Speedwork For Losers

Having more or less embraced the rigors of consistent training again this month, it seemed only fitting that I should stop by the track for some speed work. However, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the experience.

And had I known that I’d get teased by two overweight ladies in the process, I would have dreaded it even more.

First, some background: like most distance runners, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with track workouts. Even when my fitness is at its peak, I’ve never known them to be a pleasurable experience.

After all, the very point is to push beyond your comfort zone, running specific distances at the fastest speed you can consistently maintain. Such an effort stimulates your body into producing necessary adaptations that make your next attempt at the same speed incrementally easier. And when those adaptations happen, you push beyond them again, and again, and over and over as many times as you can tolerate over the course of a training cycle.

In other words, the workout’s not for sissies. And occasionally, I suppose I’m guilty of wearing my effort on my sleeve.

That was the case on Monday, as I did a set of 8 x 400m intervals with a one-lap rest between them. The first few were a controlled effort, but as my legs grew heavier and my lungs burned hotter with each passing interval, my breathing became deeper and more audible, and my laboring became more noticeable to other people around the track.

In particular, my efforts caught the attention of a pair of ladies sitting in the first row of bleachers directly in front of my start/finish line. I had briefly noticed them while I was warming up – a pair of “heavy but not yet obese” walkers in their mid-twenties, wearing cotton sweats and chatting their way through a few laps before sitting down to continue their conversation at the end of the home straight.

They remained there as I finished lap after lap, looking and sounding worse with each passing interval. Finally, after my final 400m, I let out a loud gasp and staggered a few steps onto the infield. It was shortly after I leaned onto a tall fence to hold me upright while I kept panting that I heard one of my spectators say this to the other:

“He sounds like one of those people on The Biggest Loser.”

And then they both giggled.

Now … before you think this is turning into an insult-fest between me and two chubby antagonists, I’ll say this: I took the high road. I caught my breath for a few more seconds before glancing in their direction and shuffling into some cool-down laps. At first I took the comment as a simple amusement – but then I was reminded of my favorite TBL moment thus far this season, and I thought there might actually be some truth to their remark.

That moment is in the video clip that follows – it’s trainer Bob’s meltdown with slacker Joelle, as he implores her to, essentially, harden the F up and push through a simple workout. If you don’t like bleeped-out F-bombs, you might want to skip this video. If, on the other hand, you love them like I do, feel free to indulge here (click to play):



That may be the coolest four minutes of TV I’ve seen this year (at least until tonight’s Lost premiere – but that’s a separate post). And you know what? Those ladies at the track were right: I am like one of those people on The Biggest Loser. But it’s not Joelle – it’s Bob.

At least, I’m leaning towards Bob more and more lately. Sure – during the off season, my inner Joelle breaks loose and invades the cookie jar and devours anything in sight while simultaneously hogtying my body to the mattress each morning – but both she and I know that it’s only a temporary reign. And now is the time when I traditionally run her down into submission, and tuck her back into the tiny box in the far recesses of my mind that she’ll occupy for the next seven months or so.

Finally, speaking of time, and so I can paraphrase Bob from the above video … guess how long most of my 400m intervals took!

EIGHTY F**KING SECONDS!! (Clapping my hands slowly now) EIGHTY! F**KING! SECONDS!!

Not that that’s particularly fast or slow – I just like to *almost* swear every now and then. It’s one more little thing that helps me to feel tough. At this point, I'll use whatever motivation I can get.

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Pride

"Free at last! They took your life -

They could not take your pride."

- U2, "Pride (In the Name of Love)"

Two years ago, I described (in this post) how two of my kids, then-aged 8 and 5, sat and watched a YouTube video of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in August of 1963. I marveled at the beauty of the information age, and the way my children could become so easily familiar with a historic moment that I didn’t see in its entirety until I was in college.

(That’s the way it should be, really – in fact, the speech should be required viewing for all Americans. I’d embed it here – but I really like one website I found that features the text along with the video. So your civic duty for today is to click there and contemplate Dr King’s words – I’ll link to the site when we’re done.)

What I never imagined, however, was how my kids would see the hope and idealism of Dr King’s words come to fruition so quickly in their young lifetimes.

Over the next 48 hours, our children will witness what could perhaps be the most historic confluence of occasions this country has ever seen: the national holiday recognizing a man who gave his life for peace and equality, and the inauguration of a President who is the embodiment of that long-elusive dream.

Honestly, I have no idea what kind of leader President Obama will become. What’s indisputable, though, is this: as he stands at the podium delivering his inaugural address, after taking the oath of office on Lincoln’s Bible, with the memorial where Reverend King inspired millions gleaming across the National Mall in the distance, it will represent a watershed moment in the history of this country. Echoes of the past will meet the promise of the future head on, and a new era of hope and possibility – one that many of us never imagined we’d see - will have finally dawned.

So how do you explain all of these ramifications to grade school kids? In all likelihood, you can’t. I guess you just make sure they make note of the occasions, then explain the long, treacherous journey that brought us to this point in small doses as they grow old enough to appreciate them.

For those of us who are old enough to understand, though, the meaning of these two days is undeniable. If MLK were here to see it, one imagines that his heart would soar with pride.

And since we’re on the subject of pride, and Dr King – and since I seem to be featuring a certain band (who happened to play at this weekend's inauguration party) on this blog quite a bit lately - there’s one inevitable choice for today’s video selection: it’s my favorite version of U2’s “Pride (In the Name of Love)”, recorded live for the 1988 film Rattle and Hum:



Afterwards, go watch Martin Luther King’s speech for yourself, and remember to appreciate the times we're living in today. We still have some work to do, but we're closer now than we've ever been before.

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Running With The Raven

If you’re a runner and haven’t heard of Robert “The Raven” Kraft, chances are that you might in the near future.

Kraft is perhaps the best-known of a growing club of “streakers” – people who run every single day, for months and years and even decades at a time. Streakers have their own national organization, and several websites maintain “official” listings of the longest ongoing streaks all over the world (The Raven is currently ranked #11).

The Raven is well-known primarily because 1) he has a streak of over 34 years, and 2) he’s quite skilled at self-promotion. He has a fairly information-dense website with his bio, pictures, and numerous press releases documenting his streak. He was the subject of a terrific in-depth profile by ESPN, who will return to film him as he approaches an upcoming landmark this spring (details below).

Perhaps what sets him apart the most, however, is how he welcomes and celebrates anybody who is able to join him on his daily 8-mile run. His website includes an open invitation to join the Raven - and that’s just what my friend Mike did during a recent vacation. Naturally, we turned it into a Monterey Herald article, which follows below.

Honestly, the whole notion of streaking seems ridiculous* to me, on too many levels to go into here. Nevertheless, I have to admit feeling a bit of admiration for The Raven, and the number of people all over the world whom he has influenced in a positive way. Many of us would like to inspire the masses; very few actually go out and do it. The Raven is one of them.

(*and on a similarly ridiculous note: I can't write about anything named "The Raven" without thinking of The Simpsons' brilliant spoof - featuring the immortal line "Quoth the Raven, 'Eat my shorts!'" - from their original Halloween episode in 1990. I'm the first to admit, my maturity level is sorely lacking - but as a childish indulgence, that video follows this post)

**
Running Life 1/15/09 "Running With The Raven"


On Jan. 1, 1975, 23-year-old Robert "The Raven" Kraft ran eight miles in the sand on Miami's South Beach. He started running because he felt frustrated that his songwriting career was at low ebb; one of his songs had been stolen and made into a fairly large country hit and he received no credit.

A funny thing happened that day; something that happens to a lot of new runners. Kraft was invigorated yet calm. His anger had mellowed, and he felt great satisfaction from those eight miles. Running often grabs you when you most need it.

He made running a habit. Many would call it an obsession. Amazingly, the Raven just completed his 34th year of running on South Beach without missing a day. That's over 12,400 days of running in a row.

Along the way, he's become a bit of a celebrity. He's an icon on Miami Beach, and his fan base extends around the world. People travel from far and wide to run with the Raven. He maintains a list of them — one that now approaches 800 runners, from every state and 54 foreign countries. To date, the Raven has run 99,300 miles, and should pass 100,000 on March 29. When he does, ESPN will be there to cover it.

In a sport where injuries are the norm, the Raven never misses a day to sickness or muscle pain. He runs through all kinds of weather: hurricanes, hail storms, heat and humidity. He's as reliable as the US Postal Service.

He came close to missing a run once, when he was hospitalized for a concussion and needed 17 stitches to close a nasty wound. Luckily, some lifeguard friends smuggled him out of the hospital for his daily run, then returned him after the eight miles were finished.

As you can imagine, Kraft is a creature of habit. He's called the Raven because he always wears Black spandex shorts, black socks, black headband, and one black wristband. He has long black hair, mustache, and beard. He always runs shirtless and has a dark tan.

The Raven's also a bit of a philosopher. He chose eight miles for his run because "seven seemed too short, and nine seemed too long." He runs the same eight miles each day, in loops starting from the 6th Street lifeguard pier. Sometimes he loops in one direction, sometimes the other. He never travels out of Miami; in fact, he doesn't even own a car.

The Raven never does races. He runs for the simple pleasure of how it makes him feel, although he admits that his streak has become an obsession.

Nicknames are a big part of his persona, as Mike and his family found out while running with the Raven on a vacation to South Beach a few weeks ago. During the run, the Raven questions you about your life, and anoints you with a nickname after you have completed the run. Then he inscribes you on "the list."

The day Mike ran there were a dozen runners who earned the nicknames Burke's Law, Chapter 11, The Reverend, Seaside Sparrow, Interrogator, Cooker, Tax Man, Wine Taster, and Unruly Julie. Mike is now known as Just Run, his wife is the Fiction Reader, his son Bryan is Pedicab Man, and Bryan's fiance Melanie is Zot.

It is a pleasure and an honor to run with the Raven. Next time you don't feel like running, take a page out of the Raven's book. We hope that he and you may run evermore.

**

"The Raven", from The Simpsons' Treehouse of Horror (click to play):

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ProWash Detergent Review

It’s product review time! But before I tell you about the product, you have to indulge me in a little story.

Sometime during her first pregnancy, something very odd, and somewhat life-changing happened to my wife. It was like something out of a superhero comic, like when Peter Parker was bit by the radioactive spider and developed special powers – only the abilities my wife took on weren’t nearly as cool as wall crawling or night vision.

Basically, she acquired a highly advanced sense of smell.

As strange as her superpower seems, it comes in handy fairly often. For example, as soon as we walk into the house, she can tell if our cat has thrown up while we were away. She has the undisputed final say as to the freshness of any item stocked in the fridge. And presumably, if our house ever sprung a gas leak, she’d be able to warn me before I inadvertently blew us to oblivion. It’s reassuring to have a resource like that in your corner.

However, when it comes to my running gear, her gift becomes a major annoyance.

When I come home from a run, I’m not allowed to go anywhere near her. When I hang clothes out to dry, she maintains a 10-foot radius from them at all times. And sometimes, even after I wash my clothes, she can tell that the odors aren’t completely gone.

So you can appreciate my interest in being asked, along with some fellow bloggers, to try a new product geared specifically at cleaning athletic wear. And when the sample of ProWash detergent arrived, we put it to quick use.

ProWash is supposedly formulated to clean the synthetic materials that comprise most running clothes – those garments that are great at wicking moisture, but also retain all the odor-causing bacteria that make your clothes reek long after they’ve aired dry.

ProWash can be used two ways: as the primary detergent for an entire load of laundry, or as a “booster” to the detergent you already use. I did my initial laundry load with just the ProWash, and used it as a supplement thereafter – which, considering the price (see below), would be my recommended method of use.

So how does it work? Honestly, I can’t really tell. I mean … it’s laundry detergent. You wash your clothes with it, and they smell better than when they started. My nose isn’t nearly sophisticated enough to appreciate the difference. That's why I'm deferring to an expert opinion.

My wife tells a different story. She claims that she noticed a difference with the first batch of laundry we did, and that it smelled cleaner than usual after we wash clothes. Perhaps most telling, however, is that she’s instructed me to keep using it. If I’m taking a batch of clothes to the washer, she’ll yell out, “Be sure to put some of that new stuff in there!”

So apparently, to discriminating noses, there’s a big difference. And when it comes to recommending ProWash, that’s probably the best, most informed endorsement I can offer.

ProWash isn’t exactly cheap – the best price I found was three 24-oz pouches for $23 at Amazon.com (where the product has a 4-star average rating). But if you use it as a supplement in small doses, or only with loads of technical fabric clothing, it can probably stretch a long way. (It’s also sold at Walmart, but I couldn’t find a listed price online.) The bottom line is, if you’re battling to get odors out of your running gear – or if your spouse has similar superhero traits as mine – it’s probably worth a try.

See other product reviews on right sidebar. If you'd like a product reviewed, contact me at info@runningandrambling.com.

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Getting Up Eight

“Fall seven times, get up eight.”
- Japanese proverb

I’ve been laboring a bit over the past couple of weeks to get back into the swing of this training business.

I know that gradually, things will get easier – but for now, I still struggle to drag myself out of bed in the early mornings, I’m reluctant to set aside more than a couple of hours for my weekend runs, and I dread trying to hang with a group of faster runners on a weekly 12-mile trail workout (which, now that I mention it, happens to be tomorrow. Ugh.). Right now, I just need to hang tough and know that my body will figure out the details in due time.

On a related note, I went bike riding with my youngest daughter last weekend.

She turned five last fall, and ever since then, she’s been bugging me on a nearly weekly basis to strip the training wheels off of her bike so she can ride on two wheels, like her brother and sister did when they were five. Last Saturday, she finally got her wish.

My teaching method for riding a two-wheeler is somewhat unorthodox (and in my humble opinion, kind of cool): I strap on a pair of rollerblades, and ride behind the bike, steadying it with one hand under the seat while my daughter pedals. When she starts balancing a little better, I gradually ease my grip until she’s riding without assistance. It’s a pretty decent method of providing just enough correction to avoid multiple knee-scraping crashes.

The process isn’t easy, though. My daughter and I spent the better part of an hour swerving all over the playground, with the bike tipping erratically to either side as she leaned too far in one direction or turned the handlebars excessively in the other. She occasionally got her legs tangled in the pedals, took a few scrapes from the chain, and picked herself off the asphalt far more times than she anticipated.

It was after one such instance, when she got up a little more slowly than usual, that I suggested we take a short break. That’s where we had the following exchanges:

Daughter: This is really hard.

Me: Yeah. It’s like this for everybody. It gets easier, though.

Daughter: [Brother and sister] crashed a lot too, right?

Me: Yup. That’s the way it works – you fall a lot of times, but you just keep trying, and eventually you learn how to do it.

Daughter: OK.


And then, about five seconds later …


Daughter: Dad?

Me: What?

Daughter: Are you ready to try again?

Me: You bet.


I can’t say that she made remarkable progress after that – but by the end of the day, she had a few brief rides without my hand on the seat, and that was enough to keep her encouraged to try again another day.

Resiliency, focus, determination – these qualities are in ample supply with most 5-year-olds; so why is it so hard to find those same characteristics in ourselves after we become adults? My daughter struggled with learning a two-wheeler, but it’s a complete no-brainer that she’s going to hang tough for a while and let her body figure out the details in due time. All I need to do is follow her example for a few weeks, and things will work out fine for me as well.

Sometimes when I’m trying to teach my kids something, I stop and wonder which of us is actually the one who needs the lesson. More often than I’d like to admit, it’s pretty much a coin flip in that regard.

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State of the Blog 2009

“I want to run – I want to hide –
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside … ”
- U2, “Where the Streets Have No Name”

**

I’ve had some time to settle into the new page design, so it’s only hospitable to give you a tour of my humble cyber-abode.

It also seems like a good time to talk about potential substantive changes to this blog in addition to the cosmetic ones in the upcoming year – but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Let’s just start the tour:

1. Three (or four) is the magic number

Like just about everybody else who uses Blogger, I was long frustrated with the vertical page layout of most templates – more specifically, with the difficulty in expanding the width of the page to keep more information “above the fold,” in newspaper speak. In fact, that’s the most common remark I’ve received about the current layout – how it uses the width of the page much more effectively.

As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the makeover. If you scroll all the way down to the bottom of this page, you’ll see acknowledgement to Our Blogger Templates, who have several 3- or 4-column templates compatible with Blogger. Best of all, they’re free. So if you’re shopping for a new template, go check them out – especially since the link I just included saves you the trouble of scrolling down my page.

(The transition hasn’t been flawless, though. More on that in a minute.)

2. Where’s Weezer?

One keepsake that didn’t make the move with me is the sidebar video I updated on a regular basis. That section, most recently occupied by Weezer’s “Troublemaker”, held a place of high regard - both in my heart and on the webpage.

However, I realized that videos tend to be popping up more and more frequently in my regular posts lately. It’s a direction I’d like to keep traveling, especially since 1) multimedia becomes more easily accessible every day, and 2) it’s much more effective for me to just show you a video that I’m referring to rather than take 1,000 words to explain it. Trust me - the less I write, the better off we’ll all be.

(And just to make sure you believe me, there’s a new video at the end of this post. Think of it as your reward for making it to the end.)

One more thing on this subject: about three months ago, I started adding labels to each of my posts, which are listed in a sidebar at right. As you can see, the most prevalent label is “music” – even more than running, swimming, or the Western States 100. (I mean ... it's kind of too late for me to change the blog title, right?) I guess what I’m saying is - music’s just a huge part of me, so I’ve decided to embrace it.

3. Dancing with the devil

Yes, there are ads here. Yes, it’s an awkward situation to put myself in.

If it’s any consolation, my mind isn’t completely made up on this subject. I wouldn’t say that my marriage with advertisers is a happy one; I don’t feel satisfied, and I’m often frustrated, and most days I wonder if I’d just be better off without them. On other days, I think that maybe things will work out nicely if I just hang in there a while longer.

Basically, I can’t make up my stinking mind. Have I mentioned before that I'm an idiot?

4. This space for rent

While hosting ads is a moral dilemma of sorts, I have no qualms whatsoever about doing product reviews, which remain on the right sidebar. It’s good for me to test out gear that I wouldn’t otherwise try, good for you to learn whether they’re worth spending money on, and good for the companies who get promoted (assuming, that is, that their products don’t suck). It’s a win-win-win for everybody involved.

Of course, in order for the reviews to be helpful, I have to actually, you know … write them. On that note, I have three different products that I’ll be telling you about in the weeks ahead. Stay tuned for details.

5. Look both ways

See those cool sidebars on either side of the blog? This was where I ran into some trouble installing the new template. Many of the link lists were lost in transition - and what’s more, my blogroll wouldn’t import from Google reader properly.

I ended up putting in the links by hand, which means it’s probably rife with error. If you’re normally on my list, take a look to the left and see if you’re still there, and if the link actually works. If not, let me know.

Heck, as long as we’re at it – let’s go ahead and open this up to anyone who asks. Want a link? Just contact me.

One final sidebar note that’s always worth a reminder: subscription information (e-mail or reader) is at upper right. And if you act within the next five minutes, I’ll even throw in free shipping.

(That’s enough administrative notes for one post, don’t you think? Let’s get on with the fun stuff …)

6. Where the blog has no name

We’ve reached the video portion of the post, which actually ties in rather nicely with the new blog theme. It’s also a continuation of my recent adulation of the greatest band of our (or possibly any – that’s up for debate) generation.

There’s an old saying in Northern Ireland that it’s possible to determine someone’s religion based on the street in Belfast he lives on. You can also guess the person’s salary from his address on that same street (the higher income homes are further up the hill).

Bono took this notion and crafted a song envisioning an area where people aren’t judged by the part of town they inhabit, or the house that they live in, or their chosen manner of worship. A place where nobody is confined to other people’s values or expectations; where anyone can move and act in any way the spirit leads him.

And this is kind of a stretch, but … that’s kind of how I’m feeling about this blog nowadays. It’s always been ostensibly about running – but I often want to spread my wings a bit and try some other topics without having to relate them to my training regime. I enjoy writing about music, my family, my hometown, my favorite books and authors, or whatever current events happen to inspire me in some unexpected way.

For the next six months, there’s no question that my thoughts and writings will focus on the Western States 100 – honestly, there’s really no way they couldn’t. Beyond that, however, I’m reserving the right to tear down the walls of this blog a bit, and explore some new avenues that I haven’t journeyed down before.

Certainly, when I do, you’ll all be welcome to come along with me. In the meantime, here’s “Where the Streets Have No Name”, U2’s opening anthem from The Joshua Tree. The song's idealistic yearning, soaring passion, and infectious rhythm make it one of my favorites that they've ever made:



(I've actually got one more cool story about this video ... but I've held you long enough already. It will have to wait for another day.)

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The Year of Running Perfectly (Well ... Sort Of)

Sometimes these parallels are right under my nose, and I still manage to miss them.

It didn’t occur to me until after I posted our New Year’s article - and remembered another one we had previously written - just how closely the sometimes fickle dedication of runners mirrors the seemingly capricious devotion of religious disciples all over the world. More specifically, I didn’t realize how much the sport of running is like The Year of Living Biblically.

AJ Jacobs’ fascinating book (subtitled One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible) describes – in both hilarious and insightful fashion – how he spent a year trying to follow every one of the Bible’s instructions for daily living. Not just the easy ones (for example, Don’t marry your wife’s sister) or the famous ones (Thou shalt not steal), but also the ones that are frightening (like handling serpents) or inconvenient (leaving your beard untrimmed) or ridiculous (stealing the egg of a mother bird). He wore clothes of unmixed fibers. He took part in an animal sacrifice. He even stoned an adulterer, in a fairly comical way.

Jacobs ultimately reaches the conclusion that no matter how hard someone tries, it’s impossible to follow an absolutely literal interpretation of the Bible even for one day, let alone for a year. Some of the standards are unattainable (try to make it through a day without coveting something), while others are conflicting (should you take an eye for an eye, or turn the other cheek?). It’s simply beyond our human capacities to follow every rule we’re supposed to.

Instead, each of us – either through our own interpretations, or those identified by religious leaders – selects a particular set of rules that we try to follow as closely as possible. We assign a certain hierarchy to those we feel are most crucial (pretty much everyone agrees that murder is wrong), and disregard those of seemingly lesser importance (is it really a crime to plant a garden of two different seeds?)

Shortly after finishing the book, I recalled a Monterey Herald article we wrote two years ago, facetiously instructing runners how to have the perfect day. It was a list of rules culled from all the usual suspects: fitness magazines, health studies, self-help gurus, and conventional wisdom.

The point of the first article was this: obviously, nobody will ever have a perfect day. You pick the rules that are most important to you – those that will have the most impact on your life - and do the best you can to live by them as frequently as possible. Last week’s article was another reminder that just because you let some of those rules slide, it doesn’t mean you should give up trying.

Running isn’t a religion; then again, in some ways, maybe it is. Either way, one thing is certain: between now and the end of June, I need to start following a lot more rules than I have been lately. I know I won’t be perfect – but from this point forward, I vow to remain dedicated to doing the best I can.

Truthfully, that’s all that any of us can pledge to do.

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