Not in the club.

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?

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

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!

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

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

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?

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.

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!

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

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

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.

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

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

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.