fuel

"I had found something that was going to help me for a long time," Charles Bukowski on alcohol; me on energy goo.

felt like a fleet-footed, hobbit-chasing beast out there today, never once flagged, an unusual occurrence. I had a similar bearing-down-on-prey sensation yesterday, but my speed usually improves after a few days off, and so considered that time a false reading. But since two runs ago, I've shaved about a half a minute off my per-mile average. The common denominator: GU energy gel. Lately, I've been experimenting with on-the-fly fueling -- gels, gummies, drinks, etc. I think I may have found the right grade. click here for a few Runner's World reviews of other on-the-road energy eats, and links to more running nutrition info.

click here for this morning's route.
8.139 miles: 68 mins., 05 secs.
@ 8 min. 15 sec. miles
weather: 27F, mostly cloudy, windy.
surface: asphalt, dirt track
music: run mix 1 (12.19.08)
pre-run eats: apple, banana, one packet of vanilla-bean flavored energy goo, cup of coffee, two Advil.

river street-science musuem loop

click here for this morning's route.
7.679 miles: 65 mins., 28 secs.
@ 8 min. 30 sec. miles
weather: 33F, mostly cloudy, strong, gusty winds.
surface: asphalt, dirt track
music: run mix 1 (12.19.08)
pre-run eats: apple, one packet of vanilla bean energy goo, three Advil.

Please consider sponsoring my boston marathon effort. click here for more info. thanks!

i mickey rourke'd myself

Somewhere between morning push-ups, hauling boxes of books and cat litter, walking in laceless shoes, and sitting in a squat, rigid movie-theater seat last night (and, OK, perhaps being almost 40), I strained a muscle in my back. So after much agonizing, I’ve opted to put off today’s long run. I'll run sick, but they say never to run injured. Still, the pull is fierce and I debated for two hours this morning, throwing Advil after Advil at the pain. And even without a budge in the strain, I still unfolded my running shorts (it's almost 60 freakin' degrees out). When risking greater injury is hardly enough of an obstacle is when running feels like an addiction, one that actually requires mental fortitude to resist (I know I won't go to the window for a few hours lest I see a runner speeding down my street, flinging salt at my wounds). But after watching a stunning Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler yesterday, and his super-heroic but broken-down body, I was given pause to repair. Think I’ll just work a new run mix today. Thanks to where i ran today regular, Laura, I have more material to work with. She posted some of her go-to run tunes on my playlist site. Check 'em out here.

day-after run

Back in Cambridge, and four holiday-pounds heavier; ran this route this morning: 10.76 miles; 1 hr. 33 mins. 25 secs. @ 8 min. 40 sec. miles.

No fruit in the house, so I went with the cupboard-and-fridge sampler: a piece of holiday turkey, a couple spoonfuls of yogurt, half a Chex turtle bar, a three-inch strip of beef jerky. Cup of coffee, two Advil, and 5 oz. of water.

weather: 28 F, sunny.
surface: asphalt, treacherously ice-glazed asphalt, and annoyingly snow-crusted asphalt.
music: run mix 1 (12.19.08)

Rest tomorrow, 17-plus miler on Sunday (if I can pick up some energy goo before then).

six days since my last confession

(photo by trent campbell)

finally got out there, after six days -- snows and holiday madness blocking the paths since last friday. Amazing how the mood is affected without the run: stress rises, sleep suffers, mind gets cluttered. When I lived in Vermont and ran back-country roads before the sun came up, I sometimes described the experience as "running through church." For running unfolds as much in the mind as underfoot, and the cleansing sensation can be acute. And on this particular morning, after an absence of almost a week, the characterization seems especially apt. I'm in West Springfield, Mass., at the moment, and ran this route.

8.61 miles.
1 hr 15 mins., 52 secs=8.77 min. miles, or 8 minute 43 seconds
x 26.2 miles =229.805 mins.=3.83 hrs. marathon (for anti-jinx and sanity purposes, I've vowed to stop race-extrapolating, at least out loud).

While I was out there, a couple other lines went through my mind. My stepdaughter Shea gave me a marathon scrapbook for Christmas, and included a handful of running quotes. Here are two I especially like: "Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow." Henry David Thoreau. And, "If one could run without getting tired, I don't think we would often want to do anything else." C.S. Lewis.

today's pre-run eats: 2 cups of coffee, 4 oz of water, one banana, two clementines, two Advils, packet of honey energy gummies (10 pieces).
No music.
42 F. Gusty winds, mix of sun and clouds. All asphalt.

Please consider sponsoring my boston marathon effort. click here for more info. thanks!

what i heard today

thanks to my pal Nat, I'm now able to post an audio sampler of my run mixes. You can check out the first one here (a "my playlists" link also appears in the sidebar under "running stuff"). As any runner, or worker-outer, knows, music can stale quickly (especially the ear candy you wouldn't be caught dead copping to), so any and all tune suggestions are most welcome.

why?

(click to enlarge)
Last weekend at a party, my co-worker Vicky asked, “So, why are you running the marathon? Something about wanting to beat your dad?” I’d joked in recent weeks that I had beefs to work out with my former marathon-running, journalist father. Sure, who doesn’t have issues with their parents? Perhaps beating my dad’s first marathon time would bring a measure of satisfaction. But that's not it, and I couldn’t come up with a good answer. Since that night, I keep coming back to Vicky's question.

Yes, I’m running for the Michael Carter Lisnow Respite Center, and am excited and grateful for the opportunity. And since moving to Boston from Vermont, I’m running with a larger crowd, some fast as hell and obviously in training. The sense of community is heightened. I now live closer to more starting lines, included the grand daddy in Hopkinton. In fact, after six years of running, I ran my first race last fall, a half-marathon. I trained for months to raise my distance, from six to thirteen miles. As a former victim of shin splints and knee pain, I dropped 20 pounds to take the pressure off my legs (I’m told that for each pound lost, four pounds of pressure is removed from the knees). Prepping for a race keeps a runner motivated, in any weather. Makes it harder to keep hitting the snoozebar.

Am I trying to prove something to myself? Ten years ago, I could barely mount a flight of stairs without sucking wind and stopping for a cigarette. I was a hopeless drunk, who often woke up with questions like: where am I? did I really? and where the hell did I park? Will running a marathon demonstrate that somehow sobriety has fully taken hold, that I'm not the asshole I once was, that, in fact, I've come full circle, back to the athlete I was before picking up the bottle. In this season of holiday parties, might I be able to have just one drink someday? But best not to linger too long in this territory.

Or does this really have to do with getting old? I’m 39, in the last gasp of my thirties. I still don't quite feel like an adult. While I may be a half-shy, half-punk-ass fourteen-year-old inside, my ears are growing hair, a second chin dropping, my eyesight and memory getting hazier. I’m one of the older staff members at BU Today/Bostonia. When I was in my twenties, I prided myself on being born in 1969 rather than 1970. Now both decades seem ancient, black-and-white, and badly lit. I dwell among the set I once railed against.

No, I think this marathon has more to do with natural movement and forward motion. Like running itself. I no longer have drugs, or booze, or the best parts of youth. There’s no more grand vision, or plans of where-I-want-to-be-in-five-years, no more scouring the New Yorker table of contents with jealously held breath lest I recognize a grad school classmate's name. But my will remains, my embrace of a perpetual forward-lean, eyes on that next hill, that next bend, that one-more-mile. Running has become synonymous with "further." As usual, Bob Dylan has a lyric to fit this moment in time: “I don’t know where I go anymore, I just go.” I may no longer be the future. But with a pair of Brooks' Beasts strapped to my feet, I can always be the present. That's what running has taught me. To be present, to go further, to evolve. I guess that’s why I’m running the marathon, Vicky. It's why I run every morning.

the gorgeous torture of marathon math

I never took to math, but the more I run, the more beauty I find in numbers -- miles per hour, tenths and hundredths of a second, pulse rates, calories burned, the numerical extrapolation of 10K to 13.1 miles to 26.2 miles. Here are this morning's figures:

Western Ave-Science Museum loop: 8.078 miles
1.hr 10 mins, 56 secs= 8.73 min. miles (calories burned: 977.5)
Multiply by 26.2=228.844=3.814 hrs (assuming I don't flag one bit during the next 17-plus miles!).

While I'm at it, here are the prime numbers that swirl around my head as I prepare for marathon number one.

Official time goal: finish
Unofficial goal: finish without crying, or crapping myself
Secret, unofficial goal: beat this guy (4 hrs and 8 mins; 9.48 min miles)
Super-secret unofficial goal: break four hours (9.16 min miles)
Super top-secret unofficial goal: under 3 hrs 51 mins and 39 secs., my dad's first marathon time (age 41, Marine Corps Marathon; 8.83 min miles). No father son issues there.



Pre-run eats: banana, apple, cup of yogurt, two Advil.

The Cause, Boston 4.20.09

For parents struggling with the long-term challenges of a disabled child, life can feel like a marathon, with no finish line in sight, and certainly none of the glory. The care and worry is constant, and the medical appointments and procedures can become overwhelming.

This year, I'm running the Boston Marathon on behalf of the Michael Carter Lisnow Respite Center, and am seeking to raise at least $3,000. The center provides relief for the caregivers of developmentally disabled kids and adults by offering day, evening, overnight and weekend care, as well as work training and educational outreach.

The center's namesake, Michael Carter Lisnow, was born 16 weeks premature and weighed but a pound. Suffering cerebral palsy and blindness, Michael was given a 10 percent chance for survival, and faced multiple surgeries and relentless care. Yet lived for 10 years. His vibrant personality inspired the creation of the center while he was still alive. Today, his mother, Sharon, is co-director and has run the marathon herself six times. The center, located in Hopkinton, Mass., near the marathon's starting line, serves more than 200 families.

So if you want to spend your money wisely this holiday season, and get a nice bit of feel-good in return, please consider making a donation. You can contribute online by clicking on the First Giving widget, on the upper right. It's simple and secure. Any amount is greatly appreciated, and 100% goes to MCLRC. A $75 donation, for example, will cover overnight respite care for one child. You can also donate directly at MCLCR site. Please make sure to include my name along with your contribution.

Many thanks in advance.

C.

Oh, and I'll be blogging on all things marathon-training here, as I prepare for the big race. So be sure to stop by again, and see how it's going.