Aches and Pains

I’ve been struggling just a little (not that that’s anything new). Last Wednesday I did 9 miles, and my left knee was weird. It sort of felt like there was a bubble behind my kneecap. I don’t know what that means, or even what it could mean. So I just ignored it and went on. After the run I was hobbling a bit. But by the next morning, it was as good as new. So I guess it was nothing.

There have been a lot of little aches and pains and oddities like that. They are part of the reason for doing this blog. I don’t know how any of that works. “That” is how my – or, I suppose, any – body operates under the stress of running. It’s quite a pounding, particularly on the pavement. (Some of my “customer friends” at REI tell me I should be trail running. Makes sense to run on a softer surface, I guess. But I’ve gotta do at least one “real” marathon. Then we’ll see what happens.) But I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it. And I think I work things out better if I write them or talk about them, as opposed to just sitting thinking about them. I always admired Hercule Poirot, because he could just sit there and figure stuff out. But I’ll never be Hercule. So I’m writing the blog, not expecting that anyone will ever see it (how would anyone just accidentally come across it with the whole internet out there?) just to vent and work through thoughts and feelings and ideas. Not that I’ll type them all….

Well, I did a 20 mile run yesterday. Actually, to be honest, I did about a 19 mile run and about a 1 mile walk. I just ran out of gas. I didn't eat anything, and I learned that I can't run 20 miles without eating something. What I craved after about 15 miles was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I suspect that might not be the best thing. But I've got to figure out what will work. I think my training has been fine. I'm feeling pretty much fit for the marathon. EXCEPT that I've got to learn how to refuel during the run. I suppose I could just do a bunch of GUs. I kinda think that's what a lot of people do. Somehow it doesn’t feel right. Not natural, somehow. I’m not “morally opposed” to GU. I’ve used it a lot on the bike. (Actually, to be precise, I prefer PowerGel. The texture is thinner and it goes down easier.) But it somehow seems like it would be better to refuel from food. Silly, perhaps. I know it would be a lot easier to carry a few GU packets than a PB&J or two.

I have a completely black toenail. I never thought about having “Morton’s Toe.” I think that’s the name of the situation when “this little piggy stayed home” is longer than “this little piggy went to market.” Homebody toenail is black. It’s been getting darker for a couple of weeks now. I suppose pretty soon it will come off. Most runners (it seems) have lost toenails at one time or another. It is a little tender, but not so much that it bothers me. I’ve thought my shoes fit pretty well. I guess not so much. Either that or even when shoes fit, if you run 18 or 20 miles, your longest toe is going to hit the front of your shoe often enough to blacken the nail.

Shoes. That’s been one of the biggest issues I’ve had. Am I a pronator? Am I neutral? Do I need “motion control” or “stability” or “cushioning?” I have no idea. The running shops are supposed to help with that. But I think I got bad advice.

(Slim Whitman is yodeling on my Pandora bluegrass station. I think I’m going to do a thumbs down. How much difference does a thumbs up or a thumbs down really make when the computer chooses future songs? I don’t know.)

(I’m always discovering more and more and more things I don’t know.)

I ran into a chiropractor the other day who tells me I definitely don’t need the motion control shoes Run On! (the running shop) recommended for me.

(Pandora decided on Hank Snow after Slim Whitman. That’s not exactly right either, but it’s OK.)

I’ve been through 6 pairs of shoes since I started running, and I’m not satisfied that I’ve got the right thing. My favorite ones are a pair of Brooks. But they STINK!!! I mean, I’ve always had smelly feet. I know what that’s all about. But this pair of shoes is something special. Even I can’t stand to be in the same room with them. It’s remarkable.

I really need to get on the schoolwork. So I’ll stop. At least this one wasn’t at midnight. It’s a good thing no one’s going to read this. They wouldn’t be able to. Looking back over this post, I suppose the best I can say is…. ADD!!

I really want to talk about my Forerunner and races and other things. I’ll get to them sometime.

(The Stanley Brothers now. They are what I was looking for when I set up this channel. Old traditional root high lonesome bluegrass. I just love that music. I could listen all day. But I can never listen around other people. They always complain. Why is that?)

(I feel so different from most of the world. It’s lonely sometimes. (I'm sure it's the same way everybody feels sometimes. Which means one of the ways we're all the same is that we all feel different? Is that one reason people are drawn to religion?) I know there are millions of people who love bluegrass like I do. But I don’t know any of them. Last weekend we did the “Eagle Rock Marathon.” (a story for another time) There was this old guy (75?) in the campsite next to us playing a banjo. I left my friends and went over to listen to him play. John came with me. He played and I asked him to play a bunch of songs and he knew most of them and it was great. He was there hunting and had shot a "big hog" with a black powder rifle earlier in the day. I gave him my address, and he said he’d send a CD. But most of my friends just complained about the noisy banjo.)

(No one wants to listen to opera, either, now that I think about it. But saying that makes me feel like I’m being smug. “No one else appreciates music the way I do.” Bullshit. Get over yourself, Patrick.) (Is this whole blog thing just being smug? Wanting to hold the microphone?)

(But it’s true that almost no one wants to listen to either bluegrass or opera with me. Smug or not.)

(Laurel Canyon Ramblers doing “Heaven Bound” now. Great bluegrass gospel.)

Anyway, I promise next time I'll stick to the running.

Why did I start?

I don't know.

That may seem silly. Or perhaps not. I don't know that, either.

From the outside looking in, I suppose it must be obvious why I started running. My 50th birthday was April 16. I started running on April 18. Ergo, I started running because I had my 50th birthday and was grasping for something to make me feel young. Right? Well, maybe. But in fact -- though this sounds weird even to me -- I didn't make that connection till later, when someone suggested it to me.

It's been a long while since I've paid very much attention to birthdays (my own and others, though there are one or two I remember). And this one was no different. At least on a conscious level. Sure I was remembered by my sons and a couple of other folks. Chad and Tara took me out to dinner. But I didn't have any other out-of-the-ordinary events associated with the birthday. I just sort of went to work and went on with my life. As I always do. It's not sad. It's just the way it is. In fact, I assume it's the way I like it, or I would have done something differently. I could have reminded people it was my birthday and I'm sure someone at REI would have had a party. I didn't remind them because I didn't really think about it.

But perhaps subconsciously I was thinking: "Oh, hell. I'm 50. I'm old now. How am I going to show myself and everyone that I'm not really old. Hey! I'll run a marathon!"

Does that make sense to you? Do you think those things without knowing it? The mind is a weird thing. Maybe that's how it was.

So maybe I started because I was feeling old. But maybe it was something else. I was definitely feeling fat. About 8 years ago I lost about 50 or so pounds (I was never sure exactly how much it was. But it was in that ballpark.) I kept it off for a long time. But then about 2 years ago I started slowly gaining it back. I stopped eating as well. I stopped riding as much. The weight crept back., until I had regained about 25 pounds. I wasn't happy. I didn't feel right. My cycling clothes (yes, I wear spandex cycling kit -- but just when I ride; I don't go shopping in it) were way too sausage-tight. I knew it was time to do something.

Plus, I met someone really nice, and started a "relationship" for the first time since the divorce. She was great. Attractive, intelligent, thoughtful, a terrific athlete (finished 2 Ironmen (is that the plural?)) and so on. Everything I could wish for. Well, I managed to screw that up pretty quickly, but at the same time I think I finally got the last burst of motivation I needed to do the things I needed to do. I'd been headed in that direction, but sometimes I take a little time to actually get started. It's a big commitment. If I started something like that (training for a marathon) and couldn't hack it, I'd be worse off than if I'd never started.

Oh, well, it's late again. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to figure out a better time to do it than midnight. I don't even know if what I've just written makes any sense. But I think I'll hit the "Publish" button anyway.

And I haven't even gotten -- yet -- to all the running-specific things I wanted to talk about when I started this blog.....

First blog post ever...

Why am I doing this? Especially why am I doing this right now? It's almost midnight and I'm really tired. I have to be up pretty early tomorrow, but not TOO early. But I've been thinking about doing this blog for a little while now, and decided tonight was the night to start.

I was finally pushed over the edge of starting by my run tonight. See, I'm training for a marathon. My first marathon. I've never been a runner. Not only that, but I've been a sort of anti-runner. Always accused people running of doing it only because they must have lost their bikes, and suggesting gently that they are crazy for doing something that is so painful and so high impact on bones and joints.

But this spring I woke up one day and decided I was by golly going to run a marathon. The White Rock Marathon here in Dallas. There's more to that story than I'm going to write tonight. I'll catch up with all that stuff one day soon. For now, though, I'm just going to say what I absolutely have to, and then stop this foolishness and go to bed.

I've been running a lot (yes, I know "a lot" is relative) since April 18, 2007, the day of the first run of my life. I think I've made good progress. I've gone from being able to "run" about 100 yards that day back in April, to doing an 18 mile "double loop" last Saturday. And I've gotten faster, of course. It's because of speed that I just had to start tonight. On my regular runs of 8 or 9 miles I've been completely happy with an average pace of 9:25 or 9:22. I went out tonight after work, having gotten off early, at just after 7:00 p.m., and I felt pretty good. It was a wonderful night. Low 70s and not much wind. So I went down to the lake on a whim. (I wouldn't normally drive down to the lake on a night like tonight.)

Well, I started my run, and finished the first mile in 9:06. I felt good. (Jack Johnson is singing "Imagine" right now. My son Paul gave me an iTunes gift of "Instant Karma: The Amnesty International Campaign to Save Darfur" the other day. It's a bunch of John Lennon songs covered by various people. Some of it kinda grates on me, but some of it is brilliant. You should listen....) The next mile was 8:36 and I still felt good, but assumed that I'd have to cut it back. I decided, though, to keep up the pace as long as I could.

Weirdly, I continued to feel good. I could maintain! Why? How was it that I could hold this pace all of a sudden? I didn't and don't know. I suppose just the cool weather? But when I turned around at 4.5 miles, having decided to do 9 miles, I was still going strong. I felt kinda funny a few times, but didn't have to slow down. I finished the run averaging 8:37 for the 9 miles. The last mile was 7:53.

To some of you (not that I think anyone is actually reading this.....) that may not sound fast, but for me that's blazing speed!!! I vividly remember the first time, just a few months ago, when I was excited to have finished a mile in under 11 minutes.

So, I'm amazed that I was so fast. And feeling good about that, I decided the time was finally right to start the blog I've thought about. It will give me someone to talk to about running.

There's a lot more I want to say. But it's too late to say it tonight. So for now, I'm signing off.

Patrick