running

As part of my ongoing budget-conscious mid-life crisis, I've decided to run a marathon. Like millions of guys my age before me, I can see the beckoning silhouette of the Grim Reaper standing at the horizon, waving a hearty 'hello!'. I find this motivating.

I just spent two weeks with my parents in Colorado celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. Any time two people are able to do anything together for 50 years straight it gives me pause. How do they do it without murder/suicide coming into play? I do not know. My folks have managed pretty well having settled on a pleasant 'two wheels at each end of an axel rolling amicably along' relationship model. Each year they flee the Texas heat, humidity, mosquitoes, and hurricanes and head to Colorado for a few months. This knocks a few years off and really amps up the happiness for them. They stay in shape mentally, working all the crossword puzzles, sudokus, jumbles, and any other brain challenges they can get their hands on with alarming ease. The Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle is done in ink, no questions asked, no problem. Physically, they're in amazing shape. They hike their asses off for hours, venturing above 10 or 11,000 feet on a regular basis. They eat right and are total closet hippies, what with the homemade bread, yogurt, and beer making. My dad is 73, mom is 71 and they impress the hell out of me.

I don't know if it was the fact that I was there for two whole weeks, half of it by myself, or if it was the 50 year anniversary thing but I found myself submerged in melancholia a good part of my trip. Being around my dad was like being transported via time machine 28 years into the future to hang out with myself as an old man (although dad hardly cusses at all and I think I'll probably have a more "the older I get, the more vulgar I get" attitude). Don't get me wrong, it's not like my dad is faltering. On the contrary, the guy gets up and runs 4 miles a day, 6 days a week at a mile and a half above sea level and at temperatures in the 20s. It's just that he's, you know, old-ish, and I can easily see myself in him. I went on his runs with him, having previously announced my marathon intentions and seeing this as a good time to start "training". I tried my best to keep up but with my heart threatening to explode out of my chest like the beast in Alien, it wasn't so easy.

My dad ran his first marathon when he was 44. It was the Houston marathon, the same one I'll be doing at 45. He ran it in just under 4 hours which is what I'm going to try to do, too. That's a 9 minute/mile pace. Five years later, when he was 50 years old, he qualified for the Boston Marathon by running one in 3 hours and 19 minutes. That's just over 7 1/2 minutes per mile! At 50! A 50 year old running badass! That's what I want to be! I ran 4 miles at that pace a few nights ago and practically needed an ambulance at the end. I have a long, long way to go, man.

So here I am, 5 weeks into it and let me tell you, it's hard. So far, my "training program" has consisted of running three times a week with a long run on the weekend. Sure, there are tons of resources out there; finely honed regimens full of exact distances and times and nutrition advice geared to help you achieve your marathon goal. There are running clubs and training dvds and wristwatch sized gps devices, etc., etc. But I've decided I'm going to Lone Wolf it. I'll take whatever advice Pop wants to give me, strap on my iPod and Ironman watch, and hit the road. I'm doing this for him, for me, and for myself 28 years down the road.

And I'm going to try and write about it. Whatever musings pop into my head during my hours slogging around town will get recorded, for what it's worth. So, the two or three of you who give a shit, stay tuned!

____