Sunday Wrap Up: Might Even Grow Me a Fu Manchu

I was honestly worried I'd get pulled over on the drive back from Lake Waramaug today because I was high on running.  The weather was perfect (and not snowing), the course was beautiful, I ran a really solid race and ended up placing 5th, and I drove home to the sounds of Travis Tritt, who sings my theme song.  (Assuming he also sings that "Call Me Maybe" song.)


I'll do a full race report next week, but I shall first take this opportunity to fawn over myself.  I'm really proud of my 4:17 50k (and 3:34 marathon split - 16 minutes faster than my actual marathon 13 days ago...), and feel like I was able to salvage my training after a disappointing Boston.  While you're waiting for all the details, here is a picture of me, being extremely happy, post-race:

Not to be confused with me, being moderately happy and significantly tired, pre-race:

1. Yes, I did change my clothes after I ran and showered.  I just happened to put on another white tank top and pair of black tights.


2. Yes, I did take self-portraits in my room in my parents' house.  The first one was taken at 4:55am, so I wasn't going to wake anyone up to take it for me, and since I'd already set the precedent, I decided to use the same format for the post-race photo.


3. Yes, I abuse the thumbs up in photos.  I never really know what else to do with my arms.


Number of Miles Run This Week: 46.  After the race, a man came up to me at the food tent, where I was housing hot dogs (obviously), and said "I've run 48 marathons."  No name or other introductory remarks.  Just that.  He went on to ask, "How many miles a week do you run?" which is a weird question for a runner to ask another runner, because obviously you're not running the same number year round.  I went with 50.  So I hope he's not reading this now and judging me for coming up short.


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 11 so far.  I aim to increase this immediately.  It's 4:29 somewhere!


Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Beyond the Bud Lights, I went out with Brad one night this week to the Stag's Head, where we sampled a great many delicious beers.  Naturally, I forget almost all  of them, but the most memorable of the evening was the Maine Beer Company's Maine Peeper Ale.  This beer was UNREAL.  So, so good.  Grassy, citrusy, and awesome.  If you can get your hands on it, do so immediately.  I don't mean to be dramatic here, but this might be the best beer I've ever had.


Also, I'm high on endorphins and can't really be trusted to give an honest opinion.

Pre-Race Feast: Italian Baked Mac and Sleaze

I don't cook.  I've used the oven in my current apartment exactly one time, and it was to heat up those break-and-bake chocolate chip cookies.  And usually I buy that stuff and eat it raw.


It's not that I don't like to cook; I actually find it to be a really fun project, alone or with others.  But I live in a small apartment with crappy, hand-me-down utensils and so I spend most of my food budget as an individual on toast with peanut butter, cous cous (five minutes on the stove; doesn't count as cooking), toaster oven pizza, and delivery.  When I'm with other people, they are generally much better chefs than me, so mostly I manage clean-up.  And drinking.


Anyway, because I do enjoy cooking, I was excited to head out to Connecticut this afternoon, where I'd have access to my parents' fancy suburban kitchen with its Pyrex this and Le Creuset that.  And also, where all the groceries are already paid for!  I knew I wanted to whip up some kind of pasta feast ahead of tomorrow's 50k, and that I didn't want it to be something I could actually tackle in my Brooklynese kitchen if I were ever highly motivated to prepare mid-week home cooked meals that require anything beyond the microwave (which I will never be).  I settled on Italian Baked Mac and Sleaze!


Now naturally, because I seldom cook, recipe development isn't my forte; I can figure out what flavors might work together, given my 28 years of experience as an eater, but not always what proportions of ingredients to use.  Thank God for those aforementioned friends who are much better chefs than I.  Tonight I was inspired by Erica's Pumpkin Sage Mac and Cheese.


I knew this would be good because I've actually made it, in its original form, a few times before (again, in Connecticut, where there is enough counter space for both the pasta pot and the casserole dish this requires).  It's a delicious feast for a post-long run Sunday night, and it's super easy - no roux or béchamel or any of those other fancy things.  Cook pasta, mix it with milk and cheese and other stuff, bake it in the oven, and eat it.  I figured with some seasonally appropriate tweaks to the "other stuff," it might also work as a solid pre-race fuel.

E's original recipe:
Pumpkin Sage Mac n Cheese
Serves 4 
8 oz Pasta, whichever shape makes you happy
1 cup Canned Pumpkin
1/4 cup Milk (I used Almond Milk because it's what I had)
2 cups Shredded Cheese (I used a combo of Asiago, Mozzarella, and Parmesan. Cheddar or Goat Cheese would also be fantastic)
5 large Sage leaves, cut into chiffonade
Salt and Pepper to taste
1/2 cup Bread Crumbs

Cook your pasta according to the package directions, but remove from the water about 2 minutes before it's done, until not quite al dente.
Preheat oven to 400 F.
In the meantime, in a large bowl, combine the pumpkin, milk, shredded cheese and sage leaves. Season with salt and pepper. When the pasta is cooked, toss into the pumpkin and cheese mixture and mix well.
Spoon the pasta into a small casserole dish and cover with the breadcrumbs. Place in your preheated oven and bake approximately 20-30 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the breadcrumbs are toasted and browned.

I nixed the pumpkin, but threw in a handful of cherry tomatoes, halved, because I haven't eaten any vegetables since Tuesday.  I used about a cup and a half of shredded mozzarella and a quarter cup each parmesan and goat cheese.  I didn't use any sage because that wasn't a choice in my parents' pantry and I don't know what chiffonade means, but probably if I had found any basil, that would have been good.  And I topped it with Italian breadcrumbs, because I used mozzarella and tomatoes, and duh, that makes anything "Italian."   

Oh, I also didn't use any salt and pepper because I forgot and only just remembered as I put the damn thing in the oven and sat down to type this up.  Shit.

Anyway, this is what it looked like before it went into the oven.

I expect it'll look like that, but browner, when it comes out.  Unless I get distracted watching TV and forget about it.

Here's hoping this is a perfect pre-race feast.  If it's not, I'm blaming you, Erica.

More Weather Fun

An excerpt from an email from the race director of Sunday's 50k (the subject of which was simply "JBLWUM." I have absolutely no idea what that acronym stands for):

The weather is still too early to be reliable.  Last evening’s forecast called for a low near 37 and a high near 55. They also say tha it will be “breezy”, possibly rainy and possibly some snow. Wouldn’t have it any other way. Please bring your fleece lined long johns, arctic raincoats and some warm weather gear as well. All kidding aside, the lake can get quite chilly (that means cold in CT speak)if the wind picks up and the rains come in. Do come prepared for about anything the weather can bring.

Emphasis my own, because are you shitting me?!  It snowed a whopping one time this winter (and one time this fall...), and I ran on the treadmill that day.  I couldn't be less prepared for snow if I'd just run a marathon in 90-degree weather.  

Oh.

WRFB in PDX

What has two pint-grasping hands and is headed to the Cascade hops capital of the world?  This guy!


There's another hand for pint-grasping under that foam finger.




That's right; I'm headed west.  Pacific northerly-west, in fact.  This Brooklynite (shudder; I am so not a Brooklynite...) is headed to the Brooklyn of the Pacific Northwest: Portland, Oregon!

Don't worry; it's only temporary.  But for 4 glorious days next month, I'll be in a beer-drinking marathoner's paradise.  Beer Advocate lists 25 breweries within Portland city limits, and the Nike Oregon Project has at least that many elite, bad ass runners under its tutelage.  Beers will be drunk; miles will be run; mountains will be hiked; birds will be put on it; Kara Goucher will be stalked; future brothers-in-law will reconsider marrying into the family.  A good time will be had by all!

From Portland?  Been there?  Take to the comments to suggest what I should drink and where I should run.  In the meantime, I'll be busy growing out my beard.

Sunday Wrap Up: Welcome Back

Ahh yes.  The triumphant return to drinking began in earnest this week.  It started with two beers and an early bedtime on Monday after the marathon and ended with staying out until 3:30am and waking up in a tuxedo t-shirt, naked from the waist down this morning.  I'm baaaaack!


As it were, I'm back to running as well; somehow, between all the alcohol, I found time to go for my first post-marathon recovery run on Thursday.  5-ish easy paced miles with Abbe (which ended at a bar...)  By Saturday, my legs were feeling good as new!  Unfortunately I didn't use them for running on Saturday, and instead put on running clothes and then apartment hunted, brunched, drank mimosas, and napped while clad in capri tights and a hot pink sports bra.


But today, despite the hangover and the lack of pants, I was back at it.  Another 5 miles, in the pouring rain, in Prospect Park.  I thought about a lot of things, because being hungover makes me introspective, and running alone in torrential rain seems like a suitably serious occasion to get some good thinking done.  It's pretty amazing what running can do for your mental health.  Really helps with the hangovers, too.


My friend Erica Sara is also good for my mental health (and is in part responsible for today's hangover), and she did something for me yesterday that was actually the impetus for my deep thoughts on the run today.  ES is very talented (and very beautiful) jewelry designer (and bad ass marathoner in her own right), and treated me to a wonderful, thoughtful and generous surprise yesterday:

A monogrammed necklace, with all my marathon times engraved on the back.  In Erica's own words:

I wanted to make something special that she could wear as a constant reminder of how amazing she is. So I made her this necklace, engraved with her monogram on the front and all of her marathon times on the back, sort of like her incredible journey thus far. One of my best moments last night was seeing the look on her face when she opened the box. It's why I love what I do and am so grateful to be able to do it.

It's true; I got a little teary when I opened the box.  This necklace is a reminder of what I love, and of the work I'm willing to put into doing what I love.  But it is also a reminder of just how lucky I am to have such selfless and caring and supportive people in my life.  Thank you, Erica, from the bottom of my heart.


Number of Miles Run This Week: 37 - the Monday marathon really bumps up the weekly mileage.


Number of Beers Consumed This Week:  To the best of my recollection, 22.  Let the record show, we also had 6 bottles of wine with dinner last night.


Types of Beers Consumed This Week:  Long Trail IPA, Stella, Sam Adams Boston Lager, Victory Hopdevil, Victory Headwaters Pale Ale, Victory St. Victorious (The Gate in Park Slope had a Victory tasting this week), Hennepin, Captain Lawrence Pale Ale, PBR, and Bud Light.  Whew!


Next up: Lake Waramaug 50k on Sunday.  My second ultra, and first 50k.  I should probably not drink 22 beers again this week...

Boston: Now and Then

Shortly after I hit "Publish" on my Boston race report, I received an email from the BAA congratulating me on my finish.  In it were included some statistics regarding how my 3:50:30 stacked up against the rest of the field.  I decided to look back at the same stats for the 2011 Boston Marathon, where I ran 16 minutes and 57 seconds faster, to see how they compared:


2011:
Overall place: 8723 out of 23,913 finishers
Gender place: 1834 out of 10,074 finishers
Age group place (18-34): 1369 out of 5200 finishers


2012:
Overall place: 6503 out of 21,554 finishers
Gender place: 1543 out of 8966 finishers
AG place: 1152 our of 4580 finishers


At first I was excited to see I moved up in place in each category, because I am not great at math and didn't realize I wasn't comparing apples to apples given the disparate field sizes.  But some quick Googling to figure out how to do that revealed the following:

• In 2011, I was in the top 36.5% of all finishers.  In 2012, I was in the top 30%.
• In 2011, I was among the top 18% of women.  In 2012, top 17%.
• In 2011, I was in the top 26% of my AG.  In 2012, top 25%.

A couple things worth noting, in part because I think they are interesting and in part because they make me feel better about the shit show in which I participated on Monday.  First, let me reiterate that I ran 17 minutes slower this year than last year.  That's a lot of minutes, even in a marathon.  That my gender and AG performances over the two years were comparable shows that all the other ladies, 18-34 and otherwise, suffered proportionally (at least I think that's what it shows.  Again, math isn't my my forte).  Not that I'm happy that people uniformly had slow races, but I do take some comfort in knowing that, generally speaking, I blew up to the same degree other people blew up, or that others consistently ran dramatically slower than usual to avoid that blow up. 


I also think it's interesting to see that compared to the whole of the field, my performance in 2012 was better.  Ipso facto, heat impacts dudes worse than ladies, because you're all wimps.  You can't question math!

Race Report: Boston Marathon

I'm going to tell you a secret that makes me look immature and conceited, but then I'll also include some pictures that make me look skinny in the hopes that your opinion of me doesn't change: when I wrote on Sunday night of my revised goals for the race, I still thought I'd run a 3:20 and then come back here and be all "that was hard, but if you trust your training, you can do it."

Instead I ran a 3:50 and honest to God considered dropping out. Of the Boston Marathon.

Lest you be wondering if the heat was really that big a deal, it was. Survivable, certainly, but not raceable.

But we'll get there (or you can skip ahead to the end if that's what you're interested in). First, some logistical things to mention, in case you are considering running the Boston Marathon. For the record, I am not. Ever again. And I know I said that last year, but this time I'm serious.

For the past several years, I've stayed out in Milford, MA, by the start. This is awesome on race morning, because you don't have to wake up early, and the hotels out there offer their own free shuttles to the start. This year I stayed at the Courtyard, which gave us marathoners a little welcome bag when we checked in, with water and an apple and a granola bar and some fun facts about the marathon. It was like going to a wedding, except I didn't get drunk or make out with someone who turned out to be related to me.

The only glitch with staying out there is that it really requires two cars: one to leave in Boston to get back after the race, and one to drive you out there on Sunday night. Or, one car and one very generous friend who will drive you back and forth to a hotel 40 minutes outside of the city. Caroline is generous, but I didn't want to push my luck, so I ended up driving to her apartment in Southie, leaving my car there on Sunday, having a pasta feast with her, hitching a ride with her to the hotel Sunday night, and then taking the T back to her place after the race to get my car. Writing all that out makes me realize it's not worth the logistical hassle just to get a few more hours sleep on race morning, but if that matters to you, know that it is a possibility.



The hotel also offered plenty of floor space in which I could lay out my bib person.

Despite having the opportunity to sleep in on Monday morning, I didn't really. But I did have a leisurely breakfast, drink some coffee, and watch the weather forecast with increasing alarm.


But I tried not to let it bother me, and instead took self portraits in the bathroom mirror:



And also photographed my breakfast on the balcony, with Lowe's in the background:



Because this is what one does with nervous race morning energy. Well, this and go to the bathroom 400 times.

Anyway, I eventually made my way to the Fairfield Inn across the street, which was taking me to Hopkinton since my own hotel shuttle was fully booked. The process was painless, and while I was worried about not leaving until 9am, the timing couldn't have been better. I arrived in Hopkinton, walked the three-quarters of a mile to the Athlete Village (stopping to chat with Eissa on the way, until a cop suggested we get out of the way as "it's kind of busy out here"), got on line for bag drop, deposited my gear, walked three-quarters of a mile back to the start corrals while beginning to sweat heavily, and entered the Wave 2, Corral 2 start about 2 minutes before the gun went off. I hardly had any time to think about what I was getting myself into before I crossed the mat. The only drawback was that I had no time to do any pre-race MadLibs.

As I said, I was secretly expecting that I'd go out there and run a PR and then humble-brag about it, but pretty much from the start, I realized that was foolish and unlikely. I couldn't believe how hot it was through the first mile, and there was no shade and no breeze. While I ultimately decided not to wear my 3:20 pace bracelet, I still thought maybe a Boston PR was in the cards, and aimed to keep my splits between 7:45 and 8:00 (8:00/mile being a 3:30 marathon).

I was pleasantly surprised that the first five miles or so weren't nearly as bad as I remembered. Last year, I came away saying "so many rolling hills!" but this year, I thought "oh, this isn't so bad!" I ran my first mile faster than I did last year. Instead of thinking "no! Claire it is 30 degrees hotter this year than it was last year!" I thought "well I'm off to a good start!"

Miles 1-5: 7:57, 7:49, 8:08, 7:50, 8:04.

I passed the five mile marker a hair under 40 minutes, but even by then, was suffering. I stopped to pee at mile 6 and was comforted that I had consumed enough liquids for that to be necessary, but I was also no longer sweating, which was a serious concern. I had 20 long, hot miles to go. I had been taking water and Gatorade at every opportunity, but was hot and thirsty again almost immediately after I swallowed (that's what she said). Though not hungry, I took at Gu at 8.5 and hoped it would keep my legs moving at a reasonable pace. I decided to break the race up mentally into 2 ten milers and a 10k. My goal became "get to mile 10 and reassess."

Thankfully, I knew I had family friends in Natick, just before the 10 mile mark, so knowing I'd be rewarded with a visit with them propelled me forward. Seeing them lifted my spirits a ton, so much so that when they called my parents after I left them, they reported I looked great. I did not feel great. I felt hot.



To clarify, that's hot in the temperature sense, not the physical appearance sense. I felt like a praying mantis in the physical appearance sense, as pictured above.

I asked Mike and Andy, seasoned marathoners themselves, if they had any words of wisdom. "SLOW DOWN!" They weren't the only ones who offered that advice; all along the course, digital road signs cautioned us "HOT! SLOW PACE! HYDRATE!"

Miles 6-10: 8:45 (with the pee break), 8:08, 8:10, 8:16, 8:50 (reunion with the Crowes).

When I got to the 10 mile mark I decided to further reduce my goal, and aim for a 3:40. I wish I could say that, each time I reduced the pressure on myself, I was able to enjoy myself, but I was not. True, I slapped so many high fives in Wellesley that my arm was tired when we finally passed all the crowds, and I had a huge smile on my face that entire mile, it was also the only shaded mile on the course. I began finding things to look forward to, to break the race into even smaller increments. Susan at mile 14 was my next goal, and I stopped with her for a hug. And lingered longer than I should have, which was probably a good indicator that the end was near for me.

Miles 11-15: 8:13, 8:19, 8:32 (Wellesley girls), 8:20 (hi Susan!), 8:39 (anddddd, scene)

My next goal was to get to mile 16 and the start of the Newton hills. From there, it really became more of a death march than anything else (déjà vu - this was the beginning of the end for me last year too). I kept my head down and kept climbing, running through every misting station and hose I could find and counting not the hills, as I did last year, but the miles until 21, when I knew they'd be over. I put one foot in front of the other and focused on avoiding a trip to the medical tent. Gatorade was almost impossible for me to keep down at this point, so I tried to drink whatever I could get down. Like beer.

At mile 20, I found Alett and the Hash House Harriers. I weaved across the street for a high five, grabbed a beer, and pounded it down to raucous cheers. Time for Heartbreak Hill.

Miles 16-20: 8:39, 8:58, 9:28 (kill yourself), 9:13, 9:37 (cheers! But still, kill yourself).

So here's a fun fact: since last year, Heartbreak Hill has been repaved. It's that brand new, very very black asphalt now. It was basically like running up a frying pan. Also, lots of spectators were out with hoses and water and oranges and ice pops, which was amazing - thank you. Still others were offering sponges, which feel so good to wipe down with or stash under your hat. But spectators - please don't offer us sponges with the dish scrubbing pad on one side. Exfoliation took a back seat to other race day priorities. Like not passing out.

So did the Newton Hills beat me again this year? Can you read those splits posted above? Absolutely. But strangely, they didn't seem as markedly bad as last year. Perhaps because the whole race was so hard, whereas last year, they were a dark mark on an otherwise enjoyable course. Either way, I ran through them all, and I'll take what I can get.

When I got to the top of Heartbreak, I knew I was almost done. 5 more miles. And yet, I really didn't know if I had 5 miles in me. The hardest part was over, yes, but was it even worth it to keep going? My splits were on the wrong side of 9:00 - and I was inching towards paces a full minute per mile slower than my long runs. Plus I still wasn't sweating and was growing increasingly concerned about my coordination. If only all these BC boys would stop yelling at me, I could think about what I need to do to be safe and done running...

Also, BC boys, "you look so fucking sexy right now!" is an astounding cheer. Spot on. Kudos to you, and thank you. But smoking cigars while you're cheering earns you demerits, especially when there is no breeze to get your cigar smoke out of my already restricted breathing space.

So there I was, choking on cigar smoke 5 miles from the finish line, shuffling along at a pace I haven't seen in literally years, considering dropping out of the Boston Marathon. "Your friends are at 24. Go to 24."





If I'd had any liquid in my body, I would have cried when I finally made it to Erica, Abbe, and Maura. They are quite literally the only reason I kept running and didn't drop out and once I got to them, I knew I could finish. I used probably more energy than I should have to give leaping high fives and hugs all around, and then tried to use that last bit of joy to propel me to Boylston Street.

Miles 21-26.2: 9:46 (Heartbreak, indeed), 9:25, 9:27, 9:36 (friends!), 9:26, 9:15, and a 8:05 pace for the last bit.

Am I disappointed? Well yes, because this was my A race - the one I spent 16 weeks training for, and then one I'd targeted as my PR attempt, and to feel like that was all wasted is disappointing. This was my slowest marathon in more than 2 years. But I also know I couldn't have safely run any faster. I was spitting up liquids by mile 18, and I even made a few pit stops for hugs. With all I drank, I didn't go to the bathroom until almost 3 hours after I finished the race.

Lots of people have asked "why is everyone freaking out over 86 degrees?" I run through the summer in the concrete jungle of New York, and I too thought we were perhaps making too big a spectacle out of this. It's not that hot. The thing is, by the time July rolls around and I'm running in 90 degree days, I've had all of June to get acclimated to it. As I mentioned last week, I haven't run in 80+ degree weather in 4 months, and even then, it was for 30 minutes at a time. And even in the heat of July, when I am adjusted to the heat, I don't run for nearly 4 hours at a time. Lastly, while I keep running all summer long, I'm not racing, and there's a big difference between running to finish and racing for time. There's a reason all of the World Marathon Majors are held in the fall or spring - hot weather doesn't make for fast marathons. But it's difficult to be in a race atmosphere and not let hubris lead to poor decisions and dangerous outcomes. I don't know why people talk up near death experiences; I didn't even get that close and the only miraculous visions I had involved hot Gatorade coming out of my own mouth and landing on the pavement in front of me.

So, now what? As I said on Sunday, there are many more marathons in my future, and I'll get my 3:20 someday. Until then, I'll be cooling off with a beer.

Here's to the next great adventure!

Sunday Wrap Up: What We Talk About When We Talk About Heat

While I did just get done spewing some self-empowered nonsense about inclement weather not being an excuse to throw in the towel and get stinking drunk (though I did consider doing just that briefly last night), there's a difference between torrential rain and broiling heat. And that difference is the potential for death. It's elevated in hot conditions, and I'd strongly prefer to live to run marathon number 14.

Much as it pains me, it's time to come to terms with the fact that tomorrow's marathon probably won't see me going 3:20. Am I pissed, because I've trained diligently for a PR? Of course; it's hard not to feel like I wasted 16 weeks pounding out workouts (and 4 weeks pounding water instead of beer) and visualizing coming down Boylston Street with a smile/grimace on my face, knowing I'd gotten an hour faster since my first marathon 5 years ago. Do good things come to those who work hard? Yep. But while hard work may increase the chances that good things happen, it isn't the antidote to shitty things. As my mom used to tell me when things didn't go my way, "life isn't fair."

Note to parents: While true, this is not at all comforting.

It's not fair that I won't get my shot to PR tomorrow, even though I'm ready for it. And it's not fair that there's not another marathon waiting in the wings for me to dominate (if you need me any weekend between now and Columbus Day, I'll be at a wedding, bridal shower, or bachelorette party). And it's not fair that I couldn't have known all this in advance and made different plans.

Life isn't fair.

How about some perspective? Tomorrow is going to be a beautiful, sunny day, and I get to run the Boston Marathon. And drink beers afterward. Sunshine, being outside, running, and beers.

Life isn't fair. Because not everyone gets to spend tomorrow doing exactly what makes them happiest.




Without further ado, I present you my new goals for Monday:

A Goal: Boston PR - sub 3:33. If I'm properly hydrated and able to stay cool, it would be a great treat to improve upon my time in Boston last year. Yes, last year when we had not only perfect temperatures, but also a 20 mph tail wind to help us along.

B Goal: Don't shit self. You know you're in a bad place when this is your B goal.

C Goal: Don't die.

D Goal: If I die, let it be of dehydration so that at least I look really skinny in my coffin.

Like Gatsby, I believe in the future. There will be other marathons, and other shots for 3:20 and faster. Life isn't fair, but thank God there is more of it to come. "It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—"

Number of Miles Run This Week: 16.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 0

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: n/a.

A Weather Update

Allow me to share an excerpt from an email I received from the Boston Athletic Association this afternoon (while I was already en route to Boston. Naturally.):

We are now making the recommendation that if you are not highly fit or if you have any underlying medical conditions (for example-cardiac disease, pulmonary disease or any of a number of medical problems), you should NOT run this race.

Inexperienced marathoners should not run.

Those who have only trained in a cooler climate and who may not be acclimated (for at least the last 10 days) to warm weather running conditions should also consider not running.

For those very fit athletes who decide to run, you should take significant precautions:

Run at a slower pace and maintain hydration.

You should frequently take breaks by walking instead of running.

This will not be a day to run a personal best. If you choose to run, run safely above all else. Speed can kill.

There are so many gems in this email. Those who haven't spent the last 10 days in warm weather shouldn't run? Well that knocks out everyone who's from Boston. And New York. And even DC. Haitians, though, are welcome to participate. Also, people in the southern hemisphere, since it's summer for you. Sorry, America. Your oldest marathon is not open to you.

"For those very fit athletes who decide to run..." Hey! Who are you calling a very fit athlete, huh?!

"This will not be a day to run a personal best." Is that a challenge?

"Speed can kill." That's probably not a challenge.

The BAA is even taking the step of offering deferred registration for the 2013 marathon for those 2012 participants who choose not to start on Monday due to weather concerns. How that impacts the available slots for next year's race notwithstanding, that's a pretty dramatic response.

What the BAA was saying with their email is, if you weren't shitting your Tempo shorts already, you should be. Duly noted.

How to Pack for This Year's Boston Marathon

Oh hey, you probably haven’t heard because no one on the whole internet has bitched about it yet, but it’s going to be like 85 degrees in Boston in Monday.

Not just "like, 85 degrees."  Actually "85 degrees."  And much as you may be tempted to offer comfort by suggesting "well it won't be 85 degrees that early," I'll remind you that I don't start running until 10:20am.  It will indeed be actually 85 degrees by the time I'm done. 

Do you know when I last ran in 85 degree weather? 3 ½ months ago, in St. John. I was there for a week and my longest run was 3 miles, immediately after which I dry heaved onto an iguana before refueling with 14 Coronas and a slice of DiGiorno and collapsing onto a lounge chair.  Needless to say, conditions weren’t ripe for peak athletic performance then, and I have some skepticism around my ability to succeed in Boston on Monday, native reptiles notwithstanding.


But, what did we learn in New Hampshire in October, besides the fact that you shouldn’t hold your pee for 26.2 miles and that Cracker Barrel is delicious? That you can’t control the weather, and you can’t let unfavorable conditions ruin your race. PRs are possible even when conditions aren't ideal.

That said, you don’t want to be that guy getting chest compressions on the BAA website either, so to the best of your ability, you can and should at least take the weather into consideration. For example, the lovely folks at the BAA sent me (and 27,000 other runners) an email today suggesting that we wear “as few clothes as you decently can.” Given my proclivity towards genital-revealing short shorts, this is not a problem for me. The email did go on to recommend “loose fitting white shorts and a white mesh top.” This ensemble won’t be very forgiving should you inadvertently shart yourself (don’t lie; you’ve been there), and nothing about “mesh” screams “I want this rubbing against my sweaty skin for 26.2 miles.” Screens should be mesh. Things that repeatedly graze your nipples should not be.

I myself will be wearing short shorts and a black singlet, which hopefully will keep me cool, and thankfully don’t occupy much real estate in my weekend bag. Which meant I was able to pack something absolutely crucial to take with me to the Athlete Village:

Happy packing!

Race Week Omens, Revisited

Cardiac arrest, shmartiac arrest.  If ever there were a sign from God that I'm going to kill it (as opposed to be killed) on Monday, I received it this evening when I took out my wallet to pay for two boxes of Gu at Jack Rabbit.

Whereas restaurants and businesses frame and display their first dollar, I'm going to frame my Boner dollar and display it with my race medals.


In other news, I plan to actually run tomorrow, and then Friday or Saturday before I hit the road, I'll offer some Boston goals and pre-race musings.  What I'm saying is, come back later in the week for actual content.  


In the meantime, enjoy the Boner dollar.  I know I will.

Race Week Omens

Today I logged onto the Boston Athletic Association website to figure out what time I'll be starting on Monday and this was the homepage:

A dying runner receiving chest compressions.  Good stuff.  Looking forward to it...

Monday Wrap Up: Happy Race Week!

I ran by the convent near my parents' house yesterday on my last long run before Boston. The nuns were outside, enjoying the sunshine and also the whole resurrection thing, it being Easter and all. As I crested the hill directly outside their digs, a cheer went up. Again, I imagine it was because of Jesus' big day, but it was nice to think they were cheering me on.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 28. I haven't run fewer than 30 miles in a week since the week of January 2nd, when I was equal parts drunk and in a humid and mountainous island nation, and then subsequently nursing a Carribbean hangover. My blood was 40% alcohol and 35% DEET that week. Today, my blood is 65% Cadbury Creme Egg.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 0. I'm now 23 days sober. Having straight OJ instead of mimosas at Easter brunch was odd. But not as odd as drinking water at a Bruce Springsteen concert on Friday night. I served as the Designated Photographer instead:

The beers came with built-in pretzel rods. I cannot believe I had to miss this alcoholic bit of ingenuity.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: n/a.

Well here we are. 1 week from race day. I'm in the manic phase of taper-induced manic depression. While this year, I escaped the depressive phase without injury (remember last year when I fell in a hole while running because I had spontaneously started crying and couldn't see where I was going? That was fun, and normal...), I now have so much pent up energy it's taking a lot of effort on my part to not scream the lyrics to the Boss' "Waiting on a Sunny Day" and run up and down the aisles of this MetroNorth train. If you're either a friend looking for a post-work playmate this week, or are a prescribing physician with access to tranquilizers, shoot me an email.

Happy race week, kids!



It's a Sign

Last night, I went for my prescribed 5 easy miles after work along the Hudson.  I was both low on clean running clothes and conscious of the fact that the Boston Marathon is in less than 2 weeks and I haven't decided what sneakers I'm going to wear yet, let alone what clothing.  But as I dug up a pair of (quite short) shorts while packing my bag in the morning, I thought "hmmm, maybe these should be my racing shorts."

The miles were fine, if a little too quick (woe is me), and the short shorts didn't reach the point of indecent.  In fact, the surest sign that these are precisely the short shorts for me was that, as I headed back to my office after I finished my run, a man on the street said to me "Mmm, God bless exercise and God bless you, sweetheart!"

Nothing like a little sexual harrassment to inform any and all vital race day logistical decisions.

Gear Review: Compression Socks

I got my first pair of compression socks maybe 2 years ago.  At approximately $50 a pair, I'd wear them only on sparkling clean feet, only while sitting, so they would never have to touch anything dirty.  This plan actually worked, because I bought them with the specific purpose of wearing them on the plane or in the car on the way back from a marathon.

Since that first pair of compression socks, my collection has expanded, and so have the circumstances under which I'll wear them.  Gradually, I started wearing compression socks after I got out of the shower and put on my pjs to get into bed after a long run.  Then I started wearing them around the house when I had leg fatigue, regardless of what my workout that day had been.  During Reach the Beach last Spring, I wore them on my 4th and final leg, after running 3 times and 20 miles in less than 24 hours.  This season, as my mileage climbed and I found myself stringing together several back-to-back 50+ mile weeks for the first time, and my legs seemed to have less and less time to recover, I started wearing them not just for recovery, but during workouts as well.

Do compression socks work?  Well, that depends on what they're supposed to do, I guess.  Apparently, compression socks are meant to increase blood flow, which seems counterintuitive to me, because squeezing your limbs should stem blood flow.  I guess that's why they're not called tourniquet socks.  Anyway, so increased blood flood is meant to do lots of good things: blood carries oxygen and nutrients to your legumes and other body parts.  But don't believe me (that statement is applicable on nearly every topic); here's what Running Times had to say on the issue:

"...Compression socks [are] aimed at improving oxygen delivery to muscles, speeding lactic acid removal and stabilizing the lower leg for greater muscle efficiency"

So, now we know what they're supposed to do.  The question is, do they?  Well, "fiscally responsible" isn't the first description that jumps to mind when I'm describing myself, but even I wouldn't spend $50 on a pair of socks that didn't do much beyond keep my feet warm.  My experience has been that compression socks do aid recovery; after wearing compression socks, especially overnight after a hard workout, my lower legs feel less dead and are more quickly able to bounce back in a workout the next day.  Further, when I am running on tired legs, which for me really manifests in my shins, compression socks alleviate some of that fatigue and soreness during a run.

But!  Not all compression socks are created equal, and I find I reap the greatest benefits, both during recovery and during runs, from the tightest compression socks.  

I owe compression socks by 3 different brands.  The first pair I purchased, and still have and use, are by 2XU.

I find these are fine for recovery, but aren't really tight enough.  I can wear them all night long without fear of developing gangrene, but they also don't leave me feeling "ahhhh, so refreshed!" the next morning either.  To that end, I've never bothered to run in them when I've needed compression, and instead turn to other pairs.  If these came in sizes, I can't remember what size I got.  Also, black socks creep me out, and whenever I look down at my legs wearing these, I think I'm a middle aged man.

My most recently acquired compression socks are by PRO Compression.  

I got these bad boys for 50% off thanks to a flash sale online via Active Schwaggle.  The blue argyle is a big step up from creepy old man black, and I can get away with wearing these (under long pants or tall boots) to work, which maximizes recovery time.  These are moderately snug.  I ordered a size S/M and feared they would be too tight, for I have voluptuous calves, but they are not. They feel like a firm hug. I only just got these and as such have worn them only for recovery, and not yet for running.

[Runs down hall in apartment and back].

These are suitable for running and recovery.  And when you take them off, you have little diamonds from the argyle embedded in your legs!

Next up, we have The Big Guns.

I'm smiling because I can't feel how sore and tired my legs are. Also, because I just finished a strip tease on the side of the road while parked next to a van full of devout Christian ultrarunners.  

CEP compression socks are TIGHT.  Purchasing them requires taking measurements of your calves, and mine require a Size III.  These take upwards of 10 minutes to put on because they are so tight.  But oh my dear God, is it worth it.  I own two pairs of these - white and hot pink.  Not only did I wear them with my short shorts for that last leg of RTB, above, but I've been living in them this month, both during runs and after.  More than once this season, I've considered bagging a run because of how tired my legs have been, only to wrestle a pair of CEP compression socks on and be able to run pain free.  I rank these up there with Gu, Gatorade, bagels, and beer as key tools in a marathon runner's arsenal.

Lastly, we have Tommie Copper Compression Sleeves, which are like socks, only they don't cover your feet, which I think is actually crucial in the definition of socks, so these are actually not like socks.

Josh hooked me up with some Tommie Copper gear for free earlier in the season.  Not only is this gear (calf and elbow sleeves, shirts, shorts, and gloves) designed for compression, but it's woven with copper infused yarn.  Copper has long been associated with anti-inflammatory and other healing powers, which is why you often see people wearing copper bracelets.  I personally prefer unnatural everything (see: Doritos) so using natural anti-inflammatories isn't necessarily a draw for me, but it doesn't hurt either.  Tommie Copper products are also super lightweight, silky, and thin - much thinner than the thick cotton/Lycra weave of my other compression socks - and these are easy to get on.  I can't give the Tommie Copper products as thorough as a review because a) I only ended up with one calf sleeve, which made it hard to judge whether or not my calves as a team were any less fatigued during and after workouts, and b) despite taking measurements (possibly not in the most assiduous manner...), my one calf sleeve is not as tight as I prefer.  That said, I can attest to the fact that wearing one calf sleeve at a time make people think you are a badass and/or professional NBA player.  Also, I believe I mentioned I ended up with a pair of Tommie Copper Fingerless Compression Gloves, and if you can think of a non-sexually explicit task during which I can test them out, I will gladly write a comprehensive review.  

In summation: tighter is better, compression gear is expensive, and people in the taper phase of marathon training have enough free time on their hands to write 1200 screeds on support hose.

Sunday Wrap Up: How to Be Sober

My friend Meghan asked me at a bridal shower last weekend (speaking of things which alcohol makes more fun, which we are about to do), "so what do you do when you're sober?" It's a good question. Despite my affection for beer, I do like to think of myself as a functioning member of society; someone who has plenty of things to do while sober. "Well, I run a lot. And I read a lot. And I watch Say Yes To The Dress." Because surely civilization would collapse were I not watching wedding programming on TLC...

The truth is, I know that you don't have to be drunk to have a good time. But it doesn't hurt. Plus, I have FOMO - Fear of Missing Out - so when everyone else is drunk and having a good time, I can help but feel like an outsider. While I have plenty of things to do and people to see while sober during the day, I maybe get a little hermitty for my self-imposed sobriety stints, at least in the evening hours.

But last night, something amazing happened: I went out, soberly, and had an excellent time. The very same Meghan as mentioned above was celebrating her birthday at a wine bar. I attended (and drank Diet Coke) and don't think I've ever laughed so hard, so many times - even when drunk. Yes, some of these fits of hysterics were brought on by others' drunken antics, and yes, I called it a night when the crew moved from the table at the wine bar to the beer bar around the corner (the wound is too fresh), and yes, the concept of sober Saturday night socializing is still so revolutionary to me that it's getting its own blog post, but at least I've made some progress.

And I look forward to a time 15 days from now, when the only progress I'll be concerned with making involves progressing through a post-race six pack.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 47. True to my word, I did not make this another 50 mile week. Though I am slightly nervous that when I arrive in Connecticut in an hour, IMan will be expecting me to join him in a run. No means no, IMan; I'm not even drunk.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 0. And I cut myself off after 2 Diet Cokes last night because I was worried about my late-night caffeine intake. Screw what I said above about progress; I hate myself and the loser I've become.

Type of Beers Consumed This Week: n/a.