Running Shoes

I have 6 pair of running shoes in my closet.  For a guy that hates running? It is kind of odd.   Running shoes are a peculiar thing.  They're mostly all ugly.  Predominately white with all kinds of zing stitched all over them.  I buy mine from a local running store, the only one we have in town, but a good one.  They watch you on a tread mill, if you want, to determine pronation or supination and other errors in your anatomy. I honestly think that some people must pronate with one foot and supinate with the other.  Have you ever seen this?  Some of them can even run incredibly well, but they look godawful (no taking the name in 'vain' intended).  Anyway, this running store lets you run around the building a few times. They're like any good running store. They let you exchange shoes that don't quite feel  right after running in them.  That's a good one.  When ever I switch to another brand it's never right.  It can get 'right' with some time, but shoes are unique.  Runners are crazy about it  - there's probably all kinds of blogs by runners talking about this exact subject right now.  I don't even know if I pronote or supinate, but I know I do one or the other.

I ran today.  I'm guessing 8 miles.  My Garmin watch was dead.  I hate that - forgot to plug it in.  It does a fairly good job of tracking my mileage and speed.  It was a nice run, good weather, a little more windy than I prefer.  The leaves chased me around a few times, swirling as if thinking to be a tornado, or darting ahead of me low to the ground in a great stampede.

 I actually had a 'happy' run.

drunk on running

My true thoughts on running: it sucks.  There, I've said it.  I don't want to bring my thoughts down to the gutter like this - keep the kids from reading.  I may need to elevate my use of profanity in the coming days and months as I strive to cope with running.  Running is painful when you're doing it and when not.  I haven't ran all week and I'm completely guilt stricken.  And when I do run I mostly hate it.  Running is a function of triathlon, nothing more.  Swimming is graceful, meditative.  Cycling is invigorating and fast, and I have a cool bike.  It even develops somewhat attractive legs, and you can coast now and then to grab a second of rest while performing the activity.  You can't coast while running. Good runners have stringy looking legs.   My mantra idea is lost, dissapeared in yesterday's gray skies and cold temperature. Prolonged running produces physical gauntness for goodness sake.  Should I fear some unknown health consequences outside of future knee and hip replacement?   Maybe this is some subconscious effort at reverse psychology. To fool myself...if I publically write about how much I hate to run then maybe I'll strive to do it more often?  I'll write it to death?  What kind of nonsense is that?  Not motivating in the least.  Hypnotism.  Maybe I need hypnotism?

Alright, enough....I'm going to run soon and enjoy every second.  I am a happy runner and that's all there is to it.

So happy.

Swim/Weights

I hit the Y right after work.  Jorgenson.  The rich Y.  It's lacks spirit completely. Too clean and pretty.  Sterile.  No one talks.    I much prefer the old downtown branch, with the dark locker room, rusty lockers, a little crust along the edges, and strange people in the water.  Jorgenson makes me feel guilty.

Anyway - that's where I went.  I had a lane to myself for about 500 yards, then two people got in, one without goggles swimming with his head out of the water and another guy that wanted to circle swim the wrong way, as if we were in England, down the left.  That's fine I suppose, but seeing as we were actually standing in a pool in America I forced my position and the three of us swam down the right side of the lane.  'No goggles' made it for about two 50's then got out panting on the side.  The Englishman lead the charge splashing about near the center line the whole time. I held back and did single arm drill to pass the time, but quickly decided to hop out. 

At home I did bench press with the boys.  I'm a fairly puny weight lifter. It's refreshing sometimes to hear some honest self-deprecation, huh?  I've been trying to consistantly lift in the hopes it may improve my overall fitness and performance.  At night I stood outside for a bit and watched the moon....and I couldn't feel the slightest degree of muscular stress from my 13 mile run the day before.  It's good to be fit.

Sunday run

Finally I got it together enough to put in my long-run this week.  I had a poor week, ran only one time.  I did 13 miles today at a fairly fast clip - took me about an hour and fifty minutes which is decent I suppose for a training run.  Odd weather - gray and windy with a few drops of rain to blue skies and sunshine all on the same trip.  I ran a different route than normal.  Found myself in a fairly bad side of town with lots of dogs chained or fenced.  They didn't seem to be used to joggers, but they did well as guard dogs.  It made me think briefly of our relatively new dog (Zeke - 11 months old) ferociously digging holes in the back yard, or perhaps chewing another pair of perfectly good footwear.  He does enjoy barking it up at the passersby in the alley when he gets the opportunity.  Dogs are so innately territorial.

I twisted and turned all through the city.  Ended up at a quaint little bike shop we have in town right along the river.  From there I turned and headed home, checking out things downtown, keeping my stride and heart rate pleasantly ticking.  This was just a run to put in the time, going through the motions, getting my legs comfortable with the motion.  I have two weeks before my marathon.  I am honestly not looking forward to it.   My motivation is lost - gone after Ironman.  Oh well.  I'm not a triathlete: those days are over.  I'm a runner.  I am a runner.  I'm going to start repeating this mantra in the mirror every morning, like Annette Bening  in American Beauty trying to sell that house.

Quick swim

Let's see...maybe did 1,500 yards after work tonight?  Strong yards.  All fast.  Some kicking.  There was a little kid swim class going on, so there were parents sitting along the perimeter watching their prodigies. I dropped into the one lap lane and started going faster than usual for my warm-up.  Always the case when being watched.  I mean, I can't look like your average swimmer.  It's just not in my blood to swim slow.  And, generally speaking I'm a show-off when possible. If you can swim 4 lengths of the pool in 56 seconds then do it.  Thus concludes my worst entry ever. 

I swim blind

It's true.  Can't see a thing really.  Only the big black + at the end of the pool.  And the flags which indicate it's time to roll or crash into the concrete.  I went to the Y this morning at 5:00am.  There in the lobby stood my fellow downtown YMCA swimmers, fully dressed to my surprise.  Something was wrong with the chlorine level.  I could see the life guard holding a vial,  shacking vigorously, waiting for some color to appear or not.  I asked the married couple that bobs aquatically up-and-down for an hour every morning what was up:  "Pools closed, somethin's wrong with the water".  Great.  This is always such a disappointment. I drove back home and lifted weights in the basement.  So, anyway blindness - when I swim I can't see much.  I wouldn't be surprised if my optometrist declared me legally blind in a swimming pool. I remember competing in college, approaching the blocks, wanting to dominate the race, ready to pounce...and then I'd have to take my glasses off and everything would go completely blurry.   I can tug slightly on the side of one eye (which is embarrassing in itself) and squeak out a slim degree of focus, but other than that I can't see.   It doesn't matter in the slightest. I feel completly comfortable in the water with no vision.  I can't see the tiles, or faces, or writing, or the clock.  Well...I have adapted somewhat to the clock.  I can pick out a red line in motion, and when it hits the top, I know I'm on the 60.  Why in the world am I writing this? I heard a story on NPR about a guy that bowled a perfect 'game' of bowling, or whatever it is you say when discussing bowling...and he is legally blind.  For him it's like looking into a flashlight...the pins are so blurred that they appear like glowing white objects and he just knocks them down.  I could relate.

Ran seven miles tonight with 20/20 vision, glasses on.

Sunday Spin

I rolled out my road bike today, got some air in the tires, and knocked around town racing cars, running stop lights when I could, sprinting through yellow lights daring the cars to make their move.  It felt like old times again.  I never ride that way.  I ride like a car drives, obey most of the laws....although I do run most stop signs and stop lights, when clear.  I grew up cycling in Indianapolis, and my one good friend and I had a expression that I still hold onto: No cop, no stop.  Our second rule to cycling was 'never hesitant'.  There is some truth to this one.  You have to an assertive cyclist, a predictable cyclist.  Hesitating, wondering around, making a move and then backing off confuses people in cars.  That's what triggers their road rage and results in stuff being thrown at you.  Some kid got me with a pre-super soaker 'super soaker' 20 years ago.  It was a well coordinated strike...the young guns drove up slow and close and then blasted me with a beam of water.  I bet they still remember this event.  And I hope they feel bad. 

Anyway,  hope I'm not tempting fate with my recollection of past dare-devil cycling moves...and what I did today.  I had a helmet on anyway; I've grown up just slightly enough to overcome my vanity, well partially.    Cycling helmets really look kind of ridiculous.

I'm not really in my training 'mode' yet.  That will start in earnest January 1st.  I did put in a pretty good weight workout today in the basement.  I did an Ironman about 5 weeks ago, I ran a mini-marathon a couple weeks ago, I signed up for a marathon in 4 weeks of all things.  Anything I do from now until January is bonus training.  Go outside.  It's beautiful. 

2011: The Beginning

I'm doing it again. Somewhat reluctantly, with some mixed emotion. The run. Ah. The run is the killer. I signed up for the 2011 Ironman Wisconsin Triathlon the day before competing in the 2010 thriller. So then, now my new blog begins.

I ran 19.5 miles this morning. I hadn't ran all week. I ran with a friend and we talked about this and that as we trudged along. At mile 16 or so we stopped at a water fountain and he said "not too many people ran 19 miles this morning"...and then, "not too many people run 19 miles in a week". Grimacing, in pain, cold, exhausted, with mild cramps, I agreed.

I signed up for a marathon on November 6th. I've never run just a straight marathon. I've done countless half-marathon distance races: I have a tie rack in my closet filled with useless medals clinking whenever I disrupt their slumber. I'll likely be able to fill a shoe box to the top before my knees or hips finally collapse. Today may have been my final 'long-run' before November 6th. I turn 39 years old on November 7th. My, my....39 so fast? I thought I would achieved so much more considering the number of years I've had to think about it. Nonetheless, another birthday is heading my way. I'm fairly fit...about 185 pounds. I have good knees, hips, one shoulder has a slight rotor-cuff tear (but I only notice it doing backstroke thankfully), I can finish an Ironman distance event and it's not some miracle. There are some people that do them with one leg or something like that and it is miraculous I would say. This will be my third Ironman distance. My previous marathon runs started out after a 2.5 mile swim and 112 bike. So, I'm not sure what to expect. I grew up a swimmer, I love cycling, I'm trying to love running.

So. Here we go. I'm going to start writing again. It helps balance the training monotony. I'm going to be a runner. I want to go a sub 11-hour Ironman.