Things I Imagine While Running

When I was little I was in Cub Scouts, along with various other youth programs all designed to stop you from becoming the kind of adult that I became anyway. The motto of the Cub Scouts, which they drilled into our heads during my short time there is Be Prepared. You might have already known that. It was a motto that I took to heart and one that I still believe in today. Part of being prepared is imagining all of the worst case scenarios that could come your way and figuring out how you’ll deal with them. I employ this technique when I’m running.

For example, I often find myself out running when it’s dark. This is when there are unsavory characters lurking around every corner to get you so it is especially important to be prepared. Each cyclist that you pass could be a terrorist in disguise, sent to take you captive. That woman walking her dog could be an Al Qaeda operative whose mission is to rub you out. When I run at night I imagine that each pedestrian that I pass is a mortal enemy. I look around for reflective surfaces so that I can keep an eye on them without alerting them to my alertness. After they pass me I know that they are circling back around to attack but my Spidey senses are tingling and I feel the danger coming. As though I have eyes in the back of my head I deftly duck out of the way of their initial blow and then turn my defensive maneuver into a deadly counter attack. I spin around with lightening quickness and take the highly trained, combat-hardened terrorist completely by surprise. I execute a roundhouse kick with Chuck Norris-like perfection that catches my assailant squarely in the jaw. Stunned but not knocked out, the terrorist stumbles backwards and I immediately pounce and pummel them with brutal body blows from my steely fists. I put the terrorist in a choke hold and demand that he tell me who sent him. Seriously guys, I make Jack Bauer look like limp-wristed mama’s boy.

Later I’ll give an interview on TV where you’ll still be able to see my bloodied knuckles and sweat drenched shirt. I’ll describe in the most nonchalant fashion how I captured the most highly sought after man in the US and got critical information out of him that will save countless lives. It’s thoughts like these that keep me at a heightened state of awareness when I run, I mean sure, sometimes I almost run right into other runners because I’m so immersed in my daydreams, but for the most part I’m super aware.

Of course none of this has ever actually happened. It usually turns out that my tingling Spidey sense was just indigestion and if anything like that ever did really happen I’d probably crap my pants and faint. Later that night the local news story would be about a heroic woman who revived a runner that had passed out and soiled himself for no apparent reason.

There’s No Running in Margaritaville...

... which is why I left work early and got my run in before going to the restaurant last night. Those of you who were hoping for a video of me running falling on the treadmill after imbibing some margaritas! are just going to have to wait because I’m sure it will happen some day. Yes, I had a margarita! with dinner and no, that is not cause for revoking my man card as some of you had hoped. I mean, take a look at this picture and tell me that’s not manly.

I hold it with my pinkie extended because I’m classy!
Incidentally this is not the first time that some of you have clamored for my man card. There have been various attempts at confiscating it here, here, here and here (which is ridiculous since my wife wrote that post!), but I’m happy to report that I am still firmly in possession of it. I keep it right here in my man-bag with my guyliner. You can have my man card when you pry it from my cold, dead, well-manicured hands you heathen barbarians!

Ha! Just when you thought that Nitmos was going to have the unmanliest post of the day all locked up I slap you with this one. Winner: me! Wait... I won right?

You Write Like A Girl!

The ultimate insult is very difficult to achieve, but when done correctly it can be quite effective in making the target feel like a quivering mass of useless flesh. A putdown of that nature can be witnessed in the following video clip taken from The Sandlot.


"You play ball like a GIRL!" - Ouch!
Half-Fast was recently listed as one of the Top 100 Health and Wellness Blogs by the Nursing Online Education Database (NOEDb). At first I was pretty happy about this news but then I went and actually read the review (emphasis mine):

"Vanilla" writes an entertaining blog about her running skills, where she claims that she's neither fast nor slow but always in the middle of the pack. Great advice on treadmill use and other sage tips.

Ughhh!! Shoot me! Shoot me now! 'Her' running skills? Yeah, I've got your great advice and sage tips RIGHT HERE! *grabs crotch in overtly masculine fashion*

This means one of a few of things: 1) Whoever compiled that list really hasn't spent a lot of time here at Half-Fast, I mean you don't have to scroll very far to see a post titled My Balls Ache. 2) I should never have written about my running skirt experience. 3) I write like a girl! I'm going to say it's probably the first one because that's easier on my ego. I actually suspect that the list was put together to get 100 health and wellness bloggers to link back to the NOEDb site while excitedly screaming to their readers "Look! I got linked in a Top 100 list! It's right here! Go see it!" And it is working to perfection, we running bloggers are like a pack of lemmings. On the other hand what do I care? Any publicity is good publicity right? Even if it isn't anatomically correct.

I guess that's the price I pay for trying to be anonymous. So if you're here for the first time from the NOEDb Top 100 link, welcome to Half-Fast, make yourself at home. My name's Ian and I'm a guy. I'm sorry if that disappoints you. Feel free to poke around my blog, my e-mail is up top in case you want to contact me, there are some links to some of my favorite posts on the right and please leave the seat up if you use the bathroom while you're here.

Words I Refuse To Use

There are certain words that you will not see on this blog. Ever. With the exception of this post, because how else would I tell you about them. Oh, and another exception would be the comments section because I know that some of my fine commenters use these words on occasion. No other exceptions… until further notice.

I hereby pronounce the following words banned at Half-Fast:

Half Mary: This is often used in running communities as an abbreviation of half marathon. A half marathon is 13.1 long miles. On October 14th this year the Denver Half Marathon will soundly kick my rump and I'd prefer not to have my rump kicker named after a girl thank you very much. I know that there are many runners who've run longer distances in shorter times, but this will be challenging for me and there will be no sissying it up by referring to it as a half mary. Not on this blog. It was bad enough that during my first attempt at skiing, I was humbled by a bunny slope named the Schoolmarm (more like the Widowmaker), I refuse to now also be humbled by something called the half mary. Perhaps I'll coin a new term; the Half Martin. I think that could catch on quite nicely, although I'm not entirely sure how much tougher Martin is than Mary, with apologies to any Martin's out there reading this... what are you going to do? Beat me up? I doubt it!

Fartlek: If there's anyone reading this who's not familiar with this term you can find an excellent definition of it here. I don't mind when other people use this word but to be blatantly honest with you I think I'm a little too immature to use it. I just don't trust myself to write it without resorting to childish, grade school jokes and none of us wants to see that here on Half-Fast. I'll stick to calling it speedwork or interval training and leave the fartleks to the more serious bloggers who can handle the responsibility of using the word appropriately.

Jog: This also includes any variation of the word, jogging, jogger etc. I'm a runner. I run. Even when I'm doing a recovery run I still consider it running. Everyone has their own opinion on this but that's mine. I know that I used the word in my running vs jogging debate, but there was really no way around it.

Onomatopoeia: Because why would I ever need to use this word on my blog?

That's it for now. Just those four words. I'm sure that I'll have more to add in the future.

Things Only I Find Interesting

The Bolder Boulder race pictures have been posted. (If you ran the race and are looking for your photos you can find them here at brightroom.com, you’ll just have to search by bib number or name). Here’s a few of mine for your viewing displeasure, I’m the guy in the blue shirt. I am happy with them because last year when I looked at my Bolder Boulder race photos I thought that I looked tired and slow. My wife didn’t think that it was possible to look slow in a still photograph, but I assure you it is.

Some interesting stats about my time
- I ran in the 'ME' wave with my wife so that we could start together and out of 691 runners participants in our wave I finished 26th. Not too shabby!
- Based on last year’s time I qualified to run in the 'EC' wave and had I run in that wave I would have finished 124th out of 417 runners, assuming the same time.
- Of the 431 men my age (31) who finished I was 193rd.
- 49 men over the age of 65 beat me including an 80 year old who finished in 51:59. OK, you can get up off the floor and stop laughing now. Actually you can’t. Wait until you read the next one…
- 4 women over the age of 65 beat me (two of them were 70). Ouch! My ego is officially bruised.

A couple more pictures of me trying to get around people at the finish.

I Completed my First 10 Mile Run

Of course you already knew that if you read my Personal Running Log post below, but I assume that no one else reads those and I post them mostly for my own reference. I’m not sure how that is different than any of the other posts here but there you have it. My training plan called for a 10 mile run and I’ve been doing my long runs at roughly a 10 min/mile pace. I finished this one in 1hr 43min and I was pretty tired at the end of it but it felt good to have run the full 10 miles.

At about mile 8 I was starting to really labor, when some young kid (probably 16 or 17 years old) overtook me. He had his hat on backwards, his shirt off, and probably less total body fat than I have in one leg. He was moving swiftly and gracefully, or I was just plodding along, probably both. It was fantastic.

Just then, the song I was listening to ended and ‘Til I Collapse by Eminem came on. It’s one of my power songs. All of a sudden my legs didn’t feel as tired, my lungs were filled with air, and I started reeling him back in. Now, I’d love to be able to describe how I caught up to this young kid, but my renewed surge lasted all of 15 strides. Cooler heads prevailed, or perhaps it was just fatigue that prevailed. I’d already gone 8 miles and I had to keep telling myself that today’s workout was about endurance, not speed. If I wanted to last for 2 more miles I was going to have to keep a measured pace. (Incidentally, a ‘measured pace’ is just something slow people say).

So I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and I kept on at my ‘measured pace’. About a half a mile down the path I came around a blind corner and there’s young Hasty McFleetfoot standing still with his head over his knees, catching his breath. He’s turned around on the trail and is on his way back. He looks up and sees me, and instantly he’s running again. Vindicated!

If there’s one thing that writing this blog has taught me it’s that apparently I have vanity issues when I’m running. Who knew?

That Wasn’t Me You Saw Running

No, it wasn’t me, at least not the real me. When you run past me on the trail I see you coming and I prepare myself. I lengthen my stride, I puff up my chest, I suck in my gut, I pick up my pace, I smile, I do everything I can to appear relaxed and in control, because this is easy and I’m fast. And if you're a woman... double that. I'm not even sure what it would mean to double that, but I do it, and you know why? Because I'm fast and this is easy.

How long have you run so far? Seven miles? Pssssht - I've already gone nine miles... oh... you said eleven? I said nineteen and I've got another 10 planned... and then I'll turn around and head back, because I'm fast and this is easy.

Do you see my shoes? They’re expensive, brand name running shoes, you know why? Because I’m not some amateur runner who only recently started running and has to run in his Skechers. No, I’m fast and this is easy.

Do you see my expensive runners sunglasses? You probably think that they’re just for show, but that’s because you’re not as fast as I am. When I run the bugs come at me so fast I have to wear eye protection, it’s astonishing that the State of Colorado hasn’t enacted a mandatory helmet law for me, because I’m fast and this is easy.

Do you see my technical running shirt? It’s designed to control my body temperature. Without it I would probably burst into flames. It’s also designed to wick away sweat and keep me dry, but I don’t sweat, and do you know why? Because I’m fast and this is easy.

Is that you running up ahead of me? Not for long. Now that’s you running behind me, because I’m fast and this is easy.

Riding your bike on the trail? Not me! I’m using my legs, I like the challenge and your bike looks too effortless. Are you even pedaling? Weak! Rollerblading? Weak! Walking or even worse wogging? Weak? Gliding in your Heelys? Weak, and you look beyond ridiculous at your age! None of that stuff is for me, I run. And do you know why? Because I’m fast and this is easy.

When I get back home, I’m all sweaty, I’m literally oozing testosterone from my pores and my ‘sexy’ is at dangerously high levels, my wife wants me. She thinks I’m hot. She usually takes me back to the bedroom and you know why? Because even there, I’m fast and this is easy.