Enough About You

Well, we read a lot of running blogs, and they’re pretty much diaries about training, with a little bit of life lessons and humor thrown in. Sort of like running with a friend and catching up, except it’s typed out nicely for all to see. That’s cool, but we never really set out to discuss the heartwarming personal running diary of ‘Satan’ dba Cranky Runner, we were more interested in anonymously identifying the shared difficulty of our chosen sport(s), in a snarky way. We thought: discussing, and reading about 'how what we had for lunch two days before a race affected our finish time’ couldn’t possibly appeal to anyone else. While that may still be true, we also thought (just now) it only fair that with everybody offering up more personal experiences, and real information a fiction writer couldn't make up, we’d do the same. So here goes.

First off, we will, for the moment, drop the ‘Royal We’ (ouch) before getting down to business, pun intentional.

‘Satan’ is a nickname given to me by a longtime running friend from PA. I have a habit of pushing myself on runs and races, and on one particular run she’d had enough. (We later dubbed her ‘R.B.’ for ‘Running Bitch’, so ladies, that one’s already taken.) I’ve also been called ‘The Machine’ since I’ve been known to happily run a day or two after finishing a marathon. Anyway, these are names I’m somewhat proud of, and when it came time for a blogger profile, at least one was already there. Someday I will get a t-shirt that has on it printed ‘Satan’ with running number ‘666’ and wear it in a race and see how many people dare to cheer on The Great Deceiver.

I run because I can, and let’s face it, as a sport it’s relatively inexpensive and easy to do. I am also the first person in my family to actually exercise (however, my sister does try from time to time, though she still thinks I’m from outer space), so I do not easily submit to genetic fate. Twelve years ago, not long after I started running a bit more seriously, I suffered chest pains after a run and grudgingly (I’m an American male, I don’t stop for directions, either) took myself to the doctor who soon discovered that my left lung had collapsed. Running didn’t cause it, it was genetic; but after ten days in the hospital, serious thoracic surgery and a borderline psychotic ‘get me out of here-itis' they didn’t have enough drugs for, I was ready to hit the road again.

So another ten days later I ran my next 5-miler, easy and slow I might add, and I haven’t looked back since. I now run about twelve races a year, some seriously, some not. That includes a couple of marathons a year, too; I’m always, always training for some long distance. I had a physical last week, and the doctor tells me I have ‘the heart of a runner’, so no frontin’ on the track with me.

I have two races scheduled in the next couple of weeks, two marathons (Chicago and NYC) set for the fall, along with anything else I’m crazy enough to do. I can be somewhat fast (a sub-20-minute 5K) or slow (a 6-hour 60K), but I usually place in the top tenth or fifteenth percentile even though I’m in the AARP-ready ‘masters’ division. I’m currently running about 50-60 miles a week along with gym workouts that kick my ass. So if you want to know if anybody else is as crazy as you, and you haven’t figured it out yet, the answer is yes.

And finally, this whole blog silliness started on one of the million Central Park runs last year with my fine fellow cranky runner/enabler Susie. She half-jokingly suggested after I griped about runners and threatened to start an imaginary website called ‘crankyrunner.com’ that I should go ahead and do it, and so here we are. Or here I am.

Anyway, thanks to all for reading, commenting and most of all, confirming my twisted worldview on running. Kind of like life, huh? Whoops, can’t get too sentimental or serious here, or else I’d have to mock it.

Oh well, thanks for indulging me on a little self-reflection and personal trivia. Back to our previously-scheduled program.


P.S. Oh yeah, it’s Richard. Nice to meet you.