Cowboy Hazel

Today marks the end of the first half of 2008. I find this completely impossible. I’m going to turn 25 in less than two weeks and my marathon is already less than 5 months away! It just seems like I can’t keep up.

Anyway, this will be short because I am, as seems to always be the case lately, completely swamped with work. I put in over 90 hours of work last week! Part of it was that I picked up a rush job on for a luxury housing development in Tucson. I completely revamped the website (there’s still a few more things to do) and now I am working on a big paid search & SEO campaign to drive traffic. It’s exciting because the advertising budget I’ll be working with is considerably bigger than anything I’ve ever done before. I’m anxious to see what happens when you put real money into AdWords. So, part of that is getting all the analytics and tracking stuff setup which is going to take a bunch of work.

Plus, we’re getting close to the deadline for the Flopalongs project and I still have a monstrous amount of work to do on that, so that has been taking up a pretty big chunk of time too. I totally underestimated how much work that was going to take. And, as always, I’m putting in big hours for Precision Prospects. I just launched a big new real-time lead receiver system a week ago so that they can accept leads from their publishers with less hassle and less lag time. It has been a crazy week there because of that.

And, if that weren’t enough, I’ve still been trying to make some progress on my own publishing stuff — although that progress is not nearly what I had hoped it would be. I have a list of improvements a mile long that I want to make to my running log site. I keep getting great suggestions from fellow runners but don’t have the time to implement them.

Speaking of running, I managed to finish the month with 107.3 miles even though my stupidity in Philadelphia has left me with two severely bruised big toes. I was barely able to walk most of the week and took a couple extra rest days, but I seem to finally be doing better. I got a 9.5 mile run in yesterday and 4 today and my feet are actually feeling alright. It’s a nice change after being in horrible pain for a week.

Well, I need to get back to work, so that will be all. I just wanted to keep the world (or, more accurately, the very small portion of it who reads my blog) up to date on what’s been going on in my crazy life lately.

I just got back from an grueling day trip to Philadelphia. Don’t get me wrong — It was a fun trip and I’m totally glad I took it (you might even say I needed it for my mental sanity), but still it was exhausting and right now I am in more pain than I can remember ever being in. I got so ridiculously sunburnt in such a random, uneven fashion that I would laugh at myself for looking so stupid if it didn’t hurt so much to move my face right now… And, on top of that, I walked over 18 miles today in incredibly uncomfortable shoes that are too small for me (they were bothering me this morning before I left my apartment — Stupid Robert, stupid…) and my feet are swollen as hell now and my big toes are very sore to the touch and look like they’re going to bruise up.  As if that weren’t enough, there was some unmentionable chafing that occurred today. The pain that caused me when I got in the shower tonight made the extreme sunburn and swollen feet seem like the mildest of discomforts in comparison…

So, I’m gonna keep this pretty short because I am, as mentioned, feeling like shit. On top of that, I worked about 90 hours this past week, ran over 35 miles, went to a Yankees game with my friend Diana, and as a result have gotten far too little sleep. This next week is going to be equally intense so I should get whatever sleep I can tonight. I just want to jot down a few notes about my trip to Philly while it’s fresh in my head.

So, the day started with me walking through downtown on the way to the Historic District. As in any city, walking downtown early on a Sunday morning was eerily quiet and discomforting. I’m glad that I came back through there again on my way out, otherwise I would have been left with a bad impression. Anyway, I made it down to the Historical District after getting some breakfast and went to see the Liberty Bell. I must say, I was disappointed. It was smaller than I had imagined and it was in such a fake, modern setting that it didn’t even seem real. I snapped a few photos and then quickly headed over to Independence Hall. There was a whole schedule and ticket process for that, so I opted out and went and saw the pages from the Constitution in Congress Hall next door. Again, disappointing. I don’t know what I imagined it would be like, but what was there wasn’t that impressive.

After leaving the Historical District somewhat disillusioned, I wandered to Penn’s Landing. There was a security guard at the gate but he waved me in. They were setting up for some event. I was walking around taking photos and looking at the river when another guard came up to me and kicked me out because apparently I wasn’t supposed to be there. I ended up having to make a big loop around the parking lot because they kicked me out on the opposite side that I came in on.

From there, I walked along the base of the highway back towards the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I decided to walk over it to Delaware and back. Of course, when I got home and looked at a map, I realized that I had actually walked to New Jersey, not Delaware. This would be a good time to mention the fact that I had no map with me and had not looked at directions for anything. I’ve never been to Philadelphia before, either. I just decided to wing it. So, as I’m walking back across the bridge, I scan the horizon looking for the ballpark. I see what I think is a stadium way off to the west and, since I can’t see anything else on the Philadelphia side of the river, I decide that has to be it and start walking in that general direction.

About an hour and a half later, I was losing hope and thinking that I’d gotten myself horribly lost when a drunk man stumbled out of a random bar and asked me if I need directions. I tell him I’m going to the Phillies game and ask where the stadium is. He confirms that I am going the right direction (pretty much) but says that it’s a helluva long way away still. Considering that I’ve been walking for like five straight hours at this point, that was not the news I wanted to hear. I decided to hail a cab, but none were coming by. Finally, like twenty minutes later, the top of the stadium emerges behind a building. You have no idea how happy that made me. I finally got there about a half hour before the game started, but by that point, I was so thirsty and hot and my feet hurt so bad I could barely keep going.

As soon as I got into the ballpark, I bought three waters ($12) and an ugly Phillies hat to keep off the sun ($22). I sat in the shade for a while, but then went out to my seat as the game started and got scorched for six innings until we finally got shadows. The game was good — the Phillies lost 3-2 to the Angels. It’s too bad they didn’t win, but at least it was close. I was surprised how enthusiastic and supportive the Phillies fans were. After you hear so much crap about Eagles fans and how they’re always booing the team, I didn’t expect to see 40,000+ Philadelphians out there intensely rooting on their baseball team. I think about 95% of the crowd was in Phillies gear of some form or another and they all got real excited whenever anything even remotely positive happened. The park itself is awesome too. I think they just built it in 2004. Anyway, I really like the way that the architecture plays with the traditional notion of space within a stadium.

By the end of the game, I was totally wiped out but I couldn’t find a bus or a taxi or anything, so I ended up just walking back to the city. I stopped and got some dinner, but other than that, it was pretty much a straight line from the stadium back to the train station.

All in all, it was a pretty good trip. I saw everything I had wanted to see (except the Rocky Statue which I couldn’t find), ate a real Philly Cheesesteak, added another major league stadium to the list of those I’ve seen games at, and, most importantly, was able to take a big step away from all the work that’s sitting on my plate and catch my breath, so to speak.

Oh, and one last thing before I call it a night… When I was got back to New York and was heading uptown on the 2, I overheard one of the most interesting conversations ever:

Man 1: “Do you ever get bees in your apartment?”
Man 2: “No.” Pause. “Why, do you?”
Man 1: “No.”

 A flurry of thoughts are dashing around my head right now but none of them seem to reachable. All week, I’ve had little snippets here and there, brief flashes of inspiration and I think, “Ooh, I should write that in my blog,” but now as I sit here in front of my computer, attempting to put them onto paper (so to speak) they all dance away. Imagine a mason jar full of fireflies and a freckled kid dipping his chubby fingers in trying to grab one, but they keep whirring away and escaping.

Well, I guess I’ll just start with a rundown of recent events in reverse chronological order and see where that leads me.

I went for a ten mile run early this morning along the East River with Sarah and Christopher. It was a good run up until about mile eight when I just ran out of steam.  I finished, although it wasn’t as strong of a finish as I would have liked.  To be fair, though, I wasn’t feeling 100% last night and didn’t really sleep well. I was switching back and forth between 5:30 runs in the park and afternoon runs here on the river all week. After today’s run, I’m at 52.6 miles for the month, so I’m right on pace to clear 100 again. I’ll pick up the mileage gradually between here and the end of July, but I won’t start the official marathon training until the beginning of August.

Other than this morning’s run, I was super-duper unproductive today. I had plans of getting a bunch of work and errands done, but I got sucked into the end of Dostoevsky’s The Possessed and couldn’t put it down. It, like all his other books, was an amazing novel. I wish there were more that I could say about it, but I am just so opposed to the whole idea of literary criticism and literary theory, that I feel like an ass anytime I critique a book. No offense to all you lit-theory folks out there, but I am of the opinion that writing responsive literature would be a much better use of time than merely deconstructing every fucking line in a book. Anyway, I’m a little sad that I’ve finished reading Dostoevsky’s four main novels. I wish there were more. Count that as my analysis.

Other than finishing the book, I didn’t do much of anything today except running to the store (two stores, actually) to buy toilet paper and a bottle of Riesling. That trip wouldn’t have even earned mention here if it hadn’t been for the fact that the clerk at the liquor store said, “Happy Father’s Day,” to me as I walked away from the counter. Two thoughts hit me: 1.) Nobody has ever told me that before, do I really look old enough that you assume I’m a father? 2.) Oh shit, I forgot to tell my dad happy Father’s Day when I talked to him on the phone earlier!

Yesterday afternoon found me sitting outside at a café in Union Square with Sareeka and Parag when the monsoon-like downpours hit the city. It was crazy to see how panicked and flustered everyone got over a little bit of rain (okay… a lot of rain). It may have been the bloody Mary’s I’d downed at lunch, or the beers I’d had for breakfast (hair of the dog), or maybe just the fact that I was wearing shorts and just generally quite relaxed — but, whatever the reason, I found the whole scenario quite amusing. Awnings were filling with water and crashing down, people without umbrellas were running franticly and fighting each other for cabs, sidewalk art sellers were racing to cover their goods. We sat outside as long as we could under our table’s umbrella, but finally it just got too wet. We huddled inside at the bar for a while and then, when the sky cleared, we all went our separate ways. My way led me over to Strand Bookstore where I was, “like a kid in a candy store,” as Sarah imagined it. I left with a huge bag full of books and, right on schedule, the sky opened up again and began dumping out rain. Luckily, the bags from Strand were plastic and I made it back to the 6 with the books intact.

That morning, while sitting in my apartment drinking a breakfast of Coors Light for effort in an effort to get rid of a mild hangover, I got a phone call from my dad. I knew what it was before I even picked it up. His mom had a stroke almost a week ago and they only expected her to live a few hours after it but instead of passing then, she held on for the entire week. Luckily, she was peaceful and not in any pain. I expected to feel more emotion at the news that she had died, but it never really hit me. I suppose the biggest reason for that, though, is because I know that she’s better off now than she was when she was here. I certainly don’t mean that in the same sense that my parents would say it — they are Christians and I am an atheist — but I know that we can agree that after a certain point, the afterlife is more desirable than the constant pain and mental weakness that old age brings with it. Whether you believe she is in heaven as they do, or that she is simply in nothingness — a room in which the only candle lighting it has been extinguished — as I do, you can agree that she is better off now. And so, maybe it’s not a flaw in my character that I haven’t grieved over her death. Why would you grieve an improvement in someone’s situation?

Pause.

The mild hangover Saturday morning came from a party at my old neighbors’ place in Hell’s Kitchen Friday night. Party might not be exactly the right word — perhaps get-together works better. Regardless, about ten of us convened to eat appetizers and drink wine while enjoying high-brow entertainment such as Dance Dance Revolution and a karaoke game for PS3 that I don’t remember the name of with their kids. At a certain point, however, the video games were put away and we began playing cards and talking of pregnancy. Yes, pregnancy. And, suddenly, I felt like such a kid myself. Here I am, freaking out about my impending twenty-fifth birthday, and my friends are all so far beyond me — married, divorced, married, having kids, having more kids. But, I guess that’s part of why this whole 25 thing scares me so much — I still don’t feel like a grown-up at all, but 25 is such a grown-up age. I’d like to elaborate on this more, but I’m not really up to the challenge right now because I’m tired and because I almost finished that bottle of Riesling. Let’s just say that I have accomplished almost nothing that I imagined I would have by the time that I turned 25 and that it’s bothering me… a lot.

Before that, there was nothing too exciting to report in my week. I went running everyday, then would spend 12 or 13 hours working, read a little bit, go to sleep, and start the whole routine over again. I did find time to watch a couple of the NBA Finals games, which were surprisingly entertaining. Game 5 is on now and is stealing my attention. I’m going to go watch it for a while, but I doubt I’ll make it to the end. I have to get up at 4:00 tomorrow morning and am already drowsy, so I’ll probably head to bed soon. Why did they make the game so late on a Sunday?

It is so ridiculously hot, I can’t stand it. I met with Antonio at 7:30 this morning to go for a run along the East River, trying to beat the heat, but it was already 86 degrees and 61% humidity. By the time I finished stretching and walking the block-and-a-half to the FDR from my house, I was sweating like a greased pig. We started slowly, figuring that the heat would take its toll, but that wasn’t enough. We didn’t hit the halfway turn-around point until 14:44, (Usually I get there around 13:55) and then coming back I completely lost all my steam. He was doing better than me and ran ahead. I had to slow down considerably, but somehow found managed to get back to 116th Street on fumes. I finished the 4.1 miles in 29:31 which was 7 minute 11 second pace. That doesn’t sound too bad, but this is my almost daily run, it has only one small hill, and I have been running it near 6 minute, 40 second miles lately. So, dropping a full half minute per mile on the one route that I always do well on seemed like a big step backwards.

But, then, as I was back home standing in my shower, hoping that the frigid water would at some point cause me to stop sweating, it hit me — there’s actually more positive to take out of this morning’s run than anything. First of all, I kept running for two miles after I felt that it was no longer humanly possible for me to keep running. I didn’t quit. I know that running is as much mental as physical and one of my biggest worries about my upcoming marathon is that I’m not mentally prepared to deal with the pain. Today’s run was a good sign that I’m moving in the right direction. My second thought was that, running just over 7 minute miles really isn’t bad at all. I went back through my running log and found that I was running slower than today at the beginning of March. Today’s horrible pace was early March’s average. I went back a little further to September ‘07, and the first time that I ran these 4.1 miles along the East River. The time? 33:20, a 8:07 pace. I’ve dropped almost a minute-and-a-half of my pace in 9 months! True, I was in horrible shape back in September, but still, that’s an insane improvement.

Thinking of all that helps reaffirm in my mind my training method — run as hard as you can every time you run. Every time I do these 4.1 miles along the East River, or a loop of Park Drive, I’m looking to break my personal record for that route. I know there are a lot of people out there who will say that that’s not the proper way to train, but I am sticking to my guns, so to speak. I mean, it’s working, so why change it? (Plus, I’m obsessed by stats, so intentionally easing up on the pace is out of the question…)

Well, this past week, they held the lotteries for the NYC Marathon and Half-Marathon. I got picked for the half, but not the full marathon. That half is on July 27th and should be a good race (as long as it’s not so fucking hot that day). It’ll be the longest timed race I’ve ever ran, but I’m confident going into it that I’ll be able to do well. The course is great: a loop of Central Park then down towards Battery Park on city streets. I was super disappointed that I didn’t get picked to run the marathon though. I had really wanted to run my first marathon here in the city. I contemplated just waiting and re-entering the lottery next year, but after thinking it over, I feel like I need to just get this whole first marathon thing out of the way now that I have momentum on my side. So, I registered for Philadelphia. It’s two weeks after NYC, so I’ll be on a similar training schedule as all those runners, and it’s close enough that I can take the train instead of having to fly. So, now, the countdown begins: 167 days until my first marathon…

They asked me while registering what my projected time was. I took a minute to mull that one over, but finally just went ahead and put down the 3 hours and 10 minute goal that I’m setting for myself. And, yes, that’s the magic number that would get me qualified for Boston next April. It seems almost greedy to be trying to qualify for Boston on my first marathon, but nobody ever said, “Go little or go home,” right? I know that there’s a huge amount of ground to cover (both literally and figuratively) between now and November to get myself into good enough shape to sustain a 7:15 pace for an entire 26.2 miles, but I plan on somehow making it happen. Wish me luck!

Wow, what a great way to come back to NYC! After two weeks of being away, enduring the difficulties of altitude and longing to be back running in the city, I finally got a chance to run in Central Park today — at 5:30 this morning with 2,000 other runners as part of the NYRR 50th Anniversary Run. Today’s race is very high on my list of all-time favorites. Both the crazy early start time and the steadily falling rain kept all but the most dedicated of runners away. There was an energy at the starting line that I haven’t felt in a really long time. In fact, that energy carried me to too quick of a start. I forgot my stopwatch in my bag so I don’t know the exact times, but I do know that I was running fast the first couple of miles. Then, right after the mile 3 marker, there was a downhill stretch and I was feeling great, so I began to just haul ass. I dramatically underestimated the hill coming back down the west side of the park, though, and it killed me. I completely ran out of gas and barely made it to the top. I recovered a bit, but miles 4 and 5 were considerably slower that then first 3. Still, I managed to finish in 33:49, which is a 6:45 per mile pace and is almost a minute better than my previous best 5 miler. I regret not pacing myself better during that stretch in the middle because I think I could have finished with an even better time if I had. But, all I can do is learn from yet another pacing mistake and try harder to not start these races so quick.

Getting down to the race was not nearly as fun as the race itself. I woke up at the ungodly hour of 4:00 in the morning, threw on my running clothes, ate a PB&J, and headed out the door around 4:20. I jogged the half mile to Lex, but when I got down to the 6, the attendant announced that no trains would be running until 5:00 and that we had to go up to 125th and then come back down. That happened to me yesterday and it took forever so I decided to just jog over to 116th & Malcolm X and catch the 1 there. I get down into the station (by the way, this is the dirtiest subway station I have ever seen in my life — there were packs of rats roaming all over, not just on the tracks but on the platforms too) and see another runner waiting for the train. We start talking (Why is it that runners are so much friendlier than everyone else in the city?) and she tells me that she’s been waiting for a long time already and is about to give up and get a cab, then asks if I want to split one, but I have no cash and say no. She leaves and a train finally shows up, I take it down to 66th, then run from there to the baggage check (it’s pouring rain at this point), drop off my backpack and hurry into my corral right as they’re moving everyone up closer to the starting line. We’re packed in solid and I never even get a chance to stretch (I should have on the subway, but didn’t think of it.) Anyway, even though it took me over an hour, I did make it to the start in time (barely) so I feel relatively lucky. I would have been so bummed if I hadn’t made it.

All in all, it was a great morning. I was very glad that I dragged myself out of bed to go run in the rain. I always feel sluggish in these morning races, but I’m thinking that might be because I never run in the mornings. So, I am going to try doing more early morning training runs. I’m meeting up with another runner tomorrow at 5:45am. Two days of pre six o’clock runs back to back for Robert Reese, who would have thought it?

I was going to start with the quote, “What a long strange trip it’s been,” but then I realized that that would be a poor decision on two levels: the album name has been so completely over-used as an ironic quote that it has almost become kitschy, and secondly, my trip hasn’t been all that long or strange. Actually, it was just about the perfect length — I had enough time to have a nice, relaxing with my parents and see my old stomping grounds, but now I’m definitely ready to get back to NYC — and as for the strange part, the trip went pretty much exactly as I had imagined it would…

I’ll start with the Bolder Boulder (photos). As I predicted, I came nowhere near my 10K personal record. I finished in 44:53, which was however, my best Bolder Boulder time ever (keep in mind that the only other year I ran it while in decent running shape, 2001, I had a pretty nasty case of the stomach flu and threw up 10 minutes before starting the race — still I only beat that time by about a minute). The elevation was a lot of the problem, or maybe all of it, I’m not sure, but I just had absolutely no energy. I came close to quitting a couple times but didn’t because I figured it would be as much of a hassle to walk to the finish as to just keep running. When I did finish, the temperature was in the low fifties and it had started to rain. Because of the difference in wave start times and my dad’s pace, I ended up waiting for him in the cold (still in running shorts) for almost an hour and a half. I took advantage of the time to go wonder around the campus of my alma mater — It was the first time I had been back since I graduated. It looked pretty much the same as I remembered it except that they were putting up a few new buildings. I had expected some emotion on being back there, but there was none. After my little walking tour of the campus, I headed back over to Folsom Field and found a partially-indoor seat in the stands and waited for my dad to finish. After that we went to my grandma’s house and took her to Chili’s. All in all, it was a good day, even if the race didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.

The night before the Bolder Boulder, I met up with Stoltz and his girlfriend at the Rock Bottom back by my parents’ old house for a couple beers. We had a good visit, discussing a wide range of topics including, but not limited to: his brother’s wedding the previous day, our old shenanigans, how strange Coloradans seem when you’ve been out of the state for a while, literary criticism, plans for the future, and of course, the upcoming election, rising gas prices, and the ailing environment.

Tuesday through Friday I worked 8-9 hour days for Precision. It was good to have something to keep busy on. I think that’s part of why I was able to take such a long trip without going stir crazy; I usually don’t do well with long vacations because I get bored. It was also good to be able to keep working on that while being out here from a financial standpoint; there’s no way that I could have afforded to just take a week-and-a-half off of work.

My sister, who lives in Fort Collins now, came down last weekend, then again for a couple days midweek, and is coming back down for the afternoon today. We played tennis on Wednesday and Thursday and are going to again today. That has been one of the best parts of the trip. It’s crazy how much simpler playing tennis is here than it is back in New York. Here, we decided we wanted to play tennis, got our stuff, drove around until we found a court, then played. In NYC last year, I had to pay $100 for a tennis permit, buy tennis shoes (casual athletic shoes weren’t good enough — they actually checked the soles), register for a time-slot on the Central Park courts, wait until that exact time (when a buzzer would go off), and play for exactly 60 minutes before another buzzer went off signaling that we had to leave the courts.

Sometimes, things like this make me wonder why the hell I’m paying such a ridiculous amount of money to live in my crowded corner of Manhattan. I’ve actually been having quite a few similar thoughts all week. It’s the little things that I’m realizing I miss most — like being able to sit on the back porch and enjoy the evening breeze, only having to go as far as the basement to do laundry, not hearing the neighbors upstairs walking around at weird hours of the night. I mean, sure, there are million great reasons to live in NYC — it is, after all, the greatest city in the world — but I’m beginning to think that I might not belong in a city at all. This trip has re-instated a dormant longing inside of me to move outside the city limits somewhere and begin living life as a country-boy.

So the next question becomes, Where? Back to Colorado? No. I feel like crap every time I’m out here. The elevation has completely kicked my ass. Plus, the air is so dry that my lips are chapped and my hands are peeling despite the fact that I’ve been drinking what seems like gallons of water a day and repeatedly applying chapstick and lotion. And then, there’s the hayfever. My eye was secreting some sort of nastyness so thick and disgusting yesterday after my run that I could hardly see anything out of it. I’ve been using boxes of Kleenex despite taking Claritin everyday. So, no, Colorado is not the place for me.

I’ve been thinking about upstate New York instead. Maybe something in the Catskills. But I really haven’t looked into it in that much detail yet because none of this will be right away, as I just re-signed my lease and will be in Harlem now at least until September 2009. But it is something that I’m definitely going to start thinking about.

In the midst of everything else, I managed to finish the month of May with over 100 miles of running logged (101.6 to be exact). Although I was running only an average 7:09 pace while out here in Colorado, I did manage to get in almost 27 miles which was enough to get me to my monthly goal that I had set back in February. It was good to finally be back to hundred mile months after a seven year hiatus, but the run itself that put me over the top yesterday just hurt — like all the others that I’ve had since I’ve been here. I am so looking forward to being back near sea level and actually being able to enjoy running.