How Bad Do You Want It?

I can’t really explain why I like this video so much, but I thought it was worth sharing. It makes me want to go run hard, and that’s never a bad thing. I’m even considering downloading the mp3 to play on my iPod when I run.
 

 Hat tip: theCHIVE

Any plans for the 4th?

That seems to be the popular question for making small talk around the office these last few days. Either that or “Are you doing anything fun for the 4th?” I’m running the Breckenridge Independence Day 10k so I thought I was doing something fun for the 4th, but then I started trying to explain it to people: “I’m getting up stupid early to run with 300 other people up a single file trail that rises from 9,600 feet to 10,400 feet before coming back down again.” It doesn’t sound like something I’d normally describe as fun, but maybe my sales pitch just needs a little work. Those endorphins must be powerful things to make us do the things we do.

Candis and I ran this race last year and I really enjoyed it, Candis not so much. That explains why she’s sleeping in this July 4th and I’m running it by myself. I have no idea how fast I’ll be able to run it since it’s a tough course and last year Candis and I took it pretty easy, even walking through some of the steep climbs. I think I’ll be happy with anything under 60 minutes.

So, what about all of you? Are you doing anything fun for the 4th are you running a race?

Happy Memorial Day!

It was hot at the Bolder Boulder today, some people might refer to that as a "nice day" or "perfect weather" or "beautiful blue skies" but to me it was just hot. Hot and annoying.

Our times were 55:56 and 54:39 or something like that. I'll have a more detailed update tomorrow, but right now we're off to a friends house for some beer, BBQ and then more beer. Have a safe and enjoyable Memorial Day!

Run!

Do you ever keep watching a video over and over and you’re not sure why? Yeah, this video is kind of like that. I’m not sure why I like it so much, perhaps it’s the awesome title or the music. Or perhaps it’s the fact that it caters to my short attention span and my need to be entertained without having to invest too much of my valuable time.



On a running note, I plan to complete Razz’s GW,MA!6.66MR tonight so I should have a “race report” (air quotes!) ready to go for tomorrow morning... or tomorrow afternoon... or the next day, or whenever I feel like getting around to it. What are you, my boss? Get off my back already!

Anthony Edwards is Running

Check out the hilarious new video from Funny or Die via the always humorous Mark Remy from RW Daily.

Anthony Edwards has finally found a way to get back into television: The ING New York City Marathon. Listen and learn as he tells you about his preparation and planning for this spectacular live television event.

Anthony Edwards returns to TV in the NYC Marathon from Anthony Edwards

I’m so brushing my teeth with Accelerade on race mornings from now on.

Yeah, that’s all I got today.

It’s Just a Hill... Get Over It!

Granby Gut Buster 5K Race Report
This past weekend we joined Candis’ parents at their cabin in Grand Lake, CO for a little R and R, which stood for Running and Racing. As luck would have it Saturday was the 21st Annual Granby Gut Buster 5K in the nearby town of Granby and even though I have the Georgetown half marathon this coming Saturday I was itching to race and too impatient to wait 7 more days. So on Saturday morning Candis, David (age 6) and I all headed out to test our mettle on the race course while Graham (age 4) decided to stay at the cabin and test his Grandparent’s mettle.

As we drove to the race I daydreamed that I was crossing the finish line with a new PR, breaking the tape and being showered with roses from adoring fans. I was rudely jarred out of my daydream by a roadside sign that read ‘Welcome to Granby, Elev. 7982.’ My confidence in a PR slipped a little. It slipped a little more when we registered and were handed our race shirts that had a picture of a runner on a mountain with the slogan: ‘It’s Just a Hill... Get Over It!’ I was disheartened to notice that there were a lot of steep hills around us. However, there appeared to be fewer than 100 participants and I figured that might lead to the elusive age group award that I’ve been chasing for some time now.

In the first mile of the race we did indeed run up a steep hill, which was followed by more steep uphill sections. Seemingly around every turn we were faced with another uphill climb and I was feeling winded from the lack of oxygen and from starting out way too fast. The good news was that this course was a loop, so I knew that the downhills were coming.

As we started the downhill section of the course I was no longer thinking about a PR, instead I was keeping my eye on the people around me and attempting to stay ahead of the guys who looked to be in their 30s. I was OK being passed by anyone that wasn’t competing in my age group until somewhere in mile 2 I was passed by an 11 year old girl wearing Kinesio tape on her calves. Oh crap! This would not do. I hung on a few steps behind her, determined not to let her get away from me.

We hit the final mile and I was still hanging on. As we made our way around a hairpin turn we were able to see the runners trailing us and I noticed a guy not far behind me that looked to be in his 30s. He was clearly trying to steal my age group award and I would have none of it. I pushed the pace and tried to ignore my distressed breathing. My push away from the age group award thief put me closer to Kinesio tape girl and I used my momentum to get past her, but I failed to pass with authority and could hear her settle in a few yards behind me.

As we came down the penultimate stretch before turning to the finish we ran past Kinesio tape girl’s father who I later learned is a High School track coach. He was screaming at her like an overbearing parent to start her finishing kick and to run like this was the final 200 meters, despite the fact that we still had over a quarter mile to go. I heard her footfalls quicken and she began closing the gap. (I can actually feel you all rooting for her as I type this.) I waited until she was right on my shoulder before starting my own kick and I separated from her again, but a quick glance at my Garmin revealed we had a quarter mile to go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold this pace for that long and hoped against hope that she would fade before I did. She did not. As I started to slow down she bounded past me, apparently unaffected by fatigue. I thought briefly about summoning one more surge, one more kick, but I decided against it because I was fast approaching the puke threshold and the only thing worse than a 33 year old man losing to an 11 year old girl would be for him to lose and then puke his guts out at the finish line. Plus, I didn’t want to be the guy that let his competitive spirit get out of hand and outkicked the sweet little blond girl, crushing her spirit in defeat. At the same time I didn’t want to be the guy that got beat by an 11 year old girl, but that’s the guy I ended up being.

I crossed the line with a time of 24:53 (8:01 pace), missing my PR by 25 seconds. I stood at the finish with no PR and having just been beaten by an 11 year old girl. The only thing that was going to save this race was if I finished in the top 3 in my age group. Seriously, in a small mountain town with roughly 88 racers how many males could there possibly be who were in their 30s and faster than me? I won’t keep you in suspense. The answer to that question is 3, there were 3 men faster than me in their 30s who showed up that morning which left me off the podium.

I wallowed in the post race cookies which were pretty good (although they tasted vaguely like failure and disappointment) and waited for my son to finish his first ever 5K. When he crossed the finish line with Candis in 42:30 I was so proud of him that all of my shortcomings were completely erased. His splits were 15:48, 13:27, 12:19.

A cotton T-shirt? Rookie!

My Marathon Shoes

I ran the Arizona Rock ‘n’ Roll marathon (which has gone totally underreported) in a pair of grey and red Asics 2130s and up until last week I couldn’t bring myself to wear them again. It was really quite strange, I would put all my running gear on and then pick up the marathon shoes, look at them wistfully and then put them down and grab one of the other pairs of shoes in the rotation. While we’re on the subject of my shoe rotation, Candis thinks it’s excessive that I have 6 pairs of shoes in the current rotation. Back me up here guys, I think you need at least 6 pairs. What’s excessive is having PMS 12 times a year.

Last week before one of my runs, I placed the marathon shoes back in the closet but decided that I was just being silly. You can’t retire a perfectly good pair of shoes that only have 175 miles on them just because they carried you through your first marathon, right? So, I put them on and ran in them. I think it was the right decision.

It’s going to be up to you guys to provide the humor and run on sentences today because I’m going to be short (story of my life). So let’s hear it, have any of you ever had any strange attachment issues to a particular pair of running shoes? How many shoes are in your current rotation?

Shave Your 5K Update

This is just a friendly reminder for those of you who are participating in the Shave Your 5K Challenge that you only have 5½ weeks left to get achieve your Smooth time so you’d better get your butt out there and start running some 5Ks. My dilatory way of processing the results means that many of you didn’t receive an e-mail confirming that you were entered into the challenge, but if you sent me an e-mail with a 5K result then you should see your name on the results page. If you don’t see your name, then you need to send me another e-mail so that I can ignore you again correct my oversight.

All Smooth times must be e-mailed to me before the end of the day, January 1st, 2009. I’ll plan on announcing the winner’s and sending out prizes some time in January and I promise to be somewhat punctual about it.

Finally, here’s a video that is not related to anything I’ve said in this post whatsoever, but it’s Friday and I needed a laugh and you look like you could use one too.



Have a great weekend everyone!

Vanilla Exposed!

This is going to have to be short, because the overlords here at work are actually making me work. I’m convinced that they tried to kill me yesterday by making me sit through 8 hours of compliance training, death by boredom. Fortunately, I figured out how to get my Google Reader on my Blackberry. That really saved my life yesterday because I desperately needed something to take my mind off the stiff with the 4 inch comb-over bombinating at the front of the room. They tried to get us excited for the training by providing a free box-lunch (read: dry sandwich and a fruit cup) and free coffee in the morning. I’m always down with free coffee, but providing 4 oz paper cups to drink it out of was just plain cruel. The man is trying to keep me down, but I managed to get in a good 6 mile run this morning before work so I’m a little less cranky today.

I’ll try to get a Weekend Splits post up on Saturday, but in the meantime, head on over to the Runner’s Lounge to see who the handsome devil is that got interviewed for Open Mic Friday. (Hint: It’s me!) Not only can you read my witty responses and discover what type of blog I almost started writing instead of Half-Fast, but you can also see all-new, never-before-seen pictures of me and my family. It’s a big Vanilla exposé, but fortunately with out any of that kind of exposing - get your minds out of the gutter! While you’re over there, if you haven’t already, be sure to sign up to be a member of the Runner’s Lounge and we can be totally awesome online friends. Runner’s Lounge; it’s where all the cool kids are hanging out these days.

I Need This Shirt

I couldn’t have been prouder of Candis for finishing her first Triathlon. On our way home from the Tri we had the following conversation:

Me: You did awesome today!
Candis: Thanks.
Me: Seriously, I think it’s really cool that you’re a triathlete now.
Candis: Really, why?
Me: Because I’ve never slept with a triathlete before.

Then Candis found this shirt on CaféPress and I must have it.

Speaking of shirts, I’ve been toying around with some sites similar to CaféPress and have been thinking about designing some Half-Fast running shirts with slogans on the back like “Behind every good runner... there’s you!” I’ll have more on that in the future, but feel free to suggest race shirt slogans that you’d like to see.

That’s all I have for now, but be sure to check out my post today over at Complete Running, Kristina said it was “best thing you’ve written that I’ve read”... of course, Kristina also does this, so I’m not sure that she’s all there.

We Deal in Speed, Friend

The Skirt Chaser 5K: A Joint Race Report
Because it was requested by tfh, this is a he said/she said race report, and since I have no idea what a he said/she said race report is supposed to look like this is how we’re doing it: I’m going to start typing a race report and Candis is going to interject and interrupt me in her usual manner.

Candis: How do I indicate that I’m rolling my eyes right now?
Ian: I think you just did.
As you may have guessed from the title of this post, the Skirt Chaser was a good race for both of us. In fact, we both set new PRs on Saturday. Candis broke 30 minutes for the first time in her running career with a time of 29:40 (9:32 pace). Awesome job babe! This also means that she’s setting the SY5K bar rather high by shaving more than 2 minutes off her 5K time and she’s not done yet... We have the Colder Bolder 5K coming up in December where I’m certain she’ll crack the 28 minute range.
Candis: Nothing is ever good enough...
Ian: I managed a time of 24:28 (7:52 pace), shaving almost 1 ½ minutes from my previous time. w00t! As you can tell if you’re any good at math, the 3 minute head start that the ladies get in the Skirt Chaser was not enough for Candis to finish ahead of me.
Candis: We ran this race with 2 other couples that we’ve been friends with for many years. The two guys were given permission for a one time butt-smack if they could pass me. They could not :) he he.
Ian: The Skirt Chaser course was an out and back course which meant that you could wave at and taunt the other runners as you went.
Candis: It also meant that you could see the winners coming back to the finish- not that I was still at the finish when they came back...
The first men passed the waning women at 0.3 miles. Holy crap, how is that possible? Unfortunately I’m no good at math while I run, and I gave up trying to calculate their pace at 0.5 miles.
Ian: You’re no good at math at ANY time.
Candis: It was quite demoralizing, but then right before the turnaround point, 3 women blazed back passed us. Women cheered like we’d just gained suffrage. Still no men to be seen... yet. It was like I was winning, but not.
Ian: It was demoralizing to see the lead runners so far ahead but I took comfort in the fact that once I made the turn at the halfway point I could start demoralizing the other, slower runners. After the turnaround point I would try to make eye contact with the other runners and then look at my watch and shake my head in disgust. I hope they were all demoralized.
Speaking of demoralized my goal had been to take all your advice from Friday’s comments and start fast. I was hoping to post a 7:30 first mile, but found out while running that most of the first mile was uphill.
Candis: I didn’t really notice that it was that much of a hill.
Ian: “Oooh, look at me I didn’t notice the hill.” Whatever. After maybe a quarter mile at a 7:45 pace I changed my strategy mid-race, which is never a good idea.
Candis: You know what else isn’t a good idea? Telling your husband that he looks sexy in that lucky blue race shirt. Seriously honey, wear something different.
Ian: Ignoring you. Knowing that I would have a fast downhill finish I slowed to an 8:00 minute pace. My final splits were 8:03, 8:05 and 7:46. It worked out for the best, but meant that I wouldn’t catch Candis until after the halfway point.
Candis: As I got closer to 1.55 miles I started to get nervous. Pre race farts again. (Can I say that?) My stomach knotted. I knew he was coming. I took one look over my shoulder and then decided it wasted hundredths of a second that I didn’t have. I picked up the pace and made the turn before Ian. Shortly after the turn I spotted him coming the other way and decided that it would be best if he didn’t notice me because it would surely give him a boost if he saw how close he was but then... “Ian!” I blurted it out before I could stop it. Oops.
Ian: I heard a familiar voice and saw Candis across the street already on her way back. It did give me a boost of speed to know that I had almost caught her. I rounded the turn and began reeling her in
Candis: I picked it up to 9:00 minute pace despite the fact that we were going uphill. Was he there yet? I was waiting for a smack on the butt I knew was coming. It was taking too long...
Ian: I began to close in on Candis at the 1.8 mile mark and decided to encourage rather than taunt. “Good job babe, keep it up!”
Candis: The first thing I heard was his familiar breathing... (keep your mind on track) who was he to be supportive? Why was he being sweet before the smack?
Ian: She took off in a dead sprint, trying in vain to outrun me for a few more seconds.
Candis: “Stay back there!” I screamed. Women cheered.
Ian: I matched her sprint for only a few strides, but it hurt too much and felt like too much energy so I let her go. She was fending off my advances well.
Candis: I’ve had a lot of practice, I’ve been doing it for 16 years now.
Ian: I knew she couldn’t keep it up for long.
Candis: I sprinted until my throat screamed. My ego told it to shut up. Then my legs reminded us that we still had another hill left and that Ian is faster by nearly 2 minutes/mile. Here’s the math again. I can’t tell you what it is, but if he waited 3 minutes to start and caught me at 1.8 miles then I wasn’t beating him to the finish.
Ian: I did the same math, only a little more accurately and settled back into my pace, it was inevitable that I’d catch her. I wasn’t going to kill myself for it right now.
Candis: I’d lost- I knew I would- and it still sucked. I wasn’t quite as dejected as I thought I’d be. It’s not like it was close. I knew I could still make my sub 30 time, and did.
Ian: I passed her at the 1.9 mile mark amid cheers from all the women around us for her to beat me. Whatever. The love tap on the butt turned into a little more of a grab than a tap. What can I say, I’m handsy.
Candis: Great. Some women marry men that are handy, but I manage to get a guy that’s handsy. Figures.
Ian: At this point I had passed every member of our group except one. Carl and his wife were behind me as was the other guy (we’ll call him Bert), but Bert’s wife (we’ll call her Foghorn Leghorn- inside joke) was still ahead of me. I plowed ahead in an attempt to catch Foghorn Leghorn but knew that it would be tough.
I pushed myself as hard as I could down the hill to the finish. My Garmin indicates that my final tenth of a mile was at a 5:40 pace which is just ridiculous for me. I didn’t see Foghorn Leghorn until I crossed the finish line and noticed her standing up ahead of me in the chute. Chicked!
Candis: he he :)
Ian: The official results indicate that she beat me by 6 seconds. I’ll hang my hat on the fact that she technically ran the same distance 2 minutes and 54 seconds slower than me.
Candis: What happened after you crossed the finish line?
Ian: I’m getting to that. Literally seconds after I finished, even before I saw Foghorn Leghorn ahead of me in the chute I crossed the Puke Threshold. It was a bizarre feeling. I’ve never actually puked after or during a run, but doubled over in the chute I found myself staring at my Gatorade-stained lunch splattered on the street.
Candis: Changing the subject, this was hands down my favorite race ever. Usually Ian & I start together and I lose sight of him at .005 miles in a cloud of dust. The focus of this race was very unique and it made it a great diversion to my ‘two sports too many’ training (more on this later). This night was all about speed, great friends (who usually don’t race with us- so it was fun), and great post race food. Well, almost. The beer sucked.
Ian: Dale’s Pale Ale. I’m not sure why Dale hates us so much but I couldn’t even drink the beer, and it was free.
Candis: Well done Skirt Sports. Thanks to Nicole & Tim DeBoom (more on them later). They put on a very exciting and well planned event. Loads of fun, just when I needed to remember why I like racing.
Ian: Unfortunately, I never found P.O.M. or Christine, but I did meet up with Simon from RunColo which was cool. Be sure to check out all of their blogs for more on the Skirt Chaser. My wife has rambled on long enough for this post.

Negative Ghost Rider, the Pattern is Full

I was intentionally buzzed by a cyclist during my run on Monday night. Actually, I’m not sure that “cyclist” is the correct term for this particular guy, he was more of a pedestrian who just happened to be riding a bike. A BMX bike, whose frame was dwarfed by that of its rider.

As I rounded a bend on my usual running path I spotted a family up ahead of me, they were stopped on their bikes and completely blocking the path. As I closed in on them from behind, two of them pedaled off ahead of me while the other three remained in the standard military roadblock formation. I veered into the grass and made my way around them. I honestly wasn’t all that annoyed, and was thankful to be through the checkpoint without having to pass a sobriety test or have my trunk checked.

The two that had gone on ahead (a lady and a young kid) were now right in front of me, and traveling at the same speed that I was. Unfortunately this was not due to the fact that I’m fast enough to keep up with “cyclists” but rather due to the fact that the kid was apparently riding without training wheels for the first time. Either that or he just sucked at bike riding. The kid was maybe 6 years old and was wobbling all over the place, I was shocked that he had been allowed to pass through the last sobriety checkpoint because he looked pretty smashed to me.

Meanwhile, the three-man roadblock had started following me down the path right after I had passed them. I now found myself running in the middle of a family of “cyclists” and quite frankly it was a little awkward. My Garmins revealed that I was running at the right pace, pushing myself a little, and I didn’t want to pass the two in front of me because I assumed that they’d eventually speed up. It was at this point that one of the roadblockers yelled from behind “Hey Mary, watch out on your right!” Mary then pulled over to the left and instructed the kid to do likewise, but I didn’t want to pass them, I didn’t want to run faster. So there I was with an open lane and everyone expecting me to speed up and overtake them. It was kind of like when someone holds a door open for you even though you’re still 20 yards away, I felt like I had to speed up. So I did.

As I passed Mary, the kid stopped looking at his pedals long enough glance back over his shoulder. This move caused him to veer even further to the left and as his bike toppled from the path the young foal lost his balance. His head bounced like a bell’s clapper inside his oversized helmet, but I’m sure he was OK. I just kept on trucking, still uncertain if he was new to 2 wheels or if he really did suck at bike riding.

About a half mile further down the path, the incident long forgotten I heard a “cyclist” bearing down on me. It was one of the roadblockers. From the popped collar and sagging shorts I’d guess he was about 15 going on douchebag. He came within an inch of wrecking his stunt-pegs on my ankles and then immediately braked in front of me, his pungent cologne assaulting my nostrils. He looked at me, and then in his best Michael Corleone voice he said “Oh... Excuse me, I didn’t see you there.” He was sending me a message. Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes indeed. It was so comical that I actually laughed. He was stopped on the path, waiting for the rest of The Family and he took umbrage with my joviality as I passed him again. At least he would have if he’d have understood any of the words in that sentence. “What?” He yelled. “What’s so funny, huh?” Still smiling, I looked back at him and shrugged. He yelled some more as I made my way down the path but I was too far away and too indifferent to hear.

Niketown: A Model of Efficiency

For my wife’s birthday I recently bought her, among other things, a nice cold weather running shirt from Niketown. Unfortunately I bought it a size too small and ended up having to return it. Incidentally men, if you’re ever in doubt about which size to buy for the woman in your life, go with the smaller option. It’s much safer. “Really honey? You don’t wear a Petite? Well, you look petite to me.” This will earn you more brownie points than the actual purchase and will partially make up for saying that running on a treadmill is worse than giving birth. You know... if you were stupid enough to say something like that.

Allow me to state for the record that I love Nike. I’ve never bought a pair of their running shoes, but I probably own or have owned everything else they’ve ever made, including a lovely running skirt. So it gives me no joy to have to write a negative post about Niketown, which I sincerely wish was an actual town. It would be a town without fast food chains, the streets would be paved with that rubbery track compound and Gatorade would flow from your faucets.

Back to the story. I walked in to Niketown, the store not the imaginary place in my head, and I moseyed on over to the customer service desk. I explained my situation to the kindly old lady who looked eerily like my late Grandma, while she scanned the small shirt and checked my receipt. I was about to turn and walk off to grab the new shirt when Grandma informed me that someone else would get it and bring it to me. Perfect. That would save me from seeing something else on my way and exchanging my wife’s new shirt for that jacket I’ve been eyeing.

I stood to the side and waited. The women’s running shirts were located on the 2nd floor, which is a U-shaped floor that is open to the 1st floor below in what would be the middle of the U. This allowed me to actually see the rack where my wife’s shirt was residing. After waiting for a few minutes I turned to Grandma and told her that I remembered where the shirt was located, and would she like me to go and get it. No. Someone was already getting it. It occurred to me that perhaps someone was bringing one from the supply room instead of getting it off the rack. I figured that this would be a good thing as I often hear women say that they’d rather not wear things “off the rack.”

After some more waiting, Grandma asked me if anyone had brought the new shirt down yet. She asked me. I looked around at the empty counter and then sarcastically at my empty hands before answering in the negative. Grandma spoke into her walkie talkie and a new employee hurriedly came out of the Women’s Running department and down to the counter where I was patiently waiting. The employee looked at the shirt I had returned, frowned and then headed back upstairs where she began searching the racks for the shirt. After some flustered searching she found the shirt I had been awaiting, pulled it off the rack - sorry honey, the shirt is “off the rack” : ( - and then did something very curious. She walked past the stairs, over to the other side of the store and put the shirt into a giant glass tube that was apparently some kind of “merchandise elevator.” Seconds later the shirt disappeared into the ground and showed up in the giant glass tube that was 30 feet from the counter that I was waiting at. Nifty huh? Except that Grandma was now helping other customers and didn’t notice that the new shirt had been beamed down.

More waiting and then Grandma excused herself from the customer she was working with and spoke into her walkie talkie again. I could only make out her side of the conversation. “Are you bringing that shirt down?” - “Oh… but I’ve got A TON of other customers I’m helping, I was hoping that you could bring it to the register.” (Apparently, in Niketown the store, 2 customers equals A TON.)

The second employee emerged again from the Women’s Running department with a less than pleasant look on her face. She hurried down the stairs, went to the merchandise elevator, pulled out the shirt – the shirt that she had put in there only moments ago – and brought it to the counter. Before I could even thank her she dropped the shirt on the counter and then WENT BACK UPSTAIRS. At this point it had taken 20+ minutes for the new shirt to arrive at the counter. It would have taken me less than 30 seconds to go upstairs and grab it myself, but Niketown in their efforts to put the customer first decided to save me the hassle. Thanks Niketown. I actually think they just like using those cool merchandise elevators, I know I would if I were a Niketown employee, but alas I’m entirely too efficient to work there.

When I got the shirt back home and gave it to my wife, she removed it from the bag and out fell a 20% off coupon attached to the new receipt. Do you know when the 20% off coupon expired? Two hours from the time of issuance. Bravo Niketown, Bravo.

A New Toy, Almost

After work on Tuesday night I went out with my family to purchase a Garmin Forerunner because quite frankly, I deserve one. I have been contemplating buying one for some time now and I received a gift card to Road Runner Sports for my birthday so I planned on using that to pay for the new toy.

There are very few things in this universe that I don’t understand, but among them are the following: Why Monday Night Football hates my eardrums (see commentators Tony Kornheiser, Joe Theismann, Dennis Miller, etc.) Why people are paying upwards of $2,000 for tickets to see Hannah Montana. Why anyone feels that it’s OK to converse with me while we stand exposed at the urinals. And finally, why my kids lose all perspective of what constitutes socially acceptable behavior the instant we enter any sporting goods store. It figures that the one store that I don’t mind going shopping in is the one store where my kids become devil-children, or los niños del Diablo for those of you south of the border.

Tuesday night was no different. The over-eager sales associate came over to offer us assistance and while I was explaining what I was looking for, my oldest son was tugging on my hand demanding I remove his coat. The sales associate, whose name was Tom, glanced nervously at my kids and then back at me as if to say ‘I really don’t like kids very much.’ I hate it when people act like this when I’m with my kids. ‘Hey Tom, guess what? I don’t like them very much either but at least I possess the decorum to not show it in front of them!’

Tom quickly shows me to the Garmins and then leaves just as quickly. In what would turn out to be a horrendous mistake I remove the 4-year-old’s jacket which leads to me also removing the 2-year-old’s jacket, and I turn my attention to the Garmins. Not thirty seconds later a fight breaks out in women’s apparel in which jackets are being used like nunchucks. My wife and I separate the pair and she ties their jackets around their waists after declining my more radical idea of tying them around their necks.

I go back to looking at Garmins, debating if I want the one with the heart rate monitor or the cheaper one without the heart rate monitor. Cheaper wins out and I try it on to see how it feels. Somewhere on the other side of the store a jacket takes flight. I'm guessing by the size of it that it wasn't the sales associate’s jacket and I can tell from the trajectory that it was launched from somewhere around 2 feet above ground level.

My wife and I decide to divide and conquer. I take the youngest boy to one side of the store and she takes the oldest to the other side. This is a great strategy if you can put up with the downside: Going out with your wife and not ever seeing her because you’re afraid of the consequences of uniting the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster. This is also why I won’t be having any more children. We currently have two, which means that we can still play man to man defense against them. When the third child arrives you have to switch to zone defense and it’s just not as effective.

Having settled things down, and after re-hanging countless shirts, shorts and socks back on the rack I headed to the cash register with my new Garmin. Well worth the hassle we’d endured. Unfortunately the gift card didn’t work, and Tom would have to... blah, blah, blah, -long list of excuses that don’t make any sense to me-... and long story short, I’ll have to order it online. This means that our pilgrimage to the running store was completely futile other than to raise my blood pressure a few degrees and cause me to sound like my father. “Don’t touch that!” “Put that back!” “Stop playing with that!” “No yelling!” “No running!”

Slippery When Wet

Denver Half Marathon Race Report

Editors Note: This is going to be a long post, so grab a cup of coffee, sit back and relax with your feet up. Tell your secretary to hold all calls and ask your boss to come back at a better time.

I was the only runner not smart enough to wear long sleeves.

I stood with the huddled masses, shivering at the start as the rain drizzled down around us. It was 41 degrees and I was leaning close to the other runners, soaking up as much of their heat as I could. As we breathed into our hands and bounced to keep warm it struck me as ironic that only a week ago runners in Chicago were faced with overwhelming heat and not enough water. In Denver there was so much water it was falling from the sky.

I was stuck at the back of the pack on account of my bladder deciding that it was too full just minutes before we were called to the start. I can see the 9 minute pace corral way up ahead of me but I can’t get to it. It’s OK because my race strategy is to run at a slower pace for the first 4 miles and put myself 2 minutes behind the required pace for a sub 2 hour half marathon. After mile 4 I intended to pick up the pace and make up those 2 minutes over the next 9.1 miles.

The gun goes off and a minute later I’m shuffling towards the start I put my headphones in and select my Denver Half Marathon playlist. I eventually cross the start and immediately find myself leaping over discarded sweatshirts, pants, rain jackets, ponchos, trash bags with arm holes, and even a pair of underwear. I guess they were chafing someone. It only takes a mile for me to become completely soaked which is a relief. I enjoy running in the rain, it’s just the initial getting wet part that sucks. Now that I’ve got that out of the way I can focus on my race.

At 3 miles I check my watch and find that I’m already 2 minutes behind the pace for a sub 2 hour marathon so I begin to increase my tempo. At this point I’m quite happy about the slow start as I have NEVER been able to start a race slowly and then speed up, I’m apparently more of a start-quickly-and-fade guy.

Just past Mile 4 Cheer Team Vanilla is waving, yelling, taking pictures and ringing those annoying cowbells. Who got those things for them? Not only did they stand out in the rain and meet me at the finish they were also willing to carb load with me the night before. Way to take one for the team. Shortly after this point my bladder (which I’m thinking about having removed) decided that it needs to be emptied again, but it will have to wait.

Having already run through the first two water stops without taking any liquids I decide that I had better grab some at mile 5 despite my bladder’s continued pleas to be emptied. By mile 6 I’m running through city park, where I am no longer sheltered by the high rise buildings. The wind is biting through my wet clothes and I pretty sure that my nipples could cut glass at this point. I check my watch and I’m only 1 minute behind a sub 2 hour pace, which means that I’m making up time nicely. I reach out to take a Clif Shot and the girl hands me three. I glance at the flavor to see what I’ve been handed and it’s Vanilla. It may sound stupid, but cold and wet and 6 miles deep into a half marathon I felt like it was a sign. It was like the sun was bursting through the clouds and angels were singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” Only there was no sun, only rain. I downed one of the shot gels, put one in my pocket for later and tossed the third one back towards the girl who’d handed it to me.

By mile 7 I wasn’t paying attention to my MP3 player, I wasn’t thinking about how cold or tired I was. I was simply weighing the pros and cons of peeing my pants. The fact that running can put you in a situation that allows you to even consider this as a viable option is probably grounds for quitting. My shoes were already soaked, and if my shorts would have been wet enough to hide it I would have probably just peed myself.

I reached mile 8 and had almost dropped back to 2 minutes off the pace again. I was extremely disheartened and began to doubt my ability to finish in under 2 hours. Mile 9 had a couple of tough uphill sections and I felt sure that my pace had fallen again. The rain and cold got to me and I decided to stop and pee in Cheesman Park. Hoping to take no more than 15 seconds I found a nice bushy tree, I ducked under the branches and... Holy Shrinkage Batman! 45 seconds later I was back on the course and feeling much better.

‘Come on Vanilla’ I told myself, and yes I actually said Vanilla instead of Ian, because I was trying to remind myself that I’d have to blog about how I failed. I don’t know if it was the fact that I was carrying 7 less pounds of urine or if the 45 second break recharged me, but I was running strong. There was a hill at mile 10 but I didn’t even feel it, I was passing people like they were volcanic lava. I passed mile 11 without looking at my watch, it didn’t matter, I was just running. I grabbed a Gatorade and splashed it up my nose and down my front, it didn’t matter. I was running, I was Forrest Gump.

At mile 12 I did look at my watch: 1:50:06. All I needed was a 9 minute pace. I felt like I was on the verge of achieving my goal. I was willing myself to the finish. With less than a half mile to go I was only conscious of my legs as those weights beneath my hips. I crossed the finish line and stopped my watch at 1:59:42. Initial feelings of disbelief turned momentarily to elation and pride before giving way to uncontrollable shivering and icy pain.

Tomorrow I’ll have some more pictures and more on the post race thaw. Update: Here

Running Companion

I run alone. I'm like a lone wolf that way, a free spirit or the tiger who hunts in solitary. I do however have a running companion. It's the best friend a runner could ever have. It's 3.5 oz of sleek black plastic. It's my Sony Ericsson W810i cell phone.

I Love You Sony Ericsson W810i
Oh, but it's so much more than just a phone. It's a music player, it's a flashlight, it's a radio, it's a camera, it's a stopwatch, it's an internet browser, it's a crime deterrent, it's too good to be true is what it is! Allow me to show you why I need all of these incredible features, and the benefits they provide.

Feature #1 - Phone
The ability to make phone calls during a run is a blessing, not because I DO make phone calls, but because I know I COULD make phone calls. Should I try to run around this lake before I head back home? Yes, because I can always call someone to come pick me up if it turns out to be too far. Should I stop running because I feel a twinge in my knee? No, because if it snaps I can call 911 to come get me. Benefit: Having a phone makes me run further and train harder. I assure you that my logic in this matter is quite infallible.

Feature #2 - Light
The phone has a very bright light, and if you've been paying attention you know that I am often out running in the wee hours of the morning when it is still dark. I often turn on the light to scare off potential muggers and to see the path that I am running on. I am less likely to step in a pothole if I illuminate my way with the light. This in turn makes it less likely that I will be hobbled by a sprained ankle, making me an even more attractive prey to the muggers than before. You don't want to be the wounded baby rabbit when the lone wolf comes along because, where do you think you're going? Benefit: Having my light decreases my chance of injury and ambush.

Feature #3 - Camera
The phone has a 2 mega pixel camera. This is essential for me because I am a dedicated running blogger and there may be something that I need to photograph so that I can blog about it, or maybe there is just something I have never seen before. For example, during my first ever morning run I saw the sun rising in the east. I know, I couldn't believe it either! Benefit: Having my camera makes me a better running blogger, and a better human being.

Feature #4 - MP3 Player
The phone holds up to 2 MB (upgraded) of songs. Not just any songs, songs that make me faster. Songs like ‘Til I Collapse by Eminem and Fergalicious by Fergie. Hey, don't judge me. Benefit: Having my MP3 player makes me run faster.

Feature #5 - FM Radio
If I ever get sick of listening to my stolen legally downloaded and paid for MP3s, then I can annoy myself by listening to the afternoon show DJs or the always asinine 'Morning Zoo'. Nothing makes me want to end my run faster (or jump into oncoming traffic) than suffering through the ramblings of these idiots. Benefit: Having a radio will annoy me into being faster.

Feature #6 - Stopwatch
The phone boasts a stopwatch that will track and remember up to 9 laps. Benefit: If you need me to explain the benefit of this feature to you then you should turn in your runner's membership card right now, and go become a morning DJ... or a door-stop... or a boat anchor. Your potential is limitless.

Feature #7 - Internet Access
The phone allows me to check my e-mail, view sports scores, and pull up directions on Google maps. 'But you can't do those things while you're running?' Maybe YOU can't do those things while you're running you sausage-fingered-chucklehead, I do them all the time. Seriously. How else am I going to pass the miles during my long runs? Benefit: Having internet access stops me from getting bored.

Feature #8 - Crime Deterrent

The Longest Run of my Life

On Sunday I had the longest run of my life. I began running at one o'clock in the afternoon when the sun was high and the sky was cloudless. I would finish 12 miles later and feel like it had taken days to complete. (It didn't take days, but it did take long enough that you won't see the actual time in this post, if you want that info you'll have to check back at the end of September in the Personal Running Log.) The temperature was 88 degrees but I wasn't worried. I'd been hydrating properly and Pat had really made me feel like a wuss when he mentioned on his blog that he likes to wait until the temperature drops to around 101 before he goes out running. I think maybe he lives in hell. The plan was to run a 6 mile loop twice, which would allow me to grab a Clif shot and some water at the house after 6 miles, because I hate carrying that stuff with me when I run. What am I, a mule?

The first 5 miles went by slowly, but generally without incident. I didn't even get mad at the motorist who blazed through the crosswalk ahead of me. Then, as I began to approach home - the halfway point - my body began to tell me that we were almost done. "No! We're not! We're almost HALFWAY done," I reiterated. My body was having none of it. My legs knew this stretch of road was always the final stretch, they knew that they were supposed to be tired by now. This internal debate went on for almost a quarter mile with my legs insisting that they were almost done and ready to stop, and my mind trying to override my body's desire to quit. Then out of nowhere my body played its trump card; "not only are we done running, but now you have to pee!" What?!? Awww man! Well played. Now I have to go inside, making it more likely that I'll call it good at 6 miles.

My body however, is seriously underestimating how badly I want to complete this 12 mile run. I get back to my house, grab the drink and Clif shot that I left on the porch all the while jogging in place. I jog into the house to... "wow, it sure is nice and cool in here, I mean it's almost chilly," it feels like a refreshing swimming pool on a hot day. Focus. Still jogging in place I head into the nearest bathroom, and determined to not lose my rhythm I attempt to jog in place while I pee. Bad idea. Do you remember that scene in Backdraft when the firemen lost control of the hose and it was spraying water everywhere? Yeah, it looked exactly like that but with pee... and a longer hose. (Lying.)

Now my body thinks it's won because I'm going to have to clean up that mess and you surely can't jog in place and clean up pee, but once again my body has underestimated how badly I want to complete this run. Because I'm in the kid's bathroom I just leave the mess knowing that my 4 year old will likely take the fall for it, while claiming he didn't do it and being scolded for lying. It's OK. It will teach him a valuable lesson that life isn't fair and that authority figures can't always be trusted. It's a brilliant idea, but hold on to your shorts because I'm not done with brilliant ideas yet.

I head downstairs, remove my shirt, turn on the fan, and finish my run in the cool basement on our treadmill. I'd run shirtless outside but I'd have to carry a stick to beat off women, plus I've been warned before about the glare that it causes for passing motorists. Checkmate. My body has no response, superior intellect has once again triumphed. I logged the final 6 miles on the treadmill and showed my legs who wears the pants around here (metaphorically speaking of course). That was Sunday. Monday and Tuesday my legs have been killing me. Maybe next time I'll be more inclined to listen to them... nah, I doubt it.

The 9 Types of Runs

It has been my experience that there are essentially 9 types of runs.

The Daydreamer You head out for your run and before you know it you're back home. You were so involved in the run that you often finish and realize that there are long stretches of the route that you don't even remember. The Daydreamer will cause you to question whether or not you really ran the route you thought you did.

The Hollywood Marriage Run This run never lasts very long and no one really thought that it would anyway. By the time it's over you're already looking forward to the next one.

The Volkswagen Jetta Run Like the VW that I once owned everything that could possibly go wrong, does. You get a rock in your shoe. Your iPod dies. Mistaking it for water, you squirt Gatorade on your head. Your shoes come untied and when you pause your watch to tie them you forget to restart it. The sweat gets in your eyes, the wind is in your face going out and coming back. You trip over your own calf muscle and everyone sees it. By the time you're done with this run you're seriously considering giving up running.

The Broken Watch So named because you felt great the entire run and you're pretty sure that this is going to be one of your fastest times ever. Alas your stupid watch must be broken because it thinks that this was one of your slowest times ever. I never liked that watch very much anyway.

Even The Russian Judge Likes It Run The perfect run. You feel good, you feel fast, nothing can stop you. A slight breeze keeps you cool, even while the sun smiles down on you. As you approach the bottom of that tough hill, cartoon bluebirds appear from nowhere and whisk you up to the top in no time at all. The squirrels along side your path stand and give you the Arsenio Hall salute as you pass them at dangerously fast speeds. This run may not happen all that often, but it's the one that keeps you coming back for more.

The This Is Why More People Don't Run Run This is the run that pushes you to your limits, that forces you to dig deep and use all your willpower to get through it. Your legs hurt, your side aches, and who the hell thinned out the air today? This is the run that makes you realize why running is beneficial, and why more people don't do it.

The Academy Awards Speech Run You start this one intending that it will just be a short run, but you're feeling so good about yourself that you end up running longer. And thanking everyone you meet.

The Quitter You get some kind of cramp or injury that you can't run through or know that you shouldn't run through. This inevitably happens at the furthest point from the finish and of course all the people you passed now witness you walking home like some kind of can't-hack-it-pantywaist. You try to let them know that you're walking because of an injury by stopping to stretch frequently or limping slightly, but no one's buying it because everyone's pulled that old trick.

The Blog Buster Much like an episode of The Bill Engvall Show this run goes off without anything interesting or funny happening. Your time is as you expected it would be and there is nothing worth noting about this run. That's all great but now you don't have anything to blog about. I guess you'll just have to write about fast food or maybe you can get away with making up a list of the different types of runs.

Let me know in the comments if you think I forgot any.

Excuse me, I'm trying to pee here

Uh oh, I think I have to pee. Let's see, I've got about 6 miles left on this run, so I'm not going to make it back home. Are there any port-a-potties on my route? Yes, yes I think there is one at that park a half mile from here. I can make it. Don't think about it just keep running until you get to the park.

Finally, here's the park and right over there is... Wait... Where did the port-a-pot go? I swear that there was one here. Crap! Just keep running I guess. Perhaps I can find a tree or a bush or something. Ooh, there are some good bushes and trees by the stream in a mile and a half. Stream. Running water. Uh oh. I need to find somewhere to take a leak and I mean STAT people! This is not a drill!

Over there! Those bushes aren't really big enough but if I squat down like I'm stretching I think I could make it work. I'm going for it. Wait! There are kids over there playing soccer. Maybe they won't notice? Nope. Too risky, not to mention too hard explain what I was doing with my pants around my ankles in the bushes near the kiddies playing soccer. Good catch. Definitely not worth the risk. Keep going.

Awww man! That would be a great place to relieve myself if those cyclists weren't stopped there. Why are they stopped? Get moving! I could totally pee behind that tree if they weren't there and it's going to be a while before I find another secluded place to go.

OK, I'm in trouble. No one in the history of the world has ever needed to take a piss more than I do right now. I'm going to explode. Seriously, I think this could be dangerous to my health. Just go man, just let it go. No, you can make it.

At last, here come's a big tree up ahead. I can... no! An old couple running towards me from the other direction. It's OK. I'll just take it slowly and after they pass me I'll run down into the ditch and hydrate the tree. Smile and wave. Hello. OK... now... the coast is clear. There you go, just a quick glance to make sure the old couple isn't stopping. Oh no! They're turning around! Abort! Abort! This is their freaking turnaround point?!? I can't catch a break! Quick run back up to the path. And now they're following me, probably wondering what I was doing running down to the ditch. Quick, do it again so they think it's part of your training regimen. There we go. OK, one more time down to the ditch and back up so it just looks like some kind of weird intervals or mini hill sprints or something.

Alright, I think I've lost the old couple. I'm pretty fast so they must be a ways back by now and there's a couple of trees around this bend that will provide adequate shelter for my bathroom break. Here we go. Aaaaaaannnddd go. Commence evacuation. Seriously. Let's go already, you've had to pee for 5 miles and now you're going to get stage fright? PEE ALREADY!

AHHHHHHHHHH. Relief. Well that's just great, how did I manage to splash it on my shoes? And my ankle? Gross! Oh no! I hear the old couple coming. Hurry up. HURRY UP! There we go. Quickly now, back on the trail before they see me. Down into the ditch and back up. Down into the ditch and back up. Nothing to see here folks, just doing my mini hill sprints.

Huh, what do you know. I guess the old saying is true; "You can shake it, you can squeeze it, you can bang it on a wall, but not until it's in your pants does the last drop fall!"

Running or Jogging: The Final Word on a Tired Debate

If you've spent any time around any running blogs or message boards then you've probably heard some version of the debate about the difference between being a runner or a jogger. Today's post will be my opinion on the matter or as I prefer to call it; The Definitive Answer.

The catalyst for this debate within the running community recently has been the Pearl Izumi 'we are not joggers' ad campaign which counter's Reebok's 'run easy' campaign. Chances are that if you're an elite or seasoned runner you were inspired by the 'we are not joggers' ads and if you are a slower or newer runner you were probably offended by it.

The ad paints joggers in a negative light and runners as elitist snobs, neither of which is true. Sure there are some elite runners out there who think themselves better than you and I, and let's be honest they ARE better than you or I, but only when it comes to running. And just because they are better than me at running doesn't give them the right to look down their noses at me. I mean, you don't see me looking down my nose at them because I'm a better blogger than they are. Seriously, have you ever read an elite runner's blog? BO - RING!

So far as I can tell, this dichotomy only occurs in running. The golf pro's at my local course don't try to tell me that I'm not playing golf just because I hit the ball into the wrong fairway every other hole. Sure they have some colorful names reserved for me, and they think I'm a bad golfer but they still concede the fact that I'm playing golf. If I play golf while wearing my iPod or ride in a cart instead of walking, or smoke a cigar while I'm playing it doesn't mean I'm not playing golf. Likewise, just because you are a slow runner doesn't mean that you are not running, as Pearl Izumi would appear to claim. You are still participating in the same sport or activity of running.

I for one am not going to tell someone who is giving everything they've got to crank out a 36:45 minute 5K that they were not running. I don't care how slow you are or that you have to listen to your iPod to get motivated, or that you run on a treadmill, or that you need walk breaks, you're running. You might not be as good as some people or as fast, but it doesn't change the definition of what you're doing.

Of course if I ever get to the point where I'm running sub 6 minute miles in marathons then I will delete all evidence of this post and pompously pronounce my superiority over all of you lame 'joggers'.

Incidentally, the ad campaign was absolutely genius. Had you ever heard of Pearl Izumi before these ads came out? Do you think we'd all be discussing them this much if they had gone with a mellow ad campaign? Sure they upset some people who are swearing that they'll never own their shoes but that will all blow over, and in 6 months a brand new runner will stand in a sporting goods store and look at a pair of Pearl Izumi's and think to himself "hey, these were marketed to elite runners, they must be great shoes" and then he'll buy the shoes and torment them by never letting them be any faster than 10 minute miles.

For the record, I consider myself a runner. A runner who's not as fast as he'd like to be, and a runner who occasionally jogs but a runner nonetheless. Personally I think Dr. George Sheehan said it best when he said that "the difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank."

It seems like every idiot with a blog is weighing in on this debate and I'm no different, but here are three that I enjoyed: Beyond Madison Avenue, Adrants and DaneGer Zone.