Capturing the white whale

There are two reasons to run fast at the Coogan's Salsa, Blues and Shamrocks 5K. The first is to stay with the lead pack and not get dropped. The second is to get a seat and a first shot at the free hot breakfast, beer and coffee served at Coogan's Pub immediately following the race.

Those factors in mind, I knew going into Sunday's race that I was fit. In the weeks prior to the event, I had put in three solid weeks of high mileage and hard workouts before dropping the mileage by about 30% for race week. But, despite feeling like breaking 16 was entirely possible, I was sure this would not be the course where it would happen.

As the first team race of the season, this 5K generally boasts big crowds but not fast times. The race takes place in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, starting and ending at the Armory. It begins with a climb under the George Washington Bridge. That's followed with a generous reprieve into the Cloisters and descent to the river, then another climb out of the park, a flat stretch and then the pièce de résistance, a steep climb for the first 1/4 mile of the final mile of the race.

I met teammate and training partner Josh at the Armory shortly after 8am. Following a decent stretch, we headed out into the sea of people gathered outside for an easy two mile warm-up. The weather was shaping up to be perfect. With the temperature somewhere between freezing and forty, it would be just warm enough to wear my preferred racing outfit of a simple singlet and shorts.

Following bag check, we made our way to the line where I was frustrated to find that my bib number did not get me into the "competitive runner corral". The reason for this, and it is a legitimate one, is that I don't have a long enough history of NYRR races to get me into the corral, so even though I had a seed time in the low 5's, I wasn't recognized as one of the top 100 runners in the race. I asked a volunteer to make an exception, but he turned me down. So, I took my place in corral one. Truth be told, the difference between the two corrals is negligible. For me, it was more of a mental thing than anything else. Growing more and more annoyed, I attempted to sneak under the thin paper barrier that divided the two corrals just minutes before the race. As I did so, I snapped the tape thus, turning the two corrals into one big one. Fortunately, the officials didn't notice.

At the horn, there was a traffic jam in the front. It felt like a high school cross country race, as I bumped my way past people who were not concerned with a fast start. My plan was to run the race with Josh since we have been training together well, but less than 1/10th of a mile into the race, I was struggling through the crowd to catch up with him. Well before the 1/4 mile mark, we were shoulder to shoulder in our red Urban Athletics singlets and right on pace. Even though we both thought today wouldn't be the day to break 16, we had calculated what we had to do to make it happen just in case the stars aligned. We went through the first mile in 5:05. I felt pretty good and was relieved that I hadn't gone out too fast.

At the beginning of mile two, I threw in a mini-surge to get through a group of runners. The second mile is the fastest mile on the course and knowing this, I wanted to take advantage. As we went through the Cloisters and passed by several of the bands lining the course, I did my best to make this mile faster than the first, but not so fast that I had an empty tank by mile three. My Garmin registered a 4:56 for this mile, but the course clock said 5:07. Either way, I had gained some ground and with just under six minutes of wiggle room to break 16, I started to think that if I could maintain form and attack the upcoming hills, today might be the day after all.

I attacked mile three with gusto. I knew I'd have to run in the low 5's, then kick it in if I wanted to finish under 16 with room to spare. The beginning of the mile is flat and fast, but in the distance I could see what appeared to be a wall of asphalt. A steep climb was quickly approaching, but I had time to mentally prepare for it and convince myself I could maintain my pace on the ascent. I would conquer the hill. It would not conquer me. When we hit the hill, I kept it in gear, running at a steady 5:02 pace. Josh was still right next to me, and we worked together to stay motivated and not fall apart. At the top, there was just about 500 meters to go and it was all downhill. I was tired, but not winded. I could see the finish line in the distance. Josh was able to open a small gap on me while I did everything I could to stay on pace. I went through mile three at 15:12, a 5:00 mile according to the course clock. 48 seconds to spare. This was going to be it.

The feeling of elation when I crossed the line in 15:51 was one I haven't felt in a 5K in a long time. 16 minutes has been my white whale since I started running competitively again in 2008. I ran 16:07 on a fast course in China Grove, NC in June of 2010 and hadn't run a 5K I've been happy with since. Of course, no race is the perfect race. I learned a lot from this one, mainly, I need to continue to work on my finish speed. But, I was happy enough to feel like the celebratory Guinness at 9:45am was well-deserved.

Race Stats:

Time: 15:51

Pace: 5:05

Place: 18th

Age Group: 10th

Age Grade: 81.46%

Team Position: Urban Athletics Open Men, 4th Place

Ahead by nearly a century

As Boston gets closer, the mileage gets higher, the workouts get harder and I get hungrier. Nearing the end of a February that includes three consecutive weeks of 85, 98 and 95 miles. I am struggling to remember a time when I was thoroughly stuffed. This week, the seminary at which we live hosted a free pancake breakfast. They probably didn't bank on my appetite as they prepared the feast. Two plates piled high with hot cakes, fruit and fresh whipped cream and I still had room for M&Ms when I got home. (Side anecdote: Lauren and I took Julie and Brian to the M & M store and could not resist the allure of the wall of milk chocolate in a candy shell. We now have enough M & M's to sustain us through Christmas...or maybe next week. Who knows?)

Since my last post, which was about movies and not running, things have progressed quite nicely on the fitness front. Minus a disastrous attempt at racing the mile at the Armory, I've finished every run at workout satisfied. The day after the track disaster, I put in a hard 7 mile tempo in the park , solo at 5:38 pace. I can thank the frustration hangover for some of that speed. That run was followed up by a moderately paced 20 miler with Josh and JR over the George Washington Bridge and onto the steep hills and switchbacks of the Palisades Greenway before heading back into Central Park.

The next week was a grind from start to finish. At Tuesday’s UA workout, we hammered 400s around the Great Lawn. Although, I should point out that hammering is relative. My 12 repeats ranged from 65-70 seconds and the rest was generous. During the faster ones, my face contorted in a twisted grimace and my arms flailed wildly. People with actual speed can go much faster and look much more graceful. I have always lacked both grace and speed. It took me two days, three runs and 30 miles to recover. I also am learning that the high mileage requires me to run in the morning and with my current work schedule that means 4:30am. If I ever go months without updating this blog, assume that I was kidnapped by a wandering drifter somewhere along the Hudson river during one of those runs.

Once recovered, I hit the Central Park 4 mile course last Friday to attempt a solo effort at 3X2 miles. The course is moderately hilly, but so are all the races there, so workouts like these provide a good simulation of race day conditions. The times were 10:50, 10:37 and 10:43 with a three minute jogging rest. I would have liked to run the last one a bit quicker, but even with a 5:17 closing mile I had gone out too slow to dip below 10:40 again.

Because Julie and Brian were coming into town Saturday afternoon and I didn’t want them to waste part of their trip here waiting for me to run 22 miles, I planned to do another quick turnaround. I was out the door by 7am Saturday morning, ipod loaded with some of my favorite recent records and headed South down the Hudson. I covered 14 miles with only rare glimpses at the Garmin before meeting up with Meagan, also visiting, at Paragon Sports in Union Square so she could keep me company for the last 8 miles. By the end of the run, I had traveled nearly 23 miles at an unintentional, yet very comfortable speed of 6:45/mile. Getting the long run out of the way allowed for a worry-free Thai feast later in the evening with Meagan, Jordan (who is nursing an injury) and Julie and Brian. The next day, which was supposed to be an easy run with Meagan and Heidi, turned into me running with about 9 women and feeling like the creeper of the group. We kept the first 9 miles easy, but then Meagan and I picked it up heading down the Hudson River so she could make engagement. My legs were toast when I got back home.

I believe if you are going to run high mileage, run it consistently. One week at 90-100 miles is wasting your time. I train on a three weeks hard, one week easy schedule. I could not be more excited to be coming to the end of this current three week block. Last night’s team workout again focused on speed and turnover, and I don’t have either. I was able to hang on with the front pack from the duration of the ladder which started at 400 and climbed to 1200 before descending at a faster pace, but I wasn’t turning any heads. By the final 400, my legs felt like they were going to come out from under me. It’s easy to get disappointed when you are pushing harder than your times reflect, but I am trying to remember that you sometimes sacrifice that gear you need to hammer a 400 for stamina in the marathon.

One more long run tomorrow. 20 miles with the last 6 at marathon pace or faster, then a week to take it relatively easy for a 5K race. I hope 5000 meters is long enough for me to stick my nose in the competition.

And the Oscar Goes to...

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.

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

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

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

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...