I seldom travel for races. I can count, on one hand, the number of times that I’ve slept in a bed, other than my own, the night before any given race. It’s not that I don’t like to travel — it’s just that a run becomes a priority, so it takes a considerable amount of time away from visiting a given place. Disney? Was great, but I ended up going to bed at, like 8:00 the night before the run, and spent race day in a sore fog, walking all about the park.
So, without traveling much, I know the local races about me quite well. The inaugural year of the Hershey Half Marathon was the first year that I got into running, but the race sold out before I had a chance to register. The next year, I signed up as soon as registration opened, and I have run the race every year since.
So, while I don’t generally travel for races, I love playing host . . . and, this year, I convinced a friend to travel from Canada to stay with me for the running of the Hershey Half Marathon. This meant spending the day before a half-marathon, again, at Hershey Park. Which, again, might not be the smartest idea — but it sure was fun.
When I was a bit…fluffier than I am these days, I was seldom cold. I mean, I’d be able to go most anywhere in shorts & a t-shirt, and, if I wasn’t wet (and therefore had water freezing against me), I’d be fine. These days, that is no longer the case.
The temperature was actually dropping from the relative warm that I met with the dog walk. That dog walk convinced me to wear shorts . . . fortunately, I packed pajama pants and a sweatshirt in my truck, just in case . . . I put them on.
I was still cold.
Eventually, the race started. I went my best wishes to the friends around me and took off.
And here is where I start thinking really good things about the Harrisburg Marathon (10 days from the day I’m pressing publish on this post). See, well, I don’t remember a whole lot about this race.
I accidentally pulled my headphones out of my iPhone, so I had to manually restart my music at one point. I ended up being surprised by the start (I was expecting a few extra minutes to move into a faster corral), so I had to deal with more crowds than I would have liked, right from the start. But, I hit my pace right after mile marker one.
I can, honestly, say that I didn’t even notice most of the mile marker signs.
I was able to say “thank you” to most any volunteer that I saw.
High-fives to any child/student along the course who would stick out their hand were delivered.
The hills, or lack-thereof, didn’t bother me.
The cold, once I started going, was of no consequence.
I did manage to see a friend running the other way during a small portion where runners approaching the 8 mile marker, and those just leaving the 9 mile marker, run past one another on the same road.
In short, I hit the “runner’s high” around mile 1, and it continued until the end.
I finished just shy of 1:50 . . . slower than the ultra-flat Philadelphia Rock & Roll Half-Marathon, but a good 30-seconds-per mile faster than I’ve previously run this race.
This was a warm-up for the Harrisburg Marathon. I have to say, for a warm-up run, it felt really damn good.
The other day, I came upon this article: Science Says You Should Start Your Workouts With Cardio at the My Fitness Pal blog. Now, I <3 My Fitness Pal -- if there is a tool that I can credit for why I believe I'm healthier, now, than I've ever been in my life, My Fitness Pal is that tool. But, there is so much about this article that pisses me off. First, it's a blog1, and, much like the haters in the whole #GamerGate sucktitude, because you have the ability to post means you have a voice — and that sucks sometimes.
First, the premise for the “best” workout seems to be what “increases your heartrate the least.” Now, if you’re a newbie to working out, this isn’t horrible advice, because you don’t know how hard to push your body – so, in theory, you can push yourself too hard, to the point of injury. And that would be horrible, especially for the fact that early injury might mean that you stop working out, altogether. But, well, I’m a believer that the more your heart rate elevates, the harder you’re pushing yourself, the more calories you’re burning doing the exercise, and the more calories you’ll burn while recovering from the exercise. Basically, as long as you don’t injure yourself, you should aim for the greatest increase in average heart rate during a workout.
Next is an item of actual safety. Lifting heavy is beneficial — it’s how you make yourself stronger, the fastest. Every time I lift2, I’m keenly aware of what I achieved the last time I worked out. If I my best set was a 275 pound squat for 5 reps, I’ll be thinking about that through my warm-ups, up until my heaviest set. Let’s assume, for the sake of simplicity, that you have a finite amount of strength in each muscle — well, if you do cardio first, you use up some of that strength — so, it’s entirely possible that I’m D-O-N-E after 4 sets at 275, just because of a run at the beginning of the workout. But, in the back of my head, I’m thinking “I did five the other day,” so I’ll try for one more . . . and introduce the possibility of injury by pushing myself too hard. I like to think that I know my body well-enough to avoid this, but, well, I can be stubborn when I’m asking of my own body.
So, in short, be cautious as to the source of an article — here, I simply don’t know what My Fitness Pal was trying to get across, unless they think everyone should be pushing themselves as little as possible, which seems beyond backward.
So, away from the My Fitness Pal blog & onto the application. The other day, I ended up in a lunch meeting. At the start of the meeting, I opened the app & logged everything that I was about to eat. This gathered some odd looks & a “why would you do that?”. Well, I do this to ensure that I’m keeping my eating in track. If I don’t consciously stop & think about what I think I’ll be eating, I’m likely to allow my eating to get out of control. While I think I’m disciplined enough to follow my body, I really don’t want to test the hypothesis. I log what I eat, every bite. Where possible, I log every bite before I eat it.
“What if you’re going to go over your calories?”
Well, at that point, I log, end up over my caloric budget for the day, and move on. I don’t stress over it. And then I showed the person a day where, despite “earning” 2000+ calories from exercise, I still went over my 3000 calorie budget, by an additional 2000 calories. In short, I ate like a pig for a day. The person, simply, didn’t understand why I’d log if I was going over.
My only answer was “if I don’t log when I’m going over, what’s the point of logging in the first place?”
Oh well, I’ll admit that logging is a pain in the ass, at times, but, well, I need something that keeps my eating in check. And this is what works for me.
Lastly, there seems to be a small, but vocal, minority of people who see their diet choices are superior to others. I don’t get this . . . everyone is on their own plan, with their own goals & methods. A snarky facebook post about the amount of sugar in a Pumpkin Spice Latte or the ilk — well, I don’t get it. I’ll fully admit that, since I’ve reduced the amount of refined sugars/flours in my diet, I seem to be making progress toward the body that I want, but, if anything, I feel stupid for this. The act of making dinner requires way more thought than the act of making food should require. I have to bring in my lunch, every day. I miss snacking. Choosing to eat one way or the other doesn’t make you superior to anyone. Now, if you bring in your lunches and then donate the money you’re saving to a food shelter? Well, maybe then, you actually do stand on a moral high ground. But, chicken breast & broccoli, while delicious, does not a good person make.
This weekend, I:
- Hosted out-of-town-guests
- Wrapped up the run of Jesus Christ, Superstar at the Carlisle Theatre Company, which included shows on Friday & Saturday nights before a Sunday matinee
- Went to Hershey Park with the family & bunches of other friends
- Ran a half marathon (more about this in the next day or two)
- Introduced the game Munchkin to a group of tween/teen boys
I’m tired – I think I’m just coherent enough to write so that everything makes sense, but not quite with-it enough to actually care about anything making sense.
- I’m tempted to eat lunches of roasted beets & asparagus, and only roasted beets & asparagus, every day. The reason? If I were to end up in a bad accident and I ended up unconscious in a hospital bed, the head-scratching that severely discolored, foul-smelling urine collected from a catheter would be amusing. Except that, well, that might lead to tests that are completely unnecessary.
- I commonly think truly morbid thoughts like the previous entry. There may be something wrong with me.
- Well, yeah, there’s PLENTY wrong with me. So I don’t even really know why I’m writing this.
- I’m wickedly excited for Thanksgiving. Yeah, I know we have Halloween to get through, and Thanksgiving is just a lead-in to the over-blown Christmas-extravaganza-season, but I like the the concept of “lots of food, lots of family.”
- The relatively mild summer combined with, seemingly, exceptionally low temperatures for early fall has me truly concerned about what this winter might bring, temperature & precipitation-wise.
- For someone who really tries to “eat clean,” in spend an exorbitant amount of time fantasizing about all-you-can-eat buffets1.
- Over the crazy weekend, I never had time to shave my head, meaning the hair on my head has moved from “prickly” to “soft & fuzzy”.
- I have most of my Christmas shopping done.
- Benjie, the new dog, does not understand why squirrels do not want to play with him.
- Pip, the cat, has essentially become an outdoor cat since Benjie’s arrival.
- I drink a lot of green tea while at work.
- I’m kind of excited about the prospect of the Royals winning the world series.
- I’ve been thinking about what I want for dinner as I’ve written this entire post.
I continue to come to grips with the term “busy.” I am busy. I know this, but I do not always accept this. My struggles with acceptance, though, sing louder more at this time of year, than any other.
I love fall . . . the air just feels cleaner as the nights start to get colder, but there’s still some warmth in the air. Honeycrisp apples are tasty and abundant. The network sitcoms all debut. And football is in full swing as the best baseball of the year is on.
But, alas, everything seems to be passing me by.
This road to where I am was gradual & inevitable. It started with the original, first generation TiVo, because I was too damn lazy to actually work my VCR for recording. So I started recording the shows that I wanted to watch (catching sports live, always). A general dislike of commercials meant that, even if I happened to be home, I’d watch something else rather than a show as it was broadcast.
Rainy days were spent simply catching up on the TiVo.
The TiVo died as the newfangled cable boxes started to include hard-drives.
Then kids came.
Then Netflix started streaming.
Where it used to be that a night home alone would mean that I’d fall asleep to a west-coast baseball game, a TV turned off is far more effective than anything else in getting my
spawn children to sleep (and, well, getting my kids to bed, more often than not, leads to me falling asleep, myself).
I will always say that being busy is better than being bored . . . but, last Sunday, I’ll admit a great deal of jealousy to the Walking Dead crowd. I have gotten rid of cable, but I do try to keep up with shows as I can.
Back, when my workout strategy was “cardio, and then more cardio,” this time of year would also denote the time that I’d start giving up on running outside, and I’d watch an episode of a show, each weekday, from my spinning bike in my basement. There may have been a day or two, at particularly pivotal portions of my following Walter White’s saga that I’d find myself “not feeling so hot” and then catching 8 episodes of Breaking Bad at a time.
But, as my life exists now, I just can’t get into things as I once did. And I honestly miss the draw of a television cliffhanger, where I’d spend the day after a particularly good episode of a show I enjoy wondering what might happen next.
And we won’t talk of beer-fueled nights willing a long-hit ball to hit a foul-pole.
Don’t get me wrong . . . I wouldn’t change what I have now, with televisions that play Justin Time more than the Yankees, for the world. But, I miss getting sucked into the boob tube like I once did.
- I shave my head. I do this not because it’s the “cool thing to do1,” but because I chose a preemptive strike against male pattern baldness. Also, I suffered from horrible scalpne and “letting my scalp breathe” appears to have fixed things.
- My beard is speckled with white. Lots and lots and lots of white. When I trim my beard, those white hairs stick straight out – this means that, if the light hits me the right way, my beard always looks wet, with droplets of water sparkling in the light.
- If I have a cold, I feel hungover.
- If I have an actual hangover, I feel like death.
- I do not need to drink to the point of “drunk” to achieve a hangover the next day.
- If I do drink to the point where I get “drunk,” the hangover last for days. And since this is a real hangover, I feel like death for days.
- I actually lift with my knees because I live in constant danger of throwing my back out.
- Sometimes, when I sneeze, I feel like, had the exhale been the slightest-bit more explosive, my back would crumble to bits.
- I always keep a tube of chap stick on me.
- If I dream at night, I dream that I’m napping. Apparently, my subconscious knows that naps are not for me.
- I can tell you all about the various types of life insurance, and why I have two distinct life-insurance plans for myself.
- My body does not allow me to sleep past 6am. If my children sleep past 6am, and I don’t need to be up, I won’t get out of bed, but I’ll be wide awake, sitting in bed, wishing I could sleep.
- I’ve chosen to sleep over having sex.
- Sugary cereals & pop-tarts hold, absolutely, zero appeal to me.
- I want to eat my broccoli.
- I find whatever excuses I can make to include “reading more” in my life.
- I actively add to the list of shit that I need to get done around the house.
- Often, I chose to listen to classical music. I do not have any take on the pulse of the modern music scene. I used to watch the Grammys, just to listen to the most acclaimed music of the past year, but even that confuses me.
- I can’t tell you the last time I’ve seen a movie that was nominated for the “Best Picture” Oscar.
- I can no longer just “go out and run” or “play a pickup game of basketball” or anything like that — the task must be scheduled, and I need to plan the rest of my day, accordingly, to ensure that I don’t crash before my kids that night2
- I stretch after I exercise. If I don’t, I’m sorry the next day, and, commonly, for days.
- I actually care about to what uses my tax dollars are put.
- I’ll choose to watch the news over a sitcom or cartoon3
- The lead guitarist for my rock band up & quit on us . . . not knowing if we’ll continue blows.
- I’ve been taking karate lessons with CJ, and we’re both really enjoying it. Next week, however, is testing week and his four-year-old self doesn’t have the form required for the next belt down yet. Both his instructor & I believe he’ll be better served waiting until the next belt test before testing for the first time, but I’m not sure how he’ll do when he sees several of his white-belt friends displaying yellow belts.
- Taking karate has me feeling a bit like Kramer from Seinfeld, in that I’m taking beginner lessons and am with a bunch of kids. The concepts & moves? They’re quite easy for me . . . though I’m finding that I’m as limber as freshly cut timber. Seriously, I couldn’t do a split to save my life.
- I need to fit more yoga into my life.
- Leila continues tap & ballet dance, but I’ve yet to catch a practice of hers . . . to say that I’m eager to watch her recital is an understatement.
- With Halloween around the corner, CJ has expressed interest in being Dr. Venkman . . . which means that I need to figure out either a Marshmallow Man or a Slimer costume for myself. The La is leaning toward Ariel, despite being a mermaid last year.
- This weekend, if the weather is crappy, before I head out for days full of musical mayhem, I may be demolishing some furniture that was built into my basement and, therefore, cannot easily be removed. Yay, sledgehammers and axes!
- If I clean up my basement as I want it (though I still have plans to install a wet bar at some point . . . that’s a ways off), I am giving serious though to getting RockSmith for the XBox 360 that resides downstairs . . . as it stands, right now, I can fake my way as a guitarist (I’m a serviceable bassist & keyboardist), but I’d really like to get to the point where I don’t have to think about how to form a chord, and then place my fingers just right, and then go . . . and I just don’t have the patience to actually sit down to do it — but a video game might be able to fix that. We’ll see. In either case, a less cluttered basement may mean that I make more use of my mancave.
- There may be changes coming to my job situation, in the near future . . . changes that I’m excited about but, at the same time, scare me.
- That said, the draw to say “fuck it” with the computer stuff & dive in, making myself a personal trainer is growing. Of course, to do that, I’d need paying clients, and I’m a bit shy on those, but I am actually talking myself into the fact that I might be able to make things work — maybe as a side business?
- But then I’m about to enter a truly busy period of my life — I’m not looking forward to the schedule I’m looking at for the forseeable future:
- 5:00am: Walk the dog1
- 5:30am: Bodyweight strength training circuit
- 6:00am: Dress the kids while attempting to let them sleep.
- 6:30am: Make coffee, shower, dress
- 7:00am: Out the door for work
- noon: Workout
- 4:00pm: Leave work, scavenge something to eat
- 6:30pm: Rehearsal
- 11:00pm: bed
- Oh yeah, there’s a new dog at casa de Batzer. Benjie is a mutt — some shar pei . . . and a bunch of other stuff. He’s super sweet. But very active. Very active. And loves his morning walk . . . so much so, that, whenever he determines that it’s just about time to go, he’s in my face. Normally, this is right around 5am, as my alarm goes off. Sometimes? It’s just after midnight.
- “Clean eating,” however one might define it, is great. But leaves one wanting to smack their coworkers for eating Doritos (that said, I don’t miss bread nearly as much as I thought I might).
While I like to say that I blog about everything in my life, this blog is the
MisAdventures of Daddy Runs a Lot, and, well, running is a big part of my life. Last week saw me mentally preparing myself for the start of the fall running season: two (maybe three) half-marathons, a full marathon, and a 5k to close things out.
You’d think that someone who calls himself Daddy Runs a Lot would, in fact, run a lot. But the truth is that I’ve been running a whole lot less than normal. While I’ve been running less-frequently, though, I’ve been training to make myself a better runner. Yes, the contradiction is evident. But, my plan has been to make my body stronger. And, as I make myself stronger, maintaining my body mass while replacing fat with muscle, when I do run, I’m “a better, more-efficient machine.” The first test was yesterday, for the Philadelphia Rock & Roll Half-Marathon.
If I had to define my training plan, leading up to this, it was “equal number of pull, press and leg bodyweight exercises,” with actual running as a complete afterthought. Most every morning, I wake up & do pull-ups, chin-ups, parallel bar dips, and one-legged squats. Most every lunch, I’m either doing the same (replacing the dips with one-armed push-ups) or doing a bunch of burpees and then holding yoga poses. A few evenings a week, I’m then taking karate with my son. Running has, truly, been the afterthought, despite the fact that, well, I consider myself a runner. And I really hope to break the four-hour mark in the full marathon when I run the Harrisburg Marathon in November.
Sunday was the first test of my plan.
Some of my friends, however, came up from Florida to run this race . . . which is great & everything, but I wouldn’t be a very good host without taking them out on the town. So on Saturday, we spent the day at Hershey Park. Walking around an amusement park all day, the day before a big run was, perhaps, not the brightest of ideas. But we all had a good time.
Sunday morning, I woke early, picked up my friends from their hotel, parked my truck as close to the start as it was possible to park, met up with several other far-more-local friends before the race, and started.
The course was, as advertised, quite flat. Despite just writing a race advice post, I violated many of my own tidbits of
sage wisdom wiseassery. The day before the race, at Hershey Park, I ate buffalo chicken fries (I have a severe dislike of chocolate, so an abundance of sweets at the “sweetest place on earth” wasn’t an issue). I wore brand new shoes and a tech shirt that I had never worn before (to be fair, the shoes were a necessity because I had worries about the pair of shoes that I had been wearing surviving the race, as I saw several micro-tears along the stress points . . . and the shirt, well, it was a Batman shirt). I forgot my headphones, so the work I had put into my running playlist was all for naught (though, I’ll just be able to recycle it for my next half marathon). Despite all of that, though, the race was great. I had no gastro-intestinal issues to speak of. I do have two ugly blisters on each big toe and my nipples . . . well, they didn’t bleed, but if the race had been a half mile longer, they may have started to (so I’m incredibly aware of them right now), but none of that bothered me during the race, itself. And, as this was a Rock & Roll race, there were live bands playing so that rare were the times that I went without music.
I started the race with a slower corral than I should have, so I battled crowds through most of the run, but I managed to set a personal best in the distance – by almost 8 minutes (or over 30 seconds per mile) over my previous best half-marathon time. It was a good run – though I’m left with a few thoughts to ponder heading into my next few races.
Normally, I would say that the half-marathon is, actually, a 10 mile race . . . the last 3.1 miles, I’m used to being on cruise control. Now, maybe it’s because I haven’t been running as much, or maybe it’s because I didn’t have constant music with which to lose myself, but I was ultra-aware of mile-markers 11, 12, and 13. I don’t know if this is a good sign, or not, for the full marathon, where you almost *have* to get lost in your thoughts along the course – otherwise the “um, why are you still going” self doubt comes out & eats who whole.
The race was quite flat, but there was an uphill at the end. So, while I was giving *almost* everything I had, my 14th mile time actually looked a bit slower . . . this is a bit troubling, but, thinking back, I was still dealing with crowds and, yes, I was going up hill.
While I still felt like I had something in my legs at the end, I know I didn’t have another 13.1 there . . . part of me is worried about the way that will translate to a full marathon until I tell myself that, um, I was running a good minute per mile over the pace that I should be aiming for. If I were running just a little bit slower, who knows what would have been left in my legs.
So, I’m happy to say that I made it through. So far, my “don’t run quite as much” plan seems to be working just fine. The next few weeks will have me running a bit more, though – I’m hopeful run the hardest 2-mile stretch of the Harrisburg Marathon (with a flat one-mile connector) 7 times to get a moderately-difficult 20+ run one evening in the next few weeks. That should cease any/all fears of being able to complete the distance in my head.
More than a great race, though, I got to meet up with some great friends, and I had a wonderful weekend.
My next race, back at Hershey Park, for their half-marathon, will be far hillier (though not incredibly hilly), but I hope to match my time.
So, my original plan was to blog every day this week. I had two vlogs in my head . . . and they’re still there. I’ll share them, eventually — but, obviously, I have not posted every day this week. But, do keep your eyes out for some fun posts in the near future.
Many years ago, I attempted my first metric century — 100km on my bicycle. I had completed a 25k ride on several occasions, always feeling that I had a “lot” in my tank at the end of each ride, so the jump to 100k, well, that would just be four of those rides – it would be difficult, but it wouldn’t kill me. I did a little riding as training & thought I was good.
I was wrong.
The night before the ride, I ended up heading to a party, drinking a few beers, considering it “carb loading” for the big event the next day. I had a nervous excitement that night before – kind of like a kid on Christmas.
The ride nearly killed me. I made it to the end, but that was, mostly, because I didn’t realize that the guy asking “are you ok?” from the vehicle would have driven me back if I had asked him. I was out of shape, I had under prepared, I had entered the ride with too much confidence (I still remembering choosing to power up an early hill in a high gear, rather than shifting to a lower gear . . . if it were the last hill of the ride, that’d have been perfectly acceptable, if I still had the leg strength to do so, but it was just stupid in the early goings), my gear was far from sufficient.
The next year, I rode the 100km again. But, this time, I had trained. I rode hills. I logged miles. I had a plan.
The night before the ride, again, I went to a party, but I had a solitary beer. I remember just, kind-of sitting around taking everything in. That I was confident doesn’t seem right here, though I believe the definition of the word holds true – I was confident that I was going to ride, and ride strong, and finish, and finish happily. While before I was over-confident, this time I was certain. I was the kid who didn’t have to stay up all night cramming for an exam because he knew everything that might be on tomorrow’s test.
I felt like Neo, after he figured out that he was the chosen one – there was still shit to do, but it was just a matter of getting it done, there was no question about whether or not I’d actually accomplish everything. The conclusion was foregone.
I’ve felt this way on very few occasions in my life, where “today” was something to get through before “tomorrow’s success,” where the entire world seems to just slow down.
I’m starting to feel this way for this Sunday’s run.
A half-marathon is a distance that I’ve always just felt that I could “pull out of my ass.” I mean, I’ve run 26.2 four times, so far . . . but, honestly, I’ve never felt good or confident at the end of a full marathon. But, at the end of 13.1, I’ve felt that I’ve “given the course all I could give” while also “not feeling like absolute birdshit,” which, if you’re not an endurance athlete, well, I don’t know how to describe how those aren’t mutually exclusive, but, trust me, they aren’t.
But, even though the distance isn’t worrisome, it’s seldom that I head into the event feeling good. In the back of my mind, fear usually lingers.
Last weekend, these doubts started to work their way to the forefront of my mind — I hadn’t been running. Despite working out regularly, I hadn’t asked my body to do anything “active” for more than 40-45 minutes at a time . . . nevermind the better part of two hours that a half-marathon will take. So, with a few hours to kill on Monday, between work & symphony rehearsal, I set out to run. I went to a hilly 5k loop that I know well, and I ran it 5 times.
Since then, time seems to be slowing down.
I’m running on Sunday. I know I’ll finish, and finish well. It’s just a matter of filling out the details right now.
This week is the official start of my “fall racing season.” This Sunday, I start a series of races: two (possibly three) half-marathons, a full-marathon, and then a 10k, before I shift focus from running to swimming as it will, likely, be too cold to safely run outdoors, and I hate hate hate the dreadmill.
As I’ve been through a race or dozen in my life, I’ve picked up a lot of habits, whenever I run. As it seems that running is becoming more & more popular, I figured I’d share my
sage advice wiseassery for anyone who might not yet be familiar with what to expect at a race.
I was originally planning this as a completely facetious list, but The Oatmeal beat me to it, and did a much better job than I ever could hope to do.
- Do not wear the shirt from this year’s run. Yes, it’s great to have a brand-new tech shirt, and, oftentimes, that brand-new tech shirt will have a great design. But it’s tacky, the equivalent of wearing the t-shirt of the band whom you are seeing in concert. The only time you can pull it off is if you’re wearing the shirt of a previous tour, and you attended one of the dates . . . it’s cool to wear the shirt of the same race from the prior year, but this year’s shirt? Wait until after you’ve completed the race before you wear it1
- Do plan out your outfit the night before — know what you’re going to wear, and put it aside before you go to bed. Nothing sucks quite as much as rushing about, trying to remember where you put this thing or that thing.
- If you have boobs, do not use your running bra as storage. Boobs are wonderful, truly. I can’t say enough about them . . . but, as I understand it, women who lack pocket space will turn to the combination of bra & mammary glands as a method of carrying stuff. During a race, it’s good to have your car keys and a few bucks on you (I can’t imagine what else you might need to have – stuff for immediately after the race can either be left in your car or with a bag-check — I like to have a pair of sneakers & a really REALLY comfortable pair of hiking socks), but running for a distance with a car key pressed against your boob is just asking for a bruise the shape of a Nissan Sentra key. If necessary, buy a fanny pack, or (even better) one of those shirts with a tiny pocket built into it.
- Do not constantly check your phone during the race. First off, if a course photographer is being all ninja-like, trying to keep people from posing for a photo2, you’ll have pictures of you looking at your phone . . . and, no matter how fast you’re running, you look like you’re going slow when you’re looking at your phone. Next, you fucking need your battery life — even if you had a fully charged device, you had a few hours beforehand, and you’re probably running your run tracking program, and you might not be able to charge immediately after you’re done. Let your phone be.
- Do put thought into your runtime playlist. When reading the previous bullet, you might ask “well, how do I know how I’m doing as I run?” Now, most run tracking programs will give you a cue every x minutes or every mile or something, but I don’t use that, because I get into whatever I’m listening to. But, even if the course doesn’t provide regular feedback as to elapsed time, I can tell you how I’m running. See, months ahead of time, I start planning my playlist – for any race more than a 5k, I have the same routine: I have a target time, I arrange a playlist for 10% longer than that target time (for example, I’m running the marathon in November, I’m targeting four hours: 240 minutes, so I’ll plan a 260-ish minute playlist — I hope to not hear the very end). I always start out with incredibly mellow music, to remind myself to keep calm, there’s a lot of race ahead of me. I gradually pick up the pace to a series of what I can only describe as “jams,” pop music that I can sing along to that makes me happy — as I hit the runner’s high3. From the halfway point, I gradually switch to angrier and angrier music, with music that would make Mother Theresa want to kick puppies playing at my target time. Then, for that last 10%, which I truly hope to not hear, however, is sympathetic music. So, if I hit the halfway point, and my music is still mellow? I’m ahead of pace. If, suddenly, I hear “Everybody Hurts” by REM, I know I’ve missed my time – all without ever looking at my phone.
- Do not have a “loud” volume on your tunes. This is simply common sense — you need to be able to hear other runners. You need to be able to listen for road noises. You need to be safe, and that means your music can’t be so loud that you’re essentially, a deaf person on the course.
- Do pull your earphones from your ears before the end and give everything you have left. Where you “turn it on” is entirely up to you4 — and, yeah, “turning it on” is difficult at the end of a long run where you, simply, don’t have anything left. But people are cheering. Soak it in. You fucking did it. Go as fast and as hard as you can. Make it hurt. Because it’ll feel all better in just a little bit.
- Do not pull out your phone/watch to stop your run tracking at the finish line. We all want that ultra-accurate assessment in our run tracking – we hit the “start” just as we crossed the start line, let’s make sure we have the finish to the second. But, with the previous notes about pulling out your phone on the course, there are, typically, photographers everywhere at the finish of an event. Head through the finish, strong, and stop your tracked run a little while after. If you’re truly anal about your time, log in, edit your run, & make your run time match your chip time.
- Do smile as you cross the finish line. Again, photographers are everywhere. Also? don’t blow a snot rocket as you cross the line.
- Do plan your morning before the race starts. Most every race I run, I sleep at home the night before — so I have my routine: wake obnoxiously early, heat water & grind coffee, as my coffee brews, I shower & manscape, dress, drink my coffee, eat something protein & carbohydrate laden, drive to the start. My race, this Sunday, I’m staying with friends – so I’m going to have to change things up — and I, honestly, don’t know what I’ll do leading up (I’m not about to say “I’m going to take a long shower…and don’t mind the curly hairs in the shower drain when I’m done” to my friends, though they’d likely get a kick out of it) . . . but I can guarantee that, the night before, I’ll think through what I plan to do the morning of the race, just so that I have the semblance of a plan worked out in my “early morning brain”.
- Do arrive early. Save your stress for the race itself – don’t fret about getting to the start on-time. My worst run, ever, I arrived 20 minutes before the gun, picked up my packet, pinned my number on me, and got to the start just as the race started. I was frazzled before I started and, when it was time to run, I was already spent. Arrive early and chill. It’ll be worth it5
- Do not bring too much to check into the bag check. There is typically limited space — if you won’t have access to your car at the finish, bring only what you know you’ll need. If you will have access to your car, consider foregoing the bag check all together.
- Do not be intimidated by other people’s warm-up routine. I do not stretch before I run. I do not run wind sprints or do squats or stand on my head before a run. I do not warm up6. Typically, before a race, especially if the early morning is chilly, you’ll find me hanging out wherever I deem it “warmest,” preparing myself, mentally, for what’s forthcoming. Other people have their own routines — don’t feel the need to match what someone else is doing. Do you stretch before you run? Ignore the assholes like me that are just standing around.
- Do make small talk before & during the race. I love to meet new people and hearing their stories (I know not everybody is like that). If there’s a conversation going on that you’re interested in, jump in — everybody is awkward in places where the only thing bringing us together is a want to “make ourselves tired.” You might as well enjoy it.
- If you’ve never this specific distance previously, do advertise that this is your first time. “Hi, I’m Bob Fartknocker, and this is my first marathon8.” You’ll find like souls that are feeling many of the same feelings you are. And, if you’re talking with a race veteran, well, you’ll introduce nostalgia for them as they remember their own first time.
- Do not interrupt someone obviously trying to keep to themselves. I realize I’m writing this as the extrovert that I am . . . if someone is, obviously, hanging out trying to keep to themselves, let them have their own pre-race routine.
- Do not let your eyes wander. Look, runners have some of the most gorgeous bodies. At a race, no matter what your personal inclination, there’s plenty of eye candy. Don’t let your eyes pop out of your head.
- Do course research. I am horrible about doing this, myself, but it’s important — know if you’re dealing with a late hill, or “rolling hills” throughout9, or a flat course. It does you no good to go out hard, run a great race for 3/4 of the distance, only to have a hill eat you up at the end.
- If you’re concerned about racetime start temperatures, do not fret about bringing throwaway clothing. I’m saying this, specifically, because this Sunday, I’ll be running my race with several friends from South Florida . . . and current, morning Philadelphia temperatures are, um, a bit colder than they’re used to. Bring a big old sweatshirt and start the race in it (just make sure it’s not one that you won’t mind if you don’t get it back — many races will collect all clothing & make it available for pickup, donating anything that’s left) — once you’re warmed up, leave it at an aid/water station.
- Do hydrate. Generally, when I’m out on a training run, I don’t drink water . . . and this has lead to truly horrible training runs from time to time, but I know what my body needs. For most distances, however, unless I actively need to pee, and the thought of drinking water makes me feel like I’d burst, I grab a cup of water from every aid station and swallow what I can (without fear of spilling any on me – if I do, I do) as I run. For a full marathon, I’ll drink whatever sport drink they have for the first half – I’ll need those carbs at the end, switching to water at the halfway point.
- Do not litter. After every aid station, there will be some sort of trash can, at least try to throw your cup in it.
- Do not start too fast. You’ll be excited. You’ll want to win! Resist temptation — if you start out “too slow” you’ll just have more in the tank when you get to the end . . . but if you start out too fast, you just won’t have anything left10.
- Do thank the volunteers. They’re giving up their time to make sure you have a good race – show them your appreciation (also? unless you’re in the final kick, if you’re breathing too hard to say “thank you,” to someone, you’re going too hard).
- Despite the temptation & common knowledge of “carb loading,” do not change up your diet, significantly, the night before your race. Let’s talk about poop for a minute. See, I’m the father of two four year olds — I’ve been dealing with poop all of my life. And, for the past few years, I’ve been dealing with more than just my own poop. Everybody poops. Pooping during a race sucks (and yeah, the “runner’s trots” happen), as it means time is ticking and you’re trying to “drop the kids off at the pool” while sitting in a horrible chemical toilet. Do not do anything that may make your bowels hate you — if you have an established diet, do not deviate from it, the night before a race, because you just don’t know how it might affect you.
- If you’re a coffee drinker, do drink coffee in the morning. Coffee helps me poop. Though, when the portapotty line includes portapotties that have run out of toilet paper, it’s no fun hearing “oh, you’re a guy, you can use that one,” only to have to respond “um, no, I need toilet paper.”
- If you’re not a coffee drinker, do not start before a race. Again, see above about changing things when you don’t know how your body might respond.
- Do allow yourself to splurge after you’re done. You fucking did it. Bacon cheese fries with milkshakes, all around!
- Do not introduce any new equipment for a race (he says, not sure if his shoes will be up for the entire race circuit he has planned). Most big runs feature an expo, where you get to view all of the latest & greatest running gear & gadgetry. If you want to try something out, go for it . . . but wait for your next run after the race — keep with the “tried & true” equipment that you’ve been training with, for this race. Nothing sucks quite so much as finding that your brand new running shorts leave you feeling some chafing, or running an entire race with earbuds that just won’t stay in.
- If there are “anticipated pace” or “anticipated finish” stations, do follow them. This is a major pet peeve of mine. You’ve been training for this, presumably for awhile. You know where you plan to finish – why the fuck would you start with a faster crowd? If nothing else, run like an asshole11. What I find is that, most people who start with the faster crowds hang out in a crowd and throw their elbows, as if to say “I don’t care that I’m slower than you, you go around me,” which is fine & all, except that, in the early goings, it’s almost always crowded, so everyone ends up sacrificing safety & energy trying to get around these people. The thing is, despite the elbows being thrown by the slow walk/runners, I have, probably, 40+ pounds on most of them. If the elbow connects with me? I’m probably not the one who is getting hurt.
- Do not leave immediately after finishing. I used to be someone who would have to look at the course cutoff time before committing to a run. In the years that I’ve been running, though, my pace has gotten faster & I can generally assume that I’ll finish any race well before the course cutoff time. But, those runners that are racing their own targets and the course cutoff time, they deserve the same race experience as the elite runners. They deserve to throngs of cheering spectators as they end (because, all too often, they’ve been dealing with support stations that may have packed up before they should have, or support stations that are, plain, out of support materials). Stick around. Cheer for those finishing behind you.
- Do not fret when you’re passed. There’s something in all of us that, as soon as we feel someone coming up, we want to go just a little bit faster to keep ahead. Remember that this is your race, so run your race. Unless you’re trying to win, outright, repress that competitive vibe.
- Do not feel bad if you’re “running for the bling.” Hey we all have our own motivations — don’t fret if you signed up for this specific race because you liked the medal, or because you wanted to achieve a NerdFitness quest, or get the Fitocracy points. This is your race. Your motivations are your own, and they’re just fine.
- Do have fun. I mean, that’s why we’re waking up early & freezing our asses off & losing toenails & breathing heavy – this is fun, right?
I cannot deny that one of the greatest & most-endless sources of joy in my life is my kids. I love it when they learn something. I love the way that so much in life is new to them, and the endless joy & curiosity that comes with anything “new.” I love that, no matter how many times they may watch a movie, they’re *still* mesmerized & shocked by a plot twist.
And, well, I love the moments when they’re not too intelligent.
Yesterday was a fun day – we woke up and went to church for the first Sunday of choir (I’m the organist) and Sunday School. We then went to a pet adoption event to see if we might be ready for a new dog (verdict is yes – but the right dog for us wasn’t there – however, there was yummy yummy beer there, so it was hardly a wasted visit). On the way home, we talked about what to do next weekend (Duffy is heading out of town for a much-needed girls’ weekend, so I’m figuring out what to do with the kids – currently, I’m torn between any number of amusement parks, the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, Crystal Cave, or just hanging out with video games & movies) and, somehow, The La called CJ a butt.
In explaining that we don’t call other people names, CJ called me a butt.
I explained that, when we got home, each child would have to go to timeout (they’re four years old, so timeout means being alone for four minutes).
In all of this, I made it clear that I realized that they were “just being silly,” and I wasn’t taking away anything that they then wanted to do (CJ wanted to play video games, Leila wanted to watch My Little Pony) – but they had to have a timeout first.
We got home. I parked the van. I got out of the van and dropped some stuff off in the house . . . the kids, however, were not yet in the house.
To avoid the timeout, they were hiding in the van. Part of me wanted to count the time they spent in the van as the time-out (this equaled significantly more than four minutes), but that seemed to be “letting them win” or, at least, “letting them figure out that time-outs aren’t all that bad.” I tried to remind them that, the sooner they took their timeouts, the sooner they could get to the things they actually wanted to do.
Nothing worked. It wasn’t until many tears later that the children worked their way to their rooms & closed the doors behind themselves.
Ahh, those four minutes of relative quiet.
I still don’t think Leila understands why she got in trouble for calling her brother a butt.