I Make Love To Pressure

Maybe it's not what I live for, but I can buy it a drink and say I'll respect it in the morning.

Anyways. Back to an hour a day, even if I'm not much faster than sneezing on peyote. Start at 6:30 am again on Tuesday; Spike on Wednesday. This is how the West was won.

Tang Game Proper

Tomorrow I'll be running again for the first time in a couple of weeks. Starting over feels "weird" but "so does everything else"

So, Plan: a bit of a Kenny Duckworth cannonball at first, then just try to work up from there. Bootstraps. I have been gifted a running watch, cold weather running shirt, and, most importantly, I've got enough GU Energy Gel and GU CHOMPS to dip it, pop it, twirk it, stop it to that finish line.

Lay Some Treats On Us

Boomshakalakalaka.

Well.

As Eli pointed out, my perfect marathon record is actually still intact. It's like when Dixon started the other night in the Steelers/Ravens game with the higest (100%) completion record of any NFL quarterback. (It's not really anything like that, but did you watch that game? Pretty easy to be a statistician when QB3 plays.)

No but seriously, I failed. With gusto. There has been flu and excessive blood loss out of my face, which I lied about having under control. Then two nights before Seattle (Friday) when I was in Davis there was the worst... food poisoning(?)(??) I've ever had in my entire life, ever. It's now Tuesday afternoon and I'm still yelling at my shoes if I recklessly adventure beyond water. My insides are just straight Battle of Borodino up in here.

In conclusion, bullshit. I was really excited about the half marathon and more excited about getting to do all of this with Christian and Egge. It takes a real jerkoff to miss out on Four Lokos and pals that I rarely get to see anymore. Christian was nice enough to pick up my race number/shirt, which will forever commemorate my total inability to accomplish anything. And I've been so busy feeling miserable that I didn't even call in time to wish them luck. Double bullshit. GUYS: I'm still going to visit Seattle, hopefully soon. If you want to chase me for 13.1 miles or something, like in a car with a megaphone, I would be okay with that. Just spitballing here.

Anyways, where does that leave Pasadena? I am now going to fucking live for that marathon. Fingers crossed I'll be able to start running again, even if it's a whole lot less than I had been before this mess, in the next week. Spike will be in LA over my sister's winter break and "excuses" hold no water with her, so I'm counting on being back to my previous running schedule by Christmas. There will also be more running outdoors, more hills, graduating to the Mt.Wilson Toll Road, and boxing four times a week. Straighten your pantyhose, ladies. I've got a lot to make up for and a 3hour goal to meet.

Nothing's Free In Waterworld

In other news, all running has been suspended indefinitely on account of: turncoats. Certain organ systems would apparently love to lose the War of 1812 for the republican democracy and/or fuck with the Seattle Half Marathon, in that order. ("I have come here to prop up British Monarchy and ruin your goals... and I'm all out of British Monarchy.")

And so, tomorrow, I go back to the doctor. The doctor.

3rd And Long

How it is already the three week countdown I don't know, but them's the breaks.

1. Last week's mile count was +/-70, with the margin of error being mind your own beeswax
2. I got a new sports bra that I would like to award four out of a possible five goddamnits. Don't get me wrong, it straps that shit down like I'm on a shuttle launch at Cape Canaveral, but it also has a deceptively low front that may push PG-13. I mean really, why would that ever be necessary? Fuck you, Title IX (which is undoubtedly responsible for this).
3. Attitude: improved. Running? Not so much.

Tomorrow it's back to hill sprints, which are really more like hill shuffles, or hill Russian bear on ice skates. I'm pretty resolved to my performance in Seattle being the equivalent of that biplane crashing into a barn, only on loop for 13.1 miles. The best I can hope for is that it'll give me a better idea what I need to do for Pasadena (eg "work harder"). Other bonuses include Thanksgiving in Davis and terrible malt liquor after the race to dull any physical/emotional pain.

*NOT YELLING JUST LOVE CAPS*

Today I am so tired of running that if it weren't for the high stakes of Seattle I would quit that shit twice. I spent a good 200 minutes this afternoon trying to sweat out my bad attitude and it just made more room for a worse one. Getting back on official schedule tomorrow, mile totals will now be posted on Sundays just because. Also because it makes more sense.

The Couch Is Calling My Name Like It Has Free Nights And Weekends

Because I had to read all of this, you do too.

Week 1/2/3

Monday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): Hill Sprints (5-6miles)

Tuesday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 40min @ "whatever" (4.5 - 5miles)

Wednesday: 120min (weeks 1, 3) or 100min (week 2) @ "easy pace"

Thursday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 60min @ "whatever" (6.5 - 7miles)

Friday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 30-45min elliptical (easy)

Saturday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 60min (incl. 4xmile @ 7.50-8min/mile with 90sec recovery) (7+ miles)

Sunday(AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 40min @ "whatever" (4 - 5miles)

Week 4 (taper)

Monday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 40min @ "whatever" (4 - 5miles)

Tuesday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 1/2 - 2/3rds workout, hills or distance (6 - 7miles)

Wednesday: 75min @ easy pace (8+ miles)

Thursday (AM): 40min @ 10min/mile (4miles)

(PM): 30-45min elliptical (easy)

Friday: Day Off

Saturday: 20-25min easy pace (2 - 3miles)

Sunday: Seattle Half Marathon (start @ 9:00 - 9:10 pace, drop to 8:45 after 7miles, 8:30 after 11miles)

Before I was mostly doing whatever I felt like, now I'm doing this. On the plus side it is totally Eli's fault if I fail.

(Oh and last week's mile count was "roughly 60" due to birthdays, extra-strength hangovers, and not caring all that much.)

More Bounce To The Ounce

100min run, 9min mile. 10min mile, 10min cooldown. Had to break in new shorts, find "comfort zone" (aka 9min). Told "maybe not cut out for this running thing" by both parents after embarrassing Rose Bowl performance (rude). Mt Wilson Toll Road is bullllllllllshit (9 miles one way after a 2mile hike just to get there, listed as "strenuous") so starting with Mt Lowe and yeah, ha ha ha, "ha"

Gone To Plaid

Tonight at a good ol boys dinner of Seagrams and wine I learned several things about my father's training methods for the New York Marathon. The greatest hits:

• He ran up and down the Mt Wilson access road "just on some weekends"
• Sometimes he went to the track, but not really

Alright that wasn't so much the greatest hits as it was "training methods, all." Now I couldn't help but think A) he'd been holding back this information to gain a competitive edge and B) this sounds like fairly thin gruel, even for the 70s. Turns out his finish time was roughly three (3) hours. Point being I am going to run the shit out of that mountain and, also, possibly become the Highlander.

What The Fuck Anymore

AND They Probably Went To State School

I wouldn't want to go out on a fucking limb here, but I'm fairly sure that this is the most important article written about sport, ever. It is basically the voice of a generation, thusly: "city marathons were like a beautiful, delicate flower that fat people ate and ruined, with their diabetes," end quote.

Purists believe that running a marathon should be just that-- running the entire course at a relatively fast clip. They point out that a six-hour marathoner is simply participating in the event, not racing in it. Slow runners have disrespected the distance, they say, and have ruined the marathon's mystique

I always ask those people, "What was your time?" If it's six hours or more I say, "Oh great, that's fine, but you didn't really run it"

Now that last gut-punch of we were all thinking it, she's just saying it comes from Julia Given, "a 46-year-old marketing director... [who] still finds ways to differentiate the 'serious runners' from those at the back of the pack." Julia recently finished the Baltimore Marathon in 4:05:52, which good on her because shit is not easy. But if Julia considers the first place finisher of said race had a time of 2:14:04 (or the 2:32:09 women's leader) then her own running needs serious work (oh ho HO, "ho").

Julia and her purist crew have drawn a line slightly below their own accomplishments, which is probably a great distraction from the fact that none of them will ever be competitive. Were they to actually get their wish and the field strictly limited, these brave champions of FWPs would likely either become bottom of the barrel or simply not qualify at all. Do you know who is not represented in this article? Anyone that actually is an elite runner. My guess is they are too busy not giving a fuck (or: winning).

There are probably plenty of overweight people trying to get a shirt and a medal in any given city marathon, but luckily if you hustle (something they are unable to do sans Jazzy) they can't catch you so as to offend your eyes or gnaw your calf. Look Julia, baby, your slightly under 10 min mile marathon is like being the fastest child molester. And child molesters all get the same sweet ass judicial prize regardless of tempo because, at the end of the day, they molested a child. At the end of the day, some number of people wound up 26 miles away from where they started. That is a marathon. That's it.

Who Run Bartertown?

Guys I have a new marathon partner:

Spike is the best at running. She pulled me probably faster than an 8min mile for about an hour this morning and when we got back she wanted to play frisbee or, even better, could I stop crying like a little girl and hit the god damn pavement again, god damn it. We compromised with her being allowed to obliterate, Thunderdome-style, the meowing yahoos that woke me up this morning. Two cats enter, one dog leaves (sorry, Kathryn).

Where We're Going, We Don't Need Roads

TODAY: Five week countdown to the Seattle half-marathon. I'm going to start putting up my weekly mile totals here (on Thursdays), aiming between 50-70mi. This last week was probably over 80 so, you know, mulligan.

Going to the bay area this weekend, plan on keeping up my running schedule (more or less).

Aw, Buckle This

It is safe to say 6:30AM is the worst AM.

Spread It Out For You In A Nutshell

103 during the day and 75 at midnight actually starts cutting into my floating schedule too, which is as seriously serious as much as it is total baloney. But it has helped me learn that not every day needs to be a 15mile day (for now) and variety is good for staying 1. interested and 2. up past an 8pm bedtime. I knocked off morning training today because well pardon me, mr perfect, I forgot that you never, ever make a mistake and instead tacked an extra 10min on my run tonight and another 10 on cooldown. Still in the double digits for mileage, coasted through a 90min hill session, didn't want to eat a bullet afterward.

Sunday Rose Bowl called off due to weather and massive flea market so double dose of indoors tomorrow. And if you're one of those "I love to run in the heat" jagoffs you can blow me, along with the oh so smug, I also eat the core of the apple wastes of my time. You are the worst.

Plus Dome (Say Word)

It was probably 70degrees outside at 7 this morning. Bonus for afternoon floating, two thumbs way down for running. Feel like the day is "over before it began"

"Chip, You're A Five-Alarm Fuckup"

Waking up at 6:30 is a tough routine to enjoy, because shit is early. To help get the ball rolling, I took possibly a couple too many fistfuls of Ambien early last night in the hopes I'd actually get my full eight. Instead I 1) hallucinated my alarm 2) got dressed(ish) 3) fed my dogs 4) tripped over my shoes and fully wiped out 5) landed on my left knee which is now roughly eight shades of "mother sonofa" 6) noticed the oven clock read 12:48 and whatever, duh. Why wouldn't I totally screw up something as easy as opening my eyes. (Man, FWPs) 7) Went back to bed until noon.

WEDNESDAY, IN NUMBERS

1: Runs; Coffees; Happy Gilmores; Bottles of wine

2: Viewings of Point Break; Steven Segal movies (Glimmer Man, Fire Down Below)

5: Diet Cokes

So my knee hurts and tomorrow I switch to 8min jog/2min walk in the morning with alternating hill intervals in the afternoon. I'm coming for you, Chregge. Start saving the $5 all those Four Lokos will set you back. And you can keep the lava sauce.

Part The Second

Your registration is complete!

You will receive an email in the next few minutes confirming your registration.

Purchased at:

October 14, 2009 01:53 PM

Date & Time:

November 29, 2009 07:15 AM

Location:

Seattle Center (map)

Forget that found poem mess above, I'm not fixing it. Bootstraps, bitches. Anyways you get the general idea that I'm both hands in for the Seattle half marathon. Forty-Seven days (ish?) and counting-- loser buys Taco Bell and Four Lokos.

He Looks Like A Horse In A Man Costume

Your registration is complete!

You will receive an email in the next few minutes confirming your registration.

Purchased at:

October 12, 2009 06:50 PM

Event Name:

The 2010 Pasadena Marathon

Date & Time:

February 21, 2010 06:00 AM

Location:

Pasadena City College (map)

5 hours under the wire for early registration, I've officially thrown my hat into the ring.

"He's running the wrong way. Let's see how far he can go."

My neck of the woods has way too many goddamn hills, as if being awake and wearing pants wasn't hard enough already. All early morning runs will now take place at the Rose Bowl, which is 1. significantly more level 2. cluttered with strolling elderly who will make me feel like turbo boosters in a first gear kind of world. It is the little things.

Best music to run to, hungover or otherwise:

• Kenny Loggins. Fuck you if you aren't full-blown Rocky IV, Apollo is dead athletically inspired any time Footloose comes on. Or dancing-mad at John Lithgow. Whichever.
• Lionel Ritchie, Dancing on the Ceiling. This is just a good song.
• 90s punk, all.
• Nelly.

There it is, out to dry in the afternoon sun. So long as my answer to that is never "Chris Brown, on repeat" I see no reason for embarrassment. Everybody needs a hobby, and mine is having excellent taste in tunes.

Unanimous Consent

Oh no, got to get fit for a marathon. Man, FWPs

(Guys, seriously. Get into it.)

I Do Solemnly Swear That As Your President, I Will Goof Off And Eat Candy

On coach's orders, I'm not running anywhere this Saturday. The time usually dedicated to my first run was spent "sleeping it off" which is a technical term but basically means Eli abused his power and made me drink irresponsibly. The time for my second run was supposed to be baking pies and watching ponies but instead gave way to game day and maybe beers.

Good thing I'm not trying to be the best at exercise.

4 Will Relocate Your House Very Efficiently

FOR NOW:

6:30 AM 90 min walk/jog alternate, 5min intervals

3:30 PM 10min mile, 6+ miles

Next week I start actual "marathon training" because as a rich white person, I have to create my own adversity.

(This is almost as inspiring as my journey, and not just out of my love for Twister. Although mostly out of my love for Twister.)

I Have No One To Envy. I Envy You Having Me To Envy.

Jake decided to be an independent thinker and join the marathon bandwagon. He's (hopefully) going to run with me in LA come February. It's a good thing they don't give out style points because then this race would already be a lock.

Groundswell Of Support

"I'm running a marathon"

(response)

"I think that will involve getting off of your floaty"

"I Think I Popped My Implant"

If you're not watching Real World/Road Rules The Ruins, you should be, because I am on it. You can see me in the competitive spirit of each and every former castmate. In the triumph of overcoming the odds in weekly challenges (e.g. falling from great heights into water, answering basic trivia and falling from great heights into water, roid rage). In the quiet dignity that can be found in accepting your own limitations. This, my friends, is the true heart of athleticism.

There's No Crying In Baseball

The Dodgers DID clinch the NL West. I didn't give up drinking, but neither did I get wheeled out of the stadium on a stretcher like that other girl near us. And if beer were miles, then I would've run pretty far this weekend.

Boom.

(like this, only for 13.1 miles)

Now Egge's in the mix and there's no turning back. I don't care if it's for glory or taco bell or some third thing, the Pacific Northwest is about to get into it. Since Ally is only doing this because I am, there's even a chance I'll give up drinking to focus more on my marathoning goals and not make her sacrifices meaningless. History will decide.

Here's A Guy That When He Runs, He Goes Faster

Tomorrow is the two month countdown to the battle in Seattle. In taking the advice of the great humanitarian John Madden I'm not going to worry about the horse being blind, just going to load the wagon. Starting this week I will have actual progress reports. Probably of whether or not the Dodgers clinched the NL West, but progress reports nonetheless. Get excited because this is going to be Cool Runnings-level inspiring.

I Ate A Cheesecake, I Took A Nap, What More Can One Man Do?

Out of the goodness of my heart and in the spirit of teamwork I invited fellow marathon hopefuls Christian and Grant to participate in this blog. Their lack of enthusiasm was such that I have no choice but to doubt their commitment to excellence and athleticism as a whole. I guess I learned why there's no "I" in team and it's because fuck them, that's why. I don't need them to the extent that they're now a Garfield joke, and I think we all know there's no recovering from that.

Enjoy the lasagna of my dust, losers.

No That Was Dwayne Zachemore

Thankfully the weather has dipped below triple digits so I can get out of the gym and take it back 2 the streets. "But Meryl," you say, "Jared Leto as Prefontaine would work through the heat stroke." Maybe, I would respond, but he would also form vanity band 30 Seconds To Mars and beg, every day, for me to punch him in the mouth. Being Jordan Catalano cannot atone for every sin.

Around The Block In 80 Days

Well the LA marathon is out because it's pretty much on my sister's "wedding day," whatever that means. Instead of a touching homage to the sacrifice and endurance vital to any marriage it is apparently grounds for "estrangement," which, again, whatever that means.

I will now be participating in the Pasadena Marathon a full month earlier (February 21, 2010). Same distance, same principle of run for a long time until you are finished.

Christian Nelson, Everybody

CN: The only good thing about running a marathon is you can eat SOOO much lava sauce the next day

CN: and not even feel guilty

me: I'm serious. Hardcore training starts... tomorrow.

CN: Hell yeah.

CN: What will that involve

CN: bagel bites?

SURPRISING TWIST

I have just agreed to the Seattle half marathon with Christian as training. Is there no limit to my ACHIEVEMENT??

AND SO OUR HERO'S JOURNEY BEGINS

THE GAUNTLET HAS BEEN THROWN.

And no, not by anybody from the Real World or Road Rules, or any challenge thereof (I love you, Coral). No, these have much humbler, less reality TV origins. It is entirely possible that I got drunk maybe a little bit with my father, and we are now running in the LA marathon. First person to the finish line wins bragging rights for all time, which means goddamn everything.

There's no turning back.

There's no backing down.

There's a possibility that until I find greener pastures, Eli is my coach.

Now you're like, oh hey even with your crippling handicap of being a girl surely your youth will compensate for your father's extreme old age. And normally you'd be right. But you see, after he gave up being an athlete for pursuing whatever he also maintained his "physical achievement" quota by being a marathon runner. Don't you worry though, I've got 5 months. 5 months and this new blog to keep track of my progress. Staple your pants to your legs, because this is going to get real fucking exciting.