Jim kicks it off with his prediction for which of the Fab Five will cross the line first at Ironman Wisconsin.
Post Black Friday Run
Went out for dinner last night at a shoo shoo place and wracked up a huge bill, which Scott graciously paid for, but I’m not sure I’m gonna let him get away with it. The food was great, but limited, so we all went to Family Wash for another beer before I agreed to run with Jim in the morning. His plan was to meet at the Shelby Bottoms Nature Center, run nearly 3 miles to LP Field where he planned to do 8 one mile laps at his marathon tempo, then run back to Shelby.
It was a beautiful and very crisp morning (read freezing). I followed through and we ran 3 miles to LP field where I promptly video taped him running. There were about 10 people in the group and 7 of them were blazing at a sub-3-hour marathon pace. Jim’s running the Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville and looking to qualify for Boston at around 3:25. He said most of his laps were under his needed pace and hopefully that’s a good sign.
He passed on running back to Shelby, so I gave him a ride, then interviewed him for our Ironman Documentary.
After the interview he felt guilty and decided to run 3 more miles. I joined him and we casually knocked out a 23:30! Ha. I guess it really does help running with faster runners.
Music City Thanksgiving Day 4-Mile Run
If you had any doubt about my life being a complete cluster-f*k at times, this morning should cement your opinion.
I was up early and ready for the Music City Thanksgiving 4 Miler and carrying my new “smile attitude” for good measure. I went through a short warm-up routine in the basement that includes running in place, some push ups, and foam rolling to one of my go-to albums, “F*k This Shit We’re Outta Here,” by The Pimps. My dog circled me with her squeaky toy and my legs felt good, even after a 3.8 mile run with the East Nasties last night.
I left home at 7:30 for the 8:00 race and found myself in the back of a huge line of traffic around 7:40 at LP Field. I couldn’t understand how a 500 person race could cause this much back up at an NFL football stadium with thousands of parking slots. I found out soon enough.
After ten minutes I finally pulled into the ONE section they opened for race parking and a lady walks up to me and asked if I paid yet.
“Um, paid for what?”
“Parking.”
“Parking?”
“Yeah, it’s 5 bucks?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Don’t blame us, it’s the race organizer.”*
“I don’t have any cash.”
“Sorry.”
So, ten minutes to race time and I’m scrambling through the scrap yards and back alleys near LP Field looking for a parking spot, but there are cops everywhere screaming, “You can’t park there!”
I spin around the corner, and cut through the actual race course, loop all the way around the stadium and find a lot that takes credit cards. But, of course, the machine wasn’t working. I had to risk it and started running toward the start line. I turned the corner and saw the lead runners tearing off into the sunset. I missed the start!
Five hundred runners tore past me and I played Frogger to get through them and find the registration tent. The nice lady gave me my bib and ripped off my timing chip which I put on my shoe. I circled back around the start line, hit my watch, and raced after the racers.
I didn’t catch the first walker until point 3 miles into the race. Then it was navigation time as I slipped and slid through the massive throng of people in front of me. We curled through the “infamous parking area” and landed at the bottom of the imposing Shelby Street Bridge.
My hands and legs were cold, but my pace was blistering (for me). I hit the first mile mark around 7:15 and flew down the backside of the bridge with my goal of sub 30 minutes in tact. We weaved through the downtown construction, past the Rescue Mission, then up to the new roundabout near the spectacular Music City Center. It was a short steep hill that caught me off guard and hurt.
At the top of that hill we turned right onto Demonbreun and it was a four block downhill, so I trusted my ailing knee and pounded onward. I was cooking pretty good and passing people left and right. I used my new smiling technique coupled with parking anger to fuel my time, which was right on pace.
I staggered mid-way up the Shelby Bridge, but kept a steady 8 minute pace. Once on top, it was on again and I blasted down the backside feeling strong as we turned left toward the home stretch. I didn’t look at the race clock, but clicked stop on my watch as I crossed the finish line and it read 28:51. A solid minute under my goal and a 7:15 pace.
Like a turkey that escaped the kill, I proudly walked to the finish table where I saw fellow Fab Fiver, Daniel, who was time keeper for the race. I asked him to look up my number but he didn’t have a time for me. His buddy looked at my shoe and noticed I wasn’t wearing the right timing strip. It was still on my bib and didn’t register.
Okay, so lessons did we learn, kids?
1. Show up early to races flush with cash to grease unexpected parking officials.
2. Never trust nice old ladies to tie on your timing chips.
3. Listen to the Pimps to get you pumped up.
4. Smile in the face of it.
* Edit: I now see an email warning us about parking and evidently it is LP Field’s policy. Note to LP Field: Just because your football team sucks doesn’t mean you have to.
Endurance Basketball: 138 Points in One Game
So, this guy scored 138 points in a basketball game last night–absolutely demolishing the old record of 113 set in 1954. My first reaction was, “What a dick!” Then I realized he is from my home state of Wisconsin and went to my alma mater, UW-LaCrosse, before transferring to Grinnell. So, I guess that makes my second reaction, “I bet this guy would be a good triathlete!”
Jack’s layup form is a perfect interpretation of the Pose running method in mid-air. Even the guy chasing him has a lean/fall going on, but his face is saying, “bonk.” Jack, however, is fresh and relaxed. Easing his way through mile 20 of a marathon with rhythm and confidence. How else could you shoot over 100 times in a game without having an elbow the size of a grapefruit?
I haven’t seen the post-game pictures, but I’m guessing he fielded questions in a thermal blanket much like an Ironman veteran:
“Yeah, after 90 shots I hit a little wall, but to finish with 138 points you have to plow through your pain threshold.”
Dude launched 108 shots in this game and I’m guessing he left the locker room in a three piece suit with wing tips and a pocket watch floating around like he was the new Ben Franklin. His girlfriend waiting patiently while batting eyes at her new celebrity boyfriend as he laid out high fives to frat boys and concession workers.
Jack has just cemented a legacy for that will last 100 years and could open a whole new mind-set for scoring much like Bannister’s 4-minute-mile did for running, but let’s hope not.
Triathlon Simulation
This is how ridiculous I can be. I came home after work determined to lay around and watch basketball, which I did for about 5 minutes. I got up, stumbled into the kitchen, ate an entire box of cereal, then decided, not only to workout, but to simulate a Sprint Triathlon at the Y.
I jumped in the pool and did a quick 11 laps (about 550 yards). I did my best to imagine people beating the shit out of me, but considering there were only two old ladies on aqua bikes in the shallow end, it wasn’t easy. I completed my first event in about 10 minutes, then ran into the locker room to dry off and change into sweats.
Transition One, about 5 minutes.
The large staircase was a welcome challenge on my way to the Spin Bike. I deftly avoided a large woman talking very loudly on her cell phone and trucked toward the sterile room full of ugly machines.
I used to love working out inside at the Y, but after learning how to run outside, I’m starting to question the validity of “gyms.” I mean, I get the weight part, I guess, but there is a Cross-fit gym not far from here that is in an old gas station and I love it when they open all the doors and flex “in nature.”
Inside workouts kinda bring me down. But, I sucked it up and jumped on the Spin Bike next to a colorful woman doing short choppy steps on her Stairmaster, which I decided was some type of effort to be better in bed or on the dance floor.
I spun and spun for what seemed like forever, but looked up at the clock and it was literally only 6 minutes. I was stunned, and, similar to most of my workouts, contemplated quitting. But I didn’t.
There’s something about riding a stationary bike that is both bullshit and awesome sauce. I sweat like a nun in a porn shop. I mean, there were puddles building and the bike started to drift closer to my colorful princess.
Somehow I toughed out 25 minutes before heading to the janitor’s closet and grabbing a wet vac to slurp up the puddles around my bike. My new lady friend didn’t seem to care and I noticed her ass was moving with a little more steam.
Transition two, about 3 minutes.
On to the treadmill for a quick 25 minute jog, or so I thought. The minute that belt started moving I remembered how much I hate fucking treadmills. I put the incline on “one” and pecked along at a 9 minute pace for, oh . . . about . . . 2 minutes.
I couldn’t take it. My ankles felt like they were going to get swallowed into some kind of treadmill vortex never to be seen again. There was nothing left to do, but chuckle, power down, and look forward to tomorrow night’s run with the East Nasties.
Post script: I signed up for a 4 mile race on Thanksgiving morning and yes, I really did eat a whole box of cereal. It was a smaller box, but I estimated about 1,000 calories. Must be something to do with post-work-early-darkness depression.
Flying Monkey Pics
I’m in conversion hell, so this will take at least another day, but here are a few more pictures from the one and only Flying Monkey.
The Flying Monkey Marathon
Wow. This course ate up some very good runners, but everyone seemed to really love the Flying Monkey! This from the website: We will time and measure the distance, but the course will not be certified and it will not be a Boston qualifying event. If you get to the end and you (or your gadget) believe the route to be long, we won’t charge you extra; if you believe it to be short, just keep running. There will be no bands, cheerleaders, wave starts or crowds. We promise no marathon Personal Records, but we guarantee every runner a PR – a Permanent Remembrance of a well-earned marathon finish. We promise to give you approximately 26.2 tough and memorable miles, with a total of over 3600 feet each of elevation gain and loss, or over 7200 feet of overall elevation change.
I went out to take a few pictures and ended up taking hundreds, which I’ll post on Flickr sometime tonight. In the meantime, congrats to everyone who finished one of the tougher marathons you’ll ever run! East Nasty represented in a big way! 
Triathlon Training: Effects of Chlorine
I have a few questions for you experts (or self reflecting types) on pool swimming. What are the effects of chlorine? It gets in my head a little because I’m well aware that Skin is the body’s biggest organ.
I try to get a good soap shower afterwards, but can often smell the the chemicals late into the night. Is there a special soap/shampoo I should be using? Has anyone felt like they’ve experienced chlorine detox during the day? Good swim caps? Pre-swim body apps? Any other thoughts on this topic?
Edit: I just found this link from Lance’s old operation – http://www.livestrong.com/article/196874-long-term-effects-of-chlorinated-water-on-the-skin/
Lessons From a Dog and Old Russians
I marvel at my dog’s ability to hit top speed. She could be in a dead sleep and pop to all fours in less than a second. That same feat normally takes me several snooze sessions and a few groans. I’ll open the door and she’ll be at full stride chasing a bird the minute she hits the ground.
Her diet consists of the same exact thing every day. Roughly a cup of Blue dog food in the morning, a couple treats at lunch and another cup of food at night. She only drinks water.
Is there something to this?
I recently read “Born to Run” and the centerpiece of the story was the Tarahumara tribe that is famous for running super-human distances of 50 to 100 miles just for the hell of it. By all accounts their diet seems remarkably consistent and simple.
Hall of Fame baseball player, Wade Boggs, is another guy who pops into my head. He allegedly ate only chicken before games. He was one of the steadiest hitters I’ve ever watched in baseball. Nothing flashy, but almost like endurance hitting. Night after night he would step into the batters box and perform one of the hardest sporting feats with amazing consistency.
And as I write this, a friend reminds me of the old Dannon commercials featuring 100 year old Russians who ate yogurt like fiends. And man were they spry!
Now, I’m just throwing this out for discussion, but are modern diets too diverse?
It goes without saying that it’s harder to work out when we’re not feeling well or exhausted. Could we be putting unnecessary strain on our digestive and immune systems with a wide variety of foods?
Today’s Diet:
Breakfast: Coffee
Lunch: Salmon, broccoli, blue cheese potato chips, cinnamon rolls
Snack: Hershey’s Bar
Dinner: Homemade chicken noodle soup, cottage cheese, two small pickles
Writing drinks: De-caf Coffee, Seltzer Water
My Craziest Race Thought to Date
Armondo’s at it again. Now, he’s trying to convince me to do an all night trail relay. That might be easy for the Red Wolf, but I’m like the Purple Quail in this mix.
So, the route is 5 miles with 4 people. It’s actually only 12 hours, but all night sounds more dangerous. I hear there is a 24 hour run, but . . .
If you remember, this is the same trail that ransacked my IT band in the first place,
but as you know, I am not one to take losing lightly. (Maybe you don’t know that and maybe it’s not even true but these are dramatic points of the story that just need to be inserted for suspense). I have been known to climb jagged rocks to bring supper back to my family (dog) and traverse miles of wicked hot terrain to secure a metal cupful of water.
Yeah, so Armondo’s all like, “We can rest in tents in between laps.”
Dude, it’s working… keep talking.”
“And eat hard boiled eggs in our sleeping bags.”
Wow, man!
“Cornhole, acoustic guitar and lots of bears.”
Okay, I’m sold!
Well, I’m not quite sold, yet. Three 5 mile trail laps is a tall order for a man fresh off chicken knee syndrome.
I’m gonna kick the tires and see if I can get some more teams involved. It’s lonely on that trail and Purple Quail is afraid of the dark.