Is it possible to have a run that sucks, but is pretty good anyhow?
I tried to outwait the drizzle, but it had really set in for the long run, so I went out for 2 miles anyway. Misty drizzle is OK, I guess; better than a hard rain. As is usual for me, I made it over a couple blocks and up to 5th avenue where the construction is happening before being hit by a coughing fit. As I was bent over hacking up a lung, I hear somebody saying, "You gotta run! You gotta run!"
It was the same construction guy as from yesterday - he recognized me. He said he used to be in Recon and they'd be doing 6 minute miles for miles on end. He looked like he certainly could have been military...I don't know whether to believe him or not. I liked his friendliness, though.
Run got done - hill route today. I managed to run the whole of the first and third hills and about 2/3 of the second, which is why the run was so good. But it also sucked because of the drizzle and the fact that my stomach hurt and my calves and shins hurt. Quite unusual. Hopefully tomorrow's run will be better.
June 11, 2009
June 10, 2009
Catching up; falling down.
Well. What a strange last 10 days or so it's been, weather-wise. Storms, then sunshine, then storms, with nothing moderate in-between. Even my roofer is a little spooked by it.
So, yeah, called the roofer and had him come back. After Sunday and Monday's storms, I checked the roof and decided that while the low spot was better, it still wasn't good enough, particularly since it meant the big puddle sat squarely over a seam in the roofing. Now, I trust that Alex's team did seal the seam, but I don't KNOW that it's a perfect seal, especially since there were a few spots where the flashing cement wasn't showing (squeezed out between the overlapping sheets). So Alex spent some time today trying to even out the low spot and I'm satisfied that the extra layer will, if nothing else, prevent water from leaking down through the roof, even if drainage will never be spot-on perfect. (It isn't perfect on any of these roofs.)
After that, I went for a short run. I'd meant to go out a lot earlier and do maybe 5 miles, but between the roofers and how sore I was from yesterday's workout, I just did my usual 2 miles. My reasoning is that it is better to get out EVERY DAY and do a workout of some kind, even if it's short, and to build up that habit while I can, before marathon training starts. Hope I'm right.
Now, yesterday's workout was 30m stationary bike on the "Alpine Pass" program, which varies in resistance a little too much for me. I was constantly dialing up resistance during the valleys and dialing it down at the hardest peaks. With that done, I stretched, foam-rolled, then lifted weights for an hour. I'm getting stronger already, I can tell. But I might have overdone it, as I was pretty sore this morning, especially in the calves.
So, of course, that's another reason to go exercise - to work out post-workout soreness, right? And then something happened that hasn't happened to me in a couple years - I tripped and fell. I don't know what I tripped OVER. I was on perfectly flat, level sidewalk; pretty good sidewalk, actually, with no cracks or tilts. WTF? It was one of those slo-mo deals where the moment you trip, it registers, and you can see impact coming. I hit palms-down, though I was already trying to make it a roll, and so I scuffed up my hands, right forearm, and right knee and calf. Not bad. My luck didn't get any better after that. Not 30 seconds later, as I was up and running again, I coughed up a big ol' glob and while spitting it out, didn't aim well enough or something and got it all over my right leg. Still, I finished the run, though not very well.
I hope tomorrow brings some damn sunshine for a change.
So, yeah, called the roofer and had him come back. After Sunday and Monday's storms, I checked the roof and decided that while the low spot was better, it still wasn't good enough, particularly since it meant the big puddle sat squarely over a seam in the roofing. Now, I trust that Alex's team did seal the seam, but I don't KNOW that it's a perfect seal, especially since there were a few spots where the flashing cement wasn't showing (squeezed out between the overlapping sheets). So Alex spent some time today trying to even out the low spot and I'm satisfied that the extra layer will, if nothing else, prevent water from leaking down through the roof, even if drainage will never be spot-on perfect. (It isn't perfect on any of these roofs.)
After that, I went for a short run. I'd meant to go out a lot earlier and do maybe 5 miles, but between the roofers and how sore I was from yesterday's workout, I just did my usual 2 miles. My reasoning is that it is better to get out EVERY DAY and do a workout of some kind, even if it's short, and to build up that habit while I can, before marathon training starts. Hope I'm right.
Now, yesterday's workout was 30m stationary bike on the "Alpine Pass" program, which varies in resistance a little too much for me. I was constantly dialing up resistance during the valleys and dialing it down at the hardest peaks. With that done, I stretched, foam-rolled, then lifted weights for an hour. I'm getting stronger already, I can tell. But I might have overdone it, as I was pretty sore this morning, especially in the calves.
So, of course, that's another reason to go exercise - to work out post-workout soreness, right? And then something happened that hasn't happened to me in a couple years - I tripped and fell. I don't know what I tripped OVER. I was on perfectly flat, level sidewalk; pretty good sidewalk, actually, with no cracks or tilts. WTF? It was one of those slo-mo deals where the moment you trip, it registers, and you can see impact coming. I hit palms-down, though I was already trying to make it a roll, and so I scuffed up my hands, right forearm, and right knee and calf. Not bad. My luck didn't get any better after that. Not 30 seconds later, as I was up and running again, I coughed up a big ol' glob and while spitting it out, didn't aim well enough or something and got it all over my right leg. Still, I finished the run, though not very well.
I hope tomorrow brings some damn sunshine for a change.
June 8, 2009
NYRR Mini 10K 2009
Strong. Athletic. Determined. Tough. Waterproof. Like Hefty trash bags, these women are purpose-driven creations of their training, their very existence shaped by the grindstone of practice, honed by focus and concentration, and when put to the test, are strong enough to stretch, not break. Unlike Hefty trash bags, though, these women need can do this over and over; and are probably annoyed by this metaphor and my sophomoric writing. So let's move on to pictures.
CLICK HERE FOR PICTURES
CLICK HERE FOR PICTURES
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| From Mini 10K 2009 |
June 7, 2009
D-Day
So it's funny how coincidences can just come together. I've been reading an Uncle John's book, Salute to the Armed Forces, and yesterday morning came across a section on something I didn't know existed: gliders in WWII. They were used to deliver troops and supplies into war zones and were throw-away craft. Not fifteen minutes later, I'm logged into a news-aggregator website and click on the comments for the requisite D-Day link and the very first comment was from a guy describing how his grandfather flew gliders in under fire! Then, later that night, a friend hands me a copy of Letters From Iwo Jima, which I'm ripping now for my iPod. I don't know that that has any gliders in it, tho.
Running this week has been a little lumpy, but it got done. Saturday was 5 miles, a little slow due to heat - and this while the roofers were getting their job done.
Today, I got early and met M to go to the Mini 10K. I took pictures all morning and will get some links up in here ASAP.
But right now, the Tonys are on. I already know my former teacher Brian MacDevitt won for best lighting design. Yay, Brian! Unfortunately, that means a man I twice assisted, Howell Binkley, has to be satisfied with another nom on his enviable record.
And holy shit, is that Dolly Parton on my Tonys? And Liza-fuckng-Minelli herself? Awesome. But it still doesn't lessen my burn over how fuckng commercialized the televised awards show is now. They're cutting so much to feature more and more performer-focused content. American Theatre Wing needs to get control over this again, move it back to PBS and give it back its dignity.
Oh, I did go see my friend Matt Smedburg in Verdi's A Masked Ball two nights ago. It was a nice little opera at a poor Brooklyn playhouse. Matt is off to Vanderbilt in a few weeks for studies in math and I wish him the best.
Running this week has been a little lumpy, but it got done. Saturday was 5 miles, a little slow due to heat - and this while the roofers were getting their job done.
Today, I got early and met M to go to the Mini 10K. I took pictures all morning and will get some links up in here ASAP.
But right now, the Tonys are on. I already know my former teacher Brian MacDevitt won for best lighting design. Yay, Brian! Unfortunately, that means a man I twice assisted, Howell Binkley, has to be satisfied with another nom on his enviable record.
And holy shit, is that Dolly Parton on my Tonys? And Liza-fuckng-Minelli herself? Awesome. But it still doesn't lessen my burn over how fuckng commercialized the televised awards show is now. They're cutting so much to feature more and more performer-focused content. American Theatre Wing needs to get control over this again, move it back to PBS and give it back its dignity.
Oh, I did go see my friend Matt Smedburg in Verdi's A Masked Ball two nights ago. It was a nice little opera at a poor Brooklyn playhouse. Matt is off to Vanderbilt in a few weeks for studies in math and I wish him the best.
June 2, 2009
500
"What are you going to write about?"
"I'm not sure. I don't know that I have anything more to say. Maybe I should just thank everyone for reading, it's been fun, and shut it down like I've been thinking about."
"But what have you learned?"
"..." "I don't know that I've learned anything."
"Surely something has changed in all this time."
"Perhaps."
"...and since your blog is still here, what does that mean?"
Act I: If You're Not Growing, You're Dying
I'm not going to compare this to a journey. It is too trite, too cliché. Let us think of it as a discussion at intermission, where we both know what has transpired, but we want to get a better grasp on what it means so far, before going back in to see the rest of the show.
Is it possible that in 499 posts, I have used up all that I have to say about life, running, and my health? I have been thinking about this post for a week; knowing that this is a milestone a lot of blogs don't achieve - fading away a few dozen posts in or being angrily ripped out of the fertile soil of the Internet, leaving only disconnected roots behind, broken links elsewhere all pointing to a space that was once a vibrant and energetic thing and is now a drying hole in the web. I had things to say, but now I don't know what.
Is it possible I have been running for five years? My blog feels older than that, my running doesn't. Hell, most days, I feel like I'm taking my very first steps, constantly relearning what my body can do and how far my mind can push it. It is always a surprise, usually a good one.
If something isn't growing, it's dying. By this, I mean that true stasis is the stuff of science fiction. If nothing else, a lack of growth indicates stagnation. And that is just very slow death. So let it be with blogs, with running, with our health. Growing older doesn't necessarily mean declining - it can mean growth, an expansion of capabilities, an enhancement of routines. In that sense, these last five years have seen a remarkeable growth in my abilities as a runner. Oh, perhaps not in speed or raw ability, but I have grown smarter; I finish races feeling human still, have no problems with hydration or fueling, and suffer injury a lot less. I've learned longevity. The lessons I've learned that have brought me here have been hard-earned and could hardly have taken less time than they did.
Act II: The Raw Soul
I've accomplished a lot in my 37 years, very little of which matters. I became an Eagle Scout at 13, graduated 3rd in my class at 17. I was an leader in college, earned two education degrees and a masters, then went on to earn my MFA from a prestigious arts school. I've earned awards for my design work and have been involved in some memorable and high-profile projects. I became a homeowner and a landlord. I've visited national monuments and been in every state. I even slept at the Arctic Circle. But all of that is superficial, for deep down inside there is the raw soul. There is a part of us that is shaped by our experiences, but is not defined by them. The very core of our being is almost immutable - and unseeable. From day to day, we know not who we are. We act our characters for the different audiences around us and are satisfied that that is who we are. But it's not true.
Running has brought me to the extreme white edge, where all that is superficial is - for a moment - stripped away and my raw soul is laid bare. For a brief moment in time, I saw myself as I truly am. I believe it happens to anyone whose endurance is pushed beyond reasonable limits; and then a little further still. It may not be pretty - our raw souls are often more noble than we thought, but have ugly edges, too. Certain events will open up your shields, strip your defenses, and make you shed all the bullshit you clothe yourself with. My first marathon certainly did that to me, as did the half-marathon where I set my PR. Why do people do their first endurance event? Many reasons. But ask any returning endurance athlete why they're doing it and the answers are likely different than when they did their first. A lot of those answers conceal the simple fact that they want to expose their soul again, strip away the trappings of civilization - and see if they're still human. It's addictive. It's the non-bannable drug of the extremist.
I have sometimes tried to capture that moment in these 500 posts, but you can never adequately describe that moment of being stripped of all you think you are. The experience of encountering your raw soul is akin to pain; you may use words to describe it, but you can never do it justice. You can remember moments of having been in pain, but can't recall the actual sensation - until it returns.
Act III: An Economy of Entropy
Time will win out in the end. But for these five years, I've managed to reverse some of the effects of working too hard and not getting enough sleep through college, grad school, and beyond. The rain and sunshine and cold and heat is taking its toll on my shell, in exchange for hosting my efforts to keep my heart and lungs young.
What has helped me stem the flow of time is a different outlook on life than I had when all this began. Exercise is far more important to me than it was back then; eating right is more important. I'm trying to prevent the inevitable, I suppose, just like every runner out there. (I'm certainly not running for the sheer joy of it - I've never learned that trick.) Many people run for their health, and that's of supreme importance to me. When I began this blog, I had one chronic condition; now I have four. Running helps all of them, believe it or not. Bone density can be helped partly by weight-bearin exercise; the gout seems to stay away if I abstain from heavy drinking and run regularly; my lungs do as well as they can, given the constant fight against infection; and now diabetes has come along and running is an easy way to get blood sugars down for a while. And despite all that - and several rounds of IV antibiotics - I have to ask, "has my health really gotten any worse?" A little, but not nearly as much as if I hadn't started running.
What hasn't changed? What things has Time been unable to degrade around me? Well, my hair is still long, still untouched by gray, and my eyesight is as its been for seven or eight years. Though it has gone up and down temporarily, my weight is the same as it was when I left grad school: 122. I am still single, still looking. I'm still here, and I guess I'm not going anywhere for awhile.
"I'm not sure any of that means anything yet. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention along the way."
"Well, it certainly sounds pithy enough."
"Hey, that's just how I-- naw, I'm not using that ol' line. Perhaps it's time to return to the main event, see what lies ahead."
"Once more, dear friends, unto the breech?"
"Always."
"I'm not sure. I don't know that I have anything more to say. Maybe I should just thank everyone for reading, it's been fun, and shut it down like I've been thinking about."
"But what have you learned?"
"..." "I don't know that I've learned anything."
"Surely something has changed in all this time."
"Perhaps."
"...and since your blog is still here, what does that mean?"
Act I: If You're Not Growing, You're Dying
I'm not going to compare this to a journey. It is too trite, too cliché. Let us think of it as a discussion at intermission, where we both know what has transpired, but we want to get a better grasp on what it means so far, before going back in to see the rest of the show.
Is it possible that in 499 posts, I have used up all that I have to say about life, running, and my health? I have been thinking about this post for a week; knowing that this is a milestone a lot of blogs don't achieve - fading away a few dozen posts in or being angrily ripped out of the fertile soil of the Internet, leaving only disconnected roots behind, broken links elsewhere all pointing to a space that was once a vibrant and energetic thing and is now a drying hole in the web. I had things to say, but now I don't know what.
Is it possible I have been running for five years? My blog feels older than that, my running doesn't. Hell, most days, I feel like I'm taking my very first steps, constantly relearning what my body can do and how far my mind can push it. It is always a surprise, usually a good one.
If something isn't growing, it's dying. By this, I mean that true stasis is the stuff of science fiction. If nothing else, a lack of growth indicates stagnation. And that is just very slow death. So let it be with blogs, with running, with our health. Growing older doesn't necessarily mean declining - it can mean growth, an expansion of capabilities, an enhancement of routines. In that sense, these last five years have seen a remarkeable growth in my abilities as a runner. Oh, perhaps not in speed or raw ability, but I have grown smarter; I finish races feeling human still, have no problems with hydration or fueling, and suffer injury a lot less. I've learned longevity. The lessons I've learned that have brought me here have been hard-earned and could hardly have taken less time than they did.
Act II: The Raw Soul
I've accomplished a lot in my 37 years, very little of which matters. I became an Eagle Scout at 13, graduated 3rd in my class at 17. I was an leader in college, earned two education degrees and a masters, then went on to earn my MFA from a prestigious arts school. I've earned awards for my design work and have been involved in some memorable and high-profile projects. I became a homeowner and a landlord. I've visited national monuments and been in every state. I even slept at the Arctic Circle. But all of that is superficial, for deep down inside there is the raw soul. There is a part of us that is shaped by our experiences, but is not defined by them. The very core of our being is almost immutable - and unseeable. From day to day, we know not who we are. We act our characters for the different audiences around us and are satisfied that that is who we are. But it's not true.
Running has brought me to the extreme white edge, where all that is superficial is - for a moment - stripped away and my raw soul is laid bare. For a brief moment in time, I saw myself as I truly am. I believe it happens to anyone whose endurance is pushed beyond reasonable limits; and then a little further still. It may not be pretty - our raw souls are often more noble than we thought, but have ugly edges, too. Certain events will open up your shields, strip your defenses, and make you shed all the bullshit you clothe yourself with. My first marathon certainly did that to me, as did the half-marathon where I set my PR. Why do people do their first endurance event? Many reasons. But ask any returning endurance athlete why they're doing it and the answers are likely different than when they did their first. A lot of those answers conceal the simple fact that they want to expose their soul again, strip away the trappings of civilization - and see if they're still human. It's addictive. It's the non-bannable drug of the extremist.
I have sometimes tried to capture that moment in these 500 posts, but you can never adequately describe that moment of being stripped of all you think you are. The experience of encountering your raw soul is akin to pain; you may use words to describe it, but you can never do it justice. You can remember moments of having been in pain, but can't recall the actual sensation - until it returns.
Act III: An Economy of Entropy
Time will win out in the end. But for these five years, I've managed to reverse some of the effects of working too hard and not getting enough sleep through college, grad school, and beyond. The rain and sunshine and cold and heat is taking its toll on my shell, in exchange for hosting my efforts to keep my heart and lungs young.
What has helped me stem the flow of time is a different outlook on life than I had when all this began. Exercise is far more important to me than it was back then; eating right is more important. I'm trying to prevent the inevitable, I suppose, just like every runner out there. (I'm certainly not running for the sheer joy of it - I've never learned that trick.) Many people run for their health, and that's of supreme importance to me. When I began this blog, I had one chronic condition; now I have four. Running helps all of them, believe it or not. Bone density can be helped partly by weight-bearin exercise; the gout seems to stay away if I abstain from heavy drinking and run regularly; my lungs do as well as they can, given the constant fight against infection; and now diabetes has come along and running is an easy way to get blood sugars down for a while. And despite all that - and several rounds of IV antibiotics - I have to ask, "has my health really gotten any worse?" A little, but not nearly as much as if I hadn't started running.
What hasn't changed? What things has Time been unable to degrade around me? Well, my hair is still long, still untouched by gray, and my eyesight is as its been for seven or eight years. Though it has gone up and down temporarily, my weight is the same as it was when I left grad school: 122. I am still single, still looking. I'm still here, and I guess I'm not going anywhere for awhile.
"I'm not sure any of that means anything yet. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention along the way."
"Well, it certainly sounds pithy enough."
"Hey, that's just how I-- naw, I'm not using that ol' line. Perhaps it's time to return to the main event, see what lies ahead."
"Once more, dear friends, unto the breech?"
"Always."
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