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.

An Open Letter to The All-Seeing

Dear God/Allah/Yahweh/Whatever They’re Calling You This Millennium,

Hey, thanks for the recreation of Noah’s deluge in Central Park this afternoon! It was swell. I’d just gone out to do a little training run, the skies were blue, more tourists had just arrived from eastern Europe, and it was hotter than a junebug on summer asphalt when the skies opened up and poured sheets of tri-state water on our aging Mizunos. Gee, it was fun.

We’re sure you were chuckling when the hapless tourists hiding under trees scattered after the thunderclaps started, and when the heavy rain created rushing torrents on the downhills. Just like being cast out of heaven again! Ah, the memories. Funny enough, the iPod was still ticking away as I found myself alone on the drive, picking up the pace, even though everything, and I mean everything, was soaked.

So I thought, ‘bring it on’, and you didn’t disappoint. After twenty minutes of unbelievable external hydration, you abruptly stopped the flood three minutes before the end of my run. Nice touch! You always had good timing, Ramses’ army found that out, didn’t they?

Well, I hope that the old shoes dry out before tomorrow, DST, and that you move onto other hi-larious pranks. If you’re just practicing biblical weather as a Revelations training workout, I don’t want to know.

Your pal,

Satan

Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It…

Rather than get our running shorts in a twist about this issue, we’re going to cut to the chase and ask the question: How do you know when you need to replace your shoes?

The answer we’ve always heard is ‘a total 300 to 400 miles of running on them’. Last time we went to buy new shoes at the local running store, we mentioned this statistic to the fairly knowledgeable guy bringing them out, and we received a quick Look of Correction, or LoC (a lesser version of The Angry Runner’s Scowl of Dissaproval). ‘300’ he said, as if the Spartans would never have fought the Persians if they were stupid enough to be wearing Grid Hurricanes with 400 miles on them. We could’ve received an eyeroll, too, but we were too busy shoehorning Chinese rubber over our feet to notice.

So after a quick search for the answer at Runner’s World and Running Times, we pretty much found the same vague answer. So does anybody know of any sort of scientific evidence that would support 300 miles or 400 miles (or maybe 500 miles)? Is this just a shoe company marketing strategy to get us to buy shoes more often? After hearing Steve Jobs say once that he foresees consumers buying a new iPod ‘two or three times a year’, we wouldn’t put it past the shoe manufacturers to jump on that bandwagon, but we’d like to give the shoe guys the benefit of the doubt. Today’s heat and humidity must be mellowing us out.

We ask because we bought a pair of Mizunos in mid-May, and with the 300-mile rule, that means we’ve got two more weeks left before the damn things self-destruct, Mission Impossible-style. And it’s kind of tiring plunking down another $80 (and that’s cheap these days) for another pair so soon.

Well, if anybody knows of any evidence pro or con, leave a comment. And in a related question, if you happen to know if bike tires are also timed to self-destruct, head over to The Angry Runner and share the bad news with him, too.

Race Report: New York Mini 10K

Although a bit humid and warm for the runners, this morning the NY Mini was held in Central Park. Since we have the wrong XY chromosomal structure, we weren’t allowed to participate (it’s a women-only race), but we did get to watch and cheer on some kick-ass women. Got to see an empty CPW for a change (see above); for those of you have run the NYC Marathon, this is exactly where you meet up with your loved ones and have leg cramps and mood swings and think to yourself how the hell am I going to make it home without climbing a step.

The race starts on Central Park West, goes north a bit, cuts into the park, and then runs clockwise back down and up to finish up near Tavern On the Green. We saw the start, ran up to the 4-mile mark to watch everybody come through, and hit the finish line for another spirited bout of over-the-top without-embarrassing-our-gender cheerleading.

Lornah Kiplagat of the Netherlands won the race in 32:10, her third winning 10K Mini in a row, and fourth overall. We’re lucky if we can drive our car a 10K distance in Manhattan in 32:10, so that’s really moving.

But as far as we’re concerned, there are lots more winners later in the race, and we got to cheer them on as they slowly made their way, some jogging and some walking. Women-only races are great, it always seems that the less-competitive participants are a little more appreciative of spectator support than their male counterparts in other races. Maybe that’s a wrong generalization, but several women we don’t even know offered their heartfelt thanks after the race, and it makes us all feel good and extra glad to be there.

Being an encouraging spectator can be really important, even when it seems the racers don’t notice you. We saw one acquaintance at mile 4, yelled our her name, and she just looked straight ahead, not responding. That’s cool, but we ran into her again after the race, and found out she was suffering through an injury. Her race concentration and mental battle with that injury kept her from communicating, but she sure heard the encouragement. So just because someone doesn’t respond, it doesn’t mean they aren’t hearing and listening. The encouragement briefly helped her get through the pain, and we got a hug for our effort. Everybody wins.

So the next time you have a chance to just watch a race, especially a tougher one (marathon, triathlon, ultra, etc.), get yourself out there and tell those hard-working people what a great job they’re doing. Besides, who knows better than you about what they’re going through? And when the day comes when you’re out there struggling, or feeling great, or just so-so, return the love, and it’ll come right back to you.

iPod Friday 7

As you may have guessed by now, we get all into music. With hot, humid weather here and lots of fun music coming out all the time, it helps to have fresh tunes ready to go on the old iPod to keep us on track.

We thought about posting tunes by The Cure, and even by jailbird Paris Hilton now that CNN is broadcasting ridiculous reports every ten minutes. Guess there’s not much going on in the news today. Yeah, right.

Anyway, let’s just check out some road-tested mashups that we’ve run across over the last year. As something of a warning, we like our tunes to have a beat, nothing slow and lugubrious. Classical music is great to listen to while sitting in a comfy armchair with a glass of wine, but don’t ask us to listen to ‘Moonlight Sonata’ during a tempo run. If that gets you across a finish line, more power to ya, but we’ve got to have something that helps keep the pace. And if you’ve heard these already, you know what we mean.

First up is a fun little mash of the disco tune ‘Born To Be Alive’ by Patrick Hernandez (trivia: Madonna got her start touring in Europe as a backup singer for this guy) mixed with ‘Vertigo’ by ancient wave rockers U2. Created by mashmaster FuTuRo.
Born to Vertigo

Next up is a wonderful little gem from one of our favorites, Party Ben. It’s the ‘ChicFranzieBoys’, or in other words, Chic + Franz Ferdinand + The Beastie Boys. Somehow, it works, in an old school kinda way…
ChicFranzieBoys

Masher Audiodile made this wonderful slice of craziness last year, mixing Nine Inch Nails’ ‘Closer’ with The Art of Noise. Not for playing loudly at work (f-bomb alert), unless you’re planning on quitting today.
Closer (To The Editor)

Next is not technically a mash, but it’s in the mash family, a remix of sorts of Queen’s ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ by Rhythm Scholar. Happily, even Joan Jett chimes in at the end… Though it’s probably not too appropriate, we’d love to hear this one at a race!
Another One Bites The Dust (Rhythm Scholar Blasted Breaks Remix)

Finally, one more Party Ben opus, it’s a mash of Gnarls Barkley ‘Crazy’ with Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’. Perfectly done, it’s ‘I Feel Crazy’. Yeah!
I Feel Crazy


Hope you like these; once again, they were all road-tested by CR at various locations in Central Park, Randall’s Island, Battery Park, the Queensboro Bridge, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and wherever the hell we ended up dehydrated but happy. And if you want even more from these great mashup folks, head over to the following fine places:

FuTuRo
Party Ben
Audiodile
Rhythm Scholar


Happy listening, and happy weekend!

Filling Out Your Running Form

Yeah, that’s a lame title, ‘The Perfect Form’ was taken. So anyway, we’ve been meaning to discuss running form, because we see in all these races people who kick and flail and do goofy things with their arms and legs while they’re running. Shoe scuffing too, and of course, landing flat on the feet, sounding like cinderblocks being thrown off the roof.

Our favorite one was spotted again last week, a runner we affectionately call the ‘Fast Food Drive Through Jogger’. He takes one of his forearms, usually the left, and swings it way out at the elbow, making a circular motion while moving forward. It looks like he’s rolling down an imaginary car window, and one of these days we’re going to run up beside him and nasally announce ‘Welcome to Burger Dauphin, may I take your order?!’. Well, we’re not that mean, but allow us our evil thoughts. There are many more bad form types (The Modern Dancer, Limp Wristkit, The Washing Machine, et al), which we’ll save for a rainy day.

Anyway, what’s really at stake is running efficiency. The less energy spent on needless kicking, flailing and such, the more energy you have for finishing the run or race. The good news is, when it comes to running, most of us just go out and run without thinking about the process. It’s one of the things that makes running so democratic, just about anybody with the ability can do it. The bad news is that most of us don’t always have coaches, haven’t had someone watch our running form since kindergarten, or we just don’t pay attention to our form so much. Yes, getting from Point A to Point B is fine however you do it, but paying attention to how you get there might help you get to Point B a little sooner and better yet, a little happier. And perhaps… injury free?

Of course, Paula Radcliffe and her weird head roll running style could kick our ass in a race to the refrigerator, but you get the point. It never hurts to check your form.

And because Your Satanic Majesty is like, all up in dem bitches, here’s a link to a Runner’s World article that gets extra Heloise-like about running form.

Mirror in the Crankroom

Sometimes we can’t lay all the blame on, well, other people. Sometimes we just have to look in the mirror to find the enemy.

So listen to your cranky uncle here. When it’s hot and nasty outside, and you’re running and running and maybe biking or snarling at or eye-rolling at ding-dong runners with bad habits we don’t even want to talk about… remember to drink your water. Drinking water and hydrating is the ‘eat your vegetables’ of road racing. Now everybody can say ‘But Mr. Satan, of course I drink my water, duh’ and he’d know your telling the truth, but what about the afterparty ?

So we get home, shower up, scream for a while when the soap hits the chafes, dry off, dress, and move on with our life. Then later that day we start to get sleepy and churlish, and we wonder why, because the run wasn’t all that long. And then six hours later we realize we haven’t gone to the bathroom ALL DAY. Why? Because like the idiot behavior we mock, we stopped drinking water a little while after we stopped running.

Yes, we’ve sinned, we forgot to keep drinking water, even after that hellish long run. So take the advice we offer up to you now and keep drinking water after your run… or at least something that comes close to water that won’t dry you out. And if you want to take a nap, it’s because you want to, not because you have to.

The English Beat - Mirror in the Bathroom

(On a completely different subject, the 19th century mirror pictured above sold for $1700 this morning at the auction house down the street. An average selling price for a revival style/copy, too bad it wasn't an actual 18th century mirror, it would've fetched about $12,000, even more if there'd been a chateau stamp on it. See, you never know what arcane trivia will float to the top at CrankyRunner HQ)