Week Twelve: Philly Half (Pint)

I was in corral 16, slowly moving up with my group to the start line, a little nervous, but excited for my first race. The man next to me reassured me that this was going to be a walk in the park, an odd choice of words, but calming none the less. Discarded clothes lined the sides of the road as people shed their warm-ups and I could only figure that this would be a great day to be homeless. And I was off.

I was running in the Philadelphia Half Marathon, the only race I am participationg in before the NYC Marathon. I had to be up around 6:30 to make it to city hall for a 7:45 start. I got off the couch I was sleeping on and walked blindly to the kitchen of my friend's apartment to figure out what the fridge had to offer in hangover remedies. Yup, rule #8 Don't drink alcohol before a long run, was virtually ignored the saturday before the race when I met with Pat and Greg, my Philadelphia boozom-buddies. We embarked on an afternoon of beer flights and buffalo wings, exploring bars and restaurants, telling myself that I would need to stop around 10pm and turn to water for the rest of the night. It was rounded to 10:30, then 11:00 as I stumbled to the couch to sleep, Pat on the floor next to me, Greg walking to another bar.

Miles 1-3 proved to be cleansing as I gulped down water at my first official water station and along with the cool air and company of other runners moved passed the slight hangover and into committed running mode. We ran through the city proper until about mile 5 when we branched out and followed a beautiful river in a more rural area. Placed throughout the race were raised stages where local bands played cover songs and original music to fuel our run. After consuming a great deal of water before and during the race I did find myself in need to go to the bathroom (#1) around mile 8. "No problem," I said as I veered off into some woods along the side of the road only to trip on a raised root and nose dive into the dirt below. Luckily I was wearing like most people, the orange ING marathon shirt that was given during the fitness expo the day before, and therefore could not be singled out after the race as the guy who 'face planted it' while trying to take a pee. (Karma perhaps?) There were just enough supporters scattered throughout the race to keep a positive momentum in my head. I rounded the last bend back around city hall with a slight stiffness in my left leg, unrelated to the fall, but pushed it through the last 100 meters. Pat and Greg showed up to support and I crossed the finish line at 2:14:44.

Yay!

I will definitely do a few things differently come the Full marathon like revoke friend privileges from Pat and Greg and get a decent nights sleep, but I'm successfully one step closer to the big show with little over a month to go.

Week Eleven: Mile High Club

She was sitting next to me gazing into my eyes. I leaned over, caressed her hair, and promptly stood up. She followed behind me rubbing my leg as I made my way down to the bathroom. I told her she had to be as quiet as possible.

She, was a stray pit bull that had been following me for the past few blocks and I, just finishing my run, was walking to a park bathroom to wash my hands. As far as flying, the last time I was on a plane I sat next to an obese woman with a knack for clearing her throat like a miner with black lung while continually sucking on lemon drops, neither of which led to any flying forays. On the ground however, I did manage to increase my mileage to a best ever 16.

The run took about 2 hours and 45 min, and left me feeling sore enough that I was "forced to watch" So You Think You can Dance from my couch. My legs are taking a beating on the concrete and I think I'm starting to feel signs of wear. I am due for a new pair of running shoes soon, which might help with the cushioning. Next week I am off to Philadelphia for my first race, a half marathon. It will be interesting running in an event where I don't have to find a vendor to provide water for my soggy cash. Until then, the sky's the limit.

Week Ten: The Marathon Runs

Warning: The post you are about to read contains graphic content, viewer discretion and spastic colons be advised.

Coming off the halfway point I have seen and experienced quite a few things during my training, but nothing in my Marathon for Dummies book warned me about this most recent event. During one of my midweek strolls over the Williamsburg bridge I caught a case of the BG's or as anyone who knows how to gross me out with the full version, Bubble Guts. Yes, I was mid bridge with last nights chicken quesadilla fighting to see the light of day and no bathroom for the next mile.

The night before, was a normal affair, failing a crossword puzzle with a beer in hand and hoping the Yankees would contract ebola before the playoffs. I ordered dinner from a local spanish joint, one where personalizing your meal is a choice between red and green sauce. Devouring the dish was no problem and I had just enough room in my stomach for a night cap of Frosted Flakes before bed. I had planned to run before work the next morning but forgot to set my alarm so I awoke later then expected with a sense of urgency to get my run in time, throwing some clothes on and rushing out the door. A mile in, I was aware that I had skipped the all important morning meeting with my friend John, but I was feeling pretty good and kept on trucking to the base of the Williamsburg Bridge passing some morning commuters on their bikes (cheating much?) and made my way up before hearing the dreaded rumbling sound in my stomach, similar to the idling of a 18 wheeler or a quiet thunder foreshadowing inclement weather. The steady climb up the bridge was then again disrupted by a series of muffled internal cries, like a man being held under his will in a trunk of a car. The running slowed to a walk and I assessed my situation. Continue to walk with clenched determination until I reached Manhattan, or run and risk pulling a Paula Radcliffe all over the bridge. I pictured a doctor in a delivery room yelling at me, "Either way you like it it's coming out!" The rumbling continued and I knew I had to let some of the quesadilla back into the atmosphere. Like a trained assassin putting a silencer on a gun I squeaked a few brow arching gems and continued. Around the top of the bridge my threat alert had turned from Amber to Red, and I picked up my pace. My facial expression must have been an obvious indicator of my troubles, cause I caught a pitied glance from a woman who obviously had previously gone through a similar affair, but had taken her time this morning primping her hair, eating breakfast and relishing in her morning BM. Damn you I thought as I stumbled like a wounded soldier down the back half of the bridge. I was getting closer. I could see a row of fast food restaurants about 500 yards away and spastically kept my pace. I tried to will myself to salvation, muttering positive reinforcements out loud; "You can do this, you are a strong person, this is nothing, just a little pain, all part of the process," but the conversation quickly turned to "Please don't shit your pants!, for the love of god hold it in!" I crossed into Manhattan territory and waited for traffic to pass as patiently as a man can be before having a quesadilla baby and darted to McDonalds thinking I was in the clear only to have the restroom occupied. I rushed past Burger King fearing the same and made my way into a local pizza place. Using the bathroom required a purchase and I bought a water with a sweat infused dollar bill. The man behind the counter reluctantly gave me the key probably figuring he had just enabled some strung out addict safe haven for a quick fix. But screw him. I had made it, key in hand, nothing to stop me. I opened the bathroom door and went in.

I had that meeting with John that morning, a very long one, and ran home with a smile on my face like boy acing a school exam only I don't think I'm gonna put this victory on my refridgerator... just a blog.

Week Nine: Halftime

I am halfway into my training and feel pretty good about the whole experience so far. I have stayed on schedule and only missed two days of running in 2 months of training. Here is my running schedule to get a better idea of the mileage from the last 8 weeks and the weeks to follow:

I am running in the novice program, something that I haven't chosen since my lapse in playing Halo on Xbox where I was tired of being fragged to death by Covenant forces. I have run approximately 146 miles burning over 16,000 calories in the process which brings me to my diet, something that ranges from a healthy afternoon salad to an all you can eat buffalo wing bonanza. It really doesn't matter what I eat as long as I'm putting a lot of carbs into my belly, something I enjoyed before training. I have created some tasty treats that are perfect for my running.

Carb Your Enthusiasm:

2 Slices wheat bread

1 small bag of lays potato chips

Sliced jalapenos

hot sauce

Place chips on bread, add jalapenos and hot sauce. Squish together like a sandwich and eat

Mainly I eat cereal and call it a day. God I love cereal. Buffalo wings and cereal. I think I smell another recipe in the making. I'll get back to you on that.

I ran my taper down this week and am back up to 15 for next week. Breaks over. SOMEONE THROW ME A WING!