Through 4 weeks, I'm 3-1 in my Marathoners League. After my initial post-draft blog entry, some of you asked why I only had one Pittsburgh Pirate on my team. Well, the simple answer is, I WANT TO WIN! That being said, I did pick up Nate McLouth and he has been tearing it up for me, including 4 homers in his last 3 games.
So I've won 3 in a row after losing week 1 by less than 7 points (279.17-272.33), which was totally expected since I drafted hitters and picked up pitchers as an after thought and week 1 means that stud pitchers get 2 starts. I'm in good shape so far although I had to drop John Smoltz (my #1 pitcher) today, which was a painful decision. But he's going on the disabled list and they're talking 2-4 weeks if he doesn't end up having surgery, and even if it's only 2-4 weeks they're talking about moving him to the bullpen and I already have too many closers as it is. I know, it's a sad story, get a life, etc.
The sad truth is I spend way too much time on fantasy sports. I figure if I'm going to play then I'm going to play to win. That means staying on top of the games, doing the research, studying box scores, and making the right moves at the right time. It's surprisingly similiar to real life business decisions.
I spend enough time on this that my son has taken an interest and asked if he could have a team. So my six year old is now competing against grown men...and winning. I helped him with his draft and I obviously advise him but at the end of the day it's his team and his decisions and his winning record. I'm looking forward to letting the rest of the league know that they lost to a six year old at the end of the season.
As I write this, I'm following the Pirates vs Mets game via the internet. The Bucs are winning 8-0 in the bottom of the 5th inning, which totally, totally sucks. Why? Because I have the closer for both the Pirates and the Mets, so I need a close game so that one of them, and honestly, I don't care (that much) which one, gets a save, which is worth 10 points in my league. I know, I've heard the arguments before, how can I root against the Pirates/Steelers/Penguins? Well, it's easy. You see, I root for MY TEAM! It's not that I root against the Pirates (or whoever), per se. I really do want them to win. It's just that I want them to win by 1 or 2 runs. That way we BOTH win. Get it?
The funny thing about fantasy baseball is that I can tell you individual statistics for just about any player in the league but I honestly have absolutely no idea which teams are in first place in any particular division. It just doesn't matter from where I sit. I know that the Pirates will finish last or next to last. Same with the Reds.
Oh, allow me to digress for a moment...last week I was listening to the radio and the DJ/Announcer guy stated that all three Ohio teams won last night. He went on to say that the Reds defeated so-and-so, the Indians defeated so-and-so and the Columbus Clippers defeated the Toledo Mudhens. For the past week, I've been trying to find out what state Toledo moved to. I can't find anything on the internet. I know, I know...sarcasm is my specialty.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Rough Draft
This is a rough draft of an article I'm writing for Substream Music Press.
Welcome to Music Business 101. Let’s dive right in and talk about the one thing that every musician needs to know about the music business before they can do anything else. I call it The Approach.
As the saying goes, you only get one chance to make a first impression. This is especially true in the music business. Make a bad first impression and you might as well change the name of your band, move to a new city and hope no one remembers you so you can start from scratch.
So, how do you avoid making a bad first impression? To begin with, people in the music business (or any business) are extremely busy. Don’t waste their time. Have something to say, say it in a professional manner, and then allow them time to respond. Start with a concise email that briefly outlines who you are, what you want, and why they should care. Briefly list any achievements that might be relevant to the person you are soliciting. Be polite, courteous, and please, please, please use proper grammar. If you’re asking people to invest their time and money into your band, the least you can do is take the time to write a grammatically correct paragraph and hit spell-check.
Let’s break this down further.
Who are you? Obviously include your band name and links to your websites. You may also list any famous or semi-famous band members or previous bands that members of your current band have been members of, if they have achieved any level of professional success.
What do you want? Whether you are looking for a record deal, a booking agent, a manager, an interview, a review, or a spot on a sampler, be sure to spell out exactly why you are contacting this person or company.
Why should we care? You’re dealing with people who say “no” for a living. Your job is to give them reasons to say “yes”. Don’t blow smoke and don’t talk about how great you are going to be someday if only they will give you a chance. Instead, give them concrete reasons to pay attention to your band. How many units of your CD have you sold? How many tour dates did you play last year? Was one of your songs used on an episode of a popular TV show? Is your song in heavy rotation at your local 50,000 watt fm radio station? The goal is to get their attention. You need to have a “story” before you approach people in the music industry. If you don’t have anything that might get their attention then you probably aren’t ready to approach that person or company.
Easy enough? Good. Now, let’s turn our attention toward what not to do when approaching someone in the music business.
Never, never, never send the following email (which I received last week):
“What’s up, do you guys except demo’s?”
Honestly, this person just wasted my time and his. He took the lazy way out and tried to put the responsibility on me to write back and tell him what he needs to do. To reiterate: people in the music business are busy. It is much easier to hit “delete” when an email like this arrives than it is to respond. Give your band a fighting chance by taking the time to write a professional email.
Another email that I receive frequently is of the “our demo doesn’t do us justice” variety. If your demo doesn’t do you justice, then you shouldn’t be approaching companies at this point in your career. Wait until you have recorded material that you are proud of and then approach people in the industry.
Here’s one of my favorites. I call it the “let’s ask my girlfriend” approach. This is the email that I get from a girlfriend of the band that goes on and on telling me how great her boyfriend’s band is and how I should drop everything and sign them today. In the history of the music business, do you think a single band has ever made it big using this approach?
Finally, just a few weeks ago a band called Jadacana decided it would be a good idea to have all of their friends email me and tell me about this great new band they just saw that I just have to write about. So after their friends filled my email inbox with messages which all arrived over a three hour period on the same night, I checked out the band on myspace and determined that they were not a band that Substream fans would dig but they did ask me to write about them, so here you go. Be careful what you ask for. One concise email from a band representative listing a myspace link would have made a much stronger impression.
I know some of these examples are funny, but the sad truth is, they are all real. So remember, you only get one chance to make a first impression. Take your time, do a little research, and send a professional email when the time is right in your career to approach that person or company. Good luck, and when in doubt, spell-check.
Welcome to Music Business 101. Let’s dive right in and talk about the one thing that every musician needs to know about the music business before they can do anything else. I call it The Approach.
As the saying goes, you only get one chance to make a first impression. This is especially true in the music business. Make a bad first impression and you might as well change the name of your band, move to a new city and hope no one remembers you so you can start from scratch.
So, how do you avoid making a bad first impression? To begin with, people in the music business (or any business) are extremely busy. Don’t waste their time. Have something to say, say it in a professional manner, and then allow them time to respond. Start with a concise email that briefly outlines who you are, what you want, and why they should care. Briefly list any achievements that might be relevant to the person you are soliciting. Be polite, courteous, and please, please, please use proper grammar. If you’re asking people to invest their time and money into your band, the least you can do is take the time to write a grammatically correct paragraph and hit spell-check.
Let’s break this down further.
Who are you? Obviously include your band name and links to your websites. You may also list any famous or semi-famous band members or previous bands that members of your current band have been members of, if they have achieved any level of professional success.
What do you want? Whether you are looking for a record deal, a booking agent, a manager, an interview, a review, or a spot on a sampler, be sure to spell out exactly why you are contacting this person or company.
Why should we care? You’re dealing with people who say “no” for a living. Your job is to give them reasons to say “yes”. Don’t blow smoke and don’t talk about how great you are going to be someday if only they will give you a chance. Instead, give them concrete reasons to pay attention to your band. How many units of your CD have you sold? How many tour dates did you play last year? Was one of your songs used on an episode of a popular TV show? Is your song in heavy rotation at your local 50,000 watt fm radio station? The goal is to get their attention. You need to have a “story” before you approach people in the music industry. If you don’t have anything that might get their attention then you probably aren’t ready to approach that person or company.
Easy enough? Good. Now, let’s turn our attention toward what not to do when approaching someone in the music business.
Never, never, never send the following email (which I received last week):
“What’s up, do you guys except demo’s?”
Honestly, this person just wasted my time and his. He took the lazy way out and tried to put the responsibility on me to write back and tell him what he needs to do. To reiterate: people in the music business are busy. It is much easier to hit “delete” when an email like this arrives than it is to respond. Give your band a fighting chance by taking the time to write a professional email.
Another email that I receive frequently is of the “our demo doesn’t do us justice” variety. If your demo doesn’t do you justice, then you shouldn’t be approaching companies at this point in your career. Wait until you have recorded material that you are proud of and then approach people in the industry.
Here’s one of my favorites. I call it the “let’s ask my girlfriend” approach. This is the email that I get from a girlfriend of the band that goes on and on telling me how great her boyfriend’s band is and how I should drop everything and sign them today. In the history of the music business, do you think a single band has ever made it big using this approach?
Finally, just a few weeks ago a band called Jadacana decided it would be a good idea to have all of their friends email me and tell me about this great new band they just saw that I just have to write about. So after their friends filled my email inbox with messages which all arrived over a three hour period on the same night, I checked out the band on myspace and determined that they were not a band that Substream fans would dig but they did ask me to write about them, so here you go. Be careful what you ask for. One concise email from a band representative listing a myspace link would have made a much stronger impression.
I know some of these examples are funny, but the sad truth is, they are all real. So remember, you only get one chance to make a first impression. Take your time, do a little research, and send a professional email when the time is right in your career to approach that person or company. Good luck, and when in doubt, spell-check.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
There are no Winners in this League
Thursday night at my son's soccer practice, the kids were goofing off and the adults were trying to regain control. My beautiful wife suggested that they turn practice into a contest, that way the kids will want to win and they'll stop goofing around and start focusing on soccer. Another mom said, "Oh no, they don't encourage competition in this league," or words to that effect. My sarcastic self said something like, "Yeah, it's better for the kids to never win than to win sometimes." Everyone was quiet for a minute after that and then the grown ups went back to playing nice.
But really, the whole concept of not teaching winning and losing and competing at this age is just a bit ludicrous. These kids are 6 years old, they know if they are winning or losing. They want to win. Having the "adults" pretend that winning isn't important doesn't change the fact that these kids want to win and they get pissed when they lose. It's a natural part of life. Competing and determining Alpha.
So today the Jedi Masters played against their arch rivals, the "other" team from their school. These kids were fired up. They were focused, they were playing hard, and you better believe it, they wanted to WIN. The bad guys jumped out to an early 1-0 lead and even the parents realized that this game was for elementary school bragging rights. Never fear, the mighty Jedi Masters went on to score 6 consecutive goals to easily defeat those losers from the other team.
But don't think the losers took their medicine quietly. There was kicking, elbowing, and smack talk going on out there. Our coach had to pull our team aside at the end of the third quarter and tell them that they were not to retaliate or talk back to those losers in any way out there. Did I mention that these kids are 6 years old? Just wait until they're 10 and they're allowed to win and lose.
So the Jedi Masters move to 3-0 on the season. But you won't find their record published anywhere. You see, there are no winners in this league.
But really, the whole concept of not teaching winning and losing and competing at this age is just a bit ludicrous. These kids are 6 years old, they know if they are winning or losing. They want to win. Having the "adults" pretend that winning isn't important doesn't change the fact that these kids want to win and they get pissed when they lose. It's a natural part of life. Competing and determining Alpha.
So today the Jedi Masters played against their arch rivals, the "other" team from their school. These kids were fired up. They were focused, they were playing hard, and you better believe it, they wanted to WIN. The bad guys jumped out to an early 1-0 lead and even the parents realized that this game was for elementary school bragging rights. Never fear, the mighty Jedi Masters went on to score 6 consecutive goals to easily defeat those losers from the other team.
But don't think the losers took their medicine quietly. There was kicking, elbowing, and smack talk going on out there. Our coach had to pull our team aside at the end of the third quarter and tell them that they were not to retaliate or talk back to those losers in any way out there. Did I mention that these kids are 6 years old? Just wait until they're 10 and they're allowed to win and lose.
So the Jedi Masters move to 3-0 on the season. But you won't find their record published anywhere. You see, there are no winners in this league.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Random Boston Moments
First, everything and I mean everything about the Boston Marathon was first class. Everything was so well organized. The volunteers were enthusiastic, helpful and knowledgable (except no one seemed to know who actually won the race, my wife had to tell me). The Boston and Massachussetts State Police were totally professional during our race as well as during the Olympic Trials the day before. They were cordial and helpful and I never saw them lose their cool with anyone who didn't deserve it.
This was the first race where I was aware of blind people running. About 5 miles into the race I noticed a guy in front of me with "legally blind" written on the back of his shirt. I watched him urun for a quarter mile or so, wondering all the while if he was really blind or not, until he finally ran right into the guy running in front of him. OK, I thought, he's legit. I have no idea how he was able to stay on course. The second blind guy had a guide with him which I thought was much safer for everyone involved. But that first guy, I still don't know how he did it.
I saw Fenway Park while I was running. This is significant because many people have run Boston multiple times and have never noticed Fenway. I knew to start looking for it when I got near the giant Citgo sign and I really did have to consciously look for it, as it's not on the marathon course but near the course. Looking back, I'm surprised I even had the energy to remember to look for it, let alone find it. I was out on my feet.
Speaking of my feet. I've got blisters on my blisters. Actually, I have blisters under my toe nails, but only on my right foot. So strange. I've been draining them for days. Lovely. Damn down hills.
I hate when people dress up in costumes and run a marathon. I hate it even worse when people dress up in costumes, run a marathon, and beat me. Bastards.
Here is a photo of me with all of my super fast internet running buds. This was taken about an hour before the start of the race.
I guess that's enough about Boston. Hopefully, it's out of my system now. Except, I'll be back next year. Redemption.
This was the first race where I was aware of blind people running. About 5 miles into the race I noticed a guy in front of me with "legally blind" written on the back of his shirt. I watched him urun for a quarter mile or so, wondering all the while if he was really blind or not, until he finally ran right into the guy running in front of him. OK, I thought, he's legit. I have no idea how he was able to stay on course. The second blind guy had a guide with him which I thought was much safer for everyone involved. But that first guy, I still don't know how he did it.
I saw Fenway Park while I was running. This is significant because many people have run Boston multiple times and have never noticed Fenway. I knew to start looking for it when I got near the giant Citgo sign and I really did have to consciously look for it, as it's not on the marathon course but near the course. Looking back, I'm surprised I even had the energy to remember to look for it, let alone find it. I was out on my feet.
Speaking of my feet. I've got blisters on my blisters. Actually, I have blisters under my toe nails, but only on my right foot. So strange. I've been draining them for days. Lovely. Damn down hills.
I hate when people dress up in costumes and run a marathon. I hate it even worse when people dress up in costumes, run a marathon, and beat me. Bastards.
Here is a photo of me with all of my super fast internet running buds. This was taken about an hour before the start of the race.
I guess that's enough about Boston. Hopefully, it's out of my system now. Except, I'll be back next year. Redemption.
4/20 The Olympic Trials Women's Marathon
One of the big bonuses of running this year's Boston Marathon was that the Olympic Trials Women's Marathon would be taking place the day before. This was a genius move on the organizers part as nearly every runner and their families lined the streets to watch the Trials unfold.
The race started at 8am. I left my hotel room around 7:40 and got as close to the starting line as I could get and still have a front row view. So I catch them at about the 1/4 mile mark. It was very anti-climactic as they were still all running in one big pack and blew by me in about 10 seconds flat. All except for #43, who is about 20 yards ahead of the pack. I think to myself that she must just want to know what it feels like to have the lead in such a big race. After they pass, I walk a few blocks to where I can catch them again at mile 2. #43 is still ahead and has increased her lead. I wonder how long before she fades to the middle of the pack.
After they passed, I started walking toward the spot where all of us Running Times forumites had agreed to meet to watch the race together. It turns out that everyone had the same idea and the Mass Bridge (yep, already picking up the Boston lingo) is jam packed. I decide to skip the meeting and wait at mile 7.5. (It turns out, I really missed out by not fighting the crowds and finding my friends. They met and hungout with many legendary runners including Ryan Hall and Frank Shorter. Damn, damn, damn.) The women finally come by and #43 is still way out in front.
Next, I decide to drop by the Expo, which is just about to open, so I can try to get "the Jacket."
Again, eveyone has the same idea and there is a huge crowd right at 9am when the doors open. The line to pick up bib numbers is huge. Huge! I make my way into the Expo and thanks to some research the night before, I knew exactly where to go. I tried on a size Large, perfect fit. Placed my order and out the door. Nice.
I put on "the Jacket" and head outside just in time to catch the women coming by at mile 14. #43 is still out front with close to a 2 minute lead. Deena Kastor, the favorite, is right in the big pack that is trailing #43. About 10 minutes behind the pack, I get my first glimpse of Joan Benoit Samuelson. Sweet. She is obviously well past her prime but just seeing her out there was amazing. The crowd was going nuts. I decided that this was a s good a place as any to finish watching the race as I'd see them at mile 20 and again at mile 26.
A guy comes up beside me and we start talking. we end up hanging together for the rest of the race.
Coming up on mile 20, people around me are getting reports via cell phone that Deena Kastor has broken from the pack and is gaining on the leader. As they come around toward mile 20, #43 is still in the lead. It's getting very exciting. I hit my stop watch to time the distance between #43 and Kastor. 1:17.
Now there is a huge buzz going on all around me. The crowd has thickened in anticipation of the finish and everyone is wondering if; a) Kastor can catch #43 and b) will she even try, since the top 3 go to the Olympics, so finishing second is just as good as first, for qualifying purposes. But I figured she's a runner, which means she's competitive. She'll go for the win.
So finally, we see the police motorcade coming toward us. No one knows who is winning. Finally, we see a runner crest the hill and start running down the hill toward us. Who will it be? It's Deena Kastor! The crowd is going nuts. Deena wins, #43 finishes a strong second and I think #17 finished third.
A very exciting race, I just wish they would have posted or published the runners names and bib numbers. Unless the runner was already famous, no one really knew the names, and that was a shame. One thing we did know was that the runners bib numbers were based on qualifying times, so for the woman with the 43rd best qualifying time to be leading the race through 23 miles was quite an amazing feat to witness. I later learned that #43 is Magdalena Lewy-Boulet, and her story is a good one. The third place finisher was Blake Russell.
The race started at 8am. I left my hotel room around 7:40 and got as close to the starting line as I could get and still have a front row view. So I catch them at about the 1/4 mile mark. It was very anti-climactic as they were still all running in one big pack and blew by me in about 10 seconds flat. All except for #43, who is about 20 yards ahead of the pack. I think to myself that she must just want to know what it feels like to have the lead in such a big race. After they pass, I walk a few blocks to where I can catch them again at mile 2. #43 is still ahead and has increased her lead. I wonder how long before she fades to the middle of the pack.
After they passed, I started walking toward the spot where all of us Running Times forumites had agreed to meet to watch the race together. It turns out that everyone had the same idea and the Mass Bridge (yep, already picking up the Boston lingo) is jam packed. I decide to skip the meeting and wait at mile 7.5. (It turns out, I really missed out by not fighting the crowds and finding my friends. They met and hungout with many legendary runners including Ryan Hall and Frank Shorter. Damn, damn, damn.) The women finally come by and #43 is still way out in front.
Next, I decide to drop by the Expo, which is just about to open, so I can try to get "the Jacket."
Again, eveyone has the same idea and there is a huge crowd right at 9am when the doors open. The line to pick up bib numbers is huge. Huge! I make my way into the Expo and thanks to some research the night before, I knew exactly where to go. I tried on a size Large, perfect fit. Placed my order and out the door. Nice.
I put on "the Jacket" and head outside just in time to catch the women coming by at mile 14. #43 is still out front with close to a 2 minute lead. Deena Kastor, the favorite, is right in the big pack that is trailing #43. About 10 minutes behind the pack, I get my first glimpse of Joan Benoit Samuelson. Sweet. She is obviously well past her prime but just seeing her out there was amazing. The crowd was going nuts. I decided that this was a s good a place as any to finish watching the race as I'd see them at mile 20 and again at mile 26.
A guy comes up beside me and we start talking. we end up hanging together for the rest of the race.
Coming up on mile 20, people around me are getting reports via cell phone that Deena Kastor has broken from the pack and is gaining on the leader. As they come around toward mile 20, #43 is still in the lead. It's getting very exciting. I hit my stop watch to time the distance between #43 and Kastor. 1:17.
Now there is a huge buzz going on all around me. The crowd has thickened in anticipation of the finish and everyone is wondering if; a) Kastor can catch #43 and b) will she even try, since the top 3 go to the Olympics, so finishing second is just as good as first, for qualifying purposes. But I figured she's a runner, which means she's competitive. She'll go for the win.
So finally, we see the police motorcade coming toward us. No one knows who is winning. Finally, we see a runner crest the hill and start running down the hill toward us. Who will it be? It's Deena Kastor! The crowd is going nuts. Deena wins, #43 finishes a strong second and I think #17 finished third.
A very exciting race, I just wish they would have posted or published the runners names and bib numbers. Unless the runner was already famous, no one really knew the names, and that was a shame. One thing we did know was that the runners bib numbers were based on qualifying times, so for the woman with the 43rd best qualifying time to be leading the race through 23 miles was quite an amazing feat to witness. I later learned that #43 is Magdalena Lewy-Boulet, and her story is a good one. The third place finisher was Blake Russell.
4/19 Arrive in Boston
Just some notes that I took during day 1 in Boston.
Driving to the airport, I started thinking about the Columbus Marathon, when I qualified for Boston. That feeling of total exhaustion mixed with a euphoric feeling of accomplishment. I start to tear up and realize that "this is it."
Security pulled my bag for inspection. I knew they would since I had an empty gatorade and water bottle in my bag. I was just glad that I didn't have to explain that the empty gatorade bottle was potentially going to be used as a starting line urinal!
The flight out of Columbus was on time, and we circled downtown, which provided a very cool view of the city, COSI, the Statehouse, etc. There were quite a few runners on the plane but I didn't feel like talking.
Flying in to D.C., I saw the Jefferson, Lincoln, and Washington monuments, as well as the Capitol Building. A quick little mini-tour without having to step off the plane.
The flight from D.C. to Boston was on time and uneventful. I grabbed a cab ($31) and made it to my hotel in no time.
After checking in, I decided to head over to the race Expo and pick up my race packet and try to buy "the Jacket". The Expo is at the convention center, which looked like about a half mile walk on the map but feels much longer when I'm actually walking it. There were runners everywhere I looked and hundreds of people were already wearing "the Jacket". I walked down Boylston Street and caught my first glimpse of the finish line. Bleachers were set up everywhere and TV cameras were already in place. Lot's of hustle and bustle going on. Very cool.
I finally arrived at the Expo and the first thing I saw was a huge banner that said, "Boston is Everything, Impossible is Nothing." I let that sink in for a while.
I picked up my bib number and shirt with very little delay, then I turned and walked into the Expo and holy crap, it was "fire code violation" packed in there. It was difficult to even walk let alone try to shop or check things out. I looked around in vain for the booth that was selling "the Jacket", but no luck. I decided to come back in the morning and try again when hopefully it wouldn't be so crowded.
By 6pm I was back in my room resting and watching the Redsox game on TV. Lance Armstrong threw out the first pitch and the announcers talked about how they interviewed Lance before the game and he said that the weather was actually too warm for running, that runners like cold weather. They tried to fathom that concept for a batter or two but it just didn't compute.
I fell asleep during the second inning, woke up an inning later, iced, stretched, watched the end of the game, lights out by 10:15.
Driving to the airport, I started thinking about the Columbus Marathon, when I qualified for Boston. That feeling of total exhaustion mixed with a euphoric feeling of accomplishment. I start to tear up and realize that "this is it."
Security pulled my bag for inspection. I knew they would since I had an empty gatorade and water bottle in my bag. I was just glad that I didn't have to explain that the empty gatorade bottle was potentially going to be used as a starting line urinal!
The flight out of Columbus was on time, and we circled downtown, which provided a very cool view of the city, COSI, the Statehouse, etc. There were quite a few runners on the plane but I didn't feel like talking.
Flying in to D.C., I saw the Jefferson, Lincoln, and Washington monuments, as well as the Capitol Building. A quick little mini-tour without having to step off the plane.
The flight from D.C. to Boston was on time and uneventful. I grabbed a cab ($31) and made it to my hotel in no time.
After checking in, I decided to head over to the race Expo and pick up my race packet and try to buy "the Jacket". The Expo is at the convention center, which looked like about a half mile walk on the map but feels much longer when I'm actually walking it. There were runners everywhere I looked and hundreds of people were already wearing "the Jacket". I walked down Boylston Street and caught my first glimpse of the finish line. Bleachers were set up everywhere and TV cameras were already in place. Lot's of hustle and bustle going on. Very cool.
I finally arrived at the Expo and the first thing I saw was a huge banner that said, "Boston is Everything, Impossible is Nothing." I let that sink in for a while.
I picked up my bib number and shirt with very little delay, then I turned and walked into the Expo and holy crap, it was "fire code violation" packed in there. It was difficult to even walk let alone try to shop or check things out. I looked around in vain for the booth that was selling "the Jacket", but no luck. I decided to come back in the morning and try again when hopefully it wouldn't be so crowded.
By 6pm I was back in my room resting and watching the Redsox game on TV. Lance Armstrong threw out the first pitch and the announcers talked about how they interviewed Lance before the game and he said that the weather was actually too warm for running, that runners like cold weather. They tried to fathom that concept for a batter or two but it just didn't compute.
I fell asleep during the second inning, woke up an inning later, iced, stretched, watched the end of the game, lights out by 10:15.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Boston Marathon
Because they seed runners based on qualifying times, as soon as we cross the starting line we begin running at race pace. The race begins with a big down hill and I concentrate on running softly, trying to lessen the impact on my legs. At the same time, I'm looking around, taking it all in. This is it. I'm running Boston. Two years of hard work and today is the reward. I ease my way toward the side of the road and start high fiving all the little kids who are lined up along the course. The sun is out and as we'll soon learn, there is very little shade along this course. I have the sunburn to prove it. Still, it is pretty good running weather, low 50's with a gentle head wind.
I run the first mile in 8:05 and then rattle off consecutive 7:56's for each of the next 3 miles. I'm not feeling very strong and I have a feeling I'm in for a long day but I figure if I can keep running at this pace I'll be in line for a 3:30 race. I'm certainly not huffing and puffing but I'm not feeling great either. The course is exactly as my friend described it. Rolling hills. Little to no straight aways. I start wondering if there is anywhere in Columbus where I could train that would help me prepare for this.
We run through Ashland, the second in a series of small towns along the route. I'm amazed at how many people are lining the streets and cheering us on. It's a big party. Some people are drinking beer, the smell of barbeque is in the air, bands are playing. Others are actively supporting the runners. Handing out orange wedges, water, sponges, ice, jelly beans, gummie bears, popsicles, beer. It's like this for the entire 26.2 miles. I've never experienced anything like it. The crowd is estimated to be over 500,000 people strong over the length of the course, and I believe it. It is a 26 mile wall of people. Amazing.
My splits remain pretty steady through 7 miles but then begin to slip a few seconds (and sometimes much more) each mile over the next 19 miles. By mile 9, my quads are already sore, even though I've been trying to take it easy. The real hills, the big ones, don't start until mile 16, I begin mentally preparing myself for a tough afternoon. On the bright side, the pain in my quads was trumping the pain in my butt, so I hardly felt any pain back there for most of the race.
Around mile 12 I started to hear it. The famous Wellesley scream. Soon, we rounded a bend and there they were. The girls of Wellesley College, screaming their heads off. As luck would have it, I was on the right side of the road so I high fived about 300 girls as I ran by while dodging the guys who stopped for kisses. Right past Wellesley we hit the 13.1 mile mark, which clocked me at 1:47:38. Not too bad, but I knew my fastest miles were long behind me.
At the aid station just past the 14 mile marker, I grabbed a cup of Gatorade and then made my way to the side of the road and walked for about 10 seconds while I drank it. I knew the hills were coming up and I really needed to give my quads a brief break. It would be the first of many walk breaks today. Before I knew it, I was at mile 16 and the start of our ascent.
I took the first hill slow and steady and made it up just fine. I had been told that although the hills are tough, there is adequate time in between each hill for you to catch your breath and prepare for the next one. I found this to be true. I made it up the second hill with no problem and started preparing for the third hill, which is longer than Heartbreak Hill, which would be the fourth and final hill. Hill number three was tough. It just kept going and going. A lot of guys were walking. I was determined to press on. Although I did walk through another aid station once I reached the top because I knew I was going to need all the energy I could muster to conquer Heartbreak Hill.
At this point, I started thinking about how long the miles were getting, how much farther apart they seemed. I'm definitely hurting. It seems like I'm never going to reach the 20 mile marker. Finally, I see it. It won't be long now. I run around a bend and bang, there it is, Heartbreak Hill. This is the one I've heard so much about. This is the one that can break you. Again, there are a lot of people walking up the hill. No way, not me. I've come this far, I'm running up that hill. I take a deep breath and start inching my way up the hill. I feel so slow, my feet so heavy. A kid reaches out and hands me a cold, wet sponge. Pure joy. I wipe my face and neck and splash what's left down the back of my shirt. The crowd here is really encouraging the runners. They really help me get to the top. Moral victory.
I get a small energy boost, having made it through the legendary hills, and I start down hill, exhausted, on fumes, everything becoming a blur. Then, just when I needed it, Boston College. The crowd here is awesome, very vocal and supportive. It helps that there are TV cameras here that they are reacting to. But in my mind, they are cheering for me.
I make it to mile 22 and then I can't remember if I'm on mile 23 or 24. At this point, my quads are throbbing so hard that it feels like they are literally going to break right through my skin. I start walking for about 50 yards while I try to massage the quads. It helps a little bit and when I start running again I feel pretty good, briefly. Somewhere in here I get my first glimpse of the famous Citgo sign and I know that the end is near but that the sign is still a couple of miles away.
Mile 24, getting near downtown Boston. The crowds are becoming thicker with every step. I'm barely hanging on. I'm having a conversation with myself. I know that if I just keep pushing I'll finish in under 4:00. A sub 4:00 Boston? I can live with that. Another part of me is saying screw sub 4:00. Walk it in. Suddenly, my hamstring cramps. I pull up and start walking while trying to massage the cramp out. The crowd is yelling, pushing me on, telling me to fight through it, work it out, you got it. A medic comes over and asks if I'm alright. I tell him it's just a cramp. A guy in the crowd looks me right in the eyes and says, "you've got this, 8325, you've got it." As if by magic, the cramp disappears and I start running again. The crowd reacts. I start pushing, determined to reach the finish line. Getting closer with each step. I'm going to do this.
Mile 25. Are you kidding me? Who put that hill there? There is no way, no way I can run up this hill without cramping up again. I'm barely hanging on. I suck up my pride and start walking up the hill. It only takes 30 seconds or so and as I get to the top another runner who has been walking beside me pats me on the back and we start running it in. I run around the bend and I see the convention center. We are so close. I hear a friend yelling my name but I don't have the strength to ackowledge him. I turn the corner onto Boylston and I can see it. The finish line. It's probably about a half mile away but it's there. I try to pick up the pace but I'm so close to cramping with every step that I just can't risk going any faster. I coast toward the finish line, soaking it all in. This is what I trained for. Soak it in. The crowd, the TV cameras, the flags, the police, the fire trucks. BOSTON! With about 100 meters to go I hear my name over the PA system. Sweet. That's the first time I've ever heard my name called during a race. The finish line...arms up for the camera...victory, 3:54:56.
I run the first mile in 8:05 and then rattle off consecutive 7:56's for each of the next 3 miles. I'm not feeling very strong and I have a feeling I'm in for a long day but I figure if I can keep running at this pace I'll be in line for a 3:30 race. I'm certainly not huffing and puffing but I'm not feeling great either. The course is exactly as my friend described it. Rolling hills. Little to no straight aways. I start wondering if there is anywhere in Columbus where I could train that would help me prepare for this.
We run through Ashland, the second in a series of small towns along the route. I'm amazed at how many people are lining the streets and cheering us on. It's a big party. Some people are drinking beer, the smell of barbeque is in the air, bands are playing. Others are actively supporting the runners. Handing out orange wedges, water, sponges, ice, jelly beans, gummie bears, popsicles, beer. It's like this for the entire 26.2 miles. I've never experienced anything like it. The crowd is estimated to be over 500,000 people strong over the length of the course, and I believe it. It is a 26 mile wall of people. Amazing.
My splits remain pretty steady through 7 miles but then begin to slip a few seconds (and sometimes much more) each mile over the next 19 miles. By mile 9, my quads are already sore, even though I've been trying to take it easy. The real hills, the big ones, don't start until mile 16, I begin mentally preparing myself for a tough afternoon. On the bright side, the pain in my quads was trumping the pain in my butt, so I hardly felt any pain back there for most of the race.
Around mile 12 I started to hear it. The famous Wellesley scream. Soon, we rounded a bend and there they were. The girls of Wellesley College, screaming their heads off. As luck would have it, I was on the right side of the road so I high fived about 300 girls as I ran by while dodging the guys who stopped for kisses. Right past Wellesley we hit the 13.1 mile mark, which clocked me at 1:47:38. Not too bad, but I knew my fastest miles were long behind me.
At the aid station just past the 14 mile marker, I grabbed a cup of Gatorade and then made my way to the side of the road and walked for about 10 seconds while I drank it. I knew the hills were coming up and I really needed to give my quads a brief break. It would be the first of many walk breaks today. Before I knew it, I was at mile 16 and the start of our ascent.
I took the first hill slow and steady and made it up just fine. I had been told that although the hills are tough, there is adequate time in between each hill for you to catch your breath and prepare for the next one. I found this to be true. I made it up the second hill with no problem and started preparing for the third hill, which is longer than Heartbreak Hill, which would be the fourth and final hill. Hill number three was tough. It just kept going and going. A lot of guys were walking. I was determined to press on. Although I did walk through another aid station once I reached the top because I knew I was going to need all the energy I could muster to conquer Heartbreak Hill.
At this point, I started thinking about how long the miles were getting, how much farther apart they seemed. I'm definitely hurting. It seems like I'm never going to reach the 20 mile marker. Finally, I see it. It won't be long now. I run around a bend and bang, there it is, Heartbreak Hill. This is the one I've heard so much about. This is the one that can break you. Again, there are a lot of people walking up the hill. No way, not me. I've come this far, I'm running up that hill. I take a deep breath and start inching my way up the hill. I feel so slow, my feet so heavy. A kid reaches out and hands me a cold, wet sponge. Pure joy. I wipe my face and neck and splash what's left down the back of my shirt. The crowd here is really encouraging the runners. They really help me get to the top. Moral victory.
I get a small energy boost, having made it through the legendary hills, and I start down hill, exhausted, on fumes, everything becoming a blur. Then, just when I needed it, Boston College. The crowd here is awesome, very vocal and supportive. It helps that there are TV cameras here that they are reacting to. But in my mind, they are cheering for me.
I make it to mile 22 and then I can't remember if I'm on mile 23 or 24. At this point, my quads are throbbing so hard that it feels like they are literally going to break right through my skin. I start walking for about 50 yards while I try to massage the quads. It helps a little bit and when I start running again I feel pretty good, briefly. Somewhere in here I get my first glimpse of the famous Citgo sign and I know that the end is near but that the sign is still a couple of miles away.
Mile 24, getting near downtown Boston. The crowds are becoming thicker with every step. I'm barely hanging on. I'm having a conversation with myself. I know that if I just keep pushing I'll finish in under 4:00. A sub 4:00 Boston? I can live with that. Another part of me is saying screw sub 4:00. Walk it in. Suddenly, my hamstring cramps. I pull up and start walking while trying to massage the cramp out. The crowd is yelling, pushing me on, telling me to fight through it, work it out, you got it. A medic comes over and asks if I'm alright. I tell him it's just a cramp. A guy in the crowd looks me right in the eyes and says, "you've got this, 8325, you've got it." As if by magic, the cramp disappears and I start running again. The crowd reacts. I start pushing, determined to reach the finish line. Getting closer with each step. I'm going to do this.
Mile 25. Are you kidding me? Who put that hill there? There is no way, no way I can run up this hill without cramping up again. I'm barely hanging on. I suck up my pride and start walking up the hill. It only takes 30 seconds or so and as I get to the top another runner who has been walking beside me pats me on the back and we start running it in. I run around the bend and I see the convention center. We are so close. I hear a friend yelling my name but I don't have the strength to ackowledge him. I turn the corner onto Boylston and I can see it. The finish line. It's probably about a half mile away but it's there. I try to pick up the pace but I'm so close to cramping with every step that I just can't risk going any faster. I coast toward the finish line, soaking it all in. This is what I trained for. Soak it in. The crowd, the TV cameras, the flags, the police, the fire trucks. BOSTON! With about 100 meters to go I hear my name over the PA system. Sweet. That's the first time I've ever heard my name called during a race. The finish line...arms up for the camera...victory, 3:54:56.
Pre-Race
I have a ton of stuff that I wrote while I was in Boston and I'll post it as time permits, but I wanted to write about the race while it is fresh in my mind. I'll start with the pre-race and then I'll post about the actual race as soon as I have time. Here you go:
Pre-race
I walk over to Boston Common at 6am to catch a bus to the starting line. I’m surprisingly calm since I know that I won’t be “racing” but merely “running” this one. There are buses lined up as far as the eye can see. The buses are full so I pick the shortest line and wait for the second wave of buses. Minutes later, I’m on a bus and we’re off. They’re going to drive us 26.2 miles away and then make us run back. There is a convoy of buses being led by a police motorcade and the police are blocking traffic at every intersection to allow us to drive through. I could get used to this. It is obvious that this race is a big deal.
It takes about an hour for us to arrive at the Athlete’s Village, in Hopkinton. We walk down a road and around a school building and into the village. Several huge, circus size tents are set up and runners are already staking their claim to their own little resting spot in the village. I grab a bagel and a cup of Gatorade and slowly wander the length of the village. I have a couple of hours to kill before the race starts so I pull out my $3 pool raft, place it on the ground and decide to chill out under one of the big tents. In an effort to avoid further aggravating my piriformis (ass) injury, I decide to lie down on my stomach. I actually fall asleep briefly until some guy from Marathonfoto.com decides he wants to take my picture. Dude, I’m resting.
Time passes slowly, I hit the porta-john a few times and finally it is time to meet up with some friends from the Running Times Marathoners internet forum. I walk over to the meeting place and there are probably 20 runners there already. I quickly meet a half dozen or so runners who I’ve talked to for years online but am finally meeting in person. We talk race strategy and one guy tells me to take it easy through the first eleven miles or so because although it is a “net” downhill, it is actually steady rolling hills the entire way. I explain my injury and tell him that I’ll be “taking it easy” for the first 25 or so but his advice turned out to be very solid.
My friend Lisa shows up, better late than never, and it turns out that she is also fighting an injury and her and another runner are planning to start with the second wave and try to run a comfortable 3:37 or so. She invites me to join them and it is tempting but I finally decide to stick with my wave one start time, partially because I might need the extra half hour to get to the airport on time and partially because I don’t even know if I have a “comfortable 3:37” in me, and I didn’t want to hold them back. (They ended up running a 3:45, so yeah, I would have held them back). She makes a point of showing me her shoe, which is signed by Ryan Hall, my running hero. Yep, I’m just a little bit jealous. I tell her she’s crazy to be running in that shoe.
We pose for countless group photos and then it is time to check our bags and head for the corrals. As we walk toward the corrals, the elite women’s race is about to begin. Over the PA system, I can hear the announcers talking about how Senator John Kerry will be the official starter for the women’s race. Also, the three women who qualified for the Olympics the day before are in attendance. Again, I get the feeling that this race is a big deal. One last stop at the porta-john and then it’s time to head to the corral. I’m assigned to corral 8, which means there are 8000 runners lined up in front of me. They announce that there are several previous Boston Marathon winners racing this year. Everyone claps, time starts speeding up. Star Spangled Banner, complete with military fly-over, and holy crap, the starting gun.
It takes close to 5 minutes just to get to the starting line and I try to take in as much of my surroundings as possible. TV cameras everywhere, helicopters, famous athletes and politicians. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. Finally, we reach the starting line. I hit the timer on my watch and we’re off.
Pre-race
I walk over to Boston Common at 6am to catch a bus to the starting line. I’m surprisingly calm since I know that I won’t be “racing” but merely “running” this one. There are buses lined up as far as the eye can see. The buses are full so I pick the shortest line and wait for the second wave of buses. Minutes later, I’m on a bus and we’re off. They’re going to drive us 26.2 miles away and then make us run back. There is a convoy of buses being led by a police motorcade and the police are blocking traffic at every intersection to allow us to drive through. I could get used to this. It is obvious that this race is a big deal.
It takes about an hour for us to arrive at the Athlete’s Village, in Hopkinton. We walk down a road and around a school building and into the village. Several huge, circus size tents are set up and runners are already staking their claim to their own little resting spot in the village. I grab a bagel and a cup of Gatorade and slowly wander the length of the village. I have a couple of hours to kill before the race starts so I pull out my $3 pool raft, place it on the ground and decide to chill out under one of the big tents. In an effort to avoid further aggravating my piriformis (ass) injury, I decide to lie down on my stomach. I actually fall asleep briefly until some guy from Marathonfoto.com decides he wants to take my picture. Dude, I’m resting.
Time passes slowly, I hit the porta-john a few times and finally it is time to meet up with some friends from the Running Times Marathoners internet forum. I walk over to the meeting place and there are probably 20 runners there already. I quickly meet a half dozen or so runners who I’ve talked to for years online but am finally meeting in person. We talk race strategy and one guy tells me to take it easy through the first eleven miles or so because although it is a “net” downhill, it is actually steady rolling hills the entire way. I explain my injury and tell him that I’ll be “taking it easy” for the first 25 or so but his advice turned out to be very solid.
My friend Lisa shows up, better late than never, and it turns out that she is also fighting an injury and her and another runner are planning to start with the second wave and try to run a comfortable 3:37 or so. She invites me to join them and it is tempting but I finally decide to stick with my wave one start time, partially because I might need the extra half hour to get to the airport on time and partially because I don’t even know if I have a “comfortable 3:37” in me, and I didn’t want to hold them back. (They ended up running a 3:45, so yeah, I would have held them back). She makes a point of showing me her shoe, which is signed by Ryan Hall, my running hero. Yep, I’m just a little bit jealous. I tell her she’s crazy to be running in that shoe.
We pose for countless group photos and then it is time to check our bags and head for the corrals. As we walk toward the corrals, the elite women’s race is about to begin. Over the PA system, I can hear the announcers talking about how Senator John Kerry will be the official starter for the women’s race. Also, the three women who qualified for the Olympics the day before are in attendance. Again, I get the feeling that this race is a big deal. One last stop at the porta-john and then it’s time to head to the corral. I’m assigned to corral 8, which means there are 8000 runners lined up in front of me. They announce that there are several previous Boston Marathon winners racing this year. Everyone claps, time starts speeding up. Star Spangled Banner, complete with military fly-over, and holy crap, the starting gun.
It takes close to 5 minutes just to get to the starting line and I try to take in as much of my surroundings as possible. TV cameras everywhere, helicopters, famous athletes and politicians. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. Finally, we reach the starting line. I hit the timer on my watch and we’re off.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
What's Up, Doc?
I emailed my doctor last night about the pain in my butt and being a runner/marathoner/Boston Marathoner himself, he understood the urgency of my situation and squeezed me in for an appointment today. He said it seemed like more of a hamstring injury than Piriformis Syndrome. He isolated the areas that were the most painful and then performed Active Release Technique (ART), which is basically a deep tissue massage where he worked out the tight areas and relieved the pressure. I have to say, the results were nearly instantaneous. Right now, I have one tiny spot that hurts but other than that I feel pretty darn good. He told me to keep icing and icing and icing, and also gave me a couple of hamstring stretches that I need to do to keep it from tightening up again. He said there is no risk of long term damage if I run, it's just a matter of how much pain I'm willing to run through. So there you go. See you in Boston, I guess.
Oh, and he gave me a lead on a really good Italian restaurant in Boston. Cha-ching.
Oh, and he gave me a lead on a really good Italian restaurant in Boston. Cha-ching.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My Sorry Ass
So my sore butt saga continues. It's much better than it was on Monday but I still have a way to go yet. Ice (frozen peas), ibuprofen, and The Stick seem to be helping. I was able to sleep last night which I'm sure helped quite a bit. The previous two nights found me waking up frequently, trying to find a sleeping position that didn't hurt. The pain basically runs from my butt all the way down my hamstring, stopping just short of behind the knee. At this point, it is mostly just very tender through the hamstring with some intermittent pain along the butt bone.
I checked the Boston Athletic Association website last night and I can take an injury deferment if necessary and race in '09 instead. But who wants to do that? Honestly, I think I'm going to be able to run but it sure would be a much easier decision if the pain was either much worse or much better. It's this "yeah it's pretty sore but I think I might be able to do it" kind of pain that is the worst.
I checked the Boston Athletic Association website last night and I can take an injury deferment if necessary and race in '09 instead. But who wants to do that? Honestly, I think I'm going to be able to run but it sure would be a much easier decision if the pain was either much worse or much better. It's this "yeah it's pretty sore but I think I might be able to do it" kind of pain that is the worst.
If the shoe fits, cheap fits, and two year old fits
I've spent the last 10 days trying to find my six year old a pair of soccer cleats that fit. Target, which has always come through in the past, seems to have stopped carrying cleats and all they had left was 5 or 6 pair in the clearance bin, all of which were black with pink stripes. Obviously, that would never do. So we tried baseball cleats. Size one was way too small, size two was way too big. I feel your pain, Goldilocks. So this morning I started calling around and found a place that had his size in stock and they agreed to hold them for me. So my two year old and I ventured out and 30 minutes later we had soccer cleats! They better fit.
Next stop, the Thrift Store. I needed to find some "throw away" clothes for my race on Monday. Buses transport us from downtown Boston to Hopkinton for the start of the race. We have to catch the bus at 6:00 a.m. but the race doesn't start until 10:00 a.m. So that leaves several hours of sitting around outside in the cold waiting for the race to start. Thus, the need for some cheap, warm clothes that I can discard at the starting line and not have to worry about ever again. (I also picked up a $3 inflatable pool raft for me to relax on at the Athlete's Village until it is time to move to the corrals, but I digress.) So I'm looking for sweat pants and a sweat shirt and apparently they sell everything except what I'm looking for at this particular store. Or maybe men just wear their sweats until they are full of holes and unsellable.
Meanwhile, my two year old is running all over the store, checking out every area except for the men's area. So I finally have to pick him up and carry him across the store so I can shop. He starts screaming but then he sees toys and everything is fine. So he starts playing with toys and I finally start looking for clothes. I'm keeping an eye on him and he is never out of my sight line. Nevertheless, all of a sudden there is an announcement over the P.A. system about not leaving children unattended. Now everyone is looking around trying to locate the "bad parent." Long story short, I can't find a single pair of sweats in the men's area so I look in the boys area and jackpot. A perfect fit for $1.00. So now I have pants but no shirt. I go back over to the men's area and somehow find a wind shirt from the Glass City Marathon, in my size. Again, $1.00. So for $2.65, including tax, I have my throw aways. Excellent.
The final task was to get my two year old away from the toys and to the front of the store so that we could check out. I'll call this task "Mission Impossible." He's playing with this little toy flashlight and I figure for 50 cents I can bribe him to the front of the store by asking him if he wants to take that toy home. Nope. He just wants to keep playing. After waiting...and waiting...and waiting, I finally had to pick him up and carry him to the front. He is screaming and crying the entire way. I set him down so that I can pay for the clothes and he bolts for the front door. I grab him and take him back to the register and now he is REALLY screaming. I somehow manage to complete my transaction and I carry him outside and to the car. Once I sit him down in his car seat he'll be fine, right? Right. He refuses to sit down, flops out of his seat and sits in a corner of the van crying his eyes out. I decide to let him get it all out. After a couple of minutes he lets me pick him up but he continues to cry for another minute or two while I walk him around the parking lot. Finally, I get him in his seat and pull out of the parking lot. Suddenly, he starts screaming again. He wants his shoes put back on. I pull over, put his shoes on and pull back out. He continues to cry the entire way home. I have never seen him like this. When we get home, he sits down in the garage and doesn't want to come in the house. He's pissed. So I leave the door open and after a minute he comes in, asks for a juice box and a bagel with cream cheese and he's back to being himself. Like nothing ever happened.
Note to self; Always, always, always keep snacks in the car.
Next stop, the Thrift Store. I needed to find some "throw away" clothes for my race on Monday. Buses transport us from downtown Boston to Hopkinton for the start of the race. We have to catch the bus at 6:00 a.m. but the race doesn't start until 10:00 a.m. So that leaves several hours of sitting around outside in the cold waiting for the race to start. Thus, the need for some cheap, warm clothes that I can discard at the starting line and not have to worry about ever again. (I also picked up a $3 inflatable pool raft for me to relax on at the Athlete's Village until it is time to move to the corrals, but I digress.) So I'm looking for sweat pants and a sweat shirt and apparently they sell everything except what I'm looking for at this particular store. Or maybe men just wear their sweats until they are full of holes and unsellable.
Meanwhile, my two year old is running all over the store, checking out every area except for the men's area. So I finally have to pick him up and carry him across the store so I can shop. He starts screaming but then he sees toys and everything is fine. So he starts playing with toys and I finally start looking for clothes. I'm keeping an eye on him and he is never out of my sight line. Nevertheless, all of a sudden there is an announcement over the P.A. system about not leaving children unattended. Now everyone is looking around trying to locate the "bad parent." Long story short, I can't find a single pair of sweats in the men's area so I look in the boys area and jackpot. A perfect fit for $1.00. So now I have pants but no shirt. I go back over to the men's area and somehow find a wind shirt from the Glass City Marathon, in my size. Again, $1.00. So for $2.65, including tax, I have my throw aways. Excellent.
The final task was to get my two year old away from the toys and to the front of the store so that we could check out. I'll call this task "Mission Impossible." He's playing with this little toy flashlight and I figure for 50 cents I can bribe him to the front of the store by asking him if he wants to take that toy home. Nope. He just wants to keep playing. After waiting...and waiting...and waiting, I finally had to pick him up and carry him to the front. He is screaming and crying the entire way. I set him down so that I can pay for the clothes and he bolts for the front door. I grab him and take him back to the register and now he is REALLY screaming. I somehow manage to complete my transaction and I carry him outside and to the car. Once I sit him down in his car seat he'll be fine, right? Right. He refuses to sit down, flops out of his seat and sits in a corner of the van crying his eyes out. I decide to let him get it all out. After a couple of minutes he lets me pick him up but he continues to cry for another minute or two while I walk him around the parking lot. Finally, I get him in his seat and pull out of the parking lot. Suddenly, he starts screaming again. He wants his shoes put back on. I pull over, put his shoes on and pull back out. He continues to cry the entire way home. I have never seen him like this. When we get home, he sits down in the garage and doesn't want to come in the house. He's pissed. So I leave the door open and after a minute he comes in, asks for a juice box and a bagel with cream cheese and he's back to being himself. Like nothing ever happened.
Note to self; Always, always, always keep snacks in the car.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Insert Butt Jokes Here
Just thought I'd share some info about my sore butt. "My ass hurts...Why does my ass hurt?"
The piriformis syndrome is a condition in which the piriformis muscle irritates the sciatic nerve, causing pain in the buttocks and referring pain along the course of the sciatic nerve. This referred pain, called "sciatica", often goes down the back of the thigh and/or into the lower back. Patients generally complain of pain deep in the buttocks, which is made worse by sitting, climbing stairs, or performing squats. The piriformis muscle assists in abducting and laterally rotating the thigh.
So yes, I'll be spending time sitting on bags of frozen peas this week. The above link also included some good stretches that I can try to help loosen this baby up. Too many jokes.
The piriformis syndrome is a condition in which the piriformis muscle irritates the sciatic nerve, causing pain in the buttocks and referring pain along the course of the sciatic nerve. This referred pain, called "sciatica", often goes down the back of the thigh and/or into the lower back. Patients generally complain of pain deep in the buttocks, which is made worse by sitting, climbing stairs, or performing squats. The piriformis muscle assists in abducting and laterally rotating the thigh.
So yes, I'll be spending time sitting on bags of frozen peas this week. The above link also included some good stretches that I can try to help loosen this baby up. Too many jokes.
Jehovah Help Us
The Jehovah Witness folks dropped by today. Suffice to say, those people just don't get sarcasm. They were kind enough to leave me with some reading material, some of which I thought I'd share. Here goes:
Where Did We Come From?
Why does the answer matter? Many people are taught that life on earth emerged by accident. They are told that through a series of unlikely, random events, evolution produced the human race with all its emotional, intellectual, and spiritual capacities.
But consider: If we really are the product of evolution and there is no Creator, the human race would, in a sense, be an orphan. Mankind would have no source of superior wisdom to consult-no one to help us solve our problems. We would have to rely on human wisdom to avert environmental disaster, to solve political conflicts, and to guide us through our personal crises.
Do these prospects bring you peace of mind? If not, contemplate the alternative. Not only is it more appealing but it also makes more sense.
OK. Let's review, shall we? As far as I can tell, they don't want to believe in evolution because that would make them "...in a sense...an orphan." That's it? That's their argument? Sign me up! But they continue by saying that if there is no "Creator" then we would have no source of superior wisdom to consult. Help me out here people, when was the last time your creator laid any superior wisdom on you? All of my superior wisdom comes from that there book learning. Further, there is no creator who is somehow averting environmental disaster, solving political conflicts, guiding us through our personal crises. Nothing could be further from the truth. When it comes to these things, we're on our own, believers and scientists alike. Honest to God (no pun intended), what are these people talking about? And as far as contemplating the alternative, it might be more appealing to you, but don't try to tell me it makes more sense. It makes no sense. None.
All this, and I'm only on page 4 of their "literature." I almost feel bad for these people. Honestly, maybe some of us didn't evolve.
Where Did We Come From?
Why does the answer matter? Many people are taught that life on earth emerged by accident. They are told that through a series of unlikely, random events, evolution produced the human race with all its emotional, intellectual, and spiritual capacities.
But consider: If we really are the product of evolution and there is no Creator, the human race would, in a sense, be an orphan. Mankind would have no source of superior wisdom to consult-no one to help us solve our problems. We would have to rely on human wisdom to avert environmental disaster, to solve political conflicts, and to guide us through our personal crises.
Do these prospects bring you peace of mind? If not, contemplate the alternative. Not only is it more appealing but it also makes more sense.
OK. Let's review, shall we? As far as I can tell, they don't want to believe in evolution because that would make them "...in a sense...an orphan." That's it? That's their argument? Sign me up! But they continue by saying that if there is no "Creator" then we would have no source of superior wisdom to consult. Help me out here people, when was the last time your creator laid any superior wisdom on you? All of my superior wisdom comes from that there book learning. Further, there is no creator who is somehow averting environmental disaster, solving political conflicts, guiding us through our personal crises. Nothing could be further from the truth. When it comes to these things, we're on our own, believers and scientists alike. Honest to God (no pun intended), what are these people talking about? And as far as contemplating the alternative, it might be more appealing to you, but don't try to tell me it makes more sense. It makes no sense. None.
All this, and I'm only on page 4 of their "literature." I almost feel bad for these people. Honestly, maybe some of us didn't evolve.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
A Real Pain in the Butt
I went out for a 10 mile run today, 8 days before Boston, and I'm cruising right along through mile 5 when all of a sudden I feel this pain in my left butt cheek. It had been there during Friday's run but I didn't think much of it at the time. Suddenly, during mile 6 I'm actually considering halting the run because my butt hurts. Stop laughing. I fought through it and around mile 8 it started raining and then it turned to sleet. Ouch. Sleet hurts when you're running into it. Made me forget about my sore butt for a minute.
So here I am, a week away from Boston and I have to figure out how to heal a sore butt. It's always something. As my father-in-law would say, "my ass hurts...why does my ass hurt?"
It might be time to bust out the frozen peas. Stop laughing.
I get home from my run and my two year old comes running over to me for a hug. I'm soaking wet with sweat and rain and he comments on how wet I am and walks away. Ten seconds later, he's back, with a napkin and he starts trying to dry me off. Too funny. He's my "small" cutie pie.
So here I am, a week away from Boston and I have to figure out how to heal a sore butt. It's always something. As my father-in-law would say, "my ass hurts...why does my ass hurt?"
It might be time to bust out the frozen peas. Stop laughing.
I get home from my run and my two year old comes running over to me for a hug. I'm soaking wet with sweat and rain and he comments on how wet I am and walks away. Ten seconds later, he's back, with a napkin and he starts trying to dry me off. Too funny. He's my "small" cutie pie.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Jedi Masters
My six year old had his first soccer game of the spring season this morning. In the fall, his team was all about socializing and the kids weren't really that excited about actually playing the games. It was way more fun to goof off on the sidelines with your classmates. So I wasn't expecting much today. I was pleasantly surprised.
First, let's flashback to practice on Thursday where they had to choose a team name. Last year they were the Red Birds. Red Birds? No wonder they hardly ever won. So the kids start shouting out ideas for team names and I hear one kid yell out, "Blue Jackets", which was quickly modified to Dummy Jackets by a teammate. Somehow, they agreed on a team name. They are the Jedi Masters. Kick ass! (Cartman voice).
And that's what they did today. It was 4-0 after 1 quarter. 8-0 at the half. 10-1 final score. Those kids were celebrating on the sidelines. The biggest difference this year was that they were actually discussing the game on the sidelines instead of wrestling and farting on each other. Well, mostly discussing the game. They are six years old after all and let's face it, farts are funny.
My son played well. He had several good defensive stops and came close to scoring a couple of times. Not bad for a kid who wasn't even sure if he wanted to play this season.
First, let's flashback to practice on Thursday where they had to choose a team name. Last year they were the Red Birds. Red Birds? No wonder they hardly ever won. So the kids start shouting out ideas for team names and I hear one kid yell out, "Blue Jackets", which was quickly modified to Dummy Jackets by a teammate. Somehow, they agreed on a team name. They are the Jedi Masters. Kick ass! (Cartman voice).
And that's what they did today. It was 4-0 after 1 quarter. 8-0 at the half. 10-1 final score. Those kids were celebrating on the sidelines. The biggest difference this year was that they were actually discussing the game on the sidelines instead of wrestling and farting on each other. Well, mostly discussing the game. They are six years old after all and let's face it, farts are funny.
My son played well. He had several good defensive stops and came close to scoring a couple of times. Not bad for a kid who wasn't even sure if he wanted to play this season.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Ready or Not, Here I Come
Eleven more days until Boston. Since my mental breakthrough last week my running has gone pretty well. I decided to push it as hard as I could last week and went with a hill workout, a tempo run, a marathon pace run, and an 18 mile long run at a good pace. After the 18 miler, I felt like I was getting there. On Tuesday, I ran a very fast hill workout while visualizing the Newton Hills and Heartbreak Hill. That did it. After 5 hard runs in a row, all my nagging aches and pains are back. I'm not at the point where I'm wearing bags of frozen peas all over my body but I'm feeling a little banged up. But that's a good thing. The goal is to break down your muscles and then let them rebuild, stronger, then break them down again, rebuild, repeat for 18 weeks. So I'm no where near as ready as I was for the Columbus Marathon last October but I'm confident that I can run a solid race.
I frequently hang out on the Running Times internet forum and today they are posting "Running Truths". I thought I'd share some of the good ones:
1. If you notice that every place you pass on your run smells like dog poop, you've probably got dog poop on your shoe.
2. Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard.
3. Whether you think that you can, or that you can't, you are usually right.
4. The difference between the mile and the marathon is the difference between burning your fingers with a match and slowly being roasted over hot coals - Hal Higdon
5. Your friends/neighbors/family/co-workers think that anything longer than 3 miles is crazy. You will be tagged as the "crazy runner". Get used to it.
6. Mother Nature doesn't give a damn about you or your planned workout.
7. Nipple Band-aids are a man's best friend.
8. A bad run is better than no run at all.
9. You can bet your life that your favorite pair of running shoes is about to be changed by the manufacturer.
10. 90% of running is mental. The other half is physical.
11. You know you ran the best you possibly could when you barf and then pass out.
12. One sure way to avoid having to go #2 while running is to carry baby wipes with you; one sure way to end up in the bushes is to forget the baby wipes.
I frequently hang out on the Running Times internet forum and today they are posting "Running Truths". I thought I'd share some of the good ones:
1. If you notice that every place you pass on your run smells like dog poop, you've probably got dog poop on your shoe.
2. Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard.
3. Whether you think that you can, or that you can't, you are usually right.
4. The difference between the mile and the marathon is the difference between burning your fingers with a match and slowly being roasted over hot coals - Hal Higdon
5. Your friends/neighbors/family/co-workers think that anything longer than 3 miles is crazy. You will be tagged as the "crazy runner". Get used to it.
6. Mother Nature doesn't give a damn about you or your planned workout.
7. Nipple Band-aids are a man's best friend.
8. A bad run is better than no run at all.
9. You can bet your life that your favorite pair of running shoes is about to be changed by the manufacturer.
10. 90% of running is mental. The other half is physical.
11. You know you ran the best you possibly could when you barf and then pass out.
12. One sure way to avoid having to go #2 while running is to carry baby wipes with you; one sure way to end up in the bushes is to forget the baby wipes.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
He Doesn't Know Shiite From....
How scary is it that after 5+ years of U.S. Military occupation in Iraq, John McCain still doesn't know the difference between a Sunni and a Shiite? It's bad enough that our fatuous "leader" didn't know there was such a thing as a Sunni or a Shiite until AFTER he ordered the invasion. But now, a guy who wants to be the next President, a guy who's entire campaign is centered on Iraq, doesn't seem capable of getting it straight either. It's insane. It's scary. It's unbelievable. How can you hope to "win" in Iraq when you don't even know who you are fighting? And it's not like it was a one time deal where he misspoke. This has happened at least four times in the last week or so. When it comes to Iraq, the maverick just doesn't have a clue. I have a feeling the republicans might be wishing they could call a "do over" for their primaries.
Hillary, repeat after Donald Trump, "You're fired!" When you force someone to resign it's not really a resignation at all now, is it?
Oh, I almost forgot. Back to grandpa for a minute. I just loved how he tried to go back and "apologize" for voting against the creation of the MLK holiday. Oops, turns out I might need the black vote after all. Sorry. As Chris Rock once said, you have to be pretty damn racist to not want to take a day off of work.
I'm telling you, the days are getting warmer and I'm starting to work up a sweat. That Obama Kool-aid is starting to look pretty good. Maybe just one sip won't hurt...
Hillary, repeat after Donald Trump, "You're fired!" When you force someone to resign it's not really a resignation at all now, is it?
Oh, I almost forgot. Back to grandpa for a minute. I just loved how he tried to go back and "apologize" for voting against the creation of the MLK holiday. Oops, turns out I might need the black vote after all. Sorry. As Chris Rock once said, you have to be pretty damn racist to not want to take a day off of work.
I'm telling you, the days are getting warmer and I'm starting to work up a sweat. That Obama Kool-aid is starting to look pretty good. Maybe just one sip won't hurt...
Monday, April 7, 2008
Miss Emma
Emma fought the good fight. She gave it her all. Emma left us yesterday.
Good night, Miss Emma. You will be missed.
Good night, Miss Emma. You will be missed.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
On a Lighter Note
Let's talk sports, shall we? The Buckeyes play for the NIT (Not Important Tournament) championship tonight. Winning will assure them the prestigious spot as the nation's 66th best team. I think The Onion put it best when they ran an article entitled, "NIT still has 10 open slots if anyone wants to play". Although, honestly, winning the NIT will be much more satisfying to the players than losing in the first or second round of the real tournament.
The Columbus Clippers begin their season tonight, under new manager and former Pittsburgh Pirate shortstop, Tim Foli. For those of you who don't know, the Clippers used to be the Yankees AAA team up until last year when Columbus asked Steinbrenner for money to build a new stadium. So now we are in year two of being a Washington Nationals AAA team, which seems to me to be a bit redundant. Kind of like the Pittsburgh Pirates having a AAA team.
How about a big "Woo-hoo" for the Pittsburgh Penguins! Yeah, baby. Not since the early 90's have they been in a position to actually win the Stanley Cup. I don't have cable, so I likely won't be able to see a single game of their run for the Cup, but that doesn't mean I won't be rooting for them the entire time. Hey, NBC, here's an idea. Get rid of that ridiculous Howie Mandel show where it takes an hour for models to open 20 some suitcases and air the NHL playoffs instead. Sure, your ratings will drop, but at least you'll be offering your viewers some "entertainment".
That's it for now. I'll save my idiotic fantasy baseball ramblings for another day.
The Columbus Clippers begin their season tonight, under new manager and former Pittsburgh Pirate shortstop, Tim Foli. For those of you who don't know, the Clippers used to be the Yankees AAA team up until last year when Columbus asked Steinbrenner for money to build a new stadium. So now we are in year two of being a Washington Nationals AAA team, which seems to me to be a bit redundant. Kind of like the Pittsburgh Pirates having a AAA team.
How about a big "Woo-hoo" for the Pittsburgh Penguins! Yeah, baby. Not since the early 90's have they been in a position to actually win the Stanley Cup. I don't have cable, so I likely won't be able to see a single game of their run for the Cup, but that doesn't mean I won't be rooting for them the entire time. Hey, NBC, here's an idea. Get rid of that ridiculous Howie Mandel show where it takes an hour for models to open 20 some suitcases and air the NHL playoffs instead. Sure, your ratings will drop, but at least you'll be offering your viewers some "entertainment".
That's it for now. I'll save my idiotic fantasy baseball ramblings for another day.
Welfare Rats
I am so sick of these welfare rats. Always going to the government with their hands out. They make me sick. Just because they are a bunch of screw ups means that the taxpayers have to take care of them? Give me a break. I mean, just last week the government agreed to bail out Bear Stearns to the tune of $30 billion dollars. That's $30 billion tax payer dollars to bail out a company who knowingly made bad loans, intentionally made bad loans, and then when the obvious outcome of the bad loans was achieved, went running to the government for "assistance".
"Was this a justified rescue to prevent a systemic collapse of financial markets or a $30 billion taxpayer bailout for a Wall Street firm while people on Main Street struggle to pay their mortgages?" Senate Banking Committee Chairman Christopher Dodd asked at the beginning of the hearing.
Indeed. So all of you people struggling to get by, barely making ends meet, do us all a favor. Go get a second or third job so that your additional tax dollars can help support the criminally wealthy executives at Bear Stearns and their equally wealthy shareholders.
From Market Watch; Bear Stearns Cos. Chairman and former Chief Executive James E. Cayne realized $10.3 million from vesting stock awards in 2007.
Alan D. Schwartz, who has been president of the company and became CEO since January, realized $9.76 million from vesting stock awards in 2007, the company said in its annual report with the Securities and Exchange Commission.
Both of the executives' 2007 salary was $250,000.
Yep, these folks are truly needy and they most certainly deserve our hard earned taxpayer dollars. If the Duh (again, short for W., for those of you new to this blog) years have taught us nothing else, it is that the 1% are more important than the rest of us and when they screw up they still deserve to be rewarded. As for the rest of us, well, apparently we're on our own.
"Was this a justified rescue to prevent a systemic collapse of financial markets or a $30 billion taxpayer bailout for a Wall Street firm while people on Main Street struggle to pay their mortgages?" Senate Banking Committee Chairman Christopher Dodd asked at the beginning of the hearing.
Indeed. So all of you people struggling to get by, barely making ends meet, do us all a favor. Go get a second or third job so that your additional tax dollars can help support the criminally wealthy executives at Bear Stearns and their equally wealthy shareholders.
From Market Watch; Bear Stearns Cos. Chairman and former Chief Executive James E. Cayne realized $10.3 million from vesting stock awards in 2007.
Alan D. Schwartz, who has been president of the company and became CEO since January, realized $9.76 million from vesting stock awards in 2007, the company said in its annual report with the Securities and Exchange Commission.
Both of the executives' 2007 salary was $250,000.
Yep, these folks are truly needy and they most certainly deserve our hard earned taxpayer dollars. If the Duh (again, short for W., for those of you new to this blog) years have taught us nothing else, it is that the 1% are more important than the rest of us and when they screw up they still deserve to be rewarded. As for the rest of us, well, apparently we're on our own.
Does anyone have anything for a sore back?
I warn you, I’m in a mood. Read at your own risk. If you are easily offended by political talk, stop reading now.
Bill Clinton, put that finger away before you poke someone’s eye out. Seriously, we all know you’d love to be President again, but if I have to look at one more photo of you wagging that finger at someone, I’m going to scream.
I think it is just wonderful that John McCain campaigns with his granddaughter at his side. She’s always smiling and so happy to be there. So supportive.
What? That’s his wife? Are you sure? Oops, honest mistake.
Wow, out of curiosity, and to make sure she really wasn’t McCain’s granddaughter, I just consulted the trusty Wikipedia. Here’s what I learned:
In 1989, Cindy McCain became addicted to opioid painkillers such as Percocet and Vicodin,[24] which she initially took to alleviate pain following two spinal surgeries for ruptured discs[25][26] and to ease emotional stress during the Keating Five scandal,[24] which involved her as a bookkeeper who had difficulty finding receipts.[14] The addiction progressed to where she resorted to stealing drugs from her own AVMT.[25] During 1992, Tom Gosinski, the director of government and international affairs for AVMT, discovered her drug theft.[27] Subsequently in 1992, her parents staged an intervention to force her to get help;[14] she told her husband about her problem, attended a drug treatment facility, began outpatient sessions, and ended her three years of active addiction.
---I’m sure the democrats will have fun with this leading up to November. Grandpa lived with a drug addict for 3 years and never noticed. And whoever came up with the line, "...a bookkeeper who had difficulty finding receipts.", I salute you. Way to turn a phrase.
Speaking of drug addicts,
The Oxy-moron strikes again:
On the April 1 edition of his nationally syndicated radio show, Rush Limbaugh said of a potential Hillary Clinton presidency, "[Y]ou have to understand the mindset of a lot of these feminists and women. They think they're owed this -- just like Obama supporters think they're owed this." Limbaugh continued: "These women have paid their dues. They've been married two or three times; they've had two or three abortions; they've done everything that feminism asked them to do. They have cut men out of their lives; they have devoted themselves to causes and careers. And this -- the candidacy of Hillary Clinton -- is the culmination of all of these women's efforts." He further stated: "And if it gets stolen from them, in their minds -- not actually stolen, but if the country or if the Democrat [sic] Party rejects this wonderfully great, lying woman in exchange for a rookie, radical black guy who can't tell the time of day, they are going to be so miffed. They are going to be so upset."
---and I’m picturing people nationwide listening to this and not finding anything wrong with it. What a country.
I was thinking about discussing the “torture memo” but I think I’ll save that for another day.
Let’s end with an easy riddle: Q: How do you know when Bush is lying. A: His lips are moving.
Bill Clinton, put that finger away before you poke someone’s eye out. Seriously, we all know you’d love to be President again, but if I have to look at one more photo of you wagging that finger at someone, I’m going to scream.
I think it is just wonderful that John McCain campaigns with his granddaughter at his side. She’s always smiling and so happy to be there. So supportive.
What? That’s his wife? Are you sure? Oops, honest mistake.
Wow, out of curiosity, and to make sure she really wasn’t McCain’s granddaughter, I just consulted the trusty Wikipedia. Here’s what I learned:
In 1989, Cindy McCain became addicted to opioid painkillers such as Percocet and Vicodin,[24] which she initially took to alleviate pain following two spinal surgeries for ruptured discs[25][26] and to ease emotional stress during the Keating Five scandal,[24] which involved her as a bookkeeper who had difficulty finding receipts.[14] The addiction progressed to where she resorted to stealing drugs from her own AVMT.[25] During 1992, Tom Gosinski, the director of government and international affairs for AVMT, discovered her drug theft.[27] Subsequently in 1992, her parents staged an intervention to force her to get help;[14] she told her husband about her problem, attended a drug treatment facility, began outpatient sessions, and ended her three years of active addiction.
---I’m sure the democrats will have fun with this leading up to November. Grandpa lived with a drug addict for 3 years and never noticed. And whoever came up with the line, "...a bookkeeper who had difficulty finding receipts.", I salute you. Way to turn a phrase.
Speaking of drug addicts,
The Oxy-moron strikes again:
On the April 1 edition of his nationally syndicated radio show, Rush Limbaugh said of a potential Hillary Clinton presidency, "[Y]ou have to understand the mindset of a lot of these feminists and women. They think they're owed this -- just like Obama supporters think they're owed this." Limbaugh continued: "These women have paid their dues. They've been married two or three times; they've had two or three abortions; they've done everything that feminism asked them to do. They have cut men out of their lives; they have devoted themselves to causes and careers. And this -- the candidacy of Hillary Clinton -- is the culmination of all of these women's efforts." He further stated: "And if it gets stolen from them, in their minds -- not actually stolen, but if the country or if the Democrat [sic] Party rejects this wonderfully great, lying woman in exchange for a rookie, radical black guy who can't tell the time of day, they are going to be so miffed. They are going to be so upset."
---and I’m picturing people nationwide listening to this and not finding anything wrong with it. What a country.
I was thinking about discussing the “torture memo” but I think I’ll save that for another day.
Let’s end with an easy riddle: Q: How do you know when Bush is lying. A: His lips are moving.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Going Mental
So I crashed and burned on my last 20 miler before Boston this past Sunday. I was fighting a cold and I had zero energy from the start. By mile 10 I felt like I had already run 20 and I finally threw in the towel after 15 miles. I figured it was safer to cut it short than to tough it out and cause an injury this close to race day.
Fast forward to today and once again I have zero energy and don't even feel like running (and that NEVER happens!). I'm even having trouble getting excited for Boston, which is only 3 weeks away. I decide to go out for an easy pace recovery run, no more than 5 miles. As soon as I start running I begin negotiating with myself and trimming the run down to 4 miles, with the promise that I'll do a hard run tomorrow. During mile 2 it finally dawns on me that there is nothing physically wrong with me, my shin is probably at 80-85% and not much of an issue. But what has happened is that I've been playing it safe for the last 5 weeks, giving the shin a chance to heal and I've lost my mental toughness. And so much of distance running is mental. Pushing through the pain.
So I decide to find out if this is a mental block or if my body is actually so fatigued that it's causing me to not feel like running (blasphemy!). I pick up the pace for mile 3 and at first it is tough but soon I'm cruising right along. I get to mile 3.4 which is the turn around and go home point if I'm running 4 miles. Instead of turning left to head home, I turn right and proceed to run a fast, intense hill workout for the next 3 miles. Ah, there it is. There's that good pain.
Break on through to the other side. I'm back. Boston, here I come.
Fast forward to today and once again I have zero energy and don't even feel like running (and that NEVER happens!). I'm even having trouble getting excited for Boston, which is only 3 weeks away. I decide to go out for an easy pace recovery run, no more than 5 miles. As soon as I start running I begin negotiating with myself and trimming the run down to 4 miles, with the promise that I'll do a hard run tomorrow. During mile 2 it finally dawns on me that there is nothing physically wrong with me, my shin is probably at 80-85% and not much of an issue. But what has happened is that I've been playing it safe for the last 5 weeks, giving the shin a chance to heal and I've lost my mental toughness. And so much of distance running is mental. Pushing through the pain.
So I decide to find out if this is a mental block or if my body is actually so fatigued that it's causing me to not feel like running (blasphemy!). I pick up the pace for mile 3 and at first it is tough but soon I'm cruising right along. I get to mile 3.4 which is the turn around and go home point if I'm running 4 miles. Instead of turning left to head home, I turn right and proceed to run a fast, intense hill workout for the next 3 miles. Ah, there it is. There's that good pain.
Break on through to the other side. I'm back. Boston, here I come.
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