A mid-week 10K

What a great run; what a GREAT fuckin' RUN! Ahh...at last.

As noted in my previous post, I am sick again - a cold or something. Enough that I can break the seal on those precious little orange capsules called Dayquil. Combine that with the octane boost of a small coffee and I was in hyperspeed and feelin' good right around 6 pm. I decided on the way home I'd go out for a run, probably the 6.7 mile loop up to Prospect Park.

Then I realized my running clothes weren't dry; so I popped them into the dryer and while waiting for them to get a lot less damp, I realized I'd meant to go to my friend's graduation party (she got her MA from NYU). And something clicked: I'd RUN to the bar! The place, called Butter, is on Lafayette just down from the Public Theatre. gmaps pedometer puts it at 6.2 miles from my house. Groovy. As I waited for my clothes, I listened once more to the beginning of Steve Runner's podcast about the 110th Boston Marathon - he starts it with a reading of Phedippedes' heroic race from Marathon to Athens. Quite inspiring.

I slipped into my running clothes and got out of the house, intent on a one-way trip through the neighborhoods and portals of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Beast had previously written about running into Manhattan and I was curious about it. This run was to be my first run over a major bridge, my first from Brooklyn to Manhattan, my first 6-miler since the last half-marathon.

I didn't warm up. I didn't take my music. I didn't take fluids, fuel, or my cell phone. I wore a long-sleeved tech T, shorts, and my 992s. I acknowledged the cooler weather and took my stretchy gloves, too. I stuffed my little running wallet in my pocket with nothing but my ID, a credit card, $10 in cash, and one house key, and took off.

And I ran SO STRONG! This was a great run from the beginning, which astounds me. I ran strong, steady, and at a solid 10K pace, perhaps even faster than I'd been planning, but nevertheless at a sustainable pace. The route was mostly flat, of course, except for the Manhattan Bridge, which I was dreading. But even as I began to climb it, I realized I didn't have to slack my pace one bit; my body responded and I climbed right up that bridge (which while not steep is certainly long). I wound up the run as stronger or stronger than the beginning. My last mile was faster than my first, even given dodging pedestrians.

What else qualifies this as a great run? Dry heaves & bleeding! I mean, it's not a great run unless there's dry heaves, right? Right? And the bleeding, that's just bonus. This time, it was the top of my foot, where my shoe is rubbing it raw. (I figured out the problem on the way home on the subway: the tongue had gotten folded under, so the top surface of the tongue - un-soft textiles - was rubbing directly over the top of my arch.)

I walked about fifteen minutes as a cooldown after (unknowingly) passing Butter - the walking around was me trying to FIND the place! Finally, feeling damn damn good, I found the place and entered. Had the running not given me such a tremendous boost of well-being and confidence, I would have turned around and gone home. For here I was, in my ratty 5K Turkey Trot tech-t, ugly shorts, bean-pole legs, and two days of stubble on my face walking into a VERY high-class operation. The kind where a good meal can set you back an entire day's pay. Well, I got seated with my friend's party and got myself a beer. (Why is it that the most upscale of places always have the shittiest beer menu? Coors Light??? Fuck THAT. The best they had was Amstel Light.)

After a beer, a salad, and a coffee, it was time to go home. I had no plans to run back, so just hopped on the subway. Good thing, too - when I got out in Brooklyn, it was raining. One last five-block run home.

All this has me thinking: maybe the ideal situation come November 5th (Marathon Day) would be to be finishing up two or three weeks of prophylactic antibiotics, yet also be hit with a cold, so I can break out the Dayquil, caffeine, and albuterol...I'd probably be in the Bronx somewhere before that combination started to wear off.

So, speaking of marathons, I want to point out that an acquaintance of mine in London, Rob Lake, who also has cystic fibrosis, recently ran the London Marathon in a time of 4 hours and 7 minutes! He ran to raise money for the CF Trust.

Also...moisture-wicking underwear: awesome.