It always comes back to The Goal Pace question. "how fast is that?", "what is that, per mile?", or some variation thereof. This is usually the second question. It arrives hot on the heels of The Goal Time question. A little math can get a person from one to the other (and back again!), but math is hard, so the questions typically go hand-in-hand.
Weather check! Ooh! It's looking colder!
So if they are the same thing, why is it that the The Goal Time answer is so much easier to vocalize than The Goal Pace answer? The Goal Time answer prompts a few goosebumps, and maybe a light sheen of sweat. Not a big deal. The Goal Pace answer though, causes mild nausea and involuntary buttcheek clenchage.
Why? It's something you have been pondering for the past couple weeks, but there's still no clear answer. The only theory (to date) which has not been shot down is that the basic assumption is wrong and they are not, in fact, the same thing. It would be difficult to argue in a court of law, but you're starting to warm to that idea. It is less scary when The Goal Pace is expressed in delta-seconds-per-mile (ΔSPMs), as in "eight seconds per mile faster than before." Maybe that's a clue.
Whatever the answer, it means this is a good goal. A good goal behaves in this manner. A goal that is known to be achievable, or one that is known to not be achievable would be the opposite of a good goal. It would be a bad goal. Bad goals leave the skin dry and smooth, the stomach settled, and the buttcheeks in their normal resting state. Nobody wants that.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Five
The sniffing and throat clearing is getting to be a bit much. It is like the fiftieth time already this morning. Ugh... This had better not be the start of a cold. Probably it is just the pre-race sniffles. That's a thing, isn't it? But there has been something making the rounds at work.
Five minutes until the first meeting of the day. Water. That will help. Go get some water. Then sit down and read any email that showed up last night.
Oh nice. It's flu clinic week. You had forgotten that was going on. A flu shot? Really, now is not a good time. De-lete... hey wait... this email is different... it's a reply-to-ALL... oh man, someone's gonna be in trouble! "Before you go take the flumist vaccine... something something... shedding live virus... something something... 20% [of everyone who gets one] is going to be contagious... something something... self-quarantine to ensure the safety of the immunocompromised [and the mental health of those running a Marathon this weekend]".
You wish you hadn't read that. Should have known better. Any other week, and it wouldn't have been a big deal. Now everyone you see today is going to have Pig-Pen-esque clouds of flu virii swirling around them. Relax. Breathe (but not too deeply). Drink some water.
Sigh. Well, that killed three minutes. There's not actually enough time to do anything useful before the meeting. Wonder what the weather's going to be like on Sunday. Ha! "don't think about the weather again until Friday", my ass! Still looks nice. Good. No, great! That's great news! Speaking of news, it has been a couple days. You peek at the headlines to see what's going on in the world.
EBOLA ARRIVES IN DALLAS
You let out a big sigh, close the browser and pull your PC off the dock. Then you grab your water and take another swig. That's how it is going to be today, is it? All right, then. There's a quick pit stop in the break area to turn on the hot tap and put your hands under the water for as long as you can tolerate it. Then, it's off to confine yourself in a room with a small group of adults for the next hour.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Seven and Six
Seven:
"Good Morning Mommy!"
The yell came from upstairs - it was the smaller one's voice. The first thought - Why do they have to get up so early, and why do they insist on making so much noise when they do?
Then, a glance at the clock. 8:00 AM. Oh! Not so early after all. And wow... exactly one week until the gun goes off. Or will it be an airhorn? Followed by some kind of Minnesota anthem? "Let's go Crazy," perhaps?
One week. It still seems so distant. Not completely real just yet. But you've got that undercurrent of nervous tension going. For the last couple days, it's just meant being obsessed with making sure nothing is forgotten. The packing list keeps growing - Don't forget your SportShield! And your extra SportShield! Finding that last stick of Bodyglide in the convention center before Philly was lucky. The panic of realizing that this essential item was still in Austin, though... it's not an experience worth repeating. One of the voices in the back of your head (the one that sounds like your running buddy, Ashish) tells you to shut up about your chafing problems already.
And then, there's where to eat. Some general baselines have been established, but nothing is firm just yet. The plan includes something "tasty", together with a small amount of something "beerish" on Friday night. Yes - that's as specific as it is right now. Then a big breakfast on Saturday. Probably some noodle soup for lunch - that's Brentley's thing, but you are willing to give it a shot. And dinner on Saturday night... well, who knows. You know what dinner isn't. It isn't Ruby Tuesday. It certainly isn't Chipotle. But there's probably worse things to be worried about right now.
Six:
Really? It's 4:30 already? Why is it so easy to roll out of bed when it's going to be a group run, but so difficult when you have to go solo? All summer long it's been a struggle. Sliding out of bed onto the floor, stumbling out into the dark living room, just waiting to step on a wayward Lego or stub yet another toe on a couch leg, or ram a shin into the coffee table. Drink something, eat something, then go do that zombie-jog thing for the first thirty minutes. It only takes a second or so for all that to run through your brain, and then you've quickly changed the alarm to the (slightly) more reasonable weekday wakeup time. Come on.. it's the shortest Monday run all summer, and it's the last one. Get up... Go run...
...at lunch. This feels awesome. Stronger and lighter than anything in recent memory. That's a good thing (probably). It's not particularly fast, but it isn't supposed to be. Everything seems to be clicking. The fleeting obsession of the morning was the weather. Some unsubstantiated reports of a 75-degree high rolled in, but your sources say no way (José). 40's and 50's during the race, a high in the low 60's. Rain - not likely, but not out of the question, either. Don't think about the weather again until Friday. Pack a parka and a loincloth. It's all about options.
Your mind wanders to that odd sci-fi novel you read earlier in the summer - the one that was written all in second person. It was a little awkward at first, but it grew on you pretty quickly. And then your thoughts jump the tracks to that blog post you wrote last night. Like so many others, you never actually pushed the publish button. Too self-critical. Hmm.. change the voice, add some color, and dump today's round of random and useless thoughts in there? Sure. See how long before this second-person thing gets really super-duper annoying? Definitely.
"Good Morning Mommy!"
The yell came from upstairs - it was the smaller one's voice. The first thought - Why do they have to get up so early, and why do they insist on making so much noise when they do?
Then, a glance at the clock. 8:00 AM. Oh! Not so early after all. And wow... exactly one week until the gun goes off. Or will it be an airhorn? Followed by some kind of Minnesota anthem? "Let's go Crazy," perhaps?
One week. It still seems so distant. Not completely real just yet. But you've got that undercurrent of nervous tension going. For the last couple days, it's just meant being obsessed with making sure nothing is forgotten. The packing list keeps growing - Don't forget your SportShield! And your extra SportShield! Finding that last stick of Bodyglide in the convention center before Philly was lucky. The panic of realizing that this essential item was still in Austin, though... it's not an experience worth repeating. One of the voices in the back of your head (the one that sounds like your running buddy, Ashish) tells you to shut up about your chafing problems already.
And then, there's where to eat. Some general baselines have been established, but nothing is firm just yet. The plan includes something "tasty", together with a small amount of something "beerish" on Friday night. Yes - that's as specific as it is right now. Then a big breakfast on Saturday. Probably some noodle soup for lunch - that's Brentley's thing, but you are willing to give it a shot. And dinner on Saturday night... well, who knows. You know what dinner isn't. It isn't Ruby Tuesday. It certainly isn't Chipotle. But there's probably worse things to be worried about right now.
Six:
Really? It's 4:30 already? Why is it so easy to roll out of bed when it's going to be a group run, but so difficult when you have to go solo? All summer long it's been a struggle. Sliding out of bed onto the floor, stumbling out into the dark living room, just waiting to step on a wayward Lego or stub yet another toe on a couch leg, or ram a shin into the coffee table. Drink something, eat something, then go do that zombie-jog thing for the first thirty minutes. It only takes a second or so for all that to run through your brain, and then you've quickly changed the alarm to the (slightly) more reasonable weekday wakeup time. Come on.. it's the shortest Monday run all summer, and it's the last one. Get up... Go run...
...at lunch. This feels awesome. Stronger and lighter than anything in recent memory. That's a good thing (probably). It's not particularly fast, but it isn't supposed to be. Everything seems to be clicking. The fleeting obsession of the morning was the weather. Some unsubstantiated reports of a 75-degree high rolled in, but your sources say no way (José). 40's and 50's during the race, a high in the low 60's. Rain - not likely, but not out of the question, either. Don't think about the weather again until Friday. Pack a parka and a loincloth. It's all about options.
Your mind wanders to that odd sci-fi novel you read earlier in the summer - the one that was written all in second person. It was a little awkward at first, but it grew on you pretty quickly. And then your thoughts jump the tracks to that blog post you wrote last night. Like so many others, you never actually pushed the publish button. Too self-critical. Hmm.. change the voice, add some color, and dump today's round of random and useless thoughts in there? Sure. See how long before this second-person thing gets really super-duper annoying? Definitely.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Mile 1160: Bodyglide is for Badasses
Fall "officially" showed up this week, along with a cool, and more importantly dry breath of air. I won't delude myself into thinking that summer is completely over just yet, but this sure does feel nice.
With T-minus-10 days and counting until Marathon #9 (outwardly calm, inwardly... starting to freak out a little), it's a good time to avoid obsessing about the race by reflecting on the two most important lessons I learned in all those miles this summer:
1. There's a product out there called "SportShield".
2. It is AWESOME!! With a capital 'A'. And a capital 'WESOME'. And two exclamation points.
Thanks to Nathan for spreading the good word. And now, I am here to spread the word to you. It might be the only post with any useful information that I ever write.
"But.. but.." you might stammer, "the title of this post is about Body Glide! And badasses!"
That's right. I should be clear here - this is my experience, and your mileage may vary. I have nothing against Body Glide or the good folks at whatever company makes the stuff. I've been swearing by Body Glide for several years now. Why? I chafe. Really bad. Where? That's none of your business. But now that I am leaving it up to your imagination, you are getting all sorts of horrible ideas, even though the reality is very tame (this is my proof that there's no such thing as TMI).
Anyway, yeah... Body Glide has been a life saver. If I use Body Glide, my chafeable patches stay a nice rosy pink all summer long, and they may get slightly raw on longer runs. Not super bad.. just enough to make me wonder who is making all those awful squealing noises during my post-long run showers.
But if I forget Body Glide on just one run, it's like a belt sander loaded with 40-grit was somehow involved, and I'll have trouble walking for the rest of the day.
Body Glide truly has been good to me, but SportShield is a whole different level I never knew existed. I tried it out for the first time maybe six weeks ago? Eight? I don't remember. It's so good that it has completely erased the memory of when I started using it. Within a couple days, the skin in those chafe zones was healed. All the way. Like brand new. Not even pink. And so far, no amount of torture has managed to un-heal it.
So, the only natural conclusion that a person can draw from all this is that Body Glide really is for badasses.
SportShield on the other hand, is for wimps like me.
With T-minus-10 days and counting until Marathon #9 (outwardly calm, inwardly... starting to freak out a little), it's a good time to avoid obsessing about the race by reflecting on the two most important lessons I learned in all those miles this summer:
1. There's a product out there called "SportShield".
2. It is AWESOME!! With a capital 'A'. And a capital 'WESOME'. And two exclamation points.
Thanks to Nathan for spreading the good word. And now, I am here to spread the word to you. It might be the only post with any useful information that I ever write.
"But.. but.." you might stammer, "the title of this post is about Body Glide! And badasses!"
That's right. I should be clear here - this is my experience, and your mileage may vary. I have nothing against Body Glide or the good folks at whatever company makes the stuff. I've been swearing by Body Glide for several years now. Why? I chafe. Really bad. Where? That's none of your business. But now that I am leaving it up to your imagination, you are getting all sorts of horrible ideas, even though the reality is very tame (this is my proof that there's no such thing as TMI).
Anyway, yeah... Body Glide has been a life saver. If I use Body Glide, my chafeable patches stay a nice rosy pink all summer long, and they may get slightly raw on longer runs. Not super bad.. just enough to make me wonder who is making all those awful squealing noises during my post-long run showers.
But if I forget Body Glide on just one run, it's like a belt sander loaded with 40-grit was somehow involved, and I'll have trouble walking for the rest of the day.
Body Glide truly has been good to me, but SportShield is a whole different level I never knew existed. I tried it out for the first time maybe six weeks ago? Eight? I don't remember. It's so good that it has completely erased the memory of when I started using it. Within a couple days, the skin in those chafe zones was healed. All the way. Like brand new. Not even pink. And so far, no amount of torture has managed to un-heal it.
So, the only natural conclusion that a person can draw from all this is that Body Glide really is for badasses.
SportShield on the other hand, is for wimps like me.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Mile 429: Rock-Hoppin' Runner
Huh. It's been a while since I last posted. I'll catch us up a bit with the stuff that happened between then and now:
I ran.
Ok, now that's out of the way. The reason I finally decided to post something now, is because I had something mildly interesting to post about. Until roughly 7:30 this morning, running this week has been kinda dumpy. I won't get into all the dumpy details - I'll just talk a little about when it turned around.
I was around 16 miles into a very lonely long run in unfamiliar territory. For the second time this week, I'd planned a route that included a road closed to public access, so I was kind of winging it, just trying to get the miles in and not get too lost (like Thursday... but I'm not talking about that). I happened to be near a beach, and I ran out to the end of the parking lot where there was a trail leading off around a big sand dune.
Soon, I was running through the sand, and not liking that one bit.. but there was this big rock seawall next to me. It looked interesting (and stable), so I hopped up onto it and started running out towards the ocean on these big, 3-6 foot boulders with maybe 1 foot gaps between them. There were plenty of opportunities to take a colossal, season-ending digger. I am not sure what possessed me to make a little game out of it... I tried to run as fast as I could along the rocks (which according to Garmin was about a 10 minute mile - it was not easy going). By the time I got to the end I was out of breath and giggling a little bit. I stood there grinning like an idiot for a minute and taking in the nice ocean view, then decided to run back the way I'd come (grinning and giggling).
It doesn't sound like much, but it was probably one of the most exhilarating moments in my recent running history. Sure, it was also the stupidest thing I've done on a run in a long time, but it was completely worth it.
I ran.
Ok, now that's out of the way. The reason I finally decided to post something now, is because I had something mildly interesting to post about. Until roughly 7:30 this morning, running this week has been kinda dumpy. I won't get into all the dumpy details - I'll just talk a little about when it turned around.
I was around 16 miles into a very lonely long run in unfamiliar territory. For the second time this week, I'd planned a route that included a road closed to public access, so I was kind of winging it, just trying to get the miles in and not get too lost (like Thursday... but I'm not talking about that). I happened to be near a beach, and I ran out to the end of the parking lot where there was a trail leading off around a big sand dune.
Soon, I was running through the sand, and not liking that one bit.. but there was this big rock seawall next to me. It looked interesting (and stable), so I hopped up onto it and started running out towards the ocean on these big, 3-6 foot boulders with maybe 1 foot gaps between them. There were plenty of opportunities to take a colossal, season-ending digger. I am not sure what possessed me to make a little game out of it... I tried to run as fast as I could along the rocks (which according to Garmin was about a 10 minute mile - it was not easy going). By the time I got to the end I was out of breath and giggling a little bit. I stood there grinning like an idiot for a minute and taking in the nice ocean view, then decided to run back the way I'd come (grinning and giggling).
It doesn't sound like much, but it was probably one of the most exhilarating moments in my recent running history. Sure, it was also the stupidest thing I've done on a run in a long time, but it was completely worth it.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Mile 101: Learning About Shorts
Mile 101-ish, or thereabouts. It wasn't until I put them on that I realized I'd packed those shorts today. The ones that I've only worn once before, because they are half as long as all my other pairs. They've been sitting unused at the bottom of the shorts bucket for at least five years. How on Earth did they end up in my bag today?
I almost didn't leave the building. I almost decided I would just have to run in the evening. But it was such a nice day out. The unseasonably wonderful running weather is nearly gone, and I just had to go do it.
So I headed out of the building, self-conscious about the pale and unfamiliar areas at the tops of my legs. For a while it was all I could do to keep from tugging down on the legs (if you can call them that) of the shorts, trying to see if the fabric would suddenly cover more. But soon, I was just running and kind of forgot about my wardrobe.
Until the breeze hit me. I had a moment of pure clarity on Lake Austin Blvd. Now I get it. Now I understand why some people run in these things. I was better off not knowing. I foresee some tough decisions ahead of me this summer.
I almost didn't leave the building. I almost decided I would just have to run in the evening. But it was such a nice day out. The unseasonably wonderful running weather is nearly gone, and I just had to go do it.
So I headed out of the building, self-conscious about the pale and unfamiliar areas at the tops of my legs. For a while it was all I could do to keep from tugging down on the legs (if you can call them that) of the shorts, trying to see if the fabric would suddenly cover more. But soon, I was just running and kind of forgot about my wardrobe.
Until the breeze hit me. I had a moment of pure clarity on Lake Austin Blvd. Now I get it. Now I understand why some people run in these things. I was better off not knowing. I foresee some tough decisions ahead of me this summer.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Mile 59: Do what you gotta do
59 miles into my new training program, I found myself running shirtless past a cage filled with screeching cockatoos. I am pretty sure they were trying to tell me to put a damn shirt on.
Or maybe they were commenting on the rest of my attire, which consisted of cotton briefs, sleep shorts, and a pair of shoes that have been relegated to three main tasks since 2011; 1. lawn mowing 2. hiking, and 3. catching beer spilled by drunk-but-excitable concert-goers.
Though I enjoyed the experience, the next time we take a quick weekend vacation I will (probably) pack some running gear.
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