15 May 2012 02:46am UTC
★ ★
Two weeks from today is the Bolder Boulder race for which I've been training for almost a year now. When I picture myself on the starting line,
...standing there in my lightweight racing shoes, wearing my new racing singlet (running lingo for "tank top"), hand on my stop watch ready to push the button, listening to the countdown, "5!", "4!", "3!", surrounded by all the other faster, stronger real runners in my wave, waiting for the gun to go off...
it makes my heart take a leap for my stomach and stay there for a minute or two. Seriously, I am going to be a complete mess all of the last weekend before, if not all of next week.
We just picked up our race packets, here's me in my new shirt:
So, the race is looming big and becoming very real. I wasn't kidding above, I really do have a mini heart attack every time I think about it.
These last couple races, in those last few seconds before the race starts and everyone takes off at a breakneck speed, I've been filled not with excitement or hope or nervousness but complete dread and dispair. I think, why am I doing this again? I think, I don't want to do this. I think about how nice and comfortable it would be to just walk to the finish line. I get that same feeling of hopelessness that I get when I'm about to start a homework or work assignment a week too late. I know what I have to do, and I know that I won't be able to stop until I'm done. And boy am I not looking forward to it. I think, I wish I was anywhere but here.
But then the gun goes off, you start running, and all those thoughts disappear. It isn't about whether what I'm doing is fun or where I'd rather be, it is all about my pace. Am I too fast? Am I too slow? Can I maintain this? Despair and hopelessness are gone and all that is left is determination. I'm going until I hit that finish line. Well, at least I hope that's how I feel! If I don't feel that way then that means I'm really hurting. I hope that's how the Bolder Boulder goes.
My ambitious goal is 37 minutes and 18 seconds. That would be 6 minutes per mile.
I have different levels of goals, so that way I have back up goals in case I miss the ambitious ones. I've been talking about aiming for a 38:00 even, which itself would be incredible, but I'd be lying if I didn't say what I was really hoping for. So, my big goal is 37:18, my less ambitious goal is 38:00 even and my (hopefully!) safe goal is 40:00. And if all those fail, I at least want a personal record, which would be 41:26. If I meet none of those I will be pretty unbelievably let down.
As far as training has gone, I feel fairly confident saying that I am currently in better running shape than most people I know. I'm at least running more than anyone I know (well, except for my brother-in-law who I've been training with, we're getting basically the same amount of miles in these days). I say this not to brag, or pretend that I'm a better Human Being than anyone else. I more say this to show how much I have invested in this race. This month I've averaged between 8 and 9 miles of running a day (with Thursdays off). That's probably a little less than an hour and a half, on average, of running most days and that doesn't include travel time, stretching, PT exercises and icing. Can you think of the last thing you devoted that much of your free time to? I can't think of anything besides programming but that requires a lot less energy and that hasn't been in years. Then not only am I getting in a lot of miles, I've been running 2+ track workouts a week. If I do have friends out there that are running more, I'd like to congratulate them! Because basically I'm running myself silly.
And now with two weeks to go, I find myself with nagging foot pain and nagging shin pain. With one more week of hard training left, I'm wondering if I have pushed myself too hard. If I'm on the verge of "breaking down".
So, I think that question I ask myself on the start line, "why do I do this?", is a pretty darn good question.
And I think there are two answers.
The first answer is the feeling I get 5 minutes after I've completed a race. After I've started breathing normally again, the tunnel vision has gone away, and my stomach has returned to normal. Even if I didn't do as well as I hoped, I get this immense feeling of satisfaction from having tried as hard as I possibly could. Hell, even in those last few seconds of a race, when you are 30 seconds into your kick, your lungs and muscles are dying, and all you can see is the finish line a hundred meters away, and you try and take your effort up a notch, to a place you didn't even know you had, that feeling right then. That's why I like to race. It isn't about the results (though those can sure be fun sometimes), it is about laying it all on the line. It is about pushing my limit higher, one step at a time.
The second answer is that running and training and racing, give a purpose to my life. They give me goals and something to work towards. I run and I train and I race (and yes I realize that this is weirdly circular) so that I can continue to run and train and race. Yes, the goals are arbitrary. Am I training to run in the Olympics or represent my school or prove something about what humans are capable of? No. No, my goals are purely about proving to myself that I can do what I set out to do, or fail trying. And I'm happier when I have goals like that.
So, with two weeks to go, I'm feeling nervous, and worried, and stressed out, and tired, but in the end hopeful.
But even if I don't meet my goals, all this running has most certainly been worth it. The trials of miles, and miles of trials. Like I said a few months ago, I just feel more alive when I'm running.
7 May 2012 04:50pm UTC
★ ★ ★
Now, I'm sure most of you know that I'm not a big drinker. I'm pretty sure I can count the number of times I've imbibed in the last 5 years on one hand (and only one of those times did I really imbibe, thanks Ben's bachelor party). So needless to say, being "hungover" is not something I know much about.
However, I know of a different sort of hangover that I am very familiar with! And that's the staying up late and watching TV shows hangover! It has happened to me many times over the years, where you're just getting ready to go to sleep and you figure, oh I'll just watch one episode. And then the next thing you know it is five ours later and you are still awake and you still have two more episodes to go to finish the season and even though you have to wake up for work in two hours, you're already up this late so you might as well finish, so you go for it. And then after your 30 minutes of sleep you wake up and you have a headache and your body aches and you have to get to work. But all you really want to do is start the next season of the show.
That kind of hangover sucks, but the night before is so good, it is often unavoidable! And yes I realize this isn't a real hangover and that it is just sleep deprivation, but let me have my fun!
So, yesterday morningish I went on a 13 mile run with my brother-in-law and was completely beat for the rest of the day. All I wanted to do was take a nap but I had too much to do. Well, mainly one big project to do which was figure out what food I am taking on a backpacking trip this summer and see if it packs down small enough (because if it doesn't my father and I might have to change our plan). So when midnight rolled around I was very, very tired, but Keri wanted to watch just one episode of Friday Night Lights (amazing show, I'm not kidding!). And that turned it to two and then three and then four.
So, yeah, totally hungover this morning.
27 April 2012 09:19pm UTC
★ ★
So, this last week while I was on my "business trip" I had two different experiences where whistling was not only a fun skill, but a useful one!
On the second or third day of my trip (shortly after I wrote my last post) I was in the bathroom drying myself off after an absolutely amazing shower (seriously, those rain drop shower heads are incredible. I could stay under those things forever. I wish I was still under the one from last week!), when someone opened the door to the bathroom not realizing I was in there. Now this is one of those things that happens in life, and isn't too big of a deal. Your roommate or your friend or members of your wife's family see you naked: NBD. But this wasn't my roommate or my friend or members of my wife's family! This was my boss/client/business associate/someone you don't want seeing you naked!
So, yeah, my boss has seen my penis.
At least I think it was my boss, I was too busy trying to pull the towel around from my backside to my front side to pay attention to whose head showed up in the door way. But the apology that came after the door closed sounded like my boss.
Now, here's the deal, if I had been whistling this never would have happened! He would have come down to the bathroom door, heard the sweet melodious sounds I was making, and then turned around and wandered off to find another place to do his business. But because I was silent he didn't know anyone was in there.
Now you might wonder why I didn't just bother to lock the door. Which I guess would have made sense, but I've always felt weird about locking the bathroom door. It seems like such a distrustful, accusing act. The only time I lock the door is when I'm home alone. And that's because bathrooms are scary and being home alone is scary and when you combine the two, it is time to lock the doors!
Anyway, for the rest of the week I made sure to whistle while I was in the bathroom.
Then this last Sunday, my second to last day in California, I was running in this state preserve near the house we were staying at when I came across two people having sex on a bench in a remote corner of the park!!!
Yeah, I know!
Unfortunately, I didn't see them in the actual act, but I saw two people without pants on, and one of them running for cover. Read my RunKeeper description of it for the full details, in case you are doubtful.
Now, little did I know that about 100 yards after I saw them, the trail dead ended in the middle of a forest that was absolutely covered, covered in poison oak (I was very proud of myself when I correctly identified it in front of a ranger earlier!). And I certainly wasn't going to let two people sharing their love together in the woods interfere with my run, so I had to keep running and there was only one way to go: back to the couple. But I didn't want to catch them unawares again.
So I whistled the whole 100 yards I ran back to them. I guess my presence was a bit of a buzz kill because when I caught back up with them they were both clothed and walking down the trail. I gave them an awkward "have a nice day" and got out of there as quickly as possible!
And there you have it! Two good reasons to learn how to whistle!
20 April 2012 06:01am UTC
★ ★ ★ ★
So, I think it is no secret that I'm a refined eater and shall we say, particular about the foods I eat. I.e. I'm a "picky eater". Now this is something that tends to get you a lot of negative attention from the world, so it is something I try to keep to myself. I don't tell people (and in particular I am referring to people I don't know very well) that I don't like this or don't like that, I just say "no thank you" to the foods I don't like and "yes please and can I have some more" to the foods I do like. However, people usually want to know why you aren't eating the food they are offering you, so it usually ends up coming out, that, no, I don't like this and that and that and that and that and that. Oh and that too.
So, on this "business trip" I'm currently on (what do I call this trip? it is for my job but I'm not in the business of business... hmmm...), I wanted to avoid the inevitable onslaught of questions and attention and when I was asked why I was getting a just turkey sandwich, I replied, "I don't like vegetables so I'm getting just the meat." I figured people could relate to that, maybe.
But this has now gotten me lots of attention as the guy who really likes meat. And they think all I order and eat is meat. "Hey! There's Ben! He loves meat!"
Now does that sound like me to you?
12 April 2012 06:17am UTC
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
I have to tell you all, Titanic was one hell of a movie. It really is too bad that it was so successful because then it wouldn't have such a bad reputation. Sure it has flaws, but overall, it is the best movie in its genre: Bigger than life adventure romance. Couple that with the fact that with the exception of the central romance, the whole story is real? Well, that's just gripping stuff! It is the kind of movie that is worth paying the ridiculously too high theater prices to see.
I remember going to see it for the first time on December 27th, 1997 with my dad. I was pretty blown away. So much so that I went and saw it again in theaters with my mom. And even after that I was considering asking a girl at school (a redhead named Kristen) to go see it with me. That is until I heard her and some friends discussing how lame it was (or maybe it was just some friends, the details are fuzzy now). And then suddenly it was very uncool to like Titanic.
Then when Titanic went on to make more money than Star Wars, which was my obsession at the time, well, that just wouldn't do. So I, too, disliked the movie for a few years there.
At some point my freshman year of college I decided I would stop being embarrassed about who I was and what I liked, and so when sophomore year a resident of mine talked about loving the movie (maybe she had a poster on her wall that we were discussing?) I was ready to admit that I too loved the movie. And it was good that I did, because that was something for that young resident, my future wife, and me to bond over! Who knows, maybe that single conversation set the seeds of love that 5 years later would sprout!
This week marks the 100th anniversary of the actual setting sail and then sinking of the ship. And while that is interesting, today is the actual anniversary of the birth of my aforementioned wife (Keri is her name if you didn't know!). And that is much more interesting!
So, happy birthday, Keri! I am glad that we can share in being obsessed with our obsessions together!
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