26.1 TO GO

No Turning Back Now

2010-03-29T11:49:00.000-07:00

The last long run before race day is complete.

It's two miles short of what I was supposed to do, and it was the craziest roller coaster ride I have ever been on.

I ran with Mike, as he has been a rock star and improved his running time by roughly 3 minutes per mile in the last two weeks. So it was a great help to have him for company and for motivation. Unfortunately, he probably is not as happy he had me for a running partner Sunday.

I started off in that "I really don't feel like doing this" mood. So I told Mike I would run behind him and I was able to block out the negative thoughts and just concentrate on the rhythm of his feet and match my pace with his....left...right....left....right. That got me through the first ten miles with a stop here and there for a drink, or a Gu, or a trip to the natural bathroom that the woods so generously provide. My knees were hurting, my neck was tight, and I was complaining a little.

The next three miles I started to break out of the funk, and felt pretty good. I took the lead, and we came to a fork in the road. Following the road straight would have gotten us home faster, but our 18 mile course demanded that we turn right. Mentally, I took another turn, and started down a frightful path. It started to rain, my whole body was aching, 15 miles in and I had no idea where we were. I knew I was looking for a stop sign, but every time I cleared a hill and saw open road, there was no stop sign. I thought maybe we mapped the route wrong and started thinking about calling someone to come pick me up. I thought I was hurting so badly that I would never make it back home if the stop sign wasn't even within eyshot yet. Then I got mad at Mike thinking that it was his fault that we didn't take the stupid shortcut at the fork in the road when we could have. Then I screamed out with gusto, "Where the &*^% is this f*#&ing stop sign? Where the %$# are we?!?!?" It was a complete meltdown. If I had any energy left, I would have cried.

Well, once I got it together, the stop sign appeared and I recovered, knowing I only had two miles to go. I was hurting, but I got into a rhythm behind Mike again, and was able to push out the hill at the end of that ridiculous run.

I'm hoping that the crowds and the scenery will sooth the rage in me when I hit those tough moments in the race. And I hope Mike is mentally strong enough for both of us, the way he was this past Sunday.

Food For Thought & Runners

2010-03-13T13:37:00.001-08:00

On Thursday 11^th March, Dani and I headed to the Center City Philadelphia Runner store to hear a talk led by Nancy Clark, one of America’s leading sports nutritionists and author of the book “Nancy Clark’s Food Guide for Marathoners”. Small in stature and huge in personality, she answered every question posed and gave some great insights and ideas. Her key ideas were:

1. Think of your body as a vehicle and figure out how much fuel it needs to get you through the day.

This was done through some simple arithmetic that I’ll try and explain. Start with your target body weight in pounds and multiply it by 10. This is the number of calories the body will need in one day to survive with no exercise. To account for the everyday energy the body uses during the day (carrying groceries, luggage or children, walking to and from the car, loading a new pack of paper into the photocopier), add 50% of this total. If it’s a running day, add 100 calories for each mile you run.

Using myself as an example:

Target weight is 200lb

Calories needed daily to exist is 200 x 10 = 2000 Calories

Add 50% for Daily activity (Stripping wallpaper, walking to the South Philly Taproom etc) = 3000 Calories

If I were to run to FDR Park and back (my 6 Mile route), I’d add 600 Calories, making my daily calorific requirement 3600 Calories. Easy peasy.

2. Eat the same size meal, 4 times Daily.

Nancy recommended that we should be eating 4 times a day, every 4 hours, with each meal giving us a quarter of our body’s daily need. So if my body needs 3600 Calories, I should be eating 900 calories for breakfast, 900 at Lunch, Nancy introduced the concept of 2^nd Lunch (also 900 calories) and then 900 calories for Dinner. She explained that the regular eating pattern and second lunch prevents lows and food cravings (notably when you get home from work and you’re starving).

3. The food break during a long run should be a reward, something to look forward to.

If you don’t like GU or Shot Bloks, then don’t eat them. You can replenish your body’s needs to the same extent with Gummy Bears, Nuts, Tootsie Rolls, Dried Fruit, M&M’s, Pretzel, Twizzlers. She apologised to the storeowner for any impact on sales.

4. Figure out how much water the body sweats so you know how much you need to replenish.

Simply, weigh yourself naked. Go run for an hour and weigh yourself naked again. Every pound you lose is a pint (16oz) of liquid. Use this number to evaluate how much you should be taking with you and drinking on the longer runs. On this point she also added that it is important to train your intestines as to what they can expect, as well as your muscles. If we go to Paris and are drinking water or Powerade at each of the 5k intervals, and we haven’t been doing the same in training, our bodies will react badly.

5. You should be peeing every two hours.

If you’re peeing less frequently, increase your water intake. Water in juices, coffee, lettuce, yogurt etc counts too!

6. Electrolytes = Sodium

You shouldn’t be drinking a sports drink unless you’re exercising – a Gatorade from Wawa with lunch is just adding extra salt to your diet.

Dani and I picked up her book and would definitely recommend it. She really seems to grasp that people have lives outside of running and that it’s difficult to balance hectic schedules with training. We’re definitely going to give the 4 hour, second lunch plan a go and Dani’s excited that she can give up the GU in favor of something her body likes.

On the way out, Dani asked Ross (the Philadelphia Runner co-owner) if he’d heard from Mizuno about the running shoe sponsorship for Tom Coyne. He responded, “Who is Tom Coyne?” I guess he’s a Jeopardy fan too!

Best Laid Plans

2010-03-12T16:23:00.000-08:00

I think it was inevitable that it was going to end up this way. Despite a lifetime of better efforts, no matter how much I plan in advance, deadlines are met with an adrenaline fueled, high octane dash to the finish line. Having spent most of November and December using the weather, work commitments, the Philadelphia Eagles home schedule and anything else I could muster as an excuse to not run, I found myself on a plane with Dani on the way back from Christmas and New Year with our family in Europe and only 14 weeks to prepare for Paris. Still enough time to prepare without the last minute, frantic panic. I was convinced. The plane touched down on January 6th, I vowed that January 7th was to be the first day of 14 weeks dedicated to gym enrollment, the accumulation of road miles, physical fitness and nutritional health.

January 7^th – Julian, You’re Fired.

Generally, I was not fond of my job. For nine months I learnt a lot, unfortunately most of the lessons fell in the “What not to do” column. But I was being paid, paying bills, I had a client that I loved to work for and (I later discovered) loved the work I was doing for them.

With a house move on the horizon, hiding out as long as it took for the clouds of the recession to pass by had been my plan. Unfortunately, the clients that canceled projects or chose not to renew their contracts did not share this plan. Neither did my boss who had the courage to ask someone else to pull me aside at the end of the day to ask me to pack up my things and bid me a fond farewell. At least I suddenly had time on my hands to run, you would think.

With my calendar suddenly open, I was now able to help Dani’s dad (Rainer) work on our new home. Even an untrained eye would know that a toilet and wash basin shouldn’t be 2 feet from the circuit breaker panel in the basement, or that outlets on all three floors shouldn’t be protected by just one fuse. Rainer had trained as an electrician in Germany many years ago, prior to a career developing new technologies for Siemens and he was heading over for three weeks to manage the rewiring project at our new home. A daily pattern quickly began to emerge – breakfast, work, lunch, work until 9pm, dinner and 3 beers, bed. No time to run, and limited physical capability to do so even if I wanted to. 11 weeks to go and no effort made to fulfill the promise I made to myself on the January 6^th flight.

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses an Eye!

Other than the promise I’d made to myself, I’d forgotten a lot. I forgot that I’d made a promise to do this. I forgot that I was part of a team of 12 that were also dealing with personal and professional commitments as well as inner demons. I also forgot that I was part of a team of 2, and that Dani had our own plan and commitment to help each other get to the finish line. Despite my complaints, tantrums and reluctance to put in any effort, Dani had continued to forge forward. She was putting in the miles on the road or getting to the gym to run on a treadmill when the snow outside was too deep.

Then she quit.

She’d run further than she ever had before and was rightly proud of her accomplishments. She was financially supporting us both whilst running a business in the same recession that had cost me my job. Airfare to Paris and accommodation for two was going to be expensive. She wasn’t getting the motivation she needed from her coach, but more importantly she wasn’t getting any from me. Some kind of team-mate I was.

This was the motivation I needed to get back out there, but now I needed to find a way to pick Dani up too. I threw everything I could at her – the history of Germany v England (sporting and otherwise), the story we’d tell our grandchildren (a weapon she’d used to good effect to motivate us both early on in the project), and the fact that her competitive nature wouldn’t let me do this without her. I managed to get her back on the road logging the miles again, but she wasn’t convinced.

Paris 2010 BK (Before Kate)

On February 27^th, Tom had arranged for us to meet with Sports Psychologist, Kate Taylor. Mike and Kim kindly offered their home as a meeting venue and welcomed us on a cold Saturday morning with champagne bottle in hand, enough food to feed 12 hungry runners for a week and the phrase “We’re not going to run today right? it’s too cold”. My kind of people.

Kate had been introduced to Tom through his Bishop’s Collar network. As Kate Fonshell (her unmarried name) Kate had walked behind the US Flag in Atlanta 1996, representing her country as an Olympian in the 10,000m. Kate had trained as a Sports Psychologist and she wasn’t here to wave the flag, but to boost the flagging. In light of the mental cracks that were beginning to appear in us all it was as welcome as the mimosas and cinnamon rolls that accompanied the discussion.

It was amazing to hear a world class athlete talk humbly of the demons that they battled as a college athlete and as an Olympic hopeful. We openly shared our own worries and concerns and she reassured us all that the goal was still in our reach. We talked about visualization, devising a mental as well as a physical plan for the race, we had our running form reviewed and importantly for Tom, she reminded us that he had only provided us with the opportunity and that taking it was our fault and not his.

Importantly I felt that we came back together as a team with encouragement from each others accomplishments. Cristin joined us live from Dubai via satellite having completed a half marathon in the dessert. Helene’s run log showed that she’d run the equivalent of Philadelphia to Pittsburgh and back. Shannon, in true altruistic Coyne style, had found a passion for running that she converted to helping others. Mike had dropped pounds while he and Kim had become the envy of their neighbors as they ran to basketball practices rather than drive the few miles. And Dani asked the question, “With six weeks to go and only a handful of long runs under our belt, is there still enough time to be prepared for Paris?” Kate answered “Yes.” Team Europe was back in the race.

Running with Duffy.

After we met with Kate, Duffy suggested to Dani and I that we meet the next weekend and do our long run together. We run at a similar pace (10 to 11 minute miles), Dani and Duff like to run on Forbidden Drive, we had similar distance goals (Dani and I 14 miles, Duff,16). Perfect.

We agreed to meet at Valley Green Inn at 9:30am on Saturday March 6th; Duff and Dani had charted a course with appropriate intervals:

Section 1 - Valley Green Inn to the equestrian center and back - 1 hour, 5 miles, water and GU.

Section 2 - Valley Green Inn to Kelly Drive - 1 hour, 4.5 Miles, water and GU.

Section 3 - Kelly Drive to Valley Green Inn - 1 hour, 4.5 Miles, water and GU.

Duff was then in a position to run the extra 2 miles, body permitting. Dani and I were able to collapse into a heap, 5 weeks from Paris with our 1^st half marathon complete.

10:30am – Section 1 went as well as could be expected. The sun had emerged from its hibernation and the conditions for running were better than they had been for the previous 2 and a half months. Duff cast aside his sweatshirt and jogging pants and off we went on the next leg of the run, to Kelly Drive. The snow and ice on the path was still heavy in parts, making it more of an arctic assault course than a running trail. This made the section slower, but intact, we arrived at Kelly Drive and the end of Section 2. This is where Dani, Duff and I split up.

11:16am - Convinced that if he ran back to Valley Green Inn with us, Duff was confident that his car seat would be too appealing and that there was no way he would motivate himself to run an extra 2 miles to achieve his goal. Instead, he decided he would run from Kelly Drive to the Falls Bridge, and then back to Valley Green with his 16 mile goal accomplished. Dani and I wished him well, expressed that we may see him back at the end and we headed our separate ways.

12:24pm - Our final 4.5 miles were a slog and progress had not been quick. We stretched out our tired limbs as best we could replenished our bodies with water and shot blocks, and any other foodstuff that was lying in the car. We had run slowly and it took some time for us to be able to stretch our limbs enough to operate a vehicle. As we drove away, Dani commented, “I’m surprised that we didn’t see Duffy finish.”

Square One

2010-03-03T10:38:00.000-08:00

Well, after 7 months, countless doctor visits, hundreds of dollars in co-pays, 12 extra pounds and 8 weeks in 1 giant boot, the doctor has cleared me to start training again.

I have to admit that when the good doctor told me I was not to do any weight bearing exercise of any kind, I thought it was the best news I'd heard in my entire adult life. I had permission to be the lazy, out of shape person I always knew I was.

I had the best of both worlds...I could legitimately say I was injured while I was training for a marathon (no one had to know I was only up to 3 miles). I became a fake athlete and talked more about running and sports injuries than I ever thought possible. Other runners treated me like one of their own. And I never had to run. It was brilliant.

All that being said, with Paris approaching I've started to feel sad about not being part of this experience the way that I thought I could have been. There's little reward in being the first one "booted" off the island.

After meeting with the team and listening to their stories of struggling to get to distances I can still only imagine, I've become inspired. You all have come so far and accomplished so much already. I now wish I knew the feeling of completing a "long run" or a race (or even 3 miles at this point). You should all be VERY proud.

So by the time the team is headed to Paris, I will be up to one slow mile on the treadmill (according to my new training schedule). It may sound crazy but I am determined to start running again. I think I'll start with a 5k though. Let's face it, 26miles is just f-ing nuts Tom.

Le Run de Breakfast

2010-02-22T06:59:00.000-08:00

I found this clip on the marathon's website and thought it might be of interest. For those of you traveling with family or friends who may have caught the running bug, there is a choose your own distance (up to 5k) breakfast race on Saturday, April 10, that takes you down the homestretch of the marathon. I have no idea what this guy in the video is going on about (per my limited French, I think he's trying to order soup), but it was somewhat inspiring to see the various nationalities and walks of life that arrive in Paris to be a part of all this. If I can get a running stroller to France, I'm thinking about running this with Allyson and Maggie. It's free, and a good way to shake off some jet lag. And it's the way to score a free banana, apparently. Have to brush up on my banana dance...

And then I found this clip on YouTube...kind of inspiring. It gets a PG-13 for the unexpected number of rubdowns going on here, but hell, it's France. And some of these folks look pretty poky, so take heart.

Marathon in jeopardy? I hope so!

2010-02-18T09:44:00.000-08:00

If any of you were wondering about that window-rattling boom that originated in southeastern Pennsylvania this past Monday evening, that was my head exploding. At around 7:15, I walked in the door to a phone call from Fred, and I answered in the hopes that he was calling to cancel this Sunday's run. He was actually calling with more interesting news: "Dude. You were just a question on Jeopardy." As a lifelong Jeopardy devotee, I thought his call a cruel trick, payback for bringing the word "interval" into his life. But when another friend sent along this screen shot:
my head proceeded to inflate faster than a crash test air bag. Ego came gushing out of my ears, filling our living room and threatening to drown us all. (If you've seen this on Facebook this week--yeah, I'm still not over it.)

As I catch Jeopardy on most evenings, I was crushed that I wasn't watching when the question came up, though it was probably for the best. I'm sure I would have passed out, dropped the baby, or pizza-tossed the dog. Being part of a Jeopardy answer/question has been my life's secret ambition, so if it weren't for this marathon, I might never try to accomplish anything ever again. No races. No contests. No quizzo for me. I wouldn't attempt so much as a crossword puzzle--I would just go sit on my stoop for the next forty years and tell passersby about the night I was a $400 question. And I would leave out the part about the three lumps who didn't buzz in to answer.

Which brings me to a new ambition--to become a Jeopardy question that someone knows the answer to. Or maybe a Daily Double. Which is where the Paris Twelve comes in. Somewhere amid these many solitary miles, we might have lost interest in one of the cool things about this slog--that people are going to experience all of this with us, in a blog, in a book, and maybe a game show. A whole bunch of strangers are going to be running right with us, pulling for us, critiquing us, becoming friends we didn't know we had. I've never felt quite as lonely as I have on these long winter runs, so let's not forget that we have some company. And with each new mile and new challenge and new circumstance, we are writing a story--a story that might end up crossing Alex Trebek's sweet lips someday in that ultimate dream: 26.1 to Go, the Jeopardy category. Consider the possibilities: "What is, molasses?" "What is, Body Glide?" "What is, a stress fracture?" "Where is, the Bishop's Collar?" "What is, last place?" Post your own 26.1 to Go question/answers here. You never know who's following...

Hawks, Buzzards and Other Mind Games

2010-02-15T09:03:00.000-08:00

I'm posting on behalf of our brother in running, Brian:

Hard to believe, but I think back to August to try to gain some perspective on where this running journey has taken me. This one of the many mind games I play in trying to convince myself that this training-for-a-marathon-experiment-in-idiocy can possibly end well. I think back to my first attempts of running again after years of rust and fat build-up, those desperate steps on the boardwalk in OC in which a mile was a struggle. Can't you just run to the Music pier and back, you pathetic geezer??!! I remember the heat, the sweat, the utter humiliation. Well, minus the heat, not much has changed...or has it?

I have now stretched out my training runs to what is legitimately labeled "long runs"- 10 mile, 9 mile, 10 mile, 11 mile and 12 mile runs under my belt. I hope to manage 13 or 14 really slow miles this weekend, my head bobbing above the canyons of snow plowed along the path on Kelly Drive. I am quite amazed at how far I have come from those hot, futile runs last summer, yet I am overwhelmed by the distances still to be overcome. The 12 miles last Sunday seemed to take every ounce of energy, strength and fortitude I could muster. How can I possibly double this output and then some in two months time on the streets of Paris?? How much more do I really have in this aging body?

The math does not add up. I find myself doing math in my head constantly on my runs. How far have I gone? How much further do I have to go? If I turnaround now, how far will that take me? How many three mile loops go into 26.2? What time did I start my run? What time will it be when I finish? How long will I run for? How many weeks to Paris? How many "long runs" left on the training schedule? How many times have I heard this U2 song? How far have I ran since I last heard it? And on and on... Can I patent a running shirt with a built-in calculator in the sleeve? How can I get the math to add up on April 11?

A few weeks ago, I was three quarters of my way through my "long run", about 7 miles and 80 minutes through along Forbidden Drive, when I saw a large hawk sitting on a low branch of a tree alongside the trail just in front of me. Maybe it was a hallucination? I nearly stopped, but continued on and passed within 15 feet of the predator, his eyes following me the whole time as I cautiously moved in full front of him. As I ran past, I wondered what he must have been thinking....Can I take this guy and be set for winter and beyond? Kind of like hitting the hawk powerball lottery. I ran faster to ensure I was out of range quickly, my heart beating faster but not because I was running faster, hoping that the rules of nature would hold sway. Hawks swoop down on squirrels and rabbits and mice and such, not cows, pigs or gorillas, right?

Running back on Forbidden Drive, I often see the hawks majestically circling the trees overhead. Toward the end of a "long run", I sometimes wonder if they are not buzzards circling, waiting for the impending collapse of the carcass. They can smell it, can't they? The thought keeps me moving, further than I ever have run before.

I imagine Paris. I see people lined on the streets, shouting in French. I see myself sprinting to the finish line, but I can't be sure yet if I bask in sunlight or flood light. What are the tube stops near miles 18, 20, 22, 23, 24? Mile 25? If I make it that far, I know I can low crawl the rest of the way, like the way we stormed the beaches on the coast to the west.

I have had a few runner's highs on some of the "long runs". The Gu packs have sure helped(thanks Fred!). After an especially good vanilla bean last week, my step noticeably picked up at mile 9. I felt like I had a huge zipper lined down the front of my body. I unzip it and ran out of a huge layer of myself, the skin and fat of the previous me left behind on the trail behind me, the "long run" new me bounding forward, light and fleet. Could I possibly do this? Could I have again become that runner from so many years ago? Then mile 11 came, and I shuffle that last mile to the finish, completely crushed and unsure if this is at all possible.

But I figure if I can do 12, I can squeeze out 14. And if I can do 14, I can do... March 21 is circled on my calendar. That's my target date for 20 miles. I'll know better that if I can get to 14 then I can get to 20. And if I can get to 20, then...the race starts at 20, I am told! As long as I don't stop moving, I know I can get to 20!! The math means nothing, it's all in my head, and if I just don't stop moving, I will get to 26.2. And if I can do this, we all can do this. I hope and pray I can do this!

As as aside, thank god for Gu. The Gu gels are awesome, and I look forward to those packets along my runs the way I used to look forward to a Wendy's double with cheese. I have found that my tastes in Gu are very similar to my tastes in general. My preferences are in the vanillas and chocolates, not so much in the fruits. I can attest to one side effect that should raise caution in using Gu before a date or job interview. After a recent "long run", I stiffly shuffled up to my house and in the door, greeted with a jumping-into-the-arms hug from my three year old. I gave her a big kiss, and she recoiled, her nose shriveling up at me. "Bridget, what's the matter?" "Daddy, your breath is stinky!!" Relieved and satisfied, I said, "I know, sweetheart, I know". As she ran off to the play room, I was sure that no matter where this journey ends, it's been worthwhile getting here. At least that's what I will be telling myself on Sunday, round about mile 12.

BD

Vive le Paris 12!

2010-02-14T00:07:00.000-08:00

With Paris looming ever closer, I decided to brush up on my French. I've collected some phrases that might come in handy during the marathon.

Je suis désolé de courir. I hate running.
Je vais vomir. I'm going to vomit.
Non, je ne peux pas aller un peu plus vite. No, I cannot go any faster.
Mes jambes font mal. My legs hurt.
Je veux crier. I want to cry.
Pourquoi ai-je dit que je le ferais? Why did I say I would do this?

I also discovered some interesting idioms:

Ah, la vache! (Oh, the cow!) Oh my god!
Avoir une araignée au plafond (To have a spider in the head) To have a screw loose
C'est la fin des haricots. (That's the end of the beans.) It's the last straw. / It's hopeless / That's the end of it.
Les carottes sont cuites. (The carrots are cooked.) I've had it. / That's enough.
Avoir le cul bordé de nouilles (To have the ass full of noodles) To be lucky

So, basically, the carrots are totally cooked and I'm at the end of my beans but maybe I'll have an ass full of noodles on April 11th.

Tom Said He Wouldn't Be My Friend if I Didn't Blog

2010-02-13T08:50:00.000-08:00

Greetings all,

Joe Byrne here, reporting live from Chicago where my phone tells me it's 18 degrees with a Real Feel (TM) of 13. So I've got that going for me, which is nice. Tom tells me some of you may be wondering what happened to that one guy who showed up in Philadelphia that one time, the one who huffed and puffed and wheezed his way a couple of miles up and down the lovely riverside path that you're probably all too familiar with. Well, I have been running, albeit a bit less frequently as of late. Cold weather, snow, laziness, long days at work, a dog that needs to be walked and entertained, and attempts at having some semblance of a life, all conspire to make running 5 days a week (16 miles on Saturday Lowell says!) a less than attractive prospect.

To echo what Cristin (or Dubai C. as I like to think of her) wrote, the desire to run this marathon is a bit in question. Would i like to finish a marathon? Absolutely. Would i be crushed if an ankle gave out and the doctor said I couldn't run it? Maybe not. The time commitment required to prepare for this is a bit daunting. I lead a relatively simple life, so i can't even begin to imagine the sacrifice and determination required by many of you with families to stick with this. I'm impressed with all your efforts and you should all really take a moment to congratulate yourselves for all the hard work you've put in thus far. My knowing that the rest of you are out there, running around the highways and by-ways of the greater Philadelphia metro area, helps to get me out on a frost-bitten Tuesday night (oh interval training! what joy!).

I like how i feel after I run. I like that I've lost some weight. I like that I am totally sexier now than I was in August (that part is, I suppose, open to debate). But man, the running itself is just not all that thrilling. When I ran my first 16-miler I wished that I had my transit card to hop on a bus that would whisk me away and back to my couch. But I pressed on. I pressed on because I had told someone I was going to run 16 miles and there was no way I was going to see them later and say, "oh, well yeah... I just ran 9 miles instead...". I pressed on because you all press on. Whether it's the fear (or the hope?) that Tom will de-friend us if we don't run, or something nobler (pride, determination, insanity) that pushes you onward, you're doing it. I'm trying to do it. And by george, come April 11, I'll be planting one foot in front of the other for (hopefully) 4 hours and I'm sure a part of me will be enjoying it.

Sorry, it's early and I don't even know what I'm saying right now, so apologies for such an incoherent post. Tom demanded a post from me and he got it. What he, and no doubt each of you, is now realizing is that you were all doing fine without rambling run-on sentences from that one dude in Chicago. And now for the most important question... anyone up for liquid brunch at the Bishop's Collar? Meet you there in 15 minutes.

26.1 to go: The Movie

2010-02-12T12:45:00.000-08:00

Maggie Gyllenhaal as Cristin Luck

Suzy Kolbert as Kim Gerardi

Phillip Rivers as Mike Gerardi

Milla Jovovich as Daniela Kuehn

Chuck Knoblauch as Fred Plaza

Emily Blunt as Jen Coyne

Emily Blunt as Shannon Coyne

Harrison Ford as Brian Duffy

Leann Rimes as Jeannie Zimmerman

Terri Hatcher as Helene Taylor

Dominic Monaghan as Joe Bryne

Hugh Grant as Julian Hill

Eric Stoltz as Tom Coyne.

You want some good news about your running? Well here you go!

2010-02-11T10:19:00.001-08:00

I would call these the dark times. The crap times. The I'm-sending-all-Tom's-running-emails-into-my-spam-folder-from-now-on times. Three feet of snow. Nowhere to run if you even want to. Yet the clock ticks on and the calendar pages turn, and that finish line in France rapidly approaches. Some of us made great progress, then started to run in place. Or not run at all. Or just kind of disappear (JB? You out there?).

At the two month mark, it seems that most of the Paris Twelve (or shall I say, Ten? Eight?) are feeling squeezed--nay, crushed--by the pressure to train harder and longer, just at the time when running seems to have lost its very last charm (not that it had pocketfuls to begin with). Judging by a teammate's recent suggestion to re-title the project: "On your marks, get set, F@*& that!" I sense a certain frustration brewing. So I thought it might be useful to get a sense of where everyone is right now in terms of preparedness and running state of mind. How about a short quiz?

Out of the following ten statements, how many could you hear yourself saying?

1. I would rather lick the bottom of my sneakers than put them on again.

2. Running is for people who suck at golf/football/poker/darts/having a life.

3. I have considered running drunk in the hopes that it might be less excruciating.

4. Hey, running: You're a dork and nobody likes you.

5. I have contemplated punting a Canadian goose on Kelly Drive, just to make another animal feel my pain.

6. I have lied about a distance I ran.

7. I have lied that I ran at all.

8. I have purchased a package of running energy shots, then eaten them all while watching Kitchen Nightmares.

9. I would rather suffer from the runs than go on one.

10. I used to like myself. Then I started training for a marathon.

How many of the above apply to you? If you said ten out of ten, don't fear, you are not alone. And thanks to our good friends at Mizuno, the Paris Twelve are now not alone in the best kind of way. Mizuno Running has agreed to come on board this adventure as our equipment sponsor and outift us for our training and the Marathon de Paris. So when you are out there searching for the air for that last mile, or if you're in bed, looking for a reason to not just roll over, remember that the finest manufacturer of sporting goods in the world believes in you! You are part of a team! You, the newbie, the misfit, the tortoise--you are sponsored by Mizuno! (At least until they read this blog). I will be in touch as details come together, but I wanted to share the good news. We needed some.

Plodding and scheming

2010-02-01T10:15:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Dubai! This blog entry has been a long time coming so I apologize if I ramble. Bob and I have been plugging along these past few months. Running did not mix too well with a wedding and honeymoon but we’ve managed to stick with it. Our days in Dubai are numbered and we will be moving home in a matter of weeks. I like counting down to our last day, March 15th. April 11th is another matter…

We ran the Dubai Marathon 10k on January 22nd. This will sound ridiculous but I was really nervous about it. So much so that I only got 2-3 hours of sleep the night before. Mentally, I am still having a hard time contemplating stretches of running that exceed an hour. I don’t yet trust that I am capable of such insanity. But the excitement and camaraderie managed to overpower my anxiety and to my surprise, we really enjoyed it. After we finished, we stuck around to watch the winner of the marathon. (We didn’t have to wait that long.) I’ve never seen elite runners that close up. And watching them go by, I’ve never felt so big and slow. So, that’s what real running looks like! Luckily we missed seeing the fastest woman cross the finish line since I later heard that she vomited her way through her last few strides. I am sure I will do the same but unlike her, I won’t be handed a $250,000 check for my troubles. I’ll be lucky if the event hasn’t already closed down and someone is around to hand me a tissue.

I hate to write this but I’ve been starting to really wonder why I am doing this. Not just why but should I. The fact that most of the time I am still not sure can’t be good. Sometimes it feels like the only reason I am doing this is because I said I would. But that does little to bolster you when you are feeling the Dubai sun, your secret water stash is on the other side of the park, your knee is aching and fully-veiled women are speed-walking past you.

According to everything I have read, your state of mind is really what makes or breaks you. I usually prefer a pleasant surprise over a leap of faith and (no shocker here) this has not been serving me too well. I have not seen my “doubt and see” method in any marathon book or article I’ve read. You have to believe that you are capable. This has become my greatest challenge. Every so often, I flip through the book The Non-runner’s Marathon Trainer. And right at the beginning, it is suggested that you tell anyone who will listen that you will be running a marathon, that you are a marathoner. That just doesn’t sit well with me and to this day, I cringe whenever the subject comes up with anyone other than Bob and my family. Can’t I just tell them when I finish? If I finish? (I refuse to think about the fact that Tom is writing anything about this. Book? What book?) I don’t look like a runner. I don’t feel like a runner. So why should I go around advertising myself as a runner? I’m a jogger at best with a knee that doesn’t even want to be that.

I recently went back and re-read that article in the New York Times. I still hate it. But give me a crappy run and I slip to the other side of that argument. I appreciate the hard work and dedication necessary for a newbie to even attempt running, let alone a marathon. And hopefully I will eventually appreciate firsthand the effort it takes to finish one. Still, if by some miracle I do finish, I’m afraid I’ll be closer to someone who had a sherpa drag them up Mt. Everest than a runner who actually ran a race. I hate how negative that sounds and I worry about the toll this mindset is taking on my effort. Which means I am now worrying about worrying. Oh boy this really isn’t good. I’m really over-thinking this aren’t I? I'm annoying myself at this point.   

Bob and I are signed up for the Ras Al Khaimah Half-Marathon on February 19th. Ras Al Khaimah is one of the seven emirates of the UAE and shares a border with Oman. In other words, a perfect location for long-distance running. We discovered the event after regular registration had closed but managed to sneak in through the waiting list. (Damn.) Ironically, we’ve been given left-over double-digit numbers normally reserved for elite runners. It really is a bad time to be in a country that outlaws Tylenol PM.

Despite all my complaining and over-thinking, I am determined to stick with it. I really want to see this through. I think I just needed to vent. The New York Times can still shove it. I hope you are all well!

Calling all couples...

2010-01-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

Mike & Kim! Julian & Dani! Shannon & Bill! Fred & Katie! And despite her Facebook status, Jeannie & Bill! Allyson? (I can swaddle Maggie up and run with her like I'm fullback Fred Plaza...)

Nothing says I love you more than sweaty laps around suburbia, but this sounds like fun. You run as a couple, running in the opposite direction of your partner, passing them again and again throughout the race so you can blow kisses, shout your resentment, or throw hay makers. The race is February 13 at 3:30pm (you can sleep in, J Hill!) in Bryn Mawr. Click the LOVE to register.

Pardon me, Fifteen Miles, but do you really want some of this? Do you? Really?

2010-01-26T10:44:00.000-08:00

And so were some of the thoughts bouncing around an unsteady mind as I tromped my way through the streets of Philadelphia, searching out fifteen downhill miles that would still lead me back to my starting line. I had grown weary of the Kelly Drive loop—last Monday, I ran the four mile back stretch without seeing another living being aside from all the geese in Canada, dodging their crap my afternoon's only diversion.

So for this long run, I mapped out a route through the streets of Philadelphia that would take me past historic sites, motivational monuments, and Wawas where I could refuel on Gatorade and a bacon and cheddar breakfast hoagie. I abandoned that route within a few blocks as I was pushed onto side streets by Septa busses and red lights, but with my handy GPS watch (it’s the size of a car battery, but I love it), I was able to improvise a fifteen mile run through the city of brotherly love.

Along the way, I learned many things. One, Philadelphia is not as large a city as I thought it was. I ran from the Art Museum down to Delaware Avenue, down into South Philly, up into Old City, back to Delaware Ave, up to Northern Liberties, back to Fairmount, and I still had to run four laps around the Eastern State Penitentiary to tally fifteen miles. I also realized that Rocky’s run was not as impressive as I once thought it to be. He really should have bounced up those steps the first time. I followed his route and took a turn down 9^th street and into the Italian market, pumping my arms past rows of produce and dodging a moped teetering under a stack of caged chickens (running through the smoke from the oil barrel bonfires felt particularly cinematic).

As I ran through the theater crowds on Broad Street and the tourists on Chestnut and the hipsters on Second and the two guys on Girard yelling at Alicia across the street to “Get your ass off the corner, girl!” I realized that I was that guy, the one running past you on the sidewalk with snot smeared across his tight sport-tec jacket, eyes swollen with exhaustion, that dude bounding past you while you sit there and try to remember the last time you exercised—the kind of guy I used to dodge as I walked my dog and thought, “Go find a track. Douche.” I was that lone runner, running in places where no one else was running, because I must like to run or show people how I like to run and run far and run all over the place because I just can’t stop running and I run everywhere. I don’t. I’m not. But as I came to my finish line outside the Bishop’s Collar on Fairmount Avenue (it’s amazing how all routes seem to end there), I stopped after having kept my legs moving for the longest continuous amount of time in my thirty-five years, and I breathed deep and let out a loud “F-you, fifteen!” Nearby, an old man was walking his dog. He didn’t look at me. But I know what he was thinking.

PARIS UPDATE

If you have been following the French news, you will see that those of you who were planning on wearing an Islamic face veil to hide from the embarrassment of running a nine hour marathon, well, you are out of luck (I wonder if anyone will run in a veil in protest). You should have recently received your monthly update from the Paris marathon—or dig it out of your spam folder, it’s a good read. I’m hoping that the shaky translations from French to English are not indicative of the overall organization of the race—see “Our runners friends and their families are always welcome but our wish is to welcome moreover, all the children who want to run on route that the champions will go through the next day! Between 2 km or 5km, in the choice.” Or “Discover Bultex, the material of the sleep.” (I can’t resist cheap FR/EN chuckles – it’s not like they won’t be laughing at my French!) This breakfast run is interesting if anyone is traveling with family who would like to try to do a short run the day before and experience some of the route. Check it out HERE. But the highlight of the newsletter and the new route map: SPONGES! Every 5km, sponges! What this means, or what I am to do with a sponge (Sop up my tears? Wear it like a beret? Practice responsible family planning?), I’m not sure, but at this mind-quieting distance, a sponge qualifies as something to look forward to.

Speaking of things to look forward to, thanks to Mike for this idea (or blame to Mike for this homework assignment): Between now and Paris, I’m hoping that each of the Paris twelve and/or their friends, families, or followers of this blog might post some information about and photos of the sites we will be passing during our run (just ripping stuff from Wikipedia is totally acceptable for this task). This might help some of us get reinvigorated about what we are going to have the chance to do in three months, and it might give us something to distract ourselves from what we are doing as we plod through Paris (Hey, we aren’t all just running in a 26 mile circle for a t-shirt; We’re 37,000 hurried tourists looking for the Louvre!). I’ve looked at the route, and it might be great to get some more information about the following locations that we will be seeing should we be able to pick our heads up long enough (and forgive the spelling, I’m taking these off a blurry course map):

The Arc de Triomphe

The Champs Elysses

Place de la Concorde

Musee de Louvre

Hotel de Ville

Place de la Bastille

Chateau de Vincennes

Cahedrale Notre Dame

Musee d’Orsay

Tour Eiffel

Grand Palais

Trocadero

74 days and counting! Plans for the post-race party are well underway, as are the specifics of a send-off soirée. Fifteen more miles this weekend—anyone want to see Philadelphia? Like, all of it?

Some New Year Thoughts

2010-01-12T17:08:00.000-08:00

First of all, Congrats to Tom and Allyson. What a beautiful picture and a beautiful baby girl. Now we’re the Paris 12 and ½.

Second, I wanted to throw a personal note thanks out to Tom. I’m really enjoying this whole experience. In fact, whilst running today, I tried to think of some ideas for your next book (in keeping with the flavor of this adventure).

- “Freak! From Suburbia to the Circus” - A group of 12 sedentary people see if they have what it takes to become a member of a traveling circus sideshow. Follow their zany adventures as they take on sword swallowing, fire eating, and getting a cannon shot into their stomachs!”

- “31 Flavors of Pain!” – A group of 12 ordinary citizens stand around in a circle and trade kicks in the crotch until only one is left standing. Journey with them into the heart of darkness.

- “Torture….HO!” – As sleeping on a bed of nails, fire walking, and Ethiopian lip plates become more fashionable, watch how a group of 12 regular Americans come to love the pleasure/pain that comes with these wacky forms of self mutilation.

Just some thoughts. Please let me know if you decide to use any of these ideas as I would like a slice of the royalties.

Third, I’d like to state right here and now for the record, the following resolutions:

1. That I will NEVER miss another run, from here until Paris. Lowell is my sovereign lord and liege and I will obey all dictates and commands.

2. I will provide weekly updates on the blog for all to see on both my running and my weight loss. Embarrassment works well for me as a form of motivation. I need to drop some lbs and keep the running up or I’m dead in the water. Expect my first update this Friday.

3. That I plan to give Tom a "Code Red" at some point in 2010. If anyone is down with that, I’m thinking about beating him with a bar of soap in a tube sock. Hit me up if you’d like to participate.

Also, Kim and I would like to host a Country Run at some point in February (get you city folks out of the city for a day). How does Sunday, Feb 21st look for everyone? I’m thinking we’ll do a group run, and then come back to the house for a breakfast/brunch. Let me know if this works for you and we’ll lock it down.

Yours in mindless pain,

Mike

My not-running excuse is better than your not-running excuse

2010-01-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year to everyone, and thank you for all the kind words and well wishes for our latest member of the running team, Margaret (Maggie) Frances Coyne, born Christmas Eve. She was an early surprise (whispering to Allyson's belly about tax deductions seemed to do the trick), but she arrived healthy and well at six pounds, eleven ounces, and Mom and Maggie are doing great. And her big brother hasn't even tried to eat her yet (though he seems to be contemplating the reprocussions of doing so in this picture). While she has been slacking off in the running department (she's a marathoner of day-sleeping), that certainly makes her no different than her dad.
Maggie has been the best reason to not run I could have ever asked for, but as the holidays end and the calendar turns and life regains some sense of normalcy, it seems time to return to that former routine of right, left, right. As we approach the three month mark to Paris (wow, that's what pure terror feels like) it is time to recommit to our running ways, and not let all that progress we were making fly off on the bitter January breeze. I recall running on a warm September morning when we talked of the approaching cold with hopeful and welcoming tones, convinced that running in the chill would be far more enjoyable than sweating in the humidity and haze. What a bunch of crap that was. Getting out there in the freeze is going to be our biggest challenge yet, but this is where we are--the cold and crap times. Think April as you go. And let's get together soon and put an end to the excuses that recently seemed as abundant as Christmas cheer. In case you thought you were the only one lying about your mileages, allow me to offer a recent excerpt from an email exchange between anonymous members of our (non)running squad:

Runner A:
it was 4 degrees last week, and i didn't even pretend like i was going to go. And then it was snowing and then i just didn't want to. and then i was hungover. and then i wasn't hungover but didn't want to spend 2 hours running around like a moron. maybe this week i'll run again. Nice work on 8 miles!

Runner B:
8 is lame compared to these running freaks Tom has conspired to surround us with. I'm beginning to suspect something fishy is going on, people seem to be regularly putting double digit miles on the clock, signing up for every opportunity to get a free t-shirt and run 5k at 4am on a weekend morning. It's like an episode of Stepford Wives, with a running theme.

Runner A:
That is a t-shirt just waiting to be made. 11 stepford wives in running gear and tom coyne leading them.

Let's get back at it, freaks. Maggie's cooperation provided, I would love to get together for a group run this weekend--Sunday looks like it's getting all the way up to 30 degrees! And I think we need a race to get re-focused here. On January 16th, the Winter Pickle Run is being held at Ridley Creek State Park. It's a 4.3 mile prediction race where you try to guess your finish time (no, Julian, you can't guess it in days). You also hunt for hidden pickles along the race route. And there's a t-shirt! Click the pickle to register.

Layer up. See you Sunday?

2009-12-22T09:52:00.001-08:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Virginia is for Plodders

2009-12-17T08:07:00.000-08:00

Wanting to try my feet at thirteen miles before the holidays and fatherhood put a freeze on my traveling options, I recently headed down to Fredericksburg, Virginia to run the Blue & Gray Half Marathon. After viewing some of the footage shot by my lovely sidekick (who is celebrating her birthday today), I have begun to wonder if "run" is actually what I did. (And no, none of this footage is in slow motion.) In my defense, this first clip is from the halfway point where I was beginning to knock on the runner's wall--I had just slopped my way up a muddy hill, and I found myself at a part in the course where we were doing a loop around the athletic fields at some bucolic college that just looked like a bunch of puddles to me, and I could glimpse the miles ahead all crowded with women and children tiptoeing through the rain, bounding with joy into the distance. And this second clip at the race's end (none of this footage is particularly exciting, but what the hell, the blog needed some love) bears witness to the following facts: I did finish; it rained the entire f$%#ing time; I am still kind of fat; and I am sooooooooo sloooooooow. But running my life's longest distance in 34 degrees and pouring rain (notice that I'm the only one running without gloves--no, those aren't latex gloves, those are two frozen lumps of bloodless flesh stuck to the end of my forearms), and that I didn't technically walk a step of it feels like accomplishment enough, pace and place be damned (I actually had a decent personal pace going until the last two miles, all uphill, where my shuffle-stride had me nearly running in place -- I looked like I was busting a move instead of trying to move my body forward). Highlights of the race: A medal; Gatorade at water stations; Michelob truck at the finish line (my legs miraculously burst into a sprint at the finish as I bowled over spectators and elbowed my way through a sea of goobers waiting in line for their free banana, and I found myself standing before said truck where I made a cup of Ultra disappear like there was a hole in it). Lowlights of the race: Everything else. The notion that I would turn around and go run that race distance again is comical--nay, tragic--but thirteen felt that way not very long ago. As for running, it isn't getting easier, and I can't clearly articulate what I'm getting out of it. But as I sat (yes, sat) in the shower after the race, still clutching that cup and and feeling my fingers tingle back to life, I felt good. I felt really, really good. And how that happened at the end of a rainy, frozen morning that began and ended with me plodding my way through a strip mall parking lot, I'm not entirely sure.

Is it December already? My running year in review.

2009-12-16T19:42:00.000-08:00

It doesn’t seem so long ago that I was sitting in Tom Coyne’s back garden talking about ideas for his next writing project. TC was doing the best he could to keep mum about the irons he had in the fire, but a very amused Allyson Coyne did the best she could to hold back the tears of laughter as she asked if I’d ever gone running before?

Oh how things have changed. Oh how I like Tom so much less.

A team of two, on a team of twelve.

My first team meeting didn’t take place with Tom and the team on Kelly Drive, but on the couch in my house in South Philadelphia. The minutes of the meeting between Dani and I are shown below.

Dani and I tackle problems very differently. Dani takes the "plan meticulously and execute with military precision" approach. I take the “Who needs instructions? Let’s just start and figure it out as we go along” approach. They clearly both have their merits. I was responsible for taking the meeting notes and began with what seemed to be the most important rule; we should have fun. The observant among you will also note that this was crossed out. What you can’t see is the 2-hour argument that followed about the need to take this whole marathon thing seriously. Eventually we regrouped, dug deep and honestly examined our character strengths and weaknesses, and came up with the additional six rules. Rule number one was also reinstated after a tantrum of epic proportions by one of the two meeting attendees. I shall protect their identity and allow them to remain nameless. For the record, Rule number 6 has long since been thrown out of the window, and Rule 4 is the rule most frequently invoked.

Tales of the Unexpected

Entering this running world, I anticipated changes both good and bad. I expected aches and pains, but somehow failed to expect the aches and pains that I actually got. Some of the other notable changes include:

1. The inability to order a sandwich at Wawa.

The first time I tried was like using an entirely new computer operating system. I was familiar with the machine, but it kept offering me the usual delicious choices of meatball subs, Italian hoagies, and Chicken Parmesan. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find how to order a sandwich, made with wheat bread (as per Dr. Bob and Tom’s nutritionist's instructions). Even when I did find it, the automated sandwich selector kept on trying to make it less healthy – would you like oil or mayo, bacon, extra meat, half a pound of cheese, hot sauce? All great ideas, but none of them are on my diet sheet.

2. The hijack of my Internet?

There was a time when I’d be embracing the World Wide Web, only to be distracted by pop up images and banners showing me new gadgets or electronic items that I didn’t know I wanted or t-shirts with the latest ironic statement about a d-list or recently dead celebrity. After buying a pair of trainers online, mapping my run (long since abandoned), and reading the roadmap from couch to 5k, everything has now changed. Now the edges of my internet browser seem to be filled with pictures of a sweaty Lance Armstrong, thin people running into dramatic sunsets, or gallon jugs of powder that offer me boosts of stamina and energy (and probably an asterisk next to my finish time).

3. Misery loves company.

One of the associated benefits of embarking on this project was going to be the opportunity to reintroduce myself to the long lost tracks on my iPod. Music that had been buried below latest releases would resurface and help drive me toward the finish line. The artist or song didn’t matter as much as the tempo and rhythm. It would be the playlist that I’d never even considered creating – all upbeat, all the time, like a metronome producing a rhythm to run by. Weeks 1 through 4 followed the plan, but as I began to spiral mentally downward my feet began to dance a shuffle and not the tango I’d hoped for. The musical story of a relationship meltdown by Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson quickly replaced the upbeat pop and rock I started out with and I became much happier knowing that someone else is miserable too.

4. Accepting the unexpected.

There has to be an upside right? Running is still strange to me, a very isolated and anti-social activity. Even when running with someone (or behind Dani – partly due to athletic ability, partly due to the view) you tend to be very alone. Still nobody smiles or waves, but I’ve realised that they will if you smile and wave hard enough at them. There have been precisely 2½ instances of running on auto-pilot where my legs just seemed to be doing their thing and I felt good. I’ve lost some weight and my lungs feel strong. I also think that this 26.2 mile thing is doable. I’m looking forward to the Christmas and New Year break from running – my coach insisted.

2009-11-30T11:26:00.001-08:00

This t-shirt thing is addicting. Here's a chance to earn another cool one this weekend -- click on the Reindeer, then on the online registration button to register for this 5k for a good cause. This is also a chance to run with some of the guys from Back on My Feet, an organization that I have recently become involved with. Back on My Feet uses running to promote confidence, self-esteem, and self-sufficiency among the homeless population here in Philadelphia. I've only been running with BOMF for a few weeks, but I can already attest to the fact that they make miracles happen--my getting out of bed to run with the group at 5am is nothing short of one. I'll write more about them later, but Saturday is a chance to see some of the runners in action...

Thankful for...iPods...ice packs...Body Glide...GU...

2009-11-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving, a few of us will begin our Thursday with a strange new holiday tradition. Where Thanksgiving mornings were once a time for football games, foggy heads, and crowded sofas, a number of the Paris 12 will be waking early, lacing up their sneakers, and going for a five mile run--not a precedent shattering distance, and not significant in comparison to some of our recent personal bests (well done, Fred, showing the half-marathon who's boss), but it's a gesture that seems like evidence that some of us are taking to running and, dare I say, might even be thankful for it. Maybe. I still feel like one who runs, and not even close to calling myself runner, one of those speedy bounders who don't slobber or wheeze or wince when they are passed by a woman jogging with her Maltese (had one pass me just last night). The gulf between our world and the runner's world might yet be a yawning one, but let's remember that we all started at zero miles three months ago, and some of us are now running six, seven, or twelve miles in one clip without need of medical assistance. The marathon might still feel ridiculous, but so did five miles once. So let's be thankful for our progress, and remain open-minded to the absurdity that is 26.2.

Welcome home to Cristin, recently back from Dubai, and congratulations on your nuptuals! Happy birthday to Joe! Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Ice, ice baby.

2009-11-03T06:00:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday I finally was able to see my doctor after getting checked out initially two months ago, ordered to do x-rays and an MRI, and the standard cancellations, rescheduling and organizational chaos that seem central to trying to get anything done in this region. After all that, I don't know if I am much clearer on what is going on with my knee. It appears to be an overuse injury (duh?). My doctor said there was patellar pressure. He didn't mention any conditions that have become familiar to me after all my obsessive online research so I'm still a bit mystified. He did however make me feel like a complete idiot for trying to train for a marathon. The exact flow of the conversation is now lost to me but I can share with you some highlights of his pep talk:

-why would I want to do this? (he asked this about 4 times)
-a marathon is a completely unhealthy and unnatural thing to do to your body
-the first person to ever run a marathon died right after finishing
-he has treated a man who ran 2-3 marathons and now cannot walk properly
-I could give myself arthritis later in life by training for a marathon
-it would take a year to be ready
-basically I will never be ready by April
-why don't I just go swimming?

Awesome. He should write for the New York Times. Maybe it doesn't sound that bad, but to me it was a bit devastating. I was hoping to finally find out what is wrong and be told how to stay healthy and keep going. Instead, I felt totally confused and disheartened. I knew I'd have to explain myself to some people as to why I'd want to do this. I just didn't plan on a doctor having such a completely negative reaction.

My knee has been manageable for the past few weeks. By manageable I mean icing it 3-4 times a day and ignoring its existence for the first 5-10 minutes of each run. My bag of frozen peas is my best friend these days. I am just about up to running 4 miles straight. I know you are all well past that but I hope I can catch up eventually! As long as it doesn't get worse I think I can keep going. Kneeling during my wedding ceremony will be interesting though! My hometown of Westfield, NJ hosts a 5-mile "Turkey Trot" every Thanksgiving. I'm going to give it a shot. I feel like my running is about as graceful as a turkey so it seems fitting that this will be my first race.

I thought the hardest part of this project would be sticking to the plan and putting in the time and effort. I thought that once I decided to go through with it, my body would just comply and deal with the punishment. But navigating the minefield of running injuries has become my greatest challenge. I just want my knee to stop bugging me and let me get on with it! My fear of it keeping me back is just about equal to my fear of actually having to run for 5 hours.

On a happier note, my wedding is coming up in about 2 weeks. I'm looking forward to being home in a week and experiencing my first run outside (that isn't preceded by crazy Dubai drivers nearly running me over). And I hope I will be able to finally meet and go for a run with my fellow teammates! I will be in Philly November 27-28. I'd love to get together the morning of the 28th. Hope to see you then!

2009-11-02T05:27:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to those who "Ran the Bridge" yesterday. Great job. And a big thank you to Fred for eating raisins after his race. I have been trying to get my kids to eat raisins for years. I keep putting them in their school snacks, and finding the unopened boxes in their lunch boxes after school. Until yesterday, that is. In the car on the way home from the run, Katie was plowing through her second box of raisins. I asked her why the sudden change and she replied, "If Fred likes raisins, I like raisins."

My response to NYT Article

2009-10-29T11:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, I suppose I see the point of the "runners". If running is your profession, I can see how allowing a gaggle of neophytes into your playground could ruffle your feathers.

However, I find it difficult to sympathize for a variety of reasons.

First off, those elite runners (henceforth we'll call them "Lowells" for the sake of brevity)who compete in the marathon are given special priveleges above and beyond the normal entrant. They are sponsored, catered to, put in the front of the line, interviewed after the run, and carted off to a four star hotel before Johnny Waddlecheeks has even passed the halfway point.
It may be a professional sport, but the professional aspect comes from sponsors, not people paying good money for tickets to watch people complete this ridiculous task. For example, it's not like the NFL is having problems with packs of gangly Kenyan marathoners trying to suit up for gameday (actually, i'd pay money to see that!). Reason: it's not open to the public. There is a guantlet of challenges that tests a person's ability to play at a professional level in football. Anyone can get up one morning and decide to start training for a marathon. And since marathons ARE open to the public, anyone can enter one. Whether or not you're going to get paid to do it basically comes down to natural ability - which brings me to my third point...
I look at these guys who run marathons professionally and I say to myself, these guys are doing what they're born to do. Yes, it is a feat to be able to shoot for a world record for a marathon. But for some strange reason, I'm not that impressed. I think it's hard for the average "Lowell" to appreciate what a daunting task running a marathon is for the average person. Sometimes when I'm out there running, I actually starting thinking of the things that I would rather be doing (i.e. pulling my fingernails out with a pair of pliers, getting a root canal, etc). For this guy (pictured) running a marathon is literally a walk in the park. For me, it really is like climbing Mount Everest. He's probably 110 lbs soaking wet, lean, long and built for endurance. I was 110lbs in 5th grade. I am large framed, knocked kneed, heavy boned and have the metabolic rate of a hibernating grizzly bear. So I ask you? Who is accomplishing the greater feat in running the marathon?

So bottom line: The NYT can shove it.

That's my take.

Mike

As if running a marathon wasn't hard enough...

2009-10-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

...it turns out that some people don't want you to attempt it! I was glad to see this article inspired over four hundred responses on NYT.com, almost all in defense of people who would attempt a marathon at any pace (my favorite rebuttal takes a shot at the smug track coach). Screaming knees, swollen shins, aching brains, raw undercarriages--and we're up against running snobs, too? I don't know if this makes me want to run faster, or take my sweet damn time. Thoughts?

Falling off the wagon

2009-10-24T06:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I completely fell off the running wagon for the last few weeks, logging only 10.5 miles out of a total 19 miles. Needless to say, after missing so many workouts, I felt a bit...loose

I have no real excuse, other than the following excellent excuses:

1. The weather was crappy

2. I was travelling a lot for work

3. My couch called me with it's sweet siren song and I was unable to resist.

Dani, I too have felt the running high, only to be bitch smacked by a running low unlike any I've ever felt. A few Sunday's ago, I ran my first 5 miles and was jamming. Aches and pains minimal, stride smooth and delibrate, and mental state strong. The next time I went running, I was expecting the same thing only to have the polar opposite happen. Dejection does not adequately describe how I felt when I walked in the door.

However, I pushed through it, and even though I was out on the West Coast for business all week, I managed to get out and get my groove on again. Onwards.

Tom, I've been thinking about your request for book names. Whilst running today, I found myself asking once again, "why the hell am I doing this", to which I replied to myself, "because it's there", to which I began thinking about the first person to utter those words, Sir Edmund Hillary, when asked about why was he climbing Mt Everest. To which I began to think about Tom's thesis. When I got home, I looked up "sedentary", and then came to this realization: maybe so many people are doing marathons because to the "sedentary" 26.2 miles might as well be Mt Everest. Only this Everest, you don't need piles of cash, a plane ride to Nepal, burly mountain guides, oxygen tanks, and major cold weather gear. All you really need is a pair of sneakers and the will to step out of your front door and start training. So maybe try to incorporate Everest into the title. Some ideas: Asphalt Everest, Everyman's Everest, Our Everest. Just a thought.

Anyway, I'm all signed up for the Bridge run. I'm looking forward to it.

And eventually, perhaps we should discuss as a group, the elephant in the room.

Mike

Wohoo! The runners high..

2009-10-18T18:44:00.000-07:00

Usually I would use this blog to rant and rave about stupid running!
But today I have to report a little personal success...my first ever "RUNNERS HIGH"...at least I think this was it..
After having a great morning at the horse barn (sorry I couldn't be there for the group run..) I decided to put on my winter running clothes, which by the way are not quite figured out yet, I forced myself to go for my run. I drove out to the Wissahickon drive, since running in the streets of Philadelphia gets really old.. I have to admit I was a bit scared to go by myself, but then I thought: if I get abducted or kidnapped at least I don't have to keep on running.

So I set out in the cold...
I ran for 6 miles with only 6min walking spread throughout..and I think I experienced my first runners high! I know 6miles is not a lot for most of you guys, but for me it is pretty unbelievable.

When I started some 2+ month ago with 60sec running, 90sec walking, I honestly thought it is complete BS what people say about: "The first 10min are always hard, but then you get into a rhythm and it will get easier"
Well...proven wrong.

I anticipate continuous stuggles and some hate mixed in and still can't wrap my head around running for 5 hrs, but it feels so good to at least once in a while have a good time doing the impossible

Get your race on

2009-10-12T11:22:00.001-07:00

Some of us felt the thrill of crossing the finish line (and some of us felt the sting of being lapped by one of our freshman) at the Kristin's Krusade 5k at St. Joseph's University last weekend. As Mike so eloquently blogged, there is something about running a real race that makes this whole right-left-right endeavor feel slightly less absurd, like it's almost a real sport or something. Getting involved in more short races will not only fill out our wardrobe with hard-earned t-shirts and keep our bellies full of free bananas, but racing might suck some of the anguish out of all this torture by trotting.

First, I've signed up for RUN THE BRIDGE on November 1st--a 10k run over the Ben Franklin Bridge--and you should, too. I expect my fear of heights (and my fear of Camden) to keep me moving at a record clip. Then on November 15th, I hope you can join me for the SCHUYKILL RIVER LOOP RUN, an eight mile race beginning at Boathouse Row (also Philadelphia's oldest road race. And though it's now closed, come on out on the 22nd as I watch Fred speed off into the distance at the Philadelphia Half-Marathon. Seeing the shapes and sizes that endeavor to marathon might give us all a little hope.

My first blog ever

2009-10-08T08:38:00.000-07:00

Hi all. I finally broke down and got the Forerunner. I find that it was easier running without it, as I am now constantly looking down at my mileage and saying 3 ****ing miles left??!! What's that saying-ignorance is bliss?

After reading Mike's ever so eloquent blog I figured I should start thinking of a reason to finish this race. There is always the cancer route. The idea that finishing the race would prove me victorious in my battle against breast cancer. But that's too sappy. And I always said to myself that I wouldn't let that stupid disease define me.

Then there is the "I want to challenge myself" approach. Been there, done that. I found strength I never knew I had last year. I was challenged physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I know I'm strong enough. The question is will my knees hold up?

Mike's thoughts on being a hero to Ben are great, but I am not feeling that for myself. I feel that my kids will love and respect me not because of what I do and who I am, but despite it.

So where does this leave me in terms of reasons to finish this stinkin race? I have come up with only one answer. Bragging rights.

My first real race

2009-09-30T10:13:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

Quick update on the Gerardi's. This past weekend, Kim and I completed the McGuire Mud Run. Essentially, this was a 6.2 mile run with many large muddy obstacles placed in the way, much in the style of a military obstacle course (think "Stripes" or "Full Metal Jacket"). Our team name was "The Beavers" and we represented the Paris 12 with honor and distinction.

The picture shows us about to cross the finish line. We were wearing black, so the picture does not do justice to how disgustingly dirty we really were (note: the sleeves of the shirt I wore under my black t-shirt were white when I started the race). For pure entertainment, check out the pictures on the website to see some of the obstacles we had to go through.

Our 7-year old son Ben (front and center), jumped in and ran the last mile with us after cheering us on through our final muddy obstacle (the crawl through mud under the simulated barb wire).

While Kim has competed in running races in the high school as a cross country runner, this was a first for me. It took a while for it all to sink in, but it was really a great feeling to finish. I think more than anything it was the genuine excitement that Ben showed towards us when we were finishing the race. He just kept coming up to us and hugging us and telling us he loved us. Perhaps it was just the novelty of seeing your mom and dad crawl through the mud that he was so excited about. But for me it was something more. He was proud of us. It's hard to verbalize, but as the father of a young boy, you look for opportunities to be, for lack of a better word, a hero. The concept of sacrafice and grinding it out to provide for your family doesn't really sink in as "heroic" for a boy until they become a father themselves (at least, it didn't for me).

My job is massively boring to the mind of my son (hell, it's massively boring to me sometimes too). I sell financial and operational systems software to large companies. I once had to do a presentation to his class on career day. I've presented to CEO's and CFO's of Fortune 500 companies under the most intense pressure you can imagine, but I was more nerved up for this presentation than anything I've ever felt. I eventually had to bring a Power Ranger into the conversation to explain to the kids that a company sells this Power Ranger, and it costs money to make the Power Ranger, and you have to use computers to track the costs and money that you make and blah, blah, blah....Regardless, I think I lost them after I put down the Power Ranger...

The point I'm dancing around is in the act of letting myself go over the past 10 years, it kills me to think I might have put myself into a negative light in my son's eyes. That's not to say I don't include my two daughters in that equation as well, but it's different dynamic for a father and son. He's looking at my actions for examples on how to be a man.

So mark this down as one more reason I'm going to finish this marathon: I want my boy to be proud of me.

Mike

Snap, crackle, pop!

2009-09-21T09:06:00.001-07:00

Greetings from Istanbul!

I hope this works since my blog settings are now in Turkish. Bob and I are in Turkey for 5 days, celebrating the end of Ramadan and taking advantage of some time off to get a change of scenery. I am taking a break from wandering the city and wanted to report that Bob and I are officially registered for the marathon! Woo hoo! Whether or not I will finish it is another story... I've been having a really rough time lately. My knees have staged a massive coup and I have had to stop running for the past two weeks or so. I have been reading a lot about running-related knee ailments and it is so disheartening that I have had to cut myself off. There's only so much I can read about patella mis-tracking. Ugh. So, the title of my post is in reference to how my knees, particularly my left, feel. I have an appointment with an orthopedic doctor in about a week and a half and hopefully I will be back on track soon. Apparently every doctor in my insurance network takes this month off. I would have thought I'd be relieved to get a break from running, but I've been really frustrated by having to stop! I was really getting into it and was starting to see some progress. Since this whole knee ordeal started a month ago, I have purchased every kind of knee strap and brace in the middle east, tried over-priced over-the-counter orthotics, and even ventured to a super-creepy orthopedic "clinic" in old Dubai that had an available appointment. There I was told I am basically an anatomical perfect storm: knock-kneed, flat-footed, and weak. I've never worked so hard just to be able to do something that is such hard work! I feel a bit disconnected from the group. So, if anyone has had (or is corrently having) similar problems, I'd love some advice! It can't be as hopeless as runnersworld.com etc. is making me feel!

So, that's where I'm at for the moment. I wish it could be more on the positive side! I hope you are all doing well. I must now get back to eating Turkish delight. It really is delightful! And addictive. I'm starting to wonder what the white powder it is coated in really is.

Kristin's Krusade 5K, Sunday 10/4

2009-09-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

Time to show off the results of your hard labor to the world, or at least to a few people at the track at St. Joe's. Some of you are not quite up to 5K, some of you are well past it, but it's a walk/run and will give us a chance to experience an organized race. And it's for a good cause, check it out here. If enough people want to do this, I'll sign us up as a group. (Fred, I think you can win this. Free pancakes if you do.)

My pain has a name and it is Tom Coyne

2009-09-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

Hello to all. Good news! I’ve moved past the “holy crap, 26 miles is going to be impossible” to the “maybe, just maybe, I can do this” mindset.

I’m feeling good when I run now. Big props go out to Lowell for the coaching. My knee was absolutely killing me which was causing me to run like a shopping cart with a bum wheel. I would be steady for a bit, and then the wheel would start wobbling and throw everything out of whack. The simple of act of brisk walking for a mile before I start my run has changed everything.

Whilst running the other day, I came to the realization that the problem with my knee in the past and the present is irrevocably linked to our fearless leader, Tom Coyne.

The Present is simple: there is a 99.9% chance that I wouldn’t be running like this if it weren’t for the gauntlet of the marathon.

The Past: 1987, Saint Mary Magdalene. I was in 7th grade. A young, freckled and obscenely pale Tommy Coyne was in 6th. The boys in our grades would often play a recess game against each other called “Kill”. The object was simple: the entire playground was the field, and one team tried the keep the ball away from the other. To get the ball for your team, you would tackle, pile on, maul, and generally “kill” the person on the other team who currently had the ball. Pretty cut and dry. And so it was, that during one of these games, I had the ball and the 6th graders were giving chase. Leading the pack was a young Filipino named Mark Victoria (later nicknamed “the Sniper” in high school football because of his speed). Following close behind him was Tommy. They were closing fast, and I had two choices: pass the ball to a teammate or plant and turn back into them and attempt to break the rush. I chose the latter. Mark went low, Tom went high, and my knee went “POP!” (official medical term: dislocated patella. Laymans definition: my knee got douched). As I lay on the ground, choking on dust and squirming in pain, I heard a “yeah baby!” and saw a kid with a flash of bushy red hair giving a high five to a stout brown skinned lad. My knee swelled up to the size of a grapefruit and was never the same after that. Once I picked up football in high school, it popped out at least 5x per season. So, thanks for that Tom!

On the weight loss front, I’m down 20 lbs since my fitness evaluation (284 to 264). That may sound like a lot, but for me it’s just moved the needle from “morbidly obese” to “fatty boombalatty”. I’m charging hard towards my goal of losing 70lbs. I recently just started a “cleanse” http://www.drnatura.com/ (fyi – do NOT click on the pictures if you do not have a strong stomach…pretty nasty stuff). I’ll keep you posted on the progress, but a few of my friends have done this and swear by it.

That’s pretty much it for now. Sorry we missed the run on Sunday. I could make up some lame excuse, but the truth is that I was hung over from the Phils/Mets game the night before. We’ll be there this weekend.

"I am the tortoise!"

2009-09-07T06:04:00.000-07:00

An update from an elusive member of the Paris Twelve...

"Let the games begin...

No I do not mean the Notre Dame football season(here's an apprehensive "Go Irish!!"). By games I refer to the fact-yes, fact- that the long-procrastinating, sloth-like, ever elusive Brian J. Duffy has begun training for the 2010 Paris Marathon(and beyond, more on that later)!! On Thursday, under the cover of darkness on an unlit Springfield Township Middle School track, I ran more than the distance between my seat at the Eagles games and the men's room for the first time in more that 10 years. Given the current shape of my body and the various aches and pains I had going in, I knew I would have to start out slowly, and that I did, more slowly than I once thought possible. The pre-run stretch was an early indicator. Never very flexible in my running days 20 years ago, I can only guess how laughable I must have looked straining to reach mid calf when trying to touch my toes. When I got to the track, I briefly thought back to my half-miler days, and all of the track "work" I used to do with relative ease. Back when I was 185 and lean, I could circle that track two times in almost two minutes. Twenty-five years later, I was reduced to a shuffle. I shuffled around once, twice, three times, then decided to walk a bit-a half lap- then began again. Another two laps, and walk, another lap, and.... It was time to stop. I suddenly realized that I was alone in the dark after 10 o'clock, not sure if I had told my wife where I was going or what to do if I was not back in an hour. It was not the heavy track work I used to be able to do, the 10x four hundred meter sprint training days from way back when, but I knew it was safely enough for the first time in a long time.

Friday, I met with Bob Bair down at Riddle. The numbers paint an ugly picture, which only means there is much to improve on. I am now a 42 year old male, 75 and one quarter inches, 271 pounds(oh, my!). My standing heart rate is good, blood pressure is good(thanks mom and dad), VO2Max is fair, flexibility is average(i can't believe that), and my bench press was good. My body fat was 25%, and Bob explained I should be down to 10% when I get in marathon shape(can't we do something about that right away?). My lean body mass was 2.9, when I should get to 5.1. Is this all TMI? The most important thing I learned with Bob was the caloric intake data he provided based on all of my body data. I hope to team this take-away up with what the nutritionist can provide to begin a more healthy and regimented diet program. The body was not designed to transport 270 for 26, that much I know.

Today, Saturday, I ran my second run on the boardwalk in OC. Was able to get in two miles without stopping, but it was a slow two miles. Hermit crabs were sliding across the boards faster than I was. And the boards didn't appear to be jumping up and tripping them the way they were for me. Shuffling, I am afraid, leads to face plants. Didn't quite stumble that badly, but almost. Women running with jogging strollers were blowing by and soon disappearing on the horizon. I suspect this will be the first of many humbling experiences over the next eight months. But it is a start.

I am thinking about getting a t-shirt that says, "I am the tortoise!"

Look forward to seeing you all next week.

Duff(Brian, but everybody calls me Duff)"

Dances with Gorillas

2009-09-02T11:53:00.000-07:00

My transformation into wannabe runner must be underway--Runner's World has replaced The New Yorker as the magazine I don't read but still leave out on the ottoman to impress guests. I did, however, pick up this month's Runner's World out of the mail pile, and I learned of a race that might help some of us with one of the issues we've been struggling with during our training--namely, that running is just about no damn fun. This might be. I'm up for an Albany road trip on October 25th if anyone else is. I'll pay for gas, you bring the bananas.

Not in the club.

2009-08-27T13:24:00.000-07:00

If you’ve never driven a Mini Cooper, a motorcycle or (in England) a pre 1985 Land Rover, I suggest you do so. You’ll suddenly find people nodding their heads, flashing their lights and honking their horn at you in a bizarre form of camaraderie. You didn’t do anything special, no real effort was needed, but you are welcomed into a club of like-minded enthusiasts. I hoped that running would be the same.

I’ve been running during my lunch hour in the Huntingdon Valley suburbs, along the New Jersey Boardwalk, along Kelly Drive, and have now crossed paths with many doing the same thing. I think that I have demonstrated a willingness to cross the threshold and enter this world; I have my fancy shoes, particularly short shorts, and a shirt of the lightest and most breathable materials made by man. I am clearly taking this seriously, or at least trying to, but not a nod, wink, raised hand or slight acknowledgement from a single one of my running brethren. I’m disappointed and it makes me dislike runners a little more than I did before I joined the team. I understand that people are in their ‘zone’, but in my opinion it’s just a little bit rude. I’m interested to see if my opinion has changed by the end of the project, but in case you see a wheezy 6 ft Englishman running towards you on Kelly drive, nodding and waving as if possessed by a demon, please do not be alarmed, just nod or wave back.

ADDENDUM: I mentioned this to Dani, who informed me that six or seven people nodded or smiled at her as she ran along Kelly Drive on Saturday. Feeling that the running fraternity was anti-social and ignorant was one thing, but to know it is also sexist and a little bit pervy makes it worse.

Technology.

It seems that everyone is adopting technological aides to help them train. I noticed that Joe and Tom were both sporting fancy GPS enabled watches this weekend that tell them how far they’ve run and what they had for dinner. Knowing how far I’ve run will be quickly translated by the cognitive gremlins in my head into how far I still have to go. As such, I shall be giving the collaboration between Nike and Apple a trial. I have the chip inside the sole of my shoe, I just need to get the iPod to make it work. Apparently, of the four iPods in our house, zero are compatible with the Nike+ software that needs to be installed. I like the idea of the PowerSong feature that can give me “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor instantly at any time I need extra motivation.

Extra Motivation?

Eddie Izzard is one of my favorite comedians. For those who don’t know him I would definitely recommend adding one of his live shows to your Netflix queue. Apparently he’s a novice runner that decided to run around the UK and Ireland to raise money and awareness for charity. His blog is here. Apparently he’s averaging a Marathon a day! I’m not sure what the attraction of journeying around the edge of small European countries is, but I wonder if he read the book about that crazy American who played golf around Ireland?

Kick Asphalt. Shall We?

2009-08-26T06:57:00.001-07:00

After our soggy, wind-sucking 2.5 mile training run this Saturday, I'm sure everyone feels ready for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 22nd. Or maybe not. But along with the big marathon, there is a half-marathon and an 8k (5 mile) race going on as well (I believe there used to be a marathon relay, which would have been good for us, but they aren't offering it this year). I think we should all mark this on our calendars as our first benchmark on our way to Paris -- it will give us a chance to experience a race, run together, and get a really cool t-shirt. I'm going to try to get ready for the half-marathon, but I hope everyone by November will at least be up for the five-miler. This is also the morning after my sister-in-law Cristin's wedding, so though she will be home from Dubai, I doubt she will be making the five am drive back to Philadelphia with me for the race--though I think if we can get her to run in her veil, that would be very flickr worthy. Any takers? Don't wait too long to sign up, which you can do here.

Rocky Steps

2009-08-26T06:48:00.001-07:00

Rocky Steps
Originally uploaded by hilljulian

Some video from the end of our first day of training as a group. Considering Rocky only made it halfway on his first try, we're already ahead of the curve. Notice Fred running Mary Poppins style...

A hot and sandy 'salam' to you all!

2009-08-20T06:56:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone! This is my first time blogging as well. It took me about 20 minutes (and the help of an Arabic-speaking co-worker) to switch my Blogger menus from Arabic to English. But here I am! I'd like to report that this week I have done something I have never done before (besides run voluntarily). I woke up and went to the gym before work...TWICE. You'll understand how amazing that is when you see what awaits me once I sleepwalk my way to the gym. It's my new best friend: scary LifeFitness poster girl. For the next couple months, she and I will be seeing quite a lot of each other. Since the weather here is currently what I like to call "walking through boiling hot jello", I have to run indoors. The gym in our building complex is pretty nice but the views are a bit unfortunate. I am either staring at a sand-colored wall (because I don't get enough of that color) and the aforementioned poster. Or I am looking at people lounging around the lap pool. But I am soldiering on. I have been doing the run/walk thing and slowly but surely, I am increasing the length of time I run. It is now in the double-digits! Woo hoo! Sigh. Baby steps. Running IS really hard.

I've purchased some insanely overpriced running gear. So far I have abstained from buying the Commodore 2000-on-your-wrist running watch. Which is a very un-Dubai thing to do. They probably have a version here that's covered in gold or swarovski crystals. My fiance, Bob, and I hit the Saucony store for some new kicks. He is my ever-positive training buddy and will be running the marathon as well. The sales guy asked how long I usually run and I was so excited to say 3K. Just a week or so ago it was 0! I then saw the embarrassed shock on his face and I felt the overwhelming urge to run...out of the store. I have an appointment for a physical next week at the American Hospital. I felt this location was a safe bet. I didn't want the phrase "you cannot run a marathon" to be lost in translation. I'll let you know how that goes. I am anticipating blowing the infamous Tom Coyne body fat percentage out of the water.

Anyway, I hope you are all well. I'll be sad to miss out on the big kick-off this weekend. As you enjoy all that green scenery and fresh air, just think of me and the LifeFitness girl. I hope to be able to run with you guys in November when I'll be home for a couple of weeks. By that time, the scary poster and I will have parted ways and I'll be able to brag about the lovely temperate Dubai running weather. But then I'll be complaining about all the hidden construction ditches and lack of sidewalks. Ah well. I hope we do end up running the marathon in Paris. I read that they serve wine and cheese at the 30K mark. WINE! And CHEESE! Come on now people. Allons-y!!!

Some thoughts

2009-08-19T11:25:00.000-07:00

My first time blogging, so bear with me.

Running does indeed suck. It sucks out loud in the 90+ degree heat. I'm hoping that at some point I turn the corner and actually look forward to going for a run. Is it possible to turn that corner after being a lifelong run-hater? That’s question #1 for Mr. All American once we start our coaching sessions. I have gotten out about 3-4 times in the last few weeks. Nothing too fancy – a couple miles of 75% running, 25% walking. I would like to get it to at least every other day. Right ankle and both knees are feeling the heat, but I’m pushing through it. Two of our kids just got sick simultaneuously (fevers, barfing, and the whole sha-bang) so we've trailed off a little this past week.

I like that Garmin thing you have Tom. I'm going to get it soon. I find that most things in life are much more enjoyable if you are able to quantify them with numbers and metrics. The more numbers I have, the more I will try to improve those numbers. Yay technology!

Under Armor compression shorts rule. I like to call them "compression shorts" because it sounds much more manly than "spandex". Easy gliding, low resistance, the right kind of grab in the right spots. I have found however, that taking them off produces the exact opposite effect for a man as taking off a bathing suit after jumping in a cold pool. As Carl Spackler says, “…so I got that going for me…”. Too much, too soon? Ah well.

Kim and I have our appointment with Mr. Bair on Friday. I have found myself waking up at night with visions of him laughing me out of the office upon first seeing me.

Note to self: no more buying Oreo Double Stuffs “for the kids” anymore. If I have to eat organic, then damn it, so do they!

Running is Hard

2009-08-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

After 3 long weeks of "training" I'm a bit nervous that I still can't run 1 mile in a row. I've made some small lifestyle changes like getting up before noon and not smoking on my way to the gym. I've also discovered Aspercreme. I'm a bit frustrated with my lack of progress and thinking that I need to step this up a bit.

As for the Distance Run - I think Tom has COMPLETELY LOST HIS MIND. I can finally think about this whole endeavor without getting nauseous, and he's making bold and sudden movements. My goal was to run 3 miles without stopping by the end of September. 13miles? Really?

I guess the good news is that my boyfriend has generously agreed (if need be) to give me a good swift kick to the ribs that might make training impossible. Is anyone else struggling?

Anyone?

2009-08-19T08:23:00.001-07:00

This might be wildly ambitious, but the Philadelphia Distance Run is September 20th if anyone is interested. Upside, it's a Rock 'n Roll race with bands every couple miles, you get a cool medal. Downside, they don't let you take a golf cart. Not sure if I can get up to half-marathon speed in a month's time, but I could be persuaded to try...

See you Saturday for our first group run/walk/get-together. 9:30am, at the start of Boat House Row. Look for the group of slightly confused, slightly frightened people with the tags still on their running gear.

2009-08-18T19:55:00.000-07:00

Today I ran a few times around my block. Progress not perfection...at least not yet.
Tomorrow going to try to join people but may do it alone.
Looking forward to meeting everyone.

Oh the HEAT!

2009-08-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

ok, this is my first beef with this running thing...
Whoever had the idea to start training to RUN in the middle of August?? I won't mention any names, but...come on...
It is bad enough to not be able to breath during normal activities, like walking from the subway to work - emphasis on walking - when it is 93 degrees outside. But no...I have to go running and I have to do it in the heat...even at 8am this morning the air in the city was so thick, I felt like I was visiting Cristin in Dubai..

This weekend we had the perfect running scenario: we spent 3 days in Asbury Park and went jogging along the boardwalk. I tell you...perfect! Cool seabreeze, wooden planks under the feet and lots of other sporty types that give you motivation, as you don't want to look like a complete slob by stopping after every fifth step...
I think I learned that in the future I will either move to the beach or use an airconditioned treadmill.
Everybody seems to say to me that it will get easier. I really hope so. Although I have to admit that I do feel great after my run and a shower, but breathing does not come natural for me. And I am still doing about 28 minutes of a walk/run intervall. I decided to do the "couch to 5K" training scheule. It sounded sooo easy..:( I am curious to see if coach Lowell says this is BS.
I am excited for fall..and the cooler weather.. Can't believe I just said that. I love the summer..

Paper Kenyan

2009-08-18T06:04:00.000-07:00

I'm going to apologize in advance for all my grammatical abortions.

Last week I started to get serious about my upcoming training regiment. I started the week at Wholefoods buying organic fruits, vegetables, and pine nuts. I went home with a lighter wallet and the makings of a huge salad that lasted me 2 weeks.

I acquired some new running shoes from the upscale French department store, Target, and some !!!EXTREME!!! Under Armour spandex from Modells. As a male, I've been hearing the worst part of a marathon is chafing and bloody nipples so Astro-glide and Pasties may be next on my shopping list.

So just yesterday, I ran my first "session" of about 2 miles around Penns Landing with my new wife Katie. It has been really hot in Philly lately, but I'd rather sweat than freeze (can't wait for Winter runs). I almost cramped up before I got home and my legs were a bit sore today. Instead of my inner thigh's cursing at me, my armpits were the ones shouting obsenities. It made me think I should invent lubrication for armpits, maybe call it "Old Spice Glide" or something more catchy.

First one 4 me

2009-08-17T18:56:00.000-07:00

So here is my first stab at this. I really don't have much to say except I have only taken one run. I'll report back tomorrow after first am run!

Medically able to perform.

2009-08-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

I ventured to the Riddle Health Center in the ungodly early hours of Thursday morning. It was a small price to pay for what I expected to be an early, yet honorable discharge from Tom Coyne's band of merry men and women.

For 36 years, I've managed to avoid excellence in the pursuit of physical fitness. I played football (aka Soccer) for some excellent trophy winning teams growing up. The high standard of these teams, did little to improve my physical condition, in fact it worked squarely against it. As goalkeeper, I often spent 90 minutes picking daisies or leaning against a goalpost as my team spent the entire game in the opponents half, scoring at will. I then took up Cricket, which I played through school and University. As a game that is very foreign to US viewers, all that needs to be known is that the game can last between 2 hours and 5 days, but takes regular breaks for lunch, tea, drinks and rain (not uncommon in the North West of England). The sport didn't push me to the edge of physical perfection; I became better at playing cards, pool, and darts, and it was on the edge of a green pasture on the outskirts of Manchester, England, that I nurtured my love of sitting down with a beer, watching sport. Throw in some running about, walking from the golf cart to the beer girl, swimming at the shore, good intentions abandoned after day one of a new gym membership, and we have summed up my 36 year training program to date.

There was no way that any sane medical practitioner in the litigious State of Pennsylvania was going to sign off on letting me run a marathon. Tom gave us a number of different options, but if I wanted my vehicle to fail its inspection, I wasn't heading to the back street mechanic who's been putting lemons back on the road for years. I wanted the 200 point inspection and the cautious approach of an employee in a $1.2 bn organization that had more to lose. Bob Bair, Director of Fitness Services at The Riddle Health Center was going to be the guy that broke the news to me. After being poked, prodded, mocked and electrocuted (painlessly), I learned the following. I have the flexibility of an I-Beam, I have the physical range of someone 20 years older than me, and I'm not as fat as Tom Coyne. As I waited for the sad news I'd paid $50 for, Bob asked if I'd like to come back for a mid point and post marathon evaluation. I detected that my hearing had also failed, in the same way that my hamstrings had earlier. When Bob invited the team to use the training facilities at Riddle for free, I suspected that my hearing wasn't playing tricks. Despite questioning his medical opinion, sanity and medical qualifications, Bob told me that I had the green light to start training.

Without a 'Get out of Jail Free' card and the starting pistol officially fired, the finish line is now exactly that. 8 months and 26.2 miles away. Despite laughing and joking about the escapade, I'm actually very nervous about pushing myself physically beyond any point I have in the past. I'm concerned about months of aches and pains. Now that my exit strategy was nixxed, I'm nervous about not being able to do it. I'm encouraged at news from Dubai about Cristin running into a beige horizon; Joe in Chicago who has managed to find a way to train and play Fifa 2009 at the same time (genius); Jeannie from the Collar usually seen sitting on the front row of seats in Left field, or at the bar, already into a training plan that has her flying down Kelly Drive with other athletes; and by a girlfriend who I suspect will be carrying me across the aforementioned finish line.

Running of the Credit Card Variety

2009-08-12T10:15:00.000-07:00

It was around the sixth hole when I announced to my foursome that this would be my last round of golf for some time, explaining that I would soon be closeting the clubs and taking to the running paths. The golfers responded with silence, the infidelity of my admission hanging in the air. Running before golf? Sacrilege. The wisest and most accomplished player in our group cocked his chin and looked at me. “The day I start running,” he said, “is the day I see somebody smiling while they’re doing it.”

In this quest to understand why running is often done voluntarily, I have already identified a handful of running’s charms. First, and most obviously, you really do feel better afterward. My mightiest uninterrupted distance to date has been a whopping 1.5 miles, and it has taken ten days to get to that number, but I have already become reacquainted with that welcome headiness produced by thirty minutes of aerobic suffering. You sleep better. Eat better. Beer tastes better. (I know I’m in training, but give me a break—and it really does). I’ve also felt flashes of athletic coolness, bounding around Kelly Drive, zipping past Rocky statue posers, barking out a bossy “On your left!” to pedestrians, only to have them pass me a few minutes down the path as I hold two fistfuls of knee fat and suck for air. But there have been moments, mere seconds, where I felt fleet of foot, a runner within wanting to get out and sprint with the cool kids. Yet what I have found to be running’s most instantly and easily likable side is the simple egalitarian spirit of the whole thing—it’s something of the anti-golf in this regard, a less exclusive, less expensive, less complicated pastime impossible to imagine. But after so many years collecting golf gadgetry, and after so many equipment shopping sprees in search of hope and talent, it made sense that my first step into the runner’s world involved a fit of wanton consumption.

As I’m an absolute track neophyte in a race to become a pseudo-authority, I scooped up the top twenty selling running books on Amazon (I have a book-buying problem as it is, and a new project is a great enabler). So far, I highly recommend Christopher McDougall’s recent bestseller, BORN TO RUN. It combines a running education with a fascinating narrative, following his journey into the remote mountains of Mexico in search of a lost tribe of super-runners who do upwards of 100 miles a day on their bare feet. It’s great motivation, and he’s a Philadelphia guy. Even took my sister to her prom. Seriously. Small world.

I haven’t read it yet, but I’m excited about the title of THE NON-RUNNER’S MARATHON TRAINER, and I’ve been reading from THE RUNNER’S BOOK OF DAILY INSPIRATION, which is just about as hokey as it sounds, but I am getting something out of it. I don’t consider myself a morning affirmation guy, but then again, I didn’t consider myself a sneaker guy, either. GALLOWAY’S BOOK ON RUNNING also seems like a decent primer for us newcomers.

After some satisfying one-click shopping, I proceeded to the Philadelphia Runner’s Store where I entered seeking counsel on running coaches, clubs, gear, etc., but found myself too shy to confess to my endeavor. I declined the help of the svelte team of salespeople, afraid that they wouldn’t believe that a man who looks like he’s in his second trimester was shopping for an upcoming marathon. I quietly handed over the most money I’d ever spent for a pair of socks (Belega Hidden Comfort—for the price, I expected some anti-gravity or trampoline effect, but they are damn comfy), bought a few packages of ShotBlocks (gelatinous cubes of energy goo that got me around Ireland in 2007, in tasty flavors like cranberry and cola), a couple pairs of running shorts (gents, may I recommend a pair with lining, makes all the difference), and a bar of Body Glide anti-chaffing balm (not trying to gross anyone out here, but if you’ve just started running, you might wonder if such a product exists—it does, and it’s magic).

My meatiest investment to date has been the GARMIN 305 FORERUNNER, a GPS enabled training watch with a heart rate monitor (Joe has also picked up a Forerunner—Joe, your two cents?). It’s slightly bulky on your wrist, but it is light and hasn’t bothered me while running. It gives you accurate distance down to the step, so you don’t have to guess or estimate or have that fight with your brain about how far you have or haven’t traveled. The heart rate monitor has also been handy, and when you finish your run, you can upload your watch to a website that tracks all your stats, calories, pace, heart rate, etc., and shows your route on a map. Garmin makes a wide range of these trainers in different sizes and price ranges. I’m not sure it’s worth the money, but it has been good for me in that I don’t have to get to a metered running path to know how far I’ve gone. And it helps you look the part, which is really all I’m after right now anyway. (Another good, and free, option is to use http://www.mapmyrun.com/, which allows you to draw your route on a map, and find out how far you’ve gone.)

It looks like our first group run/get together is going to be on the morning of SATURDAY, AUGUST 22^nd. I’ll get back to you with time and place, but circle that date on your calendar if you get a chance. In the meantime, look into your health/fitness evaluations, try some run/walking if you’re up for it, or just go shopping. That seems to work, too.

Forgive Me Fitness, for I Have Sinned

2009-08-04T10:19:00.001-07:00

Something out there was ready to explode. Outside my window, Philadelphia slept under a blanket of November grey, but in the cold morning quiet, you could hear a sizzle beneath the silence. There was an unsteadiness in the city air, as if a far-off storm was collecting itself and turning for here. I woke and laced up my sneakers and hurried out the door, and I followed a hum that built to a buzz that reared up and roared as I turned a corner and discovered the starting line, where a nervous cloud hovered above a shuffling throng of thousands. I shouldered myself into position, my feet pushing through a mud of nerves and anticipation, the tension squeezing us all breathless until bang, the morning came unstuck and the crowd poured forth. And it was time for me to do what I had been training to do for years. I stretched, reached, and crack, the vented widemouth came unstuck and the lager poured forth. Beer always tasted better on race day.

As I guarded my plastic cup of Heineken from the outstretched hands of passing runners, I began to wonder where tailgating a marathon ranked on my life’s list of sins against fitness. I recalled the five-on-five basketball tournament that I played with a Marlboro Light clenched in my teeth, the NordicTrack I left in the box, and the time I forgot my golf shoes but remembered the cooler. There was the morning I set out for a run, ran straight to the corner deli for a bacon and egg sandwich, then returned home where my wife asked how my run was, to which I replied, “Good.” As I watched the marathoners’ glistening legs and bony frames bound past me, I imagined myself bare-chested in front of a mirror, pondering the precise definition of cleavage, eyeing a belly that seemed to spill forth like a fallen soufflé. I thought of my blood pressure that rivaled a day trader’s, and my total cholesterol that would be admired as a batting average. I listened as thousands of heels slapped the asphalt, sneakers that were snug and quick and light as slippers, while mine were four years old and in good enough shape to be returned for store credit. I had danced with physical wellbeing in my life, but they were wild and fleeting tangos, and never did fitness feel farther away than on the sidelines of the Philadelphia marathon, where I chewed my bratwurst and understood that, although I was separated from the racers by a thin yellow rope, our two worlds were galaxies apart.

26.1 to Go is a quest to close that gap, and to make amends. This endeavor, and this blog, is about a gang of outsiders taking a journey into the dark heart of fitness, a group of tenderfoots on a trip to a strange world where people run without panic or pursuit. Accompanied by a team of like-minded road running novices, I will endeavor to understand why so many people choose to imitate a two thousand year old trek traveled by a runner who dropped dead at the finish line. Millions of Americans sacrifice their knees, dollars, and free hours in order to travel in a circle at a slightly elevated rate of speed, and the causes of this condition have too long been ignored. Distance running has seen an increase in devotion unparalleled in the history of sport—over the last thirty years, participation in the Boston Marathon is up an astounding 6,000%--and somebody needs to explain to the rest of us, to the sprawling mass of the sedentary, just why that is. Some people run marathons for cancer or diabetes or animal rights. I’m running for anyone who has ever lied to get out of a 5K, or gotten a get well card from their gym, or has ever felt winded after watching a Bowflex infomercial. I’m running for the fitness fallen. For seven months, my friends and I will drag our bodies across thousands of miles of pavement, covering enough distance to have jogged ourselves across the country, all in search of an answer to the greatest mystery in modern sport: Where the hell is everybody running to?

I want to know what the runners know. And in less than a year’s time, I hope that a few more of us will.

So in order to pry open the inner workings of fitness, expose its hard underbelly, testify to its prophecies, and take its finish-line epiphanies to task, a group of first-timers are going to cross that thin yellow line and take a spot on the starting line at the 34^th International Paris Marathon on April 11, 2010. While distance running is the ultimate in athletic solipsism, this story will be about the hopefuls, the champions, the coaches, trainers, dieticians, doctors, and scientists of the running world. On this blog (and in the forthcoming title from Gotham/Penguin Books), you will get to know a group of committed strivers as we work our way to Paris, and you will be able to follow our progress as team members grow, change, quit, and wrestle with a new pastime.

In just forty years, distance running has gone from an obscure New Zealand import to perhaps the most popular fitness activity in the country (jogging in America claims to trace its roots to a 1962 rendezvous between the University of Oregon track team and a New Zealand running club). 26.1 to Go will explore that phenomenon, and in doing so, tell a story larger than that of sneakers and starting lines. As one segment of our society swells to new widths, a whole other side of America is determined to accomplish a feat of endurance once considered reasonable for only an elite few. How has the marathon become the stuff of school teachers and accountants and golf writers—how did 26.2 miles become a hobby? Is it the endurance high or the joy of accomplishment? Is there actual fun being had behind those zombie gazes cast downward at the asphalt? Is the marathon a chance to achieve something genuine in a culture that makes us all want to achieve, but gives us few avenues to do so? Is it the finish line flash of celebrity? A chance to leave a stamp, to do the uncommon, to say I was here, I ran, I have the medal? Is it a chance to blast through the noise and artifice of our world and feel something absolutely real? Or is it just a chance to hang around midriffs and curvy lycra? 26.2 miles feels like plenty of space to figure it out.