With some heavy icing Thursday night my knew was ready for a few miles today. A Long Run of 16 miles was scheduled but I scaled it back to 7 due to Thursdays limping about. I ran the Roosevelt-36th Ave Route and, oddly, I posted my best time for this course by two minutes. However, I don't understand the second mile split of 9:54, that's the pace I run when pushing Ella in the jogging stroller.
Route:Roosevelt Island-36th Ave Return
Time: 1:00:00 (7 mile PR)
Splits: 9.20, 9.54 (What?), 7.49, 8.19, 8.18, 8.20, 8.27
Friday, April 30, 2010
Curs'ed Tea Salon
There won't be a long run today. I banged my knee on a nouveau, art deco, plexiglass piece of garbage at the fucking tea salon. A piece of garbage which shouldn't have been there since everything at the tea salon is supposed to be Victorian decor. Spent Thursday limping about. Feeling better today but am hesitant to go long. If the knee is feeling good later this afternoon I may go for a short run with my running buddy, who read these same words in an email I sent to him this morning. Reduce, REUSE, Recycle!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Shorties
So I received a $50 gift certificate to runningwharehouse.com and bought a pair of Nike shorts, 7" outseam. Compared to many things that come to my mind, 7 inches is long. Shorts, not so much. Though I bought the shorts myself and even signed for the package when it arrived, Lisa felt they should be wrapped since they were a birthday present. I bring this up because just before I unwrapped the gift Ella let me know that they were not shorts, and then she let me know that my next gift wasn't a book. Lisa and I both laughed when I held up the shorts. Mine was a "man I hope I can pull these off" type of laugh. Lisa's was more of a "wow! I married a guy that wears shorts like that" type of laugh. I was a bit nervous, these are serious shorts.
The Lulu Lemon gear is one thing, it was all given to me. I've never bought a single thing from that store, I've wanted to, but the water bottles are too expensive. Lucky for us though, Lisa's best friend worked at a Lulu Lemon for a time and I got a couple of Tech shirts for Christmas one year. Even more lucky for me, this same friend got her father a couple of Tech shirts for his birthday but decided not to give them to him, so I got them instead. Being given something provides a safety net in that my wife gave me the shirts, she thought I would look good in them. And if the wife thinks you look good in something you needn't any other reason to wear it. But I bought the shorts, and short shorts are an advertisement to all around that you mean business. People don't wear short shorts for a two miler. Short Shorters don't even do two milers. Short shorts are for the long run, intervals, hill work, Marathons. The top finishers at any race are all Short Shorters. In fact, the top finishers would consider my 7" outseam shorts prudish. I needed time to debate if a I had the legs to be a Short Shorter. I don't mean physically attractive legs. I have what is referred to in medical terms as chicken legs, I prefer daddy legs, so that was ruled out from the get-go.
I was afraid of being a poser. Wearing short shorts is like showing up at the tennis court in full La Coque Sportif whites, with three rackets slung over you shoulder without even knowing what Love-40 means. Echoing in my head was the question "am I a strong enough runner to pull off the short shorts?". Was I trying to divert attention away from my 9 minute pace? And why aren't my legs any less chickeny (again, medical term) after all these miles? Damn you DNA! For several days I pretended to debate this short shorts question. I say pretended not because the doubts were merely writers embellishment, but because despite how foolish I might look I was going to wear them at least once. I had a ten miler scheduled for my next long run, that would be the day. I would wear the short shorts and my Lulu Lemon Tech shirt with the lime green skulls, because it matched the green stripe on the shorts. I would also take my new ankle high compression socks for a spin. Mmmmm, accessories. I was meeting friends in Brooklyn after the run and wouldn't be heading home until the end of the night. So I mapped a route up the Hudson River Greenway. I wasn't going to put my work shoes back on after a long run, and in order to keep the pack light I decided to wear my running shoes for my night out in Brooklyn. Sadly, this meant my new shoes, Mizuno Wave Rider 13's, would have to sit this one out, so I took the Asics out of their recent retirement for one last one. The same shoes that accompanied me for the Three Bridges Run, my very first pair of running shoes.
The run went from 10 miles to 14 before I hit the road. A good part of the run took me up through Riverside Park, the 5 mile mark would have me stop and turn around a mere 20 or so blocks from the top of the park, but not touring the entire park felt like quitting, so I tacked on a couple extra miles. It was supposed to be a tapper week but I had missed my hill day with the Astoria Hellgaters, so I thought it would be a beautiful way to make up some lost miles. And it was beautiful. I left Irving Place heading west on 17th, this mile and little bit is the only part of the entire run with traffic interruptions, which in New York ranks the run at an 8 automatically.
There are great views of Jersey looking wantonly back at the New York skyline, small parks and a few cafes can be found along the route. The USS Intrepid is permanently moored at Pier 86 at 46th Street and is home to the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum. Wow! Tour Guide much? There's also a couple of bathrooms along the route which is very nice.
I kept running until I knew for certain I had passed the tip of Riverside Park and then some. I actually found myself at the foot of some stairs leading up to 136th St. At the foot of those stairs were several young gentlemen. A few of the young men were dressed in crisp camouflage fatigues and wrapped around the torso of one kid was a munitions belt. The belt could have held 12 or 16 clips on each side. The kid had his thumbs through the straps like a farm boy and I got the feeling this was a fashion statement, not a uniform. Still, I did what any seasoned New Yorker does when in a strange neighborhood, I waited for someone else to venture past the gaggle of military fashionistas. When no attention was paid to the test subject I fell in behind and made my way up. I paused for a moment once up top to shake off the cowardice, and then turned south for the return leg.
I had taken Cytomax Tangerine/Orange along for hydration because it will be served along the route in Seattle this June. I never felt that it quenched my deepening thirst. Were I to describe it with one word it would have to be Hairy. It lingered in my throat and left my mouth feeling as though I had gargled a bottle of simple syrup. Sorry Cytomax, I'll be sticking with the low-tech aqua.
After the run, I made it to Brooklyn but the beers were few. In fact, it was just one. A friend had a pint glass full of ice water and I was staring it down like a C-Note lying in the street. I don't believe covet is too strong a word. I coveted somebody's free glass of water. The thirst just couldn't be quenched, so I kept drinking, and drinking. This super hydration did not make the train ride from Park Slope, Brooklyn to Astoria, Queens much fun. When I finally reached my stop I scurried home as fast as my legs could go and headed straight for the first of a dozen or so trips to the bathroom. Lisa had a friend visiting that night, and around trip number six I started sneaking to the bathroom, furtively opening the bedroom door and then the bathroom, in hopes of not being heard. Ella had fallen asleep in our bed and I jealously wished I had a pair of pull-ups. Sans the Depends and my bed-wetting conquered way back in college, I played the part of the metronome, steadily swinging back and forth between bed and toilet, bed and toilet, bed and toilet. Man what I would have given for a good ole' undergrad black-out.
I didn't know it at the time but I had actually logged 16 miles. A new record for me, I'm sorry, a new PR. I shouldn't neglect the vernacular. The one thing that became abundantly clear is that no matter how hard I train, no matter how many miles I log, 26.2 is going to hurt. The training is to see how long I can run in discomfort. Not debilitating pain, but tolerable discomfort. There will be a good six or seven miles at the end where I'm going to be wishing it was over. I'm sure I'll question why I ever thought it a good idea to put myself to such a test. What I will no longer question is the short shorts. The way I see it, they're 16 miles long now. Having set a PR I now wonder, can I pull off a 5" outseam? Hmmm.
Route: West Side 16
Distance: 16 Miles
Time: 2:14:22
Pace: 8:23.9
Feeling: Thirsty, awesome, a little sexy-but too sore!
The Lulu Lemon gear is one thing, it was all given to me. I've never bought a single thing from that store, I've wanted to, but the water bottles are too expensive. Lucky for us though, Lisa's best friend worked at a Lulu Lemon for a time and I got a couple of Tech shirts for Christmas one year. Even more lucky for me, this same friend got her father a couple of Tech shirts for his birthday but decided not to give them to him, so I got them instead. Being given something provides a safety net in that my wife gave me the shirts, she thought I would look good in them. And if the wife thinks you look good in something you needn't any other reason to wear it. But I bought the shorts, and short shorts are an advertisement to all around that you mean business. People don't wear short shorts for a two miler. Short Shorters don't even do two milers. Short shorts are for the long run, intervals, hill work, Marathons. The top finishers at any race are all Short Shorters. In fact, the top finishers would consider my 7" outseam shorts prudish. I needed time to debate if a I had the legs to be a Short Shorter. I don't mean physically attractive legs. I have what is referred to in medical terms as chicken legs, I prefer daddy legs, so that was ruled out from the get-go.
I was afraid of being a poser. Wearing short shorts is like showing up at the tennis court in full La Coque Sportif whites, with three rackets slung over you shoulder without even knowing what Love-40 means. Echoing in my head was the question "am I a strong enough runner to pull off the short shorts?". Was I trying to divert attention away from my 9 minute pace? And why aren't my legs any less chickeny (again, medical term) after all these miles? Damn you DNA! For several days I pretended to debate this short shorts question. I say pretended not because the doubts were merely writers embellishment, but because despite how foolish I might look I was going to wear them at least once. I had a ten miler scheduled for my next long run, that would be the day. I would wear the short shorts and my Lulu Lemon Tech shirt with the lime green skulls, because it matched the green stripe on the shorts. I would also take my new ankle high compression socks for a spin. Mmmmm, accessories. I was meeting friends in Brooklyn after the run and wouldn't be heading home until the end of the night. So I mapped a route up the Hudson River Greenway. I wasn't going to put my work shoes back on after a long run, and in order to keep the pack light I decided to wear my running shoes for my night out in Brooklyn. Sadly, this meant my new shoes, Mizuno Wave Rider 13's, would have to sit this one out, so I took the Asics out of their recent retirement for one last one. The same shoes that accompanied me for the Three Bridges Run, my very first pair of running shoes.
The run went from 10 miles to 14 before I hit the road. A good part of the run took me up through Riverside Park, the 5 mile mark would have me stop and turn around a mere 20 or so blocks from the top of the park, but not touring the entire park felt like quitting, so I tacked on a couple extra miles. It was supposed to be a tapper week but I had missed my hill day with the Astoria Hellgaters, so I thought it would be a beautiful way to make up some lost miles. And it was beautiful. I left Irving Place heading west on 17th, this mile and little bit is the only part of the entire run with traffic interruptions, which in New York ranks the run at an 8 automatically.
There are great views of Jersey looking wantonly back at the New York skyline, small parks and a few cafes can be found along the route. The USS Intrepid is permanently moored at Pier 86 at 46th Street and is home to the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum. Wow! Tour Guide much? There's also a couple of bathrooms along the route which is very nice.
I kept running until I knew for certain I had passed the tip of Riverside Park and then some. I actually found myself at the foot of some stairs leading up to 136th St. At the foot of those stairs were several young gentlemen. A few of the young men were dressed in crisp camouflage fatigues and wrapped around the torso of one kid was a munitions belt. The belt could have held 12 or 16 clips on each side. The kid had his thumbs through the straps like a farm boy and I got the feeling this was a fashion statement, not a uniform. Still, I did what any seasoned New Yorker does when in a strange neighborhood, I waited for someone else to venture past the gaggle of military fashionistas. When no attention was paid to the test subject I fell in behind and made my way up. I paused for a moment once up top to shake off the cowardice, and then turned south for the return leg.
I had taken Cytomax Tangerine/Orange along for hydration because it will be served along the route in Seattle this June. I never felt that it quenched my deepening thirst. Were I to describe it with one word it would have to be Hairy. It lingered in my throat and left my mouth feeling as though I had gargled a bottle of simple syrup. Sorry Cytomax, I'll be sticking with the low-tech aqua.
After the run, I made it to Brooklyn but the beers were few. In fact, it was just one. A friend had a pint glass full of ice water and I was staring it down like a C-Note lying in the street. I don't believe covet is too strong a word. I coveted somebody's free glass of water. The thirst just couldn't be quenched, so I kept drinking, and drinking. This super hydration did not make the train ride from Park Slope, Brooklyn to Astoria, Queens much fun. When I finally reached my stop I scurried home as fast as my legs could go and headed straight for the first of a dozen or so trips to the bathroom. Lisa had a friend visiting that night, and around trip number six I started sneaking to the bathroom, furtively opening the bedroom door and then the bathroom, in hopes of not being heard. Ella had fallen asleep in our bed and I jealously wished I had a pair of pull-ups. Sans the Depends and my bed-wetting conquered way back in college, I played the part of the metronome, steadily swinging back and forth between bed and toilet, bed and toilet, bed and toilet. Man what I would have given for a good ole' undergrad black-out.
I didn't know it at the time but I had actually logged 16 miles. A new record for me, I'm sorry, a new PR. I shouldn't neglect the vernacular. The one thing that became abundantly clear is that no matter how hard I train, no matter how many miles I log, 26.2 is going to hurt. The training is to see how long I can run in discomfort. Not debilitating pain, but tolerable discomfort. There will be a good six or seven miles at the end where I'm going to be wishing it was over. I'm sure I'll question why I ever thought it a good idea to put myself to such a test. What I will no longer question is the short shorts. The way I see it, they're 16 miles long now. Having set a PR I now wonder, can I pull off a 5" outseam? Hmmm.
Route: West Side 16
Distance: 16 Miles
Time: 2:14:22
Pace: 8:23.9
Feeling: Thirsty, awesome, a little sexy-but too sore!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Work Out: 4/21
So I didn't 'man up' to the root canal. In fact I striaght up ditched the dental appointment. I told myself it was due to inclement weather, in truth there was only a ligt drizzle. The sun came out in the middle of my run to shine down on my shame. I ended up doing two miles at a good pace, 1 mile of Hills, then a mile cool down. I can't joke my way into another cancelation. Next week I have scheduled another dental appointment.
4 miles: 2 mile warm up, 1 mile Hills, 1 mile cool down.
Time: 36:08
Splits: 8:29, 8:35, 9:57, 9:06.
4 miles: 2 mile warm up, 1 mile Hills, 1 mile cool down.
Time: 36:08
Splits: 8:29, 8:35, 9:57, 9:06.
Work Out: 4/19
Took day off (sceduled: 3 mile easy run) due to etreme exhaustion. Translation, hung over due to many birthday beers. The road toward running away from my impending 4-0 started with a lazy day off.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Workout: Tuesday, April 20
Ha, ha. It's 4-20. Well those days are certainly gone. Now it's a 7 mile tempo run. I started with a very slow, very easy 21 minute jog. Followed by 10 minutes at a comfortably hard pace in which I clocked a 7 minute mile. Lighting fast for me. The rest of the work was to be a 6 minute recovery jog followed by an optional 12 minute fast pace run. I ended up doing slightly slower mile splits for the rest of the run. Finishing with a 7:02 for the full run. Only one minute faster than my usual pace. This begs the question, "What the he'll am I doing?" I think all my runs are tempo runs, even my Hill workouts usually end with negative splits. The next question is how do I log this? Medium long run? Tempo? Fartlek? Fartlek. It really is one if my favorite words. Next up, track work with the Hellgaters. Track work is like is like root canal surgery. It sucks, but when it's on the schedule you man up and just do it.
Distance: 7 miles
Time: 1:02
Splits: 9.28, 12.06, 7.02, 7.37, 8.51,9.02, 8.46
Route: Full Roosevelt Run , http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ny/-astoria/353127117481069768
Distance: 7 miles
Time: 1:02
Splits: 9.28, 12.06, 7.02, 7.37, 8.51,9.02, 8.46
Route: Full Roosevelt Run , http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ny/-astoria/353127117481069768
The Tuesday Switch
I have fallen into a sweet deal. My wife's friend Sharon proposed she and I take turns watching each others kids while the other takes a run. I have the better end of this deal as she runs only a few miles at a time, but Tuesdays are my medium-long runs. When we first started the switch I was doing five, it's up to seven now, but will be up to 10 miles in the coming weeks. Because of this lopsided exchange of kids I no longer need to debate between a pre-dawn run or an after dinner run, neither of which has much up side for me. Late morning runs are my thing. Plenty of afternoon left for errands and just enough morning left for one more cup of coffee. This Tuesday Switch brings to light the difficulty of finding the time to run long. The problem with early morning runs is that it effects the twelve hours before. This is fine the night before a race, but the precious few hours after the toddler beds down need to be devoted to the DVR. House, 24, American Idol, and 30 Rock arne't going to watch themselves. Conversely, after dinner runs are heavy on the stomach. If you like second tastes of spaghetti try 3 mile hill repeats after eating. Besides, staring a ten mile run at 7 PM leaves little time to hang with my girls. So I have one of two long days figured out, thanks entirely to the thoughtfulness of some one else. I still have to play my truly long runs by ear.
Shout Out
Scheduling runs when the miles get long is taxing. My wife fully supports the running but the time takes a toll on the whole family. I'm running a 26.2 on June 26th. I started training March 1st, building base miles in January and February. The better part of the year given over to a painful, hopefully sub four hour run. It takes dedication to grind out miles and workouts over 17 weeks, and an equal amount of support. So to my girls at home that earnestly ask "how was the run?" to my running buddy Ken 'Waist Coat' Feringi, and to my fellow Tuesday Switcher, Sharon, I give a big shout out. Thanks for helping me across the finish. At last i hope to get across the finish line. THANKS! You da best.
Shout Out
Scheduling runs when the miles get long is taxing. My wife fully supports the running but the time takes a toll on the whole family. I'm running a 26.2 on June 26th. I started training March 1st, building base miles in January and February. The better part of the year given over to a painful, hopefully sub four hour run. It takes dedication to grind out miles and workouts over 17 weeks, and an equal amount of support. So to my girls at home that earnestly ask "how was the run?" to my running buddy Ken 'Waist Coat' Feringi, and to my fellow Tuesday Switcher, Sharon, I give a big shout out. Thanks for helping me across the finish. At last i hope to get across the finish line. THANKS! You da best.
Work Out: 4/20
Ha, ha. It's 4-20. Well those days are certainly gone. Now it's a 7 mile tempo run. I started with a very slow, very easy 21 minute jog. Followed by 10 minutes at a comfortably hard pace in which I clocked a 7 minute mile. Lighting fast for me. The rest of the work was to be a 6 minute recovery jog followed by an optional 12 minute fast pace run. I ended up doing slightly slower mile splits for the rest of the run. Finishing with a 7:02 for the full run. Only one minute faster than my usual pace. This begs the question, "What the he'll am I doing?" I think all my runs are tempo runs, even my Hill workouts usually end with negative splits. The next question is how do I log this? Medium long run? Tempo? Fartlek? Fartlek. It really is one if my favorite words. Next up, track work with the Hellgaters. Track work is like is like root canal surgery. It sucks, but when it's in the sceduled you man up and just do it.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Three Bridges Run
I first started running in November of 2008 as a replacement addiction to smoking. Like many beginners I did a mile, then two, then over that Christmas I went for a run with two of my brothers-in-law for what amounted to a three miler. Three miles...consecutively. In addition to the exhilaration of not sitting on the couch, the sport of running is perfectly suited to accessorizing. I'm a hobbiest by nature. The allure of hobbies are the many tools one needs to pursue them and the lingo that attends them. Carboys, trub and secondary fermentation are just some of the delicious words from my beer making lexicon. To those I could now add negative splits, tempo run and fartlek. Mmmmmm. I was hooked. I immediately canceled my subscription to Time to make room for Runner's World and Running Times Magazine.
My miles gradually increased and in late April of '09 I broke double digits with a run to and around Roosevelt Island. The bridge heading over to Roosevelt was my first bridge. Unimpressive in span and ugly, but my first, and like any good 'First' it was gentle and easy going, so it will always be special to me. The south end of the island takes you under the Queensboro Bridge, and a stones throw away from the abandoned small pox hospital. As I rounded the north end of Roosevelt and spotted the pedestrian bridge from Randall's Island over to Manhattan, and the Triboro seemingly parallel to it just to the east, I decided I wanted to run all the bridges of Manhattan. Someday, if I kept this running thing up.
Cinco de Mayo
A week or so after the Roosevelt 10 Miler, giving important runs a title is one of the few free accessories, I headed out for a short and easy jog. I didn't have any particular distance in mind, just that it would be a couple of easy miles for a few reasons. First, I had just completed my own personal marathon with the Roosevelt 10 Miler, there was a light rain, and Lisa I had tickets to see Ben Harper and Relentless 7 debut their first album at Irving Plaza that night. As I headed south down Vernon Boulevard, past my bridge over to Roosevelt, I decided I would run to Queensboro and back home. A nice, medium run. Things went wrong at Queensboro. I decided to tack on a little more by heading further east, thinking I could take the small overpass I often saw out of the east side window of the N/W train heading home. I later learned this overpass is named Honeywell Street. I didn't find Honeywell that Cinco de Mayo. I thought I found it, but what actually I found was the Pulaski Bridge. Nor was I heading toward the N/W line as I thought. I was heading south, into Brooklyn, Greenpoint to be exact. As you come across the Pulaski there is a sign directing you west to the water front, I took this route hoping to find my bearings. By the time I hit he sign saying "This Way to Williamsburg Bridge" I had gone too far to turn back. Besides, I could notch off two bridges with one run. So I followed the signs to Williamsburg Bridge and made my way over to the city.
I love the Williamsburg Bridge. Besides the obvious great views, wide lanes marked for the appropriate flow of traffic make for a great run. To the south are the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges. Something crazy started brewing in my head as I ran over the Williamsburg. I could run three bridges. The Brooklyn Bridge wasn't that much further and I hadn't even walked the Brooklyn Bridge. That's something everyone is supposed to do. Even if you're only in the City for a few days, you go to the Brooklyn Bridge. It had a TV show named after it for goodness sake. But how to get to it? I was already admittedly lost, I couldn't get more lost. However, I had been gone for a while already. I needed to head home, the Brooklyn Bridge would have to wait for another run. But three bridges in one run was to sexy to ignore. Before I had completed the Williamsburg I was already constructing the Facebook update in my head, 'The Three Bridges Run'. The Brooklyn Bridge was out, but to get home I would have to cross the Queensboro. I could do that by train, OR, I could run and thereby challenge myself to the greatest physical endeavor of my life, and publish the all to rare, worthwhile to read, Facebook update. (Forest Gump accent please) So I went running.
For much of the east side run I had embarked upon there is spacious and safe bike lanes. But at one point the bike lane ends without warning. So I found myself running on the shoulder of the highway, on a narrow strip of concrete. Were I to slip there would be no way for a speeding car to avoid grounding me into road kill. Stupidly I continued. In fact, the danger of it didn't even occur to me until later when I was recounting the run. I survived my Running with the Bulls and trudged my way over the Queensboro Bridge. 2:28 minutes, three bridges, and three boroughs later I completed 15 miles, which is still my longest run.
To be honest the last mile up to and over the Queensboro is better called a fast walk, perhaps even a speedy limp. I was hurting bad. The walk up the stairs was slow, horrible and painful. The walk down from the train platform was worse. I don't know what I looked like after that run, but when I came up a dollar short for my raspberry/banana smoothie with a shot of protein powder at Soho Diner, the guy at the register had a bit of concern in his voice when he said, "Don't worry about it man". I sipped on my windfall as I limped the fifteen minute walk home. When I walked in the door Lisa popped up, obviously she had been far more concerned than the generous smoothie artist. I had been running for two and half hours, gone for nearly three. My runs were gauged in minutes, not hours. This was unusual to say the least. Lisa asked if I was okay, I let her know I was then recounted the route I had traveled. Lisa, my beautiful, caring wife, was impressed and then immediately concerned. "You can still go to the show tonight, right?". I assured her I could, but first I needed some ibuprofen and a nap. My legs were still lead that night and every flight of stairs were still painful, and there were many, many, flights of stairs. I had to suppress an "Ouch" with each footfall up or down. Lisa had a couple of beers while I gleefully paid $5 for 10 ounce bottles of water, and an extra dollar for a cup full of gorgeously gleaming ice cubes. The concert was great. Ben and the band only played songs from the new album, plus a few new covers. Ben said he wasn't going to revisit the old days of the Innocent Criminals, he was doing something new now. Right on. I wasn't going to go back to the nicotine stinking sloth whose body turned to lead after a 12 minute mile. I was a runner now, an endurance runner. I had taken my body beyond its limitations and kept it there for a few hours.
Just a year before the Three Bridges Run I had said to Lisa "I would literally rather hammer a nail through my toe than run 26 miles". Well, on June 26 I'm doing 26.2 with the same two guys that took me on that first three mile run, my bros-in-law, Chris (doing the half) and Andrew (doing the full, and hopefully qualifying for Boston 2011). My sis-in-law is joining in for 13 as well. We planned a vacay to Seattle so I could run 26.2 miles. Boy how times have changed.
I first started running in November of 2008 as a replacement addiction to smoking. Like many beginners I did a mile, then two, then over that Christmas I went for a run with two of my brothers-in-law for what amounted to a three miler. Three miles...consecutively. In addition to the exhilaration of not sitting on the couch, the sport of running is perfectly suited to accessorizing. I'm a hobbiest by nature. The allure of hobbies are the many tools one needs to pursue them and the lingo that attends them. Carboys, trub and secondary fermentation are just some of the delicious words from my beer making lexicon. To those I could now add negative splits, tempo run and fartlek. Mmmmmm. I was hooked. I immediately canceled my subscription to Time to make room for Runner's World and Running Times Magazine.
My miles gradually increased and in late April of '09 I broke double digits with a run to and around Roosevelt Island. The bridge heading over to Roosevelt was my first bridge. Unimpressive in span and ugly, but my first, and like any good 'First' it was gentle and easy going, so it will always be special to me. The south end of the island takes you under the Queensboro Bridge, and a stones throw away from the abandoned small pox hospital. As I rounded the north end of Roosevelt and spotted the pedestrian bridge from Randall's Island over to Manhattan, and the Triboro seemingly parallel to it just to the east, I decided I wanted to run all the bridges of Manhattan. Someday, if I kept this running thing up.
Cinco de Mayo
A week or so after the Roosevelt 10 Miler, giving important runs a title is one of the few free accessories, I headed out for a short and easy jog. I didn't have any particular distance in mind, just that it would be a couple of easy miles for a few reasons. First, I had just completed my own personal marathon with the Roosevelt 10 Miler, there was a light rain, and Lisa I had tickets to see Ben Harper and Relentless 7 debut their first album at Irving Plaza that night. As I headed south down Vernon Boulevard, past my bridge over to Roosevelt, I decided I would run to Queensboro and back home. A nice, medium run. Things went wrong at Queensboro. I decided to tack on a little more by heading further east, thinking I could take the small overpass I often saw out of the east side window of the N/W train heading home. I later learned this overpass is named Honeywell Street. I didn't find Honeywell that Cinco de Mayo. I thought I found it, but what actually I found was the Pulaski Bridge. Nor was I heading toward the N/W line as I thought. I was heading south, into Brooklyn, Greenpoint to be exact. As you come across the Pulaski there is a sign directing you west to the water front, I took this route hoping to find my bearings. By the time I hit he sign saying "This Way to Williamsburg Bridge" I had gone too far to turn back. Besides, I could notch off two bridges with one run. So I followed the signs to Williamsburg Bridge and made my way over to the city.
I love the Williamsburg Bridge. Besides the obvious great views, wide lanes marked for the appropriate flow of traffic make for a great run. To the south are the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges. Something crazy started brewing in my head as I ran over the Williamsburg. I could run three bridges. The Brooklyn Bridge wasn't that much further and I hadn't even walked the Brooklyn Bridge. That's something everyone is supposed to do. Even if you're only in the City for a few days, you go to the Brooklyn Bridge. It had a TV show named after it for goodness sake. But how to get to it? I was already admittedly lost, I couldn't get more lost. However, I had been gone for a while already. I needed to head home, the Brooklyn Bridge would have to wait for another run. But three bridges in one run was to sexy to ignore. Before I had completed the Williamsburg I was already constructing the Facebook update in my head, 'The Three Bridges Run'. The Brooklyn Bridge was out, but to get home I would have to cross the Queensboro. I could do that by train, OR, I could run and thereby challenge myself to the greatest physical endeavor of my life, and publish the all to rare, worthwhile to read, Facebook update. (Forest Gump accent please) So I went running.
For much of the east side run I had embarked upon there is spacious and safe bike lanes. But at one point the bike lane ends without warning. So I found myself running on the shoulder of the highway, on a narrow strip of concrete. Were I to slip there would be no way for a speeding car to avoid grounding me into road kill. Stupidly I continued. In fact, the danger of it didn't even occur to me until later when I was recounting the run. I survived my Running with the Bulls and trudged my way over the Queensboro Bridge. 2:28 minutes, three bridges, and three boroughs later I completed 15 miles, which is still my longest run.
To be honest the last mile up to and over the Queensboro is better called a fast walk, perhaps even a speedy limp. I was hurting bad. The walk up the stairs was slow, horrible and painful. The walk down from the train platform was worse. I don't know what I looked like after that run, but when I came up a dollar short for my raspberry/banana smoothie with a shot of protein powder at Soho Diner, the guy at the register had a bit of concern in his voice when he said, "Don't worry about it man". I sipped on my windfall as I limped the fifteen minute walk home. When I walked in the door Lisa popped up, obviously she had been far more concerned than the generous smoothie artist. I had been running for two and half hours, gone for nearly three. My runs were gauged in minutes, not hours. This was unusual to say the least. Lisa asked if I was okay, I let her know I was then recounted the route I had traveled. Lisa, my beautiful, caring wife, was impressed and then immediately concerned. "You can still go to the show tonight, right?". I assured her I could, but first I needed some ibuprofen and a nap. My legs were still lead that night and every flight of stairs were still painful, and there were many, many, flights of stairs. I had to suppress an "Ouch" with each footfall up or down. Lisa had a couple of beers while I gleefully paid $5 for 10 ounce bottles of water, and an extra dollar for a cup full of gorgeously gleaming ice cubes. The concert was great. Ben and the band only played songs from the new album, plus a few new covers. Ben said he wasn't going to revisit the old days of the Innocent Criminals, he was doing something new now. Right on. I wasn't going to go back to the nicotine stinking sloth whose body turned to lead after a 12 minute mile. I was a runner now, an endurance runner. I had taken my body beyond its limitations and kept it there for a few hours.
Just a year before the Three Bridges Run I had said to Lisa "I would literally rather hammer a nail through my toe than run 26 miles". Well, on June 26 I'm doing 26.2 with the same two guys that took me on that first three mile run, my bros-in-law, Chris (doing the half) and Andrew (doing the full, and hopefully qualifying for Boston 2011). My sis-in-law is joining in for 13 as well. We planned a vacay to Seattle so I could run 26.2 miles. Boy how times have changed.
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