Squeezing Me To Tears - Why I Cry Every Marathon

It's marathon season, so time to cannibalize some old material.

The following is from a blog post that appeared 2 years ago. I revised it, and it also appears as a chapter in: Chasing the Dragon: Running to Get High.

Squeezing Me to Tears 

Marathoning is such a grand event, and the way it takes place on the streets and the earth is nothing compared to the way it takes place in my mind. The way it plays out in my heart and soul is spectacular and has a deeper existential meaning beyond just a physical endurance event on a Sunday morning.

Sure it's a long as hell run, but more than that. It is me staring into the void, and the void challenging me back, asking me to show what I am made of.

It is the eternal existential question: What's in your essence? What's in your soul? Are you up to the challenge of being your best? Can you blast past previously self-imposed artificial limits? Can you walk on water, part the Red Sea, can you not shrivel in pain and fear when the moment comes? Will you run on and endure or crumble into a fetal position and whimper with the challenges you face?

A marathon is the arena in which I prove myself worthy, that I am strong, a frigging fuckin' warrior of life who will battle back, fight to the bone and not let blood or sweat or ripping muscles and tendons stop me. It is life squeezing me and squeezing me to find out what's inside, and my essence oozes out and I bare myself for all to see, and I answer; Hellz yeah, I got this. I got this and life is beautiful. I am king, hear me ROOOOARRRR!!!! Fucking beast. 

Just to show up on marathon morning is to face the fear. Dreams of thousands hang on the precipice of that start line, and fear is at the start of every marathon. I don't care if you have run 50.

There's fear that you won't run your goal, fear of that little injury in your calf since you know that if there's any weakness the course that awaits you will exploit it to its core. Fear of not finishing, fear of embarrassment, fear of the weather, of being hurt, of having your dreams squashed and buried. Will you chafe, did you wear the right thing, you have to pee, you may throw up, you ate too much, not enough, will you curl up into your safe ball of comfort when that gargantuan test is put before you? How will you feel when the heat of the event starts to boil all of your fears and truths to the surface, can you hack it?

It's primordial and filthy stuff, and you won't come away unchanged. And the power of thousands of people answering the challenge collides at every event. 

Don't you believe you can feel the people next to you in the last 6.2 of a race? That there's a mystical and spiritual connection to thousands of other runners? Hard to describe, but there is some odd connection that happens to people you never saw, may never see, but just to be near them and experiencing the same thing, all of you in your most vulnerable and stripped down moments. Because you know the person next to you at mile 24 has also been training for weeks, has been running many hours of the day and thinking about running the rest of the hours of the day, and now you have come together for the grand and ecstatic climax. 

Yes, that's a lot for just some training, but I have always made the marathon about way more than just training. It means much more than a way to feel fit, a way to give my life purpose, clarity, and a spiritual and emotional detox. It does all of that, and more. It is an existential moment where I have to define myself and rise to the occasion and prove my worth. And since there is such a buildup, maybe that's why I always cry. The moment I finish a marathon, the tears flow unabashedly, not because I am hurt, (because of course I am hurt) but because I am so alive at that moment, and everything I am made of is being squeezed out of me. I showed up, I did it, I am a warrior, I felt the fear and did it anyway.

Then again, I also tear up every time I watch Terms of Endearment and The Lion King (especially when Mufasa challenges Simba that he is more than what he has become).

No, those aren't red boogers on my sleeve, that's my heart. Well, maybe a mix of both. And all that stuff that comes out of you when you run — that's not sweat, that's your heart and soul dripping out of every pore of your skin, because you're getting squeezed.

A marathon is not just a run. Don't ever let it become that. It's you against the negative forces in life, the voices in your head, that old teacher from seventh grade or the evil deities in your head all trying to make you feel and believe you are less than what you are. You aren't, damn it, and you got your medal, your race day T-shirt, your appetite, and your tears to prove it. 

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Third 20 Miler Done - Hasa Diga Eebowai

My third 20 miler for the Bayshore marathon is done.  Painful and hard, and my training has been such that I had no idea what to expect, but then again, that's kind of why we do this.  The run was at a slow pace but some of my faster miles were in the later half. As always, the long run tapped into parts of me that regular runs never do.

It was 71 degrees and sunny. We skipped spring, and ran into summer it seems. I took a usual route, a 4 mile run to 8 Mile, then a 4 mile loop down 8 mile, out and back to my makeshift aid station of water and gu and S-caps under an evergreen tree. Only problem was, today they were pouring new cement on all the major sidewalk curbs, so I had to run around construction workers and avoid the wet cement.

Some random thoughts:

One More Day from the Les Mis soundtrack is a great playlist opener.

Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones is a great running song. So is Man Up from Book of Mormon and the song Hasa Diga Eebowai, which is not only a great song, but ended up being my mantra.

(What does Hasa Diga Eebowai mean? Whatever you do, don't go googling it, you'll regret it, please don't, don't... You did it anyways! Ahhhhh!  Don't judge. Context is everything, go see the play before you condemn me)

KT tape on my legs got me some looks.

Miles 1 to 7 of a long run feel harder than miles 8 to 14. That was when I was in my sweet spot.

I don't like Chocolate Mint Gu. Wanted to throw up.

I become the incredible hulk at about mile 16. Not one but two drivers didn't bother to yield when I fully had the right of way. I stopped in the street full of raging testosterone and yelled "Hey, Red Light!!!: and when the next car turned into me,  I yelled into his open window, "And you too Fucker!".  Yes, it's true, and I'm a little bit ashamed.

"Hasa Diga Eebowai"

Also, just because someone raises their hand, they may not be waving to you. They may be smoking a cigarette.I waved back anyways, they puffed out smoke.

Accountant looking people in suits will give you looks when you are singing out loud.

When you are running, you can't tell how loudly you are singing out loud.

Your brain will tell you that your body can do less than it can, and the trick is not to believe it. No, that's not my thought, I read it somewhere, but it was what I thought about as I ran.

Eminem has gotten me through so many tough moments on runs. I'm a lukewarm fan of his on most days, but on a long run day, I'm a groupie. Maybe it's a white-man angst thing. 

Now it's time to ice that incredibly aching spot in my knee and rest up and taper like a Mo'fo.

Video below from the musical. Rated R.

Bringing It Each and Every Time

It's the easiest thing to do to sign up for a marathon. Just click a few buttons, and Bamn! you're signed up. Just sit back, relax, and imagine yourself with that finish line feeling at the end of the race.

But just signing up doesn't log one mile for you

You can't just casually want to run a marathon, you can't half-ass it. Your internal fire needs to be lit, the flame needs to be sparked, and you need to grab a red hot poker and jam it in your own minds-eye of the tiger and start to feel ferocious.  There's an incredible amount of work that needs to be accomplished, and you can only get there if you are ready to dig deep into your heart and fight the day to day little battles before you are even ready for the 'Boss Stage'. 

Every marathon I've signed up for, there's the the initial excitement.  And then I realize,  Even though I've done a bunch of these, I still have to put in the work for each of them as if it's my first. Finishing a dozen plus marathons doesn't run miles for me, it doesn't start me at mile 6, doesn't guarantee I will make it through training, doesn't guarantee me a finish, it certainly doesn't guarantee me a time.  

Even if you aren't running for time, you need to stay humble and respect the distance or you will get humbled and have your ass chewed up and handed back to you on race day.   Each time you get in the training ring you have to bring it. 

Well, at least this holds true for me, but I know there are runners who's mileage can have them do 26.2 miles with just 24 hours notice, but for me, it's a digging in deep each and every time.

I'm trying to dig dig dig right about now, because it's time to start. 18 weeks until the taper for Bayshore Marathon, and my longest long run is at 14 miles.  I plan to slowly bump up these long runs and do a couple of 16 milers, a couple of 18 milers, and then probably three 20 milers.

Besides this long run schedule, I don't really have a more elaborate training plan. I probably should, but I usually trust my internal marathon-training clock to go off and tell me when the time comes to do some speed work, some tempo runs, some hills, or some marathon pace runs. Sure, it's a bit random, but the actual concrete plan is not the hard part. The hard part is pushing through the pain, but not so much that I stumble off the delicate tight rope and fall into a pit of injuries.  Training is all about getting stronger while playing chicken with some juiced up injury demons. 

You don't do this marathon training by coasting, and there are a few things I do to help me stay motivated to reach deep in training.  One thing I do is write a blog post like this to emphasize the message.

Another way I motivate my training is to get pissed at something. Odd, I know, but it's true.  I had two raging Sandy Hook tragedy runs, and the anger took 15 seconds off each mile for a while.

Another way is to find a cause to run for, something bigger than myself. I've done that a couple times with a cancer run and a Covenant house run. 

Another one is to throw random, mid-stream training fitness tests at myself during training.  I try to throw running challenges in front of me, little roadblocks I have to get over before I hit the big boss challenge. Bet you can't do 8 yasso 800's at this point in training, bet you can't run 4 ten milers this week and hit 40 miles, or, I bet you can't do a 14 miler marathon pace run.

Well, that last one is what I'm gonna try, and is my random self-challenge benchmark of the week.

And while I am doing such a test-run to challenge and test my training, I usually bring out the nasty trash talker in myself. I purposefully let my negative self-talk run wild in order to instigate my running self, saying things like: "You ain't got it no more, you're done, you're slow, you're weak, you can't do this, you're a jogger not a runner, you suck, you suck, and 'You Suck!'"

All of this hoping for my higher self to respond. It's just a way to jam a hot stick with burning marshmallow smores at the tip up my arse into my soul, trying to waken up and antagonize the sleeping running bear within.

No matter the result, either way I win, because if I respond to the challenge, then awesome, if I don't, I know it will just challenge me to train harder.

Of course, I need to pick a realistic pace, and am not sure what my target marathon pace is, but I'll stick with a sub 8 minute mile so I can break what (used to be) the Boston Qualifier pace for my age group.

So, someday soon,  I'm hoping to report on a 14 miler at 1 hour and 52 minutes or under. 

Until then, BAMN! I"m about to sign up for another race.

Yep, today's the day The New York Road Runners will send the 2012 canceled crew an email allowing for a refund or a chance to register for the New York City Marathon.


Signing up is the fun and easy part. Someday soon I will realize I  actually have to train and bring it for this one too.

Patience. Patience. There's Plenty Of Time To Run Faster Later

Patience.  The essential ingredient to bake up anything important.

I needed it recently waiting for a sinus infection to fully pass, that I knew was coming, and in fact, once it started to attack, I basically yelled “bring it on” as I ran a 20 miler during its onset, realizing I”d be sideline afterwards. But, at least it would be with a 20 miler under my belt and what better time to get leg rest. 

Still, I had to wait while the 750 MG of Amoxicillin went to war on the infection. It triumphed as always, but there was collateral damage. My stomach lining felt like it was bleeding, even on runs, and (to quote The White Stripes)  “The stains coming from my blood said go back home.”  But I ran through, cause I was patient with the pain and discomfort that I knew would pass.

Patience – today I’m  waiting for Running Fit to open to see if my shoes are in. The Nike Pegasus 29 were released in July, and I visited the store on Friday. They didn’t have my size, so they had to be shipped from another store.  They said Monday, and in all my patience I hope to be at the store three minutes after they arrive.

Patience, in a way, is key to running an effective marathon.

When the race starts, the excitement of being in the chute with thousands of runners, listening to the anthem, weeks of marathoning mojo building in your legs after a three week taper.  Everything in you wants to tap into that sweet source and whhhoooosshhh through the first miles, which are so soft, swift, and easy. (It’s like butter.)  Yes you have to  wait and wait and preserve energy and hold off on the speed, running the first ten to 13 miles with your head. The urge is to push push push with the runners flying by you, a bunch of Wraskly Wabbits, but you have to let them go. Run your own race.  Be patience.  Many of these rabbits you’ll pick off at the end if you run it right.  The walked wounded will be waiting for you while you slowly build up to your Beast Mode.  Beast Mode at mile 14 is a whole different delicious buzz than is the 1^st mile rush. And you'll eat those rabbits, lick your chops, and finish in beast mode rather than zombie mode.

“There’s plenty of time to run faster later. Plenty of time to run faster later” I tell myself this always in the beginning of marathon to slow myself during the first miles. Sometimes I even listen.

Patience is waiting for a rough spot to pass during the latter miles, telling yourself that just because you feel terrible at a given moment that you’ll run through it, that the nag or pain in your leg may fade, that the Gu may kick in, that seeing your family cheering for you will make everything seem fresh and new again, the air ahead is filled with greater oxygen, seeing another mile marker pass may give you new energy, that this wave of hurt will pass but you have to face it, to endure the momentary pain knowing that you'll rise above.

Muhammad Ali called it “Rope-A-Dope”- hanging on while you were getting pummeled because you would soon fight back with force.

 Or, to quote The Verve (who are they?) 

“Tie yourself to the Mast my friend, and the Storm will end.” 

Or, you “Hold On” just like Wilson Phillips and those Bridesmaids:

“I know that there is pain. But you hold on for one more day and
Break free the chains.”

(Yes, I’m trying to be funny. I see that smirk.)

 Patience is waiting in line for an hour for a roller coaster, which seems tremendously long yet when you finally get to strap yourself in, ride the ride and get off with that childhood glow, you fully forgot the long, slow line but only remember the ride.

Patience for runners comes in all sorts of forms – waiting for an injury to heal, waiting to get faster, waiting to recover.

But, I’m thinking,  is patience the right word.? I’m using Patience in the sense of enduring things, just waiting things out, tolerating, fighting through time until something we really want is going to happen on the other side.  This seems not right since it takes one out of the moment, like it’s the next moments that really matter, and right now doesn’t.

If patience is being at peace and in peace in the moment, whatever that is, I do get that but in fleeting and choppy bits. But if patience is able to endure most anything in order to find some redemption in the suffering? Well, that’s something I take in heavy doses. 

I’m gonna have to leave it at that and be patient and wait for the answer to come to me. “The less I seek my source for some definitive- The closer I am to fine.”

 Off to the shoe store.

The Jade Rabbit on Amazon

STRAY on Amazon

Hansons Shoes Training Run/Brooks-Hansons Distance Project

On Sunday, I completed a 20 mile training run sponsored by the Hansons Shoe Store.  Well, really they sponsored a 16 mile raining run, I did the first four sponsored by our creator, who supplied the sunshine, oxygen, and miracle of Mitochrondia who supplied the energy.

The 16 miles was then offered up by the Royal Oak Hansons shoe shop.

You know the group. The Brooks-Hansons Distance Project sponsors many elite athletes who train together, including recent Olympian Desiree Davila.  If you’ve watched any marathons, you’ve seen the unmistakeable checkered yellow, black, and red jerseys.  And the Hanson brothers seem to show up everywhere. Run a race in Michigan, and you’ve seen them, but I’ve also seen them in Chicago and the Boston Airport.

The Hansons are incredibly active in the community, and have a very popular, unique, and maybe even controversial marathon training plan.  The plan focuses on fairly high mileage, speed, marathon pace runs, and most notably, the absence of the sacred 20 miler run.

 To quote this Runner's World article which explains why they top out at a 16 mile long run; 

 "you're not running the first 16 miles of a marathon, you're running the last 16. We're duplicating that final-miles feeling." Traditional programs overemphasize the long run, he says. Twenty-plus mile efforts sap most runners and compromise the quality of subsequent workouts.

In other words, the plan is designed for solid weekly mileage, hard workouts, and to stop people from making mistakes I make. Yes, that is me. I’m one of those who runs those 20 mile runs and sometimes more, yet the result is I am often then left with  dead legs and unable to nail a good work out for many more days. (especially this training cycle where I’ve done five 20 milers already)

 In my defense

1.      Rather than the 45 minute slower than MP that the Hansons suggest, I do lots of marathon pace miles in my long runs, and have done progressively faster longer runs where the last half are at or below marathon pace (of course, I don’t' even know what my MP is right now? But vaguely I have it down to something like 7:59:48, give or take a tenth of a second.)

2.       After many years of trying, my Boston Qualifier run finally came after, among many other things, I ran my longest training run ever of 23 miles.

3.      I don’t want to always be training, sometimes I want to just ‘run’ and I get the most joy and deep-rooted running highs when I’m chasing the dragon down between miles 15 and 20.

4.      My long runs have been separated by 14 to 21 days, so I have been able to hit some (but not enough) hard workouts of mile repeats, hills, and mid-range marathon pace runs in between.

So, since the Hansons training run was only 16 miles, I got there early and did 4 by myself.  Well, I say mostly by myself, but there was a handful of other runners who were doing exactly the same. Yep, I saw them. I’m not so odd. There’s sanity in numbers. Plus, unlike the folks who, if they were following the Hansons plan, did 6-8 miles the day before, I was coming off a much needed 4 day mini taper.

After just a mile in I could tell that the major debilitating soreness and tightness from earlier in the week was gone, but I was faced with something new:

My throat was sore. Really sore.  Well, maybe a 6 out of ten on the soreness scale, where the days before it had only been a 3 or 4 out of ten.

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Damn it. I woke up wondering if this was the universe telling me not to run today, or was this just a barrier to test my resolve?  Is this an obvious reason to stay home, or just a regular annoyance of training, trying to test if I am man or mouse?  Will I shrivel in fear and stay in comfort, or blast past barriers and rip this sh*t till my bones collapse?  As you can tell, of course, I wanted to run, so I was going to rationalize the latter. Not to mention, the day before I was having a deep discussion on the adage "you will regret the things you do not do, more than the things that you do do."  And damn it I needed this run due to some unique and significant emotional stressors in my life.  The phlegm flew fast and furious to the sidewalk the first few miles, but my legs felt fine. After four miles done, a quick pee break, a change of shoes from my Nike Pegasus to my speedy Kirvana 3's, pre-run instructions in front of the Hansons shoe store,  we were off.  There were about 100 of us, I’m guessing, and it was a perfect 55 degree day.  The course hasn’t changed in the ten years or so I’ve been running it.  The only way I can run a progressive speed 20 miler is first to go into it rested, second, I need to try and bore myself and force myself to hold back the first half when the urge is to push. I get myself geeked to explode as the miles build, and then when the faster miles do come, the goal is to push myself forward when the urge is to slow. In this way, the progressively faster long run mimics marathon day.    After the first loop where I was warmed up but hardly anaerobic, I let my legs run free, never fully sure if they’d respond, but happy with the results. I ran the first 4 at 8:45, then 8 at 8:30, then splits of 8:00, 7:50, 7:40, 7:40, 8:00, 7:55, 7:35, 7:58 I felt great. Maybe not great enough to run 6.2 more at this pace, but I wasn’t supposed to be there yet.  Of course they had refreshments at the end, and offered a discount on store items for runners. I came close to buying a Brooks-Hansons distance project t-shirt, and asked the salesperson if I wore the shirt around would I be mistaken for one of their ‘elites’.  “It hasn’t worked for me” the salesperson said, and so I put it down and remembered my allegiance to cross-town competing shoe store, Running fit. Do you have this in an XX-faster? Grabbed a post-run Chocolate Milk from Mcdonalds Things I learned or relearned As important as it is to mimic race day during these training runs with timing, diet, regiment, there are things you can't recreate. For example, on race day I can't park at the Mcdonalds  across the street from the start, change my shoes after 4 miles, pee behind the Used violin store, and I won’t have to dash through intersections trying to hit the green lights. Trying to hit green lights makes for some great fartleks. The most dangerous drivers are those coming out of fast food drive thru's since their noses are usually buried in their bag of goodies. Sunday early morning walkers have a great aura too them. Sunday is the most spiritual day of the week. The collective spiritual unconsciousness of the human race is just in its best place on Sundays. On the flip side, I love running by cheap motels with strung out folks outside smoking their morning cigarets. Not sure why. It just reminds me of ghosts of my former self and how I've changed.  There were a handful of these hotels up and down Woodward, and I felt the stare from the strung out eyes of cheap motel inhabitants as I cruised on by. Even in a training run, it's more fun to pass people and do negative splits than to be passed. I've been on both sides.  And when somebody is passed, they can't help but try to speed up just a bit. Again, I’ve been on both sides. Bikes along the route supporting runners: I kinda hate them. There was a biker who was there cruising alongside with aid for a runner, (but there was already aid on the course) and here I was running many strides alongside with lots of effort with a bike right in front of me taking one easy pedal every ten yards or so. It just wasn’t’ right, but thankfully I passed them.  This happened during a mile of my recent Ann Arbor marathon course and it struck me the same. Grrrr. Pet peeve.  (and I have this feeling they are going to read this post and flame me right back.) Shhhhh, dont tell anybody, but I always bring Gu to these events, yet still grab one of the Gu’s offered and put them in my pocket to use for the next 20 miler.  It's part of the circle of life.  I need to fix my ipod play-list.  The playlist is front loaded with the faster songs.  I had to maintain a slow pace listening to The White Stripes and Eminem and Led Zeppelin, and the faster miles were run to songs like Empire State of Mind (on there since I’m running New York) and even a Neil Diamond song (don’t ask). My Kirvana 3's make it hard to tell how fast I'm running.  My last 8 miles all felt the same perceived effort, yet they were 20 seconds apart.  The Kirvana's are like an out of control Quidditch broom. I’m on the fence about running with my Kirvana 3’s altogether for my next marathon.  They are so ‘dope’. That's all I can say. Putting them on is like spiderman and his evil black spider suit. Football Sundays are made much more magnificent following a Sunday morning 20 mile run.  Monday mornings, however, always feel a bit blah and a tad bit useless even. The Day After I woke up today, the day after, with a sore throat that is much worse, probably a 8 out of 10 on the soreness scale. No surprise. As long as I don’t’ need more than 3 or 4 days of rest to deal with this cold, no regrets. Otherwise, it will be lessons learned. But sometimes you just want to run for today and the hell with tomorrow, and Sunday was one of those days. 2008 Olympian Runner Brian Sell - Go ahead. Tell this dude not to run. Dare you. Besides, my primary care physician is a marathoner, so If I go there and explain I got 26 more training days for the NYCM, I’m thinking she’ll stick an IV in me and pump me full of some turbo powered, possibly illegal antibiotics or radioactive material that will get me back on my feet. The darkness of early morning, in the Chute, waiting for the New York City Marathon to begin. The Jade Rabbit, on Amazon.  $3.99, the story of a miraculous marathon run. Reviews of The Jade Rabbit STRAY on Amazon   $2.99  Reviews of Stray

A Marxist Running Revolution

This post goes out to my University of Michigan socialist sociology instructor. He was a fairly radical activist, and I am pretty sure was responsible for the nightly spray-painting graffiti  "Can the land be owned? Can the air be owned?"  

He would come to class each day eating a hot dog, and explain how the street vendor hot dog cart had its origins in Capitalism and then explain the Marxist implications. 

I wanted to tell him he had mustard on his always unshaven face, but that would have been so bourgeois of me.

A Marxist Revolution!!

My legs have revolted and gone on strike. 

Yes, my legs are the proletariat of my running world.  They are the tireless working class heroes who support everything. And when I honor and appreciate them, they are masters of their environment and kings of the world.

My ever-pumping heart is the capitalist, providing the funds to keep my body moving.  And my lungs are the government, letting the right amount of oxygen trickle into my running economy to make sure I keep flowing forward efficiently.

And my brain is the investor, always deciding how much risk to invest, when to run that 20 miler, do some speedwork, run some hills, or sign up for a tune-up race, constantly trying to get the best return on my investment.

Well, my brain has finally abused my legs to their breaking point.  Tuesday, I went for what I hoped would be a 8 mile run, and every half mile my calves tightened and restricted so much I couldn't undo them.  They had my running in a stranglehold, and while in times past I could make them work for me with sweet talk and warm ups until they would release instead of squeeze so tightly like a ball of rubber bands wound tight, this was just not to be. They got worse. I only finished six miles and did so in half mile runs and then 100 yard walks, followed by quarter mile runs and then 100 yard walks. 

Sure, they have tried to revolt before but have always been appeased. I ice them to sleep and they feel happy. I warm them in snugly calf sleeves. I promise them some nice muscle building supplements which make them grow and adapt. I give them long weekends and days off.  I try to remind them that in thirty days we will start our NYCM taper.

They even have their own personal masseuse who makes them purrrr.  Yes, everyday I give them a nice, long, orange foam rolling treatment.

No matter. This has not worked, and they are done.  They are now tapped. Tapped out.  Four 20 plus mile runs, a bit more hills and speed thrown in, and weekly mileage that has finally topped out at 40 a couple of times. Not to mention switching to a new minimalist shoe, the Kirvana 3's, which my brain, the investor, has committed to, yet the legs are still in union negotiations to see if they approve.

"We're not as young as we used to be," they remind me, "and there's age groups for a reason. Stop expecting the same thing from us."

I have felt blood pulsating to my calfs as I sleep, clear evidence of a ready to be injured state.  They hurt to the touch in certain places, and just one day off hasn't taken this away.

Sure, I place all the blame on my calfs, but my thighs have been revolting as well, and my knees certainly arent' happy. If only I could have them blame each other. If only the calves would blame the thighs, and if the thighs then pointed fingers at  the knees as the source of the problem.  Then they would fight each other, instead of revolting against the leadership, the head and heart who want them to just keep working, just keep working, and let us reap the benefits. 

But, I need some rest. I will count my blessings that my brain has invested wisely so far into the right kind of workouts to have me ready to rock NYCM, but not so much that I have had to take time off for injury.

The thing is, as much as my legs benefit from running, it is my head and heart I am really running for, and as long as my legs will keep being the workers, I will chase the dragon down and gather up all the highs that lift my heart and make my head so full of fancy.

I"m taking four days off in a row from running. This is day two, and on Sunday I am hoping to do a 20 mile run with the Brooks-Hanson group.  If I feel in the right kind of zone, it will be a progressively faster 20 miler.

Please don't tell my calves all of this. Let them rest and enjoy their break. Sunday morning at 7 am it's back to work.   And as much as my brain can plan when and where and how to spend its time, it is my legs who are in complete control.

If they only knew their power.

The Jade Rabbit, on Amazon  $3.99, the story of a miraculous marathon run.

Reviews of The Jade Rabbit

STRAY on Amazon   $2.99 

Reviews of Stray 

22 Miles On A Record-Breaking Memorial Day

The last long run of a marathon training program is a climactic event. In some ways, more so than the actual marathon, which is sort of a victory lap.  I always approach them trying to mimic race day; eating the same, wearing the same things, running at the same time, twisting my thoughts in the same exact bent.

Ideally I look for a sponsored training run, and Running Fit was having one Saturday in Ann Arbor.  Unfortunately, my family was taking a weekend trip so couldn’t attend, so instead chose a solo run on Monday morning,

Since I like to run this last long run on semi-rested legs, my challenge was taking a three day trip without running.  This wasn’t easy, as Grand Haven had wonderful running routes along a lake front boardwalk and tons of trails.  I feel like I experience any new area best through the eyes of, and on the adventure of, a nice morning run. As it was, I stayed inside with the kids while my wife went for her workout along the lakeside. The only movements I did was lots of walking and chasing Frisbees. Lake Michigan was frigid so I imagined the water icing my still sore knees while we waded in the waves. My shoes remained at home, also resting in my closet.

The next challenge was mapping a route around my hometown’s very popular and quite large memorial day parade. It cut me off from my main running routes along 8 mile, so I spent a good chunk of time on Mapmyrun, and found a route that connected two gas stations (where I go to buy water and other needed supplies, and then hide them in shaded areas.) The route included the much needed hills to prepare me, and a way to run around the parade and return home.

The weather was 70 degrees at the start, but soon lifted up to 85 for much of the run, on its way to a Detroit Memorial Day-record breaking heat of  95 degrees. All under a perfectly (monstrously) blue sky.  After all the comments on posts I had written across the blogosphere on not canceling races due to heat, and threatening to still run these races using water from the sewer to hydrate and the bile of passerby’s for Gu, I certainly couldn’t let the heat dissuade me.

My legs were eager, and I started off way faster than I should have, and my whole plan to make this a progressively faster run was shot. Instead it was a sporadically faster run, with four 7:50’s and a couple of 8 minute miles mixed in with the rest averaging 8:20.

I took more breaks than usual at my self-made aid stations to pour water over my neck or swallow some s-caps in the shade.  Same way, I assume, that if (when) it’s 80 plus degrees during the marathon I will walk through aid stations to make sure to grab more than one cup of water.  I swear with every s-cap I took, I immediately tasted the salt streaming down my face into my mouth.

Oh, the strange skills we use.  In order to space out the water, I grabbed a a smaller water at the gas station and carried it for a a couple miles to hide it in the middle of my route.  I stashed it amongst some trees, but realized, like a pot of gold, I may never be able to find where I buried it, so I broke off some branches, and laid them on the other side of the sidewalk pointing to the life-saving water for a later miles.  A water cairn.

 And while I am sure the heat effected my time, I sort of enjoyed it.  Anything that makes my head a bit more hazy, makes me more prone to running hallucinations, and increases the running stud factor is all good.

The route had some nice hills, about 4 miles of a 2-3% incline and 2 miles of 3-5 % incline. Overall, the 22 mile route had 322 feet of elevation gain.  This was a fair challenge, but just a minor sparring partner for the 525 feet that the Ann Arbor 26.2 has waiting for me.

Never try anything new on marathon day, is a familiar adage, but for this long run I did. I hardly ever use Sunscreen, but since my noggin was roaring red from the weekend at the beach, I applied a high-grade Walgreen 30 SPF to my head and nose.  Well, as the sweat poured out my body, the blinding cream poured into my eye, and in my attempt to wipe it away, the leftover Vaseline on my hand I had used for body lube to stop from chaffing was added to the mix. The result was a blinding venom, and  I did at least 3 miles with one eye closed and cleansing tears filling my eye.

“I can’t see nuthing," I mumbled,  "You gotta open my eye.  Cut me Mick, cut me Mick....”

 But it was the aching legs that were the real challenge.   They already felt sore at mile 14, where in previous trainings this doesn’t happen, and I know it’s a function of my low weeky mileage.  This whole Ann Arbor marathon thing was just supposed to be a warm up to train for New York, and I’ll need to remind myself of that more than once I’m sure.

The greatness of a last long run allows me to change my self-talk a bit.  “After this, your training stops, it's all over, just this one left...” I could yell at my legs.   I told them the usual lies, like ‘we’ll take a whole week off after today” which of course isn't true.  “There is no tomorrow” I also screamed at them in my brain, not a full lie but maybe a half-truth.   I did what I could to summon everything out of me to get to that place where my greatest running passion springs forth.

And yes, there’s nothing like what gets pulled out of you during a long run, and that feeling when you finally arrive home, 3 Gu’s, 6 S-caps, and 22 miles later.  Another thing I took note of is, (as narcissistic as this could sound) I am always anxious to look at myself in the mirror after a long run. I want to see the slime on my face, the look in my eye, the beating blood-red head, all to see the metamorphosis of what the experience has done to me, since every time I accomplish these things I feel like a new beast.  It’s like the run is a full moon, and sucks the werewolf right out of me.

And, the beast I had turned myself into felt deliciously exhausted and hungry, and began to devour things. Here's what I ate the rest of the day:

8 ounces of strawberry recoverite                   

8 ounces of chocolate milk                                            

A chobani yogurts                                           

Carrots                                                                      
Peach                                                             
Cheeseburger                                               
 Hot dog                                                           

Franks and beans                                            

Corn                                                                

3 scoops of ice cream                                      

Apple Pie                                                        

Handful of Honey BBQ chips                                    

Kit kat.     

Ah, taper time. Time to eat, get fat, rest, and have my mentally deranged, tapering mind fight to roll back every mile I ran and tell myself I'm under-trained, I'll never finish, what the hell was I thinking, and of course, imagine all sorts of phantom injuries.                                                                   

Read "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 
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Running and Reality Therapy - Assesing Efforts Towards Your Running Goals.

Yet another post where I put my therapist hat on along with my running shoes. 

I had a blast writing about being diagnosed with a running addiction based on the new DSM criteria. 

Then I followed it up with William Glasser's alternative perspective of running as a Positive Addiction.( I'ts worth noting that Glasser felt that "The DSM  is the most destructive book to human relationships that have ever been written.")


Glasser is the brain behind Reality Therapy, a here and now approach that promotes personal responsibility, self-evaluation, and planning and commitment to change. Reality Therapy asks us to decide:

1. What do we really want?
2:  What are we doing to get what we want?
3:  Evaluate, is it helping?  And then,
4. What can we do differently?  At this point, it's time to commit.

In this sense, Dr. Phil's saying "and how's that working for you" comes straight from this theory.

And in this sense, most runners are actively practicing Reality Therapy, or if not, might want to think about their running goals in this framework.

For example asking yourself:   

What do you want?  To run injury free? to qualify for boston?  to finish a marathon? to qualify for the olympics? run in a zombie run and not get caught?  run a full marathon taking pictures along the way, tweeting every half mile, and live podcasting your run?  If your goals aren't yours then you're just not gonna show up. And there's no reason to chop down a bunch of trees making a path through a forest you have no desire to be in.

This can of course be boiled down to individual runs. What do I want from this run?  Just to warm up and recover? speedwork? endurance? to reduce stress so I stop yelling at the guinea pigs?

What have you done to get it?
This is where I think a training log really helps.  Your brain won't remember things accurately, but if you can have multiple marathons' training programs on paper - and not what you were supposed to do but what you really did - it can help.  You can look back and see where you've been, and you can let others provide their feedback as well. Us runners are data freaks. Data Junkies.  We would bath in data if we could.

Is it helping? Is what you are doing getting you closer to what you need? Measure your wants versus your realities. Is training providing the the results you want?  do I keep bonking out at mile 21, yet not changing my training pattern? Am I constantly injured?Am I never happy during an event yet always finding something to blame besides my own training?  Go on any golf course, and you'll see the duffer out there, always swearing and cussing at his game, yet never changing his swings or changing his expectations.

Yes, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  

And one of the unique things about marathon training is, since you typically only run one or two a year, it takes incredible patience and persistence to mix up your training and then wait months to see if it is working or not. Yes, as it is said, it's all an experiment of one.  I did a similar training pattern for nearly ten years trying to qualify for Boston (yes, I"m sick and suffering and hard-headed) and then I finally changed it up with a training plan that would look ridiculous if put into a runners world article, but it was this change that finally allowed me to nail my BQ.

What else can you do? Brainstorm ideas, something to break your pattern, get suggestions from everywhere and every person you can, and then commit to something new, but something personal. (I think many runners are as hurt by following template training plans as they are helped. Here's my secret formula). Do you need to throw in more miles or less? recover more, do more long runs, more speedwork, eat better, take more fiber?  If someone told you to stand on your head and whistle because it will help in your recovery, are you willing to try?

Then it's time to commit, and with  reality therapy, that's where the therapist/client relationship increases your accountability, gives you someone to get feedback from, as you constantly assess and evaluate if you are self-sabotaging your efforts. And this is not just through behavior but erroneous thoughts and feelings and undue self-criticism.

In running, the feedback to constantly evaluate comes from your body, your race times (possibly), your joy in running, your coach if there is one, those pains in your knees and your calves and your arse or wherever it hurts, and all those tingly little endorphins that are buzzing through your blood and seeping their way into your heart telling you "I must be doing something right."

Read "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 
Reviews of The Jade Rabbit

Read "STRAY", by Mark Matthews, now just $2.99

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