Do that Twist, Shake it up Baby!

Well, not really. I was thinking of James Brown when I signed up for the road race but instead, a band that covers 200 Beatles songs, showed up. And let me tell you, they weren't doddy at all. It probably helped that they weren't wearing James brown wigs.

I had some companions on the run which made running in the blistering humidity that much more appealing despite my hatred of races. I only like competition on my own terms otherwise I am likely to opt out unless I'm pissed off. Then there's no limit.

But last night, it was refreshing to be on a course knowing that there were diehard good doobies who I actually liked even though they are all more committed than I am to the sport. Love the burn as I do, lasidaisical is my middle name.

To the point: I, who is seldom on time, arrived early to survive the race. I started out a bit too fast but reigned it in, walking three times and finishing with a race time of 35:30 and no vomit on my shoes. My own, accurate timing device clocked in at 34:20 so there. Of course, I was notch #403. While I'm darn proud of that speed, 402 people have pick up for me to contend with. Next month I want to at least be in the 300s. Inshallah. This is why I'm racing before Philly right? Feeling good an having fun while I'm at it.

This morning, as part of the post recovery, mid week race, I woke up to do the hottest, stickiest slip-n-slidiest yoga of my life. A Basics class turned wild with beads of sweat rolling into my eyelids, slipping down into my ears and squeaky sounds coming from the mat. I was soaked everywhere. EVERYWHERE!- this blog isn't' for the kids, I should have warned you. But of course, validity for the effort. The practice was worth it. Yoga is awesome for runners. Check out this article.

And now, I'm signing off. Good luck and good weekend, homies. Don't let the long run win!

Another Kick Off to Summer Fun Runs

I've been getting it on the pavement even though I've not been consistent here.

This weekend we ran on the bike path towards Woods Hole after breakfast. That proved to be a very stupid idea. Somerville had sent an advisory to its constituents, warning us of a heat advisory and asking us to check on our elderly neighbors. But still, wanting to get miles in, I thought, only the elderly without central air or ocean breezes might suffer from the heat. Ha, I was young and ignorant. It was sweltering- like sweat droplets everywhere. and by everywhere I mean everywhere. The chaffing heros would have given a standing ovation.

Hans, his sister and I ran the bike path, passed the ocean, and then into the shade before turning around. We set a good pace, all of us running strong. I ran solo the last stretch but only because I told myself that I could turn around only once I got into the shade. Mind over common sense: I'm seeing how well I can manipulate this psychology of my sport.

Yesterday, I ran after work. Running after 10AM is kind of kicking my ass and is, without apology, flipping obnoxious. No wonder you see men with their shirts off and gut hanging out, across the Charles and cutsie girls, the collegiate type in their pastels looking more cute than than buff out at 5pm.

Tonight there's another local race on the Charles to be followed by a nice cold beer and then I'd like to promise myself to get my ass out of bed and run in the morning. That is when running is quite, quite, nice. This weekend in Chi-town will be a start. My first "long run"... I have a half marathon coming up at the end of next month. I gotta start kicking it.

When the World is Ugly but There's no Thunder: Run.

I wonder if there's a saying that goes something like: If you're unhappy with your life, RUN. scratch that. If the 9-5 sucks: RUN. Hmmm. If you only live in your dreams, Run through your days. Oh CHEESE!

I borrowed inspiration for that last one from @sheamusburns. I too had a glorious dream last night. I was in Italia with La Relli su una strada piccolina, piccolina vicino a Santa Croce. It was one of the best dreams I've had in awhile. All my italian was not lost: I was fluent, they understood me. I understoond them and we laughed!! It was an amazing flow of conciousness and subconciousness. It was so real, almost tangible that I woke up singing in Italian. I'm going back anyway I can and while I don't think I'll stay, I'm gonna get there fast.

All this about dreams and finding that sweet bliss outside of the tedious, monotoneous boredom of the sterile brain, because I figured a few things out yesterday.

I ran along the Charles in the evening which was interesting for two reasons. First, I never run after work. If I did, I would never run, period, basta. Second, I ran on the chic side of the river, the beloved esplanade near Beacon Hill. So of course, there were lots of dogs sporting as accessories and that boston pandilla of white people everywhere. On the "muddier" side that I normally skip on, I see fat, skinny, baby stroller, pushing men, women, blondes, brunettes, and fuglies. I see it all co-existing. If not amiably as Prof. Gates would remind us. But on the desirable high rent side, I saw the Boston Type I. Dude, if Westchester is going to desegregate when will the metropolis of Boston start synthesizing the D&Gs with Tiffany blue???

To task. The point, lost somewhere up there. Is that despite my dull day and the inspipid pedestrians bottle necking the esplanade, I found my groove. It came after strong mental resistence, several watch checks and a tear of sweat burning my eye. But when it came, my mind detached from my body to the point where ironically, my mind, body and soul (had to do it) were all integrated perfectly. I smiled even though I was sans ipod. I was walking on sunshine.

It was a moment of: "I can do it" said in my sister's best bravado. I even passed a skinny young thang, too. I will get in shape and do well this november. Just watch me keepin on!

3.93 mi/35:59:16

Ain't over til the Fat Lady Sings

Or croaks. Or however you want to understand that I haven't forgotten that I have a marathon to run in three months. (3 months, oh sweet jesus!!)

I have taken a long, long time off from the blog, without announcement. Shame on me. But, never fear this cynosure has returned to write about her training attempts.

This weekend we got ourselves to Falmouth for the Road Race. H ran all 7 miles although he hadn't trained one mile since the 5K we ran in June. To my great disgrace, I ran only 5 miles. I don't know how I ever ran a marathon.

The winner ran 4:3X minute miles.

So as I choke, digesting that fact, I think I better up the ante!

Follow the Red Brick Road

Sometimes, when I wake and think about getting up for a run, my body feels like a bag of bricks. Mostly it's my eyes, and the bad voice in my head saying I can sleep five more minutes.

When I get up, I'm generally okay as long as I don't think too much and just leave the house. If the process of leaving the house takes longer than 6 minutes, it's basically a done deal.

Then the warm up. Now the run. Pavement, a pedestrian bridge, more cement. Brick path, to asphalt path to more bricks, sidewalk and then dirt. They say varying surfaces is good for your knees by building strength and allowing for recovery. They say. I actually like the brick. It's mostly level and gives for a dynamite stride. The shock absorption? yeah, well I don't know about that.

This course, does make me long for company. There are so many turning points that make it convenient to cut the trek short that having company helps extend the run mindlessly. A running buddy is much nicer than a race. Even if your speeds are slightly different, there's no rush. Sometimes, for me, racing feels like a panic and a pray for a happy ending. The advantage to the course is that there are always runners out. Mostly women around my age or slightly younger sprinkle the course when I get up; when I've run earlier, they're mostly older men.

What is it about the demographics of running?

And beyond that, why is running so darn attractive to some people? My mother ran. But she ran when she met my father (who is not, to any of my experience a runner, walker, trotter. He is most definitely a stroller, rather, a st-roool-ler. hear the undulation in the pace).

I love to run. I love the way my body feels after a run. I love the middle of the run when the cadence of my breath and my feet are the only things of which I'm conscious. There is no thought. I also love the sense of accomplishment. They way the entirety of the day that follows is so simple, so relative. And, that I own it. I own the good runs, the bad runs, the difficult mornings and the late nights.

My sister hates to run. And for some folks, it's harder than it is for others. Some bodies are not meant for running - fast or slowly. The chemistry lacks. And then there are the die hards in which every day is a race, every moment is a competition against the clock, against their self worth.

All I know is that I'm doing what I love and trying to do it well. (oh. and getting ready for Philly. right.)
There's no use doing anything else these days.

Runner's Digest- May 2009

While it's been some time, I have been moving, hitting the pavement here and there. My cool Nike watch, courtesy of HBG), has stored every run since Jan 09. And now, along with all the pre marathon day training, I have some post marathon runs saved. The data capacity on that device is incredible!

While I bailed on the Hyannis 1/2, we instead ran on the bike path and down Sippewissett on the Cape. I ran the charles alone and then Charles with the Somerville Road Runners last week for a 5.2 mi event. (43:39 digital nike/43:50 race clock)

Last night, I ran a 5K Road Race in Sharon, MA. A speedy co-worker who got me back into running along the charles when I moved to Boston joined me with her daughter. It was a great night. And boy, did her wheels keep me motivated. I crossed the first mile marker at 7:05. That time alone practically gave me a heart attack. But, no worries. Keep on keeping on, I panted. While the pace slowed, I am extremely proud to report that I crossed the finish line in 24:49 (official digital Nike watch time). I can't believe I broke 25 minutes. I am no speed racer. And, although it's subjective, I finished 5th in my age group. Yup, that's right. Those 20 and Forever 21's mostly ended up behind me. And the girl who finished 3rd. Well, skinny, mini her, just placed first in some race the other weekend. So la-ti-da!

One of my favorite parts of the course was at the end, running by the lake. Also memorable were the teen boys on their bikes. Young teens, still good kids, they cheered us on. Kid #3 also waved to me and then peed his pants(no lie) as he said, "my mom told me there'd be a race. So, that's why I'm here now. see?" Yes, kid. I SEE you. I see you pee.

Oh boy, let the tangental outbursts ring!

Boys and peeing has got to be a special phenomenon. While it's much cooler and easier to pee just about anywhere, last week, at the Cape where this two week running frenzy began we witnessed the best of the best. I think his mother is hoping he won't be an exibitionist, but I can attest he has it well under wraps.

We arrived on Friday, sat in the sun for a bit. Ate our sandwiches and beer. Along comes a Mom with her two girls who are likely aged 5 and 9. Mom is a jerkface, telling her kids that they're playing in muddy sand is "disgusting" and that they look ridiculous with a floating device anchored at their waist. For the record, as much as I'm not interested in mothering, Puhleez!! I don't think it matters if you look ridiculous while playinig, especially if the item making you look ridiculous is a life safing device...

I digress. Mom + 2 come along. Plop down and eat. Boy aged three with companion/brother/friend/neighbor, comes with him. They venture to the rocks, near where the girls our. Our good friend: boy aged three, drops his pants, faces the girls and pees.

Next, he runs with his pants, still down across to his mother, who has gotten up to prevent the disaster in the first place. (She is not a runner. at least, her shape suggested she was not). She says, "That is NOT the way you pee in the water!!" Then, he ran away from her. She apologies to us, to Mom B who probably thought the whole thing repulsive and then tries to capture, pants below knees boy.

The final scene has girl, aged 8 or 9 showing girl aged 5 the proper way to pee in the water.

For the record. I don't pee in the water or while running.

The end

Olympians