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!