Day 22

As I’ve noted before, running is probably the sport that is closest to therapy. 

Swimming is meditative (kind of, since you are also trying not to drown), competitive sports like basketball and tennis don’t lend themselves to conversations (except when you’re playing the dozens against the guy who’s guarding you, or calling your opponent “Patty Melt” because he (i.e. me) was too slow to chase down a drop shot), and I keep getting told to be quiet during my workouts with Art at the gym.

But once you get your wind, running is like being next to a friend in the car on a long road trip with a broken radio. What else are you going to do but talk?

So when Josh came over to me on the couch and asked if I was planning to walk last night (I wasn’t), I agreed to go.

And we spent the whole time talking. It was really nice, just talking about stuff for an hour. What about?  Can’t tell you - runners privilege.

But I can say that my time was quite good for a walk that wasn’t really about walking. So thanks, son, for getting your old man off the couch for some sub-16 walking!

Day 21

I went radio silent this week because I was out of town, visiting my mother and sister for Thanksgiving. It was a great week, lots of food and family and catching up.

Unfortunately, it did not include much exercise. I played one round of golf and tried to walk as much of the course as I could, but it was the day after a heavy rain and the course was slippery - not optimum conditions for a walk in the park.

The rest of the time was in the house, playing games and cooking, which led to catastrophe number 2. While making homemade spaghetti sauce and meatballs, I mishandled a hot pan full of oil and butter, which left me with a burned right hand. I soldiered on and finished the dinner (which included a super-easy no-knead focaccia bread), but I paid the price with a gnarly blister on my middle right-hand finger:

Gross!

We returned on Saturday. I had hoped to get a long walk in after we got back, but our layover in Dallas ended up being five hours, and we didn’t make it home until 11:45 p.m.

So after that first-world ordeal, I slept late today and then went to storage for our Christmas decorations. Then I drove to Bellaire for a badly-needed jam session with my music buddies Dan, Ben, and John - these guys are good and they let me noodle around on my Korg keyboard as they play some mighty blues.

After that, I came home, checked my fantasy football scores (not great), and as the day began to slip away, I knew I needed to get out on the road.

Lisa was working at the kitchen table, and I told her that I was off for a walk and would be back in an hour, but secretly, I was ready to push myself. I started my usual five-mile route, but as I got within a mile of home, I kept walking down County Road 90 and extended the walk. In fact, I outlasted my rechargeable headphones and spent the last mile practicing a speech I have to give later this week at a legal conference.

I was wearing a pair of Saucony running shoes, which were in much better shape than the Brooks I wore a few weeks ago, and felt better than my Hokas, which still have that problem with the insole. The left quad was twinging a little, and my left heel and instep were stressing, but it was manageable. I was wearing a pair of Vuori running shorts with a boxer brief lining, and I had to adjust the boys a few times, but no real chafing.

Total miles: 7.72 in just over two hours. I averaged 16:08, with four sub-16 miles. The fifth mile was a 17:20 - not sure what was going on there - but I finished strong with a 16:02 and 15:45 for miles 6 and 7 respectively. After a pretty slow exercise week, this was really encouraging. 

Onward!

Days 15 and 16

I had planned eight on Sunday, but it turned into zero when the weather turned awful.

This sounds like a convenient excuse, and it is. But while I am fine with exercising in the cold, I really, really hate walking in the rain, particularly when it’s cold. It can settle into my lungs, and as a tall guy, the sidewalks can become dangerously slick. (I hate when people don’t powerwash their sidewalks precisely because of this.)

Nonetheless, this blog as an accountability device was working on Sunday night. I kept looking at my watch as bedtime approached, worrying about having to either explain another “rest day” or not blog at all, which would look bad. (I am irrationally proud of the string of daily posts to date, which is its own motivation.)

But the weather did not let up and it got too late, so I went to bed, unblogged and unhappy.

Today, it was another dreary day and it passed so quickly that I found myself on the couch looking out the window again, feeling guilty and worrying that I was failing my own program, a mere sixteen days into the process. How embarrassing would it be to give it up so soon after starting!

So, late in the evening, I got off the couch - in my street clothes! - and put on the Hokas and my beloved LL Bean dairy farmer coat and headed out for what I wanted to be a leisurely three-mile walk.

And as you can see below, it became a very productive session! My leisurely pace was under 16 minutes, and I extended the walk to over four miles.

And I feel redeemed, at least for a day.

Day 14

Quick post - Houston is cold and wet. I was watching for a cessation of the rain today to venture out, but no dice.

Fortunately, I did get some basketball in this morning. The Apple watch gives me a lot of love for the time I spend on the court, and my heart rate as recorded in the app corroborates that love.

Look at my heart going 147! A few years ago, I took up a collection to buy a defibrillator for the gym we play at. This was entirely selfish - I remain convinced I will eventually be a customer as I get older.

I hope the weather clears tomorrow. So much of this process is about momentum, and that momentum cuts both ways. The longer I miss my walks, the harder it is to get out there again.

So … if tomorrow is relatively clear, I’ll think hard about walking eight.

Gulp.

Day 13

This was a rest day for me, no walk today, although Art returned to work and put Avina and me through the paces in our usual noon workout. Bear crawls, farmers walks, tire flips, pulling Art with a rope as he sat on top of the tire, and about ten other things I kind of don’t want to remember.

As we neared the end of the hour, I asked Art, “So, are you impressed with my new commitment to fitness?”

“No,” he replied.

I must have looked a little hurt and confused, so he explained, “You’re now doing what you’re capable of doing, what you should be doing.” He paused and then did not say anything else.

Although I had been seeking his approval, I had to admit that there was some motivational truth to what he was saying. To get stronger, I would have to do more than what I was already capable of doing.

Here’s an example. The other day, I walked from my house to the intersection of Northfork Drive and Cullen Parkway, almost exactly 2.5 miles. At that point, I had a choice: I could turn around and retrace my route back home for an even five miles.  Or - and I thought very seriously about this - I could turn south on Cullen and return home by another route that would add another three miles to make it an eight mile walk. After some deliberation, I decided to head home the way I’d come since it was getting later and darker.

I told Art this, and he seemed disappointed, like he thought I should have challenged myself with the longer walk.

For me, however, the achievement was even contemplating doing it at all. I probably could have made the eight miles, but decided to be prudent for now. The marathon is now fifty weeks away, which is both a long time and a very short time to get into shape. I may try the long walk on Sunday because I will have to do it sometime and time is passing fast.

I also didn’t walk tonight because (1) it was raining; and (2) it was Gentlemen’s Dinner night with my friend Manni and his two sons, Max and Luca. My son Josh came along and we had a lively evening of fine food at Killen’s Steakhouse, discussing golf, cars, and how important it is to be able to both give and receive help to and from people who care about you.

My son Josh is the best - he gave these young men his time, attention and sincere advice. I am a lucky dad.

Back to it tomorrow after basketball!

Day 12

I know I wrote yesterday about how apprehensive I get about exercising in the dark, but the day had slipped away and I needed to exercise.

So off I went at about 6:15, already dark, cool but not cold (53 degrees), mostly solitary on the sidewalk.

Aside from two dog walkers who literally moved to the other side of the street as I approached (I must have loomed large in my midnight blue hoodie in the dark), the only person I encountered was a guy walking in the same direction I was going, but about ten percent slower. The effect of this was that I was very gradually getting nearer and nearer to him, again looming larger as I approached.

Sometimes, I don’t appreciate how big I am - but I can only imagine what I must have looked like, emerging from the dark, appearing to stalk this poor guy.

As I got closer, I started wondering how I should pass him. Should I do a quick jog and put some distance between us? Should I keep my walking pace and nod to him as I eased past him? Should I give him a quick “pardon me” and smile unthreateningly?

By this time, he had seen me coming, glancing over his shoulder and then trying to pretend he hadn’t. But then he’d do it again. He was like a guy in a Mini Cooper looking in his rear view mirror, worrying about the Range Rover on his tail, but not wanting to move into the slow lane because how could he live with himself, surrendering to some jerk in a big expensive car, driving like he owns the world?

I decided not to be a Range Rover. I picked up my pace, moved off the sidewalk, and gave him the “pardon me” smile as I passed by. He smiled back, maybe in relief.

Looming large in the dark…

As I was on the walk, my phone rang. It was Lisa, wanting to discuss some details about Christmas vacation. I tried to keep my pace going, but there’s something about holding your phone and conversing while exercising that breaks your focus. Look at my splits for this five mile walk and see if you can tell when I was on the phone:

The walk was okay - I was generously anti-chafed and wearing thick running socks and my Hokas. As the walk concluded, my feet were aching a little and the left quad started complaining a little, but not sharply. I will say that the last two hundred yards seemed to take forever, but I’m slowly easing back into my old marathoner’s patience - one step at a time.

I’m glad I braved the dark.

Day 11

I spent the day working on a brief for one of my clients, and by the time I looked up, it was time for me to leave for my periodic Movie Night at my friend Paul’s house.  

Paul has an excellent theater room with surround sound, and I kind of invited myself several months ago to screen fun movies with him. We alternate choosing the movie; he leans towards British crime movies (he’s English by birth) while I lean towards quirky comedies (I screened “The Freshman,” for example - look it up!)

But tonight! Tonight was the Top Gun sequel Maverick. Paul kept saying, “Pure cheese!” and I could not disagree. It was so much fun.

After the movie, I walked home at about 10:15, and debated taking a late night walk. When I was training in 1994, I often ran late at night, especially during the hot months, and I was oblivious to the risks.

Until…one day when I was running along the Brays Bayou, a car slowed down and started stalking me. It hit me all at once how vulnerable I was, wearing shoes, socks and shorts - no phone, no chemical spray, no nothing. I reversed course and ran past the car the opposite direction fast. It braked and sat there as I ran hard away from it, and my plan was to run into the bayou if it started backing up in my direction. Fortunately, it drove off and did not return.

I can’t help but think about that incident nearly thirty years later when contemplating a late walk. I guess I need to get more committed to finding the time during the day if I’m too spooked to run at night. I am getting there, but not yet.

So today ended up being a rest day. I did walk to and from Paul’s house, so that’s something, but I will try to do better tomorrow.

Day 10

The rain clouds passed through yesterday, leaving behind true fall weather, crisp and tart.

Last night, Josh asked me to get my pitching wedge to practice short chips with me on the carpet upstairs. Actual quote: “Are you just going to sit there on the couch when you can do something with your son?” 

This was hilarious to me - every time I’d said the same thing to him over the last 23 years, he would give me a thousand-yard stare, as if he was a state trooper I was asking to let me off of a speeding ticket this one time please.

Despite this, I wasn’t going to be petty when my son actually wanted me to do something with him, except that my wedge was in my golf bag in my car outside and I really didn’t want to go outside in the cold.

But I love my son and so I went out there and discovered that while it was cold, it wasn’t cold. I kept waiting for the bone chill to hit me, but it was just an illusion, more anticipation then reality.

That was the same for today’s run. 51 degrees and windy, out with Art and his two daughters. Art had texted me this afternoon to let me know his wife was enjoying the blog and offered to walk with me. 

So we got together at about 4:30 at his house. After saying hi to Nicole and the lovely Baby Maizie, and playing hide and seek for a little bit, we bundled Everly and Isla up and shot off. 

And I mean shot! Art was intent on breaking my current record, and pushing his kids in a stroller, he was on an 11:00 pace without lifting his feet from the ground. I felt like a toddler trying to keep up with a grown-up in full stride.

He eased up after a while, and we had a nice walk as it got darker. Art is always good company, and his kids are just excellent. According to my Apple watch, we made the first mile under 14 minutes, and kept a 14 minute-ish pace for the next 3.5 miles, faster than my loop last week with Avina.

(Of course, Art claims that his watch had us going substantially slower, but everything is relative - if my watch is miscalibrated, it was similarly miscalibrated on all of my other walks, which means I was still faster on this walk than any of my other walks to date. So there, Art.)

Fun day!

 

Day 9

Cold and rainy pretty much all day. After running for the first time in a long while yesterday, I took the day off today. I don’t want to catch something that would set me back.

I’ll do better tomorrow.

Day 8

We celebrated my daughter’s birthday today! Lovely Sarah, starting her new job tomorrow, came over with her boyfriend, Devon, who pulled all if the stops, posting signs in the front yard, helping decorate the house, and coordinating the celebration with us. She’s lucky to have him in her life.

And we’re lucky to have her in our life.

I contributed the chocolate tres leches cake (recipe here). Not necessarily health food, but gooooood!

They left at six, early enough for me to get my walk in, but instead I sat on my couch and started playing in an online poker tournament. If you don’t know, poker is kind of my thing in retirement. The problem is that sometimes I do everything right and the cards don’t reward my superior play. That is what happened tonight.

So after I was felted (a great poker term that I hate because it means I lost), I told Lisa that I was going walking. She looked outside (dark) and looked at me (dressed in black) and the clock (late) and said, “You don’t have to do a long walk tonight, you know.” Acknowledging her concerns, I agreed that I would just go a couple of miles.

It was 53 degrees, so I wore sweatpants and a windbreaker. I decided to wear my old Brooks Trance 11s, which was a mistake - they were petrified running shoes, stiff and unforgiving. I also forgot to apply my anti-chafe stick, which left me rubbing in all the wrong places (more on that another day). My earbuds were bugging me too, probably because I’d accidentally washed them when I threw my workout duds in the washer without checking my pockets (arggh).

Because, for all these reasons, I wanted to get home sooner, I decided it was time for me to start running. 

At a little after the one mile mark in my route, I turned around and launched a tentative shuffle. I had no idea how long I would go, but it wasn’t bad. A little stiffness I my right ankle, but not much breathlessness and I had a nice rhythm going. If you were watching me, you might question whether it was technically “running,” but I enjoyed it and made a full mile before stopping to warm down for the last 150 yards. The split for that second mile was 12:03, which would have been under 12 minutes if I’d started running immediately at the one mile mark. And if I’d used the anti-chafe, I think I could have opened up my stride a little more - maybe not a 11 minute pace, but close.

So yeah, that was the first run of the journey. 51 weeks to the marathon, and I’m 1/26th of the way there.  Woo hoo!

P.S.  Art and Nicole welcomed their daughter home - sweet Maizie. Babies are love magnets, so I am happy for their family! 

And if you want to see the Sherry sisters in about 15 years?  Link here and imagine Maizie on lead vocals, Everly on rhythm guitar, and Isla on lead guitar (and Art telling them to turn it down). It could happen!

Day 7

Ahhh…the first real day of South Texas fall! Last night, rain storms blew in and brought with them a cold front that dropped the temperature this morning briefly into the forties.

After a breakfast of warmed-up steel cut oatmeal with fresh blueberries, I went to play basketball at my friend Randy’s house. (More about that game another day.)

I had my legs under me in the game after a week of walking and strength training, and I had a good time. One of the guys said I was “gliding” on the floor.  I’m not sure about that, but I drove to the basket a couple of times in a way that would have made my dad proud.

After the game, I came home and finished the salmon from the other day, then relaxed while my Apple watch recharged. I’ve been watching the CNN coverage of “election night,” now going on five days. It’s amazing how much content they can generate with so little new substance, especially since all of the speculation is kind of pointless. The results are what they are and we’ll know soon enough. This is like watching someone spend five days scratching off a lottery ticket:

“Wolf, new reports indicate that the ticket now has a cowboy hat on it.”

“Well, what does that mean?”

“If another cowboy hat is exposed, we could win two dollars.”

“Do we know when the next symbol is going to be scratched off?”

“Wolf, I am told it will happen any moment now.”

This is silly. You win or lose the scratch-off when you buy it. And the winner of the election has already won, based on the votes that were cast five days ago - we just haven’t scratched off the ticket yet to know one way or the other.

Call me when you’ve finished counting.

So after getting bored with TV, I got up and walked. It was perfect weather, 60 degrees and clear. In fact, it was so perfect, I cracked five miles and got home after dark. As I approached my home, the message Sarah’s boyfriend Devon had commissioned for her birthday on Sunday came into view. It was quite sweet! (Picture tomorrow.)

Adios for today!

Day 6

Short entry today.

Art is out today, attending the birth of his third child. We’ve been suggesting names, but he’s kind of particular. I’m looking forward to hearing the final decision - if he’s reading this, how about Esme? (It’s a J.D. Salinger character’s name, which is always in good taste.)

In his absence, Sam, Avina and I were left to our own devices for today’s workout. Art had given us a workout to do, but after a series of sit-ups, ball slams, and burpees, we decided to work on our back muscles instead. It was a good workout, but when it was done, we were happy to call it a day. It’s just not the same without Art.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up provisions for my daughter’s birthday cake (chocolate tres leches cake!) and a piece of salmon for lunch. After a grilled salmon sandwich, I was ready for a nap.

And when I woke up, the temperature was dropping and the rain had moved in. Because I’m not ready yet to do my walks in the rain and because I’ll be playing basketball in the morning, I decided to make this a rest day.

And that’s that. The Crown awaits as soon as my wife gets home.

Day 5

This was a tricky day.

Thursdays are a day off from the workouts with Art and the team, so it can be a slow day for me, a day puttering around the house.

Today, I sorted the recycling, did two loads of laundry, and cleaned the kitchen. I read the paper, worked the New York Times crossword, and played with the dogs. I did a little legal work and posted a couple of items from the garage on EBay.

This was all procrastinating because I had planned to do my walk in the morning.

And I didn’t want to.

So I kept doing stuff around the house and the day might have gone by without any exercise at all, except that I told myself that I would not eat lunch until I’d made the walk. Probably not the healthiest motivator, but it worked - I became so hungry (and the house was so clean), that I had to get out and get it done.

So I did, a little later than I’d have preferred. The day was beautiful, and although my left quad kept threatening to throb, it never got too bad. I extended the walk a little further and tried hard to just relax and enjoy it.

I’m glad I got out of the house.

Day 4

Art may disagree with me about what I’m about to say, but it has been my experience that running or walking with a buddy is always better than training alone.

I first started running when my father insisted on me (and later my siblings) joining him at about age 11, after we had moved from upstate New York to north Texas. At the time, I believed that he was doing this to build up my character and get his stick-figure intellectual son into some kind of shape, but I later came to understand that he enjoyed running with people, and this was a way to have quality time with his children.

I never really got into running for fun during those years because it just seemed mostly painful and exhausting. And now that I reflect on it, my shoes probably didn’t help. As I remember it, running shoe technology was very basic back then. According to Wikipedia, specialty athletic shoes were very limited in the Seventies:

From 1970 (five models), to 1998 (285 models), to 2912 (3,371), the number of sport shoe models in the U.S. has grown exponentially. 

Imagine what my shoes were like in those years! If I wasn’t running in white Keds (my favored shoe), I was probably running in the equivalent of Converse Chuck Taylors with modified soles fresh out of a waffle iron.

It wasn’t until college in the Eighties that I rediscovered running. The campus and Capitol area were runner-friendly, with long stretches of automobile-free paths through beautiful surroundings, as well as air conditioned buildings with cold water fountains, a necessity in central Texas. I loved walking into the Capitol building at night and catching my breath amidst all of the Texas history. I’m not sure if they let you do that anymore - another casualty of our world of metal detectors and high security, I suppose.

Anyway, when I left Austin and moved to Houston in 1989, I started running regularly in Memorial Park. My first running buddy was a Houston Chronicle reporter that I knew from my days working at the student newspaper at UT, Tara Parker-Pope. She and I made the loop and talked about politics and relationships and the world, and I found that I could literally have a conversation for the entirety of the run. It was like my brain could only manage one thing at a time - either hating the run and focusing on the pain in my feet, my lungs and my legs, OR focusing on being charming and witty in my repartee with my friend. As long as I was talking, everything else I could have been thinking or feeling was shoved aside, tamped down into a corner of my brain.

Tara and her husband Kyle later left for New York City, and I needed a new running buddy, so an intern at the DA’s Office and I started running together. Chad Bridges was an Aggie and had been a walk-on for the football team. He was smart, friendly, athletic and most importantly, great company. Over the years, we talked about everything with the proviso that our conversations were under the umbrella of what we called “runners privilege.” I’d love to tell you what we discussed, but…runners privilege. Suffice to say, he and I became close friends and eventually ran the 1994 Houston Marathon, both finishing that year.

When Chad eventually left Harris County in the mid-Nineties to start his legal career (and he was a great success, culminating with his  re-election yesterday to a district court bench in Fort Bend County), I tried to find other running buddies with minimal success.  Then I was hit by a bus, and running was no longer an option for a long while.

After I recovered, I tentatively started running again with my neighbor Danica Marrelli, and then we were joined by John Floyd, another resident of the neighborhood and a first-rate defense attorney. We trained together for two or three years and ultimately ran a half-marathon in 2012, all finishing. I owe them a lot because I don’t think I would have gotten back into some semblance of shape without them.

John later moved away from Pearland into Houston proper and Danica joined a local running club, and I was again looking for a running pal, but mostly just not running at all.

That’s why when Avina texted me today and invited me to walk with her at Rice, I was thrilled. We met at the corner of Greenbriar and University, and walked the Rice campus loop, and it was like old times again. We have talked about Thanksgiving plans, struggles with eating too much of the foods I love, and the expenses of boarding dogs for family vacations. She was cheerful and positive and my brain shut down the complaint desk for a happy fifty minutes while we flew through an average of 15:09 per mile, a full minute faster than yesterday’s walk.

Then we grabbed an iced tea to go and raced to the gym to make our 12:15 workout with Art.  Deadlift day, as you can see in this video recording (reminder to self: no future videos in profile):

I am looking forward to more buddy walks/runs with Avina, as well as with Art, who lives nearby and who was my walking buddy this summer while he was recovering from a hernia surgery. “Call me,” he said. “I need the miles.”

Will do, sir.

Day 3

I finally got the night’s sleep I was craving. After exiting the poker tournament early (16th place out of 30, don’t ask why), I went to bed at 11:00 and slept nearly 8 hours.

Before I went to bed, I stirred up some steel-cut oats with water, skim milk, vanilla, nutmeg, cinnamon, dried fruit, and mashed banana and set the mixture on low in my slow cooker. When I woke up, there it was:

Oat cuisine 

After that, I read the paper, worked the puzzles, and then geared up for a morning walk.

It’s Election Day, so I passed our voting precinct as I left the neighborhood.  I’ll be back with Sarah this afternoon to cast my ballot.

It was a lovely day, 80 degrees and slightly breezy.  I did the first two miles in less than 16 minutes a mile, and extended the walk a little further to 4.5 miles.  I shaved my average time to 16:16!  

The left quad felt okay today, and my feet were only a little tingly. I am a little worried about the extended sun exposure - I may need to buy a gallon of sunscreen at Sam’s Club and start using it.

I will soon see how the morning walk affects my personal training workout in about an hour, but so far I’m pleased with how I feel today.

Day 2

Hmmm.

So last night, I went to bed late because my wife was working at the kitchen table, and I have a hard time going to sleep knowing she’s still up. She finished what she was doing at about 12:15, and when she climbed into bed, I was out in seconds.

Our dogs, Penny and Sam, got into bed with us at some point.

Penny the long dog

I know this because, at around 3:30, I woke up with a dry mouth and found myself on the far edge of my mattress with Penny laying parallel to me. I drank a glass of water and gently pushed her closer to the center of the bed. With her enviable canine ability to sleep soundly anywhere at any time, she barely noticed.

I slept fitfully, which was strange, since Sunday was my third day in a row of strong exercise. I had worked out with Art and my buddies on Friday for an hour, played two-plus hours of basketball on Saturday, and I had my long walk on Sunday. I should have been comatose.

But that would come later.

This morning, I got up at 7:15, did some housework, read a little bit, then got ready for my Monday workout at the gym.

When I got there, I did a tasty ten minute warmup on the treadmill, and then we worked on our quads.  Here’s the team:

Look at these people - so much positivity! 

I was energized and committed, and I tried harder than usual through my one-leg presses, sled pushes, weighted stair climbs, and one-leg extensions, attacking the exercises and even doing some extra reps.

“The feng shui of this gym is all wrong - I’m moving this sled to the other side of the room.”

After the workout, I announced that I was going to walk another four miles at home. Avina was interested in joining the walk, but she had to pick up her kids.

So I drove home, planning to stop at Tom Bass Park to walk the pond loop. Two things then happened: I noticed how warm it was for November (87 degrees!) and I really wanted to eat some lunch.

Instead of getting my walk in, I went home and heated up last night’s spaghetti and scarfed it down. I then found myself walking into the bedroom, laying down, and completely zonking out for about two hours.

By the time I woke up, it was too late for my walk. A poker tournament on the other side of town was on my schedule, and frankly, I was still punch-drunk from the nap. I think my new commitment to exercise had caught up with me for one day.

I asked Art during the workout whether I could/should walk every day. He said, “I don’t see anything wrong with that, but keep a comfortable pace. If it becomes a run, you’ll need a rest day.”

I guess today became a rest day. But I learned something new: go ahead and get that walk in when you can, because life is short and full of unexpected naps.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

First day of training

 

Here it is - the NYC Marathon map.  If you have a subscription to the New York Times, here’s a great article about what to expect on the course.

The article emphasizes the neighborhoods you pass through, and weirdly, the changes in elevation.  Representative quote from the story:

Look, this is New York.  If it were an easy place to exist, everyone would live here and run uphill on Mile 26 across Central Park South.  That’s not how we roll.  If you don’t like it, there’s a quiet, flat marathon somewhere else that will have you. Have fun running in silence for four hours (or more).  

He’s right - there are some long stretches where you just seem to be on an unrelenting five degree slope for miles, not to mention the bridges you have to cross.  But it’s not a California or Hawaii marathon with mountainous terrain - the elevation changes are just a little spice to make the distance slightly more interesting.

This can be somewhat difficult to replicate here in Houston.  Memorial Park, the ground zero for building your mileage, is flat and the granite paths are easy on your joints.  As far as I know, if you want long stretches of incline, you have to leave Houston for the bay bridges.

Art may know better - he’s run everywhere here and probably knows a hilly park somewhere in town.  But that’s for another day.  My training starts slow and level.  

Today.

______________________

The first step

This is me at 4:13 p.m. about to head out for my first official training walk.  When I asked my wife to take the picture to commemorate the initiation of my NYC Marathon training, she did a double take.

“You’re doing a half-marathon?”

“Full.”

“Hmmmm.”  I sensed some skepticism.  “When is the race?”

“Didn’t you read my blog?”

“No, did you send me a link?”

“Yes!”  I said, a little perturbed.  

I went on. “The race is in November of next year.”

“Oh!  Next year!”  She had apparently been under the impression that I was planning to run in a couple of months, so she cheered up. “Good!”

We went outside and took the picture.  I then turned on my earbuds, started my audiobook, and strode off.  

I had originally intended to mix some short sprints amid the long walk, but when Art called me this afternoon to check on me, he steered me away from any running today.  “Get used to the distance first,” he said.

So it was just a pleasant walk through my neighborhood in an unseasonably warm (82 degrees) November afternoon. My shoes (Hokas) were mostly comfortable, but about three miles in, I started feeling a muscle pull in my left quadriceps. Nothing really bad, but just kind of uncomfortable. I need to find out why is this happening.

When I got home, I was feeling parched and more tired than I thought I’d be.  But after some cold water, a spaghetti dinner, and family time, I felt fine.

See you tomorrow!

A Journey of One Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step

On January 16, 1994, I ran and finished the Houston Marathon in 4 hours, 31 minutes, and 27 seconds, which averages out to about 10:37 a mile.  Finishing the marathon was the product of six months of training that included the Houston Marathon Warm-Up Series (a half-marathon, a 25K, and a 30K) as well as the Ten for Texas.

Nearly ten months later, I ran and finished the New York City Marathon in 4 hours, 50 minutes, and 27 seconds, an average of 11:04 a mile.  

While the time was slower, I think it was because I ran with my 54-year-old father, a veteran of many marathons who was running his last race that year.  We crossed the finish line together, and running those nearly five hours from the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge to Central Park is one of my fondest memories of him.  My brother Craig, who had also run the race, was waiting for us, having finished about seven minutes earlier in 4:43:17.

The picture of the three of us together at the end is one of my favorite pictures, my father beaming with pride, my brother in a state of pure exhaustion, and me with a smirk, as if to say, "Yeah, I did this. What else do you got?"

I was 30 years old.  

Since then, my father passed from colon cancer in 2003, too soon, deeply unfair.  My brother went to live in Japan for several years and came back.  I got hit by a bus in 2000, underwent back surgery (L4-5 laminectomy), recovered, and ran a half-marathon in 2012, running a respectable 2:28:07.

I am now 58 years old.  I work out with my personal trainer Art and my workout buddies Sam and Avina four days a week, and I play basketball on Saturdays.  I eat too much and recently had hernia surgery to correct a bulging belly button.  I take medications for high blood pressure and high cholesterol, but on the plus side, I retired from a high-stress job in 2021 and happily putter around the house and play lots of poker.

So, when Art told me he had qualified for the New York City Marathon and would run it on November 5, 2023, what else could I say?

"Me too.  I'm in."

"You're in for what?"

"I'll run the race with you.  You've never run it before.  I can give you some guidance."

Art smirked, but not in an unkindly way.  He and I had been walking in the evenings in his neighborhood on the other side of 288, and he was familiar with my gait.  Also, he had frequently expressed his professional opinion that I was carrying too much weight to do any running, much less training for a long race.

But for some reason, the idea of running New York again one more time resonated.  If there was ever a time for me to try, it was now. In retirement, I have time to train. My recent commitment to personal training with Art has me feeling strong and confident. There was a nice parallel to my father's life - he had run this race in his fifties, and I would be 59 for next year's race.  And I really liked that particular marathon, which crosses through all five boroughs and has unbeatable crowds and sights.

So, I doubled down.  I checked out the lottery (odds not good, but I had beat the odds in 1994 to get in) and the charitable entry bypass (raise $3000 and you're in the race).  I checked out training programs and found some one-year plans.

And I started this blog.

Here's the plan:  I keep track of my training here and I share the link to this blog to Art, Avina, and Sam.  They hold me accountable, encourage me when I need it, kick my butt when I need that, and I tell some fun running stories and other stuff.  

If I get hurt (stress fracture in my feet is currently the most likely injury, followed by knee pain, lower back pain, and every runner's secret anxiety, unexpectedly dropping dead on the track like Jim Fixx), then so be it - and my tombstone will read, "Art Was Right."

I will also share this with my sister Eileen and her son Andrew, who both just finished a goal-oriented health challenge and changed their lifestyle in a positive way - they will understand and motivate me. And I'll share with my brother Craig, who will likely also start training for the race solely to beat me again by seven minutes.

I'll also open up the blog to people who might be willing to sponsor my charitable efforts.  I know a few people who like that kind of thing.

Today is November 5.  The one-year program starts tomorrow.  See you then!