The results are in!

I'm about to tell you a tale of the results of that 2012 Fitness Challenge I frassed about at the start of the year, here. For my friends who were really hoping the blog would be more "cat-centric", I'm sorry to report the kitties had to go back to their "real" dad. Also, for the visually stimulated among the lot of you- I apologize for no before or after pictures. My genial narcissism is tempered by my own self-consciousness/loathing...and dislike of topless photo's/photo's in general of myself. While I promise to keep this more factual than nauseatingly self-deprecating...I just think it'll be funnier if I tell it to you in...my own voice...Mostly, if you're interested in how the regime actually worked out for me.

Pictured: How I look at the end of a treadmill workout as I hang from the handrails- grimacing like I'm constipated and complete with a tubful of sweat, claws, and easily groomable body-hair.

Yesterday I was standing on the landing by the front door and rocking my winter running "costume" when I had an epiphany: While it is February...and stupidly balmy for MN...and there was really no reason I shouldn't go for a run...I actually said:

Fuuuuuck this.

And then I stripped out of my layers and crawled into bed for a power-nap. Do you know why? Because I was tired, and refused to feel guilty. And January is over, sucka's.

Not to put a fine a point on it- Le results, for the numerically saavy: (January 2012)

Total Workouts (Running/Weights/Karate): 37
Total Hours: 25
Total Miles: 80
Total Calories burned (est): 15,000

Height: 5' 10"
Weight: (pre) 183 (post) 180
(Note: Several of the workouts were doubled up and factually I worked out about 70% of January. Also, I don't log my "wake-up" routine of stretching/core work/upper body awakening. Or as Mr. McConnaughey sez: "Push-ups n' Sit-up's...all right all right all right")

So what did I learn? What was I hoping to gain from this? Going in, I was excited at the prospect of adhering to a new routine and sticking to it. To "not" give lipservice to training and really work my nards off- celebrity/professional athlete style! I knew that I'd either have to spend a considerable amount of time doing it. (Indicating that I either was very dedicated, or had no life to speak of. And let me tell you, friends- It's hard not to think you're the latter versus the former) I partly believed that my body would have a quick-ish response to the training and the results would be -hopefully- immediate. True, I wasn't eliminating everything from my diet like some pre-contest bodybuilder or Spartan king.

Put the Merlot and Muenster Cheese down, motherf#cker...

I figured I had my calories measured so that I was maximizing my input/output necessary to facillitate my workouts and burn any other superfluous nonsense. My OTHER hope was to navigate down toward the 170's pound-age wise...but outside of a handful of times during a morning weigh-in I never dropped down there. Sure, I went down notch on my belt. And of COURSE the stupid fast twitch muscle fibers in my arms liked having a day all to themselves. And while it wasn't shapely and sculpted, whatever subsequent weight loss happened as a result of spending more time isolating my chest allowed me to make out the (hopefully benign) sebaceous cyst that's lived in the area around my sternum my whole life.

Cyst? What cyst? I can't find anything between these throw-pillows I call my chest.

Lastly? Man oh Man oh Man oh Man. I got soooooo fah-king tired. (occasionally) Trying to run at 5 then going to work at 6-7am then hitting the gym afterwards- OR going from the gym to karate to home again? (Karate "suffered" the most. I only wedged in 2 visits in January.) My ass felt like lead. And the soreness? In my muscles? Never really went away. There was always something new ripping and tearing and re-growing. My neck and back felt sledgehammered. (Which, if the article is to be believed, means I'm storing a shit ton of eeeevil on a cellular level...)

I started to get tired of the gross and sweaty laundry I was doing sometimes twice a week. The feeling like I had to bundle up for an outdoor run and the subsequent peeling off of clothes just because it was nice out. (Or because the cute couple I pass every morning that runs together made me feel guilty) The (sometimes) two showers a day. I ended up developing an unhealthy addiction to caffeine (natch) in order to push through the day which played hell with my tummy. And if I was going to a gig at the end of the day? I couldn't even nap because I was always exhausted AND wound up!

And in the end? I didn't even manage to do the 6 days on 1 off! Sometimes I'd give it a day, two days in between here and there. I literally could not even drag my butt out the front door or from work to the gym-And I brought my gym bag every single day. (To be fair, I convinced myself that they were getting grossly tired of seeing my face daily at the club) Finally, I reiterated this to myself. I thought: "This is why models and superstars are paid the big bucks. This is why bodybuilders & fitness enthusiasts get sponsers". And I didn't want to even be built like either.

I just wanted to try on something new for a bit and stick with it.

Without seeming like I'm grumbling too much: The original idea was, truly, to determine if that type of exercise was a good option for my overall wellness/strength. I think it was a good experiment, and like all workout kerfluffles in my life I'm keeping what was useful and discarding what isn't. The leg work alone made karate easier to recover from (and the karate has been helping my reflexes- I mean, in a useful way...I can't tell you how cool it is to be able to keep the bottle of Summit that you just accidentally tipped over from falling off the counter without spilling a drop.) Spending time focusing on one body-part does along (some) room for recovery and isn't forcing your body to over-tax. (And appear like an equipment hog)

And I still really like going to the gym. This much I'm fairly certain of. And making that and karate into second homes keeps me honest and out of trouble. Add to that, over the last 30 days or so I've spoken with people who are not only returning to the gym, but some just starting to discover their own path to health, weight-loss, wellness, etc. And as a motivator, that gets me jazzed to keep going as well. I might have been fibbing a bit when I said I'm dedicating the month of February to the couch (Although "Deadwood" is taking over my life). Sue me.

And I'll see y'all at the gym.

2012 Fitness Regime!

Righto! Fourth-a, Fourth-a, Fourth-a January and it's about time to come clean with the new regime! I mentioned that I was going to try a few new things to shake up my aging carcass in terms of health/wellness and new things it shall be. (It's here that I feel it encumbent to point out that one of the many reasons I don't make the typical resolutions is that I feel fairly okay with the fact that I have exercised and ate right for the last several years. That's not a bragging point, mind. Clearly it's not turned me into an Adonis or challenged me in the way my running workouts have, you know?)

Anyway, we're breaking things down anew this year and as I pointed out earlier I've got a whole new bag of old-cheap moves to try out on myself in 2012. And it starts with chucking the current routine and embarking on something a little more ambitious than I've been accustomed to but hopefully (after a 1-2 month attempt) may start to prove results. And it actually starts by keeping the weight routine pretty simple by attacking the body 1 piece at a time.

(Routine bogarted from the December 2011 Muscle and Fitness)

The weight routine works similarly to a circuit routine, minus hitting all body parts during the same workout. For my part, I've been engaging in moderate (in both frequency and intensity) "super-sets" for the better part of the last 6-7 months. From a time-saving standpoint, it isn't really a bad workout and moreover it's great for being able to tax two contrasting muscle groups that work opposite each other for maximum affect. Problem is? I'm a little stuck right now.

So, the new work-out will be incorporating tenets of both bodybuilding and sports/strength-training by following a "6 on-1 off approach". (Focusing on working one body part, once a day, six-days in a row. The LEGS get special attention* with one light and lastly one heavy workout day before your final day of rest.) This goes on for 3-4 weeks before a rest week and the resuming. If I'm not feeling peachy or I don't look dead-nasty sexy with my clothes off (or have dropped 10-15 consistent pounds. I'll take either) Then I'll shuck it and look into a new routine. I might even try throwing in the occasional "century"** workout too.

In short:
Sun- Arms (Bicep/Tricep/Forearm)
Mon- Off
Tues- Legs (light)
Wed- Moobs (Chest)
Thurs- Back
Fri- Shoulders
Sats- Legs (heavy)***

Ambitious? Yes! However I've a bit of free time for the next...for a bit, and if I can continue this sans distraction I'm hoping for some palpable results. (Also, I'll be able to take my time with the equipment. Supersets are great, but as soon as you get your ass off a bench to go switch exercises SOMEone will be bound to swoop in your place. And hey! The time saved will be about the same since I'm focusing on one body part versus two.)

But...but Michael?!?! Where's all the RUN-ning bulls#it you've been boring us with?!?! Funny that- I'm in the middle of my 3rd draft of an article to submit to "RW" magazine on my own journey (and the help I've received from friends) of becoming someone who enjoys distance running. Does that mean I'm done racing? Mmmmmnahh. I'm still on the fence whether I'm planning on entertaining thoughts of Grandma's Glory (I'm pretty sure I'd be crew-less. Not a big deal, but I don't know if running w/o moral support from buddies so far away from my home base is something I'm ready for)

Anyway, for the 1st quarter of 2012 I plan on dialing it back a bit. I'm getting new kicks to break in, but I don't plan (really) doing any runs in excess of 6 miles - at the longest- and possibly doing the 5 weeks on- 1 week off (or reduced mileage to 20-30% of my "normal" miles---which has been floating around 20-30 miles a week. Weird.) Anyway, I'll still be logging my mileage on Dailymile and Mapmyrun. LOOK OUT! Chugga-Chugga-Chugga. One of the bigger things is I plan on dragging my ass outside to start finding new and wonderful places- in state and out- to go hike/run. I think 2011 was criminally under-hiked. There, I said it. Ground must be pounded.

My martial goals are fairly simple: Black belt. Nearly 15 years at it means no excuses, and my biggest motivator right now is "Don't beat yourself up (snerk) if you miss one night. Just go consistently- weekly- and build up your skills, strength, and abilities until you get it." Easy, huh? I started in Mid-to-Early November and gave myself a (loose) 1-Year goal. I started once a week, bumping up to twice a week. I've ordered new sparring shoes and a bo, and have already sewn and re-sewn repairs on my uniforms. When my gear arrives, I fight. Easy. I might even toss a tourney or two in there. Might. Again, nothing more ambitious with karate besides my immediate 12-month plan.

As for food, I'm keeping it the same: Light meals, mostly vegetarian. Lots of vegetables, fruits, brown rice, quinoa. Work lunches are going to still be spinach salad w/legumes and a hearty light soup. I've taken to keeping nuts and low-fat cheese around the house to keep the edge off if I get peckish. I'm still drinking 1.5 gallons of water a day and I have NO intention of giving up my 2-3 cups of coffee. So there.


That's it. No pictures to be posted, before or after. I WILL try to be more diligent with the statuses and I'll let y'all know how it goes!

*I've tried to synch up my leg workouts to coincide w/karate. It's a great warm up and with a few near-miss classes that felt like I snapped my hamstring, I found out later that getting on the machinery has helped get some of my flexibility (and speed) back. On leg days, I'll also be choosing a different aerobic post-weight workout like the bike or elliptical.

**I tried this with my last chest/back super-set before New Years...and wow. Try doing 1 resistance exercise per body part (2 if you're into masochism) and do 1 set for 100 reps. Yup. Light enough that you can count to 100 doing bench presses, squats, bicep curls, crunches...name it. I could barely lift my arms. Good as a once and a while deal.

***As my high school conditioning coach would say to me: MIKE! DO YER SQUATS!!! If you aren't doing open squats...even on a Smith Machine- do it. Best damn exercise to get better at IMO. More so than the hack sled, nautilus , inverted squat rack...you name it.

Make your early heart-healthy resolution!

(Article attached below) When I'm treadmillin', if I'm not running lines or plugged into the local news/Jeopardy I'll occasionally grab a magazine from the gym courtesy shelf by the exercise bikes. Mostly it's to cover the 'mill monitor (I dislike constantly knowing my time/mileage if I'm doing a long-ish dreadmill run. I'll occasionally peek to see where I am, but mostly it's a better motivator for me to concentrate on running form or listen to "S-words for $400, Trebek!") Magazines just aren't easy to read on the 'mill...typically failing in staying open unless you're just walking.

I grabbed the most recent Musclemag International (One of the rags I used to subscribe to in my youth. This one had a vein-y moose-y guy on the cover advertising "bigger delts just by sitting down!!!") and after about 3 miles or so I decided to start flipping through the advertisments (of which, 3/4th's of the magazine is comprised) bodybuilding workouts (of which...okay, I confess I might try one starting in January. Details to follow.) And found a list of articles called "Muscle Bites" (whatever. I don't work creative for the rag, okay?) and in it, there were the monthly doses of wisdom/random fitness facts- one of which prompted me to bogart the article from the magazine, research some of the facts, and post it here today.

(Sources cited. I found this particular article fascinating since it falls within conversations I've had recently with some other gym-rat buddies- not necessarily argumentative, mind you. I just like the simple logic behind it. And the American Journal of Physiology. Natch. Enjoy.)

DUST OFF THE RUNNING SHOES (Musclemag Dec 2011 issue, in "Muscle Bites")

Although studies have shown weight training increases metabolism and therefore helps to burn calories longer after a workout, researchers at Duke University Medical Center (Durham, NC) conducted an 8-month study that found aerobic exercise (such as jogging) is better than resistance training for losing belly fat in particular. Aerobic training greatly reduce visceral and liver fat (found in the abdomen), improving risk factors for heart disease and other health problem, whereas weight training alone didn't.

Aerobic exercise burns 67% more calories than weight training.

Source: American Journal of Physiology , published 8/16/2011

Please note: This was included with other "bites" including "Daily Exercise Reduces the Risk of Death" and another article advising to speed your metabolism w/Hot Peppers.

Farewell to Grundlepusses...

Deuce Castle: The Punisher. (We watched "Punisher: War Zone" last night. A crazy, crazy movie- btw. Not "bad". Just..."Crank" level crazy. Also, my pacifist charge did not want to pose with said replica gun. Good boy.)

Today will mark the end of my dog-sitting posts. It's been a fun test-drive for a while, however I'm looking forward to getting back to routine over the Holidays with the last month or so having been a roller-coaster of sorts. It'll also serve as a explanation as to why I'm far from a suitable candidate for pet ownership of any sort. (Seriously? There seems to be this unspoken arbitrary concept that if you have a yard, and own a home? You need a pet. This, friends, is just not the case with me.)

So...did you guys know that I work out? Yeah yeah...so one of the dumb things I usually don't riff about here is the non-run/karate/weight-centric stuff that comprises my morning "routine". Almost every work day morning, in lieu of coffee I try and stretch out and do core work and push-ups. (Skipping the crunches/leg lifts at the gym saves time. And if you aren't doing your ab work- do. After 20 years, I figured out that I actually notice when I my "center" is getting weak...and not just "flabby")

Deuce...has hindered that a bit. By way of saying he lays across my chest or puts his paw on my forehead. Or tries to crawl under my body. And pushing him away actually encourages him. I'd like to think he's playing "personal trainer", but it's actually kind of a nuisance.

And that's...that's just a small part of it. It's "cute" when he sleeps in my bed but he's a hog. There's also the responsibility. I've been flying solo this last month and in getting used to being "alone" means I need to acclimate myself to the concept of what my day to day is going to be like. To "ride the waves" and just see how and where life carries me. Dig? Every day this week I've been scampering home like a wombat to let him out, getting up earlier to feed him, get him his specialty food. Oh, and the cost. I'm a floater with out a large amount of disposable income, and what income I do have? I want to/like to travel. (Have you any IDEA how expensive dog food is? Moda's cat food with the noble cougar on the bag was like taking out a 2nd mortgage whenever you had to hit Petsmart!) Not to mention vet visits, emergencies, shots, other pets, "walkies".

Lastly...'nother little known fact? I'm a neatnik. Ever since first setting out on my own it's been my "thing". Make the bed. Hang up the clothes. Vacuum/Dust regularly. Make sure the sinks empty at night etc. (RECESSIVE GENE? RECESSIVE GENE!!!) And the things that I've never been a huge fan of regarding pets involve de-linting, de-pooping (either the backyard or a cat box) and trying to keep foul smells to a minimum. So I guess that goes for both pets and babies. ZING!

See, outside of girlfriends/roommates? I've never "owned" a pet of my own. With Georgie Teh Kitteh, I had a Jellybean roommate who was (if you can believe it) more obsessive with the maintenance of the beast than even I could ever be. (If you ever saw his daily morning routine...of how he fed him. Cleaned the box daily, including getting down on his hands and knees to hand-sweep into a dustbin any residual litter...well it's actually fairly inspired.) And with the Deuce, while it's nice that the Bean has volunteered daily to be on dog-walking detail for both of their benefit? It's not something I can rely on the day-to-day. Nor would I impose that on him. Without the Bean, I'd have been running home over lunch to let him out.

Soooo...yeah. The few benefits I've glommed this week are that he's a low-key dog who doesn't bark and has good fur...and my roommate likes taking him for the occasional walk to meet chicks. My dressing him in funny poses makes me a weirdo versus a quality pet owner.

So that's that. I'm good for pet-sitting, to be sure. And I'm good with animals. But like with babies, I like to be able to give them back and return to my peaceful albeit frassy day-to-day. Couple that with a streak of worry-wortness. Mea Culpa, yo.

For your benefit, and for those aminal (sp?) lovers out there who've enjoyed seeing the hootenanny hijinks of one Mssr. Deucalion, I leave you with photos my roommate took of him frolicking at the dog park. Say buh-bye, Deuce-y! Hep Hep Hep Hep HEP!!!


This is my stick. There are many other sticks like it, but this one is mine.

Frolic and romp. The Jellybean was a little nonplussed with the park, citing that it was a "sausage-fest". I don't get it? Doggeh's love snausages. (I told him to try a Saturday or Sunday if he wishes to see the lovelies...or drive him to Minnehaha)

The Bean mentioned a brief panicky stare down when the pointer down there gave in to his baser instincts and growled at the Deuce. An intervention occurred.

King of the Hill?

King. Of. The. M##herF##king Hill. Beeeeeeyotch.

Come back! Come BACK, Deuce!!! Deuce...Don't GO!!!

Au Revoir, pal. See you on Adam's couch. Or when he goes out of town and doesn't want to pay for a pet hotel. ; )

In which we close down the marathon season...

...for now. I guess Team Ortho added a half-Marathon this coming January to the Polar Dash and...I'm sorry. That should be renamed the Frostbite 13. Not worth the commemorative medal, nuh-uh...

Pictured: The author, pre-Monster Dash on 10/29/2011. Temperatures at approximately 7:30 a.m. were hovering in the high 20's. Yes. Feeling was lost in our extremities.

Well I survived the final half-marathon of 2011 and I'm pleased to say my easy-going gameplan entering the race paid off in the form of shaving 14 minutes off of my previous half-marathon PR. Pip.

And it was cold, too. Lord. Frosty ground. Knee-rattling weather. It seemed (as we pulled up next to the cathedral in a rock-star space) that the rock-star space was going to be the only respite. Thankfully, there's a church nearby! They'll take in the tired and poor huddled runners! Right? Kind of. The interior temperature wasn't much warmer than outside. The bishops were crusting out (mildly) the runners who were posing for pictures and fouling their restroom with their pre-race constitutionals while they tried to perform their Saturday morning service.

I was too busy mentally wondering how I'd manage getting in and out of my Spidey-suit in order to pee a second time with fingers that were numb if I was separated from Moda. (For a funnier story about that and her own reflections, go here.) By the time we decided to head outside to see if it had warmed up (It hadn't) the grounds and streets around cathedral hill were now swarming with runners- from the meticulously planned and hilariously costumed (There were Q-Tips, Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding, generic "kitty-cats", plenty of "Where's Waldos", Animals, Aliens, Produce ala' "banana-man", cave people, and in our group: The game "Operation", Audrey Hepburn, Spider-Mikey, and an overworked and exhausted writer/actress) to the hard core runners...in their technical tops, wraparound shades, fleece hoodies, gobs of body glide for their nips and anti-glare for under their eyes.

In other words, those who looked warm, comfortable, and ready...and the rest of use be-lycra'ed idiots.

Pictured: Be-lycra'ed idiot #7365. Does my choice of super-hero make me look fat? Or the oft-commented superfluous short-shorts? Whatever. It cut out the wind-chill to the little web-shooter if you know what I mean.

After a freezing stand-around waiting in front of the Biffies while the pre-gun countdown was announced, we managed to dress (I did, anyway) and do a fast trot to find the 2:00 pace group. (Our only "real" strategery was to hang out with that particular group and see how we were feeling periodically on the course.) We found our way to an empty pocket. Did some quick hammy and quad stretches while making small talk around us (met a guy who had just ran his first ultra) and then "Boom". Go time.

After the 1st 2 miles or so Moda asked to hang back a little to have a comfortable and enjoyable run while I attempted my due diligence by standing next to the lady with the time-stick. After engaging with small chit-chat with some other runners we came to our first down hill and I got all excited for the burst of speed. So looking down at my little scamper steps I motored, only looking up when the road started even-ing out and the cop cars started bottle necking us in...and realized I had promptly lost my pacer. Fudge.

Thankfully, I still saw some costumed butts up ahead that were originally in my line of vision so I hung with them. And if I passed'em, I'd find new butts to stare at. Isn't racing fun? Occasionally I'd do the doofy thing and blather lines in the "voice" of whatever costume I'd pass next to. (Count von Count for example was "6! 6, magical miles remaining...Ah. Ha. Ha. Haaa!" Ron Burgundy got "ST.PAUL! Founded by the Aztecs in the 16th century, it's Spanish for 'WHALE'S VAGINA'...!" Stuff like that) I checked in with Garmin'd people to get a rough sense of pace and chatted with some older folks- with a second agenda to make sure they were doing okay. (Mile 7 tends to be the pain-in-the-ass wall during Half-Mary's that can be hard to overcome with out a little motivation, IMO.)

And I guess that was it, too. I kind of felt what Moda told me about when she did Grandma's and there were long stretches with no friends/cheerleaders/run-buddies keeping you company. Just you and the chilly and bright fall parkway. Which wasn't bad. Just, soul-searingly desolate. It was here I sort of missed my Ipod, actually. (To be fair, A/D + Henry were on the course...and I'm pretty sure I scared the shit out of the people around me when- at mile 10- I screamed this!)

To wrap up...I had a little cutie pie catch up with me yelling "Spider-Man! I've been using you to keep pace!" and so we kept each other company until around mile 11.5. Her first half-Mary with a similar goal of finishing sub-2:00, I gave what meager pointers I felt weren't insulting or intrusive ("Let's work those downhills!"/"Looking great!"/"I hit 'reset' when we got to mile 10...so we just have a lil' old 5K race left!" and that sort of frassy ilk.) And with the city and the thickening crowds indicating the end was near I put on the best burst of speed I could muster. (It was here that I realized I should have been wearing a Spidey suit for every race with the number of people screaming "Go Spidey GO!" towards the end.)

I eyeballed the clock and was painfully satisfied that I actually was able to make it back in sub-2:00 with some change...(The clock reading 2:06 as I hit the medal line.) and it wasn't until my friends came over the line and were able to check the times on the website that Moda pats my arm and said "Holy shit, Mikey...1:53:02?!?"

14 minutes better than my last PR at the Boom.

40 minutes faster than my first half in 2010 at the Mpls Marathon.

I barely registered this b/c I was too busy laughing at the banana-suited guy trying to get his medal over the top of his costume which was about 2 feet higher than his actual head.

So yes. I'm really pleased. This was a big-frassy accomplishment for me that I can honestly say one year ago I'd have never completed. (Moreover, I've a better understanding of how proud Moda was last year during the same race when she PR'd with her best at sub-two. It's a great feeling. Until you can barely find yourself standing upright waiting for your mylar cape.)

Good job, Team Awesome!

Pictured: Proud Monster Dashers, racing and running friends, trail and course Ipod lip-synchers/air-guitarists, and on the far right...naked clowns.

In which we run "scary" far...

Pictured...part of my Monster Dash ensemBLAH! "Spider-Mike and his AMAZING Friends!" Convenient that I had it sittin' in storage, more importantly when I dug it up I still had the stretchy winter gloves I had originally used back in 1998 or so. (Nice for a chilly morning trot) The puff paint was a spur-of-the-moment piece of artistic improvisation that I immediately regretted when I proceeded to get it all over my hands, forearms, legs, and yes...my face. And it stains.

Also...wrist-shooter wrist bands? Hello? Geek? Or CREATIVE MISUNDERSTOOD GENIUS?!?!

The Monster Dash marks my LAST race of the season in 2011- a season marked with fairly dramatic personal improvement, IMO, as well as a new found sense of camaraderie with my friends and new runners who've decided to brave the pavement in pursuit of logging ridiculous weekly distances. I've approached my last two Half-Mar's without gunning for PR's or other lofty goals and I found myself actually planning out and setting up a training plan for this one
in the interest of (hopefully) finishing it Sub-Two. Which over the last two weeks...I more or less dropped.


Rock N' Roll, Spider Nike Mikey. Not pictured: Where'll the Garmin live?

It's not that I don't want to finish sub-two or attempt to use this race as my first attempt to really push the shit out of myself...I just got into my head a liiiiittle too much. I started getting pings and pains here and there. Then the last few weeks of October got themself good and filled from morning to night with work, rehearsal, tours, etc...not to mention I was racing the clock with house projects, the garden, the lawn...MN pre-winter prep...I felt up to my eyeballs in stuff...and by last week or so my lofty race goals just kind of started to... drift a bit.

That said, I performed a mental Etch-A-Sketch shake and reset my brain to "simplify", and made a new game plan which is simply to do my best to run a good race. Go the distance running. To push myself (and hang with the 2:00 hr pace group for as long as possible). To finish strong. And most importantly to have fun with my friends who have been (whether aware or not) a source of pride, support, and joy since we started our outdoor trots together back in April. (Remember the picture FeeJ snapped?)

And seriously? A body suit that can effectively serve as cold-weather technical gear? I pity anyone trying to run in those stupid "Sexy" costumes. (And for people who use face paint make-up. Man. If I tried to be a Zombie Runner? Besides looking like a douchebag? My face would be a gray and red runny mess by mile 3). I think that my being dressed as Die Spinne will be much easier to spot than when I'm wearing super high modesty-proof shorts. Possibly.

I'm not gonna lie- I'm insanely happy to be done with the distance running for 2011. It'll be nice to get back into a routine where I'm runnin' shorties without worrying about tempo/hill/speed work. I'm excited to get back to the karate studio to work on "different" muscles and to start sparring again. To go to the gym to "only" lift weights...yeah. For a while, anyway. Or until I get a bug up my ass to do a full Mary. One day at a time, Michael. Please.

Lastly- I'm starting to write an article that I hope to submit to Runner's World for their blog, or even for their magazine. I can't stress enough that the 12 months have been both a hard and yet wonderfully transformative time for me while I wear this strange distance "running" persona I've adopted. I'd like to think the story I tell (One that isn't relegated to my frassy blog soundbites) is one that might provide runners- new or old- with the kind of support and insight that I've found on my distance trots. It's been a trip.

I leave y'all with my umpteenth plea to come out and support the Monster Dash 2011. The adoration and cheers of the crowds are one of the most appreciated parts of the experience. And I hope to see you out there. Oh, and this guy? This guy stays clean until Halloween. Or maybe brunch after the race. See you on the course...

B4/After

pictured: Screaming agony at mile 9. Empty water. Short-circuited MP3. And a GU packet sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth...And who taught me how to put on a bandana?(6/2010)

Pictured: Banana-rexia and a better soundtrack (7/2011) Just keep runnin'...

rantrantrant...

Did you guys know that I work out? Little known fact. Try and eat light and healthy. Run. Karate. Lift weights. Take frequent cat-naps. All that shit. I'm also fairly well-read on those aforementioned subjects. Not surprisingly, I can confidently speak to the fact that I have a good frame of reference if one were to broach the topic of, ohhhhh, fad diets.

Now before you click away to TMZ or whatever, hear me out: I've frassed to you about supplements, stupid fitness rags and their tendency to regurgitate the same kind of article every other month wedged in with the newest trendy fitness routines. (Yoga! Pilates! Kickboxing! Tae-Bo! Tae 90X! Pil-boxing! Yoga Jumproping!) I'll frass about books I've read and either glommed some sort of benefit about or books that I don't think have a metric shit ton of merit.

Go on. Google search "stretching before running?" The links go on like a high school debate. ("Yes you should!" "No you shouldn't!" "You'll live!" "YOU'LL DIE!!!" For the record? And for fact? I don't think that stretching out before any exercise is a bad idea. At all. ) In fact, most diet advice that doesn't come from a professional tends to lean toward the stupid, contrary, muddled, and passionate- for all the wrong reasons. Best person to talk to about your health and fitness? A doctor. Unquestionably.

Recently a friend of mine visited a place where the newest fad diet program is offered (which is to say it's a new South Beach/Atkins knock-off) which tries to emulate our hunter gatherer meals from Captain Caveman-y times. I read over the haves and have nots and did some quick research...and while I "get" it and wanted to sound supportive? My Spider-Sense was still tingling. Basically you eat nothing BUT meat. No pasta. No Refined sugar. One "cheat" day...(I hate that term, btw. I've said it before, yeah. And I've used it as an excuse to eat like shit. I still hate it) And no fucking legumes? Hoooookay. I can see how this'd appeal to people looking for something to, you know, work. Somehow.

Now lest you think I'm ass-talking, I've seen people who have experienced success with Atkins et.al. The were admittedly overweight, and by kiboshing the carbs and (wait for it...) moderating their remaining portions they were able to get their bodies to go catabolic and burn off the solid fuel they'd been carrying. (Although, friends, before you attack that steak-a-week diet in earnest, keep in mind these friends experienced a marked decrease in energy. And after seeing a doctor for a mid-Atkins check up? A marked increase in cholesterol) And so whatever, what's my point? 70 years ago cigarettes were supposed to aid digestion and "relax the throat". What's the big deal with this one?

Well...

This friend tells me that the initial consultation/2 hour introductory meeting included a couple of wires being attached to them and getting a body comp analysis. Fine. Understanding that next to water immersion I think that the electric jolt is a fairly accurate method to get your body fat percentage. Except THIS test also gave a laundry list of horse shit. Something about their cell/electrolyte catalyst being pretty bad yadda yadda and being a good candidate for the program. Right. Next we'll try this phrenology machine that strongly resembles a collander pot to ascertain your aura balance.

One of the other "rules" of this "diet" was no running. This made me want my friend to question them on the idea that human beings evolved to be runners, or if they'd ever heard of the concept of "persistance running" which anthropologists have speculated might have been how our hunting-gathering ancestors tracked down faster prey? (To be fair, according to their program periodic 10 minute sprints were okay. I started to honestly wonder if this practically non-existent fitness routine that was meant to compliment the diet was designed by a 4th grader during track and field day. Next up! Monkey bars and vigorously run backwards up the slide until the teacher aides give you a time-out!) Looking around the room, my buddy said they saw other people who were at that two-hour informational meeting that had the look of those who want this diet to work for them. An excitable prospect if you find it difficult to balance out that delicate teeter-totter of diet and exercise. And easy...excitable...prospect. Nothing but meat.

This all ended in their sending a politely worded email a day later declining the program and the eventual response from the meat-counselor strongly advising they reconsider as their findings after that initial electro-shock were startling bad for someone as young as they were. In other words, they tried a fucking fear-tactic to keep them on. And that is what really chaps my hide the most.

Going back 15 odd years, I had a friend whose mom sold high-end supplements. They had an entire kitchen cabinet filled to bursting with these pricey bastards, and I learned later that if they didn't make their sales quota- they had to buy their own product. This, is what my father reffered to as a "pyramid scheme". And although I felt it polite not to mention that lil' nugget to my friend, she railed on me for not taking more supplements. I explained that I sometimes did take supplements, recommended after I met with the dietician at the "Y" who also turned me on to the idea that: "if you have a well rounded diet and balanced, you should be getting all of the vitamins you need". And then they recommended a book. My old friend responded to this with "Well? How do you KNOW you're getting them? You DON'T!"

Point taken. In the meantime, enjoy your rich and dark urine and overworked kidney's.

Again...

I don't think a good health and wellness program entails a drill sergeant ala' "The Biggest Loser". And I don't think that the fad diets/routines are strictly speaking helping their cause by trying to rule through fear. A good coach/trainer/training partner/running partner whatever will encourage you and push you to do better. Do more reps. Go heavier. Be a spotter. Encourage you run another mile and not walk. Point out areas where you're dropping your guard hand or opening your mouth before you go to kick. (I did that. FYI.)

Barring that, they'll drop their drawers and moon you if they start running ahead of you. (That's my boy, Davey.)

Look...I say to you all how much I love my Veeb's and minimalist kicks and how they've helped my running. Great. For me. Sorry. That's my selfish Sally Self. What I'm not going to say is that you're stupid for not wearing them. Or that you're guaranteeing yourself injury if you don't wear them. Or if you eat a meat-heavy diet you'll DIE*! I honestly believe that you build up a resistance in your audience if you lay down some finite be-all end-all rule that must be adhered to. How arrogant must you be to have such absolute conviction in your product? Redick. I was tempted to say to my friend "Do the paleo-program, but see your personal physician for a physical first. Blood draws. Pee test. The works. And after the 60 days, go back and see how you fare." (Meanwhile, the mean part of me will be enrolling in another marathon and enjoying my Little Caesar Hot N Ready pizza when they come over. I am nothing if not cruel.)

Stupid diet....

BOOM! Done...

Pictured: Ebullient Insanity. All smiles in the early miles.

Right. I think I'm gonna make people gag with a step-by-step recitive on the race. So I'll say this: I'm very glad I did it. I'm glad I was with my buddies early on. I'm glad my friends came out to cheer and D-Gangs was "on point", getting a ton of terrific photos/video. I'm glad Moda's folks were there to take some of the best race photo's I've seen of Team Awesome. I'm proud of the half-Mary "virgins" who ran their first. (And smoked the s#it out of the course. WHERE'S THE FIRE!?!) And I'm reeeeeeally proud of my new race shorts. They're very short.

Pictured: Crossing the finish. Everyone is looking away. Why? Because of what you don't see that's been cropped for decency purposes. Not pictured? Decency...and dignity.

FeeJ PR'd, Moda has a new itch to (someday) be a pacer in a more "official" capacity, and I managed to shave 11 seconds off of my own PR. (And wondering if I can run a sub-2:00 at the Monster Dash.) Which is weird, since I was going in to this thing suuuuper chill. It was just a joyful morning to be goofy and chatty and see what the body could do. I mean, it's weird...I was trying to drift off for a post-race snooze and my mind kept at it- "Was my pace off?" "Could I have turned it up earlier?" "I could do a Full-Mary". It's madness. Or the shorts. Probably the shorts.

Anyway, the worst part is that we're all hurting a bit after this one. Moda is still "technically" recuperating from G-Ma's two weeks ago. Both FeeJ and I are nursing a janky foot. And (on a strange note) I've had the s#ittiest sleep patterns. (I was dog-tired when I got home, and couldn't go back to sleep to save my life. And after a late night firework show, I tossed and turned aGAIN!)

So yeah. We'll be taking a few days off. Not too many, though. I'm really hoping to get back out for long runs with my buddies.

And we're running...again...

(pictured: Symbol of DC Superhero "The Flash". I've toyed with the idea of getting a bright red race outfit for visibility purposes and affixing this patch to the chest...then kiboshed it because I'm not very fast and...well he's just not my favorite superhero)

BOOM! Double Blaug!

Moda, Feej, and I will be running the Red, White, and Boom on 7/4. Because we're weird. And running a half-Mary on our day off seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. (You know? I dragged my feet on some weird tangent about how "it's right outside my back door" and "well why wouldn't I run a neighborhood race?" yadda yadda...it's just not happening. There's no real benign reason to be dragging our asses to the starting line at 6am. Oh wait...yes there is...) I had this funny scenario in my head where I'd drag my feet on running, then agree to crew FeeJ and Moda, then show up on race day taking off my hoodie to reveal MY RACE NUMBER!!!

Unfortunately, my evasiveness was viewed as more annoying than anything. That and they sniffed me out when the race numbers were made available online. So much for surprises, no matter how weak I make them.

Hey...anyone remember last year? When Moda was educating me about "Race Karma" and we volunteered for the R/W/B b/c it was so close to us? We ran the Lake Harriet 10K on July 3rd then went over to help unload the cup and water trucks for the beverage station? Man. That was a HOT day. And the very next day when we got up to go to our water station where we had volunteered behind the Quarry? And, and, and what did it do? Yeeeeeah.

P#ssing rain. At 7am. On 7/4. We stood there soggy in our makeshift garbage bag ponchos. And when the rain did clear? And the early a.m. heat showed up? Ssssssssteamy business, kids. Anyway, my point of this whiney tirade is that because every race I've done so far this year climatologically speaking has been an exact replica of 2010? I'm visualizing soggy bottoms for at least half of the run.

Which is to say that the weather's no big deal. What is a big deal is working through injury. And f#ck all it's getting in my brain and psyching me out. Last weekend I did an exploratory run of the course just to get more-or-less familiar with the terrain. We've all trod the area, and the Deming Heights hill (the "Hard" hill on the race) has been part of my training now for a few months- I've even gone so far as to mentally say "Hi" to it when I approach, hoping the Earth Gods ease the incline and carry me up the hill. Shut it. The rest of the weekend I did lawn work in my heavy leather "outdoor shoes", then woke up on Sunday with a foot that felt like it was caught in a bear trap. Nigh on unwalkable. Gimpy limp.

And I got worried. Here's the big drawback to minimalist shoes, frassers: As soon as you switch back to heavy soled shoes, you run the risk of injury. And since I've bitched about this before (so it shouldn't have been a big surprise)...I was hoping that it wouldn't be right before my next f#cking race. My last run a few days ago in my Free's (which I'm racing in) was a 6 mile exercise in pain. I switched to two "shorty" runs in my Veeb's which both felt better. (I won't even lie when I say I was considering racing the half-Mary in them. I just haven't put up the distance)

So after the improvement I've been experiencing this year, I'm feeling a little "back to square one"-ish. I've been re-reading "Born To Run" (Which you should all. read. Inspirational, Exciting, and Informative. Something for runners and non-runners alike. Truth) to keep me inspired and focused. But I'm approaching this race with more trepidation than I did the Mpls Half-Mary. And it's mostly pissing me off. Frass. I wasn't even hoping to PR this one. Just run a fun long-weekend race with buddies.

Frass N' Grumble.

Annnnnyway, as I polish of this glass of whine I'd like to (again) encourage you 4 readers to drag your butts out to NE Mipples this coming Monday to cheer the race if you can. I know that many of you don't get done puking until noon, but your support is nevertheless welcome and appreciated down to the soles of our feet.

Happy Fourth o' July, friends!

Grandma's Recap

(Pictured- Ebullience at mile #5)



Well...it's been over a week and she's ambulatory and running again, so I hope you'll forgive this race recap for being a little late. Yes, she finished the world famous G-Ma's Marathon and lived to tell the tale. FeeJ and I (with the eventual additions of Cap'n Dawn, Melbus, and Cap't Dottie) crewed like fiends with FeeJ doing a lion's share by hauling me around and snapping some tremendous photo's. (As seen above and below. She has a good eye, that one.)



Without getting into too much detail (and with my already terrible penchant for rambling-moreover rambling about running), I think I'd like to tell my 4 readers: Go and watch a marathon. Moreover, leapfrog mileage stops from as close to the start of the race all the way to mile 25. I'm not saying it'll replace your favorite professional sports team, but (for me) the experience- watching almost an entire marathon from start to finish? Was almost transformative.

We made it to our Kampsite Friday afternoon, had a nice dinner at the local restaurant down the street from the Kampgrounds, and turned in early...only to be roused by pissing rain coming down on the rooftop and an anxious-to-make the bus Moda. At 4am. I was still without my faculties at this point. After making it in to Duluth, FeeJ and I killed time at a Perkins with our darkly comical server- although when we started to head out to our first post (mile 5) we were nearly trapped in the parking lot since we neglected to notice that we were on the course and the first half-Mary finishers were heading on home. (Course record, btw- 1:02 half marathon. Jesus.)


We started getting our text updates from the G-Ma's website (Technology is neat!), in addition to our neighborly NE crew of A+D+Crash who were leapfrogging with us as well. FeeJ took to a light pole for a better view ala' "Singin' In the Rain" and after about 20 minutes, the wheelers started in:



And then the "Elite" runners. (Please notice the "mid-strike" footfall. Also? You could have balanced trays on their heads. Almost no bouncing. There were some good one's of the female elites but- get this- they were too fast)

Working with the Ginger's, (and grateful the rain dissipated) we made our way to mile 12 to park and watch. The racers, for the most part, were still ebullient but you could see the fatigue on their faces. By this point, we started recognizing racers from earlier and were able to better identify pace groups. (Although finding Moda...I mean if she hadn't sought us out I'd have missed her entirely) One of my favorite parts was checking out the different race costumes*, identifying footwear (several Veeb sightings) and just...clapping for everybody. Because everyone deserved a clap. Everyone.

*My favorite race t-shirt slogans included: "I shaved my balls for this?!?", "Running Sucks", and lastly "Running is GOOD for you...and your fat ass". Other race garb spanned the gamut from homemade hand-lettered "Marathon Virgin!" to silkscreened commemorative t-shirts with the picture of a deceased loved one. And then there were the "costumes"...tu-tu's, a guy dressed up like a rubber duck, a guy we nicknamed "running Jesus", and...and this guy. I'll be honest...I didn't like him too much:

(Later that night, Moda said the dude had an obnoxious habit of running off the course to have a pee in the woods before returning)

FeeJ and I then started to head back to Downtown Duluth to meet up with the rest of our crew/crew-dog and it was while stuck in traffic I received the worrisome text from 'Lis that said "Mile 16 and she's hurting". Great. And our next planned station wasn't until mile 25 or so. We eventually met with the Cap'n D et.al and made the walk from around mile 23 through downtown proper. While proudly wearing our Mo-Mer hankies, we were able to view first hand the last few miles...and the effects it had on the racers. (This, to me, was the most fascinating)

Gone were the smiles and ebullience. At this point you could tell that people were digging deep, or at least praying that the end was near. They were walking. There were people barefoot. (My favorite? The guy that smacked the mile marker with his shoes. Second only to the dude who looked like he was sooooo close to tossing his cookies) There were...bloody nipples. (WHY WEAR WHITE!?!? WHY?!?!?!?!)

But we kept cheering. We kept screaming. And the crowds...they kept following (We also noticed folks who'd been stationed and apparently leap-frogging like we did) In fact, the outpouring of support was infectious and effusive. And even though I was freezing balls (44 degrees? In June? Really?) I kept clapping and screaming until my hands went numb.

(Pictured- The truth)

And yet here I was, still worried about the Mo. We finally made it to a spot by the DECC center around mile 26 or so and waited. I finally got the text that she crossed mile 25 and we continued to clap and yell for the runners- many of whom looked like they made the worst decision in their lives. And then one woman...one woman re-affirmed that when she came "air-pulling" toward the group of us...and the families and children that surrounded us. And that affirmation came out in a primal and lusty cry!!!

(Pictured: Primal Lust. And Lactic acid. And blisters)

"THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING THING EVER!!!"

Well...with that hearty endorsement in mind, let me hustle on out and sign up for one! We milled over to the finish area and waited until we heard her name announced. (At this point, I received a flurry of text messages from the Bean, who was watching the live video stream from home, asking if he was seeing her correctly)

And man...you have never seen a flurry of emotion pass across somebodies face as much as a marathon finisher. The laughing melts into intense sobbing, back to amazement, to pain, to laughing and all smiles.

Like this:

While she limped off to pick up her gear ("This is bullshit. WHY are they making the race finishers walk another block to get their crap?!?!) I took a few minutes to soak it all in. And it wasn't pretty. In fact, it was almost like a trauma center. A little harrowing too, since they don't let you walk in with the finishers to get their stuff. We waited a tick longer until she came out (more smiles, more tears, more worry that she lost a toenail...which was only a pretty agitated blister) We walk/carried her a few blocks away until we were picked up by Dawn and Melbus and headed to grab some food at a restaurant that wasn't bursting with racers before heading back to the campsite proper for a well deserved party. (Or in Moda's case, limping to bed and passing out at 8:45.)

So I've volunteered at a water stop. I've hung out next to race/course marshall's at full-marathons. And this'll be technically the 2nd time I've crewed for Mo during a run. But I'm stone-cold serious when I tell you that you should think about attending a marathon and following the course of the run from stem to stern. It's a powerful thing to see people-from the "Elite" runners all the way to 1st timers who just want to finish (the last place finisher came in just over 7 hours.) and how they evolve/devolve as the joy and energy is slowly replaced, mile by mile, with gritted teeth. Pain. Focus. Resolve. Just to say you ran 26.2 miles. I guarantee...the racers will appreciate it from the bottom of their medallioned hearts.

Race day Re-Cap

Pictured- The author's well worn Lunar-Fly's. After hundred's of miles of minimalist training I think it's safe to retire them to a nice senior community in Florida.

Whew. I'd love to bend your ear with a mile-for-mile play-by-play but I'm still pretty tired and living off of the residual memory of how it went yesterday- In addition to the outpouring of support of Moda, D-Gangs, D+A and Crash, as well as surprise sightings/appearances of Balcolm-In-The-Middle, Matthus, and bless her heart...the original sporting cheerleader, Mom.



In brief-

After setting out my gear and a fitful night's sleep, I was up and biking to the Depot around 5:30 am after a breakfast of 1 gallon of water and two cups of java. We met, stretched a little, frassed, and eventually meandered over to the start. I was introduced to FeeJ's buddy Ryan and we milled about on the street waiting for a Port-a-John and getting anxious listening to the announcer do the pre-start countdown...which seemed closer than would allow us to actually get a chance to get to pee.

Moda miraculously found us in the throngs, we waited and waited until the buzzer announced the start and waited some more. (A fellow runner told me not to worry. As soon as the buzzer yelped the lines would dissipate to free us up to pee. And they did. And thank you, miss.)

FeeJ and her Garmin were great for mellowing me out from the get-go (my instinct being to catch up with the crowd...and to stop dancing to N-Sync's "Bye-Bye-Bye") and keeping a steady pace for the first few miles. My only running goals (while, you know, actually "running" ) were not to get too ahead of myself speed-wise, and to hopefully "open'er up" around mile 10 if I was feeling good. We had some Coach-Moda and D-Gang sightings on the first few miles with Moda playing Drill Sergeant during my more juvenile race-moments of air-drumming during "Stone-in-Love" ("IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO AIR-GUITAR, YOU SHOULD BE RUNNING FASTER!")

Duly noted.

After doubling back across the Stone-Arch (and memory of how last year I was starting to "feel" it.) we hit the hills (soundtrack-"Run, Run Away"). I kept up with double-fisting the water and Powerade, making sure to knock back the "Ade" FIRST then warsh it down with water. I skipped the GU and kept the beat with my mix and tried to just keep moving forward. Short steps. Upright posture. By mile 8 or 9 (I think) I was feeling fine on the uphills and doing my best to power-down the downs then level-off. I had enough in my tank. And I actually felt okay.

FeeJ and I parted ways a little bit before the turnaround back to the "G", and while I had hoped to keep with my plan of putting on speed for the last 3 miles I had mis-read the mile marker and slowed down thinking there were really 5 miles left (whoops) when it was more like 2.5. And then when I was increasing my speed on a particular downhill, I was weaving between runners when I caught a pothole which twisted my ankle in and I had to do the quick 10 second assessment (Is it broken? Can I put weight on it?) My back was frassy, but I figured at least my engines were moving me forward. And holy crap did it scare me.

My coaches had been hollering encouragement from the sides of the roads for the last few, but I'd be lying if I said I was actually listening. Outside of confirming with Moda there was only a mile or so left, I plugged back in ("Roll with the Changes") and figured I should power on through to the end. My breathing was still okay and there wasn't any gorge coming back up under the bridge heading toward the finish so when I saw the balloons and crap I figured I should just see how fast I could go, consistently, to finish.

And no shit, I finished in 2:08. Nearly 30 minutes off of my time from last year. I didn't even have tunnel vision. For her part, as proud as she was and proud as I was that she came out to cheer? Mother did not hug her sweaty second-born. For my part, I kept it together long enough to run (ha!) back to the finish-line and cheer on my friend FeeJ. Good job, love. Tremendous job for someone who hadn't ran a mile one year ago.

And now, Moda is already telling me I should try shaving off time to get sub-2 with my next run. I haven't decided if the Red, White, and Boom will be the next race (It's tropically prohibitive in MN in July.) but maybe, just maybe I'll try it for the Monster Dash?

God knows I'm wearing my hypocrisy quite well. ("This is the first and LAST half I'm doing! Time to cross THIS off the Bucket List...LOL!" Mikey, circa 2010)

But maybe I can do that. Moda, Gangs, et.al have made me think about things while running that I've been able to practically apply to both my training and race day: Use what's in the tank and leave it on the course, and push yourself. I think it was my rationale that I'd try and run the last 5K at a faster tempo that I figured that maybe I wasn't pushing my self as hard as I could. I could have just plodded out the half and finished this year. And been done. Hey. Another medal and wicker shirt. But who was stopping me. I wasn't injured. I was (thankfully) not broken from that pot-hole. The only thing keeping me from getting up those hills would have been me. And I was all like..."Fuck those hills." No really. In my brain, I couldn't respond to my friends because I was making wine under my feet. With the hills. Wine-Hill-Fucking. Whatever makes your PR, right? Shut it.

And thanks for humoring me these last few weeks. I can't promise that it'll end with this race. Shoot...I can't even post a gardening blog until the whirli-gigs stop falling. And I hope that maybe you'll see that any/everyone can start this insanity.


Race Day Raiment. Not only was I color coordinated like a Chaplin movie, but Under-Armour was my unofficial race day sponsor....down to the wrist-bands. Note "hankerchief head-band of power".

Pre-race happiness. At the Depot, and before the pain, 6/5/11



Motivational phrases at the starting line.

The line of runners, along W. River Parkway on race day- 6/5/11


Finishing line. I won't lie...last year they had a marching band playing. And I really, REALLY wanted the marching band back.


There were 3-4 things I wanted for this race. Remember? Strong finish, Do not stop to walk, disregard the PR and run my own race. Oh, and be standing and smiling at the end. The Guiness...well that was another charitable act on behalf of some spectators. Thank you for the carbs and kindness.

Mama called them my MAGIC shoes...(Race day)

Pictured: "Team Awesome"- Moda, Cap'n Dawn, Matthus, and some dude wearing a chopped up Spider-Man T-shirt in the interest of standing out and looking cool. Also note the MP3 player, slowly on it's way to working loose and being held for the remainder of the run. (ps- This was about mile 2 or so. So we're still pretty fresh and smiley) From the Mpls Half-Marathon 2010.


Well coming up on another half-Mary this Sunday and I've been getting more and more excited. Moda, Feej, and I will be carbing up on Friday. Packet Pick-Up will be on Saturday. And I'll be up and biking to the starting line bright and stupidly early on Sunday. Hooray!

My propensity for waxing nostalgic notwithstanding, I gotta say that it feels (this time around anyway) pretty chill going in. What I mean is, last year around this time I was a little nervous and not what you'd call the "Acme of Anticipation". Kind of the opposite, actually. And what happened? It wasn't what you'd call "calamitous"...(Oh...was it another bullet list you wanted?) Well, to recap before the race...

-I had only been "Training" training for a little over 2 months, with my longest run up until that point having been an 8-9 mile trail trot that I half-walked.

-The longest race I'd completed was the GIG 10K.

-Papa wanted himself a GOOD night sleep, so on top of the pre-race carbing and beers he made sure to put back a few V and T's.

-Papa ate himself a nice big breakfast and over a gallon of water. Then shotgunned another beer for some extra carbs.

-And we biked in the chilly morning over to the Depot SUPER early. Papa stretched and bitched and frassed and finally made two potty stops before the race began.

As for the race itself? Well the 1st four miles or so were okay. A+D were there to cheer. At mile 3 I was all flexing my arms for the friends I saw and just trying to keep pace with my group. By mile 5 Moda had powered on. By mile 6 I thought "This is nearly a 10K distance. I feel like I'm going soooo far". Also, this is where some of the half-marathoners were already powering back) By mile 7-8 I had already started (mostly) walking and having trouble taking deep breaths. By mile 12-13 I was hallucinating that non-existent friends were cheering me on and regretting the GU packet I swiped at the last water stop. (My bottle you see in the picture above? Bone dry)

I nearly crawled over the finish line. (I was happy I didn't puke.) I could barely stand and found myself quietly resentful that we had decided to bike there in the first place. The only things that made it worthwhile (besides sitting down) was the applause from some people who saw us at the Bulldog afterwards and recognized that we had just ran the race...and the dumb heavy-ass medal. (BTW- I finished in a little over 2:40, I think) And while they weren't bleeding...it certainly felt like someone had given me a titty twister. Ouch.

So why've I flipped? I don't know. I had an analogy in mind regarding people who jump out of an airplane for the first time and are scared but who then love subsequent jumps. So it's kiiind of like that? There's the prep. We've put up some heavy miles over the last year or so. I've logged quite a few more 12+ milers outside now and have actually ran them versus stopping to puke/walk. I've felt better on hills. We've run parts of the course again during training. I've been rocking the minimalist shoes and Vibrams. I've got some very good friends running it (for the first time. We'll have many high-fives to trade, Feej) And as opposed to last year with the dreaded fatalist mindset of "I just want to finish" I have a few new ones I've adopted for this year:

"I want to run the whole course and not walk"
"I'm not trippin' about my PR, but will be happy to finish sub-2:25 or 2:20" (I have a matinee, you see)
"I want to finish strong"
"I'm running my own race for me"

Pretty straight forward. I'm really digging on the Half-Mary's. I read an article in RW that they've been picking up momentum as the "challenging race of choice" for people who are on the fence about running a marathon or just want to get their toes wet in the running world. And who knows, maybe I'll eventually nut-up and try a full-Mary. (Gods know I'm proud/excited/worried for and about Moda doing Gramma's Mary the following weekend) It's just nice to know I have the option. Nicer still to know that in my head, I'd like to keep doing long-runs on the weekend with buddies around the nabe, around the lakes...just in case there's a half-Mary lurking around this summer we wanna jump into. Ha-HA!

So I'm hoping (fingers-crossed...barring an accident or injury) that the following picture you see below? The one I'll ask to take post-race this year? That'll be me, except standing up and smiling. Not squatting and grimacing in pain.



ps- I lied. There was a 3rd thing that made the run worthwhile and I would be remiss to forget to mention it: The people who come out to cheer. Last year I might've veered off course or knocked someone out of a wheelchair so I didn't have to run anymore if it wasn't for the people cheering us on and holding signs. Race fans improve the morale of the runners (IMO) exorbitantly, and I'd go so far as to say we really depend on that energy when we're digging deep. So if you're downtown this Sunday in the early a.m. Bring a chair, cop a squat, and clap yer hands. You'll have thousands of people grateful that you did.

Weight, Weight...don't tell me...

Or, "Confessions of a banana-rexic"...Full disclaimer friends- This week, the old blog is going to be almost solely dedicated to running shit. The Mpls. Half-Marathon is coming up in less than a week and it's got me mooooore than excited. Also, this will probably be yet another devisive posts. As always, consult a doctor or dietician before engaging in any drastic changes in your diet or you could DIE! Remember, this worked for me- not you. Annnnnnd speaking of dieticians...)

So on the bulletin board at the gym, they have apparently hired themselves a dietician. She's pretty. Fit. Blonde. Sunkissed (all of this I surmised by her photo.) She has the appropriate pedigree (Master's in Biology, Foodology, Physiology or what have you.) She even included below her biography/introduction page her favorite recipe for "healthy" waffles... and smoothies.

And I. Don't. Trust her.

I mean, is it just me or would you trust Pamela Anderson to tell you what to eat, or Baron Vladimir Harkonnen?
Pictured: A guy that knows his sandwiches. Incidentally, this was found on a website titled "Fat Bad Guys". Thought I'd share.

I'm kidding, of course. I think that dieticians and personal trainers both are integral to adopting a safe and healthy lifestyle impetus. I've just never had much use for either, you know? I mean, frassing to friends and family about how I already know I eat healthy, I substitute whatever for whatever is fat free...I don't know. I guess I figured I already knew how to eat healthy. What I didn't figure is that I was such a damn poser about it.

Look. I don't mean to brag, but I've lost some weight. It's true. The other day before I engaged in a big lawn project I started looking for a pair of my grubby jeans. I ended up grabbing some from the musty pile of discards in the basement...only realizing that they weren't my torn up grubbies from the thrift store but my old "good" Gap jeans.

That I haven't been able to wear since before the cruise in 2008


Pictured- 34 X 30's being held up by a belt. And before you roll your eyes and tell me I'm flexing, you up and use an edger tiller for 4 hours and try mulching up a 4x3 section of new garden and see if you aren't exhaus...and I've been working pretty gawdamn hard at the gym...you know what? Forget it. Just...hey, 34 x 30's btw.

And just today, I weighed myself on the Devil-scale at the gym. As much as I hated it for showing a weight that was closer to 200 lbs 3-4 months ago I'm hoping that it isn't pulling my leg this time by saying that my weight was below 180.

For the first time. In over 3 years.

So here is the part where (if you've actually been following along, per normal) I reveal my huge free fitness secret. You can attribute it to running shitty long-distances over the last 3 months or so. Cutting out hard liquor last Fall. Whatever. I think it's mostly getting to the point in my training where I've figured out how to re-direct my terrible relationship with portion sizes and how certain foods affect me physically on a daily basis... and also from the standpoint of what fuel is most useful in helping me train effectively. And it turns out, I realized that I had a lot of what NASA refers to as "Solid Fuel" to use. In part...

1) The banana-rexic thing is a joke Moda and I came up with after I'd been so busy w/work et.al that I showed up for dinner starving because "All I had to eat today was a banana". (Truth) The reality is that I've figured out that I was (again) eating for the sake of eating at proscribed times, caving in to my snacky mentality, over-eating with the mindset that I was "in training", and binge-eating when my budget or time would allow. (Again, justifying a trip to Holy Land or Great Dragon buffet was a good idea to help eat more protein. Riiiight)

So I just stopped doing that. I started by drinking a lot more water and flavored sugar-free soda water in the morning and would just...put off having my breakfast yogurt and banana until closer to 10 am or so. I felt hungry by the time I needed to eat them, and it was close enough to lunch that it didn't make sense to me to snack or eat anything else before noon.

Annnnnnd I kind of went vegetarian. Kind of. Actually, mostly. (editors note: I'll probably bend your ear on another blog regarding how I've changed on this standpoint on this over the last 15 years or so. It's definitely fuel for another story.) Outside of being a good way to get your nutrients and roughage, I found that eating a whole box (sorry Moda) of Morningstar (insert the following: Mini-corn dogs, Buffalo Nugs, Ribs, Spicy Black Bean Burger) was a good way to get my lunch fix out of the way and not feel hungry until dinner. During tech, I'd have some soup and a large piece of crusty bread before hitting the in-house gym and if I was SO hungry I couldn't take it? I'd grab a Clif bar from S.A. and another liter of water. At night, I'd get home tired so I wasn't eating a big meal before bed. Then I'd repeat the routine during the work week.

On weekends I'd cheat, sure. It felt (sort of) uncomfortable eating a big breakfast and I found that I wasn't able to finish the big meals that I used to polish off in a sitting. And I usually wound up full enough to go the rest of the day doing chores/training/projects until dinner. Eater's remorse usually wasn't a factor because I'd try to go into the meal knowing if I demolished half a pizza, I'd wind up feeling like shit.

The biggest piece of my own advice that (I guess) I'd give away is this- It's important to stay hungry mentally and physically. To work on really, really getting the most enjoyment out of meals by holding off on eating them, and not eating it all of it in a sitting. And the trick, the hard part? Is disciplining yourself enough not to give in and gorge when the meal comes around.

2) That whole "solid fuel" joke and part about going vegetarian? Really wasn't all that jokey. Okay, so it's known in running circles that the idea of "carbing up" isn't all that smart to do the day right BEFORE the race. (Giving your body the time to break it down into usable glucose stores for extended running after having eaten a mere 8 hours before race day? Right. It doesn't make much sense. Two days? Gives you enough time to break it down.)

My pre-long race foods the night before are usually roughage heavy or (my favorite)= Sushi. Get a little Omega 3 in there, some rice, and I'm good to go the next morning without feeling too stuffed or acid reflux-y. And post-race? The idea of grease/beer/etc. is almost as nauseating to me as smelling bad milk. (I just...ugh. I want something simple. My tummy just gets messed UP post-distance runs.)

As for the solid fuel line, it's because of a comment that D-Gangs made a few months ago. The way I see it, I had a lot of fuel (extra adipose) wrapped around my waist. A lot. Male-Muffin Top, whatever. So whenever I was on a regular training run and after having a limited calorie daily diet I'd make it so that I was visualizing using "What I Had in the Tank". (And it's GOOD fuel. The chubs-sorry- are a rich source of energy to push you through.)

I didn't do this stupidly, mind you. I knew the 2 days before long runs I needed to carb up and I didn't place myself in the realm of ridiculous by starving myself. (Useless ideology if you ask me. Food tastes too good, and having no energy to run/lift makes the concept of getting stronger/improving PR's invalid.) But yeah. On my 3-6 miles early jaunts I eschewed having toast or a waffle and bread-y things for a banana and loading up on some water. Easy enough. And my energy has been fine.

And I'm down quite a few l.b.esses.

So that's the big secret. Hollywood stars and models need to work out a shit ton and starve themselves. It's true, and it's true. And if you think to the contrary, you're very very wrong. Starve. Themselves. And I'm vain, but not that vain to wanna look like I've been in a slave camp. But I am admittedly vain enough to use the fuel I had on me to push me through the training and feel good physically and in terms of self-image.

Bottom line- eat less. Do more cardio. It's the same formula that's been around for ages.