I recently enjoyed a talk by a famous local runner / travel show host on the joys of destination running. Coincidently, of the eight (nine?) marathons I’ve run, only one has been in my home country. Not because I don’t like my home country, but because (as you all know from my months of whining) I don’t like training during the summer and there are few Nov/Dec/Jan races in my home jurisdiction. Continue reading
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged Boston Marathon, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running, ultramarathon, weather, winter
I briefly met Dane at one of those race expo author signings (Marine Corps, I think). And by met I mean I bought his book (See Dane Run by Dane Rauschenberg: check out his blog) and he signed it for me. He wrote: Chase your dreams. You will catch them. Even though he wrote that to everyone, I thought it was sweet. I’m very susceptible to sweet during race weekend. And he was very kind, posing for an author photo with me for my stalker collection. I think he even asked me to send him a copy, but I forgot until just now. I’m sure he’s still forgotten. Prior to stumbling across his kiosk at the expo I had never heard of Dane, his challenge, or his book. But I was intrigued. I had recently read Dean’s book, 50/50 (read my review), which was 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. However, only a handful of those were real-time marathons, i.e. held during an official marathon event. The rest were re-enactments. Dane ran 52 certified marathons, one every weekend for a year. The travel alone would kill me.
I’ll begin where I always begin, by judging a book by its cover. As always, we see the author, alone, mid-run. This time atop a globe – which is a little misleading given that only three of his races were outside the US, two and a half (yes, just half) of those were in neighbouring Canada, and the third in the Cayman Islands. Hardly the worldly runner the cover presents. But it is a small twist on the lone runner on a road motif that seems to dominate running autobiography covers. My softcover has no separate author photo, but the back cover shows a finish line Dane pointing at the heavens and the book is filled with those look-at-my-bicep finish line poses that some runners seem to enjoy. I would look ridiculous if I tried. Instead I opt for a not-so-horrifying-I-run-to-the-nearest-plastic-surgeon pose. It seldom works.
Dane is a guy’s guy. This may be a book for a guy’s guy. He runs in a singlet emblazoned with his college name and teases other runner’s about the athletic prowess of his school’s football team. He wanted to be a college football player. He likes to playfully smack talk other runners (although, I think it is playful but serious). This guy is definitely a competitor. Every race recap recounted the number of people he passed in the last few kilometres, his final placing, his time and the excuses for his time (I needed to save myself for more being the most common one. It’s a good one). This is a guy who keep score. Not someone, in other words, to whom I can easily relate. Although I do make an effort to pass all costumed runners and shirtless men. And my birthday wish was for a more competitive edge. Which I just ruined by sharing. DAMN those complicated wish rules.
As for the book, I loved the challenge. I didn’t love that he called it “Fiddy2″. Like the finish line arm guns, I just can’t get away with the “Fiddy2″ slang. I sound weird when I say it. Maybe it was catchy marketing ploy, but my inner school teacher cringed every time I read it. Which was about a million times.
The very first paragraph of the book mentioned The Clock. Time is theme throughout, as the weeks pile on and Dane’s time goals shift. In an unexpected direction. In sentence two he reminds us that other sports have a clock that shows you that time escaping, running has one that counts up, piling onto a total that starts at zero. You do not lose time in a race; rather, you gain it. And you hope, when all is said and done, that you have gained as little as possible. Thank you for the reminder. As if that taunting little man on my GPS isn’t reminder enough.
Before Dane started this 52 Marathon quest he had run only six marathons. Six! His first in 4.15 and his fastest in 3.09. People thought he was crazy. Sure he could run, but six is a long way from fifty-two. I mean Fiddy2. A long, long way. Never underestimate the potential of a stubborn determined athlete with good recovery genetics. I like that he provided a race recap for every race he ran. That said, the recaps did get rather repetitive after a while. Travel snafus, weather, shower taps, jockeying for position with other runners. His highs and lows are relatable. He is honest about happy but disappointing finishes even the time is decent. He grumbles about race etiquette (read: four abreast runners blocking the path for faster racers). He laments moving into a more competitive age category (from under 30 to the winning 30-35 group). He appreciates a course with consistent water tables and an elevation map that is a reasonable approximation of the route. Like the rest of us, he lies about going slow in a race. We don’t mean to lie, but we do. Totally relatable.
He gets faster as the year goes on. That right, faster. Defying all logic he gets stronger, running three of his four fastest at the end of the year. One of the most interesting parts of the book was reading to see just how fast he would get. I won’t ruin it for you. Watch for 52 Marathons to Boston, coming soon to a bookstore near you.
I loved that the book contained detailed, albeit somewhat repetitive, race reports; but what the book missed was the personal story. Often I find running books too heavily tipped towards the non-running details, but this book is a rare reversal. How did this challenge impact his job, his bank account, his love life? He seemed to flirt a lot on course, but did he have a girlfriend during this year-long challenge? Did he have a girlfriend by the end of it? What does he do to make money? How many vacation days did he use? What type of training did he do between races? Did he do anything other than run? What did his coworkers think of his quest? His family? Did he ever what to quit? How much money did he raise for the charity he mentioned on every page? How much money did this challenge cost (he wasn’t a sponsored runner)? I’m left with so many questions. Sure I know the Leadville elevation and that he ran two Leadville’s that day (his first and his last, ha), but I’m left wanting more. I just read an autobiographical book and I know very little about the biographer. Maybe the facts would be enough for the guy’s guy. The facts are not enough for this running reader.
Sidebar: I would be remiss to ignore his Canadian side-trips. Northern hospitality met his expectations and the race reviews were very positive. At one point he boldly claimed “Canada Loves Dane”. Given our limited interaction I can not verify that statement. Marathon #19 was in Mississauga and his experience with the fierce Lake Ontario wind mirrored by own, even though we were separated by one year. Weirdly, in response to his own confusion over the lack of mile markers (which, really, this is a surprise?), he decides that mid race is an appropriate place to make stale language jokes and seems confused when no one gets his “humour”. Erm, that’s a pet peeve slipping through. In the fall he travelled north to run #29, the Nova Scotia Marathon, amid a tropical storm (don’t Blame Canada) and placed third overall. There were only three runners. Just kidding. His third trip north of the border for #42 was during the marathon. Actually during the marathon. That’s why it only counts as a half. This one is on my to-do-list: The Niagara Falls Marathon, a two country border-crossing race. It is also a notable race in Fiddy2 for reasons that require a spoiler alert. So I’ll keep quiet.
Runshort’s Rating: 3/5 shoes.
Posted in Reviews on the Run
Tagged books, celebrity, exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon
I am not a vegetarian, but my meat-eating is infrequent relative to the average North americanus carnivorous. I eat meat about once a week. According to Wikipedia, that makes me a flexitarian, which is some sort of made-up word for people who can’t commit, i.e. “a vegetarian who occasionally eats meat”. For the record, I would never refer to myself as a vegetarian and the word flexitarian is way too pretentious to ever use in social conversation. My weekly murder is usually of fish variety. And if I’m being truthful, it’s fish from the canned tuna family. I probably have mercury poisoning. Once every couple of months I’ll eat a bird of some sort. Like a Thanksgiving Turkey. A few times a year a larger farm animal, like an adorable cow with big doopy eyes, crosses my plate. I try not to think about it.
After the New York City Marathon, my second marathon in eight days, I regressed into a some sort modern predator, eating the food hunted (fine, mass farmed) and euthanized (fine, slaughtered) by others. At the Team Fox post race party the caterers offered me lovely green salads, grilled vegetables, and pasta stuffed with goat cheese and spinach. No, no, and no. Meat I said. I need to eat meat. I ate salmon. Chicken. A mini-cheeseburger. Okay, two mini-cheeseburgers. Okay, three. The waiters tried to entice me with side dishes to compliment my meat. I finally agreed to a grilled tomato covered in cheese. I only ate the cheese. For the first time ever I bit into a mysterious “food” called a pig-in-a-blanket (I was told it had meat in it), but it was so repulsive I spit it back into my napkin (discretely of course). The next day I ate a grown-up sized cheeseburger. I doubled my yearly consumption of red meat in two days. Now I have mad cow disease and mercury poisoning.
I have always been of the ‘if you crave it your body needs it’ mindset, which is why I eat so much chocolate. Obviously my cells need the antioxidants in cocoa. Who am I to deprive my needy cells? Still, my meaty binge seems excessive, no matter what my demanding cells may say. I think I need to go to the Humane Society and sponsor a kitten to atone. That said, my legs aren’t nearly as tired as they were after my Marine Corps vegetarian post-race dinner. Coincidence? I try not to think about it.
Title Reference: The Smiths – Meat is Murder. From the album Meat is Murder. 1984.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, food, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
I am officially a Marathon Maniac. Husband is now a maniac twice over. Double the madness. Actually, it’s not official unless I officially join. I now qualify to become a Marathon Maniac, albeit the lowest calibre of maniac. The Marathon Maniacs are, quite simply, people who run a heck of a lot of marathons. They also pay an annual membership fee ($35 initial membership cost, $10 annual renewal, $58 for the singlet featuring the crazy-eyed runner).
Marathon Maniacs are classified according to their degree of insanity, from a little loopy to certifiably insane. To wit,
#1. BRONZE LEVEL (translation, a little loopy):
1. Back to Back Marathons* (two marathons in consecutive weekends, races can be run on either Saturday or Sunday).
2. Two Marathons in 3 weeks.
3. Three Marathons in 3 months.
Note: Husband has met the bronze criteria 1 and 2 and he attests that 1 is immeasurably harder than 2.
… (Click to view the levels in between. Stop complaining, I can’t do all the work.)
#9. TITANIUM LEVEL (translation, certifiably insane):
1. 52 Marathons or more in one calendar year.
2. 30 Marathons in 30 US States, Countries, or Canadian Provinces (any combination) in 1 calendar year.
3. 20 Countries in one calendar year.
Note: I will NEVER become a titanium maniac. Never.
*My double-header (Marine Corps Marathon October 25 and New York City Marathon November 1) meet criteria 1 under the bronze level. I am only a little loopy. Time difference between 1 and 2 = 14 minutes. 14 long, my god what happened to my hamstrings and why is 5th avenue uphill, minutes. Both were BQs, which was my secret goal. Still, I won’t do this again (at least not anytime soon). Turns out I’m saner than suspected.
Title Reference: Michael Sembello – Maniac. From the album Bossa Nova Hotel and Flashdance Soundtrack. 1983.
Posted in My Amazing Races, Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
After a lackluster half marathon three weeks ago my Marine Corps Marathon plans were left unsettled. Play it safe or attempt a PB? I left it up to fate. Weather fate. Friday and Saturday the ever-changing weather network predicted a combination of hot, humid, and sunny and I revised my time goal to survival. Saturday was grotesque, the morning humidity zapping all energy and an afternoon storm that left me clutching me head with a barometric migraine. Fast forward to Sunday morning. 10C with a nip in the air. Although the temperatures climbed to 15C with lots of sun with challenging -but cooling- wind gusts, it could have been worse. Way worse. I knew the DC weather was a risk. I prefer running in sub-10C, but with the low humidity the heat didn’t destroy me. Hurdle #1, the weather.
I easily found my way to my starting corral, which was way too close to the canon for my liking so I hung back a bit. I stopped for a last minute pee in the bushes (my first ever pre-race nature stop – there no time for the line and no port-a-loos at the front) where I used my handy mylar blanket to offer me a nugget of privacy. A woman with very liberal personal space boundaries said, “oh yay, another woman”, and plopped herself directly in front of me such that we were peeing face-to-face as she babbled away about the masses of men lining the railroad tracks. I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried to pee with a chatty stranger perched inches from your nose, but let me assure, it is not easy. The only blessing, she was the one downstream. Back to the corral. Hurdle #2, the pre-race pee.
The National Anthem echos, the jets fly overhead, and the canon blasts. The race begins. Husband, who started closer to the blast, said his ears were ringing for the next 10K. What can I say about the Marines? The organization – from the expo to the aid station – was exceptional. Their race support was phenomenal. All my words are gushing. This course is gorgeous. The fall colours cascaded over the roads and trails and the entire city just lit up in the fall sun. I was surprised by the quiet trail-like sections, I had envisioned a city-street course. I loved the mix of parks, neighbourhoods, and big city sights. The first 10K is hilly, but on fresh legs I rolled along. The greatest danger was in sidestepping the wheeled participants who were given a scant 15 minute head start, fell behind on the uphills, then tried to pass runners at crazy speeds on the downhills all the while screaming move, MOVE! I saw one crash and I suspect it wasn’t the only one of the day. By the 13.1 mile mark I was exactly on pace and feeling groovy. Hurdle #3, the half marathon.
The wind picked up during the second half of the race and I tried my best to draft behind the big guys. Problematically, there were few big guys and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. The course twists and turns, which is hard on momentum but great for wind – with so many u-turns I never had to run into the wind for more than a mile before getting a break. The crowds were amazing. Best sign: Don’t Poop Your Pants! They obviously read my Spectator Guide. In one spot there was water to my right and crowds up a hill about 20 deep on my left and a grand bridge straight ahead. The course was so loopy I have no idea if this happened at 12K or 22K, but it was my favourite race image of the day and maybe even all time. I’m not ashamed to admit I was overcome with happiness. Just past 30K a man suddenly dodged in front of me before hurling up at least five gels on the side of the course. I’m thankful he took to the sidelines. Moments later the woman directly in front of me pooped her pants. Yes, I saw it happen in real time. I guess she didn’t see the sign. She didn’t even hesitate, just kept going. Make note, we had just passed an aid station for water for cleansing. I am not that driven. On the upside, I picked up my pace because I certainly didn’t want to be in range if round two followed. Hurdle #3, the 30K.
Now the race really begins. The bridge. The infamous Beat the Bridge. For back-of-the-packers there is a time cutoff and if you don’t get to the bridge before the cutoff a sweep bus hauls you back to the finish line with the scarlet DNF on your chest. The 1.5 miles along this bridge are the worst miles of the course. You pass 20 miles just before the bridge, so the toughest bit of the course, the part of the race with it’s own scary name (The Wall), is on this bridge. I hate that bridge. That long, hot, nearly spectator free bridge. I lost a little mojo on that bridge. I hope someone found it and put it to good use. The bridge was lined with the bodies of fallen runners stretching out cramping muscles. The bridge took a toll. Following the bridge is the blur of Crystal City’s bright flags and screaming crowds. The two sections are almost comically different. Crystal City brought me back to life. And led back to one last long and lonely stretch of road before the race to the finish. Hurdle #4, The Wall.
I never saw the 26 mile marker. My Garmin was off by about .5K (maybe because of weaving and running off the tangents due to crowds) and I lost all sense of time and distance. I searched for the mile marker but the huge crowds and competing signs confused my tired brain. All of a sudden someone said it’s just around the corner. And for once they weren’t exaggerating. Yikes! I turned the corner to the hill, tried to power up, and off to my right was the finish shoot. As I crossed the finish line a man thanked me for pulling him up the hill. You’re welcome. My finishing kick came a bit too late and I missed my goal time by two seconds. That’s right, two seconds. I didn’t realize I was that close - I certainly had another two seconds in the tank. I did run almost perfect splits – my second half was just 16 seconds slower than my first half. Not too bad given that soul-sucking bridge. The marathon was a PB and will improve my 2010 Boston corral, so all in all a good day of running. Hurdle #5, Finishing.
After a few post-race photos later Husband found me and we walked to the metro for the journey back to the hotel. As we headed down into the station throngs of people were arriving to meet their loved ones. We waited about 4 minutes for the train, but later heard horror stories from people who finished just 30 minutes behind us. Hour long waits just to enter the metro station or 500 person taxi line-ups. We returned to the hotel, showered, stalked people online, then headed back out for some touristing before dinner. As we left some people were just getting back to the hotel. We just missed the hours of standing around post-race. Thank you to good luck. We spent a lovely afternoon walking around DC with medals hanging around our necks. Everywhere we went friendly people asked about the race and showered us with congratulations. We capped the night with a marathon-sized dinner amongst my running-mates. That was no hurdle. That was darn good fun.
Title Reference: The Killers – All These Things that I’ve Done. From the album Hot Fuss. 2004.
Posted in My Amazing Races
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, running
After a marathon I wear my medal all day. Even if all day means lounging at home, in my PJs, watching bad movies, and eating “Smart”food popcorn. Sunday afternoon I strutted around DC with my giant shiny medal in full view. At the giant foot of Abe Lincoln a nice family came up to me and, at the nudging of her offspring, the mom asked if I ran the marathon. I said yes. She asked if I won. I said no. So she asked about the medal. I said they give everyone a medal, even the people who don’t win. She said “how nice” and asked if her kids could put their sticky germ-ridden hands on it. I said yes, then repolished and sanitized it after they walked away. A friend wore his to a pub for a post-race pint and had a similar conversation with the bar matron, who assumed that the big-ass medal meant he had won the race. His conversation ended with a snooty, oh they give those medals to everyone?
Did you win is my favourite marathon question. My second favourite, as you may remember, is how far is this marathon? I think most people imagine the races of their school days and picture eight people lining up on a track, where the odds of a win seem reasonable. They do not envision a mass 20,000 starting in waves from faster to slower (in theory), where the odds of winning decrease as the distance from the start line increases. I like to give people some random number, like I finished 1113. Then I tell them the winner ran in the Olympics. I imagine they are suitably impressed with my ability to run far behind the elite.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, running
I’m feeling rather sappy about running. Getting all weepy during the touching Run Fatboy Run. Making authors pose with me for lame photos before defacing my book with inspiring words. Must be that time of the month. You know what time I mean. Race time.
My sappy tune will change around 10:40 am Sunday morning. At that moment I’m expecting my feelings about running it be more complex. And by complex I mean negative.
By 11:10 am I’ll either be back to sappy or deteriorating into an unrecognizable shell of my former self.
At some point I’ll cross the finish line and feel the pride of victory or the pain of defeat (or, quite possibly, the pain of da feet, ouch).
Either way I’ll feel sweet sweet relief.
Title Reference: Morris Albert – Feelings. From the album Feelings. 1975.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
Scale matters. Take the Marine Corps Marathon elevation chart. Elevation varies from 0-250 feet. Which is enough to add excitement, but is not ridiculous. The chart, however, sends shivers down my spine to my little stick legs. Stick legs that would be challenged by mountainous terrain. I look at this chart and three monster hills stare back at me, sizing me up. This chart is misleading, but maybe that’s a good thing. Prepare for the worst and expect the best, or something like that. It may only be a 250 foot climb, but on legs that need to conserve energy for a 42.2k journey the rule is to multiply every elevation gain by three. I made up that rule just now, but I stand by it. Using my marathon math, the first hill climbs to 750 feet, the second hill to 450 feet, and the final hill to 300 feet. I’m still not sure what kind of twisted person ends a race at the top of a hill, but I kind of like it. Today. I probably won’t like it on Sunday.
Scarier still is the forecast. Sunny. High of 18C. The horror. I fall to pieces when the mercury rises above 10C. Oh. Dear.
Title Reference: Diana Ross – Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. From the album Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand). 1970.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, running
I’m supposed to be tapering. Correction, I am tapering. It’s just not working. My chronic insomnia has worsened and I’ve been up until at least 3am and as late as 5am every night for the past three weeks. I’m freaking exhausted. I’ve aged 3 years. The final taper is supposed to make me feel rested. Strong. Ready to go. Instead I’m ready to go to bed for a sleep to rival Rip Van Winkle. My weary body aches all over. A cold virus invaded and won’t go away. It’s the mild kind of cold that doesn’t require sick leave but zaps all my energy and slows all my runs. I’m popping vitamin C and D, but the pills aren’t magically curing me. Add to that my constant infusion of desserts instead of food with actual nutrients and I’m a mess. I bought a new pair of jeans the Friday before Thanksgiving and they no longer fit. Correction, I can get them on but sport an awesome muffin-top and can’t sit down. How is it possible to outgrow a pair of pants in eight days!?! Self doubt took hold after that disastrous half marathon and hasn’t let go. The fatigue and ballooning body are further messing with my already-off-the-rails mental game. I need to find the marathon motivation movie to beat all marathon motivation movies. Someday I will master this taper business. Until then I have six days to pull myself together.
Title Reference: The Bangles – Manic Monday. From the album Different Light. 1986.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running, sport psychology, tapering
I see a head injury in my future. A head injury caused by a spinning mile marker. Those static easy to read mile markers, the ones that tell you how far you’ve come (and how far you have left to go), have been rejected by the Marine Corp Marathon in lieu of “spinteractive” mile markers. Not all of the markers, but nine of them. Spinning these 6-foot signs are actual people with arms that are likely to tire after a few hours and eyes that might be momentarily blinded by the sun. By the time I get to Mile 20 I’m not certain I trust those spinners to toss and catch with a high degree of accuracy. A rogue six foot arrow shaped projectile sign can do some serious damage to my delicate noggin. At some point in the race my ability to quickly avoid an incoming sign will be severely limited by my overwhelming physical fatigue and my non-functioning cerebral cortex. Good thing I did some duck and run training at the track. [Click to check out the spinning talent].
Title Reference: Dead or Alive – You Spin Me Round (Like a Record). From the album Youthquake. 1985.
Posted in My Amazing Races, Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, running
Autumn arrived five seconds ago and already buddled-up runners are making an appearance on my local running trails. These runners emerged from summer hibernation early this year. They think it is winter, but it is not. The leaves are still on the trees. Most of them haven’t even changed colour. We have not yet witnessed summer’s last stand. At least one more heat wave is laying in wait, sure to pounce at the worst possible moment. My luck of late predicts that The Worst Possible Moment will be race day. Marine Corps runners, prepare for hot one. Like seven inches from the midday sun.
These overdressed runners are wearing tuques. Billowing coats tied around their waist. Full length tights and long sleeve shirts. Clothes made of fabrics called sweat. Mittens. Leg warmers. Gore-Tex. They have the glossy-eyed look of someone experiencing heat stroke in 13C weather. Their heavy coats are too warm for the brisk air of fall. As befuddlement sets in they start abandoning layers without discretion. Strewn about the trail are the remnants of misguided clothing decisions.
This may be the Great White North, but this particular city never, and I mean never, gets cold enough to warrant wearing a running tuque. Their unnecessary tuque-wearing makes me think about snow. And winter. And Santa Claus. I do not want to think any thoughts about snow and winter and Santa Claus until I run across the NYC marathon finish line. We haven’t even made it to Thanksgiving. Fall harvest. Pumpkin carving. My Farmer’s Almanac predicts a painfully long and cold winter, so you’ll need to tear the last grasp of autumn out of my frozen hands. I’m wearing short-shorts and a tank top until frostbite dictates otherwise.
Title Reference: Earth, Wind, & Fire – September. From the album The Best of Earth, Wind, & Fire, Vol 1. 1978.
Posted in The Gear Junkie
Tagged exercise, fitness, gear, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
The New York Road Runners have been keeping a secret. Yesterday they broke the silence. They released bib numbers and wave start information. In a normal race this is no big deal. In NYC your very movements are governed by the colour of you bib – the main colour, the flood colour, and the letter. It is a complicated class system. Husband and I are both in the Wave Start 1, which means less waiting around but longer port-a-loo lines. I’m endlessly concerned about port-a-loos. I’ve had traumatic experiences. Experiences that wake me at night. So we are in the same wave start, but Husband has been assigned to the blue start (“professional men” — egads, I mean yes he has a profession but no, that profession is not running) and I’m in the green start (“local competitive men and women” – yikes, of the four words all that applies is the woman bit). Oh my. My road weary Marine Corps legs might get trampled by the local competitive men and women.
Different colours (I suppose the New Yorkers would say colors) means we cross different start lines, after walking a long and lonely road from our different Athlete Villages. Husband is assigned the Alberto Salazar Village and I’m in the Tegla Loroupe Village, so our hanging out area for the hours of lounging pre-race are worlds villages apart. I’m told we may cross borders freely, but I’m preparing for isolation. My green start also means I’m running on the lower bridge, better known as The Watch Out Or You Will Get Peed On Bridge. With Blue and Orange running above me, my bigger worry is reminiscent of the classic What’s the Capacity of This Elevator? Beyond bridge collapse or a golden shower, with a different starting line colour/color my main disappointment is that Husband and I will be unable to run the race together. And he just bought me a cute little camera for my half-birthday, which I’ve already named Flash, so we can take photos of ourselves on the run. I’m not sure strangers will appreciate me calling them Husband and asking them to pose in front of the high school marching band playing Rocky’s theme. Perhaps it is for the best. I suspect we would be the only “professional men” and “local competitive men and women” fiercely smiling with our eyes at the lens while running the same section twice to make sure we got the shot.
Title Reference: The Drifters – On Broadway. 1963.
Posted in My Amazing Races
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
I love campfire songs, campfire or no campfire. More often no campfire. Now I call them road trip songs. The people driving the ten hours with me to run Marine Corps just had a horrified moment of regret. I am not, how shall I say, going to win a reality TV show contest for singing. I am, however, self-aware enough to avoid the audition process and a humiliating clip in the outtake show during which my countrymen shake their collective heads wondering how can she not know she can’t sing? Shouldn’t someone tell her? Answer, they did, at a very early and emotionally scarring age.
I Love the Mountains. Mostly I just like singing boom dee ah dah over and over and over and over, until Husband loses his ever loving mind. I love the mountains so much that this song became trapped in my brain during last week’s speed training session. Boom dee ah dah on loop as I ran around a never-ending 400 metre loop. As I ran in circles it occurred to me that this would be a nice song to get me over those not so flat routes … “I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills”. I’m going to sing it on my way up up up to the Marine Corps finish line, which, I’m told, is at the top of will-sucking mountain.
I also love that you can change the I love the Mountains lyrics to say pretty much anything you want.
I love the big hills.
I love the pouring rain.
I love the sore feet.
I love the muscle strains.
I love the long runs.
Crossing the finish line.
Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah.
Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah.
Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah.
Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah.
p.s. Discovery Canada’s reinvention of this oldie is pretty cool. It kinda makes you wanna break into song. This commercial is the reason the song became trapped in my head during last week’s track workout.
Posted in Band on the Run
Tagged exercise, fitness, Marine Corps Marathon, music, running, running playlist, TV
… because you get out of it what you put into it. I didn’t say that, Oprah Winfrey did.
Oprah ran the 1994 Marine Corps Marathon in a respectable 4.29.20. Along with the shock and the accolades came disapproval. Marathon purists felt the Oprah represented all that was going wrong with the prestigious distance. With longer course limits and slower average finish times, some felt the race was becoming too accessible to average – and, gasp, below average – runners. Oprah with her fame and fortune and influence is lauded/blamed for inspiring a massive new wave of runners to the starting line.
Many, like her, run the marathon once and file it away under Been There, Did That, Got the T-shirt and the Medal.
Some runners don’t like the anyone can do it at any speed mentality, preferring to reserve the distance for competitive runners. They like the good old days of marathon mystery and reverence. The marathon is no longer reserved for 100 mile a week speedsters easily posting BQ finish times. If everyone in your office has checked off marathon on their bucket list does that diminish the race experience for everyone else? I propose not. In the 15 years since Oprah’s (in)famous run the average finish time has indeed slowed, but the faster times are faster. She certainly hasn’t lowered the elite bar. But things did change. Instead of just once every four years on the Olympic platform, non-runners and would-be runners started paying some attention to the big city marathon. Of course, they don’t know who won last year’s New York City Marathon, but they know that Katie Holmes ran it in an inadequate sports bra (and an hour slower than Oprah). That’s paying attention, in a red carpet way.
What some critics forget is that she’s also raised the bar for many runners. Although sub some-random-time-because-it-ends-in-a-zero is always a popular goal (except for me and my quite-contrary nature), Oprah has added a new dimension to the challenge facing runners nearing the 4.30 mark. Besting Oprah. If running Sub-Oprah (as my friend hilariously calls it) is your goal you are in well-known company. Sean Coombs (at the time, P. Diddy) very publically drew the Oprah Line in the sand. Turns out he is speedier than Oprah, but not by the landslide some expected (he crossed the line about 15 minutes faster, with the aid of a support crew).
I’m running the Oprah Marathon, I mean the Marine Corps Marathon, in a few weeks and I’m in the market for a celebrity time to trample. I can take my pick from a laundry list of US politicians, but I want to trounce someone with a bit more cross-border notoriety* (I know, Al Gore, but he’s too slow for me. Heck, he’s too slow for Oprah). I may never have their fame and power, but I can outrun them. Or maybe I should set my own bar higher and find an athlete to run down. My friend over at www.runeatread.ca is aiming to best running royalty instead of celebrity riffraff. Her goal is to beat Kathrine Switzer’s debut marathon time. Lance is too fast for me, but maybe if I dig deep I can find a running legend to test myself against. Even if they are 102 years old.
*Someone I could identify in a police line-up.
Posted in Celebrity Sneakers
Tagged celebrity, exercise, fitness, health, marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, New York City Marathon, running
In an effort to boost my cross-training from non-existent to, well, once a week more than non-existent I’m dusting off my Passport to Prana. You guessed it, 30 days until the Marine Corps Marathon and I’m cramming.
What’s P2P you say? Why it is an amazing opportunity for yoga lovers (or folks like me who want to love yoga, but have stalled at like after ten years of practice) to visit different studios around the city. If you live in Toronto, Vancouver, or Ottawa and you don’t have a P2P … you should. In my city a $30 passport buys you one yoga class at each of over 50 studios. Last year I went to 17 studios/17 classes on my passport, so each for the price of a Tim’s cup of coffee. I subjected my unwilling body to all sorts of new and impossible yoga sequences and poses and in the end concluded that I’m more suited to pilates. And I’m most definitely a cold-weather exerciser. I still can’t understand how people can stuff themselves in a sweltering room and then attempt to workout amidst the flinging sweat. Call it Bikram, call it Moksha, it’s still just sweating in a sauna. A rose by any other name …. Still, if you only go to three classes you’ve got yourself a sweet deal.
This year my P2P includes a session at the Spynga Studio. Spynga is a hybrid spinning and yoga class. Not at the same time (now that would be challenging and entertaining), but a spin (spyn?) class followed by a yoga (ynga?) class. I’m not fond of marrying names. The mashed together yogalates makes me gag, although last week I used my P2P to go to a wonderful yogalates class. I actually love the combined class, just enough of the dreaded yoga coupled with my preferred pilates. But yogalates sounds so pretentious that I can’t tell anyone about where I’ve gone or what I’ve done. To say yogalates I need to be carrying a disposable Starbucks cup full of complicated coffee product, obnoxiously texting on my blackberry, schlepping a miniature “dog” in a LV bag, all while balancing on 4-inch heels that cost more than the rent on a one-bedroom apartment. I instantly loathe, through no fault of their own, all celebrity couples with cutsie Brangelina/TomKat nicknames (shaking my fist at Bennifer for starting the nickname craze that won’t die). So Spynga was a hard sell, but this week I went to the Super Spynga Flow ® class:
The all encompassing extended journey that trains the mind, breathe, and body to enhance equilibrium and agility. Experience our signature class of cycling and yoga in tandem! Spend half the class on an intense and powerful bike ride to enliven the heart and challenge your every muscle. Energetically, move on to the mat for a vibrant sequence of postures that opens up the body, lengthens every limb, and relaxes the mind. This complimentary trip is pure harmony!
With two exclamation marks in a single paragraph and lots of exciting words Super Synga Flow ® is marketted as one helluva workout (intense! powerful! enliven! challenge! energetic! vibrant! open! lengthen!), but in practice it was … not so tough. Along with Husband, my pal from www.torontoworkout.com, and another friend with no prior spinning experience (or spynning for that matter), I took on a post-run Spynga challenge. Everytime I say Spynga I think of Jenga, then I take a block from the middle and I put it on top.
A 35 minute spin, when one is used to sessions ranging from 45-60 minutes, is surprisingly short – and kinda easy, even with tired legs. Or I’m just that good. Hardcore cyclists would not be tested by this class. Or I’m just that good. The new spinner amongst us kept up with no problem (although she does have that marathon running fitness), but maybe she’s just that good. My ears started to bleed when the instructor played Daft Punk’s Around the World - The Worst Song of All Time, but for some unknown reason spin instructors in this city can’t cycle without it. Whyyyyyyy ????? She did redeem herself by playing my exceptionally cheesy running theme song Don’t Stop Believin’, even though it is entirely unsuited to spinning.
And because I can’t have any gym experience that isn’t in some way humiliating (I once, I swear this is true, shot off an elliptical machine across the room – and no, I don’t know how I managed to do so), my shoe became trapped in the clips, refusing to release. My only option, as I’m stuck to my bike, was to remove my feet from the shoes, leaving them (the shoes, not my feet) dangling helplessly from the pedals. With my feet liberated I still couldn’t wrench the shoes free from the pads, so I had to enlist the aid of Husband to free them from their prison. This is why I’m remiss with cross-training. It hates me.
The 35 minute yoga class was more my speed – seriously, one can only do so many sun salutations before desperately seeking a moon. Truthfully though, it was more of an extended stretch than a yoga class. The focus was on postures useful for cyclists, which are very similar to postures runners like me desperately need … hip, hip flexor, and hamstring stuff. Yoga purists would probably be put off by the class, but it worked well for me and my ever-stiffening rear chain. That sounded naughty.
All in all, this particular double-header might work for the time-pressed or ADHD-athletes, but I suspect not quite enough of either spinning or yoga to really fulfill those seeking a challenge. It was quite enough for me during my mini-taper week.
Title Reference: Slow Ride – Foghat. From the album Fool for the City. 1975.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged cycling, exercise, fitness, health, Marine Corps Marathon, running, yoga
My Running Shorts: short stories about my life on the run.
