Twizzlers

Bob -

I am sitting here eating Twizzlers and contemplating the last few weeks.  The bag says they are a low fat snack.   It also says the serving size is three and each serving is 120 calories with total fat at 0.5 grams.  I have a 12.4 ounce bag and there are supposedly 10 servings.  My question to the bag would be as follows...who the hell could just eat three Twizzlers?  I wouldn't even bother opening the bag to eat three.  In fact, I expended about 350 calories opening the bag and 500 walking into the Dollar Store to buy them.  That means I would be in calorie depletion mode just getting to the Twizzlers.  So,  10 servings is 1200 calories and that is about what I ate.  Plus, I'm a runner and an eater.  One reason I run is so I can eat, which gets me to the true point of this story.  Yesterday I did a half marathon.  The Philadelphia Rock and Roll Half Marathon.  I signed up for it a long time ago as part of my training program for the full marathon.  As I have complained many times before, I do not feel my training has gone that well.  I have bonked on many occasions on my long runs.  My running partners mock me and call me Sissy McBabypants because I cry a lot.  I now have that on my forehead.  It says, "Hi, my name is Sissy McBabypants, kick me."  I have a rather large forehead and I can fit lots of verbiage upon it.  It is not a thing I am real proud of, but it came in handy in the fifth grade play I was in.  The play was about Abraham Lincoln and the Gettysburg Address.  The person who played Lincoln could not remember the whole thing, so they had me play the role of a podium and they printed the whole think on my forehead.  It took hours and it hurt after awhile, but I think that pain readied me for the pain of training for the marathon.  I cried as I prepared to be a podium and I cry as prepare to run, but I still do it.  That is one thing that I have learned.  I can keep going through the pain.  Most of it.  Sometimes I quit, but I usually find a way to make up for it and cause myself pain.  Like riding a bike up a bunch of hills or running up and down stairs.  I truly feel that cross training plays a huge role in training to run.  Running long distance requires enduring some pain over long periods of time.  I feel beating the crap out of my legs in workouts other than running can really help my running.  Which may bring me back to my original point.  We ran 10 miles on Friday.  I could barely move on Saturday.  I did 1.5 miles and felt like I was going to die.  I seriously thought about not going to Philly.  Why drive an hour and a half to go feel like crap for 13.1 miles.  I can do that at home.  A good friend said, "you paid for it, you will be fine, you should just do it."  No pressure, but those words made sense and since there were other friends going there, I thought it could be fun.  But, I was not expecting much, just to finish and get a good workout.  I got up a four a.m. to drive down.  What started as a bit of dread turned out to be a good ride down.  Dark, no traffic, good music on the radio and just some alone time to be in my head.  Then I got to Philadelphia which is mostly a beautiful city.  The day was perfect.  There were thousands of people and bands playing and the aforementioned running friends.  I was still not expecting much and a bit nervous, like I always am before a race.  I have the same thoughts of not being able to finish, even though I have run these distances a bunch of times now.  When the race started I decided to go slow, or at least what I thought was slow.  I rarely look at my Garmin when I run.  I go at a pace my body allows.  I have gotten to the point where I can tell how much I can take and if I am going to burn out.  After a few miles, I noticed that I was passing many people, not many were passing me.  I felt so much better than I thought I would.  I looked at my watch and decided I was probably going a bit too fast and that maybe I couldn't keep it up for the whole time.  So, I backed off a bit and then found myself picking it up again.  At the 10k mark, my time showed that if I kept it up I could possibly get a pr.  I had to tell myself that I still had a long way to go, not to get carried away.  To run smart, which is not my strong point.  I kept feeling good.  I actually thought about picking it up more to bust out a great time, but I'm glad I didn't, because at mile 9 things started to hurt.  I took a GU at that point.  I always have to resist the urge to yell, "Guuuuuuuuuuuuuu!" at the person handing that stuff out.  I did that at a triathlon once and while I found it very funny, they apparently didn't.  I got blank stares and I think someone called 911.  There was a group of cheerleaders and someone with them dressed as Mickey Mouse.  I high fived Mickey.  Mickey and the GU gave me some energy and the next few miles were good.  Then, the last mile.  The longest mile ever!  It wouldn't end.  People are cheering and I knew the finish line was looming, but it never seemed to loom.  I felt a twinge in my calf and thought I was gonna cramp up.  Thoughts of being that poor guy that cramps up and crawls to the finish line were in my head.  Except in my case, I was sure that instead of being inspirational and worthy of a YouTube video, I would just crap and pee my pants and lay there in a disgusting heap while children cried at the sight.  Luckily, nothing happened.  I finally made it to the finish line and looked at my watch.  I not only made it to the finish, but I had a new pr.  I really and honestly could not believe it.  Overall, I felt good.  In all, I am just amazed at what hard work can do.  To make it 13.1 hard miles without my legs dying is something I would not have thought was possible a few years ago, maybe even a year ago.  As hard as running is, this is fun.  To see how your body can react to training and mileage.  I am intrigued to see what I can do.  How fast I can get at a somewhat advanced age.  I also can't believe that in a few weeks I am going to be going twice as far as I did yesterday.  I cannot wait to get to that finish line.  I hope I can.  Now, back to those Twizzlers.