Things of Summer

We are surrounded by the Dog Days of Summer, but it seems more like a pack of cramp-inflicting, uber-sweat-inducing, make you beg for a sprinkler to coordinate with your run and allow a few brief drops of cool water to caress you days of summer. I personally blame Sirius.

But, I'd like to express my deepest sympathies to all runners living in the Southeaster and South-central parts of the country, who have to deal with 100+ temps today. I think it sucks to have 73 degrees and crazy humidity at 7am, while y'all are starting at 80+ at 6ish.

Sorry my running friends, sorry.

Two Runners: One Abode (Dude Version)

or, Why I have Decorative Towels and a New Shower Curtain


Number of towels (and bathmats) in bathroom prior to the arrival of R = 5

Number of towels (and bathmats) in bathroom actually used = 5 (2 bathmats, 2 towels, one hand towel)

Number of towels (and bathmats) in bathroom now = 8

Number of towels (and bathmats) in bathroom actually used now= 4 (So help me understand, I have three more towels and somehow end up with one less towel to use?!?)

Average number of bananas prior to the arrival of R = 3

Current average number of bananas at any given time = 46

Number of clothes racks prior to arrival of R = 1

Number of clothes racks currently = 2 (one for clean clothes and one for dirty clothes because…oh I just give up on that one)

Number of runners who put sauce on pasta prior to the arrival of R = 1

Number of runners who now put sauce on pasta now = 1 (sure, she puts some parmesan cheese on it, but your pasts feels all naked and self-conscious…I just know it)

Average size of Body Glide container in apartment prior to the arrival of R = 2.5oz

Average size of Body Glide container now = 1.475oz (I didn’t know they made Body Glide in containers that small—if this isn’t instantly funny, do the math)

Average number of individuals in line waiting for bathroom prior to the arrival of R = 0

Average number of individuals in line waiting for bathroom now = 1 (how she always manages to get there before me is baffling—I mean I’m faster than she is…I think)

Number of times someone was there to encourage me to get out of bed and run prior to the arrival of R = 0

Number of times someone was there to encourage me to get out of bed and run now = at least 15

Number of times I’ve seen R while we are out on our own run = 2

Average amount of time spent on Maymyrun.com per person = 1 hour per week

Percent increase in happiness since the arrival of my best-est friend and amazing girlfriend = 1000% (even if I’m without the use of one extra towel)

A Love Letter of Sorts

Dear Shower Curtain,

This may be the most difficult letter I’ve ever written. As I’m sure you’ve noticed there have been some changes around the homestead. There has been a lot more use of cleaning products, putting items away after they are used, and even a concerted effort to pick-up the unending supply of discarded arm hairs and nose hairs.

Can you believe we have been together for over a decade? Think about it, our relationship has lasted longer than presidential terms and an entire series of VH1’s I love the (insert decade of your choice). We’ve seen the conclusion of Dawson’s Creek, the entire series of Lost, and more baseball games than is worth counting. And through that time you have always been there for me. Hanging strong and proud. You never balked at when I disrobed, never flinched when I accidentally turned on the cold water first. Like a loyal and true friend you moved with me from home to home.

But our time has come to an end. Like Abbott and Costello, Bill and Ted, Tina and Ike, and Peanut Butter and Jelly; the curtain is descending. I’m sure you are going to be stunned into silence by this revelation, and that you may protest by hanging around lifelessly; all of these are to be expected. But this change is going to happen.

Not that it will mean much, but it’s not your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. And, just between you and me, it isn’t of my choosing either. I know, I know, don’t cry. I can see the drips beading up on your liner right now. It’s, well…it’s complicated. See, the Redhead is moving in this weekend. I’m very excited about this change. I’m ecstatic. But she has suggested (read: demanded) that you go.

I pleaded for you. I begged. But she said, and I quote, “I hate it.” It’s not your fault. I swear. Only, please understand, mature adult relationships are complicated. Sometimes things become more than just stuff, but that transition isn’t always noticeable to everyone else. Sometimes a home means two people purchasing stuff as a symbol to the world, a manifesto so to speak, about what the relationship stands for. And I’m sure you did your best to make her feel comfortable; but when forced to chose, I have to let you go.

I’ll do my best to place you in a nice home. Maybe one with a big bathroom with two sinks and heated floor tiles. I’ll even try to come and visit as often as possible. But we both know we are going our separate ways.

So. Goodbye.

Spike

(Belated) Boston Breakdown

Part I: Pre-Race

Briefly, I want to thank a few people who made my first Boston experience amazing. Initially, I’d like to thank Buck & Bunny (my parents) as well as Mooney & Thor (my sister and her husband) for making the trip to Bean Town (or is it Beantown?).

Next, I want to thank the B.R.A., all of whom were excellent and fun. I can understand why the Redhead and B.o.B. love them so much. I have a man crush on them from hereon out. Plus, they (as you will read later) gave me the hook-up of all hook-ups by letting me hang in the pre-race house. Yep, while others were standing around or plopping their legs on the schoolyard grounds, I had a comfortable home with no bathroom line to speak of. Jealous? You should be.

After arriving on Friday night and taking the long way to the hotel, the Redhead and I made our way to one of what would turn out to be many amazing restaurant recommendations from Failed Muffins. Then, although rightly stuffed, the Redhead found a Taco Bell (I did say it was Friday after all). So good. So full.

We awoke early Saturday to navigate the T and make our way to the expo. As Sun Runner calls it; ‘porn for runners.’ I bought a lot of stuff. Lots of stuff. What can I say, it was my first Boston. Generally, the expo was good, but not great. Very crowded and a poor layout. But it was still the Boston Marathon Expo. And one of the best things was seeing the older Boston Marathon jackets, from 1998 and such. Next we headed to Harvard. There, I demonstrated my massive intellect whilst making fun of Harvard kids by reminding them that their football team sucks and that Elle Woods dated Luke Wilson…yeah, the guy doing TV commercials now. Then we met up with Buck and Bunny for some fine Boston eating. Finally, exhausted, we went home.

Sunday I watched the Redhead destroy her 5K pr. But I’ll let her tell you about that. Then there was the successful blogger meet-up. It was awesome to meet so many runner/bloggers. Sadly, I didn’t get a chance to spend as much time with as many of you as I would have liked; and I’m sorry. Shortly after the blogger brunch, we went to see Thor and Mooney for a quick hello.

Soon thereafter the Redhead and I joined the B.R.A. for a pre-marathon pasta dinner. There the fine members of the B.R.A. treated me as if I was one of their own. Something I’m sure they only did because of their profound admiration of the Redhead. They were so kind they didn’t even ask me why I had to excuse myself to the restroom 378 times.

No sooner had the plates been swept away than I was trying to get to sleep for my first Boston Marathon. Yay!!!

Part II: Race Day

Get on the bus Gus. Again, I would be lost without the B.R.A. Under the aegis of the B.R.A. I was able to avoid the massive lines for the plastic poop buckets and prepare for the race in a comfortable home which was right across the street from the athlete village. There is nothing like being surrounded by a 'one person deep' bathroom line and countless years of Boston running experience.

One thing you don’t know about until you are doing it is this, there is a bit of distance that must be covered from the athlete village to the stating line, maybe over half a mile. And it’s a little too crowded to really use it as a warm up—just a little something to store away. (My bus driver on the right)

Despite rain and cloudy weather up to that point, race morning was without a sun in the sky and 50 degrees at the start. Such running weather is ideal for most runners, but not for Spike. Spike prefers to run under Eeyore skies. The sun, unhindered by any clouds and streaking towards is apex, is not such a good thing for me to run a marathon under.

But I was there, toeing the line, and excited as all crap. Fighter jets flew overhead and we were off. I took it easy, didn’t get caught up with the rush down the first mile or the second mile. I was playing it smart, getting water at every mile. The sun remained a steady sentinel for the first half of the race.

As I was approaching the fabled Wellesley College, the amatory girls could be heard screaming like crazy. This part of the race was amazing, but I ran swiftly through the sea of sirens without stopping—my iPod serving as Odyssues' wax. Moreover, I knew my sweet reward awaited at the finish line.

Alas, despite the massive surge in adrenaline, it was around the half-way point where I had to take stock. I knew I had to slow down, or push forward and risk a disastrous result; also, I knew I was already beginning to cramp.

I slowed a bit, and cruised into the Newton Hill, where the cramps exploded at the first uphill. I pulled aside, tried to relax and stretch them out—but nothing worked. I started moving again and could run at a slow pace, but when I tried to push it, the calfs cramped up. I blame Nitmos.

This is where the weather and the hills bogged down my race, but not my spirits. I just kept smiling knowing Buck and Bunny were at the end of mile 22. I stopped to say hi, and continued to pick off the last few miles—making sure to walk through each water station and drink and entire cup of water (and sometimes some Gatorade).

When the legs cramped up, I walked a bit. I took the time to enjoy the entire experience and the crowd. The crowds were amazing everywhere, and even more so in Boston College. Nothing like drunken college fans ‘encouraging’ you on.

Finally, I turned the last corner and began my lookout for the Redhead—whom I noticed and kissed with great excitement. Then, I made my way down the last .2 miles (or so) and finished. Exhausted, battered, thrilled, and victorious.

I didn’t kill this course by any means, it was one of my slowest time I ever run; but I didn’t let the course kill me either. I took what I could from that day with the knowledge that I’ll be back again.

A Race Recap Before Boston

Overdue? Yes. But funny? Yes.

I can say with all honesty that my running career exists solely because of McDonalds. Seriously. It was shortly after I discovered the wonderfullness of McDonald's French fries that my parents began to insist I 'go outside and be active or 'go run around for a while.'* It was as if my love of fast food and running were forged from the same fire, and the Ronald McDonald Run for the House is the perfect opportunity to help support a struggling millionaire get his mega-uber-big-home off the foreclosure block.

I've been wanting to race the Run for the House for a few years now, but it was traditionally held during the dead of summer. Fortunately, a few years ago RftH took the late March spot previously held by the Food & Fitness 5K. Plus, and I'm just being honest with you, you can run this race wearing authentic Ronald McDonald socks. For a slight additional cost, you can get an official pair of white and red striped thigh-high socks. Something a fine little running redhead seemed quite confounded about. But I digress.


As this race is a family 5K, there was a kids race beforehand. And Ronald himself was there to encourage the little tykes along. At that moment it seemed everyone was having the best of times. After the kids finished and were given a medal regardless of when they finished, the approximately 600 runners lined up for the main event. And this, my friends, is when things began to go wrong...horrifically and wonderfully wrong.


The start was a 'V' shaped funnel; and someone decided it would be a 'great' idea to have Ronald ‘thank us’ for allowing him to add the 30,ooo square foot addition he has been longing for (and to finally finish gold plating his indoor 12 lane bowling alley). The ‘great’ idea continued by suggesting Ronald \start the race. As you can see be the picture below, old Ronald started the race about 10 feet from the starting line. The starting line! The starting line, you know, that place where the fastest runners line up first and sprint at the sound of "Go!" or any loud bang. Yep, that starting line.

I crossed the start, started my Garmin, and as I began to look up a kid came darting out from my right, causing me to cut a hard left to avoid him. And that is when I saw it, a huge mass of yellow and red...directly in front of me.


I hit that clown the way my SUV hit a deer, putting my left shoulder into his body and sending him spinning like a top. Clown down. I myself, for this is my blog, barely managed to keep my balance, having to use my hands to prop myself back up. After finally regaining my balance, my 5K race began. I tucked in behind a few quicker runners and let them pull me through a solid first mile, but I just couldn’t find that second gear and toughness to stay strong the second mile. After getting passed by one runner at the start of the third mile, I managed to surge a bit and passed two runners before coasting into a solo finish and assured ag award.

And, as if getting flattened by some ‘jerk’ runner isn’t bad enough, imagine the indignation he felt when he had to give me my ag award. Sure, I could have said I was sorry, and could have been the bigger man. But I didn’t. Nope, I just made the most of our little moment and whispered “I own you” as we were photographed together. A wonderful little moment captured in a picture.

* It is also true that my love of reading exists because of Pizza Hut. Were it not for the wonderful summer program where reading 5 books scored you a personal pan pizza, I likely would have followed my initial desire to remain illiterate for the duration of my life. And if you don't think illiteracy is funny, you likely can't read this anyway.

They Say the Old Adage is True

At the risk of opening myself up for public mockery; since the weather has broken and we have had an unprecedented string of sunny and quasi-warm days, I oft find myself singing John Denver’s “Annie’s Song” and even Cat Steven’s “Morning Has Broken.” *Begin dispensing of insults as if you were flinging rotting fruit at Quasimodo.

I remain somewhat stymied when it comes to how to fit meaningful training into my new work schedule…let alone time to post and comment. But since March 1st I have hit every scheduled run. On one particular morning I had to run early or forfeit my chance to run at all. I laid in bed and struggled with it—even though the weather was perfect for morning running. But I got up and got outside, and I ran. When it was all said and done, I was thrilled I’d done it.

So, like they say: You never regret a run you do, but you always regret runs you skip. So true. The problem is that I feel the exact same way with stopping at McDonalds for a large chocolate (or Mint in honor of St. Patty’s Day) shake and large fries. Seriously, I have been known to bitterly bring up the fact that I didn’t get a late night McRush a few days prior.

Last weekend I had a 24M run on the schedule. I dropped it to 22M because my attempt to run 22M on a treadmill two week prior was a complete fail (only 17M). I chose the hills-of-hell route. I paid dearly. I was aiming for a 7:30/M average. I hit a 7:40/M average. Now, it isn’t the end of the world, but with only one 20M+ run left, I’m sure I’m not ready to run anything close to a 7:15/M average necessary to BQ at Boston.

Which is good, because I haven’t planned to try that, and because I’m just not there. The timing of this training and the weather have successfully conspired to frustrate my training, so I’m going there to run hard and run for fun. My plan is to hit a 3:30, or a comfortable 8:00/M pace.

But let’s just be honest as a dollar-eating goat, I’ll probably get there and hit the first few miles at an easy 7:10 and think “Why not Spike? Go for it! The Gods favor you today.” And I’ll go for it. And somewhere around Heartbreak Hill ‘it’ will come back with vengeance. Just as Pandora is fated to open the box, so am I fated to wholeheartedly ignore my ‘race plan.’

I love running.

There Always is a Silver Lining

Last Friday the weather took a deep drawn in breath. As I drove home from the rare Friday night meeting the weather was calm and placid. Because someone had to attend a secret dinner cooked by ninjas, and because my wonderful girlfriend was preparing to rock her marathon (quick: go tell her what a great job she did), I quickly rearranged my schedule to head out of town by noon on Saturday. This meant I had to get my 22M run in early Saturday morning—no matter what.

While thinking about my upcoming long run and driving down the highway, Winter exhaled. Snow. Hard, heavy, wet snow, carried on angry winds. And caught and ripped away in this late February storm went any hope I had of a quality long run outside. I had no choice, 22M indoors.

Yes, I was going to attempt to do 22M on a treadmill.

It was a fail. I had to stop after 17M. I honestly think I was hallucinating. The fact that there is even a record for most miles run on a treadmill in a 24 hour period is insane.

But a bad long run is not unexpected during marathon training. However, there is some fortunate news. The temps finally moved above freezing. Today, the sun is shining and snow is melting off of sidewalks. On the first day of March, the chokehold Winter has had on this part of the County loosened. The white knuckled grip slackened a bit, enough to provide the most important training tool—hope. A deep gasp of hope. Exactly what I needed.

Today, for the first time, I feel hope about the remainder of my training for Boston. And I can tell you that this break and the arrival of beautiful are not simply coincidence.