On Unicorn Tears and Fairy Poop

Mapped out a nice out and back course for my first ever 20 miler. The workout was run under less than ideal circumstances. As previously posted this run was to be the culmination of my peak mileage week of 5, 10, 5, 20 miles. Instead, due to a tummy illness that lasted into last week I ran my 20 after logging only one 5 mile Hill work-out.  The first half of the run went well, though I broke into a sweat much earlier than usual, I think due to the low mileage of the week. For my run I headed west on 17th all the way to the waterfront, then turned south so I could have a nice uninterrupted run along the bike path that hugs the island. These bike paths wrap around almost all of NYC. On the east side, coming from the south you can take the path up to 37th. It picks up again just past the Queensboro Bridge and runs to at least 125th Street, where you can take the Pedestrian Bridge over to Randall's Island. It goes further north but I'm not yet sure how far. I have taken the Hudson Greenway (the path's name on the west side) up to 136th, and I know that it goes beyond the George Washington Bridge. Not only is this an scenic, uninterrupted path, there are bathrooms and water fountains along the way. However, the fountains are turned off after the first freeze and not turned on again until the Parks Department is sure there will not  be another freeze. The restrooms all closed around 6 PM, but there are a couple of really nasty, Trainspotting-like Porta-Potties on the west side run that are always open. Or at least always broken into. Odd that the Porta-Potties flank the West Side Heli-Port, because the smell under the overpass that runs in front of the landing pad indicates it is clearly the preferred rest room of a great many people. It is also a nice place to take a nap after a long day of begging since the overpass offers shade all day.

I ran into some nostalgia as I headed up the east side. At Clinton street my 16 miler with Ken was remembered. That day we retraced the route that I took on my first ever long run, 'The Three Bridges Run'. Ken broke off at 34th street to meet-up with his then fiancee to buy some gifts for his grooms men. Ken and Deanna are now newlyweds and its always great to have another married couple in the circle. The run for me wasn't the eye opening revisit to the past that I had hoped it would be. I was going back to the run that started me down the endurance trail, toward the marathon I'm running NEXT weekend! YIKES! But no great thoughts came to me, nothing I even wanted to blog about. I was fitter than the previous run. My legs were stronger than that Cinco de Mayo run a year earlier. The conversation provided by Ken was great as always. Being a good conversationalist is a quality I look for in friends as I am a poor conversationalist and need the other to shoulder that responsibility. All of my good friends are talkers. The types of guys for whom 'good-bye' isn't an end, but the launch into a new talking point. I finished that run solo at the exact same spot I had a year earlier. I was leaps better than the year before, but I was short on the bounds part of the saying.

The very next street past Clinton is where I finally found my way back to where I was meant to be on another long run. I was supposed to run east to the bike path and up to Queensboro for what should have been a three mile portion of a 14 miler. But I got lost! Hours of mapping and I got lost, AGAIN! I ran under the Williamsburg Bridge going the wrong way and snaked my way through the city until I found water. You may have immediately caught on to what didn't occur to me much later. Bridges usually span water, so if you follow one in any direction you are bound to find some. I just ran under the bridge, foregoing logic in hopes of magic being a better compass. I had also brought along some unicorn tears for hydration and fairy poop for sports gel. The one thing in which my instincts did serve me well was my pace. I adjusted the route based on the time I had clocked, and when checked against the route I ended up running I was spot on for mileage. So, Yeah for me.

At about mile 16 the pain started to manifest as knots in my knees and hot lead in my thighs. I stopped to down a sports drink but forgot all about the fairy poop in my pocket. After the respite I headed back down the back path to the end point. As I neared the end of the bike path leg of the run a large woman trotted past me and my heart sank a little. But even wounded pride couldn't spur my legs to kick faster. It was cool. Way to go sister. I'll have to check 'Missed Connections' to see if she noticed lapping me.

I was so delirious from the 20 that I paid $8 for a berry shake at Pump. It was a good shake to be sure, but not $8 good. I was sore for the rest of the night and thirsty, insatiably thirsty. The next day I wore a brace on my creaky left knee. I had to work the rest of the weekend. At least I have a job that demands I stand on my feet for 10 hours at a time. It sucked, but probably went a long way toward flushing out the lactic acid.  By Saturday evening the knee was fine. Sunday morning there was still some slight soreness in the ole chicken thighs. Monday night I was ready for my Hill work with the Hellgaters. I ran slower than the week before, but faster than a couple weeks before that. I hit the accelerator as I headed up the hill for the final loop and passed a fellow Hellgater mumbling, "Man, you guys are good".  Like any good compliment whore that gave me some extra burn. Perfect timing since that final burst was icing my lungs.

The Tuesday Switch went smashing today. Sorry about the smashing line, just finished Christopher Moore's,  Fool. Which is King Lear from the perspective of Lear's fool, coming from the mind of Christopher Moore its hysterically perverse. Sharon and I met at a park near the apartment and I did some warming up in between giving the girls a push on the swing.  I did a nice, easy pace until I got to Roosevelt, where I tried to maintain marathon pace for the entire run around the island. I couldn't maintain the 8 minute pace the entire time, but I'd say I kept it there about 85% of the run, finishing with an 8:10 pace.

No more big runs coming up, topping out at 8 this Friday. I will try to avoid the very aptly named Taper Tantrums, penned by Dave Kuehls in his article Taper Traps.  This is a great article about what to avoid in the weeks right before a big race. Thanks Andrew for passing it along. I'm scared and excited about the big race on the 26th, just a week away. I would love to get under four hours, but since its my first full marathon I will PR no matter what.  If you have any advice I would love to hear it. Especially recommendations for the pre-race meal the night before.  Don't know if I'll blog again before Seattle, but I'll post something after fo'sho'.
Daddy Legs

My trip to Niagara

Haven't posted in a while because I have only ran since since last Wednesday. It all started on Friday when one of my servers had to miss work due to a family emergency. I had to take his shift which destroyed the long run of my peak miles week, a 20 miler. Turns out I would have missed the run no matter what. I started experiencing stomach cramps after everything I ate on that same day. After initial research I was horrified that I may have developed lactose intolerance. I fully want to tolerate lactose, I enthusiastically endorse lactose by the vanilla bean bowlful. This was unacceptable. I cut out the dairy just in case but the symptoms only worsened to the yuckety-yuck, poopy end of things.  I won't go into details other than a single descriptive, Niagara! It was falling in gushing torrents of brown yuckiness (sorry, I couldn't resist) By the end of the weekend I wasn't eating much and each trip to the bathroom left me feeling dehydrated. I bellied up Monday night and did my Hill work with the Hellgaters and even had a pretty good run. Later that night Niagara returned with horrible vengeance. Tuesday morning I felt like a man just out of the desert. Parched, thirsty, and hungry. Still I tried to bang out some miles but didn't even get down the block before the flood gates began tickling me bum. I called it quits and began calling around for an appointment.  Turns out I had a virus. Doc gave me some Imodium to dam up the falls and I've been on the mend since.

Wednesday and Thursday brought evening rain and late nights at work so no runs were logged. This brings us to today, Friday, June 11th. Later today I will attempt to put 20 miles on the board. I'm not sure it is at all wise or recommended to go for that distance after so many rest days, but I'ma due ma! I need this run psychologically, and I need to get it in with enough time to recover before the marathon on June 26th.  I'm nervous. I can't say I'm so nervous I could shit myself because the Imodium won't allow that. But I'm afeard. I'll post the Pain Repot later.

PS
It would sure make me feel pretty if so more people would follow along. There's a little button down at the right that makes it easy. This will be only time, out of 17 more, in which I will stoop to such beggary.

Work Out: 5/25

Med-Long + Hills
Sharon's little girl had a fever so there was no Tuesday Switch today, and I missed Monday night Hills with the Hellgaters due to Dare Project rehearsal. So I had to do my scheduled nine miles when Lisa got home from work plus the hills I missed. I must say the run went great, though the route I took was 8.4 miles, not my scheduled nine. The first two miles were slow and easy. As were the first four laps around the hill. At the fifth lap my legs were feeling stronger and my pace was getting quicker and quicker. After the hill work I take a short loop around the top of Shore Blvd before heading home on the east side of the park. This leg of the run was exhilarating. As I came under the Hellgate Bridge a charge of energy rippled up my legs causing y hairs to stand on end. Mmm, runner's high. I bogarted it all the way home. My pace got even faster. I was sprinting up the incline of 33rd Street between Astoria Blvd and 28th Ave, which is a 6% + graded elevation. It made up for the horrible runs of last week.
8.4 + Hills
Time: 1:08:32
Pace: 8:11
Feeling: Like Forrest Gump

18 Miles, An Elevator and a Train

The week started out terrible with a rushed 4 miler on Monday. Lisa had to work a tad late. I was busy getting something ready for dinner that could be easily cooked. I went with Fajita Burgers, very spicy and very good. (Fajita Burger Recipe) I needed to get my run in, eat if I go back in time, and head out for an eight o'clock rehearsal. I headed out the door for the run with no prep and I could feel it from the start. My legs didn't loosen up until the 3 mile mark, but I did get home in time for a nice burger and rehearsal went well.

A brief word about privacy
I need to address something that came up jut before this terrible 4 miler. We all have moments when our actions demand privacy. I don't refer here to moments when others should give one privacy, but rather, moments when one should excuse themselves. Lisa was telling me of her day as I hurried to changed into running gear. Feeling short on time I dropped trow and slathered on the Pro Glide. Lisa was mildly disgusted by this site and let me know that this was something I should never again do in front of her. This is probably common sense to most, but if like me you are a lack wit, please take heed of the following advice. Anti-chaffing cream should be saved for alone time. Excuse yourself form the presence of a loved one before application. If at a race, go to a Porta-Potty.

Tuesday's run was worse. There was a steady rain all day. Sharon held up to her end of the Tuesday Switch and came over so I could do my 9 miler. I had missed my Hill work with the Hellgaters due to rehearsal the previous night so I routed in the same 3.5 mile loop into my nine. The steady rain was actually refreshing, what sucked was the steadily progressive pain in my lower left shin. It felt like a bruised knot was trapped under my shin bone. I got five loops around the hill before I stopped and tried to work out the kink. I did one more loop and decided to cut the hill portion of the run. The achy shin was taking a toll on my form and by the time I headed into the return leg of the run my right knee started hurting. I cut another mile off the run and headed home. My nine had turned into a plodding and painful seven. The next day my shin hurt even more. The more I walked the more it hurt, and I do a lot of walking at work. The Wednesday workout was canceled. Thursdays are a scheduled rest day, giving me two days to recover. So I devoted Wednesday and Thursday to heavy icing, bitching and moaning. I don't know how effective the icing was but by Friday the bitching, and especially the moaning had worked wonders on my shin. I was ready to take on 18 miles and garner a new PR.

Friday was early for all in the Galaites household. Lisa needed to be out the door before eight for a 9 AM meeting. Ella and I usually arrive at day care around 11:30, but left with Lisa so I could have a shorter day of work, allowing me to get 18 in before dark. By three o'clock I was back in Queens and running toward my first 18.

lack wit |lack wit|
verb [ trans. ]
to be without or deficient in the ability to accurately discern appropriate moment for anti-chaffing cream application, or map a running route : daddy legs is a lack wit for spending hours mapping a run but only hit his target milage by accident | he is a lack wit for applying Pro Glide to inner thighs in front of his wife | Daddy Legs is lack witted for signing up for a full marathon.

The run started off well for no other reason than my shin wasn't hurting. Although the first few miles of a long run are always annoying due to the sound of sloshing water. After a mile or so the sloshing fades to white noise and becomes the promise of tepid refreshment. I plotted the run along 37th Street knowing there would be stops and starts, especially at the BQE (Bronx-Queens Expressway) overpass at Hoyt Ave and Astoria Blvd, thinking it would help control my pace. I start every long run with the mantra "run your easy runs easy". But 18 miles isn't easy, it's incredibly hard, so I should take it easy. But I didn't, I took it hard. Because as I stated earlier I am a lack-wit. In addition to not taking it easy I threw in a little extra distance. Instead of turning on Hazen and heading over to 19th Ave, I crossed over Hazen and ran up to 81st Street and looped over to 19th. My instinct not to trust my instincts proved to fortuitous as it actually brought me to the 18 mile mark. I did map out the run before hand, all I can say is please refer to lack-wit above. The most notable land mark in this area is Rikers Island, one bridge I hope to never cross. The 20th Ave running path is sandwiched between the Terry Gilliam-esque Con-Ed plant and a long row of storage units, it's not a scenic leg but offers a wide path with no interruption from 31st Street to Shore Boulevard, and about a quarter mile 2% rise. This area is also the meeting grounds for every driving school in Queens, from high schoolers to truckers.

Going Up?
The Park is probably the best area to run in Astoria. It has a lot of uninterrupted paths, rolling hills, a track, several water fountains, and two bathrooms. The only other route that rivals Astoria Park is the perimeter run around Roosevelt Island. It was the Park leg of the run when I pulled off for the first of many stops for cold sips from a water fountain and to stretch my legs, and one potty break. I was hoping the stretching would put some spring in my legs. I felt plodding the whole run, uncontrollably slow rather than purposely slow. The plodding feel got worse as I made my way around Roosevelt Island, stopping three times. THREE TIMES! I've only run once with Lisa specifically because she likes to take walk breaks during her runs. My two day bitching/moaning fest obviously did not have the recuperative effects I had thought. Completing the perimeter of Roosevelt brings you just under the Roosevelt Bridge. There are two options for getting up to, and over the bridge. Option One, the one I have taken the many dozens of times I have run this route, is to take the winding stairs. Option Two, the one I have hitherto sneered at, is to take the elevator. I took option two and the 60 second respite it offered was about 700 seconds too short.

The next stop is Broadway
As I exited Roosevelt Island I was entering mile 15 of 18, or mile 1 of the three mile toddler drag. It felt like Ella and one of her friends latched on to a leg each and demanded I drag them to the finish. (Ella is my beautiful sweet pea and the friend being dragged along would probably be her pal Ethan, whom she refers to as "My Ethan". The weekend before my longest run Lisa and Ella went to a birthday party for Ethan's little sis Samantha, referred to as "My Samantha", when Ethan and Ella weren't seen for a few minutes Lisa popped in to check on them. The two were on the bed pretending to be sleeping. The pain I was feeling during that 18 miler will seem like a walk through the park compared to Ella's teen years.) I had to talk myself out of quitting. To do so I didn't give myself inspirational words of motivation, just the horrible truth that 26.2 will be the same kind of hurt, except for longer. So I plodded on toward the Pulaski Bridge, the very same bridge that sent me into Brooklyn a year earlier and my first ever endurance run. The bridge was my turn around point, I paused to stretch and steel myself for the last mile. I dragged the toddlers back up Vernon Boulevard and turned onto 31st Ave, the sweet, beautiful end of my run. An end that came sooner than I had mapped. At 11th street the hurt overtook my will. Amazingly the little extra I had tacked on at the beginning of the run gave me exactly what I needed to reach my 18 mile goal. I pulled off to get some chocolate milk and a sports drink before heading to 31st street to catch the N train home. There was little I could do to protect my fellow passengers from my smell, 18 miles is going to produce some stink. I was polite enough to keep my arms pressed against my sides so they would not get a whiff of the pits, but thats all I could do. At least I had the decency to be embarrassed by it.

The 18 hurt, but next time it will hurt a little less. The week itself was bad in regard to workouts, mileage and weather. But 18 miles is in the book and that feels great. Next week I hit peek mileage; 5, 10, 5, and 20. So here's my question, Should I call the 20 miler 'The Andrew Jackson', or something else?

OUCH! You can see the run by clicking this link.
Milage: 18 Time: 2:51:15
Pace: 9:30 (plodder)
Feeling: Get off my leg Ella. You're too heavy!

Lay-Away

Crowded on the N train with the lucky ones heading out for a race got me to thinking about my upcoming first marathon. This sea of bobbing bibs were moments away from finally toeing the line, thereby putting long months of miles and workouts to the test. My own training started in February and will culminate in 26.2 miles of hurt on June 26. Winter into summer. For most runners training for a big race the schedule spans a season or two, which is very much like Lay-Away. In case you don't know about this pre credit card bonanza buying scheme here's the gist. You put 10-15% down on one or more items, and then pay a minimum amount every month until the items are paid off, thus the items have been laid-away. Its the never been owned version of being in hock. When I was growing-up lay-away was the modus-operandi for getting the 'back to school' wardrobe each fall. It was also the usual way of getting the big ticket Christmas items.

The beauty of Lay-Away is that it allows for folks to get something they want, but only when they can afford it. Putting a little away until the items are yours, like banking miles while building your base. The problem with lay-away in regard to clothing, is that the wardrobe is always "so last year". That was said to me once, I hope that girl is now fat and sedentary. Things can change over a season, especially the summer. What looked good against the pasty skin tone of spring may not look good against the bronzed skin from a summer of sun. And that graphic tee reading 'Meet the Dweebs', was probably better left in the prison of lay-away. Why-o-why, did I ever parole that t-shirt? Maybe that girl had a point.

Training is just like the lay-away plan. The race itself is purchased in full, but the goal set for that race is put on law-away, with payment being made daily over long months of suspended anticipation. The miles get longer as less layers of clothing are needed. And over those months the race is always on your mind, being fast forwarded and rewound, looked at from every angle. My long runs are accompanied by a sports commentator journalling the Cinderella story of a first time, 9:19 per mile marathoner reaching down deep and somehow shaving off enough time to qualify for Boston. I don't hear the voice in stereo so I'm not yet concerned about psychosis. The race will never look that good on me, so in that way its like the 'Meet the Dweebs' t-shirt sitting in lay-away, but its the goal of a sub-four marathon that I'm paying off, not a BQ'er. I still have some big installments to make. This week will be my highest mileage total to date with 4, 9, 5, and an 18 mile long run. My highest total will be a 40 mile week, with a 20 mile long run. And just like those middle-school days of lay-away when I pondered over the summer what outfit would best start off the new year, I now wonder if I should go with the Nike short-shorts paired with the gray Lulu Lemon tech-shirt, or my Hellgate Road Runners singlet. I'll pack both just to be safe.

Testing myself against 26.2 will be worth the effort of preparing regardless of my finishing time. Fortunately, a race is never "so last year", and finishing a marathon never goes out of style. Except in Pearl Izumi print ads.

Work Out: 5-11

Headed out for a med-long of 8 this morning, big shout out to Sharon for continuing the Tuesday switch even as my miles climb in length. Decided to take a little detour along the water and the Astoria PJ's. Nice run until the promenade end, forcing you to take 1st street to either 27th or 26th Avenues. I took 26th Ave, running through a small industrial part of Astoria. I ran right by the Hellgate Filming Studios, which looked like a couple of double wide trailers in front of a smoke stack factory. Though only mildly attractive, the route added some miles, for that I'm grateful. 26th Ave dead-ends, so I headed up to 27th Ave where I got back to my planned route. At Astoria Park I did 10 loops around the my usual hill route then finished up the run. The legs felt strong all the way through the run. I didn't push hard on the hill loops, but I also kept up the pace for most of the run. If you check the stats you'll see it is one of my faster times. Just adding short bursts of speed for one or two segments of every run has really helped to up my pace per mile. I thank fartleks for that. Speaking of fartleks, I have started a running group on Mapmyrun.com called The Fartlekers. If you run, anywhere, for any distance, PLEASE join up.
Happy Running

8 Mile + Hills: 8.66
Time: 1:09:59
Pace:8:08

Work Out: 5/03 or Extra Lap of Awesome

Weekly Monday work out with the Hellgate Road Runners is Hill Loops. 10 times around a .33 mile loop that has a 20% grade on the uphill side. The usual speedsters were all abscent due to the Long Island Marathon the day before, but a new guy had shown up who proved to be way to fast for me. I did maintain second position through the run, several positions closer to first than I have ever been before. The goal with this run was to push myself to run faster before the final lap. I have noticed that I have too much to burn at the end of runs due to not running hard enough in earlier segments. So tonight I started pushing it from the get go. It was beating me down and toward the end I started thinking maybe this will be the run where I push myself to puking. The runners trophy of hard work. I started imagining my fellow Hellgaters gathered around, celebrating my stomach bile and the feat of taking myself past the brink . That Chariots of Fire moment was lost when one team mate started to shoulder her way past me on the downhill segment. I had held on to the second spot for too long and wasn't going to give it. I found another gear and burned down the hill and around for another lap. My stomach turned to ice causing cold gusts of breath to get stuck in my throat. As I turned the final corner heading to my sweet bottle of water I saw that same girl that tried to shoulder past me standing by the start point. Nobody lapped me. Curses! I had run an eleventh lap. Curses because I still had not left enough on the course, until that final lap. The vomit will have to wait for another day.
Hills
10 Laps: 24:46
11 Laps: 26:56
Pace: 7:17 (based on 10 laps)
Splits: 2.25, 2.29, 2.27, 2.28, 2.24, 2.29, 2.29, 2.35, 2.34, 2.21, 2,10 (extra lap)