Tales From The Pool, Part 1

Last Friday was Good Friday, and I made my way to the pool for the fifth day in a row. Since it was a holiday for many local schools, the pool facility did not have its usual gaggle of screaming, larval New Yorkers in the shallow, blocked off, end. However, the AARP members who hit around mid-morning were in full force, with no Lisa Lisa in sight (an obscure and poor ‘80s cultural reference, I know). So I found myself in the shorter lanes, just doing the time to fit the crime. And I picked a lane right next to a sweet-looking 10-year-old little lady who had the day off from school while daddy (who worked at the pool) kept an eye on her.

Like me, she was doing 1-2 laps and stopping at the pool ends each time to assess her progress. More accurately, I was stopping to get some air, she was stopping to sigh heavily about the burdensome weight of life in the fourth grade and a ‘this-is-so-ten-minutes-ago’ completion of another lap. Then her sighs started getting more anxious, more like ‘I’m bored out of my mind, and I’d kill anybody here for a Hannah Montana download’. But soon I realized her boredom was getting converted into a desire to beat me, Grandpa Simpson, to the end of the pool.

I picked up on this as soon as I arrived at the end and looked over to see her looking benignly in my direction. ‘Oh, is that what’s going on here?’, I thought. And I looked back. She turned and dived. Then I knew it was ON.

So I made my way back, and Little Miss Sunshine decides to stop mid-pool to, well, just stop to check her goggles, and screw with my head. Hmmmm. I thought to myself: ‘that little swimming cap is hiding three 6’s, or maybe just a ‘665’, cause you ain’t all THAT, half a Miss Thang’. Underwater, a ‘snap’ could be heard.

I stopped the Tyler Perry show then and there and decided to get a little more focused. We took off down the pool. I’m counting my strokes, I can hear ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ on an 8-track in my head, with program clicks, and I make it. And Abigail Breslin, or that bee girl in the Blind Melon video, or whatever the hell she is, is already taking off. Dive! Dive!

We make it back about the same time, and I act like I have NO IDEA she is there. And she acts like she can barely float her ass in the pool, she’s so bored. But she sees me, and I see her, and our sweet looks at each other say it all: next time, you are toast.

I exit the pool (I don’t need a ladder, missy). I shoot her another look that says: ‘I’ll see you later in these pool lanes, little girl. And that’s when you’re going down.’

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, this is how a grown man trains for a triathlon. I swear it’s from the lack of oxygen in the pool.

Yeah, right.

Mugging in the Park

Sorry to be a posting fool these days, but this is kind of newsworthy…

Last night a jogger was mugged and stabbed in Central Park about 8:45, two robbers made off with his iPod; the jogger went to the hospital, but I believe he’s OK. This is kind of rare, but it’s the type of thing the news media jump on.

I don’t like running at night anyway, and I just happened to run this afternoon. And got pulled over by a reporter from WCBS mid-run. After an hour in the pool this morning, I was happy for the break.

Here’s WCBS’ website, and the story.

And here’s the brief audio. As you can tell, I was out of breath and full of brilliant observations.

And Runners, Too.

March 20th

Back in January, I wrote: “Training better start coming together before spring, because I’m not going to want to be throwing money at the three-sport lifestyle for months if I don’t enjoy it on some level, be it through better health or through satisfying some personal masochistic tendencies.”

Now it’s spring, at least on the calendar, and it’s time to assess. I have indeed thrown money at triathlon training, and continue to. But as Bob-O suggested, and several others as well, just work on the swimming and get ready for Boston. Well. I’ve been doing just that.

As for running, I PR’d in a 15K a couple of weeks ago, I’ve kept a reasonably OK weekly mileage of 40 miles or more, and finished a 3:15/22-mile run last Sunday that actually left me feeling good enough that I could’ve done a few extra miles. I have found that in light of all the biking (spinning) and swimming I’ve been doing I enjoy running more than ever, and in winter weather, at that. I wish my mileage was higher, but I just don’t have it in me to do more after swimming and weight-training and biking most days.

Biking is the remaining wild card, only because I’m not looking forward to the expense. I attended a workshop on how to change a tire on Tuesday night, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been sponsored by MasterCard. Of course, it wasn’t, my tri-team set it up, and it was certainly educational, but I could just see my compulsiveness to be overly prepared with high-tech gear winning out over fiscal responsibility. I can’t say much more than that, though I think once warmer weather arrives and I can enjoy the outdoors I’ll get into it and the bike money pit as well and feel better about it. Another thing, spinning makes my quads burn every time, but ‘whatever doesn’t kill you…’

As for swimming, tomorrow will be my tenth trip to the pool in the last twelve days. And I have indeed gotten better in two months of training. My breathing is rather improved. My swimming instructor agreed with my recent poolside statement that I am my own worst critic, so as much as I want to I will not make negative comments on what I can’t do. For weeks I was waiting for the breakthrough day when I would complete 50-100 yards without stopping, but I’ve decided that’s not the right approach. I’m just going to plug away at it, and if ‘it’ (whatever that is, perhaps a PR distance, perhaps a high level of confidence) happens in April or May or whenever, then so be it. Unlike running, when it comes to swimming I can’t be moderately competitive with my past race times or set up goals, I just have to get in the pool and keep at it and get better. And that I have.

Overall I’m not as far along in tri-training as I wish I were, but I’m not going to worry about it. Frankly, I’m a little bored thinking about it all, and if it happens that I later decide I’m not ready to finish the triathlon I signed up for in July, I won’t do it. Right now, I can’t say I won’t be ready, because I’m keeping with the training. And getting ready for Boston, I’ll assess where I’m at after that, too. But that’s where I’m at, and every time I have a bad training day or I’m unhappy with a workout, I’ll think about all the people half my age (warning: he’s using the age card!) who could not physically do what I’m doing and then I’ll S-T-F-U.

And you thought I’d just written a rational assessment without getting a little snarky. That, my friends, will probably never change… Then again, the cloying image of the kitten at the ‘peep buffet’ was probably a tip-off…

A Time For Healing

I come to you today to discuss something that has recently come to light. I do this because I feel the people need to know that I am honest with them. I speak to you today with the conviction that we must all work together, and to clear the air, so that we may move forward with the necessary determination to get the job done.

Running has always been important to me; what you don’t know is that at one time I was not faithful to running. During the late nineties, I strayed, and at one point I almost gave up entirely. But for the sake of my race times, I went for coaching, and decided to work through my problems; in hindsight, I had no one but myself to blame. And now I am faced with even bigger challenges. For now, two other sporting endeavors have threatened the peacefulness I've derived from running for so long. Rest assured, I will never turn away from my running career, and never turn away from those who made it possible. I now leave you to begin anew the monumental task of balancing the budget in the face of tri-ing expenditures. Thank you for your support and best wishes, and thank you to the state of New York.




(Ed. note: OK, there was only one bad pun in there, get over it. And if I have to hear about one more politician’s sex life (like our new governor’s) I’m going to lose my mind. Or go running instead.)

Ready for Spring

It’s been a nice, sunny day in New York City. Too bad it was freezing, especially this morning when I headed out at about 6:30. I know, I’ll miss this weather in July.

Here’s Lewis Black from a few years ago, It pretty much sums up how I feel.

Race Report: USA 8K Championships

Here’s something rare, a race report about some event I didn’t even run in. I could’ve signed up for the ‘normal person’ 8K held before the championships, but since I had a long run on the schedule for today, I decided racing the day before was not a great idea. Plus sometimes it’s better to just sit one out and watch other people run hard enough to vomit all over themselves. Good times!

I had no excuse to not lug around the camera, so I showed up at sunup on a chilly, misty Saturday morning to take some pictures. The race for everyday folks started at 7:30, so right as it started I managed to dash off to the west side of Central Park to cheer on the folks at the 1-mile mark. I was the only one there, and since it was at the top of a hill, the runners were generally happy to see anybody with a pulse telling them they’re doing well and everything will be OK, because ‘at least it’s not a marathon’. I made it back to the east side in time to see all the runners, again, rounding back up near the 4-mile mark. A participant asked me if he was ‘almost there’ and I told him in the nicest way possible that I don’t announce that information unless I’m staring at the finish line. Another runner laughed, they knew what I meant.

After the 1,780 ‘normal’ runners finished, the super-fast men’s invitational was held at 9AM. These guys are faster than I’ll ever be, but I was also reminded that most of them look like they stopped growing at 16 (even though some of them are well into their 20s and even 30s), and have that short, lean, bony, sinewy body type. Which sometimes makes their heads look huge. Oh, I ain’t hatin’ on the playas, it’s just there’s a body type going on, and we all know it. They could kick my ass in any race, and that’s all there is to that, and if 6% bodyfat is what it takes, so be it. Same goes for the women, although there’s even less bodyfat going on there, those ladies have upper arms that look like sticks.

And after Jorge Torres won the 8K in 22:41, the ladies turned out for their race, and Shalane Flanigan won that in a time of 25:40. With both events taking about a half hour for everyone to finish, there wasn’t a lot of standing around and waiting for it to be over, that was a nice change for the average spectator standing out in the cold.

As for me, my running mileage for the day was a lowly 3-4 miles accumulated as I shuttled around the park to snap pictures. Like I said, I saved most of my energy for today’s long run, which turned into a trip through four boroughs (with running pals Susie and Denise in the first half, and later a trip past the site of yesterday’s crane accident in midtown) and two times across the Queensborough Bridge. Amazingly, I had 22-23 miles in me, or 3 hours plus. I’ll take it, my long runs haven’t been so long lately, I think I broke out of that today. Hopefully, I’ll have enough leg strength for tomorrow morning’s swim training session and won’t look like I’ve forgotten everything.

So below are some chronological images of the three 8Ks I watched, and award pictures of the top ten runners in the men’s and women’s races. At least you get the idea of what it looks like to run in Central Park in the winter.