Recovering from Boston

A week since the race the effects are wearing off slowly. The post race euphoria is gone, replace by thoughts of summer trail races and a chance for redemption at the New York Marathon in the fall. The back is still pretty tight. On Monday (4/27) ran a very slow 7 miles. Tuesday, I swam during the day and did some light weight lifting at night. Going for another run today.

Read Scott Dunlap blog (one of my favorites) and discovered that I finished just in front of Scott and his father. It is so great that he was able to experience Boston with his father. Kudos to the both of them!!

Already, my geeky side is returning. Writing down training schedules, reviewing the Brad Hudson book and doing a lot of thinking about what I can do better for my next race.

2/22/09 Still Sore and Tired in Queens, but on the way home

Woke up sore but rested. Walked with Mallory to the train station and we rode together until 59th street when I got off. I spent the morning wandering around the Upper East Side, checking out bookstores, running stores and having breakfast at the Yorkville Diner which was very good and only 10 bucks. Walked past Mal’s new apartment and took a photo. Had to walk into Hunter College to find a bathroom, lots of young students wondering who the hell was this old guy wandering the halls. Took me a while to find it.
Took the train to 34th street and walked around, looking at a golf shop until it was time to meet Mal. We ate at a place called Macaroon, having sandwiches and one coke for 17 bucks. Even for New York, that’s steep. Also bought macaroons for Marian and Cookie. Total cost, 50 bucks! Whew! Then it was back on the train to Mal’s place. Walked to the stations and an hour later, arrived at JFK. Then a quiet beer while I type this.

2/21/09 Sore and Tired in Queens

Back in New York. Had to crawl on my hands and knees from the bed to the door so I could pull myself up. Aching all over, I managed to clean up and get out the door at the crack of 11:30. A very slow walk to the 30th ave. station, coffee and Daily News in hand. Met up with Mal and we ate some pizza that was fine, nothing special. Then I spent most of the afternoon wandering around Chelsea, checking out stores, stopping for coffee and reading.
Picked up Mal and we took the train back to Queens. We ate at a place called Picolo Vencenzia or Little Venice. A pure white table place. The waiter was not happy when we ordered soup and a half an order of ravioli. But, that’s what we felt like eating/ Total bill, including tip, was 40 bucks. Read a bit before hitting the sack. Still sore and tired.

2/20/09 The Big Event-The Boston Maration

Because I am always early, I got up at 4:30 a.m. and caught the 5:00 shuttle to the subway station, me and 8 other impulsive compulsives. We got to the station and got on the train. Getting off the station, myself and a few thousand other runners walked up to some school buses lined up along the street. There must have been a hundred buses. The ride up to Hopkinton was quiet, some runners sleeping or at least pretending to sleep. Others eating and drinking. Still others like myself, got to know our neighbors. I met a guy from Reno Nevada and another from Texas. Both likeable guys, we had a lot to talk about.
Arriving at Hopkinton, we wandered onto a big grassy field, about half of which was covered with a tarp overhead. The man from Texas had thought ahead and hard a poncho that was big enough for the three of to sit on. We spent the next three hours chatting and drinking coffee as we shivered and waited for the start. Being smart for once, I hit the porta potties earlier and only had to wait a few minutes in line. Soon the lines were an hour long or so I was told.
Herded into our corrals, I kept my sweats on until the actual start because I still had time to take them off before the crowd started moving. Careful not to go too fast at the start, I saw that I had done the first mile in 8:15. Not exactly a stellar beginning.

The course was as tough as advertised. I had managed to get back at my goal pace by miles 12-13. There were lots of little hills. Easy by themselves, but after awhile, they took their toll so that by the time I reached Heartbreak Hill, my pace slowed down. The weather was windy and cold the entire race. Not as tough as the 2007 San Francisco Half Marathon, but it had an effect on my pace. I also had to take two bathroom stops because I had hydrated too well. I probably should have drank less. The jelly bellies seemed to help keep my glucose level up and I did sip Gatorade as well.
My unofficial watch time was 3:44. Not great, but not my worst e ther. Overall, it was a great experience, something I’ll never forget.
After the race, I limped to a Sporting Goods store and bought a sweat shirt because I was freezing!. Then a slow walk to the subway. Once at the station by the hotel, I thought I was set, but noooooo I had a 40 minute wait in the cold before the bus showed up. Back at the hotel, I changed in the bathroom and caught a shuttle to the airport. I tried to check into my Jet Blue flight and was told with a smile-“your flight’s been cancelled, maybe you can catch one tomorrow.” I remained calm and she told me my only recourse was to get a refund from jet blue and book a flight with Delta.
40 minutes later, after a bus ride to another terminal and a long walk, I arrived at the Delta counter. I was told that I could get a flight to JFK after paying an additional 35 bucks for buying the ticket at the airport. Jeez I walked to the gate and was told my flight had been cancelled and directed to another gate at the other end of the terminal. Arriving at this gate, I was told that the flight was delayed and there was a possibility that this flight would also be cancelled. A easy two hour wait, I was listening to my ipod and reading while the other passengers screamed, and we were loaded on the plane. We sat for an half an hour before taking off. Easy flight to Jfk.
Arriving at JFK, I was tired but on familiar ground. I take the usual train to Forrest Hills and wait for an W or N train. No such trains arrive, but plenty of E trains arrive. I got on the 4th E train and discovered that tonight, it was stopping at Steinway where I had to get off. Climbing up Steinway, I see it is raining hard. I flag a cab and pay 10 bucks for a 5 block ride. I don’t care, I am too tired. I let myself in. I take a quick shower and pass out on the bed.

The Epic Day is Over!

The Road to Boston-Day 2 (4/19/09)

Couldn't get more boring. Read, watch tv, nap. Walk to the fridge and get something to eat, repeat. Dinner was Italian-chicken parm and spaghetti. Try to go to sleep a little after 9. Nervous because back still hurts.

I decide that I would make race day my greatest day. The sore back is an opportunity to overcome an obstacle and make the race more memorable. A chance to prove once again that I am no quitter. I sleep well after making this decision.

The Road to Boston-Day 3 (4/18/09)

Up at 4:30, ouch! More pain as the back is still sore, but a little less than yesterday. Take the train out to JFK, read the papers and catch the flight to Beantown. The flight is smooth and short. I call the hotel and 15 minutes later, the shuttle shows up. It's 9:00 a.m., I am hoping that they will let me drop off my bags. But, they do better than that. They let me check in! I unpack and then catch the bus to the T which is what the locals in Boston call the Subway. I ride it in and go to the Convention Center.

Thousands of thin, high strung runners. All jabbering away about carbo loading, depletion, new shoes etc. I stand in line with the rest, get my number and tee shirt. Then I wander around the expo and watch people buy stuff. I settle for one tee shirt, a coffee cup and a pull over. Then I walk to Newberry Street and have a hamburger, read the paper and go to Trader Joes for supplies. Take the train and the bus back and chill out for the rest of the day and night. Read a lot and napped.

As long as I am walking the back and hamstrings are tight but don't hurt much. If I sit down, then getting back up is a slow and painful process. The first 20 minutes of walking aren't much fun either. Oh well.

Countdown to Boston-4 Days to Go (4/17/09)

Slept in this morning. Waking up, I discovered that my back hurt so bad (probably from carrying the heavy bags up the subway stairs) that I had to crawl to the door and pull myself up. I ate some cereal and then got the bright idea that a run should loosen up the sore muscles. I ran down to Astoria Park which is on the East River, opposite Roosevelt Island. Did the old man's jog for the first mile or so and then I did in fact warm up.

I spent the rest of the day hobbling to the subway station, taking the train to Harald Square to watch a movie. (State of Prey) Great movie. Met daughter in the upper East Side for dinner and then headed back to my Daughter's place. Back still as tight as one of those Japanese drums. Ouch! Back to bed for an early flight to Boston.

Countdown to Boston 5 Days to Go Part 2

A very long flight, followed by a slow ride on the E train from JFK to Forrest Hills, transfer to the R train to Steinway. Then, a painful and slow walk up Steinway to my daughter's place. Dump the bags, take a quick shower and then back through Queens and back to Manhattan to meet her for lunch. My legs feel pretty fresh, even if I am feeling pretty tired for lack of sleep. Hanging around a bookstore helps, then dinner with my daughter, another shower and than sack time.

Countdown to Boston-5 Days to go Part 1

Last day in San Francisco. I did a lot of paperwork at work, did one last Pier 80 run (see earlier posts for pictures) and packed my stuff. The plan is once I get home, to get cleaned up, have some dinner and get to the train to go to the airport. Need to get something to read for the trip too. More when I get to the airport tonight.

Countdown to Boston-6 Days to Go

Next to last day at work. Spent most of it looking at a file and a report I should have finished a week ago, but my mind is definitely not on my job. Did manage to file my taxes and send in some bill payments. A trip to Niketown resulted in a nice pair of skate shoes. This evening was spent packing and of course writing this nonsense. Am I still nervous? You bet! A light fixture in a bathroom refuses to work, even with new bulbs and I was stressing about that. Suddenly I care which of the gazillion running and Livestrong tee shirts I need to bring. Then, I felt a big pain in my kneecap. why? I haven't the foggiest idea, I was literally changing a lightbulb when it happened. I took a shower and hurt then. Afterward I ate and the pain had gone away completely. I think the mind is really playing tricks on me now! Work tomorrow, then a quick dinner, then the flight to JFK.

Countdown to Boston-7 Days to go

A week from now, I will be in Boston. As I write this, it's 10:15 a.m. pst which means that if I am running well, I will be near the finish of the race exactly a week from now. For the past few days, I have been feeling the usual pre race jitters/regrets. Did I do enough long runs, enough speed work, enough racing? By now of course, its too late. For this race, I've tried a pretty aggressive taper, halving my milage, but doing some fast tempo runs and pick ups when I do run. My weight hasn't gone up. I'm happy about that. Today, I'm doing a 7.5 run with some pick ups.

The Beginning

In August, two weeks before he was to start the 8th grade of Junior High, they put him in a cage. It was made of chromed steel, hard plastic and stiff cow hide. The hard plastic shell fit around his hips like a vise, made tight by Velcro straps. Long steel strips went from the plastic base up his chest and back, meeting in a mesh of steel under his chin which was supported by a padded leather chin rest.
While he was wearing his cage, he was unable to lift his arms above his chest. Each time he tried, his shoulders and upper arms would bang into the steel bars. He could not turn his head and if he wanted to look at something or someone that wasn’t directly in front of him, had to move his entire body to the left or right. The doctor told him that he had to wear the cage at all times, except in the shower for the first six months. Getting a full night’s sleep was impossible, and the only sleep he did get was when he was flat on his back. Any other position caused the metal bars to dig into his body.
He learned to eat by bringing the fork, spoon or cup high to his mouth and trying to lean forward. Even then, he would spill something almost every time. The food or liquid dribbling down the front of his shirt and on the chin guard which he had to clean after every meal. For two weeks, his only physical activity was the occasional walk. There was no more baseball, biking, running, hiking and nothing that would use up the endless supply of nervous energy flowing through his veins. The cage removed his legs.
Finally, the day he had been dreading for weeks came, the first day of school. Down the street he walked. At first, unnoticed. Then gradually, he saw out of the corner of his eye, other kids in his school pointing at him. He walked straight to the classroom without stopping by his locker or talking to anybody.
In the classroom, the teacher barely acknowledged him as she went through her lesson plan. Sitting down was awkward and very painful. First he had to fall into his seat. Then, the straps and steel bars dug into his hips and lower back. When the teacher called out his name, several of the students laughed out loud and he heard a whispered “tin man” behind him.
For the next six months, every day was a repeat of the first. Like and endless looping nightmare, never changing, never ending. He lost every friend he thought he had. Prevented from taking gym class, he spent that hour in the library.
The one day that was different was when on the way home from school, a bully pushed him down to the ground from behind. He pancaked on the ground, skinning his hands, knees and nose. He surprised the bully by slowly getting up and punching him in the nose. The bully punched him in the chest, hitting one of the metal bars. That was the end of the fight, except for the usual by the bully and his friends that “I’m going to get you later.” Nothing ever came of it, but, he would sometimes wish for more confrontations, at least someone would be talking to him.
Unannounced, his mother took him back to the doctor where he was prodded and asked where his back hurt and to do some stretching exercises. At the end of the exam the doctor turned to his Mother and said “he can take the brace off for one hour a day, starting tomorrow.” His Mother and the doctor spent another 10 minutes talking, but he didn’t hear a word.
That Friday night, he was unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time and for once, it wasn’t because of the brace. He couldn’t decide when or how he would use his one hour of freedom. He knew that during the week, he would use it for gym class. Finally, the sun came up. His father made his decision for him about his morning. “You need to mow the lawn, wash out the garage and wash the car before you do anything.”
By the time he finished his chores, it was past 2. He went inside his room and took off the cage. Feeling the loss of the 10 pounds of chrome and leather, he felt light and fast and clean. He put on his sneakers and went out. “Where are you going” his Mother asked. “Out” he said. “When are you coming back?” “In an hour” he responded as he closed the door.
The air felt damp and heavy. The fog was rolling over the hills from Pacifica. He knew there was the sun behind the clouds and the fog. He could feel the warmth, even if he couldn’t see it. He started walking down the street. Faster and faster, until he was running with hard, painful breaths. His body wanted to stop, to make the pain in his legs and chest go away, but, he ignored that. Running to the top of a hill, he paused to look around, back towards the airport and his neighborhood. Then he turned around and ran back home.
Sunday, after he got back from Mass, he ran again. He wanted to go to the library. To get some books on famous runners, but, he would have to wait. In those days, there was no internet, no Amazon, no Barnes & Noble. Nothing to quench the thirst of instant gratification. He had to wait and for him, waiting was a slow death.
Monday came and in his hands were his gym sweats. New, too big because they hadn’t been washed yet. He went to gym class with a smile on his face. After changing, he handed his cage to the Coach in his glassed in office. The cage wouldn’t fit in a regular locker. The Coach looked at the cage and then at him. He said nothing.
In class, he played basketball on an outdoor asphalt court. He didn’t shoot one basket, but was content to run as fast as he could up and down the court. Once, he stole the ball from one of the better players, passed it to another for an easy layup. The player turned and yelled, “good pass.” He smiled and said nothing. It was the first friendly words he had heard from somebody his own age in months. When he retrieved the cage, the Coach asked, “you have to wear this every day?” “Yes, I can only take it off for one hour a day.” The Coach nodded and said nothing.
The rest of winter passed in this way. He was still alone, but he was left alone. Still the freak, the robot, the tin man that wasn’t spoken to, but, now was harassed either. In mid February, he saw a notice posted on the locker room wall. “Tryouts for track, February 21.” He ran as much as he could in gym and on the weekend before the try out.
It was so cold the day of the tryout that he could see his breath every time he exhaled. Huge clouds of steam seemed to float over the grassy and muddy field. The Track Coach was a tall, thin man with glasses, wearing leather shoes with three stripes on the sides. He’d never seen shoes like that close up, only in books or in the old track and field magazines he read in the library. He only had his sneakers.
The Coach pointed to several boys before getting to him and then said, “you boys will be running two laps. Let’s see how you do.” He lined up on a painted chalk line in the grass with the rest of the boys. The Coach yelled “go!” and pushed the button on his stop watch. He felt dizzy as he sprinted around the turn with the other boys, out of breath after only 20 or 30 yards, but he hung on. It hurt, but he kept going.
One by one, one of the boys would slow and he would pass on the left. Still, there were two boys in front of him when they passed the Coach for the second lap. The Coach yelled out their split times as they passed, his face red and excited. On the back stretch, he sprinted and it hurt so bad, he had block spots in his eyes. Each breath burned his throat and chest. Still, he made himself keep going. Flying around the last turn, he finished 10 yards in front of the other runners.
Bent over, holding his knees as he tried to get some air in his lungs and not throw up, he
heard the Coach say “track isn’t like baseball or football, the clock doesn’t care what kind of
shoes you wear, if you are popular or if you wear a back brace. It only matters how fast you run.
Son, you are some fast runner. You will be running the 880 and maybe the mile. Get yourself
some spikes and we’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and call me Bob, never call me Coach.”
The way home that day, was the easiest he had made since he had been sentenced to the
cage. He was about halfway home when he heard, “hey wait up!” It was a short guy with dark
hair he had seen at the tryouts and around the school named Mike. “So, what event are you
running? I’m doing the quarter mile.”

Lucky Man

For some people, "Lucky Man" is the name of a song by either (depending on your age or musical interests) Emerson Lake and Palmer or The Verve. I like both songs. I was listening to The Verve's song and got to thinking about whether I am a 'Lucky Man." Considering that my children are healthy, intelligent and focused on living a life worth living, I am a lucky man. That my wife is a kind person and a wonderful caretaker of us all, again, I am a lucky man. I have a good job, am reasonably healthy and have had some success in running and other things. Yes, I am a lucky man.

But what about other people who aren't so lucky? I got to thinking about this during my Mother's recent fight with cancer. Writing and calling the Lance Armstrong Foundation did wonders for my confidence in helping my Mother. So, I'm doing what I can, financially and spreading the word for those people who aren't so lucky. let's not depend on the government or on other people to do something. Lets.....................................................Livestrong

Stress Relief

When people talk or write about the benefits of running, almost all of it has to do with the physical benefits. Lowering the heart rate and blood pressure, cholesterol, losing weight etc. I think the biggest benefit is it offers an escape from everyday pressures and worries. Whether its the scenery, the pace or that side stitch that won't go away, it is easy to forget about everyday stresses and focus on the run. Anyone who has done any kind of running will recall a time where a solution to a problem arrived during the run without any prompting or thinking. It was just there.

Considering the average pair of running shoes is 80 bucks and the average cost of therapy is 75 to 100 bucks, lawyers especially divorce lawyers go for 250-350 an hour, running offers a pretty cheap solution to problems and escape from stress. Just looking at a new pair of running shoes brings fantasies of fast effortless runs. Probably won't come true, but then PF Flyers didn't make me jump higher or run faster either. Still, the dream is still alive and the chance to escape to the outdoors should always be taken.

I have regretted not going for a run, but I have never regretted going for a run, even if it was in the snow or rain or in the boiling sun. So, take a mental health break and go for a run!