Master of One

If I hadn't become a runner I might not have the opportunity to take pictures like this one. Today marked the end of my heavy training for the Philly Marathon in three weeks. I ran 20 miles this morning and on my second trip through the Navy Yard, around mile 9 I stopped for 30 seconds to take this and stretch my hamstrings.

It is fully fall here in Philly, the temperature not getting above 45 degrees this morning, but the sun was out and the Delaware River was calm and peaceful. This shot has been edited with Google tools and I like the way it pulls out the few puffy clouds. Over the course of three hours the sky went from completely cloudless to only slightly cloudy, though the breeze did come up a bit to make the inward leg a bit harder than the outward. All in all, though, it was another beautiful day to be out, though I'd like to take a second to say, "Fuck! I ran for three hours and ten minutes straight!"

I learned a couple of things about distance running today. First, my body is ready for the marathon. Yes, my quads asked me to stay away from stairs for a few hours afterwards, but they'll be fine tomorrow. Second, I need to find something to eat in addition to my energy pudding before heading out. It's fine through about two hours, but I was getting hungry, so I guess I was starting to burn fat. Not that that's a bad thing, in conjunction with GU at regular intervals, but it was distracting me. Lastly, I have to focus on keeping my mind occupied. I don't know that I was bored, exactly, but after two and a half hours I needed some sort of stimulation besides singing the same song over again. Yes, Indestructible is a great song, and fittingly appropriate for me right now, but let's move on to something else, shall we?

I have to think that I will be happily stimulated on race day by being surrounded by other runners, by being in an actual race, by accomplishing what I set out to do way back in June. I continue to smile at those moments when I picture the end of the race and that sense of triumph I will feel. Hell, I've already planned my next tattoo will be the race logo (trademark infringement!). I'm even planning to improve for my next race. It's interesting to me that, while I often profess and try to live by a creed of laissez-faire, I don't settle for "just good enough" in my running. I want to excel once I've made this first marker.

Here's the wishful thinking moment. I wish that I could hire a trainer and do nothing but run better, wherever and whenever I want, and when I'm not running I'm practicing philanthropy. That would be a perfect world.

Fitter/Happier

This may not look like much but my feet are in heaven. Superfeet have gone and replaced the original hard plastic sole of their inserts with carbon fiber. There are a number of benefits, not the least of which is comfort - the shape naturally conforms to the heel and sole of my foot.

I'm also expecting that the curved rear edges (as opposed to the straight, raised edge in the previous design) will deliver a more relaxed rotational transition from my outside heel strike to toe-off, and hopefully eliminate the nagging ache in my ankle. There is also a sense of completeness, or "oneness" to this design - while there are two distinctly different materials they seem to be molded together, not glued together, even though they are.

They will get their first tryout tomorrow on a 16-mile run. Followed by a full day at work. Followed by a heavy night's sleep, no doubt. This is an update post, and probably the most significant item is that I am recovering from my long runs quickly. The actual runs have their moments of struggle, but by the next morning I am without any physical repercussions. I find this rather remarkable at my age. I figure that between drugs, alcohol and cigarettes I've taken ten years off my life expectancy, but this running thing and its attendant weight training and healthier diet may reverse some of that. I feel better now than at any point in my life. There's a bounce in my step most of the time, I smile readily, I want to go run nearly every day, and I want to share this with everyone.

It's hard to believe that back in June I was so excited by running five miles and now that's a throwaway distance. That's crazy. Seriously. Five miles means going out and running for 45-50 minutes. That's not an insignificant amount of time. Just let me go change! Ha ha, what a gas! 67 sessions, 60 hours, 375 miles. Bring it. I'm ready.

Marc Parent @newbiechronicle wrote in Runners World last month on realizing that you're probably a runner if....You lay in bed at night and say My God, I just ran ___ miles and you used to say My God, I just ate ___ Oreos. And...Sore muscles make regular people cranky. Sore muscles make runners' eyes spin in their heads and say "Alive, man. Alive!" That is so me now. Hey! Wanna see the blood blister on my toe?!

10/25 - Update. They really did make my ankle pain go away. Fabulous new design.

Riven

She peers. It's beyond just looking. You can tell that she sees something you don't. Did you pass it by and not notice, or did it appear after you were there? Either way, she sees it and you didn't, so you're curious, timid even. You go back and silently try to discern what has caught her attention. To no avail. Without a word she turns and walks by.

It scorches when turned your way, that look, for there is something that you've hidden or forgotten or ignored. But she can see it. Your response is visceral. It pummels and churns its way further inside and ultimately leaves you bereft, for you did not or cannot see what she did.

Yet you are oddly enamored of that penetrating, searching, yearning look. It speaks to you of a desire to fully understand where we fit, how we join our simplest nature to the rest of the world. It eschews both falsity and convention, delving ever deeper into the very essence of the thing, without preconceived notion, until it elicits the truth. That truth is what you fear and that look can strip you of all that you believe, all that you trust, all that you think you know. The cliff's edge she has brought you to delineates your here and now and what you might be. Softly, softly. Draw close. Release is your desire.

Crush

It was a flurry, nay, a spate. It was glorious, revelatory, exciting, unexpected, occasionally harrowing in its utterly raw spirit. And deeply affecting. From nowhere to everywhere. It burrowed inside and would not let go. It filled me, it drained me. It lit me up like nothing ever before. And then it vanished.

So much beauty and pain. I am all I could offer. I am Disturbed. I am Stricken. Yet I am strangely joyous. I am awake to possibilities I did not seek.

Kiss me one last time.

What boorish behavior

Is it the weather? Is it sheer stupidity? Is it an inability to separate real from imagined? Is it a learned response? What is it that makes people fight? And is it more prevalent here in the city, or am I just more exposed to it by living in a densely-populated place?

Two days ago I came home for lunch to a block filled with (mostly) young people battling in the street. It appeared to be between two houses in particular, but there was some spillover. Fortunately the most lethal weapon I saw was a wiffle bat, though there was one broom. No knives, no guns - which is fairly unheard of in this neighborhood. Just a bunch of yahoos yelling amidst the ebb and flow of bodies back and forth across the street. The police came, all six cars worth, and settled the fracas. Again. The same crew lit up the block two weeks ago. I am mostly only concerned about the child in one of the houses and her ability grow up unscathed by her mother's behavior.

It's a spectator sport, of course. All those who were not involved were out on their porches watching. Given the relatively low physicality of it all I suppose that's to be expected. Still, it was a pretty unhinged vignette. The looks on peoples' faces ranged from bemused to just shy of true malice. I did overhear one person say that someone ought to call the cops, but no one jumped at the opportunity.

The next day brought an even sadder scene, also on my way home for lunch. Two teenaged girls were duking it out on the sidewalk while their mothers egged them on! I didn't stick around to see if the parents got into it as well, but it sure wouldn't have surprised me. What on earth were they all thinking? That's just so far removed from my experience. I don't get it.

Sensory goodness in an urban environment

Not everything that happens in South Philly counts as horror-fest material. I want to dissuade you of that notion. Sure, it has its moments, but there are some good things that should be noted. (These happen to affect the ears, eyes and nose.)

For instance, I realized this past week that SEPTA has now replaced nearly all of its buses with hybrids. They are so quiet! It's almost like you don't notice them anymore. It used to be that you couldn't help but notice them, what with the engine noise and diesel smoke belching from the back. Now it's just a smooth, gentle behemoth gliding block to block. So thanks, SEPTA. Money well spent.

I was running through FDR Park this morning and saw one of the ball fields being cut. In and of itself that's pretty unremarkable, but I have some historical perspective here. I used to go to the Spectrum for concerts almost weekly in high school (mid- to late-70's time frame) and FDR was a bombed-out, weed-stricken wasteland. Now it's not. Anyway, the ball fields are in really nice shape, and this particular groundskeeper was doing a second pass, on the bias. It makes for a more uniformly smooth surface to play on, and it looks darned good, too. More importantly, I think, is the dedication of the person cutting that grass. It's time-consuming to do it right, but there he was, paying attention to detail for the benefit of all of us. So thanks, Parks and Rec. Time well spent.

On the food front, you may or may not know that I am a vegetarian. Not a militant one, and too enamored of ice cream to become a vegan, but I don't eat meat anymore. For no particular reason. It just kind of happened. I do not mind the smell of grilling meat, though. (Except that really humid morning I ran through the tailgater smoke at Citizens Bank Park and nearly lost it.) And there are two spots on my commute that stand out.

First, Nick's Charcoal Pit at 13th and Snyder. It smells of quality charcoal and animal fat when I go by any time after about 11 in the morning. Simple, succulent. Second, Nick's Old Original at 20th and Jackson. When I was a kid growing up in a 200-year old farmhouse in Valley Forge, Saturday meant a trip to the lumber yard for one project or another, and on more than a few occasions lunch at the Beef and Ale in Berwyn. My dad invariably had a glass of Rolling Rock draft and I had a soda. It went perfectly with the hot roast beef sandwich. What a heavenly smell and taste. The block downwind of Nick's smells just like that every day but Sunday. So thanks, you guys named Nick. Aromas well vented.

I am a runner

It's pretty hard to believe that I am enjoying running. At no point in my life did I think this would be the case. I ran track in high school and was a pretty good sprinter (9.87 hundred) but never wanted to run any distance to do the training to get better. I even begged off the longer training runs in college when I was rowing and in ridiculously good shape. Because I smoked from the time I was 14. It was just too much effort to run more than ten minutes at a time. Of course, I'm not sure I knew that then. I just didn't feel like it.

But this is different. I quit smoking cold turkey when I was 24 and for some idiotic reason started again ten years later. The past couple of years people would ask me when I was going to quit. I had this niggling idea that I wouldn't smoke for my whole life but I sure wasn't ready to stop. But my employer offers free patches and counseling plus a credit against medical benefits costs. So in February I decided it was time. The 21st. That was the last day I smoked. Eight weeks of the patch and weekly check-ins with a counselor and that was the end of it.

On June 4th I decided to reward myself for this accomplishment. I mean, really, I'd smoked for a total of 30-odd years and this is a BIG DEAL. Those who know me are familiar with my propensity to dive into new things head first, get bored and move on to something else. (I wonder if I have ADD?) So the decision to run in a marathon five months later was perhaps a bit grandiose, but I did a fair amount of research and found that I had plenty of time to train to finish a marathon. So on June 5th I registered for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 17th. I went to Philadelphia Runner and got fitted for running shoes and began this new journey.

Today marks 250 miles in. That's just incredible. The picture above shows my two pairs of Asics, because I know the first pair won't last through November. Interestingly, the new pair, although exactly the same shoe, does not feel the same. I can't decide if it's because the first pair are worn in and comfy or if they're just different. We'll give them a couple of weeks and then decide. Over the next ten weeks I'll tack on another 350 miles. And it's all good.

That's not to say that there aren't any days when it's hard to get going, or finish, but all in all I feel defined by my running now. It's a regular part of my week and affects many aspects of my days. There are new aches and pains that come and go as the weeks pass (I'm really glad my right hip has stopped hurting so much) and my diet is a constant part of my day. Being a vegetarian requires vigilance doing endurance work. The brass ring is hanging out there for me, though. On November 17th I will finish my first marathon and the feeling is going to be simply amazing. Which is why I've already registered for the next one. And why I'm even considering swimming, something I liked less than running, even though I was good at that, too, so I can do a triathlon. That'd be cool.

I do not run with earbuds. It's probably a walking and chewing gum thing. I don't think I could run at a steady pace if I had music playing. Especially with all the time signature changes in the metal I love so. I'd be out of breath after three songs. And you're not allowed to run races with them anyway. No, I enjoy taking in my surroundings and listening to my body. The vast majority of my runs are in the morning, but today I started around 5:00 and had the great pleasure of seeing late afternoon sun on the Delaware River, silhouettes of egrets and herons in sharp contrast to the water.

Climatology sidelight here: I have run on fifty one separate occasions through this past summer, virtually all of them outside. I have not once run in the rain. And we've had record rainfall this year.

At this point in my life it is enough to know that, having set a goal, I can accomplish it and move on to the next. I do it each week as I add mileage. Too many years went by without focus. And I can breathe!