15 (14.6 mile steady state run at McMullen Greenway) – What happens when you put Aaron, Paul, Stephen, Matt and I in the same work out? We crush it. We couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather on a Sunday morning. We started out on the Great Harvest course, navigating the hilly 5k at roughly 6:45 pace. The goal was to average somewhere between 6:30 and 6:45 and I could tell early on, we’d be much closer to 6:30 than 6:45. As we headed back into McMullen, the pace slowly descended. By midway, we were in the 6:20s, and moving down. At one point, I mentioned I was going to shut it down at the prescribed 14 miles, but when that point came and went, I was still going. It was Stephen who kept us all going, throwing in surges and pushing the pace. When we finished, it was a real sense of accomplishment and I was happy to hang with such a tough crowd for such a long run. We had averaged 6:25 pace.

May 17 (5X1 with 400 rest mile at Providence Day School Track) – I was concerned that this workout would suffer because of its close proximity to the steady state, but it did not. It was raining pretty good when I met up with Paul, Mike, Billy, Stephen and Nathan at Old Bell. We immediately ruled out doing this at McAlpine, and considered sacking it all together. Fortunately, we chose to stick with it and just moved the workout to the oval. Paul was nice enough to slow down and guide me through the first three right on target. My goal for the whole workout was somewhere between 5:20 and 5:30. We went 5:29, 5:27, 5:23. On the fourth, I was pretty much on my own, but was still able to knock out a 5:20. On the final interval, I was able to manage 5:18. Sure, these aren't blazing fast times, but they are respectable and comparable to some mile repeats I did early last fall.

Riveting stuff, right? Don't get used to it. I have a feeling the next couple of entries will have some real meat.

Week 1: Back to the grind

2011-05-09T13:02:00.000-07:00

As promised, my summer/fall training program started on May 1st and at this point is off to a good start. Although, I am hesitant to say such things because previous expressions of confidence have resulted in broken bones and twisted back muscles. Below are a few highlights:

May 1 (long run at Davidson trails) -- A big group of runners met to run at one of my favorite local running spots. I had 18 on the calendar, but only to prove to myself I could do it. Common sense prevailed and I ended up doing 16. After all, no marathons are in my near future. Plus, finishing the run sooner meant getting to Summit Coffee sooner, and that is the best reward for a successful long run.

May 3 (1,000s at JCSU) -- This was the first time I had stepped out on to a track for a planned workout since October 19, 2010. The absence did not go unnoticed by the gods of the oval. My plan called for 5X1,000 at 3:15 to 3:20 pace. Paul, who was preparing for a race, was kind enough to slow down and guide me through the first four. My legs felt ok, but my stomach reacted poorly to the hot, humid weather, the evening hours (I have become primarily, a morning runner) and of course, the intensity. I did hit all the marks, although my fastest interval was my second one and my slowest was the last one. I'll have to work to turn that around.

May 6 (8 mile tempo at the Landsdowne Loop) -- I walked away from this workout confident that I might not have lost as much as I feared. The plan called for an eight mile progression starting at 7:00 and working my way down to sub 6:00. I met a big group well before sunrise at Old Bell. Billy, Mike and Stephen had planned to do a 40 minute tempo at sub-6:00, while Paul, Alex and I would lag behind. Secretly, Paul and I had schemed to try and catch them. We started at 6:20 while the others took off. In no time, we were below 6:00 and descending. Landsdowne is a tough 2.35 mile loop, which I have noted in other blogs. Still, we were clicking off 5:45s through the hillier sections. Around 6.5, we spotted Billy drifting toward us. At this point, Paul dropped me on his way to 5:30s. I picked it up to 5:40 and set my sights on the unknowing target. Honestly, I didn't expect to catch him. Billy is fast and in good shape. But my will pushed me through. Around mile 7, I pulled up along side of him. We matched stride for stride for 100 yards or so, and then I took off. Billy ended up extending his tempo and doing the 8 miles as well.

For the first week back (Monday-Sunday), I logged 72.1 miles. Included in that total is the CRC Birthday Tequila 400, which I continue to not be good at.

The early assessment is that the endurance remained in tact better than the all-out speed. It will continue to be a week-by-week process, but for now, the summer looks like it will be a lot of fun!

I thought I was going to do a tri, but I am not

2011-05-06T16:59:00.001-07:00

When I was hurt, I swam a lot. A lot. I mean, not Michael Phelps a lot, but coming from nothing it was a whole bunch. I got acceptably good at too. Again, not Michael Phelps good, but if you saw me when I started, you'd agree. I owe a bit of gratitude to the pool. It kept my aerobic capacity in decent shape and that made a world of difference when I started running again. But, for me it was a means to an end. I swam to keep myself in shape when I couldn't run. I can run now, so I don't need to swim. Not only that, I don't want to swim.

Ok, I miss it a little bit. I went from having a hate-hate relationship with it to a love-hate relationship with it. I admit, it can be really refreshing to get out of the pool after a 2,000 meter swim. Every muscle in your body feels like it got a workout. But, I don't miss it enough to justify adding it into a pretty crammed running routine. I know that my running and the maintenance I try to do to keep myself injury-free takes up a lot of my free time. and on top of a 40+ hour a week job, it leaves precious time for me to spend with the people I love and care about. And, I know that because of the 5:30am runs and the stressful workdays, I can be a little testy when the day finally ends.

I am passionate about running. If I can't do it, I am miserable. I will make sacrifices to run. It is my release. Swimming doesn't evoke the same kind of emotions or dedication. That is why it has never been a consistent part of my routine.

I guess it was a bit idealistic of me to sign up for Tri-Latta. It was February. I was hurt. I was swimming a lot and I thought that when I started running again, I'd keep up the swimming. And for a while, I did. When you run 30 or 40 miles a week, that's not too hard. When it increases to 60 or 70, for me, something's got to give. So, with less than a month until Tri-Latta, I have decided that is $70 that will be wasted.

I am racing that weekend. I have marked June 10th's China Grove Main Street Challenge as my first 5K. Paul told me on a tempo run this morning that four or five guys from Asheville are coming down. That means I'd better keep running.

25 Days in Review

2011-04-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

I am not a big "week in review" guy. I don't have a problem with it, it just isn't my style. But, knock on wood, April has treated pretty me pretty well...in comparison with January, February and March who are all jerks. So, I thought I'd break it down for those who are without Athleticore, and for some odd reason, care.

I set April 1st as the beginning of a base-building period (just running -- no workouts), with May 1st being the target for starting a new training plan. Prior to April 1, I had spent roughly three weeks of March working my way up to being able to run every day, starting with three walk-runs a week on the treadmill, easing into outdoor running on pavement, and eventually running 6-7 days a week. As I write today, I am feeling fit and fresh. I've put together a tentative race schedule, and I'm excited to finally get 2011 underway.

April 1-3 -- 26.9 miles. 1hour, 10 minutes of corrective exercises/strength training.
Key Run: April 2nd on the McMullen greenway. I met up with Aaron, Caleb and Yusef. I hadn't run at McMullen since before the marathon in November.

April 4-10 -- 57.3 miles. 1hour of spinning. 1 hour, 16 minutes of corrective exercises/strength training.
Key Run: April 8th I did 8 solo miles around the Dilworth/Myers Park area. It was just an awesome Charlotte spring morning. Crisp, but not cold. The sun was just coming up. I came back feeling sappy about my sport of choice.
Interesting note: I have not biked since this week.

April 11-17: 69.3 miles. 57 minutes of strength/corrective exercises.
Key Run: April 17th I met Jesse in Arlington for my long run. It was good catching up with him because we hadn't run together in years. After he split off, I got to see some nice scenery (Roosevelt Island). I got lost and ended up running an extra three miles, but it was really nice out and I felt great. By far longest run since the marathon and 100% pain free.

April 18-April 24: 64.8 miles. 1hour, 30 minutes of strength/corrective exercises (including one appointment with Mark Kane.)
Key Runs: This was just a solid week. I ran with three different groups Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and got a chance to run with 11 different people (Jordan, Thomas, Michelle, David, Paul, Justin, Kevin, Jason A, Jason M, Aaron, Kahn). We did the Museum Mile course on each run. Saturday the 24th, I was in Lexington, Virginia visiting Lauren's dad for Easter. I hated the idea of getting up before the sun to do my long run, but ended up glad that I did. I logged 16 miles on the scenic and forgiving (soft-surface) Chessie Trail and felt as good as I have felt since early fall. I was effortlessly clicking off 6:45s. At the end of the run, I randomly ran into Jenna W who was out for a run before coaching at the Big South conference meet going on at VMI.

One more week of this "easy" stuff, then it's time to focus on some competitions. I've registered for the Boilermaker, and this year I am actually going to run it. I am looking forward to a little bit of speed work with Cailtin, Meagan and, Alice tomorrow morning. But, the challenge going forward is just as much about being smart and sustainable as it is about being fast and competitive.

Of Jelly Beans and 26th Presidents

2011-04-22T13:44:00.000-07:00

I can tell I am ramping up my mileage by the amount of food I am consuming. Once I pass that 60 mile-a-week mark, the only time I am not eating is when I am actually running. Although last week on my long run, I ate a CarbBoom gel in the midst of a 17-miler (more on that in a bit), but anyone who’s ever popped an energy gel would likely agree that it’s not really food.

Because of the amount of running I do, I can’t really remember an extended period of time when I was not hungry. In fact, sometimes I worry that I have a condition. Perhaps the sensors in my brain that alert my body that I have taken in enough don’t work. Do such sensors even exist? Of course, I’m not complaining. I love to eat and I don't really worry about faining weight. Right now, I am eating honey graham crackers. It’s just one item in the bottomless bag of snacks that accompanies me to work every day.

Now, I try to make sure my snacking…err…grazing…is healthy. But, is there anything better than Starburst Jelly Beans? By the way, this blog will go off on tangents. I rarely buy candy. Ice cream is my junk food of choice. But, I make a yearly exception for Starburst Jelly Beans. When the fine folks at Starburst unveiled this product some years ago (It couldn’t have been that long ago because I remember world where it was either chalky generic jelly beans or the grossly overpriced Jelly Belly), they rendered all other jelly beans irrelevant. End of story. Over the years, Starburst Jelly Beans have become available year round. I don’t recognize this fact. To me, they are a treat to be reserved for the Easter season. That keeps them special. I also don't recognize all these new flavors they have come out with. Tangy, sour, spicy. I'll stick to the original thank you very much.

One of the more humbling moments I’ve experienced in the past month has to do with Starburst Jelly Beans. I was in Target running some household errands when the mood struck me. After picking up light bulbs and vitamins, I headed for the candy section where I was stymied by the absence of the magic beans. A person with more pride would have given up an gone home. Not me. I looked for an associate it and had her point me in the direction of the jelly beans. There are few things more embarrassing than a 27-year-old man asking a Target associate where to find the jelly beans.

It’s one of two times I had to ask for directions as of late. Back to the 17 mile run now. Lauren and I were in Virginia last weekend visiting my sister and her fiancé Brian slash introducing our parents to each other. Sunday morning, I had made plans to drive from Centreville to Arlington and run with Jesse. My plan was to do 14 and Jesse would do the first seven or so with me. That’s how it unfolded. After Jesse peeled off, I made my way toward Theodore Roosevelt Island which sits in the middle of the Potomac just past the finish of the Marine Corp Marathon. I did a loop around the island and started to head back down the asphalt greenway into the residential section of Arlington. I don’t hear directions well. So, everything Jesse told me to do went in one ear and right out the other and I soon found myself approaching 14 miles and in some random neighborhood I had never seen before. Thankfully, I found a gentleman in an Iron Man cap, assumed he must know the area and asked him for directions. Three extra miles later, I was back where I belonged. Was this story interesting? No.

I’m happy to have been back at it for nearly a month now. I’m just logging miles and having fun. May 1st…the hammer comes down.

Oh, what a beautiful morning!

2011-04-09T07:23:00.000-07:00

I woke up one day to realize I was a morning person. Maybe it's my recent "find the beauty in everything, just fortunate to be running" attitude that's making me sappy and nostalgic, but I have decided that the morning hours are the best part of the day.

To understand how drastic of a transformation this is, some history is needed. Mom and dad are polar opposites when it comes to day parts. Mom hates the morning like Beaver hated brussel sprouts. 7am is sleeping in for dad. Mom is a night owl. Dad falls asleep in the recliner. For the bulk of my life, I have been mom.

Little kids are supposed to love the morning right? They wake up before the sun and go bounding into their parents room to energetically announce the start of a new day. Not this little kid. I remember being a groggy third grader when Mom woke me up for school, stumbling downstairs to eat my toast, then falling asleep on the couch to Garfield cartoons until the last possible second.

In college, I'd stay up until two or three in the morning, sometimes not even going for a run until midnight or later. In fact, I remember the one time over summer break when I told my dad I would go to the gym with him and meet up with his 5:45am running crew. The only way I could make it happen was to just stay up through the night. One semester, I signed up for a 9am astronomy class. It entailed going into the pitch black SUNY Oswego planetarium, first thing in the morning. Ask me a question about stars.

But, there are two big reasons to run early in Charlotte. One is the heat. Two is because that is when everyone else runs. I started by joining a group that ran on Thursdays from the Dowd YMCA. I could live with once a week. At first, I thought it was crazy. Then, I started to like the feeling of accomplishing something of that magnitude before the work day even started. Over the course of three years here, I have become a morning runner. One day a week became two or three days a week. That became five, six or even seven days a week. I used to be groggy, stiff and slow. Now, my body feels most comfortable logging the miles at 6am. If I try to run in the afternoon, I feel out of whack. I've done runs as early as 4:30am, just so I didn't have to do them at 4:30pm.

Sometimes I say I am going to sleep in, but my internal alarm goes off around six, and there's no going back to sleep. If I don't get out of bed, I feel like my day is wasting away. The mornings are so quiet, peaceful and crisp. Sleeping through it is like skipping the first chapter of a book or the opening scene of a movie. That must be how dad feels.

Running has become my coffee. If I don't start my day with it, the rest of the day is hard to get through. Don't get me wrong. I still need coffee.

Beauty in the Basics

2011-04-02T21:49:00.003-07:00

I had the chance to run in the Palo Duro Canyon on Monday. It’s the second largest canyon in the United States, appropriately located in Canyon, Texas. And, it is breathtakingly beautiful. Winding my way through the hard pack trails, past stunning rock formations and up and down steep hills, I found myself feeling thankful. There was a chill in the air, not another human being in sight and dead silence. If you think that sounds like the perfect setting for a catharsis, you’re right.

Somewhere during that run, I learned something new about running. Scratch that. Perhaps, I remembered something old. Running, the same sport that gets your heart rate soaring, your sweat glands pumping and your legs aching, can be very relaxing. For the past three years, I have been sort of a running snob – when it comes to my own running, not others. If I’m not doing a week filled with fartleks, tempos and track workouts, I’m not working hard. I can't afford to have that attitude anymore. For the time being all I can and should do is run. 40-60 minutes a day, no special instructions. Just put on my shoes (and my shorts) and go out the door. I don't wear the Garmin. I just run on feel. At first, I was anxious, and now I find it very freeing.

And that is how I felt as I made my way through the Palo Duro Canyon. Free. Running and thinking about how much fun it is. No Garmin. No mile markers. Just one foot in front of the other. It’s the best way to explore a new landscape. When there was something that caught my eye, I stopped and stared. A couple of times nothing in particular caught my eye, I would find myself amazed by my surroundings and I would take a few seconds to stand there on the trail and take in a panoramic view.

The day before, although I had done my own run in the morning, I was excited for the opportunity to join Lauren on her three mile afternoon run. We were running from her grandparent's farm and the entirety of the run was along a cattle pasture. I spent the run coaxing the cows to race us and believe it or not, they did. I kept yelling "moo" at them, and since they responded, I can only assume I am fluent in the language of the bovine.

The point of all this; neither of these were my fastest runs. Neither run was my longest run. But, both are runs I won't soon forget. How many 7, 8 or even 15 milers have I been on during a marathon cycle that I can't remember a darn thing about?

Don't worry, I am not going all soft. I want to run fast. I itch to be back on the track. I want to race and secretly, I am planning races to target. But when you are in a situation that you can't change, you do yourself a much better service when you see the positives of it. Sure, these runs I just gushed about weren't the capstone runs of Boston training by any means, but no run is unimportant. Each one is a step to getting to where we want to be. We all have a goal in mind. Maybe it's to lose weight. Maybe it's to PR in a new distance. Maybe it's to cut down on gas. For me, it's to get back into shape and strenghthen some injured muscles. Sure, there is a big difference between running marathons and running errands. But, we all start at the same place...with an easy run.

How I Kept My Brain Warm During the Winter Months

2011-03-22T07:48:00.000-07:00

Now that -- too use a cliché' -- spring has sprung, my winter reading list recap is overdue. I don’t make new year’s resolutions, but some time ago, I did resolve to try and read at least one book a month. When you are the business of brevity and bare bones facts – which TV writing often is – I find it helps to be constantly reading something of substance. It’s easier to see the big picture on everything when you examine all the pixels on a regular basis. That makes sense right? This is also an attempt to prove that I do, in fact, know how to read. Although there is no proof but my word that I actually completed the following books.

Touch the Top of the World: A Blind Man’s Journey to Climb Farther Than the Eye Can See (Erik Weihenmayer)

I wonder why anyone would want to climb Mt. Everest let alone a man who is completely blind. Yet, Erik Weihenmayer makes a pretty strong case. Actually, this book is less about his climb on Everest than it is about the training it took to get there and other death-defying climbing adventures. Fortunately for the reader, Weihenmayer could see as a child so he is able to paint vivid pictures of his experiences based on the perception he got from his other senses. Admittedly, the only thing I knew about this guy before I picked up Lauren’s signed copy of his book was the embarrassing TV blooper involving his live appearance on a Tuscon television station.

Life on the Run: The Wit, Wisdom, and Insights of a Road Racing Icon (Bart Yasso)

I met Bart Yasso at the marathon expo in Richmond. Before then, he was someone I never really got excited about meeting nor did I understand the reason for his fame in the running community. After spending a couple of minutes with him, my opinion changed. Yasso was genuinely interested in who I was, the Charlotte Running Club and my goals for the next day’s race. When I saw him on the course at mile 20, he cheered for me enthusiastically. His book is a much lighter read than Weihenmayer’s, but still very interesting. Yasso is a true ambassador for the sport, and the fact that he is a not a 2:10 marathoner is a big part of the reason why. I enjoyed and related to his adventures, was fascinated by his transition from alcoholic smoker to marathon runner and took note of the mature way he is handling not being able to run anymore as he ages. This book won’t be winning a Pulitzer, but it’s one every runner should have on their shelf.

Into Thin Air (John Krakauer)

Oddly, before reading this book, I had read Krakauer’s other three subsequent books (“Under the Banner of Heaven”, ‘Into the Wild” & “Where Men Win Glory”). I had been itching to read this one, but had trouble finding it in the book store. I got it from Kristy for Christmas and started reading it on a plane two days later. Despite having no desire at all to climb mountains, I am strangely drawn to books about those who do. This story of a tragic summit of Mount Everest strengthened my convictions to stay relatively close to sea level, but I could not put it down. Krakauer, who was involved in an ascent that killed 11 people, tells the story with such page-turning suspense and detail that I would have read it all in one sitting if I had a day to dedicate to the book. Now, many of the details of Krakauer’s account are disputed by fellow climbers. The late Anatoli Boukreev wrote his own version of the disaster which openly questions and calls out Krakauer. But, raw emotion, anger and grief clearly played a big role in Krakauer’s storytelling (“Into Thin Air” was written just months after the deaths on Everest) and I could understand how in such tragic and long chain of events people could remember things differently. What I don’t like about the book is the blame game that takes place in the afterword, Krakhauer responding to Boukreev’s book. I still want to read “The Climb”, but Everest books are on hold for a while.

In the President’s Secret Service (Ronald Kessler)

This behind the scenes account of the presidential security detail was interesting, but overly political. Kessler, who is a conservative pundit, doesn’t hide his personal disdain for every Democratic president he writes about. While I am sure not all of them were saints, I refuse to believe that every one of them was an inconsiderate, rude and condescending person. I also refuse to believe that the only presidents that had extra-marital affairs were Democrats. What makes it harder to believe is his contrasting practical canonization of every Republican President. The elephant d-bag to donkey d-bag ratio must be a little more balanced. Still, as someone who is intrigued by the goings-on at the nation’s most famous address, I did find some value and interest in this book. Also, Kessler’s bi-partisan message is clear: if we continue to cut the funding for the training and resources of the men and women tasked with protecting our president, we can only assume there will be a disaster.

Unbroken (Laura Hillenbrand)

Let me start by saying that when I finished this book, I declared it to be the best I have ever read. Granted, there are a lot of books that I have not read, but this book was simply fantastic. I asked for it for Christmas because I knew it was about an Olympic runner who ended up a prisoner of war in World War II. It turns out not be about running at all and instead the most gut-wrenching, awe-inspiring story of human spirit and survival you will ever read. Louis Zamperini may not be a household name, but what he endured in the name of this country ranks up there with the greats. His life was meticulously researched and told by Laura Hillenbrand who’s ability to tell a story is unparalleled (see “Seabiscuit”). One of the things I really liked about this book is that just when I thought it had reached a crescendo, there was a whole new struggle for the book’s central character. Not surprisingly, a major movie studio has bought the rights to this book and it won’t be long before it hits the big screen. Do yourself a favor and read it first because there is no way any director can capture the magnitude of this story like Laura Hillenbrand did.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Aaron Ralston)

For being a stubborn, selfish idiot with a silver spoon stuck between his lips, Aaron Ralston is a pretty decent writer. That is assuming his book detailing the time he spent wedged under a rock wasn’t ghost written. I wanted to read this book before I saw the movie (“127 Hours”) because in my experience the book is always better than the movie (exceptions: “To Kill a Mockingbird” & “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” are at least equally as good as their written predecessors). Not that I needed the tale of another tragic accident to deter me from climbing/hiking/spelunking, but this book did just that. It is as much of a story about someone who is unprepared as it is about someone who gets caught (literally) in an area so far off the grid that no one would ever possibly find him. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going and didn’t bring nearly enough food. I’m not spoiling it by telling you Ralston cuts his arm off to escape. Everyone knows that. Yet, it’s still a tough part to read – very graphic. I am not sure if I was supposed to come away from the book liking Aaron Ralston, but I didn’t. Not that I wish this sort of experience on anyone, but with a past of putting innocent people in very dangerous situations, he sort of had it coming to him. Then again, he’s probably made millions of dollars off his story. I still haven’t seen the movie.

Again to Carthage (John L. Parker Jr.)

“Once a Runner” is the bible for anyone who ever ran a competitive race in high school or college. It’s the tale of Quenton Cassidy and his quest for Olympic gold. Not long ago, the book was out of print and runners desperate for a copy were either stealing it or paying big bucks for it on eBay. So, it’s surprising that its sequel, “Again to Carthage” was released with little fanfare. Some friends had warned me that it wasn’t nearly as good, but I wanted to see for myself. About 150 pages in, I was ready to agree. Basically, it was a book about a guy who used to run and now makes a lot of money being a lawyer in West Palm Beach. He does young single lawyer things like drive his boat to the Bahamas to skin dive, eat fancy lunches outside and have sex with single women who are attracted to a young fit guy who is not only an eligible lawyer, but also an Olympic silver medalist. However, the second half of this book more than makes up for the first half. In fact, it justifies it. Quenton decides he wants to make a run at the Olympic Marathon Trials. But, without knowing how far removed he is from the sport, you don’t really understand the magnitude of his endeavor. Once he starts training again, that “Once a Runner” magic comes back. The long runs, the workouts that sound superhuman, even an injury. The description of the actual race is the best fictional description of a marathon I have ever read, and the feelings and thoughts Parker writes about are as accurate as it gets. The book has a twist of an ending that wraps up these beloved characters well. I was sad to know that I was saying goodbye to them for the final time.

Profiles in Courage (John F. Kennedy)

John F. Kennedy’s Pulitzer Prize winning book had been sitting on my book shelf for two-and-a-half years before I finally pushed myself to read it. I am glad I did. It was a good lesson in American history and a look at how the senate has evolved at least from the time of our founding fathers to the time JFK served in the 1950s. I have been constantly frustrated over the inability of our lawmakers to compromise and the perception that they are campaigning from the second they are elected. It was slightly comforting to know that this practice has been happening since Daniel Webster served. Webster is just one of the eight courageous Senators Kennedy claims stepped outside the political boundaries and voted for what was right and not what was popular. The issues these eight men sacrificed their careers for ranged from relations with England to succession in the years leading up to the Civil War and the reconstruction in the years following. It’s a sad reality of our political process. Just because you make the right choice does not mean you’ll be hailed as a hero immediately or even years later in history. Some of the names in the book are names I had never heard before and probably will never hear again. While I think this is an important book, a warning: it’s not a page turner. I fell asleep reading this a couple of times. Fortunately, it is segmented well and when you reach the end of one story, you start anew. My only other problem with this book is that it is a bit insincere. In all likelihood, Kennedy wrote very little of it. In fact, one of his speech writers admits to accepting a large sum of money to do all the work. For me, that taints it as a piece of work only released to enhance Kennedy’s chances of winning the presidency. Ironically this is a complete contradiction to the honesty and courage Kennedy, rather his speech writer, preaches. JFK may be the only person to win a Pulitzer Prize for a book he didn’t write.

Confession of a Rebel Recovering Runner

2011-03-16T13:11:00.000-07:00

I don’t follow the rules of the faux road. That is to say, the treadmill. Let me explain. I am on my second return from injury/to running in as many months. Unlike the last one, this one is a fault of my own stupidity, impatience and immaturity as a runner. Also, unlike the last injury, I am coming back from this one slowly. While I thought I was being conservative in February, I was in fact, not. That brings us to this week. Following a week of nothing (literally, nothing. I wrote a blog entry called “Living Lethargically: A Non-Training Log,” but decided not to publish it) and a week of biking and pool running, I have advanced to a run/walk every other day schedule. Jay from a month ago would have scoffed at the mere suggestion of such a pedestrian program. But this is a new me. This is a me that has spent the last three Sunday mornings at physical therapy, learning must-do daily strengthening exercises for my weakened left muscles. This is a me that has spent one hour a week on an acupuncture table, needles sticking out of my head, arms, legs and feet (a practice I was previously skeptical of). It’s worth noting that none of this was free.

Pride be damned. If I’m told to walk/run, I’m going to walk/run. If I must do it on the treadmill, I’m going to do it on the treadmill. Monday was the first day. The plan was 10 minutes run, 5 minutes walk times four. It was raining Monday, so the YMCA was particularly busy. I found an open treadmill and hopped on, adjusting my speed to a 7:15ish pace. When 10 minutes was up, I reluctantly cranked down the speed to a brisk walk. I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I wanted to explain to everyone what I was doing and why I was doing it, even though they definitely didn’t care. As the end of my second walk approached, I ran into a problem I have never experienced before (because my rule in the past has been, unless there is a tornado outside, don’t run indoors). My 30 minute time limit was about to expire and there was a line forming to the left. People had written their names on the white board to secure a spot. Heck, there was a sign on the treadmill that clearly stated I had 30 minutes. Of course, I wasn’t going to quit my run halfway through. I hadn’t run in three weeks, and I wanted to take in all I was allowed to take. I started thinking of ways I could fool people. Once the belt stopped, how long could I run in place before someone noticed I was running on an non-moving treadmill? Would it be enough time to get it started again?

As the belt slowed, people began to perk up. They could sense the silence of my treadmill. Slowly, they got out of their stretching positions and moved toward me. My legs kept moving. I was furiously pushing buttons. The stupid screen kept flashing “Great workout!” and “Workout summary…” I tried to clear it. It wasn’t working. There was a guy next to me now, waiting. I kept my iPod on, pretending to be oblivious to anything but the music and the movement. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he moved on and I finished my run.

Why am I writing all this? I guess it serves as a confession. I feel guilty about acting so inconsiderately and wanted to get it off my chest. The happy ending is that the gentleman that so patiently waited for my treadmill didn’t have to wait much longer. Scarred by my actions, I decided to alter my schedule. This morning when I was unexpectedly woken up at 4:55am, I decided that since I was up, I might as well just go run then. In another hour, the crowd would filter in. So I did, and there was no one waiting.

Running on the Moon

2011-03-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

The following is the full text of an article I wrote on the Alter G Treadmill for the Charlotte Running Club newsletter.

Spring in Charlotte. It's 65 degrees on a Sunday morning. The sweat on the brow of your running partners has not even had the chance to dry following their two hour leisurely run through the trails. No doubt they talked about everything from who's dating who to the controversy over teacher unions. You, on the other hand, were not there. You were looking for alternate ways to pass the time so routinely filled by the long run. An hour long pool run is planned for later today. You'll follow it with 45 minutes on the bike. If you're lucky, someone will stop by and chat with you for five minutes before moving on to the next machine. Worst case scenario, you count the lights on the cieling one more time -- just in case they added one -- or watch golf on TV. This is the lonliness of the injured long distance runner.

As competitve or recreational harriers, we all have or someday will, live this reality. Whether, it's days, weeks or months, nothing about it is fun. It's an exercise in mental tenacity. Running is our outlet right? How do we get our endorphin fix?

I have been on the injured reserve on and off for the better part of four months. First, with a stress fracture in my ankle and a little later with an acute strain of one of the muscles in my back. If there is an exercise to be done that increases my heart rate or fitness level and does not involve pounding on the aformentioned body parts, I have done it. So, when Queens University Cross Country/Track and Field Coach and American Distance Project Coach Scott Simmons emailed the Charlotte Running Club to tell us a public use anti-gravity treadmill was now available at the Charlotte Running Company, I could hardly wait to get in touch with him.

Through a partnership with Scott Dvorak, owner of the Charlotte Running Company Dilworth location, Simmons brought the $30,000 machine to Charlotte. According to Dvorak, his store is now the only running store in the United States to offer the relatively new technology to its customers.

What is it? Why is it so expensive? Simmons explains it as the opposite of the workout equipment you would find at the International Space Station. While treadmills for astronauts add gravity to allow those in space to maintain bone density, the anti-gravity treadmill, known properly as the Alter G, does the opposite. A runner can reduce their body weight by up to 80%. For example, a 100 pound runner can simulate the impact of a 20 pound runner. This is achieved by using a pressure controlled chamber from the waist down that gently lifts the runner. Currently, Alter-Gs are found at the training compounds of some of the best distance programs in the country. U.S. Olympian Kara Goucher and Marathon World Record holder Paula Radcliffe famously used the treadmills to stay in shape during their pregnancies. Thanks to fundraising, there is also an Alter G on the campus of Queens University.

But Simmons stresses that this endeavor is separate from his work at Queens. He hopes it will be a selling point for competitive runners to choose Charlotte as their training ground. Simmons, who has coached four U.S. Olympic Trials qualifiers and Fernando Cabada to the American 25K record, aknowleges that Charlotte is not as attractive as distance hot spots like Flagstaff, Boulder and Eugene and he says the Alter G is one step toward enhancing the Queen City's profile.

For Dvorak, the investment is worth the potential pay off. "Honestly, when Scott Simmons came to me and asked me if I was interested in partnering my immediate reaction was 'why not?,' Dvorak says, "It's something that's innovative, and it definitely has a coolness factor." Both Dvork and Simmons want to shake the perception that this machine is simply a tool for elites. "I think it could potentially be for anyone," Dvorak, himself an Olympic trails qualifier in the 5K, says. "If someone has invested a lot of time and effort in training for a marathon, and they get a small injury or strain, the Alter-G could potentially allow them to train through the injury without too much loss of fitness."

Petra Simmons, Scott's wife and an Olympic hopeful agrees. "You get aches and pains when you run at a certain level and it doesn't have to be fast or slow," she says. "It's just whatever you can handle." Mrs. Simmons, who is also a runner and staff member at the American Distance project says the Alter G is not just for injured runners. She uses it as a preventative tool. Training to qualify for the Half Marathon World Championships, Simmons says she does a lot of her tempo runs and faster long runs on the Alter G to minimize the pounding on her body. "I don't take too much weight off, maybe 10 pounds, and I am doing things I was doing ten years ago," says Simmons, 37.

Intrigued by what I had seen and heard, I slipped into the special shorts you have to wear before zipping into the pressurized chamber. They're tight and a bit constricting especially for men, which I can see getting a bit irritating on longer runs. However, I am somewhere between a small and a medium and the small size may have been a bit too snug on me. The machine calibrated my weight and once it had locked in, I was free to begin running. I started by reducing my 150 pound weight by about 20 percent. Since my injury is muscular, I thought the more weight off, the better. By a quarter mile into my run, I had reduced myself to about 30 pounds. At first, you feel like you are going to fall, but you quickly become used to the unnatural feeling of weightlessness. A little more than 2 miles, and I was done. Two miles at just below 7:00 pace left me sweaty and feeling like I had actually just done something.

My only reservation was that I sensed my gait had been altered. Petra Simmons confirmed my suspicion. She recommends watching your form, or having someone watch your form for you when you first run on the Alter G. She warns that runners have a tendency to change it up if they are not paying attention.

With $30,000 spent on the equipment, Simmons hopes to make the investment back and then raise money for his American Distance Project, a non-profit. Runners will be charged $70 for an individual session (1 hour) and $175 for a monthly pass (1 hour a day). Sessions can be booked online and are available currently during store hours (M-F 10am-7pm, Sat. 10am-5pm, Sun 1pm-5pm). Runners can use the shorts provided by the store, but are encouraged to buy their own for $75.

Realistically, it is a lot of money for the casual runner to spend, and Dvorak doesn't think it will mean big sales for merchandise in his store. But, that's not the point. "I don't expect it to be a huge draw to the store, but it could certainly help create some buzz," Dvorak says. "I have tried it briefly, and I'm intrigued. It'll be interesting to see how it all plays out."

The Charlotte Running Club plans to have an informational night and session with the Alter G. Stay tuned for details!

What you don't know can, in fact, hurt you very badly

2011-03-01T13:33:00.000-08:00

Before last week, I didn’t even know I had a quadratus lumborum. Now, I am acutely aware. In fact, I have assembled a team of experts who are also acutely aware and working to stop it from rebelling against the rest of my body.

So, that’s the diagnosis. A large muscle that stretches from my spine to my pelvis is tightened and possibly spasming. It causes an intense pain with each fall of my left foot. Until today, I found myself in a familiar place. The pool. Sunday, I aquajogged for 90 minutes. Ask me how that went. I was beginning to get used to and maybe even enjoy the smell of chlorine pouring from my skin.

Monday and today, I started off my mornings with a fairly vigorous swim. As I climbed out of the pool this morning, a thought popped in to my head. “What if this is making it worse?” I thought about all the twisting one does while swimming. Then, I debated internally over whether to share this bit of knowledge with the PT that is treating me. I did, and his answer was both what I expected and what I feared. He told me to shut it down. No exercising until the pain goes away. None. I am going to live how the other 90% of America lives for a while; inactively. I don’t remember the last time I went two weeks without exercising. It’s been at least 10 years. At least. I thought my eight weeks of no running were bad. This is a new kind of death sentence.

In hindsight, this is probably my fault. When I started running after my stress fracture, my hamstring and glutes were both tight. When the tightness went away, maintenance went by the wayside. Little did I know, the pain only went away because that trusty old QL stepped in to carry the load. It held on, God bless it, for dear life until one night, five miles into a run, it didn’t want to work that hard anymore. Now, it needs a little TLC. What it is going to get is a LOT of TLC. There’s already been massage, active release, physical therapy and tomorrow, acupuncture. I’m going to kill it with kindness.

Before anyone has a chance to think it, I know how to put things in perspective. I don’t have terminal cancer. I haven’t lost a loved one. People are dealing with much worse decks. But our personal tragedies are relative to who and where we are in life and this is a big one for me. I am grateful for all the things I have going, and am not asking for an “it could be worse” line. Of course it could be.

Fortunately, there is more to life than running and I am not talking about cycling and swimming. In the midst of all this self-pity wallowing, extended time in water, painful poking and prodding and needles sticking from my body, there’s been some interesting news.

Lauren got into General Theological Seminary in Manhattan. She was stunned. While I was VERY EXCITED, I was not stunned because I knew all along that she would be accepted. I was only surprised that they didn’t drive down to North Carolina and demand she come this instant. Of course, the natural follow up question is, “Will you also be moving to New York?” The answer is “yes.” I just won’t be moving there as soon as Lauren. She starts school in August, and I am contractually bound to Charlotte until the end of March. We’ll be doing the long distance thing for a while, including two months after our wedding on December 31st. And of course, I have to find a job.

In other wedding news, a lot of the planning is done. When you have a wedding on New Year’s Eve, you have to get all your ducks lined up early. I can tell you that our wedding party consists of Aaron Linz, Richard Austin, Stephen and Pierce Robbins, Sloan Crawford, Caitlin Chrisman, my sister Julie and Erin Donovan. I know my ushers are Paul Mainwaring, Jesse Contario, Peter Chambers and Nathan Thomas. The rehearsal dinner will be held at Providence Café. The guest hotel is the Hampton Inn & Suites at Phillips Place in South Park. We are still trying to nail down the official time of the ceremony, but we’re almost there. We’re still hammering out the guest list, but it will be limited to keep costs down.

I’ve been meaning to write that book recap, but I fear this post is already far too long. Instead, I’ll end with a quote that’s gotten me through my slump.

“Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber.”
 Charlie Sheen

A Minor (hopefully) Setback

2011-02-22T09:57:00.000-08:00

Since January 22nd, the recovery has been going well. I am slowly building back up to normal mileage, hitting 47 last week. I have not been doing workouts, but have been keeping about 75% of my miles faster than 7:00 pace. There was a tight hamstring early on, but other than that, no aches or pains. That is until last night. I was running down East Boulevard when I started to feel a little pain in my butt. Since it wasn't my job causing the pain, I knew this was unusual. I was just shy of five miles into a planned seven miler, so I continued on up the hill and through some of the Dilworth neighborhoods thinking I could probably shake it.

By the time I got back onto East Boulevard, I could tell my gait was being altered by the pain. It had now spread into my lower back. I stopped and walked hoping to work out whatever the kink was. When I started running again, it hurt even worse. As I settled back into the pace, the pain alleviated but was definitely still present. Instead of tacking on to get to seven miles, I went straight home and called it a day at a hair over six. At this point, each foot fall sent a radiating pain through the left side of my body whether I was walking or running.

My preliminary investigation finds that this is either sciatica or piriformis. I have never had issues with either of these, so it comes as a bit of a surprise. Treatment options range from ice, heat, massage and PT to surgery. I am hoping this is just a minor tweak and the PT and massage I have scheduled for the next 48 hours do the trick. As I write this, I am lying on a bag of ice. I told my co-workers that normally I would just ice at my desk, but this injury requires me to take my pants off. Not that I am above taking my pants off at work, I just don't prefer it.

As another way to expedite the healing, I am taking today completely off. I have bailed on my scheduled track workout with Paul and Aaron. No pool. No bike. No elliptical. This is something I haven't done since January 28th. It didn't kill me then and it won't kill me today.

Before the pain hit last night, I had planned on writing a blog entry with a review of all the books I have read this winter. It's a solid list, but it will have to wait until next time.

Back on (the) track

2011-02-10T04:53:00.001-08:00

I've never beat around the bush when it comes to the track. I don't like it. There is no special place in my heart for repeated 400 meter loops. Give me a rolling asphalt road or a dirt trail any day. That being said, it was kind of nice to pull into the familiar parking lot that sits above the JCSU track -- adjacent to the giant metal bull -- in West Charlotte Tuesday night.

Actually, Tuesday started with another odd and uncharacteristic first. I woke up at 4:45am ready to limber up, dress up (for the cold) and head to McAlpine for the Miner's Run. But as I limbered, I could tell my legs weren't as fresh as they could be from running both Saturday and Sunday and in an time where caution is king, I changed directions and turned left on Providence toward the Dowd Y pool instead of right toward McAlpine. By 5:20, I was swimming laps. It's the earliest I have ever been submerged in water. By 5:55, I was being kicked out by a gaggle of old ladies who needed the pool for water aerobics.

I've gotten off track (pun). I got out of my car already geared up and launched right into a two mile warmup down to the cemetery and back. By the time I got back to the track and passed by Caitlin and her menagerie of male minions doing a minuter workout, Aaron was there and ready to go. Of course, our workouts were dramatically different. He was doing 3X2000, which for a guy with just nine runs under his belt since eight weeks off, was a bit ambitious. I thought I could probably manage the first 800 of each one, going right into a moderately paced run in between the intervals.

What I wasn't counting on was how good of shape Aaron is in. Adrenaline and the excitement of going fast for the first time since mid-November got me through the first lap with little effort. By the second lap, my body and mind realized just how quick we were moving. It was a shock to the dusty system. Still, I clung to Aaron's shoulder, not backing down. We hit the 800 in 2:34 and I was breathing pretty heavy. Ok, I was panting.

After a two more pedestrian paced laps around the track, I was ready for our next one. We took off with the same force -- shot out of a cannon. Two laps of me holding on for dear life while Aaron seemed to move effortlessly through the turns and accelerate down the straightaways. This time, I pulled up alongside on the final stretch to finish stride-for-stride. Well, I finished, but he had three more laps to go. 2:32. I repeated the motions for number three, finishing in 2:31.

I was winded, but after watching Aaron click off one 75 second lap, I made a go at an unplanned fourth 800. Through the lap, I taunted Aaron with the hopes of being motivational, saying things like "don't let the guy with the broken ankle beat you," and "I haven't run in eight weeks." He was killing the workout, so this was probably useless, but still fun for me. With no expectation of doing anything more than three, I pulled out after a 76 second 400 happy with the small amount of work.

In the grand scheme of things, and in comparison to workouts of the past, this was kind of a joke. But I am measuring success differently right now. I am simply looking for signs of life in the legs. They're there, and that's a good indication that I'm not starting from scratch.

The Slow Return

2011-01-31T12:26:00.000-08:00

I feel like every time I launch into a story about my injury, I start it the same way: "The hardest part about getting hurt is..." Today, I can definitively say that the hardest part about getting hurt is coming back. It hurts. It's soul crushing and it takes an incredible amount of restraint.

I started running again on January 22nd, 17 days after my Doctor told me I could start back when I thought it was appropriate. That was a challenge in itself. The first run was really just a jog. 18:43 seconds at a warm-up/cool-down pace with Caitlin, Aaron, Ben and Billy. But oh, it felt so good. Nearly 19 minutes of bliss. The CRC Board of Directors had travelled to Asheville for our mission and vision retreat and to run the Hot Chocolate 10K. I had really looked forward to the race, but after accepting the fact that I wouldn't be at the starting line, I simply looked forward to being AT the race. Seeing people working the flats and the hills wasn't depressing, it was inspiring. Lauren, Aaron, Allen, Matt, Boriana, Sarah, Scott, Billy...they all had great races and it reminded me that I've had and will have great races too.

What's tough about building back up your strength and endurance is that it is just that --
building. Just like any project, when you rush, you are bound to screw the whole thing up. Runners who've been down seven weeks, can't just start running 80 miles a week again. Instead, you run a fraction of that distance and continue to cross-train to make up for the rest. After that first run in Asheville, I was back to my monotonous, yet important activities. To supplement my tiny running workout, I found myself in the pool at the Asheville YMCA, passing over the same band-aid stuck to the pool floor 100 times. Gross. Sunday morning when everyone got up early to find some trails in the mountains, I got up early and got in my car to make the two-and-a-half hour drive back to Charlotte. I drove almost directly to the Dowd YMCA (stopped for coffee and to see Pepper) where it was two hours of spinning and swimming.

Monday: Spin lift.
Tuesday: Perhaps the best proof of my desparation and lonliness. I woke up at 4:45am just to meet the Miner's Run group by 5:30 at McAlpine, run two miles out with them, then turn around and run back by myself. In the evening, I swam.
Wednesday: Spin, swim.
Thursday: Five easy miles in the morning before flying to Austin, Texas. When we got to Austin, Lauren was nice enough to take me a YMCA, where I swam a mile in a heated outdoor pool. I have to say, I am stunned by her willingness to aid in such an obsesion.
Friday: Off, although Lauren and I rented a kayak and rowed for an hour.
Saturday: 6 miles in Burnet, Texas at sub-7:00 pace. I've still got it! My legs hurt, but my heart feels fine.
Sunday: Only because it was run or do nothing, I did my first back-to-back runs. I only had a couple of beers on Saturday, but I must have drank enough to forget the marathon I apparently ran. Wow did my legs hurt! I limped along, waiting for five miles to be done and over with.

Today it was an hour on the elliptical and a swim. I'll try to run every other day this week. The thing is, running is so easy. You don't have to go anywhere to do it if you don't want to. You don't have to fight off all the people fighting for a machine at the Y. (Side note: it appears people are sticking with their resolutions a little longer than usual. Come on people, it's February! Wendy's is calling your name! Square beef!). You can get up and go, and that's why it's so tough to stop yourself.

On a non-running related note (I can do that, because it's my blog), Austin, Texas may be the coolest city I have ever visited. There is music everywhere, and good music to boot. Every eatery we walked or drove by looked like one I'd like to stop at. As we sat at an outdoor coffee shop listening to a jazz/bluegrass band on Sunday afternoon, I found myself wondering how a city like Austin landed in a state so incredibly different.

But it wasn't just Austin itself that was awesome. We were there to see Lauren's family. It was her granddad's 80th birthday and we celebrated at two lake front cabins about an hour outside the city. For me, it marked the first time I'd be meeting all the aunts, uncles and cousins I'd heard so much about. I have to admit, it was intimidating and at times overwhelming. But it was also really cool. I'm sorry I don't have a more eloquent word, but that's what it was. I'm already looking forward to getting to know everyone better and becoming part of their family.

Please forward my mail to the Dowd YMCA

2011-01-15T10:48:00.001-08:00

The injured runner has two choices, both of which include a certain amount of wallowing in self-pity. He can chose to be defeated by the injury and recover with weeks of armchairs and reruns of "How I Met Your Mother", or he can chose to find creative ways to keep the injury from keeping him down. You can probably guess which one is more diffulcult.

Since beginning my cross-training regimen five weeks ago, I have been telling people that being injured takes way more dedication and willpower than being healthy. Maybe when I can run again, I'll forget all this. But, in the past month plus, I have concluded that dragging yourself to the gym for a spin class, a lap swim or an hour on the elliptical machine no matter what time of day, is exponentially harder than getting up for a 5:30am run where you know you're at least going to have the support of friends.

But oddly enough, it's the promise of the latter that keeps me trudging to the Y every day. Whether it's true or not, I tell myself that if I work really hard to maintain fitness, it will be easier to keep up with the group of runners I miss running with so much.

The Y is a quirky place. I know this because I spend anywhere from two to three hours a day there. In my hours of cardio substitutions, I have been on a bike in between two very large men, both of which were singing at the top of their lungs to songs that only they could hear. I have been in the pool alone on the snowiest, iciest day of the year, aquajogging with such intensity that I am sure the lifeguard thought I was some sort of lunatic. She may have been right. I have been adjacent to many an exerciser who is either immune to deodorant or simply chooses not to wear it. I have a reguarly attended a spin class tought by a the world's biggest Alan Parsons Project fan who kicks off each session with one of their weird progressive rock tunes.

Yesterday, I came home from a morning of cycling and swimming with a stupid idea. I would get up the next morning and do my own triathlon. I'd swim, take a spin class and aquajog. My attempts to recruit fellow indoor triathletes failed, but I charged on. A least I knew I would win. At 8:15am, I yelled *bang* and then slowly eased into the pool to begin the swim. Since this was my own triathlon, I would determine the distance. I figured a mile was sufficient, and started counting the lengths until I hit 72.

I hopped out of the pool with 15 minutes to spare before the 9am spin class. Thanks to the annual New Years Resolution rush, bike space was slim, but AJ had signed me up while I was in the pool. I attacked the bike with vengance, upping the resistance when the instructor said and not just reaching down and pretending to turn the dial as I have been known to do. I burst out of the saddle when we hit a "hill" and made sure the RPMs on the bike stayed exactly in the prescribed range. By the end of the class, I was drenched in sweat. Since the class was only 45 minutes, I kept pedaling to get in an even hour.

Transition two was me walking out of the cycle room, down the stairs to the pool locker room and changing back into my wet jammers.

The ability to aquajog is a fairly recent development. I saw a second doctor about a week ago, who painted a much prettier picture of this injury than the original physician's assistant I saw. After examing the x-rays, he added elliptical, walking and aquajogging to my repetoire. He also took me out of the boot. So, here I was at the last leg of my triathlon. Anyone who's ever aquajogged knows it's a mind-numbing activity. One has to do something to segment it. I went with a 5-4-3-2-1 x 2 interval workout. As I hit the intervals, I could feel my heart rate soaring, and despite being mostly submerged in cool water, beads of sweat were forming on my forehead.

As my stopwatch hit one hour, I jumped out of the pool feeling victorious. Obviously, there was no medal, no high-fives, and I chose not to throw my hands in the air out of fear of looking like an idiot. But I did have a big smile on my face. I wasn't happy for exercising for three hours. I've done that before and the workouts have been harder. I was celebrating the triumph of mind over matter. Each time I finish one of these workouts, which give me no adrenaline rush and are usually done with no company, I am amazed I was able to stay in it. I am not trying to brag, but to illustrate that the pull to just stay in bed, or just walk the dog and call it a workout are so strong sometimes that it takes willpower I didn't know I had to overcome it.

As for the injury, it's progressing. As I mentioned, a new doctor and CRC member took me out of the boot. He left the return to running up to me, which is a dangerous delegation. But I am trying my best to handle it like a mature athlete. With pain as my guide, I will attempt to run again on January 22nd when the crew goes up to Asheville for a 10k. All I plan to do is jog the warmup, then slip into the Y for something supplemental. Pain will be my guide. If it hurts, I'll stop. Caution is key. I will run Saturday but probably not Sunday. Monday might get two or three miles then Tuesday it's back to the pool. As eager as I am to get out there, I am eager to get out there and stay out there.

And Just Like That, My Running Days Were Over.

2010-12-27T12:17:00.000-08:00

Forrest Gump. And not forever. Just for now. I'm in week three of no running. Not that I am counting, but this is day 18. (If you don't count my ten foot run down the hall of my house) I think by this point, I've made peace with it. Yet, when I see someone running down the street, I have to look in the other direction so I don't get too depressed. The other day, I got frustrated with Lauren when we were in New York because she didn't want to run. I thought about how if I had the choice, I'd seize the opportunity to gear up and go feel the cold air on my lungs. Her reasoning, by the way, was completely sound. The roads and sidewalks were pretty icy and running would have been risky to say the least.

I am using this down time as a chance to try some other things. That's proven to be a bit difficult because I have to limit the useage of my ankle, but I am getting creative. I started pedaling on the old man bike at the Y...boot and all. You know what bike I am talking about. It basically has a recliner on it. For the first time in my life, I brought a magazine with me and actually read it as I pedaled away. If you can read while you exercise, your workout probably isn't that strenuous. I've never knocked off a chapter of the latest novel I am reading while doing mile repeats on the track. After a couple of days of that bike, I had pretty much had it. I decided to test my legs on bike on which the seat was backless. I found it feel much more like riding a real bike. Still, I can't crank up the resistance and stand up, but at least I can break a sweat.

My swimming style is infamous. Many who have seen it have laughed, possibly felt concern. Despite all that, I have been pretty consistent with my trips to the pool. The first two attempts, one with Jackie, another solo, I swam for one hour. I just jumped in and swam. The challenge, besides the fact that I have no idea what I am doing, is that I can't kick. Any sort of flexing of the ankle adds stress to a bone that is trying to heal. So, I put a bouy in between my legs and just rely on my arms. Every time I swim, I can't help but fixate on the energy I am wasting. I knew I was doing something wrong, but I needed someone to tell me what it was. Bring in Billy Shue. Billy spent an hour with me in the pool at the MAC on Wednesday, teaching me drills and giving me one simple tip for improving efficiency.

Sunday, a breakthrough. Lauren and I met Mr. Contario and Jesse at the Newark High School weight room to use the equipment. After two days of the stationary bike at the village gym, I was ready to change it up. I got on the cross-trainer (which is like an elliptical/stair climber), telling myself that if I felt even the slightest pain, i'd hop off. An hour later, and the best sweat I had experienced since running, I was pain free.

I have a follow up with Caitlin's doctor on January 6th. I am hoping he will give me the green light to try some light running by the end of the month. He's a member of the running club and a triathlete, so I can only assume he knows the mental toll an injury like this takes on someone as insane as myself. Of course, I know he's no miracle worker. If it's still broken, it's still broken.

In writing, December looks like a bad month. I got a stomach bug that knocked me out for two days. I broke my ankle. Right now, I am battling a cold that has robbed me of sleep, a clear airway and a speaking voice. But in the grand scheme of things...in a life that doesn't always revolve around running, December has been a great month. Lauren and I got engaged on December 21st. She is much better at telling the story than I am, but suffice it to say, we are both really happy to be officially spending the rest of our lives together. We both got to spend Christmas with my family in Newark. Lauren and my family are constant supporters who love me hobbled or not. And I love them. It's those things, those events, those people that remind an injured athlete that not all is lost. It's how you get through breaking your ankle without breaking your spirit.

Das Boot

2010-12-14T19:08:00.000-08:00

If you missed it on Facebook, I am hurt. Not like, sore hamstring or tight calves, but rather, fractured ankle. So, really hurt. I went to OrthoCarolina this morning, hoping the doctor would laugh at me, ask me why I was wasting her time with a silly little sprain, and tell me to go "run on home." Instead she pointed out a hairlike line on my fibula three times and fitted me for a cumbersome, uncomfortable and quite frankly ugly, air boot. Oh yeah, and she told me I wouldn't run for another 12 weeks. I think she could tell how dejected I was.

Obviously, when you walk into a room with a boot on your foot that resembles something an astronaut might wear, people ask you what happened. I can tell them that I have a stress fracture in my fibula and that is about it. I have no idea what happened. In the two months leading up to December, I was running 90-100 miles a week. Since running the Richmond Marathon on November 13, I have run a maximum of 65 and it was a gradual build up. So, how I developed the fracture is a mystery.

Oddly enough, the doctor asked me about my supenation. I have always been diagnosed as a pronator, so this came as a surprise to me. One of the first things I will do when I can run again is get my gait reanalyzed and look into changing up shoes. But that is not going to be happening anytime soon.

What can I do? Not a whole lot. I have been told not to do anything that puts weight or stress on the ankle. That eliminates cycling and the elliptical, where are my two top choices for cross-training. It does leave me the option of the pool, or as I like to call it, Aquahell. I'm not a good swimmer. Lifeguards try to save me because I look like I am drowning. Besides swimming, I can aquajog. Is there anything more boring? I will attempt to recruit some friends to spend at least some of the time treading water beside me. I can also do strength and conditioning. Of course, I don't have a lot of room to grow in the muscle department, but I can do my best to add to my already bulky physique.

I think 12 weeks is excessive. I have to use the boot for five more weeks, and then I go back for a check-up. I have never heard 12 weeks to recover for a stress fracture. I hope to be logging miles...albiet just a few...by the first two weeks of February. Until then, if you want to find me, I'll be in aquahell.

Injured Runner finds Time to Write, Rant

2010-12-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

It started with a tiny pain on Wednesday night. I was doing my second run of the day; a four mile loop along the light rail line. I got home and my left ankle hurt just a little bit. No biggie. As I ran with the Dowd crew Thursday morning, it got just a little bit worse with every step. Four miles in, and I knew nothing good could come out of continuing to run. So, I turned around and made the long walk/jog back to the YMCA. 36 hours later, I set out for my pre-race run and didn't even make it to the end of the street. I have no idea what is wrong with me. My left ankle throbs with every step. It even hurts as I sit here. But, it's not swollen. I am going to make a doctor's appointment first thing Monday morning.

The bad news is, I had to drop out of the USA Track and Field Club Cross Country Championships which were at McAlpine on Saturday. Also, it appears there is a lot of spin classes in my future. There is nothing more mind-numbing. Although, going to spin class at 1:15 is better than sitting here watching Atlanta roll over the Panthers today.

The good news is, it's December. I was taking this month easy anyways. Aaron got to run as me at the club XC race and got himself a new PR.

Tyler let me borrow his cycle cross bike Saturday morning, so I could ride around the Thunder Road Marathon course. Congrats to everyone who ran. I don't want to list any names because I'm bound to forget one, but I do want to mention Lauren's PR performance in the half-marathon. I am really proud of her.

And that is what I want to rant about. Not Lauren. Thunder Road. Even though, I have only run the half-once, I think this has the potential to be a great event. The expo is well-done, the course is challenging and scenic at times, there are friendly volunteers and a unique theme that mixes foot racing with car racing. But it seems like the city sees it as a big burden. There is no better proof than the city's forced moving of the event from December to November. The December date was one of the things that made this race attractive to runners. It only competed with one other regional marathon and no major marathons, and was a great opportunity for people who wanted to close out their year with another 26.2. Now, it will be up against marathons like New York, Richmond and Outer Banks. The reason: Charlotte's shoppers complained about the traffic. I know people complain about traffic in every city, every time there is a race, but it is absurd to me that this city caved. We are talking about an event that pours money into the economy and brings thousands of people into an uptown area that is constantly begging people to visit. Is that not worth four hours of detours one Saturday morning in December? The race doesn't even go by any major malls.

Other cities embrace their marathons. There are always a handful of grumblers, but for the most part, it's a chance to show some city pride and welcome visitors. Obviously Boston and D.C. make a big deal out of their marathons because they are on the top of a lot of people's lists. But so do similar sized cities with similar sized races like Richmond. On race day morning, the Richmond Newspaper had a story about the marathon on the front page. The night before, the local TV stations did extensive live coverage. The day after, one station did a half-hour recap show. What kind of media coverage did Thunder Road get? It wasn't even mentioned on the front page of our paper (although Theoden's blogs were prominently posted on the website), and besides a brief interview with the race director and defending champion (on the show I produce), it only recieved brief mentions on the local news. That's really the only difference to be me between Richmond and Charlotte. The expos are about the same. The volunteers are just as friendly. There is a little more crowd support, but not much separates these two events. Unfortunately, the one major disparity is a very noticeable one.

It doesn't make sense because Charlotte is a very active community. We have a thriving running and triathalon scene. Yet, we can't support what many consider to be the holy grail of long distance running. The rest of the country is embracing marathon running. It's participation has soared 10% in just one year. Charlotte has a chance to get on board that train before it leaves the station, and we have a well-organized, top caliber event that will gladly lead the way. But until the city sees it as a boost instead of a bother, it can't possibly reach its potential.

The Run Around over my Run Around Richmond

2010-11-21T18:01:00.000-08:00

My recap of the Richmond Marathon concluded with a mystery. Will he be placed in the official results, or will his time only exist in his head forever? The answer is the former. However, it didn't come easy.

The pre-race dinner should have been a precursor. When the attendant at the front desk of the Day's Inn told us the hotel restaurant was having a pasta dinner, we thought, "What could be easier?" So, instead of venturing out into the town, we simply made our way downstairs. I expected there to be a buffett with spaghetti, meatballs, sauce, bread, salad, etc. But, when we walked in there was no buffett. We sat right down since the place was half-empty and when our waitress came over, we immediately ordered. We both wanted the spaghetti special. Easy enough, right? Wrong. Now, I am no chef, but I have cooked spaghetti. The longest its ever taken me to make spaghetti is eight minutes. That's including the amount of time it takes to get the water to boil. When 20 minutes passed, both Aaron and I started to get a little annoyed. We ordered bread to fight off the hunger. It came...15 minutes later. 40 minutes and still no spaghetti. The waitress kept coming by and saying things like, "it's almost here," and "I've never seen it this busy." There were maybe 15 people in the restaurant. Not to mention it was no secret there was a marathon in town the next day that started four blocks from the hotel. Perhaps some planning might have been beneficial. At the 50 minute mark, the pasta arrived. Instead of being plentiful, it was puny. I think both of us finished the entire plate with the side of mystery meat balls in 1/10th of the time it took us to get our food. Still, hungry and overcharged considering the service and the portion size, we left in search of more food. We found ourselves at a minimart down the street. To say it was shady would be a compliment. Bars were on the doors and windows, and the odor of gasoline inside was so strong I thought the whole place might blow up were my cell phone to ring. (Note: it was not a gas station.) Fortunately, we had already bought peanut butter at a real grocery store. But, we needed jelly and bread to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We found some high fructose corn syrup concoction and some suspect looking bread and walked back to the hotel. Paul could only laugh when he came back from his nice dinner with his family to see us stuffing our faces with PB & J.

That's my anecdote.

My calls and emails to the Richmond Marathon organizers began roughly 17 seconds after I learned I had been dropped from the results. Since it was a Saturday night, I got no answer. Sunday was much of the same. On Monday, I finally got through to a person. They said they understood my concern and the problem would be fixed in one to two days. Later that day, I recieved the same response in an email. One to two days. Tuesday, I got an email from the timing company. They weren't so optimistic. I was told they would begin looking into the matter, but would need photographic evidence and testimonials from other runners. Sigh. They really suspected I cheated. I again told them that if I were going to cheat, I would cheat to a place higher than 11th. Heck, there was cash five deep. I thought they suspected me not only of cheating, but also of being stupid. Coach Hadley wrote them a strongly worded email, Paul affirmed that we ran the first seven miles together. I sent pictures and the electronically generated email Caitlin got when I finished. By Thursday, I was starting to wonder if this race was never going to officially exist for me, and I had poured months of work into something I had nothing to show for. It was a daunting feeling. Friday, I was on my last nerve. I called both the race director's office and the timing company. I left messages at both places. The timing company had an assistant call me back to say it might be several more days. In the midst of my anger, I saw that the Richmond Marathon Facebook page had reposted Theoden's blog about all the Charlotte runners and labeled it, "Charlotte Runners love the Richmond Marathon." Maybe I shouldn't have commented, but I had to. I wrote that not all Charlotte runners loved the Richmond Marathon, this one in particular. I put it right there on their public page that I was disappointed with the way this was all handled. They wrote back within minutes, clearly irritated with my squeaky-wheel attitude. That must have been the right move because it was that afternoon I got confirmation that my time of 2:40:28 was official and would be placed in the results. It's still not online, but it is supposed to be there Monday or Tuesday.

Now, I can head back up to Richmond on April 2nd for the Ukrops Monument Avenue 10K.

Reflecting on Richmond

2010-11-15T14:29:00.000-08:00

It's been so long since I have updated. After work and training, I couldn't justify "writing in my blog" as an acceptable way to use what was left of my time. But now that the most recent major mountain has been cleared and I'm in a valley (at least running-wise), I think I can spare a few minutes.

I started training for Richmond in June with a new coach, a new training philosophy and a new concentration on mileage. So, it was sort of surreal to be standing at the starting line Saturday morning. I lined up next to Paul and Aaron, all of us decked out in CRC gear. Before the gun went off, I decided that although it was only 38 degrees, I'd ditch the arm sleeves and the hat and just go with gloves to keep me warm. This proved to be a good move. My goal for the race was sub 2:40. I knew I was in shape to do it, but I have always had trouble hanging on. My hope was that my increased mileage would make me stronger at the point of the race where I usually start to falter. About a week earlier, Paul had convinced me to aim for 2:35 with him. I thought it was possible, but everything would have to go perfectly for that to happen.

When we were given the command to start, Paul and I immediately headed out together, settling into a pace that ranged from 5:53-6:00. The first couple of miles were flat, so this seemed effortless. Not to mention, it was of course, the first couple of miles. At mile two and a half, we made the turn onto beautiful Monument Avenue where Lauren, Kristy (her mom) and Pepper were cheering loudly for us. It was great to see them! Matt rode by on his bike shortly after, and I commented to Paul that the police would probably kick him off the course since no bikes were allowed. Not far down, was Lisa, Emily and Sophie Mainwaring with signs for Paul and cheering loudly. We hit the 10K at 37:02. This will be an important point later on.

As we neared mile five, my stomach started to get that familiar "rock feeling" that I had been experiencing the past couple of days. In fact, it had kept me out of work on Friday. I can't quite describe it, but it sort of feels like a bad side stitch. It wasn't debilitating, but it did have a mental impact on me and there were a couple of times I found myself clutching my side. As we rolled over a very pretty bridge into the first "Party Zone" near mile seven, I let Paul open up on me and decided to be a little more conservative since the race was still young. I'll never know what would have happened if I hadn't made that choice.

Miles 7 through the half-marathon mark were fairly uneventful. 7-10 are probably the most picturesque sections of the course. It's a country road the runs along the James River. To the left is the water and to the right are beautiful homes. At this point, I was on my own. Once out of the neighborhood, for the first time in the race, runners hit some pretty serious hills. I wondered how much my pace would suffer here, but was surprised to see I didn't slow down much, keeping every mile near 6:00 pace.

At the half-marathon mark (1:18:39), a guy in a yellow Brooks singlet rolled up next to me. We got to talking and realized our goals were similar. We decided to work together. During the course of our chatting, I learned he was a former Navy guy who currently lived in Syracuse, NY. Since I lived in Syracuse for quite some time, it gave us something to chat about. I was glad to have him as we crossed back into downtown Richmond over the mile-and-a-half long Lee Bridge. Many Richmond veterans call that the worst part of the course, and it just might be. It's a steady incline where you can see an endless portion of the course that reminds you just how much longer you have left. Standing at the end of the bridge was running-legend and inventor of the painful Yasso 800s track workout, Bart Yasso. Despite the fact that we don't know each other, it was still nice for me to see a familiar face.

I dropped my Syracuse friend as I grabbed what turned out to be a bone dry wash cloth at mile 17. I anticipated it being cold and wet, but when I wiped it against my sun-cracked face and lips, it was the opposite. I was also getting sick of my CRC sweat band. It had done its job and was now weighing an enormous amount. I thought I was going to see Lauren and Kristy at 18.5 and thought it might be funny to toss my sweaty apparel at them like a rock star. When mile 18.5 came and went, I tossed the sweat band at mile 19, and I doubt anyone saw it.

Following the last and most punishing climb of the race, Matt was standing at mile 20 and reported to the others that I was beginning to look like I was working. He said something like, "this is where the real race begins." Truth be told, for the first time in my four marathons, I felt like I was working the entire race. Despite being consistent, I at no point felt "dialed in". Granted, the other times I felt dialed in, I was pacing poorly, but at least there was a period of comfort. The first ten miles or so had felt like a Saturday morning tempo run that wasn't going smoothly.

I had truly hoped to be ready to roll the last 10k. The course is very forgiving in the final stretch, if you have anything left to be forgiven. I, however, knew that I was going to be fighting to the finish. My pace had begun to slide off starting at 17, recovered at 20 and started sliding again at 21. Just after the 21 mile mark is the last gel stop. I was counting on it heavily because I had already taken the two Carb Booms I was carrying with me. I ran up to the guy handing out Vanilla Acel Gel and the gel packet slipped right out of my hand. In hindsight, I should have just gone back and grabbed it. I could have used the extra energy and calories to make up the time. Instead, I kept going and a long list of possible scenarios played out in my head. Did I just buy myself a first class ticket to the wall? I was so worried about not getting the necessary calories to complete the final five miles, that I considered taking advantage of a junk food stop at mile 22. They had Coca Cola, pretzels, cookies, etc. But, I decided against it since that would have been a totally foreign experience on an already weakened stomach.

With the miles dwindling down, I find myself in a familiar spot. There's some bargaining with God that happens. I question if I could gather up some strength if I walk for just 25 seconds. I tell myself "at the next mile, there's only three more." The marathon is a big head game. You have to convince yourself that all the easy ways out, all the hypothetical concessions you make when you're in a world of hurt will turn into giant regrets as soon as you give in and concede. You can't go back. So, you keep running.

At mile 25, you always gather a little more strength. The finish is within an arm's reach. I was happy to see a loud cheering crowd again coming onto Cary Street in downtown Richmond. Leonard, Kevin, Laura and Allen who had all run great in the half-marathon were a huge support and Lauren and Kristy were cheering loudly at the finish. The final 800 meters is a steep downhill, and I wasn't sure if it would hurt worse if I continued running, or if I tucked myself into a ball and rolled down the asphalt over the line. I went with the former. I crossed the line at 2:40:28. It's a new PR, 11th overall and second in the 25-29 age group.

I'd say I'm happy and satisfied. The competitor in me wonders how much better I could have done. My mileage was the highest it's ever been. My workouts were great. I was super conscious of my hydration and nutrition. Shouldn't I have broken 2:40? Maybe, but the fact is, I didn't. I don't think I'll ever not be excited by a new PR. But, I also don't think it's possible for me to run a race and not question if I could be faster. I know one thing; I was completely and utterly exhausted both mentally and physically. It was great to see Paul who had an incredible race, finishing in 2:35:11 and Aaron not far behind me in 2:41:32. PRs for everyone. We had all trained together day in and day out. We were up at 5:00am, we were in bed at 9:00pm. We sacrificed, our wives (and in my case girlfriend) sacrificed.

At press time, I am going back and forth with the organizers of the Richmond Marathon. While I was in the preliminary results, I was deleted from the final results. I imagine it's because my chip malfunctioned and didn't register me at 10K or 20K. My only guess is that they think I cheated, but I told them on the phone that if I were going to cheat, I'd cheat myself into cash. Just this afternoon, I was assured all would be fixed in the next one to two days. I won't rest until I see it in writing. The only bummer is that I always buy the paper the day after the race, and my name was left out of the Richmond paper. Maybe I'll write it in later.

I am pretty sure I am going to shelve the 26.2 distance for a little while. Maybe a year. It's not that I don't love it anymore, it's that I am young and want to focus on other distances while I still can. I think I have some soft PRs at 5K, 10K and half marathon and would like to take some time to improve those marks. I'd also like to have more time to spend with loved ones. The marathon can be a selfish endeavour, and that takes its toll on the people you care about most. That's the great thing about the Charlotte Running Club and the Charlotte Running Community as a whole. Everyone supports each others' goals, helps each other reach their potential and is there to pat you on the back when you cross the line. I couldn't be luckier.

Recapping Life....

2010-09-13T08:12:00.000-07:00

It's been 19 long days since my last post. Not 19 long days for the reader because I doubt not having my blog to read made anyone's day any longer than usual, but 19 long days for me. Let me retract that before I swallow my toes. It's been 19 days since my last post. 15 of them were long. Four of them were in the Bahamas and they were glorious.

I am able to update now thanks to the U.S. Open. That's right. Tennis is affording me the chance to open up a blank blog page and ramble about what's happened since August 24th. Today was supposed to be the big day. It was the date on all of the promos. It was a date that's mere mentioning made butterflies flutter around my stomach. WBTV was to launch it's 4pm newscast this afternoon, a project that has been the cause of many sleepless nights, lunchless days and tear-filled evenings since it was first handed to me several months ago. But, last night it rained in New York City. So, instead at 4pm today, WBTV will be airing the final match between Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. I'll be doing laundry.

It's sort of an "I told you so" moment for me. Before leaving last Friday, I mentioned the possibility of this pre-emption to my bosses, but they laughed at me. Then, after sitting out the annual Charlotte Running Club beer mile last night in fear of catching a hangover, I found my prophesy had come true.

As I said, the Bahamas was (were? - It's only one country, but apparently multiple Bahamas. Not sure which conjugation is best used here) glorious. Thanks for asking! When I go on vacation, I like seeing the sites, taking in the culture, talking to the locals. That's not really an option at a place that's sole purpose is to be a get-away for Americans. That forces you to relax. Lauren and I spent the entire four days lounging on the beach, reading, swimming, running and gasp -- WATCHING TV! We watched the entire broadcast of the Emmys! That's not even a show I'd watch if we were home. I won't bore you with the tale of our one bad restaurant experience (think bad fish, cash only and terrible service) because it's only a tiny blemish on what was the perfect vacation. Perfect weather. Perfect timing. Delicious daiquiris and the best possible company.

I'm knees deep in the specific phase of my training for the Richmond Marathon. Thus far, it's gone quite well. The first two workouts, a cut down run on the track and a 10 mile tempo, were spot on. The tempo is especially notable, because I don't think I am exaggerating when I say it was the best workout I've had since I started training hard again. Paul and I ran 10.5 miles with a pretty solid group around Huntersville before starting the tempo portion of the run. Then, we switched out shoes, took some fuel and took off. Initially, I thought it might be a struggle to keep the pace below 6:00. We hit the first mile at 5:40 and I thought that might be the beginning of my death sentence. But as we clicked off mile after mile, I realized I might make it through this thing, and it might be a darn good run. We ended up finishing the tempo in 58 minutes flat which is an average of 5:48 per mile. Certainly can't complain about that. Nathan circled back with bananas and Gatorade which were much needed. He's also responsible for the photo of Paul and I on Old Statesville Road.

I was supposed to be on the Blue Ridge Relay team this weekend, but a scheduling issue, which I won't elaborate on here, is forcing me to sit it out. I'm beyond disappointed, but know my team will do great. I'm trying to see the positives. No stinky vans. No sore legs. No bear attacks. Instead, I'll be running the Davidson half as a training run.

Now, it's off for a little run around Charlotte. I have to make for an unhealthy weekend of Greek Food, fried chicken, pizza and ice cream.

Days Off, Dreadmills, Drumlins, Dad & Mom and Dumb Falls

2010-08-24T17:47:00.000-07:00

Since last Monday, I have on five occasions made a mental note to update my blog. Each time, I have been unable to find the time to do it and as a result, we end up with a "super entry". Chronologically, I want to recap my struggle to take a day off from running, my rare run on a treadmill, a hilly race, a visit from my parents & Auntie Ann and a bloody post-workout fall. I will attempt to tell them in short story fashion for the sake of brevity.

Chapter 1: Days Off

I struggle with the concept of rest. I am aware my body needs it. Even my mind tells me I’m tired and to take it easy, but the obsessive compulsive in me fights back. I found myself in this situation last Wednesday. I had come off three straight weeks of 80 miles and had a race coming up. I hadn’t taken a day off from running in 30+ days. It was time. These situations always unfold the same way. Leading up to the planned day off, I bragged about it and built it up in my head. “I’m going to sleep in and eat a big breakfast,” I’d say to myself. “I’m going to go straight home and eat a big dinner, maybe watch some TV.” Then, Wednesday arrives. All day, I think about how great it would be to go for a run. Even though my ankle is feeling a little sore from a tweak on a hill workout the previous day, I consider doing just an easy five or six. Ultimately, scheduling saves me. I’ve already missed the morning run, and I don’t enjoy running in the evening heat. I compromise and do one hour of lifting instead.

Chapter 2: Dreadmill

Thursday morning was not a planned day off. I had 12 miles on my calendar, 6.2 of which would be a preview of Saturday’s race course. I woke up at 5:05am, roughly 36 seconds before the deluge. It was already lightning and the thunder was getting closer. Then, it started pouring. I don’t mind running in the rain. Heck, in this weather I love it. But, I do mind running in the lightning. I am constantly looking around to see if I am the tallest object in the immediate area. If I am, I freak out. Before I even had a chance to think about my options, I got a text from Lauren telling me to be careful and channeling my mom. I decided to drive to the Y, hoping that by the time I got there, the storm would have passed. I sat in the car for about 10 minutes before I realized that was not going to happen and if I wanted to get a treadmill, I'd better get inside quick. To make what was coming a little easier, I told myself I'd do 7 miles on the treadmill, then run again in the afternoon. Let me quickly explain why I only run on treadmills about twice a year. I fell off one in college. Not off one, on to one. It threw me off. Thankfully, into a pile of wrestling mats, but while it softened the blow to my body, it did not prevent the scars on my dignity. I got on the only available death machine and remembered my headphones were in the car. This was going to suck. Thank God for closed captioning. As the miles passed, I read the news on WBTV and took in my surroundings. When I got to four miles, I thought "Ok, I can do eight." When I got to eight, I told myself that if I could do 10.5, I could call it a day when it was over. So, that is what I did, thus completing what is unofficially the second longest treadmill run of my life.

Chapter 3: Drumlins

Technically, a drumlin is a smoothly rounded hill. For the purposes of this blog and for the sake of alliteration, it is just a hill. Saturday's 10K course was all drumlins, and what seemed to be very few valleys. I will be out of the country for Greekfest, so I decided to sign up for a rare 10K and see what kind of shape I was in. I explained my training in Chapter 1, so I knew I wasn't going to be fresh, but I didn't think a sub-34 was outside the realm of possibility. Despite ice baths, sticking and more stretching than usual (which is to say, I stretched), I woke up with still heavy legs. From the get-go, the race felt like an effort. Aaron paced me through the first two miles (5:14, 5:30), and Chris was with me through three miles. We went through mile three at 16:17, and after that I was hanging on. Chris and Aaron had dropped back and I struggled to keep my head in it. A runner from UNC Charlotte was a good bit ahead, and Allejandro was a good bit behind. I saw Billy Shue somewhere around mile 4.5 and thought about asking him to jump in to keep me company and keep me from slowing down so much, but for some reason I decided not to. I know he would of, because Billy would give you the shirt off his back. I didn't get the splits on the final 2.2, but they felt like a disaster. I ended up finishing second. My watch said 34:27, the gun time was 34:29. The chip time never registered. It's a one second PR, but I have run four 10Ks in my life. The first one was when I was getting back into shape and was somewhere in the 37s. The rest are 34:50, 34:30, 34:29. I think I am in a 10K rut.

Chapter 4: Dad & Mom

Mom and Dad and Auntie Ann all arrived the Friday night before the race. I love when they come down because I don't see nearly enough of them. My challenge is always finding new things to show them. I know they don't need to be entertained, but I like to entertain. Dad came to the race and met a lot of very important people. We spent Saturday afternoon at the NASCAR Hall of Fame, which is pretty cool. It's one of those places I might not have made it to if I didn't have someone to take. We had to drag Auntie Ann out kicking and screaming. She wanted to go back through. Not really. There is a pretty cool NASCAR simulator in there. I crashed five times. After my 18 mile long run and church on Sunday, we payed homage to father dollar by hitting retail hot spots Concord Mills and Ikea. Note on Concord Mills. Their PR people get really upset when you call it a mall. I always thought that was kind of petty, but had never been there. Now, I have. It's a mall. We did lots of good Charlotte eateries. Cabo, Zada Janes, Yoforia and then Zio last night with Mary Brooks. I won't go in to detail, but if you ever meet Mary Brooks, you'll know why spending an evening with her was the highlight of my family's trip.

Chapter 5: Dumb Falls

I chose running as my sport because I am not coordinated. Throw a ball at me, and I will drop it. Give me a jump rope and I'll trip over it. Running is like walking, but faster. It's instinct. How can anyone screw that up? I'm here to tell you how. I hammered my way through a pretty challenging track workout this morning. Through the entire thing, near 5:00 mile pace, I managed to stay upright. However, with a half-mile left in the leisurely cool down, I was chatting with Jordan as we approached three trash bags on the left hand side of the sidewalk. I saw the trash bags, made note of the trash bags and yet somehow still managed to catch my foot on one and go tumbling into the concrete. You've fallen before, so you know how it feels. Everything happens in slow motion and defying physics, you manage to cut up spots all over your body. I have a cut on my ankle, my knee, my elbow, my side and my back. The latter three require dressing and Lauren has to do it because I can't do it myself. I thought taking that initial shower would be the most painful part. Well, it hurt, but when Lauren put hydrogen peroxide on for the first time, I thought I was going to go through the roof. For those of you keeping track at home, this makes my second bloody fall since Memorial Day. How many of those were on rooty, technical trails? None. Both on sidewalks.

Apologies for the epic, and if you made it this far, I suggest a good book.

Old Runner Helps Young Idiot

2010-08-17T05:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Richard Hefner, aka the Old Runner (who, in my opinion isn't all that old), my blog roll issues should be fixed. He found the glitch in my settings and I think I have remedied the situation.

For Now, Something New

2010-08-16T17:29:00.000-07:00

I have mastered 5pm. Six years as a television news producer, and it's the only show I have ever regularly produced. Sure, I have hopped in and done an 11pm, a 6pm or a morning show here and there (along with the occasional special production), but no newscast has ever felt as familiar or as comfortable as the five. I know what people watching the news as five need to know. I know what they want to know.

Friday was my last 5pm....well, for now. Today, I totally immersed myself in a new project. In just under a month, my station is launching an hour long 4pm newscast. First I will develop it. Then, I will launch it and for an undetermined amount of time, I will produce it. As I often do with new projects, I approach this one with nervous excitement. Nervous because it is monumental. It's been a while since I have produced an hour's worth of content on a daily basis, but I haven't forgotten how draining it is. Excitement because it's a fresh challenge. It will ward off any looming complacency and re-measure my versatility.

As I envision it, news at 4pm looks very different than it is at 5pm, despite it being the difference of only one hour. Since we first announced this project, I've seen the show as "news in process." At 4, the reporters are still gathering, the editors are still cutting video, the graphics designers are still designing graphics. There's no point in trying to hide that. Transparency is much more effective. I plan to build a show that lets viewers know that we're in the climax of our workday, preparing for 5 and 6. The 4 will be a window into that work flow. Reporters in the field will quite literally be dropping what they are doing to fill us in on what they have so far, then going right back to work. Sometimes they won't even have time to set up a camera and a microwave signal. They'll join us via skype or through their iphones. I'm talking about unpolished, sleeves rolled up, unscripted and maybe even breathless broadcasts.

We've also enlisted a panel of local experts ready to weigh in on a moment's notice. I can't list them just yet, but that's been what I have been working on for the past week or so. I can tell you, the show will be anchored by Jamie Boll and Brigida Mack, a decision just announced today. The whole weather team will be involved, and we are looking for someone to navigate people through Charlotte's hellish afternoon commute.

I thought about talking about the impact this project will have on running and training for a marathon, but the truth is, I don't know. I'll go in a little earlier, get out a little earlier, but I plan on not taking frequent lunch breaks just like it's always been. We launch September 13th, exactly two months before the Richmond Marathon, so I guess I'll have a little bit of time to figure it out.

Blue Points 5K (do you have a more creative title?)

2010-08-09T17:01:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was intense. Awesome and intense. It was Lauren's 30th birthday, which officially makes us Mrs. Robinson and Ben Braddock -- except of course, she isn't married. I can make this joke until I turn 27 next month, and the gap is no longer four years. Her parents were both here. There was a party to plan. I had to move all my stuff for the third time since moving to Charlotte. We had out of town guests from Boston on Sunday. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I ran a 5k.

Despite a good, confidence-building stretch of running, I was not looking forward to the Blue Points 5K. There was much discussion over which way the course would be run. Would we go up Morehead or up Stonewall? Some believe that one way is easier than the other, but I am convinced they are equally as tough with a downhill on one side and a gradual climb for the last mile and a half. We decided to run it Morehead first when we previewed the course on Thursday's run. We were wrong. Shortly after the run, Meagan assured us the course would be going Stonewall first. I told her I didn't care if we ran it sideways. It took everything I had to go 16:30 last year.

Come Saturday morning, you couldn't have asked for better weather. The humidity was on a hiatus, and it was maybe 75 degrees. And there was nearly a full moon. Just before the gun went off (I say this like there is actually a gun. I don't remember the last time someone fired a gun to signal the start of a race in Charlotte), a nearly-pantless man came running out of the group screaming something and running toward the parking lot. He either screamed, "my chip!" or "my pants!" Either was a possibility. He had that look like he had forgetten to secure his chip. I've seen it before. Plus, how do you suddenly realize there is nothing covering your rear? I may never know the answer since the next time I saw him the race was over and he had pants on.

The race went out fast. It was clear right off the bat that it was a deep field. Richard Falcone, an ageless wonder, sprinted to the front with Jordan while I briefly tested the waters with a pack of Appalachian State and Winthrop runners. They were going out much faster than I felt comfortable with, and I settled right where I belonged with Brian and Paul. Brian was on a mission. As we rolled down Stonewall, he opened up a decent gap on Paul and me. We reeled him in and he'd put down a surge. I'd pull along next to him, and there was a another surge. The first mile was an actual race. 5:01.

Paul and I finally broke lose from Brian at about a mile and a quarter, turning onto Morehead. After we pulled off, neither of us saw another runner. I wanted to stay with Paul as long as I could because I knew as soon as he got a couple steps ahead of me, I'd drop back and mentally check out. I could tell he wanted to break away, but I stayed strong. Ultimately, it was good for both of us. 5:15. The climb had started.

We were still side-by-side as we climbed the little bridge next to the Dowd YMCA where Megan and Erica gave a much needed cheer. Coming down the other side and crossing over 277, I decided to take a risk. I put about five meters on Paul as we turned onto Mint Street. With the finish line in site and a larger than normal crowd cheering, I knew I'd have to hold on hard to keep Paul from benefiting from the momentum and taking back his spot. The advantage goes to the chaser in these situations. And this wasn't just any chaser, it was Paul who is a darn strong runner. So yeah, he got me. Just before we crossed the line, Paul went by crossing in 16:13 with me in 16:15. But I was far from disappointed. It was 15 seconds faster than last year, and only 8 seconds slower than China Grove which is a much faster course. It also broke a mini-streak of subpar performances. Of course, you never run the perfect race. I wish I could have outkicked Paul, but in the grand scheme of things to be disappointed in, it's pretty minor.

Jordan easily held off a hard-charging crowd of kids to win. Meagan won on the women's side, and Billy Shue broke 17:00 allowing him to date women. After the race, the talk was about how fast everyone is going to run at Greekfest. I'm bummed I won't be there, but I think I'd rather be soaking up the sun in the Bahamas. I'm going to give the 10K a shot on August 21st, and maybe look for one last 5K to bust somewhere before mid-September.

Funkbuster

2010-07-31T11:51:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of this week, I knew getting in my long run progression was going to take some sacrifices; sacrifices of sleep and of time. Aaron was going to be out of town and Paul had done a tempo earlier in the week. The big CRC group was running at Beatty, which if you want to make it through the run with both ankles in tact, is no place to push the pace. My only option was to drive up to Huntersville at the ass crack of dawn and run with Mike, Nathan and Bill. I looked forward to the running buddies. I did not look forward to the early hour and a running location that was not right around the corner.

But, I needed this run. Ever since Saturday's race, I have been in a mini-funk. Easy runs have felt tough. Workouts have seemed impossible and when that starts to happen, a hobby becomes a chore. A passion becomes a pain. I had told just Lauren and Aaron that if today's progression didn't go well I was going to force myself to take three to four days off. Ok, I know that's melodramatic, but my fear was I was burning myself out. Mark and I went over some of the reasons that may be behind the mini-funk, and over-training topped the list.

Like any runner, I don't like to take time off. I was going to do whatever I had to do to make today's run a mental and physical success. As soon as I got off work last night, I went by the Harris Teeter and filled a grocery cart with ice. I stood behind two guys buying enough alcohol to stock a sports stadium, and thought, "if they only knew I was going to sit in all this ice instead of using it to chill my beer." (Side note: runners find things normal that NO ONE ELSE would think is such. Whenever, I catch myself in one of these moments -- buying ice so I can sit in it, or rubbing vasoline on my nipples -- I think of those old Adidas ads.) Following my ice bath, Lauren and I went to Boriana's where she made us a delicious Bulgarian dinner. Then, it was a couple of chapters of The Art of Racing in the Rain, followed by an early bed time.

Fueled by a piece of bread with Nutella and a banana, I was in the Huntersville business park parking lot by 5:45 am. I got in a good stretch and we set out on an 8 mile easy run. We averaged around 7:20, carrying on a good conversation. Then, talking time was over. I told myself that if I could work my way down to about 5:55 on the progression portion of the run, I'd consider it a sucess. If I struggled to get out of the 6:20 range, it was hiatus time. I had planned to do six, but since the other guys were doing eight, I figured I'd run six then see how I felt. Right away I was 6:15 and it felt very easy. Good sign. From there each mile got quicker. By the fifth mile I was 5:50. The sixth mile I went 5:39 and thought, "I can do one more." I cranked out another 5:40 and shut it down. Success! Sure, alone these aren't lightning fast miles, but it sure is a nice way to seal up the back end of a 16 mile run. Plus, the other guys were going longer and a bit more conservative which made this a solo effort and that's always harder. It's also encouraging that I at no point felt like I was digging and could have done that eighth mile had I needed to.

A decent workout has set the tone for the day. I am in a good mood and have a good appetite. We just got back from Costco where I ate every sample they were offering -- some of them twice. I'm planning to eat a big burger tonight. For now, I plan to take a nap.

100 Degrees in Dilworth

2010-07-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

I have only raced the four mile distance four times. I think that’s enough times to decisively say that it’s not my favorite. In the hierarchy of shorter distances, it sits somewhere in between the 15K (Love) and the mile (Hate). Yes, I am aware that in length, it also fits in between those distances, but I am only referring to preference in this case. Saturday’s Run For Your Life Run for a Cause Four Miler was the second slowest of my four four milers, but by far the hottest. In last year’s race, I finished second in a time of 21:30. Given the conditions, I hoped to at least repeat that performance.

I am a sweaty guy. So, I wasn’t all that surprised when I showed up the line and a couple of runners asked me if I had already raced. I was dripping sweat from the easy warm up miles. This continues to be the hottest, most humid summer I have ever lived through. By the time the race started at 7:30 Saturday morning, it was near 100% humidity (but not near raining) and I was starting to think this competition would come down to who the best aqua jogger was. (Sadly for me, that was not the case. If it were, I might have won. I am one heck of an aqua jogger. I was the unofficial NCAA Division III National Champion when I couldn’t run my sophomore year of cross country.)

Knowing that the entire first mile is up hill, I put some effort in as soon as the gun went off. I wouldn’t say I went out fast – I didn’t even sniff Jordan and Bert -- but I did give myself a jump on Paul, Aaron and Mike who I know to be strong hill runners. That’s why it wasn’t long before Paul, Mike and I were in a pack, making our way up McDonald. Mike was baby-jogger-free, so I figured he’d be a contender. I’d been working out frequently with Paul and knew he was in solid shape. I clocked 5:28 for the first mile.

By the time we got to East Boulevard it was Paul and I testing the waters. It’s a long stretch down East, but at this point I was feeling pretty decent. We had talked earlier in the week about running near each other, so it felt like everything was going according to plan. We hit the next mile still side-by-side in a much quicker time of 5:19. At roughly two-and-a-half miles I could see a water stop up ahead. I waited to see what Paul would do, sort of like a race car driver waits to see who is going to go into the pits. When he took a cup of water, I followed suit. The plan was to dump most of it on my head and drink the rest. Unfortunately, I dumped all of it on my head and then attempted to drink from an empty cup. What can I say? It was my first time taking water in a race shorter than a half-marathon.

Approaching mile three, Paul opened a gap on me. If I have one weakness…well, I have many, but one of them is the inability to close gaps. I would later learn that this entire mile was a disaster. I was starting to feel the heat. My legs felt fine, but the rest of my body was moving toward exhaustion. I clocked a 5:42 for this mile. There are some climbs, but I should have run faster than that. However, looking at other’s recaps it appears everyone struggled with this mile. Almost everyone. Greg Isaacs did not. Just before the three-and-a-half mile marker he passed me. I tried to hang, but as we came closer to the line, I worried a little more about preserving my position and not getting passed again. I had no idea what was going on behind me and knew looking back would only slow me down.

I crossed the line in 21:44, thoroughly tuckered out. Due to Bert running off the course, I finished in fourth place, behind some pretty speedy runners and ahead of some pretty speedy runners too. I’ve gone back and forth between disappointed and simply satisfied. Elated is definitely not on in the list of feelings. The disappointment comes when I start thinking about my last couple of races. I ran a subpar 5K in New York, and this four-miler did not show any signs of progression. It’s discouraging after what I thought was a pretty promising start to the summer racing season. I know Paul can relate. I am happy to see he’s broken out of his funk. I move toward satisfaction when I think about the conditions. It seemed everyone’s times were a little slower than their potential thanks to the heat and humidity. Plus, these shorter races are hard to use as a good gauge. You either have it that day or you don’t. There’s no switching gears in the middle. You can run 16:00 one day in a 5K, and come back the next weekend in the same shape and run a 16:45. Some positive workout performances have kept me feeling like I am moving in the right direction. We’ll see what happens at Blue Points on August 7th.

In other weekend news, Lauren competed in the Lake Wylie Sprint Triathlon with Sloan and did a great job! It gave me the opportunity to get down to Lake Wylie, go for a swim and have a great lunch with the two triathletes and Jamie Doyle.

Sunday’s long run was miserable, but misery loves company. There were eight of us on this 15 mile (for me) death march on the hot asphalt at Mallard Creek. We all tried our best to stay positive, but by the end, the little conversation we were able to have revolved around how much longer was left and where water might be available. It go so bad that with two miles to go, Mike and I actually jumped in the creek. I may grow another eyeball, but I was cooled off just for that moment.

Back From Bliss

2010-07-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

It's always better to ease back into the real world following a vacation than to dive into it head first like it's a shallow pool. We landed in Charlotte early Monday morning, then I had the entire day and the following day off from work. There is of course, a trade off. I am in the middle of a ten day stretch that includes two 10 hour shifts on Saturday and Sunday and a hellish Monday turn around of less than nine hours.

As we drove the rental car away from the cottage last week, I got the usual pit in my stomach, accompanied by -- I admit -- a few tears welling up behind the eyeballs. I don't like waving goodbye to a place that gives me so much peacefullness; a place that's mere location and ambiance is enough to reset my entire system, especially because I know that when I leave, it will be at least a year until I come back.

I'll briefly go through the high points of the 10 day trip to New York, although, the point was for there to be few highlights and a whole lot of R & R. The fireworks and ring of fire on Port Bay did not disappoint. I saw the family. Laughed with the family. Crammed in close quarters with the family. Lauren met aunts, uncles, grandpa and family friends. I ran one hometown 5K and finished 2nd in a slower time than I had hoped for. We hit wineries on Seneca and Kueka Lakes. We met up with Bfo, Camissa, Val and Jon to see Dave and Tim play an acoustic show in Canandaigua, took in an Irish football game with Hys, had beers at Colemans, ate the lighthouse in Oswego and bought a new boat ladder for dad. We swam off the bluffs. Lauren did handstands. I saw a naked guy. Dick and Katie have a baby. I did not run the Boilermaker. I did not check my work email. Well, once. Nate and I reminisced about the more rebelious days. The pranks will always be in the past. I randomly ran into Gretchen on a run. I sat in an inflatible whale filled with ice. Twice. We made smores, grilled burgers and corn and baked a tomato pie. I finished the third Steig Larsson book. There were nine nights on an air mattress, one night in a twin bed. A man told he was keeping tabs on the Canadian Coast Guard. Sarah gave me two silly bands. Kristy grew up. We stayed up late. And we slept until we felt like it.

Now, the routine is back in place. Up at 5:00am to run, work from 8:30 to 6, bed by 10:30. But as much the break from the routine is refreshing, it's a pretty good routine to have. I have a girlfriend I love that sees me off in the morning and eats dinner with me at night. I've got great training partners -- friends is a better word -- to share stories with on runs, and my job could be a lot worse (well, maybe not a lot).

Running-wise right now, I am feeling a little flat. The 5K in New York wasn't a disaster, but after running a 16:07, I expected to run a heck of a lot faster than 16:42. Yes, circumstances are totally opposite. China Grove was at night. Sodus Point was in the late morning heat. China Grove was flat. Sodus Point was hilly. China Grove had competition. I was in no man's land in Sodus Point. I just felt though, like I was lacking some hutspa (look it up)

This past week, I logged just under 78 miles and felt good for about 50% of them. Tuesday's tempo workout was a flop, but Thursday on the AM run, I felt great. Friday's Miles of Mooresville was so-so, but I probably could have done the three mile portion better. Saturday's long run was an absolute disaster. I think the heat and humidity contributed to me wanting to find the nearest bridge to jump off every step of the way. Today's run at Davidson felt AWESOME. I'm at a point right now where I need to get consistent with my training and my racing. So, let me take that back. I am not feeling flat. I am feeling inconsistent. I'd rather be flat and racing well than have all these unpredictable ups and downs.

Up this week, slightly less mileage, mile repeats Tuesday morning and a four mile race on Saturday....

NOTE: I am really irritated that my blog is not showing up as "updated" on people's blog rolls. If anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

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2010-07-15T05:56:00.000-07:00

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In the Buff at the Bluffs

2010-07-08T19:04:00.000-07:00

The reason I started blogging again is partly because I don't believe in Facebook. I know, I know. I am an avid Facebook user. However, I don't believe in the power of its little "status updates." They don't tell a story, just a headline. I could have made the topic of tonight's blog a status update, but the story is worth the added detail.

Tired of running on the unshaded, sun beaten roads near our family cottage, I decided to drive to the Chimney Bluffs State Park in Huron this morning to hit the trails for today's run. From the waters of Lake Ontario, the bluffs are a beautiful example of the natural land art created by glacial movement and centuries of erosion from one of the Great Lakes. From the land, the bluffs are a weaving, narrow, treacherous and dangerous patch of land where the admirers picnic and walk the dogs and the adventurers hope to come out with both ankles still functioning. With temperatures still reaching into the mid 90s and humidity still soaring, I decided the risk of falling over a downed tree was worth the cooler conditions offered in the shaded trails.

I arrived at the bluffs just before 10 (I have been sleeping in to put some added hours in my sleep bank while I can) and parked in a nearly empty parking lot. The only other vehicle in the lot was a big red van, one that might be used to shuttle a collegiate athletic team to a match. I parked a couple of spots away from the van and got out, removed my shirt and began applying sunscreen. During these pre-run activities, I struck up a conversation with the gentlemen in the van. He was older -- maybe 60 -- plump, and wearing only green shorts. He was sitting on the ledge of the van's side passenger door reading the paper. We made small talk about the unusual heat and he demonstrated that he visited the park a lot. I asked him some simple questions about the trails since it had been some time since I had run on them. Then, he put on a backpack and headed out for presumably, a hike. I finished stretching and then took off in the opposite direction, but on the same circular trail.

As soon as I started running, I knew this was the right choice. While the pace was slow because of all the footwork and the climbing, my legs were thankful for the soft surface and my entire body was thankful for the shade. I took some side trails that brought me to the edge of the cliff, hundreds of feet above the lake. I didn't hesitate to pause and take in the view.

About 15 minutes into the run, I noticed my friend from the parking lot was coming toward me. Only this time, something was different. He still had the backpack on. He still had his sandals on. He did not have the green shorts on. This man was naked. The time between noticing his nakedness and getting close enough to where I would have to have an exchange with the nude man was finite. In those few seconds, a number of thoughts went through my head. Do I talk to him? Do I just run past without saying a word? Is he on a mission? How do I hide my surprise? Do I make some sort of nude joke? Do I know any good nude jokes? And then there I was, passing by. Nude Ned made the first move. He commented on the amount of time it took me to loop this certain part of the trail. I acknowledged with a laugh and just kept running. And that was it. My first encounter with a naked man on a run was brief and painless...not even all that awkward and I immediately thought about the mileage I'd get out of the story.

I spent the rest of the ten mile run trying not to fall and trying to forget about the bear story. At dinner last night my dad remarked that there have been a lot of black bear sightings in the area this summer. Here I was in the woods. That is where bears live (and also shit, so I hear). In my head, every track I saw in the woods was made by a bear. At one point, I saw a big buck emerge from the woods. "I bet he's being chased by a bear," I thought. You see, some of my friends and oft running partners have a debilitating fear of snakes. I don't mind snakes, but I do mind bears. I am frightened by the thought of bears. Fortunately, I made it through the run without ever encountering a bear...although I did encounter a bare.

Give me a break!

2010-07-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

Despite what the automatically generated time on this blog post might tell you, it's 4:16 pm on a Friday...one hour and 14 minutes until my vacation starts. If I am here for one hour and 15 minutes, or even one hour, 14 minutes and 18 seconds, the chance of me strangling someone (anyone) or setting the building on fire in a fit of rage (which I guess is the only state of mind that would cause someone to commit arson) grows exponentially.

Without actually looking at a calendar, I think I am on my way to the finish line of the longest vacation-free stretch of my working life. Mentally and physically, I am exhausted. At work, my creativity barrel is nearly empty (although I did just write a killer script for another show) (I love parenthetical phrases), I am running (literally) on fumes. On the run this morning, I felt dead. 7:30 pace was pushing it.

So what exotic location are we jetting off to? The Florida Keys, Hawaii, Venice? Nah. I stick to upstate New York these days. When you grow up, go to school and begin your career in the same place, you never imagine it will be the very same place you go to get away from it all. But its absence gives it a certain appeal. Home is one of the few places you can go to have a stress-free vacation.

Not that we don't have a lot on our agenda. In the 10 days we are there, I am running two races. On the fourth, there's the Sodus Point Light House 5K, then a week later, I am hopping in the Boilermaker 15K in Utica for the first time since 2003. I reloaded the ipod too, so I'll have some company for the 75 miles I have on my training schedule next week. We also have tickets to the Dave & Tim show in Canandaigua on the 6th. We're going with Bfo who is moving out to Kansas City at the end of the week. We'll do some "wining" on the Finger Lakes, visit with the Hys, take the 5 minute tour of Newark and the 10 minute tour of Oswego. Other than that --- and yes, I know it seems like a lot -- our week will consist of a whole lot of sitting by the water and reading the Stieg Larson trilogy thanks to the advice of Caitlin Chrisman.

This is the first trip I am preparing for as a dog lover. I find that I have grown rather attached to Lauren's dog Pepper. Because Pepper is a bigger dog, bringing her with us would be what we consider to be inhumane. First, they'd have to drug her. Then, they'd shove her in the cargo hold of the plane for the duration of the flight. It just doesn't seem fair. But, it was tough to say goodbye to Pepper as Lauren took her to the Five-Star Pooch Hotel where she'll live while we're away.

Here's an anecdote that might sum up my mental fatigue. I have this thing I have been putting off mailing all week because I don't have stamps. I finally made it over to the post office today. Mailing the correspondence was my soul purpose. It wasn't until I got in the door that I noticed it had one of those "Postage Not Necessary if Mailed Within United States." Well damned if I'm not within the United States!

Whatever happened to Gallagher? I theorize a giant watermelon smashed HIM.

Running When Hot

2010-06-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I saw a "Caution: Wet Floor" sign had been placed on a carpeted area and thought, "that's certainly not neccessary."

What has been neccessary this week is getting up before the sun to get in a run that is somewhat bearable. In fact, for the first time since I can remember, I did both my tough workouts in the morning instead of the afternoon. I call it the lesser of two evils. Rising early seems to run on the paternal side of my family. But like stints in the armed services and mustaches, it ended with me. When my father wakes up at 5am, he's up and on. When I wake up at 5am, I'm cursing, confused and tripping over small items on the floor. More on that in a moment. On the other hand, it's been a whole new kind of hot and humid in Charlotte for the past fortnight (been dying to use that word in a sentence). Running after the sun has had a chance to bake the earth and trap in all that moisture will almost certainly result in vomitting, and could easily end in death.

This morning, for the fifth straight day, I was up at 5:30, giving my body a chance to limber up before a 6am workout. I ate a handful of peanut butter puffins, drank some water and emptied the tank. The plan was to do a 26 minute tempo at half-marathon pace. As I started the warm up with Aaron and Steve I began to worry. I was having trouble forming complete thoughts and sentences and slurring my speech. I felt like I had suffered a stroke. While I knew that wasn't the case, it was obvious and frustrating that my brain was taking an extraordinarily long time to start fully functioning. With the workout looming, excuses for failure or sub-par performance began to form. I've had a really hard work week. I didn't sleep well last night. I'm drunk?

Then, it began. Out of the gate in 5:46 pace with Aaron and Steve flanking me. It was like the beep of the watch set off a signal to the brain. "Wake the hell up! We're going!" And from there, it was running as usual. All three of us fought through pea soup humidity to follow the 5:46 with a 5:44, 5:39, 5:44 again and then a final .63 at a brisk 5:30 pace.

A successful workout was the promising result of a little schedule tinkering I am doing right now. Aaron and I have decided to try moving the second stress workout from Thursday to Friday to allow a little more recovery time from the Tuesday workout. While my mental soundness at the beginning of this run can certainly be questioned, I can say with conviction that my legs felt considerably better than if I had tried to pull of this tempo yesterday.

Sleeping...gone to the dogs

2010-06-18T18:02:00.000-07:00

Sometimes our ambitions outweigh our abilities. I, for instance, have never owned a dog. I have had plenty of practice spending lots of time with Lauren's dog Pepper, but for the most part, it's always been Lauren, Pepper and me. Yet, somehow, when I committed to dogsitting Pepper and her Jack Russell terrier "friend", Annabelle, it did not occur to me that I was in over my head.

It has instead, gradually occurred to me as I am in the midst of it, culminating with me just stepping in poop in the living room. Before you ask, of course I wasn't being cautious of poop. One is cautious of poop in parks even on the sidewalk. Why would I anticipate a pile of poop in the living room?

Pepper is a 65 pound Black Lab, German Shepherd mix. Annabelle is a 10 pound Jack Russell terrier. Which dog do you think has pooped in three different places? (And these are significant poops.) Which dog do you think harasses the other...stealing her food and drinking her water? Which dog do you think peer pressures the other into being loud and rambunctious? That's right, the pipsqueak.

About 10 minutes ago, a cartoon unfolded and I was in it. The kindly widow who lives across the way, knocked on the door to deliver bird seed so we could feed her birds while she is away. As you might imagine, the five foot tall, 73-year-old woman (who feeds birds and squirrels) is intimidating to two dogs. First, they went nuts barking in unison. Then, when I opened the door they bolted. Pepper is OK without a leash. Annabelle, on the other hand, was making a jail break. She took off like a funny car toward the street, hung a sharp left and was out of site. Not to be outdone, Pepper chased her. I was halfway down the street screaming both dogs' names when I realized I was in my red monkey boxer shorts. Since, I didn't feel like getting arrested tonight should the flap open, I ran back toward the house and found some gym shorts. it was on this quest that I stepped in the poop. With the poop patty on my flip flop, I ran back outside prepared for an all night search. Fortunately, Pepper came right back. I found Annabelle on the back stoop of a nearby home. I had to go up the driveway to scoop her up. I was glad I was not in my underwear.

Sleeping has been a luxury with these two. Pepper will go to bed when I go to bed. She sleeps through the night in her own bed just feet from me. Sometimes she has dreams and whimpers. It's adorable. Since Annabelle arrived, if anyone so much as sneezes within a four block radius of this house, both dogs have a fit. For the past three nights these fits have happened almost hourly. So, to those of you who have kept me company on the morning runs this week, my apologies for dragging down the pace.

But despite all that. Despite the indoor pooping...Oh by the way, I know it's not Pepper pooping because every time I let her out to do her business, she poops and since Annabelle is eating all her food, I know she can't be doing double poops. Despite the barking, I am enjoying the company of these four-legged ladies. Yep, I have even become one of those people that has conversations with them. I look forward to seeing them when I come home. I look forward to sneaking Pepper treats when Annabelle is not looking, I even enjoy walking them, even though Annabelle resists my lead and makes me drag her down the street. As I say all these kind, loving things, I realized there is still poop on my foot.

Why I do

2010-06-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

It's been five years since I last blogged. One day in February of 2005, I wrote an entry in my well-read journal, "Jay's Head" and I never came back. Maybe life got in the way. A lot has happened since 2005, but don't worry. This isn't going to be one of those cliche' blog entries where I ramble on about how life has changed and how I have grown so much as a person. I'll spare you the autobiography. I suppose I could have just picked up where I left off, but I'm thinking a lot differently than I was back then. I'm probably just as cynical but maybe not as much of an open book, which is probably a good thing. Also, as I look back on my posts from collegiate days, I think I was a much better writer. I was in the midst of all these great creative writing and journalism classes. The wheels were really turning. Now, I fear there is some rust that has built up.

It's hard to believe that I am approaching six years as a TV news producer. While I have progressed in that field, it may have also hurt my writing ability. When your whole day is limited to spewing out as much information in as little time as possible, your focus on details -- things you might use an adjective for -- starts to diminish. I spent a good part of my day yesterday reading old posts, and at times, I had trouble recognizing the guy who was sitting there at three in the morning, beer in hand, crafting these clever observations. I don't want to toot my own horn here too much, but they were good.

That's what this blog is about. I want to get my clever back. I want to have an outlet. When I was writing on a regular basis, I saw things in a different light. I didn't just look for facts. I looked for interesting elements. I looked for stories. I refuse to believe that I have made all the observations I have to make at the age of 26, and that my view of the world is what it is. I am confident that I that I can still put on those glasses and see the alternate version; the version that might make me smile.

If there is one thing I hate, it's when people try to get all philosophical in blogs, chronicling their quest to find the meaning of life. Stop. You don't want to find it. That's what makes what we do interesting. Ya know, living. Regardless, you're wasting your time. So, I don't want anyone to think that's what I am doing here. Instead I just want to chronicle life. That in itself is a quest. With my last blog, I got carried away with the readership to the point where if I didn't update, I would stress out. That can't happen with this blog. I have to learn to only write when I am inspired. No one is proud of stuff they wrote because they had to. When I started writing this a few minutes ago, I was inspired. Now, I am just tired. So, I am going to stop.

China Grove - but not the same one the Doobies talked about.

2010-06-13T10:35:00.000-07:00

As much as I would have liked to be running a race in a town immortalized by the Doobies, a quick glance at the lyrics of that classic rock song let me know that the Brothers Doobie were actually jamming out about a place somewhere in Texas (In the San Antonio area I believe) and not Rowan County, North Carolina.

Going into this week, the last in my first meso-cycle of the new Mark Hadley training plan, I knew I was either going to start my summer season in China Grove for the Main Street Challenge on Friday night, or in Hendersonville with the Civitan Sun 5K Saturday morning. Ultimately, it was Paul Mainwaring and the rave reviews of China Grove that convinced me to give it a try. With just one month of post-Boston marathon training under my belt, this race was to act as a fitness test. I really wanted to do well, but I also wanted to use it as a gauge of where I was and what kinks needed to be worked out as I settle in to the 5 and 10K distance for the next couple of months.

I think the last time I raced at night was in college....maybe even high school, and that was on an indoor track. Well, not counting the Blue Ridge Relay. It's tough to plan your day around a 9pm race. What do you eat? Can you sneak a nap in the middle of a work day?

At the last minute, Jordan decided to join Paul and me for our 38 mile road trip from Charlotte to China Grove. We took off at 6:45 in hopes of a 7:30 arrival. We arrived right on time and got a money parking spot between the moonbounces and the porta-johns. I hadn't registered yet, so I signed up while Paul claimed a door prize. The race packet was definitely nice. It contained a dri-fit shirt and a coupon for Chick-Fil-A which I would later learn was only usable at a Chick-Fil-A up there. Oh well.

Around 8:10, Paul, Jordan and I set out to run the course. We found it to be pretty flat with some very modest inclines. It's an out and back, up main street. On the way back, just before town, the fire department had parked one of its trucks and it was spraying water from above. This was needed on a night where it was near 90 even after the sun went down and a pea-soup-kind of humid.

At the line, I did some strides, jumped up and down a few times, then a man in a paper Krispy Kreme hat said a prayer. Shortly following the "amen", the horn went off. I knew enough to stay away from Jordan and Ryan Woods. They were in a different race. But, I wanted to keep Paul and Chris in my sights. I figured the three of us were the race for third. Chris left me about 400-600 meters in to run with Jordan and Ryan a bit. I chose not to go, hoping he would come back to me later in the race. Paul was a few seconds back when I went through the mile in 5:04 (that's what the Garmin said, but the guy on the side of the course calling out splits said '5:00'). Paul caught up to me shortly after the mile marker and we ran side-by-side to the turn around. We both believe we lost a couple of seconds by taking the turn around so gingerly. Both of us slowed down to go around the barrel that marked the midway point.

As we went through the turnaround, I noticed Chris had pulled up from the lead two and we were catching him quickly. I figured he wasn't finished and was glad he went with us when we got to him. For a half-mile or so, it was the three of us running as a pack. I decided to make a move and Chris came with me. For the next half-mile we ran together. I'd put in a little surge and he'd come right with me. With about 800 to go, I put in one final surge and opened up a nice gap between the two of us. I was hurting, but thought I could maintain. I hit the firetruck with the water, and remembered it being MUCH CLOSER to the finish. Did that firetruck move? I was still composed though, and could see the line. I guess this is where I got complacent because all of the sudden, Chris was right on me again and I had nothing left. As we approached the line, he outkicked me and I lost my breath. I started to cough like I haven't coughed in a race since some track races back in the day.

I finished in 16:07, but probably lost three seconds trying to breathe as I came through the chute. Chris, Paul and I both had our hands on our knees for a good two minutes following the finish. We may have underestimated the toll the conditions were going to take.

The time is a new PR, and encouraging as I plot out the rest of the running season. I know I have a lot more workouts and development left. I know I need to work on finishing (and that has been the case since I started running), and I could still use a little work on pacing. According to the Garmin, the splits were 5:04, 5:14, 5:14 and :35 for the last 0.1. Looking at times from last year's race, I think the humidity slowed the average pace down a bit. Ryan ran 14:58 to win in 2009, and Jordan won it this year in 15:05. The guy who was fourth last year ran 15:58 and I ran 16:07. Of course, I can't say I could run 15:58. I have never run that time. This performance made me optimistic that a sub-16 is possible though.

Gutsy performances out there by Jordan, who is in awesome shape, Chris who had my number at the end and Paul who left everything out on the course. Also, a nod to Alice Rogers who set a new PR in 18:01, finishing as the second overall female.

This race also gets high marks for its post-race buffet. There was cantaloupe, watermelon, legit bottles of Gatordade, Cheerwine (which I don't particularly enjoy, but is a Salisbury-area staple), cookies and Pizza Hut Pizza. Kudos to Jordan for snagging a whole box on the way out.

Next race could be Summer Breeze at Freedom Park, but the next meso-cycle ends with the Sodus Point Light House 5k at HOME!