WTF??


I'll go ahead and make this another quick post as I am behind at work!!!!

Personal best time today!  10:13 minute pace for 3.58 miles.

I am currently trying to figure out a great pre-run warm up so I don't spend the first mile of my run feeling like i'm running on glass stilts.  I ran/walked to the park today and did a quick, light, stretch before I started my ACTUAL run.  The results were pretty good.  My legs were not as wobbly when I started and I managed to keep a good pace the entire run.  I also managed to run through a pretty severe cramp.  I think I will drink more water as I decidedly do not like cramps.

A big gargantuan oaf of a human threw his shoulder at me when passing close by this morning.  He was on the wrong side of the path and clearly in the wrong, but hey,  I decided that I would be the better (and considerably smaller) human and let it drop rather than spending the morning icing my face.  It's important to choose your fights.

Icing my knees and then going to stretch.

Adios conejos.


- El Tortuga

Personal Best

Yesterday I had my best run to date!  3.5 miles and a 10:50 pace.  

Quickest post ever.

Rambo

I dressed in the cold.  I could hear the soft rain patting against my window.  I put on my shoes and walked out of my flat.  Dawn was barely visible.  I walked in the rain, Grateful Dead on Spotify, and took note of my appendages.  They were all, more or less, for shit.

I started my run and my knees were all knobby and weebly-wobbly.  It took about a mile to find some strength in them and probably another mile to find a pace. All in all I ran just under three with a warm down run home.  There were some failures this morning and some successes. This does not surprise me as I find this to be a recurring theme.

My pace was an 11 minute mile which to me is nothing to be ashamed of.  I think If I keep my training going I should be able to shave a minute and a half off by the end of summer.  The big hill at the end of my loop in the park was definitely a big win for me today.  I wouldn't say I attacked it, but I pawed at it with more ferocity than I have hitherto shown.  I managed to keep my wind pretty steady too and that has been a source of trouble for me.

The greatest success, I think anyway, came when I got home.  I was wet, cold and shivering and there was NO HOT WATER in my building.  To say I was upset is an understatement.  I cursed the gods.  I wanted to maim and murder and torture the management office that oversee's my Co-op.  I was ready to go postal.  But I thought to myself, as I often do when I need to get to the meat and marrow of the matter;  "What would John Rambo do?".  And the answer was clear.  He would take a cold shower. Because he has no fear. So I took a motherfucking cold shower.

I am a badass and this morning I win.

12 pounds

I have lost 12 pounds since Florida.

I took the weekend off.

5K tomorrow morning.

Running with runners

I went running with the new running club this morning.  It was a short run, 2.5 miles, and my new running buddies pushed me.  It wasn't an aggressive push.  Not a "c'mon fat boy! Pick it up!!!!", push. But, rather, more of a keep-with-my-pace-and-then-coax-me-to-go-a-hair-faster push. I must say they showed quite a bit of restraint slowing down as they did to keep me company.   It was obvious that I was the weakest of the pack and that they could have left me in the dust.

I managed a 10:45 minute pace for the entirety of the run, but I definitely pushed a little too hard in doing so.  I need to stay true to the "run at the speed in which you can hold a conversation" maxim.  I could barely breathe by the end of the first mile and it didn't get much better.  I think over the next 3 months my lungs should start to acclimate and I will be able to push a little more then.  I need to focus on my foundation, I think.  Form, light, ease, breath, etc...

I shared my story with them and they shared theirs with me and they were seemingly authentic in their support.  "Just keep at it" seems to be the common thread.  It was a lot of fun and I look forward to more morning jaunts.  ALSO, they like to get up at the crack of dawn which works for me as the Captain usually wakes me up at 5 AM.

I treated myself to a breakfast of steak, brown rice and two scrambled eggs.  No butter (fuck my fat life).  I also weighed myself with my NEW scale that my parents sent me (nothing like the folks to make someone feel like a lard ass) and was happy to see that I was down to 224.  Little victories folks. Subtle fist pumps. It is indeed the little glimmers that keep me going.

Off to the Poconos today!  I have a route in my mind for Sunday morning.  Gonna be mostly uphill.

Gack.

Legs of lead

It's amazing.  I woke up this morning and I could barely hobble to the kitchen to down a glass of water.  I haven't run in 3 days and my legs felt like wood.  I was like a peg legged sailor stumbling about at 6 AM.  On top of that I visited some friends in the kitchen at Gramercy Tavern last evening and they coerced me into staying for a few bites.  Yeah right.  I stumbled out at max capacity, bursting at the seems.  I dreaded the morning and the run to come.

But the morning did come, I dressed and walked to the park and could not believe how stiff I was. My legs were like sticks.  By the time I got to the park I was slightly loose, but still pretty stiff and I thought to myself; "Ain't gonna happen today. No way.".  For the life of me I couldn't see myself running a mile.

I started out rather briskly (for me anyways) and I quickly got into a pace that was comfortable, but challenging as well.  I wasn't panting like a dog, but I was taking in air. After, let's say, 200 yards I felt pretty good.  I was comfortable, I was brisk and rather light on my feet (if I may say so myself), I decided to challenge myself.  I would speed up for 50 yards and then slow down to my regular pace for 50 Yards,  I did this, more or less, for the first mile and then my IPHONE-Coach-app-thingy informed me that my pace for the first mile was 10:21!

Quiet, subtle, fist pump for me.

I even managed to keep this pace for two miles.

And then I ran out of gas.

I did manage to run 3.4 miles with final average pace of 11:16. It is my personal best so far and it makes me very proud.  Emil Zatopek i'm not, but hey, not everyone is.  I don't really know how it works, or why, this running thing.  I know that I felt like the Tin Man this morning when I walked to the park and I had my best run to date.... WEIRD.

I also ENJOYED my run... mostly.  I definitely had long'ish moments of feeling loose and light. Perhaps even moments of zen.  I gotta say, its the first time I felt like there were real results happening.

I am only going to run 2.5 on Friday and I will start my actual 10 K training on Monday.

ICE.

I tried going out this morning.  My phone informed me that it was a balmy 47 degrees.  I got up and headed out only to find TREACHEROUS sidewalks.  I made it to the park thinking that it would be better there for some reason.  It was solid ice.  The entire park.

I made an attempt to run on the side paths, but they were soup and soaked my feet in mere seconds. I decided to call it quits and head back before I hurt myself.  I gave myself a break.  I made, I think, a wise choice.

But all the other runners?  They were either stupid, fearless or both.  I watched at least 2 dozen runners slip and slide on the ice, but they kept at it.  Apparently they had no worries about torn meniscus's and pulled calves, sprained ankles and bruised coccyx's (coccyxi?).  They seemed blind to the elements.  I was both impressed and shocked by their hubris.

Is this what it means to be a dedicated runner?  Go all out regardless of the elements?  The danger?  I could see running in a summer shower, or even a light dusting of snow, but this shit was ridiculous.  What was needed on these roads were ice boots, not Saucony.

I will try again manana and I will try to continue to listen to common sense.  Maybe when I have logged a couple of 1,000  miles on my slow-ass feet I will have the tenacity to go balls to the wall like these crazies.  Until then, slow and steady and breaks when nature decides to kick me in the balls.....

Really proud and really depressed about my mornings run.  On the one side I am proud that I got up at 6:30 am, in 19 degree weather, and managed to run 5K.  On the other, I am depressed that I am getting SLOWER.  I concede that I am a novice runner, but why isn't my body acclimating?  Am I overdoing it?  Should I be adding a longer run to build up?  Is it diet? Or should I just keep at it until mine own body figures it out.

Also, to stretch or not to stretch?  Before or after?  The only time I stretched before a run I couldnt run a mile.  Lots of questions here.,.

These are things I will have to stew on.

I am a wee bit bummed, but I will keep at it.

Doh.

Add caption

Dreams

I had an amazing dream last night.

In it I was running cross country with my, former, middle school classmates (I never ran cross-country in middle school).  We were all older though.  In the dream I started the race too early because I couldn't find the starting line.  I ran for about a mile and then doubled back only to find the starting line and to realize that the race had already begun.  I started over, full of panic, but running at the lightest, most fluid, sprint.  I mean I was hauling, but it felt like my feet were barely touching the ground.

I ran for miles.  Through streets and woods I scampered, leaped and slid on snow covered paths (like I was skiing).  It was truly amazing.  When I finally caught up with my team the race was over. Apparently we won.  All the other teams were walking back to their buses, or homes, but my team was standing around our coach.  I have no idea who this guy was. He was of the nameless, faceless, variety of dream specter, but he got us all pumped up to run back to the starting line and off we sprinted. No questions asked.

We ran as a pack.  Flying, silent, through back woods and parks and snow covered playgrounds.  Just tearing through neighborhood after neighborhood until we got back to the start.  UNBELIEVABLY realistic. 

What was amazing about the dream, was that it reminded me of something.  It brought back that feeling of running all out and not HURTING.  That thumping, hammering, 10 year old boy chest that has run until empty and yet, still has a giant grin on his face!  The weightlessness and wonderfulness of pure, all out, spastic, energy and joy.  

So now I can't wait for my next run.  Not because I will experience anything remotely like my dream, but because, I bet, it will get me one step closer to something resembling that feeling. Maybe a 45 year old version of that feeling, but something close anyways.

El Tortuga, salty tears of joy

So! 

Shame Squashed. 

I ran my 5K after all.  This morning, at a snails pace.  It was painful and slow and long, but I did it.  No, well, very little, shin pain and very little foot and knee soreness. I shuffled along, like a duck in stilettos trying to walk on ice, bit by bit until I made 3.1 miles.  Hooray for me.

Now, full disclosure time. I got HAMMERED last night with an old friend.  After four or five Bourbons and a half bottle of wine, I got to bed at midnight and started my run at 7 am.  This might help explain the 13-plus minute mile I averaged.  Ugh.

But I did it.  I even managed to smile a little. I head back to NYC this afternoon and will miss my little Sarasota route.  Back to the park, the cold, cold park. I am very excited to get home and get back to my routine.  I am going to practice restraint in my running and in my diet.  It seems I have managed to gain 3 lbs and that needs to go away.  I now have 43 pounds to lose. I also think the lightness and ease I am striving to cultivate will come more naturally if I too am light. 

So back to Brooklyn I go.  A new club to meet and new challenges to overcome.  I am a fearless terrapin and look forward to everything this running thing can throw at me. Actually I am a pretty terrified tortuga, but one must keep a brave face and all....

Ok Prospect Park, here I come.  And hells coming with me.  HELL is coming with me.

Prospect Park 10 K, April 23rd.

I am going to start my training on the 22nd of this month.  I am on the fence of wether I should embrace a 3 day training schedule or a 4 day training schedule.  I am leaning towards the 4 day, but Coach says start with 3 (Monday, Wednesday & Friday) and work up to 4 (Sunday).  I will inherit a Sunday/Monday turn around and since Sunday is my long day I will probably run/walk Mondays to start.

To get the most benefit from my Sunday "long" day I will add a half mile every week ramping up to 6 miles;

Mon 02/22 - 3.1

Wed 02/24 - 2.5

Frid 02/26 - 3.1

Mon 02/29 - 3.1

Wed 03/02 - 2.5

Frid  03/04 - 3.1

Mon 02/07 - 3.1

Wed 03/09 - 2.5

Frid  03/11 - 3.1

Mon 03/14 - 3.1

Wed 03/16 - 2.5

Frid  03/18 - 3.1

Sun  03/20 - 3.5

Mon 03/21 - 3.1 (run/walk)

Wed 03/23 - 2.5

Frid  03/25 - 3.1

Sun  03/27 - 4

Mon 03/28 - 3.1 (run/walk)

Wed 03/30 - 2.5

Frid 04/01 - 3.5

Sun  04/03 - 4.5

Mon  04/04 - 3.1 (run/walk)

Wed  04/06 - 2.5

Frid   04/08 - 3.1

Sun   04/10  - 5

Mon  04/11 - 3.1

Wed  04/13 -2.5

Frid  04/15 - 3.5

Sun   04/17 - 5.5

Mon  04/18 -3.1

Wed  04/20 -2.5

Thur  04/22 -3.1

Sat     04/23 - Race day (6.2)

I think this is a doable schedule.  I want to ride my bike around the park on off days or do some core training at home.  My goal is to not think about time, but to think about lightness and ease. I think pace will come with miles put down.  Everything still hurts pretty much all the time so I will have to learn the difference between "good" pain and BAD pain.

I am very excited to get started but, knowing my propensity for getting over eager and pushing too hard, I need to adopt a patience that I have hitherto not acknowedged in my day to day life.  OH BOY.  This is going to be a beast.

I have joined The Crown Heights Runners Club.  They have a novice run Mondays at 6:30 in the morning, plus training for 5K's, 10K's and 1/2 and full marathons.  I am a little nervous joining a new club.  Will they like me? Will I fit in?  Is there some sort of branding ceremony?  I picture robes, incense and a glowing crown brand being placed on my lily white flesh.  Seared hog.

Well.  Wish me luck friends. As always, again, I welcome insight and opinion.  So please, don't be afraid to get involved.  Comment. Call. Text. Encourage!  

Blogspot (Seriously? There must be a better name) tells me if you add your email where it says - EMAIL - you will be rewarded with notifications of updated posts!

Out!

Tragedy.

I quit after 1 mile of the 5K last night.  My shins were on fire and were cramping up.  It was like someone was peeling off my shins with a putty knife. Ouch.  I made it to the top of Lido Key Bridge and I just could not run another step.  In fact I could barely walk.  But walk I did, for 2.1 more miles.

At the end everyone (I was running with a running club) was partying.  I hung out and killed a beer with a few of them. They asked how my run went and I explained my situation.  I was surprised by the understanding that poured forth. Mostly everyone told me to rest a day or two and give it another shot.  They had all been there it seemed. Apparently the desire to run faster and further sometimes outweighs common sense. 

Runners, it seems, are supportive.

I think I just tried too hard to keep up with the group rather than running at my own, dumb, pace.  But lesson learned.  I am tortuga.  Live with it.  Oh the shame.  The tragedy.

I weighed myself last night and I have lost 1 pound since I started running.

Merry Fuck-mas.  I want my money back.

I had an idea that if I started to log 10 plus mile weeks the weight would start falling off, but no. Apparently it is not so simple.  Apparently there is this thing called a diet (DIEt) that I may have to get on board with.  The only reason I am doing this, well there are two actually, is so I can eat whatever I want (and I want to get my blood pressure and cholesterol down to healthy).  I feel like the new guy in D-block during shower time.  Seriously screwed.  Sans lube.

Apparently I am supposed to lift before I run to get my glycol-spastic-thingamajig-shit down (or is it up?) so I can burn fat when I start my run.  I wanted to start running so I didn't have to go to the gym.  AND I am supposed to cross-train on my days off?  I was imagining ass on couch, feet up and perhaps a joint?  This shit is nuts.  I just want to be able to house a pizza and have my newer, sleeker, faster metabolism pay the bill. 

But noooooo, the pizza guy showed up, I paid him, and the box was empty (metaphorically speaking). 

I am running a 5K tonight and then another on Wednesday.  Next Monday I start training for a 10K.  I downloaded a training schedule that offers a 3 day training week, but I am itching to do more.  I want to run every day now. My dearest friend Beth (now Coach Beth) is helping me train and has proved to be an invaluable source of information.  She provides encouragement and restraint when I need it. We are planning on doing a half-marathon next year at Myrtle Beach.  I am very excited.

I have ordered some Running for Dummies books in order to get my mind right and some gel wraps for my knees.  I feel like I am getting ready for battle. I have a bike so I can ride around the park for 45 minutes on my days off.  I think I can manage some lunges, push-ups and sit ups pre-run so I can get my glycol-spastic-thingamajig-shit down (or is it up?).  But this is getting ridiculous.  

I want my pizza.

So I figured something out.  I think.  Well, I came to this conclusion today during my 4.57 mile run to The Lutheran Church in Lido Beach (in Florida where I am spending the week); I shouldn't run faster than I can consistently hold a smile.  It's hokey, I know, but it seems to keeps me honest and it keeps my ego in check. If I start speeding up and start huffing and puffing I am clearly trying too hard.  If I try to keep happy, I need to set a pace that supports that.  I imagine this quasi-philosophy may change over time, but it definitely helped on my longest run to date.  Also, there are a lot of miserable looking runners out there and I don't want to look like them.  

I went to a shoe store in downtown Sarasota this morning, after my run, in order to see what kind of feedback I could get on shoes, philosophy, goals setting, etc.  I spoke to the manager and she informed me, after sizing my feet, that, perhaps, instead of running in a 12.5 shoe I should consider running in a shoe that fits me.  As I am clearly a size 14.

This was a surprise.  Have my feet grown a full size and a half???  Or, is it possible that the 30 plus pounds I have put on over the past 5 years have smashed my feet out making them longer and wider? I was ashamed either way, pure and simple.  My brother used to tease me mercilessly about my feet and now I have flippers.  Eeeeesh.

The manager also suggested that I run with their running group Monday night as they do a weekly 5K and I said I would be there.  And then I spent $175 on a pair of running shoes and some orthopedic flip flops.  These shits ain't cheap.  I don't want to become a gear guy, but I feel the force is strong with the running mafia. They will come for me in the dead of night and bury me in the swamps of jersey if I don't get a head lamp, a running vest, compressor shorts, shirts, orthopedic inserts and running hats.

The struggle is indeed real.

Day off tomorrow and then an evening 5 K on Monday!  Living the dream.

I am re-reading Christopher McDougall's Born To Run in the hopes that it will give me some inspiration in the weeks to come.  Reading about the Tarahumara and the Leadville 100 (especially the Leadville 100)  and the sheer will it takes to run a 100 mile marathon through the mountains is certainly inspirational, but not in the sense that it inspires me to run 100 miles. It's just nice to know that someone is doing it for the rest of us. 3.5 miles is still enough for me, thanks very much.

I ran a sub 12 minute mile today.  It may not sound like much, but it is a minute off of Mondays time and a full 2 minutes off my first day.  I feel like that is something to appreciate.  I even gave a tiny fist pump when Runtastic told me my pace was 11:25.  Small victories my friends, small victories.  I also woke up to very sore knee and once again questioned wether or not to skip this mornings loop.  I figured it couldn't hurt to walk to the park and walk the loop if need be.

I like walking to the park. I see people running to get there, but I like the 10 minutes of brisk walking because it allows me to wake up, stretch my legs out and get my mind ready for the thirty five minutes of discomfort which I am about to face.  Once I arrived my knees seemed to have warmed up and, though there was a little tightness, I went ahead and ran.

There is a lot to balance when running three miles (even at my sloth-like pace).  I often feel like I can pick up the pace and when I try my easy breathing suddenly becomes a choke hold. Its a very fine line between running "comfortably" and standing in a bush retching. I find I have to listen to my breath, my legs, my feet and most importantly my ego.  My ego is a motherfucker.  EVERY time someone passes me I hate myself a little bit.  I remind myself that i'm just beginning, speed will come, etc... and then some dick in a Stanford sweatshirt bounces by and I want to stop, walk out of the park and pound some fries.

But I didn't.  I don't. I remind myself that I should try to enjoy this.  Even at my pace.

Maybe that was today's lesson.  I am not running like the Tarahumara, or that Stanford dick, but I am running.  Keep running.  Keep running.






.

Day Three

I took Saturday and Sunday off. I relished my days off. I went out in the mornings and had my coffee and a cinnamon roll (because I earned it).  I went out to dinner on Sunday with my buddy Fernando (not his real name) and didn't drink too much. I fantasized about my Monday morning run and for some reason I imagined grace, I thought that I would have a new spring in my step.  I imagined that I would be like a young stag and I would glide over the pavement, float up the hills. I imagined slow claps from my fellow runners and maybe a high five from that weird looking dude that runs with his golden retriever.

Again.  A big fat nope.

I was passed by a baby for the love of fuck.  Granted, baby was in a stroller pushed by a guy who obviously runs a lot, but still. A baby. How do these people do it?  Everyday?  Do the knees stop hurting as much?  Does the pavement get softer?  I am sure there are a myriad of things that I am doing wrong; shoes, form, stretching, diet, breathing, thinking, etc...  But for the love of Allah does it get better???

My feeling is that the answer is no, but I imagine you become more zen with the pain.  My pain and I need to become pals. I have come to this conclusion using a single simple deduction which I gleaned from a life time of watching people run and that is this; NOBODY LOOKS HAPPY WHILST RUNNING!!!! Ever.  There must be a pain apparently.

So please.  Any advise?  Any mantra?  I find that I revert to angry thoughts and violent fantasies concerning Donald Trump and FOX and Friends and that is no good for my juju.