harder faster better stronger

Comrades, you are in my sights.

THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR FIRST RACE are their own brand of happy insanity. Like doing a run for the feeling you get hours later, you do your first race for the feeling you get in the days that follow. It doesn't matter the distance or how fast or slow you went. Cross your first finish line, and you'll have weeks of unexplained strength, unreasonable optimism, unbridled genius, and the hail of really good ideas around every corner. Within hours of finishing comes your first eureka: Can. Run. Ultra. That afternoon, you attempt a handstand push-up against the living room wall and seriously consider a second career as a world class circus performer. By the evening, you want to call the White House and see if anyone wants to come over for beer and poker. And of course, you want to run. More. Further. Longer. Faster.

In the weeks following my first race, my exaggerated enthusiasm for life in general expressed itself mainly in the form of mileage. I ran like crazy. Finishing a marathon race with more than 20,000 other participants in the nation's capital got me excited about running in a way I never was before. After a forced 18 hours of recovery, I leapt out the door, returning to the roads and fields again to visit my new favorite activity. My usual 6 miler with the occasional weekend 15 miler became my usual 10 miler with the regular weekend 20 miler. I began to keep track of 7 day totals — something I'd attributed previously to only fitness freaks and geeks. I ran twice in one day. I went as fast as I could. I began vigorous hill training. I ran like a giant child, happily sprinting across miles of dirt and pavement without a single dark thought. Final stretch sprints became mandatory.

During the latter half of my runs, I constantly recall the pivotal scene from the movie Gattaca, where the loser asks the winner of an extreme ocean swimming race: "How did you do it? How did you have the energy to make it back to shore?" and the winner responds calmly: "I never thought about making it back." Right On.

— liberally adapted from an article by Marc Parent,

Runners World, November 2010

of beer and burn

Rather than getting stored as fat, the main fate of alcohol is conversion into a substance called acetate.

A car engine typically uses only one source of fuel. Your body, on the other hand, draws from a number of different energy sources, such as carbohydrate, fat, and protein. To a certain extent, the source of fuel your body uses is dictated by its availability.

In other words, your body tends to use whatever you feed it. Consequently, when acetate levels rise, your body simply burns more acetate, and less fat.

The New Pornographers

Runners World is my new porn. 

For years I've read Yoga Journal and wanted to love it, wanted to want to read it, wanted to grok the articles... but they all seemed a little wishy washy. It is, after all, a magazine for women.

Now, I am actually compelled to read Runner's World, and the stories of hardships and victories, both physical and psychological, make me shed tears of empathy and joy.

How to Train for an UltraMarathon

ULTRA!

The Race of his Life

What he didn't understand was that the pain of running was beginning to replace the pain of being ignored and unloved. What he didn't understand was that he had developed an enormous capacity for enduring emotional distress, and that somehow that had translated into an equally capacious tolerance for grueling corporeal hardship. What he didn't understand was that he would spend the next decades seeking out more and more punishing physical challenges, and that those challenges would change him in ways he could never imagine -- and still doesn't totally comprehend.

— Runners World, Nov 2010

meaning of marathon: inner game

"The marathon is about being in contention over the last 10k. You have run all the strength, all the superficial fitness out of yourself, and it comes down to what you really have inside of you. To be able to draw deep and really bring something out of yourself is one of the most tremendous things about the marathon." 

—Rob deCastella

Marathon: COMPLETE

Karl & I just before the race

Yesterday I reached the goal of all this training, and ran the Marine Corps Marathon alongside my brother in Washington DC. We were graciously hosted and supported by my father, who ran the same marathon in 1992.

We began our marathon weekend with a great pasta dinner together, "carb loading" on Saturday night. On race day the following morning, we got up promptly at 5:00am and donned our running gear.

rising up at Pentagon station

The metro was completely packed with thousands of runners and supporters, so much so it felt like the NY subway at rush hour!

3:59, baby!!!

We walked our way around and made it to the rally area around 7:00am, then Karl and I began our walk to the starting line. We got there just in time at 7:45, and with Karl's encouragement, I went all the way up to the 3:59 marker (they group marathon runners by expected finish time so that the faster people can cross the starting line first... I was really justy hoping for a 4:30)

They fired a large Howitzer cannon, and the race began! It took us only about 3 minutes to cross the starting line together, whereupon Karl took off like a rocket at his natural fast pace. I caught a glimpse of him about 10 minutes later and sprinted forward to say hello. We ran briefly together before he went fast again.

I was feeling really great and ran the first 4 or 5 miles on my toes, top form. About then I paired up with a beautiful runner all clad in pink who was coincidentally a professional pace setter for other marathons. Pace Setters are runners who are very experienced and run every mile at a perfect clock pace so that others can track alongside them and keep a steady pace. We chatted as we ran for about the next hour but I was feeling so good I just took off and ran ahead. She caught up to me again around mile 17 and we chatted for another hour or so. I was feeling so good that I could do anything!

The crowd was truly amazing and seemed to have boundless enthusiasm, cheering and waving signs for every runner. I high-fived so many people I lost count, including a bunch of little kids and even a golden Buddha, which is a blessing of good luck. There was also more than a dozen live bands that played on the sides of the course, from bluegrass to folk to rock and roll. It was really fun dancing to the beats of those bands as I ran, especially the 3 or 4 full on marching bands with drums and brass sections.

At mile 21 my running mate warned me we were about to hit the 14th street bridge, a nasty hill. I kind of laughed, because I love up-hills and trained strong on them in Atlanta. I was actually feeling so good that I suggested we sprint up it for kicks. She looked at me and said "look, I'm running two more marathons in the next 10 days, this is just a training run for me, but you go ahead and enjoy yourself." So I did. My mistake. I sprinted up that bridge, and continued the sprint down the other side, and halfway down got this nasty cramp in my gut, like I hadn't had since high school. I saw my pace mate pass me on the far right in silence. My legs began to hurt badly. By the time I got to mile 22, with a man waving a sign saying "Make Crystal City Your Bitch!", I was smiling yet suffering. My pace reduced to the dreaded jog. At mile 23 I was passed by one of the "groundpounders" a group of 60+ year-olds who have run the Marine Corps more than 25 times each. I knew all I had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other. I concentrated completely on that task.

Right after the groundpounder encounter though, I heard someone yelling my name. I looked around and was so happy to see Karl, headed up the other direction (this was one of the rare places on the course where the route goes 2 ways on a street). That re-inspired me. I put my all into it, grunting with each and every footfall.

I finally made it back to the start line, which meant less than 3/4 mile to go to the finish at the Iwo Jima Memorial. Someone yelled "keep going! you're on track for 4:00!" This really got me excited. 4:00 was my original goal for this marathon before I even started training, but I had long ago given up on it when my average training pace stayed completely steady at around 10:10 minutes / mile.

But then before I knew it, I saw the finish line, and this huge lightning bolt of energy shot through me. I'm even crying now as I write this, feeling the pure passion of that moment. I began an all out sprint to the top of the hill, almost pushing over some stragglers in the process. I entered the final 100 yards and they had massive football stadium bleachers on either side, and all the crowd was screaming and cheering. I launched across the finish line and let out a great barbaric yawlp!!! I was in total shock. My legs couldn't stop moving, yet I almost felt like I was completely detached from my body. I shared a hug with a young runner named Katie, got my medal, and then re-united with Karl for some cheer and brotherly camaraderie.

My body was going into shock and I needed to lay down but we were in the momentum of the human funnel and had to keep walking inside the fence until we got out. 15 minutes later we found a nice patch of lawn on a hill and I completely passed out for a timeless moment of post race bliss.

So that was my race. Those last few miles were actually the hardest thing I've driven myself to do in my entire life. I accomplished my internal goal of completing the marathon while running the whole time, even while drinking water :) I even accomplished my lofty goal of 4 hours. And I really cherished the experience of sharing that with my brother. I hope our family can run many more in the future!



OO-RAH!!!