Page 26.2

Only 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Hell: The 108th Boston Marathon

2004-04-22T09:03:00.000-05:00

Let's kick this off with some statistics.

Official entrants: 20,344.
Official entrants who actually showed up: 17,950.
Official entrants who finished: 16,743.
Runners receiving medical treatment: just over 1,000.
Runners hospitalized: 136.
Runners who had heart attacks: 2.

In light of all that, I am really happy with how my Monday went.

--Hopkinton--
I disembark from a shuttle bus in the parking lot of Hopkinton High School. As I stumble down the street to our team meeting place, I think about all the other things I could be doing at 7:45 on a warm Patriots Day morning. Like sleeping. Or... sleeping.
By 11 am, I have guzzled about 40 oz. of water, which I think makes me eligible for sponsorship from Belmont Springs. After watching the temperature slowly creep up over the course of the morning, the entire Dana-Farber team lines up for a pre-race photo. The sun is out in full-force, and we're baking in 83 degree heat on the pavement. The guy sitting next to me says, "This is ironic. A cancer fundraising group, and we're all gonna get melanoma."
I cross the start line at around 12:30, start my watch, and proceed to run the slowest two miles of my life. Slow like the sloth. Slow like my 70-year-old uncle behind the wheel. I did this with the intent of making up the time in the second half of the race, a plan only slightly less doomed to fail than a 1990's dot-com start-up.

--Ashland--
Some cloud cover rolls in, which pushes the temperature down to 80 or so. Spectators are spraying us with garden hoses, telling us that the Red Sox are behind by 3 runs, and pointedly not telling us how many miles are left. People are passing me, apparently in a rush to get to the mile 23 medical tent (which is where I see more than a few of them later).

--Framingham and Natick--
The course flattens out and becomes The Most Boring Stretch of Road in North America (tm). With absolutely nothing to distract me, realization sets in that I have something like 20 miles to go. The heat has addled my brain so much that this seems like a reasonable, managable distance. In the interest of experimentation, I attempt to drink a half-cup of Gatorade while still jogging, and manage to inhale about 3oz. of lemon-lime electrolytes. By the time I get through Natick, the Sox are only behind by 1.

--Wellesley--
I get to the halfway point at about 2:30, convinced that all the Wellesley students have left the course and I'll be able to pass by the campus in peace. Not so. At least 200 women are still out there, doling out high-fives and screaming like banshees. The guys around me are stunned and awed. I witness the following exchange between two male runners:
"Well, there's one good thing about the heat."
"What?"
"Short skirts."
"Amen, brother."
I choke back another Gu at mile 13 -- Vanilla Bean is losing its cache -- and keep plugging, looking for Dad, Stephen, and Diane. I finally come across them at the 93 overpass, and I have never been so happy to see lawn chairs and a cooler in my life. They dole out sweaty hugs and douse me with ice water, and Diane exclaims, "You look great!" She will be the first of many people to lie to me in this fashion over the course of the afternoon.
Just as I am contemplating parking myself in one of the lawn chairs, Stephen says, "The Kenyans went by about a minute ago." Wiseass.

--Newton--
My name is pretty easy to pronounce, right? It's phonetic. Jo-nelle. Easy. However, this tongue-twisting feat is too much for at least 60 percent of the fans on Washington Street. I wrote my name on my jersey before the race, hoping to get a little love from the crowd, but it turns out that many of them can't pronounce it. As I advance on them, I see them squint a little, and they shout, "Come on, Jo... Jo-lene," or "Jo-elle," or some other verbal train wreck. It's okay. I appreciate the effort at this point, because the sun is back out, and I'm dragging. This part of the course gets hazy, but I remember I picking up a tangerine PowerGel at mile 17 and promptly spitting it out, having found something that tastes even more disgusting than Just Plain Gu.
With the exception of the water stops, I haven't walked yet, but the hills are taking their toll. I've lost about 4 pounds at this point, and every molecule of salt I've consumed in the last three days has seeped out of my body and is encrusted on my singlet. Then, just before mile 19, I find a reason to keep going.
Two cute, shirtless boys. 'Tis true.
Ninety percent of the people around me were walking, but these boys -- bandit runners, I think, for they had no shirts on which to pin a number -- were slowly jogging up the hills, and I suddenly found a reserve of energy that allowed me to keep up with them. Everytime I bottomed out and wanted to walk, some spectator would hose them down, and I would find a way to keep running. We do what we must do.
I finally passed them at the top of Heartbreak and realized three things:
1) The last three miles were the fastest I had run all day.
2) My stomach cramps had faded a little, and my legs were feeling surprisingly okay.
3) I only had five miles to go.
So, thank you, Cute Shirtless Boys. I salute you.

--Brookline--
Brookline is somewhat of a blur. I remember seeing Avital on Beacon Street, and I remember a very nice group of guys just after a water stop yelling out my name (pronounced correctly, thank you very much) and encouraging me to start running again, and I remember seeing a lot of people walking. By the time I get past Coolidge Corner, I tell myself I am never allowed to run a marathon again.

--Boston--
I pick up another Dana-Farber runner drinking water at the mile 24 medical tent, and we commence to get through the last 2.2 miles. By the time I see the Citgo sign, I'm swearing under my breath, realizing that I'm going to have to do this again. And again. And again. Stupid inspirational Adidas ad campaign.
I wave to the Dana-Farber patients and fans on the Kenmore bridge and dig in for the last mile. The guy I'm running with has never done Boston before, and I tell him, "Boylston Street is going to seem really long. It's not." I'm lying.
I see my mom on Hereford Street, screaming like a Wellesley girl; I hang a left; and I make it down Boylston to the finish line.
A volunteer gives me a mylar jacket, even though it's 85 degrees out. I get a big hug from my roommate Charlotte -- I think she was covertly checking me for signs of hyponytremia -- and I shuffle down Boylston, looking like a salty, foil-wrapped baked potato.

All in all, a good day.

Done and done

2004-04-20T11:09:00.000-05:00

I finished. I ran the whole way. And I wasn't hospitalized.

A blow-by-blow description of the day is forthcoming, after I shotgun some more ibuprofen. Just wanted to let everyone know that I got through it and I feel pretty good.

If not humor, at least esoteric wit.

2004-04-18T19:10:00.000-05:00

So, yeah. It's the night before the race.

Just got back from the Dana-Farber pasta party, and I will begrudgingly admit to getting a little teary. All season, people have been repeating the same tug-at-the-heartstrings rhetoric, the "you're making a difference" reminders. When I saw the pictures of kids being treated at the institute, it hit home.

We all have our own race to run -- literally and metaphorically -- and some of us get through it with wisdom, or ego, or inspiration. I try to do it with humor. (You've read the training log, so you judge whether I'm succeeding at that or not.) But if I hit the bottom tomorrow, if there comes a point where the Gu and the Gatorade and the crowd and the internal wisecracks aren't helping me get it done, I've got a pretty powerful store of inspiration to draw on.

I'm running in honor of a lot of people who have won their battles with cancer, and a lot of people who lost. You're all letting me run in honor and in memory of your loved ones -- I've got a responsibility to them, and to you, to get it done.

And with that, I'm going to watch "This is Spinal Tap," set two alarm clocks for 5:30am, pack up my PowerBars, and go to bed.

But mylar is the new black!

2004-04-18T10:28:00.000-05:00

Someone pointed out to me yesterday that since it's going to be so hot on Monday, they probably won't need to pass out those kickass foil jackets at the finish line. This is a tragedy.

Mmmmm... electrolytes.

2004-04-17T22:46:00.000-05:00

36.5 hours to go. Not that I'm obsessing or anything.

I am carbo loading as we speak, eating a late dinner of leftover pasta and wondering what the hell Drew Barrymore has done lately to merit her hosting Saturday Night Live. Picked up my number today -- 17,206 -- and met up with Robbie for our traditional pillaging and plundering of the marathon expo. The PowerBar booth never knew what hit it.

The road really is a bi-ah-itch, my friend.

2004-04-16T15:42:00.000-05:00

Things I am reading to take my mind off the fact that the marathon is in three days:

Fifteen Minutes. I used to take pictures for this magazine, back when it was funnier and less self-important and didn't run stupid articles about eavesdropping through fire doors.
Summit Up. Even though I don't live in Colorado anymore, Summit Up is still the absurdist highlight of my day.
Joe's Journal. Who knew Joe Pisapia was so funny? And he plays a mean banjo, to boot.
Stereogum. "Spray, delay, walk away." Brilliant.

You know what I'm not reading? The weather forecast.

Media mogul

2004-04-15T13:54:00.000-05:00

From my hometown newspaper. It makes me sound like a huge wuss.

There are times when "8" is not a lucky number

2004-04-15T10:27:00.000-05:00

Screw you, Pete Bouchard!

Everyone's forcasts for Marathon Monday have been creeping up over the past couple of days, but Pete over at Channel 7 has topped them all with a cheery "high of 88." Eighty. Eight. Degrees.

Also, a gusty, southwesterly wind. Is that a headwind, or a tailwind? Which way am I running again? Where am I?

Cloudy with a chance of biblical plagues

2004-04-14T08:13:00.000-05:00

Never let it be said that marathon runners do not obsess over absolutely everything.

Weather update...
- National Weather Service: Showers and mid-60s.
- Channel 7: Cloudy and 81.
- Strange woman: Floods and locusts, chance of raining frogs.

Which is preferable: low 80s, or frogs? I'm torn.

Vive le General Admission

2004-04-12T12:15:00.000-05:00

A week before my first marathon, back in 2002, I bumped (literally) into Dave Matthews on my way back from my last long run. (He was in town for a show at The Vault.) I kind of hoped history would repeat itself Saturday and I would trip over Ben Kweller or Ben Gibbard on JFK Street, but I had to settle for admiring them from the audience. Concertgoing is an important component of my cross-training regimine.

Have I mentioned how great tapering is?

2004-04-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

Finished my last long run by myself on Saturday morning, knocking out ten miles along the river. Ten miles is supposed to be a "short" long run. It's still long. But this week, besides a few miles on Tuesday and Thursday, all I've got to concentrate on is eating carbohydrates (I spit on Atkins' grave) and not injuring myself before next Monday. When you're as klutzy as I am, this is a challenge. It might not be a bad idea to just cover myself in bubble wrap until race day.

Went home on Sunday after dozing through Easter Mass. My parents just developed a roll of film that's been in the camera since the Reagan administration -- we're not big picture-takers in my family -- and there are a handful of shots in there from last summer of my mom with no hair. She looks really... aerodynamic.

It's been almost a year since her initial diagnosis, and it's kind of shocking to realize how much has changed since then. Mom had breast cancer, then she didn't; Tracy was single and living in the city, then she wasn't; I was a writer and a pathetically poor snowboarder in Colorado, then I wasn't; Dad... well, Dad's pretty much the same, come to think of it. There is probably some metaphor to be made here about running and life and hills and Gu and... something. Screw it. It's too early in the morning to get philosophical.

2500 meters, or one cruller and a medium regular.

2004-04-07T15:53:00.000-05:00

So, I promised to talk about the general strangeness of my health club.

Let me start by admitting that I am fairly spoiled when it comes to health clubs. Back in Colorado, I lived half a block from the Breckenridge Recreation Center, a big, gorgeous, town-run gym with basketball courts and an indoor track and two relatively kick-ass climbing walls. Even the oft-disparaged MAC, the school gym I used as an undergrad, had a great stretching studio, and its planners had the good sense to position the cardio machines in such a manner as to offer unparalleled views of good-looking swimmers and basketball players. Rowr.

The gym I belong to now -- let's preserve its anonymity and call it the "Deacon Chill Health Club" -- has none of these things. Granted, climbing walls are not in great demand in the city, and Boston suffers from a dearth of good-looking swimmers. Also, rents suck. This is probably why Deacon Chill Health Club has approximately the same square footage as my apartment. For those of you who have seen where I live, picture my apartment with freeweights in the living room, spinning bikes in the foyer, and about 20 cardio machines crammed into the kitchen. Convert Charlotte's bedroom into two locker rooms, throw in a vending machine and -- voila -- Deacon Chill.

This wouldn't even be an issue if the cardio machines, like, worked and stuff. Correction -- they do work, but the eliptical machines all appear to be stuck on level 13 or so, making your workout feel something like running through syrup. With dumbells strapped to your ankles. The elipticals and treadmills offer a lovely view of Dunkin' Donuts, a planning move clearly designed to get people off the machines and out of the club to pick up a double-glazed. There is also one forlorn rowing machine with a broken distance meter, which necessitates the fun game of "Guess how far you rowed." The answer is usually "Far enough to deserve a double-glazed."

The locker rooms, besides being a little cramped, are sandwiched between the spinning studio and the kickboxing studio, guaranteeing you a soundtrack of really loud music and really loud grunting at every hour of the day. The whole place has an exposed-brick-and-beams, dirty-windows, industrial aesthetic, which would be kind of cool and edgy for a downtown loft, but not so much for a gym, where the emphasis should be... oh, I don't know, cleanliness? Not edginess. Cleanliness.

And yet, I will remain a member in good stead. My employer picks up half the tab.

Did some light-cross training on the bike during my lunch break, then proceeded to eat a lunch of epic proportions. Tapering is wonderful.

Band reunited

2004-04-05T12:05:00.000-05:00

I'm pleased to report that my IT band seems to have shaken off whatever depression it was going through and is functioning normally again. Whew. Had a much better (though still slow) run on Saturday in South Boston, around the sugar bowl and out to the JFK library. I know everyone else hates that route -- it's out-and-back, and flat, and the wind bitch-slaps you for two solid miles around Castle Island, and it's easy to get lost, and you have to run through some shiggy over by U.Mass... whine, whine, whine. I love that run. Bring on the shiggy.

I also consumed the much-abused packet of Gu at mile 9, and I am happy to report that the washing, drying, and freezing had no adverse affects on the Gu's ability to produce the necessary amount of glycogen. However, "Just Plain" is the nastiest Gu flavor ever. It's just really... flavorless. Plain, if you will. I don't recommend it.

Fundraising total is up to $3,774.40. Giddyup.

Worst. Day. EVER.

2004-04-01T14:49:00.000-05:00

I despise April Fools Day. No other 24-hour-period causes me more stress.

Every e-mail you get is a hoax. Every news story you read is false. Every conversation you get drawn into ends with some twisted punchline. I have to spend the whole day approaching everything with twice my normally healthy level of paranoia. My head is about to explode.

This one is kind of funny, though: Save the Peeps! Those wacky Christians.

I just got back from the gym, where spent a blissfully pain free hour on the elliptical. Now I'm just obessing over what I should be eating and what other pitfalls await me between now and marathon day.

More proof that I train

2004-03-30T14:29:00.000-05:00

I love my spiffy DFMC jacket, but it makes me look like I weigh 40 extra pounds.

Getting the band back together

2004-03-29T16:43:00.000-05:00

Warning: English major wielding medical terminology. Continue at your own risk.

The iliotibial band -- also known as the IT band -- is a string of tissue that extends from the thigh down over the knee and attaches to the tibia. When the knee bends (flexion) and straightens (extension), the iliotibial band slides over the bony parts of the outer knee (the lateral femoral epicondyle).

When one does stupid things repeatedly -- like, say, running long distances on concrete -- one may develop lateral knee pain related to irritation and inflammation of the distal portion of the iliotibial band at, or just distal to, the point at which it crosses the lateral femoral epicondyle.

In other words, ouch. Bad Gu was the least of my troubles on Sunday. (And, no, I did not eat the Gu. I put in in my freezer in an attempt to reconstitute it.) I developed some minor twinging in my left IT band around mile three of Sunday's 20 miler, which sent me into panic mode. I slowed down and shuffled through the rest of the run, and the pain faded around mile 18; by that point, however, the rest of me was in quite a bit of pain. I also came down with a cold Saturday, and spent Sunday morning producing and exhaling mass quantities of snot. So my longest run of the season -- the cornerstone of my training, if you will -- was ridiculously slow and completely draining.

The human body really isn't meant to do this, is it?

I'm okay. Still stuffed up, but just a bit of traditional muscle soreness today and no knee pain, which is a good sign. I'll get my miles in on the elliptical this week and tackle Saturday's run with more than usual caution. If a little runner's knee (the more common name for IT band achiness) is the only thing wrong with my body this week, I'm in pretty good shape.

And, hey, I *did* run all 20 miles -- on the hills of Newton and Wellesley, no less. What's 6.2 more?

Dryer vs. Running Pants vs. Gu: an experiment

2004-03-27T18:33:00.000-05:00

I was just folding my laundry -- taking note of the fact that I own an alarming number of shirts emblazoned with the words "Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge" -- and I felt something suspiciously squishy in the pocket of my Nike Dri-Fit Track Pants (tm). I opened the pocket, and, lo and behold, found a packet of Gu. The flavor was "Just Plain" (as opposed to my customary "Vanilla Bean"), leading me to believe that I picked it up at the Gu Stop along the route of the Law Enforcement Half Marathon a couple of weeks ago. I didn't eat it then, a little wary of what "Just Plain" might taste like, and tucked it in the pocket of my track pants for the Wayland run. Alas, it went uneaten for another week, and pants and Gu together went into the spin cycle.

The packet is still intact, though it feels a little more liquidy than normal Gu. Thus, we are presented with a connundrum. Do we:
(a) Attempt to eat the Gu during tomorrow's run, bearing in mind that 20 miles is a long way to go on bad Gu;
(b) Save the Gu for next week's 13-miler; or
(c) Dispose of the Gu and stick with unwashed, undried Vanilla Bean?

Voting closes at 7:30 a.m.

Ziggy Cooper and the Constantinople Buckaroos

2004-03-25T14:54:00.000-05:00

... is not a real band. But they could be. I'm thrilled to have discovered something else to ponder during my long, long run on Sunday.

Ok. I am starting to freak out a little.

2004-03-23T11:53:00.000-05:00

Had another solid long run Sunday morning -- 15 miles in Wayland, with a healthy negative split. Four weeks to go, and I'm finally starting to get a little... achy. And nervous. With so many good runs in a row, I'm overdue to get lost, or accidentally melt my running shoes, or blow out my iliotibial band. It's a light week in preparation for 20-22 miles on Sunday, so I've got plenty of time to obsessively worry about what will go wrong.

Unrelatedly, Springsteen provides the soundtrack to this little video tour of the route. Check those hills!

Our strength is in their memories. And our speeding tickets.

2004-03-15T13:56:00.000-05:00

Had a blast at the Law Enforcement Half Marathon on Sunday. After I peeled off one of my many layers at mile 3, the conditions were perfect and the course pleasantly flat. I paced myself well, ran negative splits, indulged in a little trash talking and finished feeling as though I could run another 13.1 at nearly the same pace. Unfortunately, the competition was swifter than usual, and my conservative pace landed me somewhere in the bottom third of finishers. But a good time was had by all.

We're doing another medium-long run this Sunday... 12-15 miles. I hope I still feel this good when I'm due for an honest 22.

Topped off my Sunday race with an intimate little performance by this guy, who made my night by playing a couple of rarities and going off on an inspired rant during "Something's Missing." It's nice to know that I'm not yet too old to appreciate a General Admission show.

Idiot's Guide to the Boston Marathon

2004-03-12T11:29:00.000-05:00

I remember reading this around marathon time last year, and thinking to myself, "Man, I should do this again." What the hell was I thinking?

No, your body is a wonderland. Baby.

2004-03-12T09:26:00.000-05:00

Ran a fast nine miles on the course last night. (Well, fast for me.) And it was a *good* nine miles. The hills are nowhere near as bad as they used to be, and they no longer inspire blind panic.

I think I am finally learning how to pace myself and, conversely, how to push myself. That's an exciting prospect, but I'm wondering why, after 20-some-odd years of running, it finally kicked in this winter. Better late than never, I suppose.

In any event, looking forward to the Law Enforcement Half-Marathon on Sunday and catching John Mayer at Brandeis Sunday night. Maybe I'll get thrown another guitar pick.

Fear and loathing in Newton

2004-03-10T11:10:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday, I ran 14.9 miles through Brighton and over the marathon course in overcast weather, and turned in negative splits, despite the fact that I briefly got lost near the end. I am slightly concerned that I got lost ON THE MARATHON COURSE. But I paced myself almost perfectly, tackled the hills and ran my last two miles in about 18 minutes. Good times. (Please pause and appreciate unintentional pun.)

Hit the gym yesterday, fearing snow, then inhaled Greek food at this new joint. Sending out a round of fundraising e-mails tonight and prepping for another hill workout tomorrow.

South Boston has a yacht club?

2004-03-01T13:44:00.000-05:00

Had a low-key week in preparation for mile-heavy March -- 5 miles on Tuesday and 5 on Thursday. I ate lots of pasta, drank lots of water, and discovered a new favorite emblematic running song by Ben Kweller. Note the repeated "running as fast as I can" mantra and the clever mention of carbohydrates.

When Saturday rolled around, the sunshine made me so damn happy that I had a very good long run with the team in South Boston (and past the aforementioned yacht club). I thought I did a slow 18 miles, I found out today that someone miscalculated the distance, so I actually did a moderately paced 19.7 miles. Yeah, that's right. I'm Rick James, bitch.

Proof that I actually do train

2004-02-23T10:04:00.000-05:00

Here's a picture of me hating hill work. I'm at the bottom, in the purple and black jacket, trying to hide from Vic's camera.

You know what I hate? Hill work

2004-02-22T18:50:00.000-05:00

Well, that's not exactly true. Hills do add an element of variety to a run, and I feel really good after getting to the top of a whopper. It's still not any fun. And the Boston Marathon is all about hills. Down, down, down for the first big chunk of the course, which turns your knees into jelly, then up, up, up for the last few miles and the infamous Heartbreak Hill. Last time I did this, I was begging random spectators to swap their quadriceps for mine.

Ran 14.5 out of Waltham today, past the DeCordova and over lots of hills. My long runs, while ridiculously slow, don't drain me like they used to. Wait until I get into 20 mile territory.

I hate hill work.

2004-02-17T08:58:00.000-05:00

That's all I have to say about that right now.

Rule #1: When you are convinced Dad is wrong, he is right

2004-02-15T20:08:00.000-05:00

Dad suggested that the reason I'm eating so voraciously is because I'm training differently than I did for my first marathon. I, of course, scoffed at this. I ran my first Boston during my senior year of college and trained during an unseasonably warm winter; I also had a much looser schedule then with a lot more time to get in my weekly mileage. If anything, I feel like I'm devoting *less* time to training this time around, between the weather, the 9-5 schedule, and the general strangeness of my health club. (More on this later.)

But I compared my running logs from then and now, and I'm 21 miles ahead of where I was on February 15, 2002. Dad is right. That pains me. It also explains why I ate a total of nine crepes at our Valentine's Day dinner party last night.

Ran a little over 16 through Arlington and Cambridge on Saturday, tiptoeing through the frequent icy patches on the Minuteman bike path. Also, got lost. Who gets lost on a bike path? I do. Anyway, I'm overdue to start working on hills.

Gobble, part deux

2004-02-12T17:00:00.000-05:00

I have become an eating machine.

Seriously. I am chowing down approximately twice the amount of food I usually eat. I'd like to think it's because I'm expending more calories, but if I burned calories at the rate at which I now eat, there would be smoke pouring out of my ears. At least I'm trying to keep it healthy, with the exception of an occassional McGriddle.

7 miles down this week and approximately 23 to go (7 tomorrow, 16 Saturday). Saturday is predicted to be a balmy 43 degrees, with temperatures plunging back down into the teens on Sunday; accordingly, our group run is scheduled Sunday morning. I'm going to bite the bullet and knock off the 16 on my own in the warmer weather. Thank goodness for my Camelbak.

A really ungraceful swan, at that

2004-02-08T15:29:00.000-05:00

Our Watertown run was cancelled, due to slick sidewalks, but when the sun started shining in the afternoon I ventured out on my own. And I wasn't two miles into it when I tripped on the sidewalk by JFK street and did a swan dive on the bricks. I think it was fairly impressive -- I skidded a good 18 inches on my chest, limbs splayed out and mud coating my chin.

Naturally, I hefted myself up and took off down Eliot Street, leaving gaping tourists in my wake. I got safely around the corner and out of sight before I stopped, wiped off some of the mud, and hobbled home. All in all, a disappointing afternoon.

I'm okay -- bruised knees, wounded pride, but otherwise, it's all good. I think the warmer weather this week will give me the mental pickup I need.

In the words of Jessica Simpson...

2004-02-06T12:00:00.000-05:00

..."I'm, like, 23. Which is almost 24. Which is, like, almost mid-20's."

I'm actually, like, 24 today, but feeling ok about it. Happy birthday to me.

Adapting to city running is more difficult than I expected. The running path around the river is a little chaotic at night -- all lights and noise from the cars on Memorial and Storrow Drives. Not the best place for a meditative evening run. But, on the bright side, it's been warmer out. I actually over-dressed for my 8 miles last night, which is way preferable to underdressing (as I discovered during the early-season deep freeze).

It's snowing at a good clip, which will likely make for a slippery 12 miles in Watertown tomorrow morning.

The Holy Grail is filled with Gu

2004-02-02T10:37:00.000-05:00

At around mile 14 of my 16 mile run in Wayland Sunday, another runner was going in the opposite direction. As we crossed paths, he asked me, "Are you having fun?"

"No." I thought. "I've got two more miles to cover, there's a huge hill up ahead, I've been out here for over two hours, it's below freezing, I'm dehydrated, and my knee just started twinging. I would say that I'm having the opposite of fun right now."

But this guy didn't have the benefit of my inner monologue. "Are you having fun?" he asked.

"Absolutely!" I said, and grinned.

Yeah, it was a bald-faced lie. But I started to think about the brief bits of the run where I really was having some fun. Like when a good song came on the radio, or when I outsprinted the team captain so he couldn't take my picture. And I saw Tom Zappala running just up ahead of me, stretching out his arms to work out what looked like some neck or shoulder cramps -- it reminded me of a kid pretending to be an airplane.

I am not generally a sappy, sentimental person, but I will grudgingly admit that a little positive thinking went a long way during those last few miles. I won't say I was having fun, but I felt a lot better, and I logged a very good run. (Eating some carbo gels -- also known as Gu -- probably had something to with it too).

And then the Pats won the Super Bowl. Overall, a good day.

Rock 'n' roll

2004-01-26T10:59:00.000-05:00

The deep freeze woefully continues, so I took advantage of a couple of hours of Saturday sushine to knock off 12.5 miles. Instead of getting up early and schlepping to Dedham to meet with the team, I went solo along the Charles and felt great -- until meeting a headwind at the MIT boathouse. Mother Nature continues to crack her sado-masochistic whip.

Fortunately, it was a stepback week, so just some x-training, a six-miler, a five-miler and Saturday's 12 did the trick. Unfortunately, this coming week is hardly that: I'm due for a 5-7 miler, a 7-10, a 3-4 and a 16-18 on Sunday. Sweet.

I'm planning on hitting the gym after work today as penance for the good time I had rocking out last night.

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes...

2004-01-18T20:16:00.000-05:00

...are definitely some of my least favorite things. I should have worn ski goggles during my run today.

Knocked off a preposterously slow 15 miles this morning in Lincoln. It was only supposed to be 14, but I got lost at the end and didn't realize it until I had chugged half a mile up a hill. Beautiful. The soles of my feet are a little achy for some reason, but otherwise I feel okay. The marathon still feels very far away, so it's hard to judge whether I'm on pace for training. I'm up to $735 in donations, so it's time to start bringing out the big guns on that front.

Kudos to my godfather for feeding me up tonight with some good old rib-sticking mashed potatoes and beef stew, and double kudos to my Patriots for giving me a reason to look forward to the rest of January.

I knew people would catch on to this Internet thing.

2004-01-14T12:53:00.000-05:00

My first online donation rolled in yesterday! Cheers, applause. It's nice to see that little fundraising thermometer go up (because the thermometer outside recording the actual temperature sure isn't). Between the $100 given through the website and the $370 in checks, we're moving right along.

In other news, why is nothing in the world is as gratifying as hearing your request played on the radio? Thank you, WBOS -- I will be tuned to you while I hit the treadmill tonight for some toasty, indoor training.

Sleep is overrated!

2004-01-11T12:24:00.000-05:00

So, let's say you got up early Saturday morning and spent the day moving into your new apartment and spackling the walls. Then you watched a thrilling Patriots playoff game. Then you stayed up until 1 am to see your favorite band on Austin City Limits. Now, would you get up at 6:15 the next morning, drive to Wayland, and run 12.5 miles in 3-degree weather? 'Cause I did.

I am insane. I am also still shivering. But it's all good.

If I had on any more fleece, I'd be made out of Polartek.

2004-01-08T16:41:00.000-05:00

But let us put the (frigid) weather aside for a moment...

I've received my first donations! Cheers, applause. We're up to $110 with only $4,890 to go.

Cranking out an hour on the exercise bike tonight and a 7-miler Friday after work. I'm planning on some aggressive cross-training on Saturday -- namely, moving into my second floor apartment. Good times. If I ever find a reasonably priced place to live on the ground, I'm never going to leave it. Ever.

Embracing the working world

2004-01-06T16:45:00.000-05:00

I am slowly, slowly adjusting to working 9-5. I am being introduced to concepts like a "lunch hour" and "daily meetings." In the meantime, I'm still training and looking forward to a bitterly cold week.

Knocked off 12.5 miles last Sunday and took Monday off to recuperate from my first day on the job. I'm going to squeeze in 5 miles when I get home tonight (my first nighttime run of the season! Bring on the reflector tape.) We'll see what we'll see.

Wrote my letters last Sunday too, so watch your mail and your inbox...

Merry merry.

2003-12-30T12:37:00.000-05:00

Hello all. And did everyone have GLORIOUS holidays?!

Santa was particularly good to me this year, leaving a new job and a sweet Porter Square apartment under the tree. I'm looking forward to running around Fresh Pond, doing the river loops, and having a gym just across the street.

Icy streets made the last week or so in Vermont difficult, but I've been plugging along. Planning on cross-training today and doing a nice, relaxed 12 miles tomorrow morning (to get myself in a good frame of mind for NYE cooking). I also set up my fundraising webpage for those of you who enjoy the internet shopping.

Back in Massachusetts, redux

2003-12-15T21:26:00.000-05:00

I'm hanging out with the family for a few days. We cut down our Christmas tree, unpacked 27 boxes of holiday decorations and conjured up as much holiday spirit as we could stand. Mom had her final surgery -- removing the cath from her chest -- and she has eschewed pain medication, trying instead to dull the ache with Tylenol, an ice pack, and half a bottle of wine. She's a trooper.

Knocked off 9.3 miles on a chilly Sunday, which felt amazingly good. I just cranked out the Wakefield lake loop three times and listened to the Patriots pre-game show on the radio until they ran out of material and started filling their airtime with serious discussion of modern helmet construction. I do like running around here, if only because I can get decent radio reception (something I always took for granted until I moved to downtown Burlington). All the same, I can't wait to invest in an mp3 player.

Tomorrow, I've got a team meeting at Dana-Farber, and I've heard rumors that some kind of pasta will be involved. I am also scheduled for "4-6 miles at effort level 2 with 4-6 strides." I'm looking forward to discovering whether or not I even possess varying effort levels.

P-A-T-S Pats Pats Pats!

2003-12-10T18:58:00.000-05:00

(Apologies to the J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets.)

Don't you just love Tedy Bruschi? Although I feel bad writing about the Patriots when Nomar's demise seems imminent. Sad.

Baby, it's cold outside, and it's going to stay that way for a while. I'm finding creative ways to cross-train, like snowblowing my driveway and cross-country skiing to the supermarket. I even took my first ever spinning class Tuesday. Talk about intense. If I had been on a real bike, I'd have ended up in Nebraska.

Back in the sneakers tomorrow, and we'll see how we feel about a 10 mile race with the rest of the challengers Sunday morning. The DFMC group run last Sunday was obviously cancelled (due to, I don't know, maybe the 36 INCHES OF SNOW) and I'm still eager to meet up with the team.

How cold is it?

2003-12-02T13:35:00.000-05:00

It's so cold that I have muscle-flavored popsicles where my quadriceps used to be. It's so cold that the figure drawing dummy on my desk just knitted himself a sweater. It's so cold that my neighbor just used his last match to light a fire in his fireplace instead of a joint. It's freaking COLD.

It's also snowing.

I did get in a chilly, hail-filled, long(ish) run on Monday, skirting the North End and the campus before trudging up the waterfront. Still exploring loops around Burlington and tackling the hills along the lake. I've got my first team run with the DFMC folk on Sunday in Waltham, and I'm looking forward to seeing a few familiar faces.

Gobble.

2003-11-28T09:31:00.000-05:00

Must... stop... eating.
My family made short work of all 24 pounds of Thanksgiving turkey. And potatoes. And crab cakes. And pies. Good grief.
Dad and I knocked off the Gobble Gobble Gobble in respectable fashion Thursday morning, and Dad got props for his "old school" race t-shirt by several other runners. I also nearly took out an old lady who tried to cut in front of us in the trough. A merry holiday all around.

Taking a climbing class on Sunday (x-training!) which means I'll have to work in my long run on Monday, which means no Patriots game to listen to on the radio.

Not that kind of hash, fool.

2003-11-18T19:06:00.000-05:00

Not much has transpired in the past few days. I'm sticking to my training schedule (albeit the low end of it) and scamming free passes to every Burlington area gym whenever I can. My right knee is still out of whack, but maybe Santa will give me a visit to a chiropractor for Christmas.

Because I am lame, and because I use Friendster, I hooked up with the Burlington Hash House Harriers last Sunday. (Not that kind of hookup, although, with this group of folks, that wouldn't be out of the question.) Hashes are not condusive to healthy training -- witness the mass quantities of beer consumed during and after an event -- but there is running involved, and it's tons of fun. It's kind of like a cross-country practice on acid. I highly recommend hashing to any quasi-athlete out there who appreciates fine spirits and dirty jokes.

My next-door neighbor just put up Christmas lights. (Come to think of it, they're white and blue, so I suppose they could be Hanukkah lights.) It's a nice reminder that the holidays are coming, and that I will once again be shopping for gifts on December 24.

Al Roker can go to hell

2003-11-07T19:19:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so, New England. It's a really beautiful part of the country, with interesting people, fine cuisine, and a moderately paced way of life. So, why don't more people live here? Because the weather sucks. That's why.

(By the way, my constantly shifting level of affection towards the weather will be a major theme in this weblog.)

Went for a 4 mile jog in freezing drizzle on Tuesday, and woke up the next morning with a raging sore throat. Good times. I shook off enough of this blasted virus for 2 miles today, but I still feel pretty lousy. So much for my enthusiastic start. But even though I can't breathe so well, I think the rest of my body is working out its kinks. If I can get rid of the cold by Monday, I should have just enough time to get myself in fine form for the Gobble Gobble Gobble on Thanksgiving morning.

I'm taking the GRE tomorrow, so once that's over, I can devote all my mental stress to the marathon instead of wasting my energy worrying about academics.

Back in Massachusetts

2003-11-03T19:01:00.000-05:00

Went home for the weekend, which was great. Ate more food than I have in months, which was less great (though great at the time) because it put a crimp in my grand running plans for the weekend. I ended up cross-training on Saturday by speed-walking a 3 mile loop around Wakefield Lake with Mom and Tracy, then returned on Sunday and ran the same loop twice. Aches, pains, general cardiovascular misery, but it's getting a little easier. Just a very little.

The weekend held distractions other than food, including an inadvertent homecoming visit to the Crimson and a low-key campus show by Guster (or "Gustah" or "Gooster" as they are infrequently called in my neck of the woods).

Mom looks great, and her hair is growing in nicely. In another week or so, she'll have a cool-looking Halle Berry close-crop thing going on.

Props to Al Roker

2003-10-30T10:54:00.000-05:00

The weather is on my side. This is a Good Thing.

I got my pre-season training schedule a few days ago... here's the plan for Monday through today:
Monday: x-train or rest
Tuesday: 2-3 miles
Wednesday: rest
Today: 3-5 miles

Accordingly, here's what the weather has been like:
Monday: rain
Tuesday: sunny, 50 degrees
Wednesday: pouring, drenching rain
Today: sunny, 55 degrees

Did a half-hour spin around my neighborhood this morning. Other than the dead, wet leaves everywhere, it was pretty damn perfect. I'm situated in a good spot where I can choose to do flats or hills, and the street I live on is just barely long enough for a victory sprint at the end of a run. It's very "Chariots of Fire."

In all honesty, I feel out of shape, physically and mentally. I haven't done any serious running since my knee surgery in July, and all the regular aches and pains came back today... the fallen arch (yes, arch, singular, which means only half my footfalls are akin to agony), the ligament I somehow injured playing soccer in Oxford, the generally lousy cardiovascular health. But I have to say: back at this altitude, running feels very familiar, and a hell of a lot easier.

And so it begins.

2003-10-28T09:51:00.000-05:00

This is ridiculous.

Far in the future, VH1 will air "I love the '00s," and minor celebrities will wax rhapsodic about their "blogs" that they never wrote in. And they'll probably bring a camera to Hal Sparks' nursing home to get his commentary.

I feel like an idiot.

And yet, this blasted thing has a purpose.

In 2002, I ran the Boston Marathon with the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team. Against my better judgement, I decided to do it again this year. Henceforth, this "blog" will serve as my online training/fundraising/musing journal. For those of you who remember my e-mail updates from my last run with the team, I promise that this will be just as witty and profound, but on a much more regular basis. Also, things will be spelled correctly.