that's more like it

Today I ran 17 miles in 2:30:22. That's an 8:51 pace. This has renewed my confidence and enthusiasm and it's about damn time.

I was sick for two weeks and unable to do anything but gripe which I did very well, by the way. No running, biking, rock climbing, or hockey. Let me warn you now, if I'm ever laid up for an extended period of time due to, say, denge fever or an intestinal parasite or some of that necrotizing fasciitis or the flu, steer clear! I'm the biggest, whiniest baby when I'm sick. I'm telling you, the complaining and moaning goes on nonstop, especially when I'm running a fever. I was convinced I was feverish at one point and grabbed the thermometer, eager to find out just how much I could ramp up the bitching, each tenth of a degree validating that much more self pity. 98.6 was its mocking reply. I eventually went to the doctor because it felt like I had a nail lodged sideways in my throat. He marveled at how red it was, suspected strep throat, prescribed some antibiotics, took a throat culture, and that was that. Two days later I got a phone message that said only, "Culture was negative. Stop the antibiotics. [long pause] Oh yeah, this is your doctor."

It's just as well I was sick when I was as it coincided with the massive fires we had out here. They made for a few freaky days of very unpleasant respiration. The air was brown with smoke and my car was covered with ash. You could see the white flecks of it in the air and it made me wonder if I was breathing in the combusted remains of someone's Nintendo or carport or hedge. Or pet. The sunlight had that strange cast it gets during a partial eclipse. It was all very weird and depressing.

Meanwhile, I figured out why my last run was such a shitty experience. Turns out those gel packs I was quaffing along the way need to be followed up with WATER. Lots of water. They're hypertonic and need to be diluted in order to be absorbed by your body. Otherwise, they'll suck the water they need out of your stomach and intestines and any other cells they can get their hands on and leave you feeling the way I did: like a dried out, pain-wracked husk. Anyway, that was my theory; that it wasn't that I couldn't hack it and had pussed out but rather that I had unwittingly poisoned myself. I was determined not to duplicate that experience so yesterday I went and got myself a "hydration belt" (sorry, Amy, couldn't wait for Christmas!) It has bottles that clip to it and a pouch for the gels and such. Worked like a charm! No more stopping to drink from the water fountains I see people lifting their dogs up to lap from. Huzzah!

It was a perfect day for a run - overcast, no wind, 58 degrees. I got to my turnaround point in the middle of Dockweiler Beach - a vast, featureless expanse of sand, the low grey clouds obscuring both the horizon and the jets roaring and groaning aloft a couple of hundred feet above me - happy that I felt pretty good, and happy I'm not agoraphobic. I was slightly ahead of my 9 minute pace, then lost some time at a couple of red lights on Washington Boulevard. I managed to run the last two miles in about 16 minutes thus finishing 2 1/2 minutes ahead of schedule. The pain was at a tolerable level and I actually felt half decent at the end. I'm not going to get cocky, though. Next week's run will be 18 miles. We'll see how that goes.

Interesting Sound o' the Day: a couple of mystery explosions somewhere near Washington Boulevard. I could feel them.
12/1/08 UPDATE: Mystery solved! It was the sonic booms from the space shuttle landing at Edwards Air Force Base. So cool!

Last week's runs:
Wednesday - 3 miles
Thursday - 6.1 miles, approx. 57:00
Saturday - 9 miles, approx. 1:25:00

This week's runs:
Tuesday - 5 miles
Wednesday - 8 miles, approx. 1:05:00
Friday - 5 miles, approx. 40:00
Sunday - 17 miles, 2:30:22

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beset

There's a scene in Jaws where Roy Scheider is sitting on the beach watching the kids play in the water when one of these young-uns meets an untimely demise. Roy's holy shit! response is captured by what is known in the industry as a dolly zoom. Roy's head stays the same size in the frame but the background seems to rapidly recede from the camera in a weirdly disorienting way. It's an effective technique to convey an unsettling moment of realization.

And so it went yesterday as my foreground crept almost imperceptibly by while things in the distance seemed to get much, much farther away. This "moment" lasted 2 hours and 44 minutes - a 16.75 mile run during which, when I wasn't muttering or thinking an unbroken stream of obscenities, I was gasping and wincing in pain as I staggered along at a not-so-blistering 9:49 pace.

Usually when I start my long runs I'm pretty chipper for the first 6, 7, or 8 - maybe 10 miles. Yesterday for some reason I felt like I had already run 10 when I got to mile 1. It didn't help that I took a wrong turn at mile 4 and ended up 3/4 of a mile off route before I was able to yank my head out of my already pain-stricken ass and get back on track. By the time I got to my turnaround point, which was in the middle of Dockweiler Beach with the jumbo jets taking off immediately overhead, I was seriously thinking about stopping. I turned north and could see the Santa Monica pier - my destination - teenytiny and shimmering in the great distance. I just hadn't felt this kind of torture before and it was very discouraging. For those of you who want to experience the thrills of marathon training in the comfort of your living room here's an exercise you can try: take a step, then drop a brick on your foot. Now take another step and drop a brick on that foot, too. In between steps stick a fork into the back of your neck and into both hips. Repeat for 2 hours and 44 minutes.

It was unsettling just how much agony I was inflicting on myself. But despite the negative things I was saying along the way e.g. (expletives deleted), why am I doing this?, there's no possible way I'll be able to finish, I absolutely hate this, etc., I guess my moment of realization came when, despite the incessant cussing and limping and whining, I finally did indeed make it to the finish line.

Interesting Sight o' the Day: This guy.

Runs for the week:
Tuesday: 4.5 miles (with stairs)
Wednesday: 4.5 miles (with stairs)
Friday: 7.5 miles (with stairs), 1:05:43
Sunday: 16.75 miles, 2:44:22

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the regulars

Whenever I set out on my long weekend runs one of my first thoughts is "will anything be blog-worthy today?" Last Sunday was no exception but as I got to mile 3 of my 15 mile run, I recognized someone definitely blogworthy about two hundred yards ahead of me. The Jogging Gnome.

Venice and Santa Monica and their respective boardwalks and beach bike paths are home to many longtime regular characters that I've been seeing for years. I have nicknames for most of them: CPG (Creepy Bike Guy), Whitetop, Basketball Jones, The Worst Skateboarder in the World, Stagger Lee, Lon Chainy, Ezekiel, Rascal Master, The Fisherman, The Creeper, Stan the Can Man, Mandingo, Sarge, FiveSecondsofYourTime, Clem, and The One Who Shall Remain Nameless (nickname: Shamess) to name a few. The Jogging Gnome is so-called because whenever I see him, he's jogging. And he has an, um, unusual body type. I tried to illustrate this for Scott one day but I don't really think I captured his true gnome-like essence.

So there he was, loping along ahead of me. The impossibly long legs under an abbreviated torso, the flowing hair, the dangerously tan skin, the ever-present smile. I realized I was going to eventually pass him and began rehearsing possible greetings. "Howdy", "Howzitgoing?", "Hey", or the chatty "Nice day for a run!" Suddenly, he did something I've never seen him do before: He stopped jogging and started walking. I was dumbfounded and silently ran by, feeling like I was witnessing something extremely rare, like catching an endangered hummingbird taking a breather on the end of a twig. I couldn't believe it - The Jogging Gnome... walking!

I got to thinking; I've spent a good deal of time on the bike path over the last twenty years. Do any of these beach regulars recognize me as a fellow beach regular? Do they see me and say "Hey, there goes Blue Bike Old Guy!"? Maybe.

Interesting Sight o' the Day: An unusually large number of hot chicks playing beach volleyball. Ah, California - gotta love it!

Runs for the week:
Tuesday - 3 miles, 21:13
Wednesday - 4.5 miles
Friday - 3 miles
Sunday - 15 miles, 2:15:00

The Profeta Royalty sketchbook page containing The Jogging Gnome doodle, ca. June, 2006. Other drawings include my ode to a NASCAR Fan and my idea for a Fish Head Stroller.

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