Randomn3ss

The following is an account of my run at Broad Street.  My company, City Sports, sponsored me in the race.  This blog also serves as a run down of running gear and shoe tech, so if it doesn’t sound like my normal writing, it’s not supposed to.  However, it’s an honest account of one of the best days I’ve had in a while.  Read on. 

On Sunday, May 4th, I completed the latest accomplishment in my running life: my 2nd Broad Street 10 Miler benefitting the American Cancer Society.  It was the 29th running of the race through the City of Brotherly Love… and some parts of the city that lack brotherly love. Part of what makes this race so cool is that you get to run through less-than-friendly parts of the city without being chased (although technically we were, by 20,000+ people).  I was joined/cattle prodded by three City Sports colleagues and one City Sports colleague by way of marriage.  Miraculously, we all paced together, told stories, laughed, held back the inevitable torrents of urine, and beat our goal by two minutes.  I finished at 1:28:55, beating my previous year’s time by 20 minutes.

Oddly enough, I thought I was in crap shape this year compared to last.  Last year I ate healthily all week, didn’t drink or smoke for two weeks leading up to the race, and went to bed at 8pm the night before.  This year… oh this year was quite different.  This year I went out every night before the race, forgot to quit smoking (I’m a dumbass, I’m well aware, thank you), and drank 6 beers with Josh and Jovanna Everetts the night before (who finished at 1:38:32 and 1:28:54, respectively).  And shit - I did one hell of a lot better and ended the race smiling like I needed a helmet.  Making the experience even sweeter was the participation of two newcomers to Philadelphia, City Sports and running.  My friends MP and Kelly popped their Broad Street cherries, with MP finishing at a blazing 1:28:31 and Kelly at 2:00:37. 

The real speed demons of City Sports were Keith Zluky (1:13:12) and Suzanne Donaghue (1:29:22).  However, the unofficial South African queen of Broad Street is running royalty Margot Fleming, who finished at 1:11:13.  If you saw a black mohawk whiz by you in Newtons, that was her.

As for me, I outfitted myself in the Asics Nimbus 9, Under Armour Heat Gear tights, Nike socks (camo colored, holla!), a City Sports tech tee with a sweet CS logo (thanks to Chrissy up at corporate for hooking me up!), and UA running hat.  I originally was going to run in the lighter Saucony Grid Sinisters, but decided that they were far better as a 5k shoe than a 10 mile shoe.  The Nimbuses weren’t as heavy as I expected them to be through 10 miles and my feet weren’t sore by the end.  The weather began at a cool 55 degrees, slowly warming up to the 60s by the finish.  The UA long tights were perfect though (I was used to running in them in college), keeping my legs cool but comfortably compressed (I love UA though, if anyone from them is reading, feel free to add me on as a wear-tester!).  I didn’t used to buy into the dri-fit/techwick/polyesther deal, but after running in cotton for so long, this stuff really is nice.  I sweat a lot too and this stuff kept most of the moisture from my body.  If you can afford it, I say - run it in.

After Broad Street, we *drove* to our friend Kelly’s house for some post-race barbequeing and comsumption of beverages.  Many beers were harmed during this time and much stretching was done.  Worst part of the day?  Walking up the steps to the bathroom.  Best part of the day?  Crossing that finish line.  Thanks to my mom for being there at the end of the race; to KAM and Justin for providing the afterparty; Josh and Jovanna (and Denali) for letting me invade their house for the weekend; for MP just being MP; and for everyone from the Sports and the Illadelph who sent their congrats and well wishes my way.  You guys rock… and you should totally run with me next year.

Below: some pics from the post-race barbeque…

Props to Matt for sharing this insane video of Ken Block driving the DC Shoes rally car down a mountain while snowboarders do tricks around and on the car. Ken even takes the care over some of the bigger jumps right along with the riders.

There’s a new guy at my gym. He’s older, maybe in his 60s, and walks for an extended period of time on the treadmill. Unfortunately for him, he’s unknowingly drew my ire because he uses my treadmill. Yes, it’s mine. I run on it everyday at the same time so it’s mine. Even the guy who monitors the floor knows I get upset when someone else is on it. It happens to be the only one without a stupid TV attached to it. I hate those TVs - you can’t see yourself run and it makes me dizzy. And yes, I like to look at myself in the mirror because I am vain. I’m not the only one who hates the TVs; there’s another runner who comes in after me and I usually hold the TV-less treadmill for him and he takes it over when I’m done.

So back to the new guy… he walks on the treadmill for what seems like an eternity. I’m not hating on walkers - I understand that one day I’m not going to be able to run. Walking is healthy and beneficial, and I can’t be mad at that. However, I see no reason for him to walk on MY TV-less treadmill. If you’re just walking, you don’t need to watch your form or have to worry about speeding up and smacking your face into the screen. In fact, I would think maybe some mindless TV would help with the monotony. Or, he could just, you know, walk around his house for 30 minutes (he could even throw some steps in there for some hill training, unless he lives in a ranch). And, I mean, I can’t say anything to the guy because, yep, I’d once again be an asshole. But I am trying to jet out of work early and he is still there before me!

It’s now a battle. I am going to buy some camouflage dri-fit clothing to blend with my surroundings (and also keep my body temperature stable and wick the sweat away). I will learn his habits and schedule and use that to make sure that my treadmill is protected from the likes of him. I will slowly force him onto the TV-laden treadmills and indoctrinate him with pro-TV propaganda. Then I will mark my territory by peeing on the TV-less treadmill and will growl when the staff comes near to kick me out.

When in doubt, urinate.

I was lifting at the gym today when something jogged my memory. I think it was the exercise, specifically - a modified version of the bench press. This certain technique helped alleviate the stress on my right shoulder which suffered from overuse. My right arm is… or was… my hitting arm; I was a volleyball player.

My uncertainty with the verb tense illuminates the overall confusion I have over this fact. I haven’t played volleyball in over a year. Not outdoor, not indoor, no pick-up or beach… nothing. I played this sport for 10 years and it’s no longer a steady part of my life. I sweated and pushed, got injured, cried, had my most memorable victories and friendships as a result, but also my most crushing defeats, along with life lessons about relationships. And you know what? I don’t miss it one bit.

My chest kind of tightened as I wrote that.

I’ve said it to myself and to my friends who have tried to get me to play. I haven’t written it out, really. On a certain level, I miss the actual sport - the skill, the body movement, the hustle. I think it’s more muscle memory; I miss the familiarity of motion, unlike how I am now as I pursue new sports like roller derby and surfing (both of which I’m horribly bad at). I think I miss instinctive motion and kinetic confidence. Of course, I had my fair share of screw-ups, but those could all be laughed off.

But do I miss the game? I don’t miss bickering with my doubles partners, I don’t miss competing against bitchy, untalented women who played with dubious skill at Horsham. I don’t miss the constant self-doubt and punching lockers after losing (I almost broke my hand at the Bryce Jordan Center at Penn State doing so my senior year of high school after a particularly bad match). I don’t miss the drama associated with throwing 6 oversized Amazon bottles full of estrogen on a court and expecting them to instantly become a well-oiled machine (toss spandex into the mix and the clusterfuck deepens). I do miss thrusting my hands up and stuffing opposing players. I miss diving and getting that dig up. I miss hitting off Dee (my partner in crime and one of the best technicians I’ve had the pleasure of playing with). I miss shittalking with Jackie (hell, I miss Jackie). I think I long for the feeling of victory but am tired of the pain… both in my shoulder and my ego.

I’m tired. I spent 10 years of my life (I would insert the phrase “blood, sweat, and tears” here, which would be true, but also hackneyed, and we don’t like hackneyed here) on this and maybe it’s time to be done. As I worked my shoulder out after the bench press, I recalled warming up before a match. That reminded me of hitting, which reminded me of jumping, which made me wonder if I could still play… and where the nearest league was. I hesitate… and hoped that writing this would help, but I’m still a bit confused as to my relationship status and volleyball. I feel like volleyball is my boyfriend who I’m in a long-term relationship with, and although I know I don’t want to marry it, I see no reason to break up either.

Although… playing beach is a good excuse to get away to an island. We’ll see.

From digg,

A French exhibition slam dunker, Kadour Ziani is best known as one of the pioneers of Slam Nation. He is recognized throughout the world for his amazing dunks, such as the double windmill, the 360s over people, and the “kick the rim”.

You watch the video and tell me,

Personally, I’ve seen better from the AND 1 Mixtape Tour and even some of the highlight reels from the NBA.

Others worthy of seeing, the 720,

Dunk over a 7′2″ French player

Things I know about myself. I’m out of shape. My body is a wreck. My body hates me. I hate how my body looks. I’m sick of living in a state of chronic soreness. I’m ready to start making a change. Nothing new here, I outlined this months ago in my list of happiness and followed it with this update on how goals were and were not progressing. Last night was part of the moving forward process that I’ve been postponing for so long.

I’m over-weight and out of shape due largely in part from being involved in three serious car accidents over a four year period, starting in 2000, each one worse than the previous. The final result was spinal surgery in 2005. During that 5-year period, most of my active life stopped, gaining weight was bound to happen. Additionally, muscles like my hamstrings turned to steal and have become very painful for extended walks. At one point in 2006, during some routine physical therapy, a doctor told me that it could take two to five years to get just my hamstrings back to what they should be for someone my age, late 20s. Now I freely admit that I’ve not done everything I could have or should be to stay in shape, nor have I stretched on a normal basis. This is my fault, no one else’s, no excuses.

Several friends and co-workers have suggested I try yoga, I’ve for the most part always dismissed them for various reasons, none of which deal with any logic, only my own insecurities. For this reason, I’ve made the choice, so far, to teach myself via DVD, and got a copy of Yoga 101 Workout - Props to Poses (Daily Routines/Beginners), by Lilias. The choice to the home route has ups and downs. For me, the positives are,

• Not feeling embarrassed
• No need to drive anywhere
• Can do it anytime I want
• No per-session cost or monthly fee
• Work at my own pace, rewinding if I need to

Some of the downsides are,

• No one to guide me
• No one to ensure I am doing poses or stretches properly
• No one to motivate me to continue

Weighing the options and being tight on money, I am going to stick with the DVD method for at least now. If I find this is something I really enjoy 1-5 months down the line, I’ll look into a studio.

I went into this experience last night with an open mind, although I still don’t belive in the “inner peace” portion of Yoga, at least not yet. For me, this is more physical and the ability to capture back what I used to have. Last night I started the first portion of the DVD and the 25-minute session seemed to fly by. There was only one pose that I couldn’t do and I felt both stretched and relieved at the end of the 25 minutes. I wouldn’t say it was fun, but I also don’t think that it is so mind numbing or physically difficult that I can’t do this 3 days a week, maybe more. Outside of my dog wanting bothering me while I was laid out on the floor, I was comfortable doing everything in the first session and felt that I did each to the best of my ability.

This is one of the times when you really get out what you put in, if you cheat or give a half-assed attempt, only you suffer. I’m aware of that, and think that it is, at this point, worth investing an hour or two a week into.

This past weekend was big in the world of distance running, with both the Army 10 Miler in DC and the Chicago Marathon. However, the 35,000 person Chicago Marathon took over the news with its record 300+ 911 calls and several race-related deaths. I’ve seen the coverage of the race, which of course was long and held on an extremely hot day in a city environment (questionable air quality, not-so-windy in the Windy City) and I have to say that I am incredibly frustrated with how the coverage has been handled.

When you enter a race, you sign a waver basically relinquishing any ability to sue the Marathon, its sponsors, or organizing bodies for whatever malady may fall upon you during the race. You attest in these waivers to the fact that you are a healthy, prepared human being who is acutely aware of the hazards involved with hardcore distance running. Yet, pundits blame the race officials for neglecting to have enough medical care, water stations, and basic aid for the myriad runners dropping from dehydration, heat exhaustion, and general fatigue.

I did not run the Chicago Marathon so I cannot verify if these claims are true. However, as an athlete who participates in distance runs, I have to say that runners take these risks upon themselves. Distance running is not a sport for the casual athlete; it is physically and mentally demanding, with serious consequences for those who are not in peak condition. I know that even those in peak condition can fall lame in races (people have freak heart attacks all the time; it happened at Broad Street too, tragically). But I have seen a lot of unprepared individuals sign up for and compete in marathons. For people with “something to prove,” at least in terms of physical fitness, the marathon is like Mount Everest – you want to conquer it simply because it is there and because it’s the pinnacle of its sport. Rich people pay to be basically carried up Everest, resulting in unsafe conditions, several deaths and other casualties, and an aesthetic degradation of the accomplishment itself. Summiting Everest has been cheapened because the achievement is no longer reserved for the world’s most revered climbers; it’s open to anyone with the power of a blank check. The marathon has become the same thing – it’s a mere status symbol and no longer held at the level of respect that it used to be, and no longer reserved for the most physically-conditioned racers in the world.

I, for one, have no desire to run a marathon. That’s not to say I won’t some day, but it will be because I have accomplished all of my goals at the 5k, 10 mile, and half-marathon distances. Not every person is built for that extent of distance racing. Marathoners complain of black toes, toe nails that fall off, bone spurs, and shin splints; I tell them that maybe they shouldn’t put their body through 26.2 miles of hell. I think people who complete marathons, especially that elite few who can complete it in under 3 hours, are amazing individuals who deserve the accolades placed upon them. However, most people should not be competing in them; if you’re not in peak physical shape, you should not be an example for other who want to make distance running their goal. The marathon is not a race in which you want to promote the theory that “Hey – if I can do it, so can you!” Because, let’s be serious, most people can’t – and shouldn’t.

I think that people should shoot for what is a reasonable fitness goal for the individual. Just because the marathon is one of the furthest distances that one can run, it shouldn’t be every distance runner’s goal. 5ks, 10 milers, and halfs can be amazingly fun and rewarding, not to mention are less stress on the body. I don’t mean to hate on marathoners – I already told you how amazing you guys are – but my intent is to warn people that serious injury and even death are possible in the world of distance running. If you think the day is too hot, don’t run; if you can’t breathe, stop or race walk until you catch your breath. Push yourself mentally, but listen to your body. If you can’t hear what it’s telling you, you need to spend more time training and finding your limits so that you can out-train them.

Godspeed, my fellow athletes… and stay safe.

About half an hour ago, I completed the Army Ten Miler in Washington, DC.  Myself and 26,000 runners looped our way through the nation’s capital, beginning at the Pentagon, passing the Washington Monument, Capitol building, and running through the Mall.  This race kicked serious butt. The course was challenging, especially with the mind-fuck of the Mall where you see runners on the opposite side of the street and secretly hate them.  I started to hit my wall at mile 9, the first half of which was uphill and suuuuuuuucked.  However, it ended on a downhill, then a straightaway filled with cheering spectators, so I was able to sprint out the last 400 (this after practically race-walking the first 800m of mile 9 like a 60 year old woman).  I finished in a race time of 1:57; my chip time will probably be about 20 minutes faster, since I started in heat 2.  I’ll post an update in the comments section with my actual chip time when I receive it.

Alright… for you non-runners out there (and for those of you who watched me suck my way through a pack of cigarettes at Grape Street this past Thursday), allow me to explain to you what would push me to run in 80 degree heat for 10 miles with 26,000 sweaty people.  First, and I said this in my Broad Street blog, runners are hot.  In this case, there were not only hot runners, but really hot Army men everywhere.  It was a girl’s dream, had I not been running the race for my manfriend 1st Lt. Kent who’s ass is coming home from Iraq this week.  Second, the comraderie of runners is amazing!  I love being seeded with the 9-minute milers, because that’s where the fun begins.  You hear slogans like “I’m not here to race, I’m here to run!,” everyone is over 100 lbs, and you’ll probably see most of them at the bar afterward.  I met a father of two from Harrisburg with whom I chatted before we approached the start line.  I was stretching and noticed we were both wearing the same socks from the Broad Street Run.  We talked for about 20 minutes, trading stories (mine about the Army and being 24 in Philly, his about being a dad, both of ours about being runners) and starting the race with a firm handshake and a truly meant “Good luck!”  I thank him, because whatever nerves I had were gone at the start.

Finally, this race had a corp of athletes that you wouldn’t expect to be runners, much less runners who make it through 10 miles of rolling streets.  These guys were disabled veterans, running with Missing Parts in Action.  Today I witnessed several single and double-amputees run in and complete a 10 mile race.  Everytime a pack passed them, applause and a resounding cheer of “HOOAH!” rose.  They are the reason that I run - because I can.  I don’t have to be the best, I don’t have to run a marathon, but I can run because these guys gave their all for this country and can still run.  I admire their strength and could only hope to match that strength myself.

How do I feel?  Awesome.  I’ll feel better one I have a cheesesteak and a beer and my ass is sitting in front of a TV watching football.  My right IT band hurts like hell and was part of the reason I turned into a race-walker momentarily.  But I feel awesome.  I had gotten so bored with training and fell into a routine of being lazy, but it’s races like this that renew my passion for running.  I proved to myself that I can do it, and I officially kicked the Army 10 Miler’s ass.

Rage on…

Some personal thanks: City Sports 19th St (esp Kate “MF’in” Jersey), Maggie and Keli for letting me stress out/crash on their couch, Victoria for not letting me get drunk on Thurs (love ya girl!), 1st Lt. JDK, Ray who ran his 10 miles carrying the American flag, Ari, Mom, Caitlin, Katie, Tina, and everyone else back in the Illadelph who gave encouragement before I left!  You guys rock… and you’re running it with me next year!

Some people are just crazy.

33 year old Austrian Markus Stoeckl has smashed the World Speed Record for series mountain bikes. Stoeckl, nicknamed “Hercules” because of his 6′4″, 220 lbs. frame, broke the 8 year old record by 14 mph on a 2000 meter, 45 degree run in the Chilean Alps. Because of the extreme cold, Hercules had to hold his breath for the 40 second duration so his helmet didn’t fog up.

Source: Wired

Not to put a damper on his record breaking accomplishment, this is what it looks like when you crash going that fast.

These players should never stand next to each other, yet they do.

« Previous entries