Update/iPod Friday 27

Haven’t posted in a few days, too busy, but I just wanted to acknowledge some of the comments and encouragement I’ve received over the last week. Thank you. And for a bunch of people who type at each other more than anything else, we know what’s going on, even when it’s not being expressed.

So I won’t yet continue my account of the National Lampoon Brazilian Vacation, but instead mention a couple of things about training and races and all that stuff. I’ve got a 15K race on Sunday, and in a rare move, I’ll discuss it in advance (usually I just over-discuss marathons in advance). I’m actually looking to do a PR; if I can keep the pace I ran during the 10-miler three weeks ago, I’ll finish pretty well. I found out a few days after that last race that I finished third in my age group, and even though there were only 300 runners in that race, I’ll take it.

And I need the boost in confidence. As Bob-O commented, I need to cool it (my words, not his) and save the bricks for later. In January I trained like gangbusters, and discovered I had no swimming ability, and also discovered pedaling on a bike was dead-boring. So February rolled around and I was in burned out. I spent a week away; maintaining running mileage helped a little, though. For now, I’m in the middle of my second round of swimming lessons. I feel like I improve about 2% every time I hit the pool and it’s not fast enough for me. But I am still learning how to breathe in the pool, and learning I can’t swim as fast as I run (!)… even my swimming instructor has made that observation, and told me to calm down. For now, I’m doing headstands at the bottom of the pool with the kids, and getting blisters from blue rubber flippers.

Last night I went to an awards ‘gala’ that was put on by the Tri team at the swimming fitness center I use. I’ll write about that later, but in the meantime, I was looking to be inspired by a hundred triathletes together in one room. I heard a few comforting stories (‘it took me so long to learn how to swim’, ‘you’ll be fine’, etc.), but most of the night was spent hearing and watching people get awards for 9-hour Ironmans and the like. Awards are fine, and I’m sure people deserve them, but watching the same total strangers win award after award gets tiring in itself. Well, like I said more on that later.

And now for something unrelated… I have to answer a few comments about my trip. I didn’t exactly ask anyone on the street in Brazil, nor did I personally check this out, but… I did NOT get the impression that everyone is bisexual in Brazil. Outside of Rio, it’s a fairly Catholic country. Sorry, Claire. And AR, I did not notice that Brazilian women were the most beautiful in the world (paraphrasing, here). Not to say that beautiful Brazilians don’t exist, nor that Brazilians as a people are unattractive. I just didn’t notice drop-dead gorgeousness everywhere, female, male, or otherwise. I will say that I didn’t see the level of obesity we have here in the States. Brazilians appear to be a bit more up on exercise and physical health than we are, that’s for sure...

Oh, and Mindy, we’ll talk later about that future Ironman. I’d like to see the gear we'd invent for THAT.

More later, but for now I’ll lay on you the new Hot Chip video that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but makes me laugh, and we probably all need that anyway. Because after all the training I’ve been doing, I really do feel like I’m ‘Ready For The Floor’.



Hot Chip – Ready For The Floor

Running Vacation February ’08, Part 2

(São Paulo, from the 23rd floor of my hotel.)


I arrived in São Paulo after an eight hour plane ride, and airport customs was not so bad and actually easier to get through than it is back home. It shouldn’t have been bad anyway, because the damn visa to get in the country had already cost $130 along with two days spent at the Brazilian consulate in New York. The weather was warm (it’s still summer), but not horrible, and rain was imminent. Later I was told by a local that it rains all day, every day, in March. Nice.

Well, the next day included some business outside of town… though you wouldn’t know it was outside of town, because the city is gigantic and sprawling in a Southern California kind of way. Recently I heard São Paulo described as what you’d get ‘if New York threw up on L.A.’, and that’s not far from the truth. Twenty-story high rises are clumped by the dozen far off into the horizon, while every so often you see some random green space. And the traffic is, I am told, worse than in L.A.

Luckily, the fitness center in the hotel was one of the best I’ve ever seen, as in more than one machine left over from the 80’s… there were at least eight treadmills, ten bikes, every weight machine they could get in there, and most exciting of all, the room had huge windows. These people take fitness seriously. Now, I’m usually intrepid when it comes to running on city streets, but this time I had to reconsider. First off, there were NO pedestrian walk signs on 95% of the intersections. The guide book I brought explained that driving is a hazardous sport in Brazil, and quite often drivers feel that obeying red lights is, well… optional. Plus, scooters and motorcycles constantly cut in and out of sitting traffic, so they are the main cause of pedestrian death. Great. So after walking around the city, I observed all this mayhem on the streets, along with the gridlock, and decided the (I can’t believe I’m saying this) treadmill was the way to go. At least I got to watch American sitcoms with Portuguese subtitles.

A day and a half later, it was off to Rio, an hour away by plane. But before I forget, I’ll lay on you some facts and figures and odd info about Brazil; having never been there, I decided I’d at least learn something about the place:

Population of Brazil: 185 million. Judging by the bathing suits I saw in Rio, that’s about 30 meters of cloth divided amongst the entire population. But interestingly, women going topless at the beach is a real no-no. Apparently, going topless is only for heathen Europeans.

Geographically, Brazil is larger than the continental U.S. You find that out fast when you’re flying over the country for hours and hours and still haven’t gotten to where you want to go.

With 18 million people, São Paulo is the most populous city in South America. That’s bigger than my hometown. And that’s pretty big.

You knew this already, but they speak Portuguese. The recipe: two cups Spanish, a tablespoon of Italian, an teaspoon of Arabic, and a dash of Klingon. Hmmm… I just moved this blog up four million notches on the Google search result list for ‘klingon’. Anyway, half the language rhymes with ‘Nike Swoosh’. Since they are foaming-at-the-mouth soccer fans, that’s rather appropriate.

São Paulo has the largest Japanese population in the world, outside of Japan. Which means there are Japanese/Brazilian fusion restaurants. OK…

Brazilians LOVE pork. The national dish is a bean stew with every imaginable part of a pig thrown in. Like in Europe, I don’t know how vegetarians handle going out to dinner.

And yes, there’s a level of poverty unlike anything you can imagine. It’s very strange, on one block you’ll see an expensive office building or ritzy high-rise (both with armed guards standing in front, glaring at passers-by) and a few blocks away you’ll see shacks and slums, and empty, one- and two-story windowless buildings. And shoeless kids, sleeping on the sidewalks. And we think OUR social safety net sucks…

On that happy note… more later…

Bob-O is an Ironman.

(A still image taken from the live feed at the finish line. Mr. D had just 'rolled' under the tape.)

Running Vacation February ‘08

While I’m sitting on my butt on a Friday night watching live internet coverage of the Bonita New Zealand Ironman and looking for Bob-O, I thought I’d type some drivel about what I did on my winter vacation. Incidentally, as I type, Iron Bob just finished biking after 6 hours and 19 minutes and change. In drizzly rain, which is not what he wanted, but at least he made it to T2. And now as he runs a frickin’ marathon, I’ll continue to tap at the keyboard, waiting for still more snow to hit the northeast tonight. And hear ‘Come On Eileen’ for the 73rd time on the live feed.

Anyway, this post’s title is misleading, it wasn’t really a ‘running vacation’ I went on. Actually, it was a vacation with some running thrown into it. And a little swimming that wasn’t much to write home about, but you know I will.

So I headed down to Palm Beach, and that was peachy. As I mentioned before, the weather was mostly rainy with scattered sun that arrived right about when you gave up expecting any nice weather at the end of the day. So I was at the mercy of the typical hotel gym with rickety Cybex machines and an evil treadmill that had a 20-second lag between the time you pressed the ‘increase speed’ button and it actually happening. The first time I got on the treadmill I inadvertently increased the speed to a 6:20 mile; now maybe I can do that on dry land, but not on some George Jetson-inspired Curse-of-J.W. -Marriott treadmill. So after nearly flying off the back end, I managed to get the speed down a bit and continue yet another mind-numbing run in another windowless room in another chain hotel, a room with more mirrors than the Playboy Mansion.

Well, there’s not much to say about Palm Beach other than it helps to be white, elderly and have lots of money to live there. Oh, and I already discussed the weather, that’s perfectly OK. I was informed at one point that there’s a new ordinance banning male runners from running shirtless (not so sure about female runners), which doesn’t get me hot and bothered, but makes me glad I don’t live there year-round. I don’t care one way or another about that law, but if it hits 90 degrees and 90% humidity on a July day I’d like the option to remove that one piece of clothing to avoid death by chafing.

Oh, I forgot to complain about the flight down to FL. Three hours with the screamingest toddler ever conceived, in the seat behind me. It was so bad the mother was apologizing to the entire passenger list every five minutes. And of course, the child belonged to one of the most dysfunctional couples ever to come out of Long Island, who argued loudly with each other in an unbelievably ‘fuggedaboutit’-inflected accent about how best to shut the kid up. I thought to myself: if they were my parents, I’d be screaming, too.

So I earnestly prayed to every deity I could think of before the eight hour flight to São Paulo that it would not be another hellish experience. The cards are always stacked against you (rude people, obese people who can’t fit in the seats and spill over into yours, uncontrollable kids, surly airline employees, non-existent legroom, surgery/mealtime), but surprisingly, and happily, the trip turned out OK. Thank you, Ahura Mazda.

Brazil’s Atlantic coast is so far east that it’s two hours ahead of the U.S. east coast, believe it or not, so the noon departure meant landing at 10PM local time. And to start things off on a freaky note, as soon as I got to the hotel in downtown São Paulo, it was under a lunar eclipse.

All the guide books tell you Brazil is dangerous, in a benign sort of way; so keep all doors locked, don’t show anyone a laptop, keep your jewelry at home, copy your passport, AND get a tetanus and/or yellow fever shot. Well, I didn’t have time to get my shots, but I was ready for any potential man-made crime. I’ll just let you know now that I would not become the victim of any crime other than getting a frightening eyeful of thong abuse later at the beach.

Well, more later, including Brazil fun facts, and why Rio is runner heaven (except for the heat). Gotta listen to ‘Come On Eileen’ again, and make sure Iron Bob gets through that final 42K distance.

(Update: the deities heard my prayers again, no more Dexy's Midnight Runners on the live feed from NZ. NOW it's Nelly F. and Timba and Gwen as the winners come through... oh well)

Back Home

Got back late yesterday from a long trip; lots, and I mean LOTS more on that later. So I’ve been missing out on races and other folks’ races, and obsessing about marathons/triathlons and general training in the place the Lenape Indians once called Manna-hata, or ‘Island of Many Hills’. Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Glad to be home, though I understand snow hit here and the rest of the Northeast last Friday. Sorry to gloat, but I was in warm Florida, at least for the first part of the trip. Even though it rained most of the time, it was still between 60 and 80 degrees. I just missed the state’s power outage yesterday on my way back, by the way.

The other destination was, well, three times hotter than FL. Of all places, I, Cranky ended up in South America’s summer season… and Brazil. Never been, had the opportunity, and took it. Just remember the worst, coldest temperatures you’ve experienced this winter, and go to the damp heat equivalent at the other end of the thermometer and that’s what I experienced for a few days, on the lower half of the planet at that. Jesus, Joseph and Mary, holla at your boy… it was HOT. I wish old JC had been around to turn water into Gatorade, let me tell you.

So pictures and crap are coming soon. No races, I just did training runs among the thousands and thousands of people who run in Rio. Who would’ve thought Brazil would have so many runners? Who run mid-day in sweltering heat? People crazy down there. But at least they’re running.

Checking In

So I sit here typing on some Playskool keyboard in a Marriott in Palm Beach, FL. You'd think the weather would be wonderful, but of course, it's raining off and on all day. I'll probably return to NYC the same shade of off-white as I was when I left.

By the way, Florida is like many other vacation spots, a buffet on just about every corner. What is it with bread pudding down here? It's on every frickin' menu.

So today I ran (alone, who runs in Palm Beach?) in the rain, which was OK considering it was 65 degrees. But I'm hoping my clothes dry out before I have to take a hair dryer to them.

So that's all I got for now. Its all so very, very interesting. I'll hit one of the three hotel faux-fitness club treadmills later, and will have to push off the walkers who spend hours on them getting up to their daily 1.5 mile quota.

More from Margaritaville, or whatever you call this place, later...

Race Report: Cherry Tree 10-Miler

Made it over to the borough of Brooklyn this morning for a 10-mile race, three loops of Prospect Park. The weather was clear and sunny, but it sure was cold. Anyway, without going on and on about anything not worth discussing, I did it, along with a few hundred other folks (some doing a three-person relay), and survived pretty well despite the sneaky hills. In the end I managed to finish a little over 1:07:20, and had I known that was going to be just 5 seconds off a 6-year-old PR I’d have really pushed my ass a little faster across the finish line. It was nice to finish reasonably well in a race and still feel OK, especially after a week of feeling tired and bored with the whole swim/bike/run routine I’ve been slogging through. As for that, I’ve come to the realization that maybe I should start splitting up my workouts (as in two a day) instead of doing everything in the morning and getting wiped out after two hours. The ‘swimming’ I’m doing (quotes intentional) alone tires me out before I get to weight training and biking and running. I’m hoping that approaching warmer weather will help me get over all that a little bit, ‘cause I hate late-day workouts.

Sometime later I’ll tell this week's fun story about dropping a swim flipper in the 17 foot deep end of my pool, and being unable to retrieve it from the bottom by myself, asking for help and causing an international incident among the minimum-wage kids managing said pool. Soon enough, a fine young lady in my lane helped me out and got the flipper while the kids went on to make doodles on their clipboards. If it happens again, I may have to start using the age card (“I’m old, I didn’t know what I was doing!”) several decades before I have a right to.

The other news is that I’m going out of town tomorrow, way out of town, for a week or so, and won’t be back until the end of the month. I won’t go into details now, but I PROMISE you I will have some goofball story to relate at some point. Oh, I’m not going anywhere to do a race or something, either. So folks, in the meantime, stay warm, hang in there, because at least the days are getting longer...