Race day report

Well, today was race day.  I am going to give a full and detailed report of my run.  But first, I'm gonna need to talk about what happened after the run.  Most of our running group went out for lunch afterwards.  I have spent this week eating much healthier and I actually lost about 4 pounds.  In the long run, this is going to be great.  Not sure if it sapped some of my energy for the run, but that is an excuse for another story.  The point of what I'm trying to get across now is that I ate way less food this week.  Then today, I ran a half marathon and went out to lunch.  In my mind, the eating healthy and the 13.1 miles meant that I could eat whatever the hell I wanted today.  In the olden days, people would go fairly long periods without eating much.  Then finally, they would catch a bison or an elk or maybe a huge tuna and they would eat the heck out of all that.  This is where the words feast or famine came from.  People were hungry and they were famished and then they caught a warthog and really ate it.  The stories of this always made me hungry.  Stories of roasting a warthog over an open fire on a spit.  Reading of our forefathers and mothers chewing on a greasy leg of an albatross made me really hungry.    Anyway, if we can flash forward to today, I ordered a pierogi casserole.  I think the recipe for this was as follows.  Take 100 pierogies.  Add copious amounts of cheese and onions.  Stuff them in a casserole dish and serve to the masses.  I think what the recipe was calling the masses, were my love handles.  Let's just say they were happy.  My love handles are saddle bag-like remoras of skin and lard.  In times of strife they feed off the potato chips and gravy drippings that don't make it into my mouth.  I think they call this a symbiotic relationship.  I don't know because I haven't taken science since 1956.  All I know is that my love handles need me to drop food to them and I need them for this particular post.  In all actuality, I would like to get rid of them but due to the pierogie pie thing, that won't happen for awhile.  I'm going to try and upload a picture of the casserole, but if you can just imagine a throw pillow of cheese, potatoes and pierogie, that is what you have.

Now for the race.  I felt pretty good for the start of it.  Then for the next 13.1 miles I felt like shit.  When I crossed the line and stopped, I felt good again. 

I have felt like I have been overly sappy lately, but here is the reality of today.  I saw people do incredible things.  Lots of people getting pr's.  People busting their butts to get across the finish line.  People doing whatever it takes to get over the line.  People helping other people to get to the line or get medical attention.  People running that should not have been running.  Gutting it out.  Friends coming out to cheer us on.  The moments of silence for Boston before the race brought tears to many people's eyes.  When I say silence.  I mean there was not a sound.  It was really something.  You could just feel the emotions the crowd was feeling.  I have incredible running friends.  This is one of the few times that I didn't care that much about my time.  Not that I didn't try, I was spent, but just finishing was enough.  To sum it all up, it was one of those days that will leave an impression on me.

In conclusion, it was a good day.  The bad news for my love handles is that their remora days are over. Their days of wine and pierogie pie is done.  I'm on a mission to do some serious stuff.  

Addendum to the story that should not be told

Bob

I went back and read my last post and I have decided that I sound like a big, whiny baby.  Boo hoo baby pants.  While I was angry at the time, I want to make it clear that I was not crying.  I was having a tantrum, but there were no tears.  If there were tears, and I am not saying there were, they were extremely manly ones.  Like hail they would have been.  Killer hail shooting out of my eyes.  But, it did not happen.  It bothered me that I did not run in an event that I really looked forward to.  I also want to make it clear that I do not blame running for my problems.  I had some knee issues before and particularly doing some of the tasks of my job.  If I were to eliminate anything out of my life it would be work.  Particularly the part of my work that entails kneeling down and fighting to put a lazy susan into a cabinet.  Other kneeling things hurt, but that was the one that got me good.  Shooting pain in the side of my knee.  Like a hot knife.  Felt like I could not get up.  My first thought was I was not going to be able to do the marathon.  Then it happened again and again.  Each time it happened I got up and it felt better.  It got to the point where I would kneel with my left leg sticking straight out.  If my customer would see that action I would typically get, "and you are going to run a marathon soon?  Like that?"  And I would be all like, "well, I ain't gonna be putting in a lazy susan when I'm running, so I should be fine.  And by the way, shaddup!"  My philosophy on running is this.  Running does not hurt runners.  Runners hurt themselves.  Usually by doing something dumb.  Going too far, too fast.  Going too far and too fast.  Or just plain going too fast or too far.  There are times when we step on something, or fall down a hill or get eaten by a bear, or some other thing that is beyond our control, but typically it is from doing something we should not be doing.  Running has been some of my best therapy, physically and mentally.  I was in way more pain before I started running regularly.  The time I hurt myself the worst while running was when I made the mistake of feeling too good.  I was 49 and I felt like I was 20 that day.  I was cruising up and down some hills.  One more, and then one more.  This is great, I said.  The next day I woke up with the worst pain I have maybe ever had.  Could barely walk.  I have told that story before and it could be told again another day, but I said to myself to be careful when you feel too good.  Don't overdo it.  One reason I believe I still have all my fingers is that everytime I turn on a saw I make sure to think where my fingers are.  To concentrate and respect what can happen if I let my mind wander when I am cutting something.  I try to do the same thing when I run.  Not that I don't give it my all.  I do.  Especially in a race.  But I don't do some of the speedwork I would like to do and I don't jump over some stuff that I really want to jump over.  In summation and conclusion, running is my go to therapy.  As much of the other stuff I do, this is what I set my mark to.  The goals I have in running keep me sane.  Life is tough, running makes it better.

Shoes

Bob -

I'm am going to get off the story of me for a bit and talk about me for a bit.  Not young me, or middle me, but me right now.  Monday, October 1st me.  I still find it amusing writing a blog, because when you write one, you assume people are going to read it.  Then, you assume people aren't going to read it.  Then you find yourself saying to people, "hey, I'm writing a blog."  And they go, "about what?"  And I go, "Well, it is about running and me...and Ed.  Running."  And they say, "really, how do I find it?"  And I say, "go to blah, blah, blah dot blah blah blah, but I write really stupid stuff, so just don't think I am that weird, it is just the stuff that goes on in my head."  Then I realize their eyes are going into the back of their head and it is time for me to throw up and leave.  I wonder if Hemingway went through this stuff when he told people he was writing a book about fish and the sea.  We will never know.  Due to the fact that he is dead.  When I go to the great running track in the sky, people can refer to blog post #61 to see what made me tick.  Again, that would be assuming anyone gave a crap.

So, here is the point of this whole thing.  I have waited too long to get new shoes.  Mine are literally falling apart.  There is almost nothing left of them.  I do like minimalist shoes.  I have the Saucony Kinvaras.  I love them.  I can't wear anything with much build up in them.  Ever since my plantar's issue, I have been wearing these and Vibram's.  Vibram's for some training and the Kinvaras for most of my runs.  I taught myself to run more on my forefoot and to be less of a plodder by wearing these shoes.  I believe they helped me to be able to keep running.  Actually, I know they have.  This is my second pair, but I got really attached to both of them.  I still have my first pair.  There is not much left of them, yet they are very comfortable.  If I got new shoes this close to the run, I could really screw myself, but I have a picture in my head of my shoes just falling off me at mile 23.  Like Forrest Gump and his braces.  Would I bust out and go faster or would I have really bloody feet?  Being that I am a cabinet maker and an amateur cobbler, I could probably fashion some shoes out of roadkill.  A rabbit on one foot and a deer on the other.  Three miles of this would get me some attention and maybe an endorsement or two.  Start my own line of shoes.  Nourse Roadkillers.  The logo would be guts.  The motto would be, "If you don't have Guts, then you don't get glory."  I think I just figured this thing out because I really am a bit worried that my shoes will tear, but now the thought of wearing a deer and a rabbit sounds pretty good.  And the inflow of money sounds even better.  I can't wait to get this marathon over.