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.

The 1st Post

Inspired by the blog of a running buddy, I have decided to create my own. I am not exactly sure why, but hey, it can't hurt. Please feel free to visit the source of my inspiration here.

While Yvonne's blog is focused almost entirely on running (and now pregnancy), I doubt I will have ability to keep my rants, ruminations, ponderings, musings, insights (or lack there of) so narrowly directed. Kudos to Yvonne.

I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Josh Morphew. I am (currently) 28 years old. I live in Astoria, NY with my beautiful and loving wife Salena and our adorable, if sometimes misbehaved, Yorkshire Terrier named Harry.

I work in Midtown Manhattan for a web-based travel services publisher. I am an online direct response marketer and if you spend any time at all surfing the web you’ve more than likely seen my work. I am essentially a button pusher. A modern day e-factory worker. I like my job and more often than not, I like the people I work with.

In my personal time I enjoy running (I've completed three marathons), theater & the arts (when I'm feeling flush with cash and can afford the tickets), good wine (red, white or bubbly depending on my mood and/or the season more so than my entrée), good beer (Amber, IPA, Stout or Lager it doesn't much matter so long as quality is a key part of the brewing process) and spending time with family and friends (ideally in conjunction with one or more of the aforementioned).

For the moment, that’s about all I’ve to say. It’s time for some of that wine!