Ahoy, Ye Scurvy Dogs!

Meet my uncle, Captain Horatio Sinbad. Yes, my uncle is a pirate in every sense of the word. He may not be doing quite as much pillaging and plundering as he did once but I can assure you that this salty dog is the real deal.

In 2002 the good Captain won the America's Sail Class "B" race and was awarded a mighty trophy, 4 years of bragging rights and the honor of picking the location of the 2006 race - naturally he chose his home port of Beaufort, North Carolina.

Sinbad's ship, The Meka II, is a half-scale replica of a 17th century pirate brigantine which, fittingly, he built himself. She's 54' long, has a displacement of about 18 tons and has 6 live, black powder cannons on board (when I say he's the real deal, I mean it)!

Right now you may be thinking "So, did he win the America's Sail by sinking the competition?" I would love to answer that question but I am not at liberty to do so... I'd rather not walk the plank.

Pepsi is the primary sponsor of the 2006 America's Sail and, I am told, has life size stand-ups of Captain Sinbad all over the area. Moreover, Pepsi is putting the Meka II on 8 million cans of Pepsi (article here).

To get to the point, I will be going on vacation next week to attend the 2006 Americas Sail as an honorary crew member of the Meka II - sword, scabbard and eye patch are already packed (and maybe, just maybe, some rum, and booty too).

Needless to say I am pretty excited about the trip. My parents, my brother and his wife, my cousin (a Chicago Hash House Harrier) and Salena and I have rented a house on the beach and are all primed for a good time.

To be sure, there will be plenty of booze and food but I am also looking forward to running on the beach and exploring a new area on foot. I am also looking for a road race, of any distance, in or near Beaufort/Morehead City, NC between June 28th and July 4th. If you know of anything please let me know.

In honor of the occasion I am taking a pirate name. My brother, The Ubster, found this site which is very helpful in determining your pirate moniker.

Henceforth (or at least the next couple weeks) you may call me Bloody John Vane.

And who be you??? Arrr!!!

What a hack!

Hack, cough, hack, spit, sneeze, wheeze... repeat.

Such has been my life for the past week or so. It all started last weekend down at the big Family Reunion in West Virginia with a magnificent allergy attack of epic proportions. Let me just say it's awkward spending time with the in-laws when every third sentence is interrupted by a major sneeze epidemic.

"Uncle Joe! Great to see you! How are you doing?"

"Great Josh! Glad you could make it down again this year! How's your running coming along?"

"Pretty good Uncle Joe... I am about to start training for the New York Mara.... New York Mara.... AAAHHHHCCCOOO! AAACCCHHHHOOO!! AAACCCHHHHOOO!!! AAACCCHHHHOOO!!!! AAACCCHHHHOOO!!!!!"

(pregnant pause)

"Excuse me Uncle Joe. I need to find a tissue, someplace to wash my hands and a drink to replace the fluids that I am loosing through my nose. I'll catch up with you later."

Absolutely miserable, but pretty funny too. Ah life...

On returning to New York the allergies promptly turned into a nasty head cold, complete with the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever and sinus pressure that God put NyQuil on this planet for. With the exception of one nice 9 miler on Tuesday I didn't get much running in this week. I had hoped to get in a couple of runs this weekend and I shall. It will just be a little more challenging because I am shooting a short film this weekend and will probably have a couple of long days ahead of me.

The good news is that I am feeling much better and my voice has that sexy, deep and raspy quality that most late night DJ's would kill for.

Note to self: rerecord the greeting on the answering machine and cell phone voicemail.

Jump Rope King Robbed of Crown

Greetings from Morgantown, West Virginia! Yes, this New York city boy has found his way south of the Mason-Dixon line but I've not forgotten my running shoes. More on that later.

I'm in Morgantown, WV for my wife's family reunion - a splendid affair complete with deviled eggs, potato salad, hot dogs and cheap beer followed by fierce competition in activities such as hula-hooping, free throw shooting, water ballon tossing and the ever popular and hotly contested jump rope competion. The latter of which I was robbed of a championship title by my sister-in-law. I think I shall appeal to the judges on the grounds that my one-legged 180 turn should have earned "double style points" and that I should have earned additional points for even attempting the airborne toe touch. Surely that move has a higher level of difficulty worthy of bonus points! Regardless, I am lobbying the appropriate family members to add an 800 meter foot race for next year. I shall crush the competition!

Morgantown is also home to West Virginia University, a school I did not attend and know really very little about. I do however happen to be lodging right next to the WVU Track and have been taking advantage of that fact. The track is VERY hard, basically a 400 meter concrete oval painted blue. Since the Womens Track Team has produced 2 Olympians, 3 NCAA National Champions and 18 All Americans I suppose blue is a good color for a track...

Alas, I must sign off and attend another family gathering! I'll see you back in New York.

Go Mountaineers!

Dean Karnazes Is My Hero

I recently finished reading "Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All Night Runner" and have to admit to being blown away. Dean Karnazes is absolutely amazing!

Don’t get me wrong, Karnazes is no Steinbeck and "Ultramarathon Man" is certainly not the great American novel. It is however thoroughly entertaining, utterly inspiring and has even nudged me to eat a little more healthily from time to time.

This is not just a book for runners. The themes in "Ultramarathon Man" can be applied universally - anyone who's ever faced a monumental task will appreciate Karnazes story. That said runners (marathoners in particular) will have a special appreciation for this read. I found myself laughing out loud at things most non-runners would find appalling (e.g. lost toe nails, blisters, and creative use of superglue).

The tale follows Karnazes' life as a runner as boy in the mid seventies to his more recent feats of extraordinary endurance as an adult.

I would like to share a few of my favorite passages from the book. This first takes place as Karnazes is running the Western States 100, a 100 mile foot race through some of the most remote and rugged mountains in the country. This quote comes as Karnezes departs a checkpoint, 55 miles into the race.

"I found myself alone again on the trail. It was just after 5:20PM, and the next checkpoint, at Foresthill, was six short but tough miles away. Just one 10K, I thought to myself. When I reach Foresthill, I’ll have covered 62 miles. From that point, all I have left is a marathon and two back-to-back 10Ks."

Breaking the race down into smaller, more manageable chunks is a brilliant strategy but come on! A marathon followed by two back to back 10Ks after having already run 60+ miles... That is insane! I love this guy!

Another quote comes from The Relay – which is a 199 mile team relay from Calistoga to Santa Cruz, California. Note that this is a TEAM relay. Karnazes did the entire thing himself. Alone. Nonstop.

“The human body is capable of extraordinary feats of endurance, but it has protective mechanisms to prevent total annihilation. Typically the system will shut down before physical destruction occurs. Blacking out is the body’s ultimate act of self-preservation. When you’re teetering on the edge of coherence – which running 185 miles can induce – stepping over the edge becomes a very real threat. One minute you’re running, the next you’re in the back of an ambulance heading for the ER.”

Okay, so obviously I am pretty impressed with this guy and his book. It's a great read and I highly recommend reading it. I also recommend you take a look at and support his next feat - The Endurance 50 - 50 marathons in 50 States in 50 consecutive days. All I can say is wow, I am in awe.

I leave you with a few additional links and one final excerpt from “Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All Night Runner." This qoute comes from 185 miles into The Relay.

“Dozens of team runners began catching up and passing me on the narrow road to Santa Cruz. Few had any idea I’d been running for the past two days straight as they grunted encouragement while blowing by me. People of all walks of life passed me – young and old, experienced runners and new recruits. Periodically some hotshot speed demon, bent on turning in his fastest leg ever, would rocket by me without so much a nod. A hundred miles ago, I might have been tempted to chase him. But after running the equivalent of seven consecutive marathons nonstop, my ego had been sufficiently tempered, and being passed wasn’t the least bet demoralizing."

Dean Karnazes website.
Interview with Dean Karnazes on NPR.
Interview wiht Dean karnazes on A Trail Runners Blog.

Memorial Day 15K

According to Wikipedia “Decoration Day” was first observed in the years following the Civil War as a way to mark the end of the war and honor those soldiers who had given their lives. As time went on “Decoration Day” was expanded to honor not just Civil War casualties but all service men and women who gave there lives regardless of the conflict. In 1967 Decoration Day became Memorial Day by way of a Federal Law. Interestingly enough the small town of Waterloo in the Finger Lakes region of New York is credited as the “official” birthplace of Memorial Day.

While not really anywhere near Waterloo, I spent this Memorial Weekend in Woodstock, NY visiting family and getting ready for the Woodstock Memorial Day 15K which was presented by the Onteora Road Runners.

The field of runners for the 15K was relatively small when compared to a NYRR race but was fairly well organized with a clearly marked course, police at most intersections, several water stations and best of all, a decent race tee shirt.

Hoping for a 1:05:00 PR I set out on a strong pace of 6:30/mile at the start. Knowing that the race was “very challenging” (read: lots of big and steep hills) I wanted to build a little cushion early in the race and on the flat sections. For the first mile or so I was able to keep the pace vehicle in sight, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.

As it turns out, the “flat sections” consist of the first half mile of the race and the last half mile of the race. Augh.

As the pace vehicle and lead pack slipped away I changed gears and focused on running my race. I knew early on that a PR wasn’t in the cards but tried to keep as near to a 7:00/mile pace as possible.

The roads twist, turn, zig and zag through some very scenic neighborhoods but all the while the hills came. What I lost on the way up the hills I tried to gain on the way down but by mile 6 I was starting to hurt as you can see from these splits:

Mile 1 - 6:50
Mile 2 - 7:05
Mile 3 - 7:03
Mile 4 - 7:02
Mile 5 - 7:04
Mile 6 - 7:22
Mile 7 - 7:34
Mile 8 - 7:33
Mile 9 - 7:10
Last Bit - 1:58

While shy of a PR I still feel as though I ran a strong race over a difficult course and was able to have a little left over for the finish with a time of 1:06:41 (watch time - official time not yet available).

Most importantly the Woodstock Memorial 15K gave me time to reflect on the veterans who have sacrificed so much for this country – particularly my grandfather (a World War II Marine who was lucky enough to survive the war and live a long life). His courage and the ultimate sacrifice that so many of our war heros have made over the centuries makes running up rolling hills along back back roads of Woodstock, New York a considerable bit easier.

-Josh

Rookie Blogger

While I maintian this blog for fun and a way to help organize my thoughts on running, I have to admit that for the past two weeks or so I have been somewhat dissapointed that recent posts were not receiving any comments. I thought to myself "self, no one is reading your blog. Why bother?"

Then yesterday morning I got an email from Yvonne inquiring into why I have comments disabled on my blog. Clearly, I am still a rookie blogger and as I pointed out to Yvonne, a dolt.

I've since approved all of the "comments in waiting" and have turned on the "allow comments" feature.

Thank you for reading this blog, particularly those of you who take a moment to post a comment. Your feedback is appreciated.

Happy Running!

-Josh

Shrieking Children and a Healthy Sheikh

Saturday afternoon and I sit outside my uber cool and totally unpretentious neighborhood café/wine bar on this glorious day. A pale blue sky punctuated by the occasional cloud and highlighted with a cool and refreshing breeze - what could be better…?

Perhaps some freaking silence! The deafeningly loud (and far too near) children and their armor piercing shrieks are driving me nuts! Even more irritating, if that’s possible at this point, is the fact that they are ruining my enjoyment of not only this peaceful afternoon but a rather nice Albarino... Damn children! I suppose I aught to be pleased that they are actually outside running around rather than eating Hostess Cupcakes, playing PS2 and sending other lethargic and borderline obese children nonsensical text messages, but I digress. Rather than ranting about ill-behaved children I shall focus on what I had intended to do which is to write up a race report on the New York Road Runners Healthy Kidney 10K.

I must admit that I was a little surprised that the Embassy of the United Arab Emerates was the primary sponsor of this event. What could the UAE have in common with the New York Road Runners Club? As it turns out Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al-Nahyan, former president of the UAE had a kidney transplant here in the United States and is very thankful. I am very thankful for the fancy technical race tee shirt. (More here)

In short, I am pleased with the race and my performance. I was able to run a PR, not by much, but a PR none the less. I can’t really complain about my time in light of the fact that the guy who won, Austrailian Craig Mottram, missed a bonus $10,000 purse for breaking the course record by 3 seconds. (More here)

This race drew a larger than normal crowd and the chute was especially tight, even at the front. I spent the first half mile dodging race walkers and 10-minute milers but the pack eventually thinned and I turned in a 6:50 mile 1. I then settled in and focused on running my race.

The course made its way through the Harlem Hills in Central Park, which, for those of you who've not run them are pretty tough. Head down, eyes up, I leaned in and grinded them out. At the 5K mark I had a time of 21:23 and the more difficult half of the course was behind me. I finished the race with a time of 42:12, a personal record by about 30 seconds.

My next race is on Memorial Day in Woodstock, NY. It’s a 15K and I think I will try to run at a 7 minute per mile pace which would give me a finishing time of about 1:05:00. This may be optimistic for this distance particularly given the “very challenging” course but what the hell, aim high!

Feet in the Clouds

With 400+ miles on my current pair it is most definitely time to buy some new running shoes which is always a thrilling time filled with many pitfalls and difficult questions… Do I go with the New Balance 1060’s or try the Brooks Radius 6’s that are getting such good reviews… Perhaps I stick with my Asics… What’s a guy to do???

For the past couple of years I have been wearing Asics and I’ve been rather happy with them. First I ran through a couple pairs of Asics Gel Kayano’s but got a little put off by the price tag – at $135.00 a pop they ain’t cheap.

So I moved on (or down) to the Asics Gel Cumulus which is also a fine shoe but perhaps lacks some of the cushion and responsiveness of it’s more expensive counterpart – the Kayano.

Now I find myself poised to begin ramping up my training (mileage) for the NYC Marathon and flustered about which shoe I want to accompany me along the way. This is further complicated by the fact that I should probably buy 2 pair for the journey so that I have an identical pair of fresh shoes to switch to come autumn and race day.


Option One – Cumulus
Stick with the Asics Gel Cumulus. I have been wearing them for about 5 months and have been pretty happy with them. They’ve also seen me through a couple of PR’s. The Cumulus also has the added benefit of being far less expensive them the Kayano’s or even the Asics Gel Nimbus.




Option Two – Nimbus
I recently visited one of my favorite running stores, The Super Runners Shop, and tried on the most recent editions of the Kayano, Nimbus and Cumulus. I have to say that I liked the feel of the Nimbus best of all. In terms of price, the Nimbus bridges the gap between the top of the line Kayano and the more budget Cumulus. Perhaps I split the difference and go with the “non-road tested” Nimbus – they did after all feel very good.

Option Three – Kayano
Pony up and buy the Kayano’s. They’re great shoes and probably worth the cost. I am going to be doing a lot of long, hard miles in them and my arches, heels, ankles, knees and everything else will surely appreciate any additional advantages.

So now I put forth this question to you: What shoes should I buy and should I get one or two pair of them?

Which Shoes Should I Buy?
	Option 1 - Cumulus (one pair)
	Option 1 - Cumulus (two pair)
	Option 2 - Nimbus (one pair)
	Option 2 - Nimbus (two pair)
	Option 3 - Kayano (one pair)
	Option 3 - Kayano (two pair)
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Good Times on Rikers Island

Today marked the 9th annual Rikers Island 5K Challenge. Yes, that’s right… The Rikers Island, as in New York’s largest jail facility. Fortunately, New York’s Boldest let me off the island after the race for good behavior.

Before starting the race, all participants and visitors have to get a special hand stamp, that is, if you want to leave the island. Once registered, stamped, stretched out and warmed up it was time to race.

In a typical NYRR race in Central Park there are thousands of runners so getting a good position in the chute is important. Here however there only a couple hundred runners so I lined up right in the front – which isn’t all that unreasonable considering I was going to try for a 6:20/mile pace.

The race actually begins in Queens and immediately goes over the Rikers Island Bridge (see red arrow in below image) which is probably about 3/4 of a mile long and has a pretty hefty incline. At this point I was probably running at or maybe just better than my target pace but the hill was difficult and my breathing had already become labored.

As you come down off the bridge you enter Rikers Island proper and pass through a series of gates patrolled by some seriously armed corrections officers! The course flattens out and I was able to find my groove even if somewhat forced.

“Where’s the 1 mile mark” I asked myself. Glancing down at my watch I realized that I’m 8 minutes into the race. I either past it without noticing, there are no mile markers or I am way off my pace.

The race then wrapped around a couple of jail blocks and the catcalls from the inmates began. I cannot confirm it, but am told that there may have been some lewd comments offered up. The one that sticks out most to me was a rather innocent, if uninspired, “Run Forest! Run!” Given the circumstances it still made me smile.

As the race made its way along the back stretch very near a Laguardia Airport landing strip (see yellow arrow in above image) I strained, pushing to stay toe to toe with Mike while keeping an eye on Jeff who was maybe 25 meters ahead. Around a bend, up another hill and there it is - the finish. I noticed the official clock time – 19:50. I wanted to come in under 20 minutes. In a bad way. So I kicked up the last little incline and to the finish.

My final time… 19:58. Roughly a 6:26/mile pace and a 5K PR by over a minute.

The good people of the Department of Correction had a barbeque and were making hotdogs and hamburgers. Hey, who doesn’t want to enjoy a burger at 10:30 in the morning in the parking lot of one of the toughing prisons in the country? I certainly did!

Good times on Rikers Island indeed! Maybe I’ll come back. Then again…

Guaranteed

What are you doing on November 5th, 2006?

The Queens Half Marathon or why a PF is better than a PR

Since the Brooklyn Half Marathon on March 18th I have been somewhat fixated on improving my time for the Queens Half Marathon – which I ran this morning with the Hellgate Road Runners.

It was a beautiful morning in McNeil Park, cool air with a clear sky and a fair headwind. Just the right kind of weather to set a personal record and have a great race.

I had volunteered to drive a few teammates to the race and we met with what seemed like plenty of time. Disappointingly, the traffic on College Point Boulevard was a bit of a mess and didn’t allow much time to get ready at the start.

The gun went off before I was able to get into the starting queue. This unfortunately put me at a bit of a disadvantage as I was stuck way in the back with slower runners. I spent the first 1 or 2 miles zigzagging left and right, speeding up, slowing down, getting boxed in and finally cutting over and running on the sidewalks. I managed 7-minute miles but I wasted a lot of energy and was off my game plan before the race really got underway.

As the race course made its way through Queens I settled into a pace which was slightly faster than I had planned (I realize that this was probably not a great idea but I was pushing for another big PR) which worked out great for the first lap of the course. (Thanks to Jared for the photo)

Coming around Mile 6 “The Hellgate Cheering Squad” spurred me on (thanks guys!) but the lift was temporary and the hurt was coming. Miles 8, 9 and 10 were bad. I mean frothy mouth, snotty nose, mental malfunction, synapse misfiring, only enough awareness to keep me upright putting one foot in front of the other bad.
Seeing the sign marking mile 11 snapped me back to cognizance (the water and Gu may have played a role too).

With only a 5K to go I glanced at my watch and realized there was still a shot of achieving my goal... A sub 1:35:00. So I pressed on... but there wasn’t too much left in the reserves. The poor starting position, hilly course and the now damnable headwind had taken too much out of me. Regardless, I went for it.

Approaching Mile 13 the Hellgaters were there making noise for me once again but I knew that my 1:35:00 wasn't within reach. Still,I put my nose down and kicked. But it wasn’t there. My 1/4 mile kick wasn't there.

I crossed the finish line with a net time of 1:35:51 - an average pace of 7:19.

I suppose that I could blame the headwind and hills, or point a finger at the misfortune of a poor starting position but the real responsibility resides with me. My training has been too casual these past two weeks and lacks sufficient speed work. I need to focus and balance my training.

Long. Tempo. Speed. Recover.

Despite all the piss, vinegar, doom and gloom, there are a couple of points I would like to make before I sign off. They are:

• A 1:35:51 is still a Personal Record by over a minute.
• I've learned (or perhaps re-learned) that running a good race has more to do with a Personal Feeling of accomplishment as a result of hard work than with a Personal Record.

With that said, does anyone know of a good (and flat) half marathon in the New York area toward the end of May?

PS - An update on a prior post, the New York Road Runners posted pictures of the Adidas Run for the Parks... Yup, yours truly along with soggy running buddies Shayna and John.

Rain Drops Keep Fallin’ On My Head

Today was the Adidas Run For The Parks 4 Miler in Central Park. I also needed to work in my last long run in anticipation of the Queens Half Marathon. What to do…?

Well, combine them of course!

I figured that since the race didn’t start until 10:00AM that I would be able to get about 8 miles in prior without having to get up at some utterly ungodly hour. Harry, our alarm clock, er, I mean our Yorkshire Terrier was good enough to wake me up with time to spare. Thanks buddy.

Unfortunately for both Harry and me it was pouring rain this morning but I am happy to say that a little precipitation wasn’t going to deter us. Oh no. I have a personal record to set in Queens and Harry needed to ah, sniff, the neighbors’ fence.

After fortifying with a little breakfast, consisting of toast, I was off into the rain again. This time bound for Central Park, by way of the Queensborough Bridge. And oh the rain kept coming. First a drizzle, then a downpour, then a drizzle again, but never once did it stop.

As I got into Central Park and began to do a couple laps of the lower loop, I noticed that it seemed to be raining harder on the West side then the East. I’m rather certain that’s impossible since Central Park is probably less than a half mile from east to west but it did seem that way.

10:00AM approached and it was time to line up for the race. I cut through the park near the Mall to the start at Bethesda Terrace - 8 miles exactly. Nice.

8 miles into a 12 mile run I had no intention of running all out, so after getting around the masses I settled into a comfortable, if quicker than I anticipated, pace of 7:21. My last mile was sub-7 minute (I just can’t resist picking up the pace at the end of a race!).

And the rain kept coming… At this point, I was soaked. My lightweight technical gear and expensive shoes probably added a good 10 pounds. So after chatting briefly with some teammates I headed to the Subway. I left a huge puddle on the floor of the subway car. The upside? Nobody wanted to sit next to me…

After a hot shower, lunch and a nap, Harry and I went outside again…In a mild twist of irony the rain had left and in its place was a beautiful day.

I suppose I could have looked at the weather report and waited out the rain. I could have enjoyed the morning, warm and dry.

My run in the rain was harder mentally and physically and thus more rewarding. Hopefully it’ll pay off in Queens.

It's Been a Tough Week

Thus far Easter Sunday has been a very relaxing and quiet day and for that I do thank the Lord. The preceding seven days have been well, somewhat hellish and perhaps worthy of a little blog post.

One week ago today Salena and I drove back to New York from Charlottesville, Virginia. It was a nine-hour drive full of magnificent sights such as the New Jersey Turnpike, The Fort McHenry Tunnel and the Delaware Memorial Bridge, delectable meals at IHOP and Burger King and immaculate rest stop facilities. Oh, and least I forget, the fuse to the car radio/CD player fizzled out early in the trip. A trip truly worth the gas and tolls! We were in Virginia visiting Salena’s mother. Joining us were Salena’s younger sister Shonet who made the trek down from Kingston, NY with Salena’s Boston-based sister Susan and Susan’s significant other Joe. It was a nice visit and we all had a most agreeable time – enjoying plenty of good cooking and lots of yummy wine (thank you Shonet for the bottle of Ravenswood Icon!).

I had hoped that I would be able to leave the office on Monday with enough time to make it to hill work with the Hellgaters but my employer had other ideas. Instead it would be a 10 hour + day. We’re launching a new division of the business and it has become part of my job to make sure that they have everything they need… Including an office. Setting up an office for 13 people complete with real estate, office furniture, telephones, internet, computers, printers (and other ancillary items) in 5 business days while simultaneously doing your “actual” job is sort of like running a marathon at a 5K pace.

Knowing Tuesday would bring more of the same I got up early and got in a 30 minute tempo run at a sub 7 minute per mile pace. When I got in from my run I jumped in the shower and the phone rang. I knew it was not good news. A little before 8:00AM on Tuesday, April 11, 2006 my grandfather, Elmer “Old E.C.” Connelly passed away. He was an amazing man and will be dearly missed and is sure to be the subject of a future post to this blog.

Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent trying to hold back my emotion and focus on work. For the most part I was successful on both counts but still managed to put in a 10 hour day at the office before meeting Salena at a favorite neighborhood restaurant where I promptly put back a couple of Knob Creek Manhattans.

Wednesday was hump day and it brought the real joy of the week. I was at the office at 8:30AM to meet Donald MacDonald, our interior designer, before heading back to the Jersey Turnpike, this time to Elizabeth New Jersey – the home of Ikea! Countless hours and about $10,000 later we had our cargo van and what must have been about 3,500 pounds of unassembled Swedish office furniture. I got home from work sometime around 12:30AM Thursday. It was a 15 + hour day and vive hombre what a work out! Shout out to Bryce who helped unload the van.

I stopped keeping track of my hours Thursday but know that it was a long day spent with our bookkeeper approving invoices and cutting checks.

Friday was a somewhat long stressful day due to competing priorities between my Marketing duties, Finance duties and the task of setting up the new office space – Marketing won. Which meant that Saturday would be spent at the office on finance.

Before heading into the office Saturday I did get to go for a run on Saturday morning with the Hellgate Road Runners. It was a good long run at a solid pace from Astoria Park in Queens to McCarren Park in Brooklyn - 9.7 miles according to my Nike Traix v10. I spent the rest of the day (about 6-7 hours) generating and sending invoices. Exhausted, Salena and I went for dinner on Saturday night.

I had fully intended to get in some Easter Bunny speed work down at the track today but instead found that the only repeats I would be doing were naps.

I am resolving to work fewer hours this week and make it to the 7:30PM Hellgate workouts on Monday and Wednesday at a very minimum which means that I will need to leave work at 6:00PM. Not all that unreasonable I should think! After all, how am I going to PR at the Queens Half Marathon if I don’t get some speed work in?

For the moment, I am going to enjoy my dinner, pour another glass of Veuve Clicquot and let the bubbles work their magic!

Happy Easter to all.

Product Endorsement

I was recently gifted a Nike Triax v10 Pedometer. My first inclination was something to the effect of "wow that's very nice - but do I really need another watch?" After all I already have a Timex Ironman Triathlon watch and a Polar Heart Rate Monitor watch. Truth be told, I did sort of have my eye on the Garmin Forerunner GPS watch.

After briefly thumbing through the instruction manual I figured I'd take it for a test drive on my Monday evening hill work out session. Unfortunately, I was late and rushing to get out the door and didn't take the time to fully familiarize myself with the operation of the watch. Though I had a good workout, I had no idea what my time was because I kept pressing random buttons on the watch. Alas.

When all else fails, read the instructions.

So I did. I took the watch (and instruction booklet) down to the track to properly calibrate it, which turned out to be a very simple process particularly since I followed the step by step instructions.

The watch comes in two parts: the actual wrist watch and the Pod that attaches to your shoe. The Pod measures your rate of acceleration and deceleration 100 times per second and transmits a signal to the watch which in turn calculates your distance and pace. The Pod is small and light. Nike claims that when properly calibrated the watch is some 97% accurate. I must confess that in road tests the pedometer is actually very much spot on.

On Thursday I went out for a long run in a route in Virginia that I am not familiar with. The Nike Triax showed that I ran 11.11 miles. I then retraced the route in my car using the odometer. The car odometer showed 11.2 miles - a difference of less that 1% and when you figure in the fact that I may have cut a corner or two while running... Well, let's just say the watch is pretty darn accurate.

In summary the Nike Triax v10 is pretty nifty and in addition to being a good pedometer it boasts a full set of features you would expect from a quality timepiece. Big props to both Nike and the giver of this gift.

Side Note: I am in Virginia at my mother in-law's. The community she lives in is wooded and surrounds a lake. It's quite nice but the 11.11 miles of Virginia hills are killing me. See the photo on the right. Seriously, I am talking about 11.11 miles of rolling hills. AUGH!

Also, I have come across deer twice more. I have now seen more deer in the past two weeks than I have in the past 10 years.

I Love Runners

I love runners.

When I am out running and I cross paths with another runner going the opposite direction I cannot help but to at least glance at them if not make full eye contact, smile, head nod and perchance offer up a cordial-but-not-too-friendly “hi” or “morning” (this is New York after all. One cannot be too friendly).

When I am driving and see a fellow runner I slow down to see if I know them and strain my neck to take in their stride. It’s amazing how you can identify a running buddy just from their gait...

I take a certain pride in being an active part of the local running community and that makes me quite happy. From the tall, skinny Asian guy in the faded pink warm-up to the woman with the brown curly hair and powerful stride who’s always got her headphones on to the ultra-marathon guy who chews on sticks and runs effortlessly day and night. I feel fellowship and community with these people even though I have hardly ever said more than “hello” to them.

I love runners.

I mention this because I was in Upstate New York over the weekend and went for a 10 miler on the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail which essentially runs north and south along the Wallkill River between New Paltz and Rosendale, New York.

It was a beautiful morning complimented by the beauty of the trail itself. Morning sunlight poured through the budding trees and you could feel that spring was just around the bend. I ran past blue jays, cardinals, robins and a variety of other birds I’m unable to identify due to my ignorance (did I mention I am not a member of the Audubon Society?). I breezed by squirrels and even a few chipmunks (Alvin, Simon, Theodore!). I strode past a chicken coop, horses and some cows. The real shocker was when 4 deer loped across the trail just a few meters ahead of me. Imagine my surprise.

It was a terrific run but also challenging in part because I haven’t been logging too many runs of this distance and also because it was a trail run and the soft earth absorbed a lot of the energy return I am accustomed to by running on concrete. Oh yeah, and the terrain is somewhat uneven.

Regardless, something was missing and I think I know what it is. I missed the dozens of anonymous Astoria Park runners. I missed my friendly local running community.

Sausage Update

Just a quick update on the “Sausage” post:

I've just returned from a 6 mile tempo run and am rather ecstatic to report that nothing of note happened aside from feeling a bit dehydrated along the way. Golly, I wonder why...

I think I'll live. Phew!

Sidelined by Sausage

I ran a solid PR at the Brooklyn Half Marathon last Saturday followed by a sensible recovery run Sunday. Monday night was a rigorous (and chilly) hill work session. Good training practices might suggest that Tuesday be a rest day – and it was.

Wednesday would have been speed work had the demands of my employer and the need for income not interfered (Drat, those pesky realities are always getting in the way!). Good worker-bee that I am, I went in early and stayed late hoping to get a jump on a weekly report I compile and deliver on Fridays. Turns out my efforts went unnoticed and were all for naught as my entire day was devoted to troubleshooting, crisis management, and solving other peoples issues.

Arriving home after a long day I settled into a lovely Syrah and decided on a plate of leftover pasta. I opted to enhance the already delicious penne ala vodka with some sausage I’d picked up from the local grocery store.

The meal came together perfectly. Sausage thoroughly cooked, pasta al dente, vodka sauce rich and spicy, a bit of grated Parmesan cheese. Bon appetit!

It was around 11 o’clock that I began to feel something funky going on – gastrointestinally speaking that is. It was around 1 o'clock in the morning when things began to get ugly.

****I would recommend that readers with weak stomachs skip ahead****

I hastily made my way to the bathroom and uncomfortably waited for what felt like an eternity. Feeling nauseous and disoriented, my mouth flooding with pre-vomit saliva I cursed my meal. Why? Why? Why? Then my stomach clenched, adrenaline pumped and in a moment of clarity I lunged for the bowl. On my knees, my body convulsed in an attempt to purge that which upset it so, but the effort was in vain. As the dry heaves subsided I found myself shaking, sweating and cold; my stomach still full of evil.

I cleaned myself off, found a blanket and pillow and set up base camp on the futon. Clearly this was going to be a long night and there is no need for my wife to suffer through it with me.

For hours my stomach flopped, gurgled and rolled like a storm churned sea. I lay wide-awake anxiously awaiting my fate. Sometime after 4 o’clock in the morning it was time to do war with my demons. It was an epic battle.

My body has never, ever, rejected anything with such force. My abdomen would contract forcing my mouth open. The sound of a visceral, barbaric and guttural yawp could momentarily be heard before being drowned out by rushing bile and the partially digested death that had been my dinner hours before. My head throbbed, my eyes watered and still my stomach emptied itself until there was nothing left.

Feeling loathsome and foul I picked myself off the floor and cleaned up as best I could in my battle-fatigued state before heading back to curl up and die.

****It’s safe to start reading again****

Needless to say, I did not go to work on Thursday nor did I get a run of any distance in. Instead I moaned, groaned and generally felt miserable. Friday was the same with one exception – my weekly report was due.

I had my laptop with me and was fortunately able to work from home. Saturday was much better; I could walk, talk, and even keep down food. But still, running seemed a bit too much to ask of my beleaguered body.

So here we are on Sunday afternoon. I’ve not run for almost a week, my stomach still feels somewhat queasy and I have (most likely) a few pieces of sausage to blame. It seems unjust that something so small and tasty can wreak such severe damage.

If there’s an upside, it’s that I’ve lost a few pounds and did a killer ab workout.

Trash Talk

I offer up friendly competition at the Queens Half Marathon and she drops the "Gauntlet.” I offer up a compliment and she responds by stating that I am the “Joker to (her) Batman!”

Being as juvenile and immature as I am I simply cannot turn the other cheek. Every fiber of my being demands that I must not only respond in kind, but raise the bar. Therefore Kate, you are:

• The Khrushchev to my JFK
• The hanging chad to my Gore
• The Lex Luthor to my Superman
• The Sammy Hagar to my David Lee Roth
  
• Dirty Red Sox to my Pinstriped Yankees
• Death Row to my Bad Boy Records
• A mouse to my cat
• A cat to my dog
• Alzheimer's to my Reagan (ok maybe this is going a little too far)
  

But wait, what’s this? You’ve strained your hammy? Sounds to me like you’re chicken. Simply afraid that I’ll be a few steps, meters, or minutes ahead when the real gauntlet gets dropped in Queens?

In all seriousness, I am sorry to hear about your hamstring. Setbacks like that can be tremendously frustrating. My honest and only bit of advice is to rest. You’ll probably come back stronger for having taken the break. Which is what happened to me while training for Chicago. I lost two weeks of peak milage due to an extremely painful heel spur, but when I came back, I came back stronger.

The Brooklyn Half Marathon or How I Bonked on Ocean Parkway

Today I ran the New York Road Runners Club’s Brooklyn Half Marathon. The race began at 8:00AM on the Boardwalk in Coney Island. It’s a great race and I believe one of the oldest continuously run half marathons in the country.

Some context before I dive into the details of the race… I’ve run about eight half marathons including last year’s Brooklyn Half and I’ve never been able to break 1 hour 46 minutes (just over an 8 minute per mile pace). The closest was the 2005 Bronx Half Marathon where I finished with a net time of 1:46:03, just 3 seconds shy of a preferred start for the Chicago Marathon. As you can imagine I was considerably annoyed. Of late however, actually since Chicago, I have been running strongly and have bested several personal records for shorter distances (5k, 4 miler, 10k & 15k), but I digress.

I arrived at the start of the race in plenty of time (thanks to Jared and LuAnn for organizing transportation) to use the facilities, stretch, and warm up a bit. I use the word “warm” somewhat loosely as it was a nippy 33 degrees and a chilly wind was coming off the beach. Moments later I found myself lined up with some teammates near the start and we were off.

And we were really off… At the first mile marker Kate, a fellow Hellgate Road Runner and friendly competitor said something to the effect of “Uh Oh, look at the time!” We had just run the first of 13.1 miles in 6:30. Now, starting out too fast on longer distance races is a lesson I’ve learned before (2004 NYC Marathon) but I guess not nearly well enough. Knowing I couldn’t keep that pace up for another 12.1 miles I backed off. Some anyways. Kate was running strong and though she had slowed a bit she was still pushing herself, and subsequently me, pretty hard. Pride is a funny thing.

At the second mile marker she had opened up a lead of 10-15 meters. A couple of times I toyed with the idea of catching her but figured I’d play it conservative – we were after all only 5 kilometers into the race. All the time in the world to hang back and when the time is right close the gap...“Surprise! How you doing?”

But then Ocean Parkway happened. Ocean Parkway is long and straight and flat and Kate was edging away. Somewhere around mile 8 I lost her. No “Surprise!” No “How you doing?” Just me, my pride, my spent legs and another 4 miles of Brooklyn to cover.

Finally the course turned off Ocean Parkway into fabulous Prospect Park. Knowing the finish was within reach and encouraged by the words of teammates along the course (Thanks Guys! I needed that!) I pushed on strong, churning up the devilishly long hill at mile 10 and around the rest of the course.

And there it was… The finish. Regardless of the distance or how tired I am something happens to me when I see the finish line – I sprint full out. There’s my big old ego again.

I crossed the finish line in a net time of 1:36:59 – a personal record by about 9 minutes and 12 minutes better than my time for the same course last year. To say that I’m jazzed by this would be about right. But like most other runners I am already looking ahead to a 10k in early April and the Queens Half Marathon on April 29th. Look out Kate.

Ha! Just kidding… sorta!

Getting To Florida

I woke last Friday morning first at 4:44AM to my whining dog. Harry sleeps in his crate every night, but has gotten into the habit of rising before the sun and whimpering until we wake up and let him out so that he can relieve his little doggy bladder. Fortunately, this is a task Salena typically attends to. This crucial and pressing moment behind us, I restlessly tossed and turned in bed. Harry, now relieved, rested comfortably.

In theory I am to fly to Tampa Florida where I will connect with my brother, who's arriving from Detroit, for a visit with our uncle and grandfather. This all sounds great, as I had been looking forward to a little break for weeks.

6:00AM the alarm went off and the day began (again) officially. Three hours until my 9:00AM departure - plenty of time especially considering that I packed the night before. All I’ve got to do is shower, get dressed, call a car service and get to the nearby airport.

6:53AM – OH NO! My stomach flops, my heart sinks and my blood boils all at the same instant. The flight departs at 8 o’clock not 9 o’clock. What was I thinking! How did I miss that small, yet, hugely significant detail? Am I an idiot? Clearly, I am. Quickly I shower, call the car service and throw the last few items into my bags and head out to the street to await the arrival of the car service.

7:23AM John, a pleasant driver from New Enrico’s - (718) 728-5599 if you’re in Queens New York and need a good pet friendly car service - arrived a few moments later. I explained my situation and my new friend stomped on the pedal of his minivan. The good news is that traffic wasn’t too bad on the Grand Central Parkway. The bad news is that John’s effort was in vain.

7:48AM I arrive at the Delta Song terminal at JFK, but it is all for naught. The plane had already begun boarding and my seat – along with those of several other slightly tardy travelers - was reassigned to a standby passenger. Damn you, cruel world!

Well, what’s one to do but find a cozy spot at the airport and read a good book for six hours…? Yup, the next available flight doesn’t depart until 1:40PM and I may, or may not, be able to get a ticket. Delta can’t confirm me until 3 hours before departure.

Fortunately for me, I had recently begun “The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini, which incidentally is an amazing book. I highly recommend it.

Now ticketed and confirmed for the 1:40 flight I am able to relax and stroll through the shops at the airport. I must confess my impression of airports has always been that of a very busy place - lots of hustle and bustle with people rushing hither and thither. Then again I don’t typically spend 6 hours at airports with nothing to do but quietly observe all morning. I can now say with the utmost confidence that JFK International airport is an exceedingly dull place on Friday mornings.

My flight is on time and this time so am I. Eureka! I board and find my seat. Ironically, I find that my assigned seat (and entire row) is occupied. Sitting in my assigned isle seat is an annoying little man who, like me, missed the earlier flight. WHAT!!!??? This cannot be! Once more I am filled with rage, but rather than make a scene, I take the isle seat directly in font of him, which has three consecutive unoccupied seats and cross my fingers.

More and more passengers board and make their way to their seats. As people stumble and squeeze down the isle I dread that awkward moment of “excuse me, I think you’re in my seat.” I make eye contact with a fat Greek lady with hair growing from a mole on her face and am absolutely positive she’s heading for me. Then she pauses and waddles into a seat a few rows in front of me. Phew, dodged a bullet!

“The cabin door is now closed and all passengers are aboard the plane. Please find your seat as quickly as possible so the captain taxi to the runway.” Could it be? Will fate pay me back with a flight to Tampa with an entire row of seats to myself?

Then it happens. One of the last people to board the plane, and I am in his seat. “Pardon, but I think you’re in my seat.”

“Of course I am you moron! I’m in your seat because the jackass sitting directly behind is in my seat canoodling with his wife.”

Now I didn’t actually say this. Instead, I pretended to look at my ticket, acted like it was an honest mistake and slid over to the window seat hoping not to have to go through this charade again in 5 minutes.

Only a few passengers remain and I am in the clear. I’ve a window seat; the seat adjacent is empty (thank the Good Lord!), and the polite man with good hygiene has settled into his rightful isle seat. This will be a good flight after all.

For the next few hours I’m engrossed in Mr. Hosseini’s tale of modern Afghanistan. Did I mention that this is a great book? Well, it is. Buy and read it.

Upon arrival in Tampa the thought dawns on me that perhaps my luggage didn’t make it. Happily that was not to be the case as my bag was one of the first to make it’s way around the serpentine baggage claim.

Fetching my bag I head to the exit and phoned Uncle Gary. “Well, I’ve made it. I’m heading to the baggage claim exit” I exclaim. “OK Bub, but you’re gonna have a wait a few minutes more. I’m stuck in traffic” he replies. Well that just fits perfectly.

I find a nice bench in the warm Florida sun, strip off the layers of winter clothes, stuff my jacket and sweater into my suitcase and dive back into my book which I am now just pages from finishing.

As I turn to the last page my phone rings again. Gary’s arrived at the airport and my mini-weekend trip can begin. Yes, it will be a nice break, damn it.