Sanuk D

I don't know what I'm doing here, I should be someplace else.

It takes an hour in the mornings.  No matter what I tell myself, it takes an hour.  That means if I wake up or — more to the point — get up 30 minutes late on a Saturday, I will be 30 minutes late getting out for my run.  There is no getting up 30 minutes late and being ready in 30 minutes.  Part of me rebels at the very idea that I could be late for anything at 6:00 on a Saturday morning.  So I drag my feet, and it takes an hour.

Once I got going, of course, everything was fine.  My new shoes are like the old shoes were when they were new, which is to say they felt like they should feel but the thrill of new shoes is gone.  Sort of like … well, never mind.  So anyway, I was out the door and down the road for a minute or two before I realized that I had forgotten to start my watch.  No biggie.  The point of the watch is to keep me honest, not to torture me with times to meet.  Just so long as I am not slacking.

I followed my usual long run route as the sun began to rise, an orange disk in a silver sky.  It seemed only able to define it’s own presence.  The surrounding sky and the river below held the sense of night, only illuminated.  I ran through Groovemont and out towards the quarry making spectacular time until the delayed start got figured in.  At the Tabernacle, where it seems my Great Uncle once preached, I turned right instead of going straight.  Descending through a graveyard, I dipped and then rose to pass the retirement home on one side and the rehab on the other.

The rehabituates appeared to want my attention, to which they are welcome if they truly want to stay sober.  I suspect they want to yell at a runner because what else to they have to do to liven up the morning.  I did not stop.  Instead, I made it to another bone yard, this one dedicated to our fallen vets.  It’s a nice spot, and a good turn around.  Again past the retirees and parolees, most of whom had gone inside, and up through the church yard to the Tabernacle.

As I headed home, Ra’s power began to effect the air but only in pockets.  I would run through spots as wet and warm as a lung only to emerge into the nocturnal cool again.  This battle will continue for weeks, but the cool will prevail.  I believe the worst of the heat to be over, and I am grateful not to have sat this summer out.  Most years, I reach this stage having squandered the summer in lackadaisical efforts at training.  I have reached this fall with a good number of miles in the bank.  Today’s run was a draft on that account that will not bounce.

There are probably 10 independent bicycle shops in the greater Altamont area.  Let us count them:

1. Liberty
2. Pro Bikes
3. Hearns
4. BioWheels
5. Carolina Fatz
6. Youngblood
7. Epic
8. Motion Makers
9. Ski Country

I feel like I am leaving one out, but maybe not.  Who can keep track?  What’s up with all the bike shops?  They seem to have all kept going despite the presence of a Dick’s and an REI, not to mention Wal-Mart etc., etc.  So given all those independent bike shops, you’d think we might have more than two independent running stores.  Right now, not so much.  There are only two.  I shop mostly at the first one, Jus’ Running, up north.  Mostly because I am closer to it but also because they have gotten to know me.

Yesterday, though, I was way down in Southie and in need of shoes, so I stopped by the other store, Foot Rx.  To be fair, I have been in that store before but mostly to like drop off race brochures and stuff.  I don’t think I have ever bought anything there.  They don’t know me from Adam.  They had a sort of funny reaction when I said, “Asics 2150, 11 1/2 please.”  “Do you want to try these on?” the salesman wanted to know.  “No, thanks,” sez I.

See, despite the fact that shoe makers change things around every 6 months just to mess with my head, I’ve managed to settle on these for the last 6 or 7 years.  Actually, I started with the 2110’s and moved along as they “upgraded.”  I can’t say that I can tell the difference between the upgrades, but then I liked the shoes pretty well from the get go.  That’s obvious.  The one thing I can tell is if the shoes are old (because I have worn them too long) or stale (because they were on the shelves of the online retailer too long.)  Yes, shoes get stale.  Or maybe I have OCD.  Ok, I have OCD.

But shoes do get stale.  That’s one of the reasons I buy them from a store.  Plus, it’s good to support the local economy and all.  Most of all I like to freak out sales people by buying a pair of shoes in less than 3 minutes.  Once I explain that I have owned 2 or 3 dozen pair they start to understand.  And I feel totally hard core.

In our last episode, we heard about how Zonker nearly lost his brains on the ground.  Wear your helmets, kiddies!  So here comes the second installment, with the stirring story of how one recovers from a traumatic brain injury.  Actually, as the podcast will esplain, there is not a clear way to know how the recovery will go.  In this case, it seems to have involved a little bit of George Michael (You gotta have faith) with a whole lot of Buddy Holly via the Grateful Dead (Not Fade Away.)  Come on in and check us out.

So, yesterday it seemed like such a good idea.  I was all giddy with the possibilities, and I went with it.  You know how this story goes, don’t you?  Morning regrets.  Walks of shame.  Maybe a typical Thursday for @michaelfmuller, but I continue to grasp at gossamer threads of dignity.  Why, then, did I go ahead and sign up for another marathon?  Didn’t I do my marathon for the year?  Yes, but having trained for one in the first half of the year means I still have time for another round of training.  I feel so ashamed.  What to do other than begin the training plan again.

“So what, exactly, is the plan Sanuk D?” you may be thinking to yourself.  Good question.  The first time I did a marathon I used a plan laid out by the venerable Hal Higdon.   Venerable because he is old, not because he is an Archdeacon.  I am not an Archdeacon, but I do like to take the Sabbath off from running.  So I stuck close to the plan except I ran a long run on Saturday instead of Sunday.   It was very good because I had never run a marathon, and I had no idea what to do and here was this thing that said “here, do this!”  So I did that and it worked out, mostly because I had some confidence in the plan.

So, the next couple of marathons I sort of did the Higdon plan, meaning that I did the long runs and sort of did the runs during the week.  This approach was not quite as successful.   In fact, the marathons — especially the second one — sucked.  Running marathons is not really healthy, I don’t think.  I mean, it’s healthier than not exercising, but it does do damage to the body.  The point of the experience ought to be something other than health.  Like fun. For me, runs around the 16 mile length are fun.  Lots of +20 mile runs are not fun.   Weeks that have a lot of < 5 mile runs bum me out too.  I get moody.

So, this last time I did a modified modified Higdon plan.   I ran 30 – 35 miles most work weeks and spread that out fairly evenly across the days. 6 weeks or so out, I ramped that up to around 35-40 miles for a few weeks.  On Saturdays, I ran increasingly longer runs working up to a 20 miler 3 weeks out.   My longest week was somewhere around 55 miles.  After that, I ran an 18 miler and a 16 miler and went back down to about 25-30 miles during the week.   The week before the marathon I ran about 20 miles total.  That’s all approximate.

So basically, the idea of building up mileage and then tapering seems to work, except that I have a relatively slow metabolism.  I need to give myself plenty of time to ramp up and not taper off too far.  Plus, this is supposed to be fun, right?  Ok, it’s a bad way to have fun but still.   I want to run enough for what is good for me mentally and what will allow me to have some fun when I go out.  I have heard that the Hanson Brothers have a plan that is essentially longer runs during the week and a shorter long run.  Whatever.  Running around like a loon sounds good to me as long as the total miles per week add up.  Given how the most recent race turned out, I’m willing to give this a shot again.

They were glistening with sweat before they ever took a step.  Some of them had actually been warming up, but even a walk from the car to the registration table would have caused a person to bust out the perspiration.  It’s hot in the Land of the Sky friends.  The Suwaree laugh at us from on high.  ”That’s what you get, you land stealing, tree cutting bastards!” they seem to say.  We cannot respond in any rational way.  So we go out and run around in circles.

Among those warming up was @wordnrrrd (I think it has 3 r’s in it).  It’s a wonderful thing about Twitter, that you get to meet new people.  Unless you don’t like meeting new people.  In which case Twitter may not be for you.  Nevertheless, meeting new people is a wonderful thing, and it was nice to wish a new friend good luck in his first race.  Either there or at the one mile mark I also saw an old friend.  Old in the sense that we have known each other for at least ten years.  Also old in the sense that he retired from his chosen profession after  50 years of service.  Any way you cut it, that makes you aged at least, but it’s pretty likely you’re old.

My old friend had not been running in other races recently.  I was a bit afraid he had stopped running all together.  It would be hard if he did stop racing because his is a face I expect to see at local races.  His presence makes me feel at home.  And in turn, I want to make other people feel at home.  Like my new friend, who ran well and look like he was having a good time doing it.  Which is a good thing because otherwise running in the sticky hot weather is stupid.  It only works if we get to do it together.