Post by Will
August 4, 2010 at 11:30 am
There is one thing I love to write about and that is running (the proof is in the pudding). I could wax poetic every week, as long as I am in some sort of state of training, which I find, I am usually within if you are going on the past few years.
I like it, I love it, I hate it, I loathe it. There are definitely feelings that range and vary in the most extreme fashions.
That being said, I have more to say about the topic.
I have finally secured, as I have mentioned before, what I will dub “The Half Marathon Marathon Week” which will run (pun intended) from October 16th thru the 24th (okay, so it’s actually one week and an additional day – sue me). During this week, I will be attempting to go 26.2 miles (and then some … with the travel and all) over the course of two days with a sizable 7 day break in the interim.
The first leg will take place in Baltimore, the second in Athens (where you go when you die if you have been good).
The hardest part has been lobbying my collegiate roommates to join in the final leg. Thus far, three-fourths have accepted the gauntlet I have laid before them. We are still working on that last fourth (with methods varying from reason to shame).
October looks like it is going to be a month of redemption (deferring the Baltimore Half to this year) and reunion (see above).
Post by Will
July 16, 2010 at 4:25 pm
Run for your lives!
With apologies to John Tenta, apparently we were on the receiving end of an earthquake this morning. Our official statement on the events that transpired? You could’ve fooled us.
The news of the earthquiver got me to thinking about the fact we have been lacking somewhat in the Update Department (are you following my train of thought here?).
With the summer here, we have been putting our noses to the proverbial grindstones. Brittany has been swamped with a three week class she is conducting and I have had a few side projects I have been working on. That and trying to convince my collegiate roommates to run the Athens Half the week after I run the Baltimore Half.
For now, textual posts may be few and far between but we will constantly try to have photos for you to gawk at (Hello Pennsylvania weekender). I mean, the whole “thousand words” thing works, right?
Post by Will
April 15, 2010 at 1:04 pm
Running has been great blogging fodder for us the past year. In fact, it was enhanced by my overtly dramatic tomes detailing my rise, fall, and rise from the excessively aforementioned Toe Woe ’09 incident (which I will finally refuse to link back to). Granted, you know when June rolls around, it is going to be inevitable that there will be a full-blown MRSA infested toe year-in-review encapsulation. Just a warning.
This was and is, for the time being, the longest race I have run (that being the Credit Union Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run). In fact, I ran more in one day that I usually run in a whole week (somewhat gross overstatement but you get the point).
I know, I know. I can see all 7 of our readers out there mentally bracing themselves for some type of “deep” philosophical preening tale of how running is a great parallel to [insert life phenomenon here]. Well, running does have these particular alignments but I won’t wax poetic about them today.
Instead, I guess I would like to share a little about the race day process. Let me preface this by saying this was not the hardest race I have run (that designation and honor would be bestowed upon the Jingle All the Way 10K circa 2009).
When you arrive, you go through all of the paces. Stretching, hydrating, staring at the unreasonable lines for the port-o-potties and wondering why you didn’t go before you left the house (but then you remember you did and curse your rather feeble bladder).
Then, you get “in line” and count down the minutes to the starter’s gun (thank you Heller v. DC). Actually, getting in line this past weekend was a little troublesome as they had fenced off the staging area. So, after going up and down looking for the Orange Wave entrance, I had to do my very best Former Soviet Republic gymnast impression and squeeze between a very small crevice in the geometric framework (any takers on what shape it was?).
Now it’s the waiting game. We were the fourth (I think) wave to leave so there was about a 10 minute gap from the starter’s clock and when my ChronoTrack tag registered my departure from the starting line.
It is very important for me to find a bang-up running form. What does this mean? It means, within minutes of weaving in and out of the dense pack (and consequently, being weaved in and out of, myself), I am trying to be very conscious of my posture (upright, straight back), arms (pumping to the sides, never crossing over my torso), breathing (oxygen in the nose, carbon dioxide through the mouth) and my feet as they pound the asphalt (balls to toes).
I was talking to Brittany and these are things and she declared she is rarely mindful of her form. Different strokes for different folks (neither being right nor wrong).
Usually when I establish some good pacing for my body and have things on auto-pilot, I can worry about accessing strategy. For this race, I intended to go at about a good trot for the first six miles and then pick up the pace for the last four. I was actually able to do this and felt the last half of the race was much stronger than the first.
This also might have to do with the regard that when a race gets closer to its end, you eventually find the masses begin to peter out as people find their paces, pick up their strides, or cool their jets a bit. The odd thing about this race was that gridlock never really let up (just like my commute on the Beltway). Brittany was warned earlier that this was a teeming and swarming affair but I think we both were a little taken aback at how consistent the fullness was for the duration of the course.
Then, of course, I like to sprint the last 100 yards or so to the finish. Unfortunately, my guesstimate of the last 100 yards was wrong and I ended up needing to go about 200 more yards after sprinting up the hill on 15th headed towards the Washington Monument (this is when my body half seized and my extremities started to really tingle).
I never look forward to race day. But, when it starts, I am always constantly reminded about how extraordinary the experience can be. It is not simply the accomplishment, the athletic feats, or horribly designed t-shirts. Race day is also about the camaraderie with the other runners, the support from the on-lookers (I pointedly wear my rag-tag Georgia shirt as it elicits some big, literal shout-outs), and the unexpected (i.e. the fellow at the tip of Hains Point furnishing free beer and Oreos) — Poetics I’ll continue to wax.
