Back of the Pack: Observations of a Social Athlete

The Twain Shall Meet - 2008 Summer Olympics

2008-08-11T17:40:00.000-07:00

I love the Olympics and I really love watching the Olympics.

Not in person- I've never done that. I blew the only chance I ever had to see an Olympic event in person out of sheer ignorance. In 1980 my father-in-law was on one of the Committees for the Lake Placid Winter Olympics and not only did he have event tickets - he had that rarest of all things, a pass to drive a car into Lake Placid and park. It was just a short hop from Ticonderoga to Lake Placid, and it is my recollection that he took advantage of both several times.

I don't know why he offered me the tickets - I was not "blood" and "low status" by his standards. Whenever he offered me a "cold one" for instance, it was usually Milwaukee's Finest, and not a Molson Brador- that was reserved for Bob or John, or for higher ranking company than me. But he did - 2 tickets to the Ice Dancing Finals. And I, stupidly and to my on-going regret, turned them down. I claimed I had papers to correct. That was true, but I always had papers to correct and they could have waited. The true reason was I had never heard of Ice Dancing and it didn't sound like a "real" Olympic event - why would I want to see that?

No, all my watching has been on TV, and every 4 years, I have been engrossed and riveted, openings to prelims, heats to finals, and award ceremonies to closing ceremonies. I could never get enough.

I loved it when the Winter and Summer Olympics were split out of the same year, so my wait was only two years from Games to Games. The TV coverage became better and more comprehensive and I loved that, too. But, it still wasn't enough. I guess my Type A personality extends to Olympics Watching, too.

I not only wanted to watch more, I wanted to watch more events. Sure I loved skating (including, it turns out, Ice Dancing) and gymnastics, swimming and track and field, but I wanted more. I wanted Team Handball, and Archery, Luge and obscure Nordic races. And I wanted to see the "Back of the Packers" from the other countries of the world, athletes like me who would never medal, but who were thrilled and proud to participate.

For the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, I was one of the few who actually bought the "Silver Package" of extra TV coverage offered by NBC through our cable company. I wanted to root for the obscure and the hopeful, but mostly what I got was a lot of boxing. I'm not opposed to boxing - as a kid I learned to box at my YMCA and I appreciate what it's like to hit and be hit, and I can get really excited by a good fight. But, I can see as much boxing as I want without having to wait 4 years.

But this year - finally - the Olympics and TV have been melded with the Internet! I can watch TV in the morning and in the evening. I can watch on NBC and MSNBC. And best of all - I can watch events on my computer - LIVE! It's wonderful.

AT 6 in the morning I've watched a prelim round of Women's Singles Badminton - England vs. Hong Kong. It was great! For those of you whose only experience with badminton is of the back yard or mandatory gym class kind - you ain't seen notin'! It's a fast and athletic game, filled with speed and grace, power and torgue, angles and touch. By the way, I've known this ever since 1970 when I was a waiter in a Howard Johnson's on South Road in Poughkeepsie - Millie, a personable and attractive "older" waitress of about 34 played competitively, and she set me straight about the sport.

So far, I've also watched fencing, field hockey, trap shooting, team handball (finally!),equestrian events and water polo. Did you know that men's water polo players often wear 2 bathing suits? It gets a little rough under the water, and it's not unusual for a player to have his suit grabbed and pulled right off. I learned this from our pediatrician - he used to play in Jamaica when he was younger.

I also watched soccer, basketball and swimming - I'm not opposed to the major sports. I like them , too. I am rooting for Michael Phelps and I hope he gets his 8 gold medals. But, I'm really rooting hard for Dara Torres - I know what it's like to be old and to go like hell for 50 meters in the water.

Here's a confession - sometimes I miss the announcers, especially when I don't know very much about the sport or the participants. I take the time to read the features on the website - there are lots of them and they are very comprehensive. But, I still don't know why the Italian fencer took off her helmet and complained after the South Korean woman scored a point. If it were basketball or baseball, an announcer would have let me know. I suppose I could always ask my daughter's roommate the next time I see her - she'll be the Captain of Boston College's fencing team in the fall.

Another great feature? If I missed it live, I can watch videos or photos whenever I have the time. There's a 52 minute video of highlights of the Opening Ceremony - I plan to make some room in my schedule to watch it. I found a pretty funny photo sequence of the Women's softball team goofing with President Bush, putting a chalk "Bird" hand imprint on the back of his shirt. He looks pretty relaxed, and was a good sport about it. By the way, he said the highlight of his 4 day stay at the Olympics was getting his picture taken with the men's and women's baseball teams. Good thing, too, since both sports will be eliminated in the 2012 games.

I'm pretty excited - there's still synchronized swimming, rhythmic gymnastics, modern pentathlon, and table tennis to go. This year they've added trampoline - I've got to check that out, too. If I click on the Video Control Room button on the left side of the screen, I can watch up to 4 events simultaneously - how can it get any better than that?

I'll be checking them all out on NBCOlympics.com. Click on the link and you can , too.

See you out there.

The Race

2008-08-03T12:40:00.000-07:00

Two hundred yards. Two teams. Two swimmers per team. Two laps per swimmer, each swimmer alternating laps.

We were almost to the end of our last Stroke Improvement class, and this was Coach Aaron's final gift to us - a relay race. We were tired from the usual gamut of drills, and it was late, but this was a good idea, right? After all, we were all triathletes, and triathlons are races. So, let's figure out the teams and get to it!

Kelly and Sally are swimming without fins and they are the fastest - they can't be on the same team. Carol is swimming with long frogman fins and I am swimming with blue zoomers - we are the slower swimmers so we can't be on the same team. Carol is faster than me, and Kelly is faster than everyone else, so the teams should be Carol and Sally, and me and Kelly.

I want to be on Kelly's team - she's the best, and years of high school gym classes and neighborhood pickup games have taught me to size up the players and covet being on the team with the best. When you have been "blessed" with no talent and fewer skills, it's the only way to have a shot at winning.

Only this time, I am having second thoughts. I've been a triathlete all right, and I have competed in 8 tri's so far. But, because I am so slow, the only one I am ever competing with is myself, and no one else much cares whether I win or lose the competition with myself.

Kelly, on the other hand, is an athlete - a superb, competitive athlete, and she goes into races wanting to win, and she often does. Suppose I am on her team and we lose? Because of me? Kelly will say, "You did your best!" and "Good effort!", but she'll be disappointed. I'll decide that I'll risk it - I want to be on Kelly's team.

Kelly is faster than Sally. Carol is faster than me. Should be a good race.

Carol and I lead off. She is a bit a head of me, as I thought she would be. I am sloppy off the wall - no flip turns for either of us - and that ensures that I can't catch her coming back in, and she touches her partner first. I am not far behind and as soon as I touch her hand, Kelly drives off the wall and down the pool. She is really, really fast and she catches Sally, and has the lead on the way back in.

I swam my lap hard and I am standing in the shallow end of the pool, watching Kelly and gasping. Then it sinks in - in class, I always swim my "melt downs" - repetitive sprints - at a one-to-one ratio. That is, I sprint a lap in 45 seconds and then I rest for at least 45 seconds before sprinting again. Kelly always finishes her sprints in under 35 seconds. I am not going to be able to catch my breath by the time she comes in.

I am terrified of going hard into the deep end of the pool out of breath. I can't do it - won't try it. I tell Aaron I can't go. Gees, one lap in and I've screwed it up.

But Aaron asks Kelly if she can go again, and as soon as she figures out what's going on, she does! By this time, Carol is yards ahead of her, and kicking furiously. She beats Kelly back in, and touches. Sally knifes forward, arms churning.

By the time I start, Sally is five yards ahead. I'm pretty sure I can't catch her, but Kelly has swum her guts out and I go hard. I am sloppy off the wall - my suit has started to slip down my hips - and by the time I am around and kicking off, Sally is still five yards ahead. I hear Kelly cheering.

I picture Kelly's swift arm stoking in my head and I try to imitate her, cycling faster and faster. I shorten my kicks, and make them tight and strong, keeping my legs together. I am going faster, but my suit is starting to slide. I don't dare reach down to pull it up.

And then, a miracle - the five yards between me and Sally is down to three! By the middle of the pool I think, "I can catch her!" I put my face in the water and keep it there - breathing be damned. My lungs are screaming, but it's ok - I've done this in practice before and I know I can make it. I see the "T" at the end of the lane line, and then I am past Sally. I touch the wall and we've won!

I flop my arms over the edge of the pool, lean over and suck in the air. As soon as I can stand upright, I turn to Kelly and she high fives me. I tell her about almost losing my suit, and she tells her boys, who are watching, that there's almost been a full moon in the pool. They laugh - I guess it is pretty funny. I don't care, though - we've won.

I can tell from her expression and her exuberance and the sound of her voice that Kelly is very happy we have won. I feel like I have just taken a powerful narcotic. I can't believe how good I feel.

As soon as I catch my breath, Aaron has us all swimming cool down laps. He tells me I don't have to do them - he knows how tired I was after the race - but I'm on a high and there's no way I'm going to quit before I finish the workout.

As I climb out of the pool at the end of the laps, Kelly's husband Craig, who had been watching the class with their boys, comes over and says, "You were very strong in the pool tonight." This, from a superb athlete, who routinely wins races and triathlons. I am touched and the narcotics kick in again.

On this night, the stars and the planets aligned, and with the help of my friend and team mate Kelly the Quick, for one brief,ecstatic moment, I know what it is like to be and feel like a winner. It's amazing!

See you out there.

RAGBRAI 2009: I've Decided to Do It - Now What?

2008-08-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

Ok - as I mentioned in my previous entry, with a little prompting from my brother-in-law Bob, I've decided to spend 7 days next summer riding my bike 470 miles across the state of Iowa. What now?

As the reality set in, I began to think about things like, "How do I get there?" "How do I get my bike there?" "What will I eat?" "Where do I sleep?" and "With 10,000 other people there, including a lot of women, just how long are those potty lines going to be?"

For me, the first step was " Google Everything Related to RAGBRAI"

I started with the Official RAGBRAI Website, which was pretty informative.

Then I went to the RAGBRAI entry in Wikipedia,which was interesting and which lead me to

R. Bruhn's Best and Worst of RAGBRAI®

Mr. Bruhn has been doing RAGBRAI for a number of years, and each year he does a wonderful, wacky, irreverent and very funny Best and Worst of Retrospective, complete with pictures, narratives, observations and rants.

I particularly enjoyed R. Bruhn's Best and Worst of RAGBRAI® XXX, 2002, which gives a RAGBRAI primer and explains some of the basics, like

"What is RAGBRAI, anyway?"; and

"How big is RAGBRAI, anyway?" and

"If RAGBRAI is so wacky and so much fun, how can it possibly be held in conservative, Republican Iowa? Any way?"

He also explains about such essentials as "SAG"; the various strategies for getting your clothes and stuff across Iowa, including signing on with a charter outfit; the RAGBRAI concept of teams; and the all important "kybo"!

I also enjoyed R. Bruhn’s Best and Worst of RAGBRAI® XXXV, 2007

As I mentioned, in addition to being informative, he is funny , very irreverent, and includes some definitely "R"- rated pictures to illustrate his points.

In short, if you'd like an insider's amusing view of RAGBRAI, check him out.

By the way, Bob's answer to "How do I get my clothes and stuff across Iowa?" is

"Rent a huge RV and find someone to drive it!"

See you out there.

RAGBRAI 2009

2008-08-01T07:54:00.000-07:00

A week or so ago my brother-in-law emailed me - he is planning to do RAGBRAI next year, and wondered if I might be interested in going along for the ride, so to speak. RAGBRAI is sponsored annually by the Des Moines Register and stands for the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa.

Register Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa

Here's the deal-eo: for the small fee of $125 you can join 8,500 like-minded souls some place on the western border of Iowa and over 7 days and 6 nights, ride clean across the state, about 472 miles, and dip your front tire in the Mississippi River. That averages out to about 68 miles per day. Of course, for a small additional fee, on one of those days the organizers will map out a Century ride, just in case you are looking for something a little more challenging.

What do you get for your fee? From the website: "The cost includes wristbands, route marking signage, baggage transportation, camping accommodations, discounts, sag wagon services, emergency medical services, traffic control, souvenir patch, daily route maps, and entries into drawing for a free bike for riders and other prizes for support vehicle drivers."

In other words, after 6 hours on a hard bicycle seat, you get to spend the next 8 sleeping in a tent on the hard ground. But you do get a souvenir patch!

Bob plans to ride this on his tandem bike and figures he can get his 12 year old son Mike to go along with him. You might remember Bob and Mike from the entry I did on May 30 about their family pass time - Full Contact Swimming Pool Basketball.

I figure Bob came up with this idea while spinning on his exercise bike, recovering from knee replacement surgery - under the influence of some powerful narcotic pain killer.

Funny thing is, I'm intrigued by the idea and I have started researching it. Apparently I don't need a powerful narcotic to induce hallucinations. Actually, I've been thinking about doing a RAGBRAI ever since I first heard about it 15 years ago. Seems like the perfect way to spend a summer week if you're a Type-A personality with masochistic tendencies, which I am.

Of course, I am worried about one thing. As you know, when I ramped up my running mileage, I got a stress fracture, which means I got a crack in one of the bones in my foot. As I spend more and more time on a bike seat training for this event, will I get a - never mind.

Here are some pictures I found on the web of a recent RAGBRAI

I'm telling everyone here that I'm going to do this ride for the scenery:

Local Scenery

And I'm telling everyone here that I'm doing this ride for the local characters:

Local Characters

But what I'm really hoping to see on this ride is some local "color":

Local Color

See you out there.

Arriba la loma EMPINADA! or Marcy, Marcy, Marcy

2008-08-01T03:09:00.000-07:00

My friend Milt is a 45'er - that means he's climbed 45 of the 46 highest peaks in New York State and needs just one more - Mt. Marcy, the highest of them all - to become an Adirondack 46er. He's invited his friends and hiking buddies, including me, to join him for his joyous ascent on, hopefully, August 16.

I plan to join him for the hike and celebration because it's quite an accomplishment. I know, because after 7 long years and a lot of blood, sweat (a tremendous amount of sweat), tears and other bodily fluids, I became a 46er in September, 2005. Milt helped me quite a bit to reach that goal, joining me for some really long, tough hikes, including Panther, Santanoni, Seward, Donaldson, Emmons and the descent of Redfield.

I met Milt and his son Dwight on top of Redfield. I had climbed up the mountain with my son Jon, my friend Chili Willie and his son Adam. I went up at my usually slow, plodding pace. My companions noted that every time we (I) stopped to rest, we caught up with the party ahead of us. They deduced, correctly, that at least one person in that party was probably climbing at the same pace as I was, which turned out to be correct.

My companions, of course, reached the top of Redfield before I did, and started talking to the party ahead of us. When I reached the top, they informed me that they had engineered a swap - they were taking the Assistant Scoutmaster from the other group, the faster hiker, and I would be joining Milt - the person hiking more or less at my pace - and his son Dwight. The faster hikers in my party wanted to climb down Redfield and then up and down Cliff, the next mountain over, and they knew they couldn't get that done before sundown with me in the group. They couldn't leave me there by myself, so they swapped me for the faster hiker. Kind of like a winning baseball team at the trade deadline, going out and getting a player to help them get over the top, so to speak. And no one had to clear waivers.

By the way, Dwight was perfectly capable of staying with the faster hikers, but he chose to stay with his dad. Turns out Dwight was going to spend the next 5 days out in the mountains by himself, while Milt was going to go home at the end of the hike, so he wanted to spend a little more time with his dad.

So, that's how I met Milt and Dwight. The hike down was fun - it's great to hike with people who go at your rate. Lots of good conversation, and no guilt about hiking too slowly and holding up the progress of the faster hikers.

I haven't been in the mountains in a couple of years, and although I have been biking and swimming and jogging, none of those are really climbing muscles. So, in preparation for joining Milt in two weeks, I have started doing the stairs at work - 24 flights Tuesday, and 32 flights yesterday, taken 16 flights at a time. Not exactly the 3,000 feet I'll have to do to get up Marcy, but at least my legs should be in good enough shape so that I can keep up with Milt - and so that he won't be tempted to engineer a swap of his own.

See you out there.

Walking to China II - NY Times Style

2008-07-31T04:03:00.001-07:00

A little while ago in an entry entitled "Walking to China", I described a mini adventure guided by my son Jon, wherein we seemingly left this country and walked into Asia. Turns out, of course, that the exotic sights, sounds, smells and tastes we experienced were just a short stroll over the bridge from Shea Stadium into Flushing. While the title of the blog was mis-stated, the wonders we found definitely were not.

Recently, the New York Times did a piece called, Let the Meals Begin: Finding Beijing in Flushing which described in far more vivid detail the fascinating neighborhood Jon introduced us to.

Click the link above and read about it yourself. Or even better, the next time you are in the area of Shea Stadium - or Citi Field if you go next year - check it out yourself. If you are even slightly a fan of Asian food or culture, you will be delighted that you did.

See you out there.

Pinebush Triathlon 2008: A "Funner " Takes It All In

2008-07-15T17:08:00.000-07:00

This year, due to a still healing stress fracture of the left foot, I attended the Pinebush Tri as a spectator, not a participant. Being social, I went to cheer on a lot of my friends, team mates and training partners who were competing, and to visit with a bunch more who were were volunteering. But mostly I went to support and cheer for my friend Donna, and to document this, her very first outdoor triathlon. I would have done this any way, but I felt a little guilty because I'm the one who talked her into this and now I wasn't even participating.

How did she do? I'll get back to that later. (Hint - she made it)

Coach Lisa and Donna

For more pictures go here and here.

I noticed a few differences between me as "spectator" and and me as "competitor." First, I slept the entire night before the tri. Second, a lot easier and quicker getting out of the house in the morning when the only things on my "list" were car keys and camera, as opposed to - well, you know. Didn't have to leave the house until just before 7 am, either, positively slothful by tri standards.

Donna, on the other hand, was there at 6 AM, and consequently had the primo spot in the bike racks, and no wait at all for her trip to the women's room, no small thing when you're contending with coffee, nerves and a triathlon suit! She was first in line for her chip, too. Only bad thing about this is that she arrived 30 minutes before the chips did!

Donna's Primo Bike Spot - Note Purple Milk Crate!

Chips Ahoy!

While I waited for her to wait for her chip, I had plenty of time to walk around, take pictures, starting with a picture of her, and talk to the amazingly large number of people I knew. Here's what I learned: a triathlon is not comprised so much of swimming, biking and running as it is of the emotions and stories and triumphs of the people participating.

Tammie - I met Tammie and her husband Bob two years ago while I was training for my first Pinebush. Excellent athletes and very nice people, they would ride their bikes the 5 miles or so out to Voorheesville from downtown Albany, train with us, and then ride home. At their suggestion, I replaced my really uncomfortable bike seat with a much better one, and both me and my backside are thankful for that.

This year, neither Tammie nor Bob were competing: they were here to cheer for their son Robert, aged 12, who was doing his first tri. A year of so ago, Bob stopped growing. It took a while before they discovered he was allergic to gluten and were able to begin treating it. There are few things more painful for a parent than knowing your your child is sick and not knowing why. I know this first hand.

Now he was well and growing. He had started running in the fall - I think I was in the first 5K he did - and now he was ready to tackle the PB. Here's something else I can tell you - there is no one more anxious or intensely proud than the mother of a young athlete.

I stood next to her at the finish line of the swim: "How did he do?"

Tammie, beaming, "He finished in under 7 minutes, his first swim competiton! Who knew?"

The Swim - Start to Finish

The Swim - View from the Finish Line Looking Back

Later, in the parking lot of the Guilderland Y, after the race: "How did Robert do?"

Tammie, glowing, "1:16, for his first tri!"

She was incredibly happy and proud - ah, if I could only bottle that.

Dorie - I met Dorie two years ago, too, while I was in Coach Andrea's class and training for the tri. Although she competed, she was also helping Andrea with the class. She was good at it, too. Over the next two years, I rode and ran with Dorie, and sometimes with her husband, Paul. I remember the night she first got clipless pedals for her new road bike, and how proud she was that she made it all the way from the Downtube to her home in Albany without falling.

Been a rough couple of months for Dorie: a friend drowned this summer; she had been sick for a week; and most devastating of all, very recently, they had a serious fire at their house. They almost lost their dogs, their "children." (Note - Dorie says the dogs are doing fine and recovering nicely)

Obviously, she had not had the time or inclination to do much training and was not going to compete. Her friends encouraged her, and helped her out by cleaning up her gear and equipment. She decided to give it a go, to not worry about time or performance, and on Sunday morning, there she was. It was really good to see her.

How did she do? Here's a bit in her own words, from an email she sent to us after the race:

"My swim time was about the same as in 2006, but the difference was that I felt good at the end and ready to go. My mother has never seen me race and when I looked up at shore I got a quick glimpse of her waving. What a feeling after what we had all been through this week!"

and
"As I returned to the apartments it starts to rain. A nice, fine, cool rain. It felt wonderful, not like 2006 when it was so hot I couldn’t breathe. There are three people ahead of me walking. I catch up to them as we get to the bottom of the hill. There are no spectators on the hill. I yell to them that we are going to have to cheer ourselves up the hill and they all yell encouraging words to each other and all start running. We get ½ way up the hill and it is starting to really rain. My husband and my friends are huddled under a tree yelling there lungs out for me. At the top of the hill, my mother and another friend are under an umbrella yelling as I round the corner. I’m sprinting now and I see Will’s 5 year old twins and his wife, cheering me on. They are completed soaked.

I finish the race but forget to stop my watch. When I finally look at it, it says 1:29: 14. I didn’t think that I could do it in under 1:30 without really trying. I can’t wait to see the official times as I must have been in better condition than I thought. It was great to see you all. Donna, I’m sorry that I missed you. (I was standing on line for the ladies room- who told those other women where it was?)

I really needed this distraction. Thanks again."

So, Tom ,in answer to your question, "Why do we tri?" for Dorie, the answer might be, "As an affirmation of life!"

Donna - 5 years ago, Donna, a smoker at the time, decided to walk in the Corporate Challenge. We started out together, but then a funny thing happened - she started running. She would stop and catch her breath, and then she would run some more. Did that for the whole 3.5 miles. Two weeks later she entered the Freihoffers. A year later she could run a whole 5K without stopping and she did that a lot. Did the Lake Placid Half Marathon last June, too, in a very respectable time.

This year she had competed in 10 5K's before the end of April, and a 4 mile snow shoe race, and a trail race through the woods in the rain. And this doesn't count the training runs, or the Thursday night fun runs with the Albany Running Exchange.

Then I talked her into an indoor mini-tri. As expected, she destroyed me in the run part - no surprise there. But she also edged me out on the stationary bike - my strongest event! Hey - I kicked her butt in the water, though (but not by much) I told her she looked like Stevie Wonder when she swam, head swinging back and forth. So she took lessons and learned bi-lateral breathing.

Then I talked her into the Pinebush. So, she joined the Saturday morning tri-clionic at the Guilderland Y. And began going to the Wednesday night clinics at the Bethlehem Y.

Oh, and she also turned 50.

On Sunday, in her very first ever outdoor tri, she placed first in her age group! In typical unassuming humble Donna fashion though, we left the Y before the ceremonies to go back to the lake to get her stuff, because she was certain she hadn't won anything. It wasn't until Monday morning when she got a call from our friend Carol that she learned she had taken a first, and Carol brought her the ribbon and medal to prove it.

Tri = Swim, Bike Run - Swim Again?

I've got pictures documenting the performance of this remarkable woman (and of a lot of some other really neat people, too). Check them out here and here.

See you out there.

PS Ever wonder what happens to the DNF's?

Magic Shave

2008-06-30T14:52:00.000-07:00

I saw a guy shaving in the locker room at the Y last week. Nothing unusual about that, lots of guys shave there. In fact, the bathroom area in the locker room is equipped with 3 sinks, a wall to wall mirror and even a built in hair dryer, all supporting male grooming. But, this guy was shaving with a paring knife.

He was a young black man, maybe in his twenties. He was stocky and shorter than me, maybe 5'9", looked like he could have played nose guard on his high school football team, but was now a bit softer and rounder. And he was definitely using a paring knife. I know because I glanced over at him twice, since I couldn't believe what my eyes registered the first time. The knife had a brown handle, and a rounded tip. My mind wanted to make it into a straight razor, as that would have been unusual but within my realm of experience, but my confirming glance ruled that out.

He was using shave cream, but there was something funny about that, too. The puddles that lay in the sink weren't white, but shades of gray, almost running to blue, with dark flecks in them. The dark flecks I understood to be the remnants of his beard, but the other colors I didn't understand at all - the cream appeared white on his face.

He returned my second glance, and I didn't look over again, not even obliquely, or in the mirror. Three things darted through my mind.

"That knife must be really sharp!"

"Maybe he can't afford a razor"

And I'm not proud of this but "I hope he's not pissed that I looked over, because I'm a little afraid of a big black guy with a knife."

I left the Y with a story about a strange guy to tell to my friends and family, and some material for a blog entry. Thankfully, I did not get around to writing right away, as there was more to the story.

Saturday I went on a "man date" with my friend Rich, over to the Prime Outlets in Lee, MA. I wanted to go to the Rockport outlet store to take advantage of their "buy-two, get one free" deal on shoes. In addition having good prices (and no sales tax in MA on clothes), the Rockport stores also have a good selection of wide shoes for my stubby little feet. I hate shopping, but I was convinced that the worn down heels on my shoes had contributed to the stress fracture of my left foot, and I wanted to replace them.

On the way back home from our successful shopping, Rich and I got talking about the high cost of everything, including razor blades, especially the Gillette Platinum Plus blades - over $10 for 4 blades, and that's at the new Super Walmart in Albany, with a $2 off coupon. This lead me to my tale of the strange guy shaving in the locker room with a paring knife, causing Rich to blurt out, "Magic Shave!"

Earlier in his career, Rich had worked in an institution, and one of his responsibilities had been to help the residents with their grooming needs. One day, one of the residents sidled up and asked, "You down with Magic Shave?"

Rich was puzzled, until the guy, a black man, explained that he, like many black men had easily irritated, sensitive skin, and that traditional shaving frequently caused bumps on his face. Instead of using a razor and shave cream, he, like they, used Magic Shave a depilatory. Kind of like Nair for the face, I guess, but milder. The product is applied to the face and beard like a traditional shave cream. But, after it's been on the face for a while, the hairs dissolve, and the residue is gently scraped off with a dull instrument - like a paring knife. One of the more popular types of cream is blue, which could certainly look gray if it were mixed with stubble and sitting in the bottom of a sink.

Thus, at 59, I learn that I am not as cosmopolitan as I would like to think, and that I am not free of bigotry as I would like to imagine. A little humiliating, for sure, but at least I got a blog entry out of it.

See you out there.

Tattoo: Tin Man for a Tinman

2008-06-22T06:57:00.000-07:00

"Schubin, you have any tattoos?" This was my friend Kevin.

"No. I've thought about it but every time I mention it, I get too much flack at home:
'How do you know that the needles are clean? How can you be sure they don't double dip in the ink? Suppose you're wrong?' "Why? You thinking of getting a tattoo?"

"Yeah, I want to get a Tin Man tattooed on my butt."

Kevin is a Tinman
and has done this event 4 or 5 times. He's pretty good, too - did a 6:27 or so last time out.

As you might imagine, he's wiry - almost skinny. I told him it would have to be a very little Tin Man if it was going to fit on his scrawny butt.

I, on the other hand, am not skinny or wiry or lithe or anything remotely connected to thin.

See the picture below, which was taken at the Cazenovia Tri a couple of years ago. See if you can tell which one is Kevin and which one is me.

I'm Going to Put the tattoo Right About Here!

I told Kevin that I, on the other hand (or cheek), could have the Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow, the Wizard, and all of the Munchkins tattooed on my butt.

Not Dorothy or Glinda or the Wicked Witch though. I've already got enough women on my butt!

See you out there.

A Break from Running?

2008-06-06T05:12:00.001-07:00

"Yes."

and "Probably."

As in, "Yes,I have not run in the last 5 weeks" and

"I probably have a stress fracture of my left foot."

First, "What's a stress fracture?" Here's a definition from an article about Yao Ming, whose season for the Houston Rockets ended this year with a stress fracture:

"The typical stress fracture results from an accumulation of stress on the bone that exceeds the bone's ability to heal that stress.

The bone then develops microscopic cracks that go on to yield a complete crack."

Basketball's big men, who do a lot of running and jumping on hard floors, are often prone to stress fractures. Bill Walton, the former UCLA and NBA star, and current TV commentator, is a prominent example.

Army recruits who are suddenly called on to do a lot of marching, and runners who dramatically ramp up their mileage, are other common examples.

I guess I fall in the latter category. Because I really wanted to become a better runner this year, I had been running very regularly, trying for 3 times a week. I was able to go about 2.2 miles on my LSD runs without stopping, usually running outbound, and walking or walk and running inbound, so the whole workout was around 4 miles. I felt pretty good about that, too, since I have never been able to run that long without stopping in my entire adult life.

The thing about LSD runs is that you are only supposed to do them once a week, and the goal is is gradually increase the distance run during each session - gradually meaning no more than a 10% increase per week. But, I felt good, and being a typical Type A, I began doing that distance during each workout. In addition, I began adding bursts into the inbound portion of my LSD's, and I began running up the hills. Hey - if some is good, more is better! The final ingredient? My running shoes were over a year and a half old. The recommendation for runners - especially for large runners like me - is to get new shoes at least every 6 months.

In one of my earlier posts, "DNS" I mention that my foot hurt while running, and that I reluctantly decided to skip a sprint tri and a road race. What I didn't own up to is what finally got me to go to the doctor. The day after my last running workout, I went for a walk on the bike path along the river - and just that easy walk caused burning pain on the top of my left foot.

My doctor listened to what was going on, and sent me down the hall for an xray. Xrays are not conclusive for stress fractures of the small bones in the feet, but this one showed a "callus" which is often an indication of a fracture which has begun to heal. After seeing this, he requested an MRI, which is more definitive. It is also more expensive, so I had to get pre-authorization from my insurance company before I got it done.

Two days after the MRI, Dr. Arnold got the results from the imaging lab, which he discussed with me over the phone. The report had a lot of medical terms - "edema of the bone marrow" is one I remember - that strongly indicated a stress fracture, but were not 100% conclusive. The imaging guy suggested that I go for a CT scan.

Kip and I talked it over - he is a really practical guy and I like him a lot. The discussion went something like this:

"Does the foot feel better since you stopped running?"

"Yes. And I did 35 minutes on the elliptical last night, and it's ok today"

"I don't see any need for a CT scan at this time. I suggest you continue not running on it. You can bike and swim and use the elliptical as long as they don't hurt your foot. Call me if it doesn't continue to improve."

"OK. Suppose it doesn't get better?"

"I will probably refer you to a foot doctor."

So, that's where we are. I must have gotten addicted to the running because I've been feeling pretty funky since I haven't been getting my fixes. Haven't felt too motivated to do any biking or swimming either. Got a lot of "Why me?" and "It's not fair!" stuff going on, too.

I'm not a total slug, though. I have continued to walk during lunch a couple of times a week - the company and walking up the hills are both good for me. And there are always chores to complete around the house - hey, you get 300 Fit Points for pushing the lawnmower for an hour. I hit the weights last weekend for the first time in 6 months, too, and I've made an appointment to see one of the coaches at the Y to make sure my form is good. Best of all, last night was Swim Night and even though I missed the last two weeks, and wasn't exactly Michael Phelps in the water, I did ok.

The Pinebush is coming up in 5 weeks, and I am registered. If my foot heals and I can start to run again in a couple of weeks, great. If not, I can still train for the bike and swim, and I can always walk the 3.25 miles. Given my blazing foot speed, there's not that much difference between me running and me walking, anyway. Sounds like a plan.

See you out there - I promise.

Perhaps I Should Roll the Bottoms of my Trousers

2008-05-30T14:45:00.000-07:00

Has to happen at some time, I guess. For me, the first time was Memorial Day at Bob's house.

It was the kind of day you pray for on the unofficial start of summer - clear and cloudless skies, with the sun pushing the temperature close to 80 degrees. A perfect day for the pool, and Bob has a great one in the backyard of his house, which is located in a suburb a few miles north of Chicago. There would be grilling and beer drinking later, of course, but first, we had to earn our calories through vigorous exercise and game playing. At Bob's house, the game of choice was Full Contact Swimming Pool Basketball.

The players were me; Bob, aged 53 - a decent athlete when he was younger, but the recent recipient of an artificial knee and the body of a consultant who gets most of his exercise getting off and on planes; his son Tim, aged 14, all arms and legs, long and lithe, a runner and high jumper and a veteran of the 7th grade basketball team; Mike, aged 12, short and solid, built like a fire plug, personable and engaging, shaking hands with people and introducing himself since he was 3, and a dead ringer for Bob; Matthew, aged 10, smallish and copper haired, the "baby" of the family and great friends with Mike; and Jon, my son, aged 24, 6'1", 185 - not a gym rat, but a consistent 9 minute miler on the treadmill, a 46er, and a citizen of the world - seeing much of it on foot, carrying a backpack and pulling a giant wheeled suitcase.

The hoop was mounted on a three foot pole, embedded in the side of the pool, near the shallow end. We play 3 on 3: me, Bob and Matthew against Jon, Tim and Mike. Ball hits the rim on a shot - clear it past the flower pot located midway on the shallow end. After a basket, losers get the ball and take it in - but not before the ball is handed to an opposition player, "checked" and handed back. Simple, right?

First play, I have the ball, check it with Tim, and immediately pass to Mike, who is not on my team. He kicks it in to Jon, who jams it home. Oops. Next play, Bob takes it out, and passes to me. Matthew is camped on the steps in the corner to the left of the basket - Bob says he has a great shot from there. I swing the ball to that side and pass to Matthew, except Tim cuts in front, snags the ball, drive to the hoop and lays it in. Oops.

After the check, I take the ball in, and hit Bob with a pass. He gets a quick shot off and swish, we score.

Mike takes the ball out and passes it to me for the "check" I don't check anything and immediately give it back to him, failing to note that Bob has come up, too. There is no one guarding Tim, which Mike notes, hitting him with a pass, leading to another easy score. Oops.

Next time, Bob brings the ball in. He passes to Matthew, but the ball glances off his hand, out of the pool. He and Mike both jump out of the pool and race to the ball. Mike grabs it flips to Tim and he bangs it home.

Bob says, "On any balls out of the pool who ever gets it, keeps it." Oops.

Bob brings it in and after the check, passes to me. I see Matthew open in the corner, and pass it to him. Only Tim out of my vision to my left, suckers me. He anticipates the pass, takes a quick step, throws out a long arm, intercepts the ball, sets and shoots. Nothing but net. Oops.

Bob takes it in and passes to me. I see Mike in the corner, but this time I also know Tim is off to the left. I fake a pass, and when Tim steps in this time, I pivot back towards Bob and, back to Tim, I hook the ball up and backwards, over my head and over Tim. Only Tim is quick and he recovers, jumps and intercepts, again sinking his shot. Matthew says, "Uncle Ron is terrible, does he have to be on our team?" Oops.

The ball goes out of the pool again on the next play and Tim goes for it. Only this time, Bob grabs him from behind and drags him back into the pool. I begin to understand the "full contact" part. The ball skitters toward the deep end and Bob goes for it. Jon tackles him and wrestles him for the ball. I go to Bob's aid, and grab Jon's arms to steal the ball - only I can't budge him. I manage to slide my hand under the inside of his hand, leveraging his thumb away, just like they teach you in life saving, and I pry the ball loose. I move to the basket and Jon jumps on me - I can barely move him. I struggle to the basket and start to go up, but he reaches over me and slaps my arm down and the ball loose. There isn't anything I can do about it.

So it goes. Tim shoots over me, goes around me and generally scores at will. Every time I touch the ball Jon is on me, and it's 50-50 as top whether I will manage to pass it off to Bob or lose possession - scoring is not an option. If I do get an open shot, it clanks, falls short or slides out of the pool.

The game ends with Matthew crying because Mike has grabbed him in the deeper end of the pool - he doesn't swim well at all and is scared. The rule had been "No tackling Matthew" but Mike got caught up in the spirit of combat and went for him. (The crying jag continues for a long while, because Matthew, no fool, knows he is supposed to get to his homework right after the game, and he figures out that this is a great diversion.) Mike had to stop because he has scraped his big toe on the rough bottom of the pool and is bleeding - he knew better but had forgotten to wear his water shoes. Jon hobbled off because he had twisted the muscles on the back of his leg in one of the tussles.

Me? I was beat - and beat up. I still have a bruise the size of a half dollar on my left bicep.

Later, in the hot tub, Tim mentions he had gotten his fingers broken last year in a game against one of the people from Bob's firm. Seems the guy was 6' 6" and like to camp under the basket. Someone lobbed him the ball and he slammed it in for a score, his forearm coming forcibly down on Tim's fingers - Tim had gotten into position for the block, ignoring the considerable size and mass disadvantage. To Tim, it was just an "oh, well."

Later still Tim and I shot hoops at the real basket in the driveway. Tim scored often. It took me 30 attempts top sink one hook shot from the top of the key- and my shoulder felt like it was going to fall off when I was done.

I tried one more thing - a trick shot I used to make regularly in P I G games - I wedged the ball between my palm and forearm and brought my arm straight up in front of my body, snapping my wrist upwards to release the ball towards the basket. Only, I couldn't get my arm above my shoulder and the ball rocketed out directly into the neighbor's hedges.

When I reflected on my performance later over a bottle of a bottle of Spotted Cow Ale from Wisconsin - I apparently could still raise my arm high enough to get the bottle to my mouth - I remembered that I could not move or think fast enough to fool a 14 year-old, could not muster enough strength to out muscle my 24 year old son, couldn't remember the simplest rules or recognize my own team mates, couldn't sink a hook shot I used to make with ease, and that these simple things caused my body to ache.

Until this day, I felt I was doing all right. I am a triathlete, I train and compete regularly, complete every competition I start and have never finished last.

But today, for the first time, I felt old.

Thus, the title of today's entry. It's from a poem by T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock" and the lines I was reminded of go like this:

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

I know how he felt.

See you out there - maybe......

Walking to China

2008-05-29T15:50:00.001-07:00

We parked the car at 5 pm and began walking east, away from the bay. The sun was still high and warm enough on our backs as we walked to force a sweat. The road we walked paralleled the railroad tracks, elevated, aged, paint flaking off in chunks. The road rose as we started over the bridge, and the walking was a bit harder. To our left, and beneath us, the cars moved quickly along the good highway, but the water in the drainage ditch bordering it was brown and brackish. A few people passed us as we moved along, some walking, some on beat-up bikes. They said nothing.

We could see debris beneath us, too, mostly old tires or broken auto parts. The rusted chain link fences we passed were topped with curling razor wires, protecting the cars within, obviously valuable commodities. The signs atop the buildings were all written in characters, but the businesses were certainly related to the cars housed there, tire shops maybe, or repair shops.

We passed an open lot. The road at the rear lead to a large 3 story building, similar in size and shape to a warehouse, but from the evidence of the many signs and opening, housing multiple shops and stores. I pointed it out, but Jon said, "We're not going there. Keep walking straight."

I did, and within a block we came to a busy street, loaded with cars and bikes and people. We crossed, walked one more block and turned the corner onto a new street and into a different world. Its side were lined with shops, each one small, but packed with goods, which spilled out into street displays. Strange plants, fruits, herbs, vegetables. I recognized only a few.

The stores, most of them, were unfamiliar, and their signs were all in characters, too. I recognized a few by their wares - a florist, a bakery. Some were instantly familiar - McDonalds and Starbucks, their trademarks and color schemes recognizable anywhere in the world, even though their signs and menus were, of course, written in characters.

Outside some of the shops, old women stood with stacks of menus, also written in characters, handing them to each passerby, except us. We, obviously, were not from around those parts. Jon however, reached for some of these menus, and accepted them from the somewhat puzzled distributors. He speaks, reads and writes Mandarin.

The sidewalks were teaming with people, hundreds, thousands, shoulder to shoulder, in both directions somehow sliding past each other. At 6'1" with long legs and a familiarity and ease with the crowds, Jon moved easily and quickly through them, getting ahead of Kiera and me. A full head taller than most of the people around him, his height, pale skin and red hair made him easy to see. Kiera moved to catch up, but still trailed him. I lagged them both, a familiar position for me, but could pick out Kiera's orange shirt just ahead of me, and Jon's red hair, farther ahead.

He crossed another street, stopped and turned to us.

"Here it is" he said. "The 100 stalls of mystery!"

He turned to an open door, and went down a flight of stairs. The smells of sesame oil and frying shrimp instantly identified this as a food court, Chinese style. A dozen or so small stall, each 12 x 12 or so, lined the hallway. Each had a table or three, and each had a different cuisine.

Jon sat us at the first table in the stall on the left, and stood to study the menu. He summoned the owner and she came over to him and discussed the menu with him - in Mandarin. He asked about a few things, pointed to some others, and then expressed disappointment.

He turned to us and said, "They are out of chicken."

He quickly turned back to her and placed an order for food, got us three waters for the table, and then slipped down the hallway and disappeared. He reappeared a few minutes later and said, "I order some more food from another stall."

We drank our waters and talked for a few minutes, until a small Chinese woman came up to him and said in halting English, "They want you over there."

He followed her and soon returned with a rectangular aluminum container with a clear plastic top.

"Cold noodles, with sprouts and cucumber slivers, with a thin vinegar based sauce and a hint of red peppers. And some small waffles of bean curd. The noodles are fat and thick, very authentic and very good. Shaanxi style. Not too much heat."

"The bun is stuffed with shredded lamb and spices, also very good."

And they were very good indeed.

When we finished, the first women, whose table we were sitting at, brought over two dishes for us, and three small bowls of sticky white rice.. She didn't seem to mind that we had started on something from another stall.

"Twice cooked pork, with two kinds of peppers. Green peppers, which are native to South America and not China, and small round Szechuan peppers, like berries, which are. This pork is exellent. A little more heat in this dish."

The second back had squares of what looked like bacon. It was.

"It's the special today," he said.

It was smoky and rich, but a little undercooked for my taste. I had only a few pieces, and wished it had been cooked just bit more.

We ate the twice cooked pork with the white rice, using chop sticks. We ate heartily and finished nearly everything. Except the bacon.

Jon guided us down the hallway and past the other stalls, noting their menus and explaining their specialties.

As we turned back up the hallway, a middle aged Chinese man said something in English to Jon, and neither his voice nor expression was pleasant.

Jon said, "Oh, he's harmless. He just doesn't think non-Chinese should be eating here. Best to just ignore him." Which we did.

We exited the stalls and crossed the street, where we ducked into a bakery. Jon pointed out the softball sized sesame buns, stuffed with red bean paste and said, "I like sesame bun, but I prefer the smaller ones."

He ignored the pastries, and just ordered some cold lemon tea.

By now it was after 6 pm, and we began to head back to meet Pat. We returned the way we came, and soon crossed the bridge and headed down the hill and across the street into the parking lot, to Gate C, where we found Pat, who was early, too. After all, we were very excited about seeing the Mets, and getting to Shea in this the last year of its existence.

That's right - Shea Stadium. We had not crossed into mainland China at all - we had crossed the Roosevelt Avenue bridge, and walked by the El where the 7 train brings Met fans to the ballpark and turned down Main Street to its intersection with 41 Rd, in Flushing, one of the largest China Towns in the world. Much bigger and much more authentic than the famous China Town in Manhattan.

If you are Fitlinxx'ing it, it was a mile and a half, a leisurely 30 minute walk for us - an easy 12 minute jog for Kelly the Quick if she had been with us - that took us from an American institution to the heart of China, and we had our very own personal guide with us. Very cool experience, indeed.

The Mets, by the way, came from a run down in the bottom of the 12th, and won on a walk off two-run double by Fernando Tatis - that was pretty cool, too.

See you out there.

Funner

2008-05-14T17:30:00.000-07:00

I went over to The Crossings in Colonie last Wednesday nite to watch my friends Donna and Deanne and Jen M. run in the Craig Ryder 2nd Memorial 5K Run, and to cheer them on.

I wasn't running because my foot was still bothering me. I knew about the race because Deanne told me about it - she tells me about all the races that are coming up. In fact, if I don't get at least 3 emails from Deanne a week about this 5K or that road run, I would feel lost. She runs in most of them, too. For example, a couple of weeks ago, she did a 5K on Friday nite in Washington Park (23:56) at 6 PM, then a 10K on the bike path along the Hudson River at 8:30 AM the next morning (50:14) and then ran a 5K with Jen M the same morning at 10 AM! I think she would have run on Sunday, too, except they did a little too much celebrating of Jen's birthday on Saturday nite! Ah, Sweet Bird of Youth....

Anyway, I no sooner got to the The Crossing when I heard some familiar voices - Jess and Christina from my swim class at the Guilderland Y were there, along with Marilyn, also from the Y.

Jess - "Are you running?"

Me - "No - my foot still hurts."

Jess - "So you're a funner."

Me - " ? "

Jess - " A funner. You're not a runner, so you're just here for fun - a funner."

Turns out she was even more right than I thought. Everywhere I turned, I found people I knew, and of course, I talked with all of them.

Donna and Deanne and Jen M, were there, and Donna's brother Rick and his daughter Cheyenne.

And Sara P from work and her boy friend, Tom. Turns out Tom had run the Boston Marathon, too - pretty good runner - he was 9 minutes ahead of Lance Armstrong at the 30 K mark - I looked it up. I introduced Sara to a lot of the people I knew there. More on Sara and Tom later.

I was pleased to see my good friend Kelly there. She was with Roxanne, also from the Y.

Greg, who I met at the dinner the night before the Spring Runoff, was there.

And then, Out of the Blue of the Western Sky (or some sky), Captain Mike! He had just gotten into the Albany Airport from his week of pilot duty - just gotten back from San Jose, and he had driven the quick two miles over from the airport.

"Great to see you! I must know more than a dozen people here!"

"Me, too. The Albany Running Exchange, is organizing the race, and I came over to see my buds."

Kind of a funny start to the race at 6 PM. The walkers got off, no problem. But, the runners got off to a false start - all of them. I guess the starter was trying to tell everyone how he was going to start the race - only they all thought it was the start, so off them went. And back they came, and did it again. (Not without a few muttered unkind words among the group - I don't even know what some of those words mean!)

The first mile took them out of the park and then back in, so I walked over to the clock at the one mile mark and waited for them. Five minutes later, Sara's boyfriend Tom blazed back into the park, with Chris from OSC right behind him.

Standing all alone, right across the path from the clock so I had a good view of the runners as they crossed the bridge and came back into the park, I cheered loudly for everyone I knew and most the ones I didn't know. Some of the walkers who were now starting to appear wanted to know why I wasn't cheering for them - well, I didn't know any of them, but what the hay, I cheered for them, too.

I pretty much cheered for 9 minutes straight, until the 14 minute mark, when a lady came jogging by with her dog - and the dog was definitely not a puppy! At that point I really wished I had been in the race - I just know I could have beaten that dog! More on the lady and the dog later.

As soon as they went by, I hurried over to the start line, because I was pretty sure the boys were going to be appearing any minute. Sure enough, at the 16 minute mark, I could see Tom round the corner and head onto the start of the grass chute - the finishing two or three hundred yards were all on grass, with ropes and pennants defining the borders. Tom finished under 17 minutes and Chris shortly thereafter.

Then I could see the first woman - and it was my friend Christina. I gave her my best cheers and I could see her smile as she turned for home.

Christina, First Place - Women

And then my friend Kelly was there, running in 5th. She smiled, too.

Kelly, Fifth Place - Women

9 seconds behind her, Jess whipped through the chute.

Then Deanne, and Sara, and Donna and Jen and Marilyn. I cheered wildly for each one of them by name.

Jen M, Chris - Second Place, Men, Deanne

Finally the lady and the dog turned the corner and headed down the chute. She raised her arms in triumph and the crown roared. Wait - she wasn't raising her hands in triumph - she was raising them to show us the doggy bag! Damn, I knew for sure at that point that I could have beaten that dog to the finish.

I was also thinking, "I'm so slow, I never bring s**t home from a race - if only I could find a dog to bring with me, that would never be true again!"

Captain Mike stayed almost to the end, cheering on all his friends, until his cell phone rang, and he knew he was busted. Sure enough, someone wanted to know why he wasn't home yet. So, he high tailed it, muttering something like "At least I'm not out at some bar drinking beer..."

I had a great time talking with all my friends after the race. Almost every one of them complained about running over the uneven turf while they chowed down on post race vittles.

I didn't eat any of the bananas or bagels though - hadn't earned them. Wait - I never eat any of the bananas or bagels after a race.

I talked with Sara and Tom after the race, too. I asked Tom what his last name was and he told me. Then he asked if my son was Jon and if he had gone to Tufts. Turns out that Tom has played on a little league team I had managed a dozen or so years ago. He told he had just graduated and was off to Temple for graduate work. We talked about a few people we knew in common, and I asked him about some other Colonie kids I knew who had gone to the same school.

Sara listened to this, and then asked me, "Do you know everyone?"

No - but I know a lot of great people, and many of them were at this race. I had a terrific time - funner, indeed.

See you out there.

Fallen

2008-05-05T17:23:00.000-07:00

I watched "Once" on DVD Saturday night. This sad and sweet indie movie is a tale of love lost, love unfulfilled, and perhaps, love regained. You may know it for "Falling Slowly",the Academy Award winning song, sung by its leads, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. If you don't know the movie or the song, take a minute,click the link, and listen to "Guy" and "Girl" on YouTube - it will help you understand why I'm a fallen man - totally in love with the movie, the leads and the music.

Sometimes I have such vivid dreams that I wake up so emotionally committed to the dream that I move through the day in a "dream hangover", knowing, rationally, that the emotions are not real, but feeling that they are, that they must be. All Sunday I moved through the waking dreamscape of Dublin in my mind, and knew - just knew - that these were real people, that they were just outside the fame of my vision. I sensed them.

Is there anything more evocative than music? As soon as the movie was ended, as soon as I watched the extra features so I could see more of these extraordinary people, I went to the ITunes store, found the soundtrack, downloaded it and then copied it into my IPod. Now I could hear them, and see them in my mind's eye, while I was at the computer, while I was in the car, and even while I was at the Y, doing penance on the stationary bike. (It's a surprise to those of you who know me that I can be a little intense with things?)

Here's the thing: though "Falling Slowly" is melancholy and wistful and haunting, not all the songs are. In fact, I pedaled furiously to "When Your Mind's Made Up", and especially to "Gold", - I love the way the IPOd lets you hit the back button on the scroll wheel and repeat songs. There are a couple of other songs on the soundtrack that are up tempo, too, and make for good riding and maybe good running.

So, there's the connection, the stretch, between this movie and the general subject of this blog - some of the songs from the soundtrack of "Once" are good workout songs.

But here's my true confession - I wrote about it because I love this movie and I wanted to share it with you. Maybe you will love it too. And that's reason enough.

See you out there.

DNS or "The Game's Afoot!"

2008-05-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

For the first time ever - well,since I started doing tri's and 5K's two years ago - I entered an event and did not compete: DNS = Did Not Start (or Didn't Show Up, as one of my children termed it.)

Why? 3 reasons. First and best, my left foot hurts. It started bothering me a couple of weeks ago while I was running. It bothered me during the Spring Runoff and was really tender after my last training run. It's on the top, inside of my left foot, and according to what I found on the various internet sites - yes, I'm one of those - if I'm lucky, it's just tendinitis and will heal with some time off. If I'm not - it's a stress fracture of one of the metatarsals.

I was still going to compete in the Indoor/Outdoor Sprint Tri at the Southern Saratoga Y. After all, I had paid the entry fee ( a stiff $45! for Y members) and I was pretty sure I could tough it out. Kathy pointed out the inherent stupidity of this approach, and, uncharacteristically, I listened.

The other two reasons? It was cold and looked like rain, and I didn't feel like I had trained enough on the bike. Truth be told, if my foot had felt ok, they wouldn't have mattered. After all, the same two things were true last year and I started and completed that tri.

So, I will lay off the running for a while and see how it feels. What the hell, I needed more bike time anyway.

See you out there (but it looks like it will just be on the bike for a couple of weeks!)

Nattering Nabobs of Negativity

2008-05-02T11:21:00.000-07:00

You'd think that after running a PR on Saturday that I would be energized and fired up, ready to surge ahead. Instead, I was tired, I slumped, had almost no energy, and listened to those NNN's in my head for three days. They almost had me convinced that I was a fraud, that I couldn't run, didn't want to run, didn't want to do any exercise at all. 5K's and triathlons were beyond my puny and feeble abilities. I was lazy, but what did it matter because I was no good any way. And I was fat - let's not forget fat.

A day off Monday became an off day and slid into Tuesday. I declined a noon time run because it was cloudy and cold - only in the high 40's. Never mind that I started running outside in January in the 20's - besides, that wasn't the real "me". Tuesday became woe-is-me Wednesday. I planned a bike ride for Wednesday night - but I really wasn't going to go. What difference did it make?

Except I asked Donna if she wanted to go and she did - she's training for the Pinebush this year and she was anxious to get off the stationary bike and outside on a real bike. So I met her on the bike path at 6 PM and we rode. And it was good. Not great - it my first time of the season. But I went up Blatnick Hill, didn't die and kept going. And I geared up Knolls Atomic Hill in 2:1 and was suitably impressed with myself for such an early in the season ride.

We went 5 miles out and 5 miles back and I felt pretty damn good when we were done.

At noon on Thursday, Donna went with me and I ran two miles along the river without stopping, and jogged a chunk on the way back, including the hills.

On Thursday night, it was back to the Y and the ministrations of Coach Aaron. That felt pretty good, too.

In other words, I took "The Cure" and the demons left me.

Frank Hu, epidemiologist at the Harvard School of Public Health, had this to say in the Harvard Magazine, "The single thing that comes close to a magic bullet, in terms of its strong and universal benefits, is exercise."

I'll vouch for that.

See you out there.

St John's St Ann's Spring Runoff 5K

2008-04-26T08:47:00.000-07:00

A flat, out and back 5K, on the river, on my "home course", the course I run twice per week, during lunch.

This was the Spring Runoff, and was a benefit for the St John's St Ann's Community Outreach Center in Albany's Southend. Our registration fee included a pasta dinner Friday evening and it was terrific - the food was donated by D'Raymond's Restaurant, and the food was delicious. Included a glass of wine, coffee and homemade dessert, too - not what I expected at all.

Good news - PR! Bad news - still didn't break 37:10, and 12 minute miles.

Time was 37:30, and rate was 12:06.

Used my IPOD, and listened to Ryan Adam's "Elizabeth, You Were Born to Play that Part" - 7 times. It kept me from going out too fast, and still got me thru the first mile in 11:33, another PR. Hit the turnaround at 18:36, and thought I had a shot at breaking 37, but I fatigued coming back in, with a lot of walking. I figured if I made it back to the boat launch at 30 flat, I had a real shot at breaking 37, since I had gone out in 7 minutes, but I was off by 33 seconds and while I came back in 7 minutes, I was too tired to make up any time. Too much walking, not enough kicking.

Oh, well - I'll just blame the wind, which was stiff and from the south today, and in our faces all the way home. It's usually from the northwest, so it's in my face going out and at my back coming home. So, I'll blame the wind for my 20 seconds. (Couldn't have been me, right?)

There was a 10K which went off at 8:30, and my swimming buddy Sky Pilot Mike ran that in a little over 50 minutes. I didn't recognize him, even though I was standing right on the edge of the path as he went by - because we were cheering for Deanne - who was right behind him. They don't know each other , but he followed her all the way out and back, catching her with a little ways to go. Small world. We introduced them after the race.

Pretty impressive for Deanne - she chopped about 18 minutes off the 10K she ran 2 weeks ago. Especially impressive since she ran a 23:56 5K just last evening. And then she turned around and ran the 5K with Jen M., who had also run the 5K last night. Jen is celebrating her 27th birthday today. Way to go, Jen.

Donna ran a 27 and change 5K today - her 10th race of the young season. She has been a great training partner for me, and there is no way I could have done so well today if she hadn't logged all those miles with me for the last several months.

Amusing story - as I was getting close to the turnaround point, the lead runners began passing me- as usual. I cheer for them, and often let them know how they are doing - first man, first woman, etc. When the second woman went by, I held up two fingers and said "Second Woman!" Well, she had her earphones in and must not have heard me, because she held up the same two fingers and said, "Peace!"

Lessons Learned
The IPOD and slower music really helped. Even though I was nervous before the race, the music calmed me down and I went out at a comfortable pace, yet still did a PR first mile, running all the way. Hopefully when I get stronger and faster I will need to choose some more up tempo songs to run to - but I'm not there yet.

I need to keep training, to get stronger. I'm up to 2.2 miles running without stopping in training, usually as part of a 4 mile session. I often include more jogging in the session, maybe as much as another half mile. I usually walk back, but try to run the hills. I just need to keep this up, to improve the distance I can run without stopping and to work on increasing my distance. When my base is better, I will work in more hills and add some speed work.

For now, though, I am reasonably pleased. B+

See you out there.

Boston Marathon 2008 - The View from Mile 18

2008-04-25T11:51:00.001-07:00

We went to Boston - Newton, actually - to see the Boston Marathon and to cheer on Christina, my friend and Stroke Improvement teammate. Both were superb.

For thorough coverage and some terrific pictures, go to Boston.com. For some personal observations and a link to pictures of people who caught my eye from mile 18, read on, or go to the links posted on the right hand side of the blog.

Sunday night, we stayed at the Newton Marriott, a little over a mile from the corner of Washington and Commonwealth Avenues, about 17.5 miles from the start. We walked over to the course, carrying a two folding lawn chairs and a day pack with sandwiches, fruit and water. Turning this corner, the athletes begin to climb the first of the four Newton Hills, culminating 3 miles later with the famous "Heartbreak Hill". My friend tells me the first hill is the toughest. Heartbreak has the reputation, though, because it comes 20 miles into the race and it can break your heart, your quads and your spirit.

I Was Sad Because I Had No Shoes

The wheel chairs started in Hopkinton at 9:25, and the leaders rounded the corner and started the climb at about 10:15. There are two kinds - the traditional grab the wheel and turn chair, and the newer ones with hand cranks and gears. Big controversy in the handicapped racer community, with some of the traditionalists saying the newer chairs are more like bikes, and shouldn't be allowed. Very ironic - exclusion advocated by those who were excluded themselves for so long. If you are interested in a good article from the New York Times which explains this issue, let me know.

The elite women started at 9:35, and they appeared next. Among them was Albany's own Emily Bryans, who finished in under 3 hours. Deanne worked with her at one time and ran with her often, and had introduced me to her at a recent Corporate Challenge, so I felt like I had a small personal connection. She finished in under 3 hours.

Emily Bryans from Albany F106

There were no world class American women in this group, though - they had run the Olympic trials the day before. The race was won by Deena Castor, and included crowd favorite Joan Benoit Samuelson, who finished in 2:49:08, good for 90th place and an American age group record.

Both the women's and men's leaders are preceded by a pace vehicle, electronic timing clock prominently attached to the roof, officers on motorcycles, and tons of press: on bicycles, stuffing a half ton truck, and on electric motor scooters, with a driver, and a camera man, mounted on the back, facing backwards.

Speaking of motorcycles, cops on motorcycles spent a good portion of the day riding close to each side of the course, keeping the spectators back from the road. I guess that was a good thing.

The 4 women leaders were trailed by more women from the lead group, and a smattering of wheel chair racers. One of the lead woman had the men's lead vehicles right on her heels. You can see her, and the other elite racers in my webshots album, Boston Marathon 29008 Leaders and Elite.

Something I noticed about the elite runners - and you can see it in some of the pictures - when they stride, their heels come way off the ground in the back of their bodies - almost up to their butts. For me, each step is a struggle with gravity, and each step is more of a shuffle than a stride - I strive for minimal clearance, just enough to move me forward. Don't know how they do it.

Lead Male Runners Near Mile 19

After the elite runners passed, the street gradually filled up with those who followed, great athletes, but not quite world class. Eventually, the Wave arrived, and the streets were swollen with runners. You can see them in my webshots album Boston Marathon 2008 The Waves.

A very notable runner early in the wave - Lance Armstrong. I was lucky enough to get two pictures of him. (Mike - here's a wider shot - can you see your friend?)

Lance Armstrong and Fellow Runners at Mile 18

Also notable - Team Hoyt - very, very inspirational.

The Hoyts

There were about 14,000 people in the first wave, including my friend Christina. They started just after the elite men went off at 10 am. Each and every runner in this wave had to run a qualifying age-graded time at a sanctioned marathon to get in. To qualify at her age, Christina had to run a sub 3:40, which she did last year in the NYC Marathon.

If I wanted to qualify for next year's race, I would have to run a sub 4 hr marathon.

There were about 12,000 in the second wave, and almost every one of them had to qualify, too. The exception? About 1,400 charity runners, who raised a chunk of money for one of the official charities, including the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training, the Campus School of Boston College, and Dana Farber Institute, all wonderful causes. We cheered for every TNT runner - Kathy's cousin is a survivor and she, Kathy, walked a half marathon last year at Lake Placid and raised over $4500 for the cause; for the Campus School at Boston College Team - Em is a junior at BC; and for the Tufts Team (I don't remember what charity they were running for) - Jon graduated from there a couple of years ago.

The number of entries for the Boston Marathon is limited because it starts in the narrow streets of Hopkinton. This tight limit on entries causes some strange behaviors and even cheating - before the race starts. Great article about that in the New York Times last week, too. Interested? Let me know and I'll send it to you.

Also causes some hostile feeling among those who qualified towards the charity runners - they think the charity runners should be eliminated to open up additional spots for "real" runners. Too bad - the only way I would ever make it into this race would be as a "charity case" - not that I'm even fantasizing about that (well, maybe a little).

Two things struck me about the wave. First, it went on for hours. Second, after looking down the street at the wave for a while, whenever I tried to look across the street, I got vertigo - the runners surging up the street made the road look like it was sliding down the hill. Very odd and unsettling.

Lots of very serious runners with a lot of character in this race - but lots and lots of "characters", too. We saw 3 nuns; 2 angels, complete with halos; an indeterminate super hero, in costume; two young men wearing black spandex briefs and over the calf socks; a band of Korean runners, all wearing the same running outfits, carrying flags at the front and rear of their group,

and chanting while running up the hill;and a group of American women wearing red with US flags atop their baseball hats. And, of course, Elvis.

Elvis

We stayed until the sweep vehicles brought up the rear. We cheered and clapped for all the charity runners and we clapped and cheered by name for every runner who wore a name on his or her body, bib or running outfit. We especially cheered for the back of the packers - you just knew I'd be rooting really hard for them, didn't you?

Back of the Packers - But They Are in the Boston Marathon!

At the end of the day, we felt wonderful and knew we had been part of something very special. We had an internal glow (and an unexpected external one from the unexpected sun) that lasted for well over a day. We will be going back again - count on it.

See you out there.

I Am Inspiration!

2008-04-12T12:09:00.001-07:00

I liked "Serpentine Swimming" - thought it was well written, had an illustrative photo embedded (a first for me), a link to an instructive article. I thought it was a good piece. But I wanted my son's blessing, wanted him to tell me it was good and well written. At 23, Jon has already had two paid internships, reporting for the Scranton Times Tribune and the Wichita Eagle, unpaid positions for the Medford Transcript and Boston's Sampan, and was Managing Editor for the Tuft's Daily. So, I asked.

"Jon - is it good, is it well written?"

"Yes, it's well written..."

"But?"

"The subject is boring. Who cares about "Serpentine Swimming?"

"My teammates and anyone else who might be thinking about entering the indoor/outdoor tri next month. Besides, you don't care about sports and think everything I write about them is boring. The only piece you ever got even remotely excited about was the one about my IPod, and that's only faintly related to sports."

"My friends and I are still talking about that one. In fact, it's inspired us to create a new blog!"

"Really? Wow, I'm flattered!"

"Wait a minute, I'll show you. Here it is: 'An Alien's Guide to the Earth'"

" 'An Alien's Guide to the Earth'?"

"It's a series of detailed and instructive articles about common things that an alien visiting Earth for the first time wouldn't know about. Like a spoon or chairs."

"Or an IPod?"

"We're going to use your blog as our first article!"

Every dad wants to inspire his children, but that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Hey, at least I have a purpose in their lives - I serve as a source of endless amusement. Everyone's got to be good a something.

See you out there.

Ganging Aft Agley

2008-04-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

The poet Robert Burns knew it,
"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley"

Or as we better know the lines,
"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

That's how my training has gone the last couple of days - not bad, mind you, but just not how I planned it.

Thursday was beautiful - close to 60* at noon, with a bit of a wind from the northwest. Even though it was Swim nite, it was such a good day for a run, I went. Donna slogged along with me, and we ran the run we ran on Tuesday - from the building, down State to Broadway, north on Broadway to the pedestrian bridge over the highway, across the bridge and down to the ceremonial circle on the bike path - a half mile. Stop there and stretch. Then run 1 mile north on the path, turn around and walk/jog back, a total of 3 miles.

I like this route, because the first half mile is mostly an easy down hill, a great way to warm up, and the rest of the route is the same start and course I will run at the St. John's St. Ann's Spring Runoff, which will be my next 5K, on April 26. It's flat and scenic, as it follows the Hudson River, and because I run there often, I am familiar with the landmarks and distances. This helps me gauge how far I have to go and how I am doing.

Bringing me to failed Plan #1. Because I have been running regularly, I was sure I had a great shot Thursday at running a sub-12 minute mile. After all, I had run a 12:10 on Tuesday over the same course, I had rested Wednesday, so all me and my fresh legs had to do was pick it up a little and those 10 seconds were gone, baby, gone! Except, they weren't. For whatever reason, my thighs were lead and every step was an effort. Even, so I was pretty much on pace as I passed the boat launch and headed up the narrowed path into the last third of a mile. Then, with 200 yards to go and a real shot at getting under 12 - I stopped to walk. In the last 200 yards I paused twice more, and ended up at 12:16, six seconds slower than Tuesday's time. Maybe it was all in my head again, but it sure felt like it was in my legs and lungs, and I have no idea why.

Good thing I ran at noon, though, because instead of workout number two for the day, a phone call brought me failed Plan #2 - the Y called and said the pool filter was under repair and class was canceled.

The Southern Saratoga YMCA's Indoor/Outdoor Tri is coming in 3 weeks and the bike portion is a 10 mile outdoor ride. I need some training time on a real bike before then, no spinning bikes in this tri, so I called Maria and set up a ride. The weather had been spectacular for the previous four days, but called for rain Friday afternoon. No problem, I thought - we scheduled my first outdoor bike ride of the season for 9 AM Friday morning, well ahead of the forecasted start of the showers. Of course, at 8 AM, it began raining, and I called Maria and canceled. Make that failed Plan #3.

Not to be dissuaded, I went off to the Y. I logged a half hour on the stationary bike, jumped off and hied myself over to the track. This time I sprayed a paper towel and stowed it on the console of the bike before I started my session, meaning when I finished the ride, I could wipe down the bike immediately and get right over to the track to start my brick. Good plan, as I was on the track in one minute and I was running in less than 90 seconds. My idea was to jog a half mile, and then cool down with a half mile walk. Leading to failed Plan #4. Three laps into this, my legs were lead and I stopped. After a rest, I tried it again, and again I stopped after 3 laps.

Standing off to the side catching my breath, I recognized my friend Mike on the track, back from his flights to DC, San Juan and Rochester, Minn. He is a good runner, and trying to get back up to speed after his knee surgery last fall. To help him do this, he has a pretty spiffy watch, connected wirelessly to a gizmo that attaches to the laces of one shoe,and the system includes a GPS, and a computer and I'm not sure what all. Anyway, he was effortlessly loping around the track on a 7:30 pace or so, and I decided to lope along with him. I ended up doing one lap, resting, do another, resting and then a third. His lap times, in the center lane (14 laps to the mile) were 34, 33 and 31 seconds. For me, in the outer lane (13 laps to the mile), that last lap equated to a 6:43 mile. In other words, Mike's pace run ended up being my interval training!

I thought I might get a swim in today, but today is turning out to be more of a chore day than a training day, and that's ok. Tomorrow I really want to get my weekly LSD in, preferably outside, and I'd like to get in a 1,000 yard swim - my neck is still a little stiff from last week's mile (Yes, Dorie, if I had been using proper technique, I would have been my body would have been rotating my head and not my neck, and it wouldn't be sore - I'll work on that next time)

LSD and swim - that's what I'd like to do tomorrow - but I'm making a "Plan" - I already know how that will go.

See you out there.

Serpentine Swimming

2008-04-07T14:34:00.000-07:00

The next triathlon will be an Indoor/Outdoor event at the Southern Saratoga Y in early May. The bike and run are both outdoors and straightforward: the ride is a fairly flat 10 miles, with a couple of minor hills and the run is very flat 5K through some quiet residential neighborhood streets. The swim, on the other hand, is interesting.

The swim is an indoor 325 yard "serpentine swim." It falls someplace between the "every swimmer in his or her own lane" of the indoor tri's and the "me and 50 of my closest friends swarming in a lake" of the wave format of an outdoor tri.

It's called a "serpentine swim" because the swimmers start start in lane one and then "snake" their way down one lane, under the lane line, up and down lane two, snake under the lane line again, swim up and down lane three, etc. The pattern, when seen from above, is a series of "s" shaped curves, or - serpentine.

When they register for the event, the swimmers are asked how quickly they can swim the 325 yards, and based on the answers, are seeded. The fastest swimmer starts first, and the remaining swimmers start about 10 seconds behind each each other, from faster to slower. In that way, the swimmers should form a single uniformly spaced line, start to finish.

That's the theory, anyway. In reality someone always overestimates his speed, or is having a bad day, leading to some swimmers catching up to others. The protocol is for the faster swimmer to tap the ankle of the slower, overtaken swimmer and for the slower swimmer to slide over to the side of the lane nearest the lane line and let the faster swimmer go by. In reality, there are often a number of rookies in the field who don't have a clue, leading to the inevitable bumping and collisions. I don't recall, however, seeing anyone swim over top of another swimmer, as I have seen in open water events.

For something new to me and this blog, I have included a picture of the serpentine swim at last year's Southern Saratoga Indoor/Outdoor Y, so you can get an idea of what it looks like. If you put your mouse on the picture and click, it will expand, and you can see more of the pool. Look for the swimmer in the yellow cap in the lower right side of the picture to see an example of the "standing turn" described above. (I am in the picture, standing near the lifeguard tower.)

The link below will give you some really good advice about how to swim one of these, and how to avoid some common problems. Since the author does a much better job in this area than I could, I will just talk a little about some of the things I experienced which he doesn't talk about.

First, you wear a chip for this race, and it starts when you step on the mat at the edge of the pool, at the direction of the starter. I jumped into the pool feet first to begin my swim, as did most of the participants. However, as we started at the deep end, some of the more experienced racers dove in and got off to a much quicker start.

Since the race is 325 yards and there are 8 lanes, you do not swim up and down each lane - that would be 400 yards. Instead you swim down lane one, up and down lanes 2-6, up lane 7 and down lane 8, ending up at the shallow end of the pool. There you can go up the steps to exit the pool and immediately out the door to your left, over the timing mat, and into the parking lot where the bikes are racked. There are cones on the pool deck at each end of lanes 2-6, reminding you that you need to swim up and down those lanes.

The article below also gives you some excellent tips on how to approach each lane transition, to help you shave time off your swim without shaving skin off your arm, wrist, fingers or head by coming up under the hardware which attaches the lane line to the end of the pool. They are great tips, and I did practice them a few times in the weeks leading up to the race. However, I forgot all about them in the race, and did whatever I could to get under the lines to the other side. Often this consisted of stopping at the end of the pool, standing up, turning my body around, and then ducking under the line and giving a one legged push off the wall. Not too elegant - but it worked.

A final note - the swim is actually a little longer than 325 yards because in addition to swimming up and down the lanes, you are also swimming side to side in the pool, starting on one side and ending across the width of the pool on the other.

I kind of like this event - it was novel, and didn't take too long. The worst part was coming out of the pool, soaked, wearing just my biking shorts, and dashing into the 40* air on the way to my clothes and bike.

I am looking forward to trying it again, and improving my technique and my time.

Here's the link:

How to Race a Pool Sprint Triathlon

See you out there.

An LSD Sunday

2008-04-06T14:37:00.000-07:00

Part I
Sunday is LSD day, and I got to spend the morning on the bike path with my friends Dave and Maria. Warm up was a moderate .8 mile walk, in a relaxed 14 minutes or so, followed by stretching. Then we set off west, at an easy jog, Maria and I chatting, with Dave loping off down the grass at the side of the path. Two weeks ago when we did this it was blustery and a good 15 degrees cooler, and we headed out into the wind. Today was calm, overcast and in the mid-40's - just right. The river was perfect mirror-image reflection still, and beautiful.

Maria hesitated just a tick at the orange bridge - it's one mile out and where I turned around last time out. But I kept going. And she slowed down just for two beats at the crossing leading into the cabbage patch, at 1.5 miles. But I kept going. 50 yards down I let her know I was aiming for the barricades at about 1.9 miles. 200 yards later, she asked me if I was going to cross the road and try for the 2 mile marker - and I told her I thought I could do that. I was a little worried about that road crossing, because after the barricade, the path drops down to cross the road that goes to the Lock, and I would have to go up the rise on the other side to get back on the path - but my legs felt good and strong, and I went up it just fine.

And then, we were there, at the yellow post, 2 miles out. It was a slog for sure, 28 minutes, but I ran all the way, talked all the way and did not stop either for the whole distance. Felt like I could have gone another half mile, too, but I didn't want to push. Other than a little dash up the hill to the barricade on the return, we walked and talked back to the parking lot, and declared that it had been a good run and a grand morning, and vowed to do it again soon.

Part II
Sunday morning is usually swim time me, but both cars were gone, and I had to wait for Jon to come back from his overnight with my car before I could get out to the Y. As he is not an early riser - his idea of an early start to the day is to get up at "crack of noon", he wasn't back until 2:30 pm, and I didn't get to the Y until after 3. This really isn't too bad, as the kids are done with their lessons by 1 pm on Sunday and the pool is pretty quiet, with lots of lanes open. Coach lifeguards from 11-4 on Sundays, and after we exchanged pleasantries and I updated him on the whereabouts and activities of the rest of the crew, I slipped into the pool. I pulled on my zoomers, spit into my goggles, rinsed them, slipped the strap over my head, and made each eye piece "suck face".

Warm up was a lap each of breast, back kick, back stroke and breast, followed by stretching. Then I slipped into an easy crawl, LSD-ing in the pool at 70 seconds per lap. I felt really relaxed and at ease, my breathing was unrushed, and I just felt good. I knew that today was going to be the day - and it was: my very first mile using just the crawl stroke and no stopping!

I felt a little tired around lap 26, and I felt my stroke getting jagged, but I was able to get back to fundamentals, stretching out my arms and rotating my hips. By lap 30 I knew I was going to make it. Just for jollies, I grabbed a quick peek at the clock before I started the last lap. I pushed through the lap - not exactly a Thursday night "melt-down" sprint, but I did it in 55 seconds - and I was pretty happy with that.

Total time: 43:03. Not too shabby for me.

Tonight's question: Will I be able to move tomorrow? I'll let you know.

See you out there.

First 5K of 2008 - Lessons Learned

2008-04-06T14:00:00.000-07:00

I meant to do this in my first post on the subject, but I kind of got off into warm and fuzzy land. That was nice, but it's not going to help me get better. So, here goes.

I tried to relax and go out slowly, but I got out of breath and had to walk only 2:54 into this event. That was very, very disappointing, since I have been working on increasing my distance and increasing my speed. I have routinely been running miles at a little over 12 minutes, both on the track and outside, and I have routinely been running a mile or more at that pace. So, why am I getting gassed a measly 3 minutes in? Back to this question in a minute or two.

The second thing I noticed was that when I did resume jogging, I seemed to be going at a quicker than training pace, but only kept it up for a minute or two. By the time I was into my third mile, in fact, I tried to count 100 sets of footsteps per jog, but I could only maintain sets of 25.

Finally, someplace in the middle of my third mile, I noticed that my quads were getting fried, and by the time I hit the track and my last quarter mile, the Bionic Women jogging me home could have carried me faster than I was moving.

Back to the heavy breathing and premature cessation - this it what my friends think: "It's all in my head!" I believe they are correct. For my first two triathlon seasons, I experienced something very similar during the swim. I was fine in practice, but every time I raced, I was out of breath in a single length, and had to drop back into the breast stroke and hang on the wall to catch it. But in this season's two races, no problem. Why? I've trained harder, I'm more confident, and consequently, I'm more relaxed, and I go out easy. And, if I do start to get out of breath, I know that rolling to my side and looking up at the ceiling will allow me to catch it.

My friend Bill pointed out how ironic it was that I beat 12 out of 28 men in the water in my last tri, a "weaker" event for me, but only 9 out of 28 on the bike, my "strongest" event. Something to be said for training and relaxation.

Yesterday I did 35 good minutes on the stationary bike and then went over to the track to run. I only planned to do two laps, just to run through that brick feeling in my legs. I grabbed my IPod, put on the headphones and listened to Ryan Adams sing, "Elizabeth You Were Born to Play that Part" from 29, a pretty mellow tune. I set off at an easy pace, listening to the music, and before I knew it, I was "in" the music, and very relaxed. I finished my two planned laps and felt so good that I kept going - for 5 more laps. And here's the kicker - I did the half in 5:39, an 11:18 per mile pace, faster than I ever go. That was a revelation - the trick was not rock, but relaxation.

Since Friday's Raider Classic 5K was sponsored by Colonie HS, I'll frame my lessons learned in the form of the famous "3R's":

Relax - especially at the start of these races.

Rhythm - find the right rhythm in the music in my IPod, or the music in my head, but find it.

Run, Run, Run - I'm getting stronger , I can feel it. I just have to continue the regular training to build up my endurance and stamina, and I will get there.

OK - next event is coming up in 3 weeks, another flat 5K. Let's see if I can master my lessons and earn a "A" on that exam.

See you out there.

Colonie Raider Classic - First 5K of 2008

2008-04-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

One day I will tell you that I have run well, that I am satisfied. I will tell you that I have risen out of the ranks of wretched, passed through appalling and made it all the way to mediocrity. Not today.

Here's the bottom line from the finish line: 40:24, 13 minutes per mile average, walked more than I ran, and in a spate of leniency because we are just on the cusp of the season, I give myself a "C-".

Good news? I was not last - I managed to beat a 10 year old girl who was running her very first 5K - and, of course, her mother and her mother's two friends her were staying with her. Wow!

Deanne and Jen M, both 30ish, talked me into this. Jen and Deanne are like Mutt and Jeff: Jen, a sturdy 5'9" brunette; Deanne, a tiny 5' blond sprite. They have been running up a storm this Spring, each for her own reason: Deanne wants to reclaim her title as the fastest woman in OSC at the upcoming GHI Workforce Team Challenge; Jen wants to wear a bikini.

Me? The race was a benefit for the Colonie HS Class of 2008, and since both my kids graduated from there, it was a good cause for me to support. Besides, the $15 is tax deductible, right? I also thought it would be a good early season test of how my recovery and training have been going. The weather was cool and the course was flat, both good things for me. Of course, it had also been pouring all day, and although it let up a little by race time, it continued to rain through out the event. This is not an excuse for my poor performance, however - I just sucked.

Donna was there, too, and she introduced me to a couple of people, both interesting in different ways. The first was older - over 60 - an obviously very competitive. Soon after we met, he began complaining because the last category for prizes was too wide - 50+. He was insistent that many runners wouldn't even come to a small race like this with such an inequity, that the usual groupings were in 5 year increments. First, he engaged the three little old ladies sitting at a table selling raffle tickets. They pointed out that they were just volunteers and directed him to the event organizer. He then bent her ear, while she, in the midst of trying to get this whole event launched, politely noted his concerns. I'm thinking you really have to be driven to kick up such a fuss over a plastic water bottle hung with a blue ribbon.

I confess that I did give some thought as to whether I might be the proud recipient of one of said water bottles, but I looked at it a little differently. I figured that since it was such a small race - about 70 people, and since it seemed to skew toward high school-aged athletes, that I had a shot at a prize, provided there were only 3 people in the race over 50 - including me. The gent described above made 1, so I still had a chance. Then another guy came in and he made two - but I was still in the race for a prize. When a third guy over the magic age came in, my hopes were dashed.

But wait - there was still hope! What if one of the guys tripped and broke and ankle, or had a heart attack and couldn't finish? As long as I made it, I could still win.

And then, because he knew Donna, he - Chuck - came came over to talk with her, and Donna introduced him. He was her neighbor, and a really nice guy. He often encountered her at these races. He hadn't been running too much lately, though, because he had been having some heart arrhythmias. He had been to the doctor and been treated, and he was fine now, but he was going to take it easy. I immediately felt really guilty about my stupid fantasy, and realized that what was important about these events didn't have a single thing to do with prizes or age groupings. They are about the experiences and most of all about the people.

Like the organizers and volunteers who give of their time for worthy causes. And the spectators who cheer for you and encourage you, no matter how slow you are or how far behind the leaders. And Donna and Jen and Deanne, who waited in the rain long after they finished their races, until I turned the last corner and headed out onto the track. There they joined me and kept me company through the last quarter mile, encouraging me all the way. That's pretty special and that's what I really love about these races.

See you out there.

A "Short" Night at the Pool

2008-04-05T05:13:00.000-07:00

Jess and Christina were back from DC, where they both did terrific:

Jess finished the DC Marathon in 3:55:17, chip time, 636/1387 overall, and 16/63 in her division, clocking 8:59 per mile.

Christina finished the DC Half Marathon in 1:33:33, chip time, 156/2640 overall, and 11/236 in her Division, clocking 7:09 per mile.

But here's the really interesting thing: while they were there they had access to the FBI's training facility pool and its underwater cameras, where they had their swimming strokes filmed and analyzed by one of the instructors. Jess learned that she was turning her fingers up slightly as she extended her arm, which was increasing resistance. She also learned that her arms, instead of going straight forward, should be angled more steeply, to get to the undisturbed water in front of and underneath her body. (At least I think that's what she said.) They both were able to correct flaws in their strokes and shorten their Strokes Per Length (SPL)by about 15%, meaning they were more efficient in the water.

They also noted that they while they were more efficient in their stroking, they were a little slower. As we Total Immersion fans know, the trick to increasing speed is decrease our SPL while increasing our Stroke Rates (SR), and, most important, to find the perfect balance between the two. The tricky thing for those of us who are not elite swimmers is that as we try to increase our SR, our form tends to break down, and we do more churning and less gliding. It's amazing how technical swimming can be.

Finally, to really, really get faster, you not only have to balance SPL with SR, you have to add power to your stroke. I'm afraid this all may beyond my abilities, as I am only mortal, and far, far from elite. But, what the hell, I'll talk to them some more next week, see what else they learned, and I try it out. Can't hurt, right?.

Coach also added a new 200 yard freestyle drill, shortening the time between sprints as follows: a length up at 50%, followed by a sprint back at 100%, repeated 4 times.

Our swim time was shorter, too. We had a good turn out, with all the women there, and me - Mike was working, Gil had to take care of a project at home and Steve couldn't make it. We all had a lot of catching up to do, we congratulated everyone on their recent accomplishments, and we were all pretty interested in Jess' and Christina's experiences with the FBI. Dodie was back, too, and had just had her stitches pulled. With all the talk-talk-talk, we didn't get started with warm-ups until 7:40.

Finally, our class time was shorter. Class is supposed to go from 7:30 until 8:15, but early on, Dodie asked if we could go until 8:30. Coach, being vary gracious, accommodated her request, and made sure his lesson plans kept us busy for the full hour. However, there is now a life saving class which meets at 8:15, meaning we have to abandon two of our reserved lanes at that time. We do get to keep the third lane, for the extra 15 minutes, though. As usual, Kelly took the time after class to swim extra laps, joined this week by Jess.

So, it was, indeed, a "short" swim night (you didn't think I was going to make jokes about the diminutive stature of my teammates, did you?)

Once again, the best part of the evening was Dodie - when she learned that we were losing 15 minutes off the end of our class, she immediately said to Coach, "Well, we will just have to start at 7:15, when the earlier class ends!" And who knows, maybe we will.

Two Kinds of Thor

2008-04-01T14:41:00.000-07:00

The pun police are after me, but I can't help myself!

Two days after the tri, some observations about the aftermath of biking, and some additional lessons learned.

First kind of soreness – muscular soreness. Remarkably enough, my hams, quads, calves and glutes are all fine. My adductors
on the other hand (other leg? – oops, there I go again), the inner thigh muscles, are sore. These muscles are used to bring the legs in towards each other, and to stabilize the hips. I am speculating that my seat may not have been positioned properly, that it was a bit high, meaning my hips were "rocking", with my thighs flying out on the down stroke and moving in on the upstroke. The soreness would have been caused by the work these muscles did trying to compensate and keep me centered.

Second kind of soreness – pressure soreness. Every spring my butt (which is not really my butt but – how to put this delicately? - the region between my "zither " and my "zatch", i.e., front to back along the centerline of my bottom – gets sore during my first few longer bike rides. After a while, the riding gets routine, and the area "toughens up". Apparently "Ground 0" has not toughened up yet.

I generally wear bike shorts with a good pad in them to minimize the pressure and soreness. However, for this tri, I wore an older pair of bike shorts with a minimal gel pad, and I don't think there was very much gel left in it. This was good for the swim – I didn't have that "swimming while wearing a wet diaper" feeling that I get when wearing my regular biking shorts, but not so good for the bike. Hey, I figured I would be on and off in a flash, so what did it matter? (Don't even start! And in the same spirit, a new slogan –"Every time you climb into the saddle, make sure you are wearing the right protection!")

Good padding helps to prevent chafing when you're in the saddle, too, but the real key here is the judicious application of the proper lubricant to all tender parts and bits before putting anything else on. I favor A&D ointment, but there are a number of other products that work equally well. Whatever you pick, make sure it's waterproof, because moisture, from whatever source or cause, exacerbates chafing. This is a good tip for the long run, too, or swim for that matter. (The pun police are almost here...)

Lessons learned:

- Make sure the bike seat is properly adjusted before training or riding.

- Sometimes its OK to put a little padding where Mother Nature hasn't provided any of her own (no - I'm not going there)

- Muscles are activity specific. The best way to train the muscles used in a specific event is to do that event. The bike portion for the next tri will be outdoors on a "real" bike. Since the weather at this time more or less precludes training outside on my bike, the training will have to be done on a stationary bike. To best train for this, I will need to lower my RPM's to 85-90, increase the resistance to build strength, and vary the resistance to emulate hills.

- Finally, to make sure I approximate "real" conditions, move my stationary bike about ½ mile behind each bike being ridden by a sprite or an elf every time I go "up" a hill. Never too early for a dose of reality therapy.....

See you out there!

The Morning After.....

2008-03-31T14:32:00.000-07:00

When I got out of bed this morning, after yesterday's tri, I was reminded of the punch line to an old (and very poor) joke:

"Me? I'm Thor."

"Thor? You're Thor? I'm so Thor I can barely move*!"

Believe me, I understand the feeling.

* The actual word used describes a bodily function, and would be pronounced with a lisp - but I'm already in trouble with the pun police, I don't want to offend the PC police, and I surely don't want to risk losing my PG rating - r.

Second Tri of 2008 Guilderland Y Indoor Tri 03/30/08

2008-03-30T08:46:00.000-07:00

Nice event this morning. Lots of familiar faces, and it's nice to compete on my home "turf". Best of all, my buddy Kelly the Quick took a first overall for women, and her husband Craig took a first overall for men.

I had an 8:40 AM start time, which is very civil. For these indoor tri's, the trick to getting the later start time is to register later, but not so late that you get shut out. Turns out Kelly and Donna were in the second heat, which went off at 7:20 AM. Since the Y is only 10 minutes from my house, it was pretty easy to get over there early to cheer them on.

Kelly staked out lane 3 - she picked that lane because that's the lane she trains in on Thursday nites, and she felt comfortable there. Donna, who had just flown back yesterday from SC from her visit with the granddaughters, was over in lane 7. Because my wave didn't start until so much later, I got to watch and cheer for them in each event.

Super Steve was in the last wave, the one after mine, so he was in my cheering section for my swim, although I didn't get to cheer for him. I understand he did very well, 26 or 27 lengths in the pool, 7.5 on the bike and a very respectable 1.9 miles on the treadmill.

The good news about an indoor tri is that all the events take place in a confined area, so it is easy to see the competitors. The bad news is that, other than the swimming, there's not much to see, since neither the stationary bikes nor the treadmills go anyplace, and neither do the athletes using them. From a competitor's a point of view, though, this is an ideal situation, because you can hear your friends cheering you on during every minute of each event, and that's great.

The Score Card

Swimming: Not bad. I did the crawl stroke for the entire time, kicked off the walls much better than during the last event, minimized my "hang time", that is, the amount of time I grabbed the walls and rested. I covered 25.5 lengths, a full 25 yards farther than during my Febraury tri, and I met my goal. Of course, if I hadn't stood up once at the end of the pool, looking at my watch and adjusting my goggles (and being truthful - catching a short rest) and if I had been just a little quicker off the walls a few times, I could have covered 26 laps. Still - pretty good (Thanks, Coach!) 67 points; A-

Bike: Pretty good. I knew we were using spin bikes, so I looked up the bike settings last night from my last indoor race and memorized them. Knowing these let me set up the bike as soon as I got out of the water, which gave me a quicker transition to the bike, and meant that I had a minute more of rest time between events. I knew enough to pedal at high RPM's and low resistance, and I knew that I could get over 120 RPM's, the highest number on the bike computer and that the computer would still register the distance.

Two minor screw ups - I forgot to start my stopwatch at the beginning of the race, and tried to set it about 2 minutes in, with the help of the lead volunteer in the room. Good idea, except I straightened up to do this, I forgot about pedaling - not a good idea since the flywheel kept turning, and so did the pedals, which are fixed - no coasting on a spin bike. Consequently, my feet came out of the straps, and I had to slow down to try to slide them back in. Being a slow learner, this happened again before I finally got the stopwatch going - one of the volunteers helped me slide my foot back into the cage this time.

Other than that - a pretty good ride. 7.29 miles, over .8 miles better than in February. 76 points; A-.

The Run: A disaster. I made the assumption that since the February indoor tri had us all running on the track for the third event, we would be running on the track this time, too. That's the way I trained, transitioning from bike to track when I was practicing the bike, and running on the track, or outdoors when I was practicing for the run. Wrong! Last night Kelly let me know that this event was going to be held on the treadmills. And, no touching the rails during the entire event.

I hate the treadmill - I think it's a tyrant! When I run, I slow down or speed up a lot during a workout. Walk whenever I want to, too - no problem to vary the pace. Not the case on the treadmill. I have to hit the up or down arrows repeatedly to go from a run to a walk, or vice versa. And I inevitably grab the side rails or the front of the machine for balance during abrupt speed changes like run to walk, or during sprints.

This news freaked me out - I worried a lot about it last night, and didn't sleep too well. I was afraid if I tried to go too fast, I would lose my balance and fall, or grab the rails and get disqualified. I decided to be very conservative, and alternated between 4 mph walking and 4.6 mph jogging - 13 minute mile pace. And that's what I did.

Every now and then I tried to go faster or longer by getting into a zone and using the dis-associative technique that was described in the NY Times running column last week - staring at a distant object, counting my footfalls and synching my breathing up with them - but each time I did, I started to lose my balance. So I went back to the slower pace, and the results show this clearly. 1.1 miles; 40 points; D.

Lessons Learned: Ask questions about the events and the equipment. If I had done this, I would have trained on the accursed treadmill and done better for sure. After all, I am routinely running 12 minute miles or so during my training - I can do better!

On the positive side - I am very pleased with swimming and biking. I trained hard to improve, and I did.

Two minor notes: No body markings for this event - I felt cheated! And, we had to wear swim caps in the pool. I had forgotten how wonderful it is to try to pull one of those things over my head - like trying to put on a giant condom, but without the payoff.

The IPod Factor: Not a factor. The powers that be decided that since runners are no longer allowed to use IPods in road races (courtesy of the lawyers and their fears about liability lawsuits, we would not be allowed to use them either. Or more accurately, the people in waves 3-7 would not be allowed to use them, because it took them 2 waves to figure this out. This logic struck me as more than a little flawed, since it was not a road race, and there certainly was no danger of being hit by a car while inside the YMCA. Not to mention inconsistent in its application.

But, this seemed to be the only flaw in a very well organized and well run event. My applause and congratulations to Kerry and all the volunteers who put this event together and made it a great success.

Where the Boys (and Girls) Are

2008-03-29T06:57:00.000-07:00

Hint: it's not Ft. Lauderdale, and I am not talking about George Hamilton, Jim Hutton, Dolores Hart, Paula Prentiss, Yvette Mimieux, and Connie Francis. I am talking about our Thursday nite swim class, and what we are up to.

Christina and Jess (Giggle and Gaggle?) are in Washington, DC, at the SunTrust National Marathon and Half Marathon, with Christina doing a Half to warm up for the Boston Marathon, coming up on April 21 and Jess is doing the Marathon, in preparation for the Ford Ironman Lake Placid Triathlon, on July 20.

Gil is once again a 7-minute man, and recently ran The Running of the Green (Island) 4 Mile Race, and the Guilderland Rabbit Ramble 4 Mile Charity Run. He will be moving up in distance for his next outing, the Demar Dash 5 Mile Road Race, on April 6.

Captain Mike will be "grounded" tomorrow and tackling the Mudders and Grunters Cross Country Race, a 5 mile off road slog through FDR State Park in Yorktown. If they have the same snow cover there that we do here, he might want to think about rading in his running shoes for snow shoes.

Dodie is still recovering from her surgery, and picked up a cold, to boot, so hopefully she's just taking it easy and getting better.

Super Steve, Kelly the Quick and I will be at the Guilderland Y tomorrow morning, participating in an indoor tri: 15 minutes in the pool, 15 minutes on a spinning bike and 15 minutes on the indoor track. I would give you a link to the event, but the Y doesn't even mention it in its on-line listing of upcoming events. Go figure.

I would like to do a little better in tomorrow's event than I did last month in a similar event at the Southern Saratoga Y - a length more in the pool, and the equivalent of 2 more laps on the track ( the Southern Saratoga track is slightly longer than the one in Guilderland). I've been training regularly, and I will be using my new IPod, so I am hopeful. But, I recognize that sometimes when I put pressure on myself for these events, I tend to tighten up, go out too fast and end up struggling. Could happen. To prevent this, I will try to approach this as another workout session, try to do the best I can, and see what happens.

In a little while I will go pick up my race packet, and Donna's, too. She is flying back from SC this afternoon, after visiting with her granddaughters - I bet they ran her around pretty good, which has to be great training, right?

Kelly and I were talking about the event Thursday night, and I mentioned that we get body-marked when we sign in (they use a water proof marker to write our race numbers on one arm and one calf). Kelly admitted that she loved getting body-marked - that it made her feel special. I confessed that I felt the same way. What can I tell you? - I get such pleasure out of the little things in life!

For those of us dreaming of warmer weather and the Pinebush Triathlon, here's a link to a little something extra I found while researching the events I mention in today's blog. It was interesting to get a non-participants take on the PB, and it was nice to read about and see pictures of people I know.

Up next for me is the St John's St Ann's Spring Runoff 5K on April 26, a benefit for their Outreach Center. It will be my first road race of the season, and depending on how things go, my first steps towards this.

See you out there!

IPod? I Plod? Eyes without a Face?

2008-03-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

I dragged my self over to the Y tonight to get on the stationary bike one last time before Sunday's indoor tri. Took me almost two hours after supper to get through all the "really, really important" things I had to do (like checking out the Mets Spring Training Box Score and reading a review of Britney Spears performance in "How I Met Your Mom", for example) before I slathered on the A&D Ointment, pulled on the wonderfully flattering bike shorts and drove the 5 miles over to the Y. I was able to stall a good 10 minutes more when I got there, because my friend Stephanie was working the desk and it was slow enough so that we could chat for a while.

Finally, I went upstairs, slotted myself in on the board for 30 minutes on bike #4, raised the seat to "8", threw my leg over the saddle, slid my feet into the straps, and pedaled. I had a really hard time getting it cranked up much over 104 rpm, well below the 120 I am aiming for on Sunday. I know I can do that, since I did it the last time I rode here, managing 8 miles in 30 minutes. Tonite, a mere 7.25 in the same time. Better than couching it, I guess.

When I got done on the bike, I hit my stopwatch, wiped down the bike and rubber legged it over to the track next door. I promised myself I would pair my bike sessions with mini bricks, and at least I have been doing that. I was on the track in 1:40, but being a good neurotic and too lazy to reset my watch, I waited for the stopwatch to hit 2:00 before I took off.

I did two laps in the middle lane (14 laps / mile) in 1:26, with my feet keeping time with Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face. You know what? This IPod stuff really works. It's a song I haven't heard in a long time, it's really good to hear it again, and when I let myself get into the music, it really pulled me along. 42 seconds per lap translates into a sub-10 minute mile - just short of flying for me.

Then I walked a half mile to cool down, but I wanted to try one more thing before hitting the shower and the hot tub. I put the song on again, and waited for the 2:30 minute mark, when Billy ramps the song into an up tempo break, and then I took off again for one lap, in the outer lane, 13 laps/ mile. I blistered that sucker in 31 seconds, a 6:43 mile pace, and faster than I have gone in a long time.

Now I know, I am just "sampling" the music, and two laps doesn't make up a 5K, let alone a marathon. But, man, the possibility is there - the possibility is really there!

IPod's for Dummies (or, " IPod for a Dummy - Me")

2008-03-23T12:32:00.000-07:00

I have a good sense of rhythm, but a lousy sense of pace. This is a problem for me, because I am trying to become a better, stronger runner but I often seem clueless during my workouts.

The only pace I can keep consistently is the LSD pace, and that's only because it's keyed to something I do extremely well - talk. That is, I know I can jog for a pretty good distance without stopping (currently 1.83 miles - according to Google Pedometer - Satellite View) if I jog slowly enough that I can talk comfortably with my jogging companion. That's great for the weekly length builder, but not so good for those workouts where I want to build speed or strength.

I've tried running, biking and lifting to music and I like it, but it's pretty hit or miss (for once, no pun intended). I have good quality headphones with AM/FM radio built in, but they don't work in some places, like the Y under the Concourse, and you are never quite sure what song you will get, or if you will hit those unending commercial breaks. My older CD player allows me to select the music I want, but it's a little bulky, and I can't even imagine trying to carry it on a run. If I wanted to change the pace of my workout, I would either have to carry multiple CD's, or burn a "mix-tape" - and I just can't be bothered.

I have resisted the ubiquitous IPod's that my children (23 and 20) favor - they just seemed so high-tech. But, my desire to run better has brought me around. I have turned to John Bingham and Jeff Galloway to learn how to be a better runner, and I learned that Jeff has collaborated on run/walk music, and the music has built in warm-ups and alternate run/walk periods and cool downs - and that sounded very good to me. I went on line and found Jeff Galloway Run/Walk Music, and I thought I would try it. Then I discovered that everyone has gone high tech - I could buy a CD, but not only would it take longer to get here but it would also be more expensive than an MP3 file of the same music.

So I bought an IPod. It's not too fancy - it's a 2GB 2nd Generation Nano, and I bought it refurbished from the on-line Apple Store, for $79 plus tax, about $85 total. (Refurbished nano's like this are not available all the time, so if you want one and they aren't in stock, check back from time to time) IPod Shuffles are now available for just $39, but they don't let you choose what you hear - they just play whatever songs are stored on them randomly. I wanted to be able to select what music I listen to. The nano has the famous IPod Scroll Wheel, which lets me do that very easily.

I wanted something more secure than the ear buds that come with the IPod, so I swapped out the SONY Behind the Head Ear Phones I had been using with my CD player. They are light weight, and stay put, even during vigorous exercise. I paid about $15 for them at Circuit City.

Through the tutelage of my son, I quickly learned that the key to easily getting music onto my IPod is ITunes. You can download the software free and it really is very easy to use, at least it was after Jon demonstrated it for me and walked me through it a couple of times.

When I want to get music onto my IPod, I fire up ITunes on the desktop, and then I connect the IPod to the computer, using a cable (it comes with the IPod) that plugs into the bottom of the IPod on one end and into a USB on the other. One of these ports is handily located on the front of the CPU, a little ways below the disk drives. Once it's connected, though, you are not supposed to unplug either end until you click on an icon in ITunes to virtually "eject" it - I don't know what happens if you don't do that first.

With the IPod connected to the desktop and ITUnes, I get lots of choices. If there's anything in the ITunes library I like, I just click on it and drag it over to the IPod icon. If I have a CD, I just pop in into the disk drive. ITunes "sees" it and asks me if I want to import it. When I click ok, ITunes imports the songs into the library. I can watch the progress it is making, and it dings when it's done. Then I click on the music library, click the menu button in ITunes that lets me sort by date - this pops the songs I just imported to the top of the list. I highlight the songs I want, click on them and drag them into the IPod icon. Pretty easy.

I can also buy music on-line from the ITunes On-Line Store. I had to register the first time I went there, but after that you just search for what you want, download it and follow the same procedure outlined above. The really cool thing to me is that I can buy an entire album, or just one song. This is a wonderful feature if you are a fan of one-hit wonders, want one particular song, and could care less about anything else on the album.

You can also download MP3 files from Amazon. You will need to set up an account with Amazon if you don't already have one. The first time you want to buy music this way, you will have to download a small software application, but that's pretty easy, too. You can download an entire album - I found that the prices for albums on Amazon are cheaper than those on ITunes - or just a song or two, for $.99 - the same price on either site.

After one week, I now have 103 songs on my IPod, and have a little over 1Gb of memory left, a little over half of what I started with. I've downloaded a pretty eclectic bunch of songs and albums - two mix tapes Jon gave me for Xmas over the last two years to expand my musical horizons, some old favorites like Journey, (much to Jon's disgust!); and Billy Idol; and some new favorites like Amy Winehouse, Sara Bareilles, and Feist.

Jon also found an down loaded 45:33 original running music composed and recorded by LCD Soundsystem, commissioned by Nike.

Will training to music make me a stronger and faster runner? I don't know - I'll keep you posted.

Among the Huddled Masses, Yearning to Breathe Free!

2008-03-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning is typically a swim day for me, but tomorrow is Easter Sunday and the Y will be closed. Because the indoor tri at the Guilderland will be next Sunday, I wanted to make sure I got a swim in this weekend. I can't go this afternoon, because we are having Easter Dinner today at our house, our once a year homage to our Ukrainian Heritage. Since I had some final prep work and cooking to do before our company arrives some time after noon, to get the swim in, I went over to the Y a little after 9A.M.

Oops! The Y does a great job of serving the community and it was apparently serving a good portion of it this morning. The pool was packed.. the four left lanes were blocked off and filled with parents and their young children in the middle of a kinder-swim. (Example - The teacher stood in waist deep water, encircled by a half dozen or so parents, each holding his or her child. The teacher held up a bucket filled with water. As water flowed gently out of the dozens of pin prick holes in the bottom and sides of it, the parents held their children under the bucket, one by one, so the water could flow over their heads. The kids seems to like it.)

The three right lanes were filled with more children and their parents playing and enjoying a free swim. This left one lane for lap swimmers.

When I got there, the lap lane contained one older woman. She was standing at the shallow end of the pool, grasping the edge with her arms, and fluttering her legs in the water - at least I think I saw some movement. The other lane was also filled - an older man alternated between a very slow breast stroke on his front side and an even slower sculling motion on his back. Each time he rolled over, he had to pull up his swim trunks. I admit that I was a little impatient, and wondered why they couldn't be doing what they were doing in the free swim lanes next to us.

In a few minutes, the women finished her workout, grabbed her flip flops from the edge of the pool, put them on her feet while she was still in the water, ducked under the lane line, and walked out of the pool.

I slid into the half lane she vacated, and started my warm ups, first the breast stroke, then the crawl. I usually really appreciate my corrective vision goggles, because after many, many years I can finally see in the water - but today was an exception. If our relative positions in the lanes was just right, as I turned to breathe, I could see my lane partner's shorts shimmying down his backside, revealing the glory of the grand canyon, before he reached down and hitched them up. I guess I should be grateful he wasn't swimming on his back when all this took place.

Lane sharing worked out just fine for a few laps - until another older man appeared out of nowhere, and cut diagonally in front of me into the lane! I know the protocol - if the pool is crowded, you swim 3 to a lane, counter-clockwise. However, you usually wait at the end of the pool, catch the attention of the swimmers already in the lane, and then get in water and begin to circle. Not this guy, though. I figured out what he was doing, and immediately went in to circle mode - not my favorite - but I made do.

A couple of laps of this must have been too much for my sculling friend - the new guy and I were both stronger faster swimmers - and he ducked under the lane line into the free swim lanes and continued on with his stroking.

A few minutes later, a women came and sat at the end of "our" lane, dangling one leg over the lane line and into the free swim lane. I knew she wanted to swim laps, but she didn't say anything to me as I swam near. As I completed my next lap, I looked at her, circled my arm and hand like a baseball ump signaling "home run", asked her if she wanted to circle with us, and told her I would only be swimming for a few more minutes. She did, and she was a good swimmer, faster than either of us, and she soon lapped us. When I could feel her catching me near the end of the lane, I slid over to the left corner, stood and let her pass. Our lane companion must not have liked being lapped, since he, too, moved over to the free swim lanes.

Being a little claustrophobic, I was finding it very hard to get into a rhythm, and after only 500 yards, I called it quits. I rationalized that my work in the pool was done - but my work in the kitchen was not. If I ever need to swim again on a Saturday morning, it will be some time after 7 am when the pool opens, but well before 8:30 am, when the masses assemble.

Hearing, Seeing and Not Believing

2008-03-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

I suppose one of the reasons I take on tough goals and hard things - most recently Sprint Triathlons - is that I love the reactions of some people when they find out that I am a triathlete. After 7 tri's in two years, I can say that truthfully - I am a triathlete. I've finished every event, I've never been last, and I am improving in each event. But, I don't look like a triathlete.

I recently attended a national conference in Phoenix for a professional organization, the leadership of which had asked me to make two presentations and participate in a two hour open format Q&A session. I still marvel that at my age I get paid to go to really nice places and talk.

Over the years, I have gotten to know a number of the members, including a woman who is the president of this year's Board. Last December at an event in San Antonio, she and I got talking one evening after all the meetings were done for the day and I learned she recently took up running, and she learned that I recently took up triathlons. I think she found this just short of amazing, a fairly common reaction for people who don't know me very well. While we are not too far apart in age - she is a few years younger - she is petite and looks like an athlete. I am not and do not.

At the opening reception this year in Phoenix, she told a number of people that Ron (me) had participated in a number of triathlons. One of the members couldn't believe his ears - or, apparently, his eyes. He stared over at me in disbelief and said, You mean Ron, from New York? He's participated in triathlons?"

When she said "Yes", he stared over at me again and said, "Recently?"

Like I said, got to love those reactions!

If seeing is believing, here are links to some event photos:

Southern Saratoga YMCA Indoor/Outdoor Tri, May 2007

Pawling Tri, June, 2007

Pinebush Tri, July, 2007

Pinebush Tri July 2006

Not the Same Old Routine

2008-03-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

Head under water and you tell me to breathe easy for a while

Breathing gets harder - even I know that! "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles

Seemed appropos for describing our new session of Stroke Improvement class. Coach Aaron whipped up a whole new routine for us, and I got to experience it last Thursday night for the first time. I missed the grand unveiling because I was in Phoenix on business the week before. Gil was there for the first class, though, and a new person - Carol. Gil said it was tough - which speaks volumes because he is a good athlete and because he is not one to complain. Carol? Well, she wasn't there. Maybe she had a conflict in her schedule. Coach speculated that maybe his new workout had scared her off - he almost seemed pleased by that thought!

We had a pretty full class: Jess and Christina, Kelly, Mike, Gil and me. Steve had a conflict so he wasn't there.

Dodie wasn't there - she had had surgery on her foot and her lip last week so she couldn't go in the water. Dr. only charged her half price - since she has her foot in her mouth so often, he did them both at once. (rim shot) She swears that the problem with her lip was not due to an overuse injury (rim shot) (Oh, boy, am I going to get it!)

First we warmed up - the good athletes get to do 10 wall push ups at each end of the pool. I just have to do the laps. After warm up, Coach gave us different sets - 100 free at 70%, then a 25 yard sprint, then 100 yards back at 70%, then a 25 yard sprint, then 100 yards kick only (kickboard) then a 25 yard sprint. Then we did different 100 yard sets with 50 yard kickboard drills in between. Coach figures we have been at this a while now, so he is making it tougher by letting us "rest" while we are still working. Making us shorter of breath while we are in the water, and thus the Sara Bareilles quote at the opening of this entry.

We also do treading water drills, alternate 20 seconds just feet, both arms out of the water, then 20 sec just arms - like a big buzzard flapping his wings (builds the shoulders) - we do this for 4 minutes. Aaron put these in the middle of class, as another "rest". I like the arm only drills - one of the only times when have a higher BMI - more fat, less muscle, meaning I am less dense than the athletes in the group - is advantageous to me.

And we do more brick drills - swimming on our backs, using just our feet, carrying a10 # brick on ours chests (mine fits under my jaw ;and then another brick drill: getting in a circle in the water, staying up with just the feet, and passing the brick around, with our arms way out of the water, taking the brick in our left hand, transferring it to the right (arms overhead during the whole process) and then passing it to our neighbor - completing 4 complete times around the circle. Wonder if he will put two bricks in the circle at the same time next week?

At the end we do "melt downs" - 50 yard sprints, with short rest between. I try to start (with the zoomers) at 45 seconds, with 45 seconds rest, and then get faster. Sometime we do 3, sometimes we do 5. My fastest with zoomers is 38 seconds. My friend Kelly does them consistently in 35 seconds - no zoomers.

It was a good work out, and even though I was tired at the end, I am preparing for another indoor tri in two weeks, and I know this will help. It was also really good to see my friends again and to catch up a little with what they have been doing. I missed seeing Dodie and Steve, though. And it was good to see Coach again, too - I think! (Aaron the Agonizer?)

I Stood Among Giants

2008-02-22T17:45:00.000-08:00

She sat on the side of the pool, shivering. At the tick of 7:30, she slid into the water, pulled on her black bathing cap,tugged the strap of the over sized goggles around the back of her head and positioned the tinted lens over her eyes. When she straightened up in the shallow end of the pool, her chin seemed barely above the water. At 4'11" she is petite, and while not fragile, she is not "ripped" or visibly muscular. So I was surprised the first time I watched her power through the water, arms windmilling, head swiveling and moving really, really fast.

After watching her swim, I wasn't surprised to find out she had run last year's Boston Marathon, nor that she had run the New York City Marathon in the fall, but I was surprised to find out that she had a beer after each - legally. I thought she was about 18, but I was wrong by a decade.

Last night she surprised me again, she being Christina, one of three sprites I share the pool with during Thursday nights' Stroke Improvement classes. While it was Thursday, and Coach Aaron was on the deck, and Christina, Jessica, Kelly, Mike and I were in the pool, there was no class, since it was school vacation week. We were all there because we had the hour blocked out in our schedules anyway, and because it sounded like a good idea.

Besides, it was really good to see everyone and catch up. Truth be told, even though Dodie was not there, there was more talking than swimming. During the chatting, Christina and Jess told us they wouldn't be participating in the March 30 indoor tri at the Guilderland Y because they would be in Washington, DC running in a marathon and half marathon respectively. Christina is "only" running a half, because she wants to peak at the Boston Marathon on April 21.

She ran a 3:58 there last year and I told her I was impressed. Christina poo-poo'd that time, and told me she was slow (slow?) because of the rotten conditions. Jess told me that she, Christina, was planning to run a 3:17 this year.

Kathy and I have wanted to see the Boston Marathon ever since Emily went to BC two years ago and described what it was like. This year we booked a hotel room on the 20th, a mile and a quarter from the course, and we plan to walk over on race day to the corner of Washington and Commonwealth and cheer for the runners as they start up the hills out of Newton - and especially for Christina.

Though taller than Christina, Jess is also petite. And strong. First time I saw her swim, I wondered what she was doing in class, because she seemed pretty good - and fast - in the water to me. Turns out that she had a flaw in her kick that was causing her leg to cramp up and fatigue as she started to pile up the laps, or the distance. Coach was able to spot the flaw and correct it. That's a good thing for Jess - since she is planning to participate in the Lake Placid Ironman in July. Considering the fact that in addition to her speed in the water she is also a strong runner, and she is also a very good cyclist - she teaches spinning classes at the Y - I am sure she is going to do a terrific job there. We may just have to make a trip to Lake Placid in July to cheer her on, too.

My friend Kelly was the third sprite in the triumvirate that night. She had been sick the entire week with a stomach bug, but she was still there working away. She felt better, but she still hadn't been able to eat much, and had been losing weight - although I don't know from where. She told me she was a little worried because she was supposed to take part in a marathon relay on Sunday - her leg was going to be 9.3 miles, and all she had eaten the last couple of days had been flat ginger ale, a few crumbs of bread - and Pepto Bismol. I told her that her teammates would certainly understand if she didn't participate. But that's not how Kelly thinks or acts.

I saw her the following Monday night at the Y - she was working at the desk and I was coming in to swim. I asked her if she had run, and if so, how she did. Not only did she run her leg, but she had done 7:30 miles, a PB for her. I asked her how she felt, and she told me her legs were a little sore. I certainly understood that. Then she told me it wasn't from the race - she said she had felt so good Monday morning, and Monday afternoon was such a lovely day outside that she couldn't waste it - so she had run 5 miles before coming to work. And her legs were a little (!) tired.

So here's to my friends and teammates - the 3 Sprites. Though they are small in stature, they do mighty deeds, and when I am with them, I feel as though I am standing among Giants!

First Tri of 2008

2008-02-17T14:01:00.000-08:00

First one for 2008 is in the books!

I completed the Southern Saratoga YMCA "Love to Tri" indoor triathlon this morning.

The Event
The tri consisted of 15 minutes in the pool, 15 minutes on a spinning bike and 15 minutes on the indoor track. The participant (by gender) going the farthest in each event gets 100 points, and everyone else gets points proportional to the distance he or she covered relative to the leader. For example, if I swam 24.5 lengths (which I did) to the leader's 40 (as did the leader in Mike's heat), he would get 100 points for the swim, and I would get 61. The top three men and women, regardless of age, win prizes.

Preliminaries
I signed in and picked up my race packet yesterday (a pretty cool t-shirt) so I knew my wave didn't start until 9:40 am, and that I didn't need to be on the pool deck until 9:30. The Clifton Park Y is only 15 miles from my house, which meant I got up at a very civil 6:45 am. and left the house at 7:45 am. I had plenty of time to sign in, get numbered on my right arm and left calf, and go check out the bikes.

Last year a vendor brought in 8 super cool high tech stationary bikes, complete with HD video screens displaying virtual courses that made you feel like you were out an actual road course - the bike got harder to pedal when you went "uphill" and you slowed down if you went off the "course" No such glitz and glamor this year - they brought down 8 spinning bikes from upstairs for us to ride. I have never been on a bike like this before, and wasn't quite sure how they worked. One of the nice volunteers - and there were plenty of them there for this event - showed me how to adjust the seat up and down, and forward and backwards, and how to adjust the handlebars up and down. I memorized the settings - 6 for the handlebars, K for the seat stem height and 2.5 for the seat position, and went off to watch the earlier heats.

I got to cheer for my dentist again - he's the one who introduced me to this event last year. He's a very good competitor and did well - I think he was second in the running portion of his wave, which was lead by a very quick 6 minute miler who ran the whole race with his head cocked to the left.

Final Preparations
Then it was off to the pool. Following the tip of a participant from last year, I grabbed two side by side lockers - one for my street clothes and one for my tri gear. I wore my bike shorts, glasses and flip flops into the pool area, and carried my towel and goggles. Not knowing where I would exit the pool, I hung the towel and my glasses on the safety grab bar nearest the men's locker room, being careful to put my glasses to the side, and not on top of, my towel - no repeats from last May, when I came out of the pool, grabbed the towel and flung my glasses into a nearby field!

Jessica from our Thursday nite swim class was warming up when I got there, and I got to cheer for her during her wave. She is a good swimmer and a good triathlete.

I was pretty nervous for much of the morning, but talking and cheering for Jess, and then talking the other people in my heat - who also admitted to being nervous - calmed me down. Donna came in and it was good to see her, and talking with her took my mind even more off of being nervous.

The Swim
We got about 3 minutes to warm up, entering the pool at the shallow end. This time, I took advantage and swam a couple of laps, first with the breast and then with the freestyle. We started in the water, at the deep end of the pool. I concentrated very hard on relaxing, getting some deep breaths before the whistle, and not going out too fast. Oh, yes - I also concentrated on not talking and missing the start, like I did last year!

When the whistle blew, I started my watch, and pushed off, being careful to slow down, stretch out and breathe. My goal was to swim freestyle and complete 24 lengths (12 laps) in the 15 minutes, just about a 10% improvement from the 11 laps I did last year. How did I do? Fair - I got 24.5 laps, so I made my goal.

But, I found my self holding each wall for a second or two, both to grab a quick rest and to look at my watch to see how much time was left. Turns out, by the way, that I hadn't turned my watch to the stop watch mode, and what I kept looking at was the time of day setting not the elapsed time. This was discouraging when I thought I had only done 7 laps in 9 + minutes, way under my desired pace. I asked the volunteer counting my laps how much time was remaining, and she then let me know each time I got to that end of the pool. I felt better and was able to push harder knowing I was on target.

Also, I got tired and had to swim one length with the breast stroke about 18 lengths in. On the good side, at some points when I started to get breathless, I remembered Kiera's tip and rolled farther to my breathing side and looked up at the ceiling - that slowed me down, let me get a fuller breath and helped me recover. ( I think that's like finding your sweet spot in Total Immersion.)

No zoomers for this swim, of course, and my feet did feel naked and my legs felt disconnected from my stroke - sharp, short kicks with naked feet do not provide the power response you get when wearing zoomers. But, my arms, legs and core were definitely stronger, and I felt comfortable pulling myself through the water. Thank you, Coach Aaron and Stroke Improvement Class!

All in all, I give myself a "B" for the swim.

The Bike
You get 5 minutes between events in this tri - a lifetime compared to outdoor triathlons. But, somehow the swim clock and the bike clocks were a little out of synch - and people were late getting on the bikes, including my friend Mike. This means he and the others got less than the alloted 15 minutes to ride, and could not cover as much distance as they should have been able to do - and lost points. I felt bad for them, and especially for Mike.

I learned two things about the Spinning Bikes. First, unlike the electronic stationary bikes I am used to riding, there is no relationship between the resistance and the speed/distance registered at any level of RPM's. That is, on the electronic bikes, at 90 RPM's you may be going 12 mph at level 2, but 15 mph at level 6, meaning you would be registering more distance covered at level 6. On the Spinning Bike, it made no difference whatsoever. The goal is to find the minimum level of tension on the bike which lets you attain maximum RPM's without letting the wheel spin out of control. It took me a few minutes to figure this out, meaning I was working harder but not registering more distance.

The second thing I learned is that no matter how fast you pedal, the bikes will not register over 120 RPM's. So my frantic two minute spin at the end of the period trying to gain more distance did nothing but tire me out unnecessarily. (Well, from a training point of view, I guess it was like doing interval training...)

In other words, to register maximum distance on a Spinning Bike in 15 minutes, pedal at 120 RPM's for the duration.

Final Result: 6.42 miles. Effort "A" Results "B"

The Run
After I got off the bike, I ate a piece of orange (the host Y had oranges, bananas, water, etc both in the bike room and in the lobby), drank from my 50-50 gatorade/water, changed headbands (both color coordinated with my classic blue EMS techwick shirt, of course), popped in a fresh piece of gum and headed upstairs to the track.

Since they count laps covered, not distance covered, during this event, it's best to run, jog or walk on the inner lane. The track is a little bigger than the one at the Guilderland Y - at the Clifton Park Y it takes 14 laps around the inner most lane to cover 1 mile, while it takes 15 trips on the Guilderland track. But, since the middle or jogging lane in Guilderland is 14 laps to the mile, and that's the lane I have been training on, I felt very comfortable.

I had run a 12:18 training mile on Friday night, a little over 50 seconds per lap, and I hoped to be able to match that, and cover 17 laps, a little under 1.25 miles.

Didn't happen. I forgot how tired my legs get after hard biking, and I had done no "brick" training before the event. I was able to jog the first two laps pretty well, but then I got tired. I ended up alternating jog laps with walking laps - not what I had wanted to do at all. Even with Mike, and Jess and her sister Melanie, and Donna's friend Mike cheering me on, I only managed 15.25 laps. I did the mile in 13 minutes, and then only managed 2.25 laps in the remaining two minutes. I'm pretty sure I did a 12:30 mile last year, and ended up with more laps.

Grade: Even cutting myself some slack for loss of training in the Fall due to pulled hamstring, "C-" (Note - my cheering section did point out to me that the other guy in my wave walked the entire time, meaning that I won't be last!)

Lessons Learned
Keep working on the swimming to build endurance - and swim more often without the Zoomers.

Since the next tri, which will be at the Guilderland Y on March 30, is likely to also use Spinning Bikes for its bike leg, train on the stationary bike at high RPM's.

Work to increase the distance I run during each run workout in order to build up my leg strength and endurance.

B-R-I-C-K-S!

I am more focused and train harder if I train with other people and if I train for a specific event.

Finally, participating in events with friends, cheering for them and having them cheer for me, is the icing on the cake. I am, after all, a Social Athlete!

Sea Turtles

2008-02-15T10:19:00.000-08:00

Got to give Coach Aaron an A for Active Imagination, as in he always tries to come up with new and creative activities for our for swim class. He knows that there are only so many variations of "Front, Back, Side" before we get bored, no matter how good those laps are for us. So, he intersperses the lap work with brick work, variations on treading water (hands only, feet only, feet only with the brick), "melt downs" (("interval training"), races (beat your team mates) and timed 50's (beat your own time). And every now and then, something special.

Often the drills we do during our sessions are designed to work on strengthening different muscle groups. The backstroke, for example, works different arm and back muscles than the freestyle. The "chair race" drill, where one person "sits" in the water about half way between each end of the pool and sculls madly backwards towards the near end of the pool, using only his arms, while trying to beat a free-style swimming classmate headed for the same end, but starting from the far side of the pool, is designed to work the biceps and pecs, which it does. It also tests the sanity of the "chair" swimmer, since he or she is always supposed to lose the race!

Last week Aaron hurried us along through our opening drills because he wanted extra time to introduce a new drill - "The Train". I think we all should have been a little suspicious when he opened the class by asking all of us if we minded touching someone else's feet. That seemed a little weird, but we like Aaron, so we went along with it. Turns out that none of the five of us professed to have any particular problem with feet, and besides, we wanted to see what he was up to.

Sure enough, about half way through class, he assembled us all at the deep end of the pool and introduced us to "The Train" or at least, he tried to. Again, we should have been suspicious when he told us that he had a new drill and that he had tried it out first with his class of kids. They loved the drill and "got it" immediately.

The object of this drill is to work the arm muscles of the lead swimmer, or "locomotive", in the train. He (or she) has to pull the entire train, using just his arms, since the "car" behind him connects by grabbing onto his to feet, meaning he cannot use his legs for propulsion. Each "car" in turn, grabs onto the legs of the person in front, until the train is fully formed. Then the locomotive has to pull the train to the other end of the pool. At least that's the theory.

We, apparently, are not smarter that a group of 5th graders. I volunteered to be the first "locomotive". Initially, I had to really work to try to go forward and then, all of a sudden, I shot forward. Turns out the "cars" behind me couldn't stay connected to each other. Aaron, standing at the deck at the end of the pool, was exasperated.

"What's wrong?"

"We can't hold our breath that long!"

"Who told you to hold your breath? Just breathe!"

So, we tried it again, with everyone breathing and then putting his or her face in the water, exhaling, and then repeating. That went ok for a few seconds - and then the train "derailed" again.

If Aaron hadn't had buzzed nearly all his hair off, he would have begun pulling it out at this point.

"Now what's wrong?"

"We're sinking!"

Turns out all the sprites and elves behind me had too little body fat to float, and I wasn't pulling the train fast enough to keep them above water.

Not to fear - Coach gets a big "C" for creativity and using his noodle. Or more precisely, the Y's noodles. He went into the storage room at the side of the pool, and came out with 5 swim noodles. These 5' long green foam tubes, each about the thickness of my arm, are very buoyant, and great flotation aids. Coach had each of us put the tubes under our arms and across our chests. This worked like a charm, and off we went to the other end of the pool. At that point, we switched "locomotives", changed the line-up, and off we went again to the other end, where we repeated the process, until every had a chance to pull the train.

At first I felt bad for Christina and Jess and Kelly, since they had to pull not only their fellow sprites, but also me and Gil. But they are pretty strong and they did fine, doing both the breast stroke and the arm over arm freestyle. Gil did a super job, too.

As you might imagine, Aaron did not call "All aboard" this week - he didn't give a specific reason, but I'm guessing that it just took too long to get through the drill, especially with us. Since Mike and Dodie were in class this week (but not Christina and Jess) and they didn't know how to do the drill and would have had to be taught. Of course, he did mention that his kids loved the drill and asked him first thing in class to do it again.

Kelly was busting on me, complaining that she had had to drag my butt around the pool last week. I told her at least I had a butt! Then I tried to explain the physics of the drill, that since we floated, the "locomotive" had to pull the mass and not the weight of the group.

Kelly piped up and said, "That's what I said - I had to drag your a** up and down the pool!" I gave up.

One last note: Kathy has been coming to the Y on Thursday nights and after she walks upstairs on the track, she comes down to the pool. I asked her if she had seen any of the class, and if so, what she thought. She said she hadn't seen much, but at one point she glanced over and thought we all looked like a bunch of sea turtles.

Some how, I don't think that's what Coach had in mind.....

There's No Place Like (The) Home!

2008-02-10T15:02:00.000-08:00

The season has been over for a while now, and it ended in disappointment. Fortunately, the sport lends itself to redeeming moments, and the new season is almost here. To get ready, though, you need to train, to learn new things, to work on your weaknesses,to polish your strengths. But, it is tough to get outdoors and train hard in the middle of a cold NE winter. What to do?

Easy - do what has been done for years - go someplace where it's warm! The perfect spot would add solid facilities and equipment into the mix, and a great training table, because nutrition is vital. There should be a bunch of recreational opportunities near-by, because even the serious don't train every minute of every day. To top it off, you absolutely need good people to share the experience with you.

I know the perfect spot: since I am talking about triathlons and not baseball, and me and not the Mets, the perfect spot is not Tradition Field in Port St. Lucie - it's Doris's Rest Camp at "The Home", in Boca Raton.

To be fair, it's not really called "the Home". That's just the verbal shorthand my sisters and I use, because its real name is the A.C.T.S Retirement Life Community at St. Andrews South. For the last nine years my mom, and until last November, my dad, have lived there and at least once every winter, I go down to visit. Often I go down in January, to celebrate my mom's birthday, which is on January 22. Sometimes we get a twofer in, because my sister Tammy, who lives in FL, but 8 hrs away, has her birthday on the 23rd.

I like The Home - I'm not ready to move in yet - but I like it, and I think it makes a perfect winter training location. First, the weather in January is terrific. Mom often frets and tells me the weather is fickle and it can be chilly in January - daytime highs could drop way down into the 60's!

The facility has it's own training room, too. It's not fancy, but it has treadmills and an elliptical - both brand new on this trip, and recumbent bikes. It has weight machines for all the essential body parts, and an ab frame, so you can get down on the mats and crunch away. It's air-conditioned, of course, and you can go any time of the day or night.

They have three outdoor pools, too, all within easy walking distance, and two of them are heated. I admit that they are short, and only one is ok - barely - for lap swimming. But that's not really a problem, because the Boca YMCA is only two miles away, and it has great pools, and just about every kind of fitness equipment available. Of course, the hours at the Y aren't quite as good as they are at The Home, but you've always got to make trade-offs.

I think the food at the home is great, too. They have a full service dining hall, staffed by a terrific crew of polite, friendly and very nice local high school and college kids. If you don't like the daily specials, you can have chicken or fish or prime rib every day. You can choose from a half different kinds of salad every day, and get the dressing of your choice.

Lots of drink choices, too - water, coffee, hot or iced-tea, lemonade, and my personal favorite - buttermilk. ( No booze, but a fair number of the residents gather in each other's apartments for cocktails before coming down to dinner) I always get a large glass of buttermilk when I eat there - cold and tangy and contrary to what you might think, very low in calories.

Add to that a half dozen different sides, including white or sweet potato every day, and a half dozen different desserts - you can mix and match those too - pie ala mode, anyone? You can tailor your meals to any diet or dietary restriction you can think of, including regular, low sodium, low sugar, or any combination. And you can have a half portion or a double portion - just ask. When you're done, the nice staff clears the dishes and does them! How can you beat that? The only down side - you have to dress for dinner - that means a blazer and shirt for men (no tie required, though), every night except Monday or Friday - you can go Casual on those two nights. Or you can eat in the new Cafe, which is casual all the time.

As far as recreation, pick it: beach, shopping, theater, movies, golf, clubbing, bingo - you name it, it's five minutes away. Don't laugh: my mom turned her 50 cents into $7 one night while I was there!

On this visit, I also helped my mom pack to get ready to move. She is staying at The Home, but moving one building away to a smaller, one-bedroom apartment. So, I added weight lifting to my training - sorting through the hundreds of books, CD's, cassette tapes and video tapes my father had collected, boxing them and either getting them ready to be moved to the new apartment, donating them or tossing them. Great for the arms, quads and glutes.

After getting all the books of the 7 foot bookcase, I got to get a little speed work in, too - chasing after all the dust bunnies! My mom is 86 - even though she is in great shape, you don't think she was going to be getting up on the ladder to dust, did you? Although, knowing my mother she might have - I had to fight with her so she didn't try to carry boxes of books to the dumpster!

The people there are not only nice, they are also bright, and active and very interesting. Lots of them were CEO's,lawyers, doctor's, ministers, etc. before they retired - you name it, they came from a broad cross-section of professions. Makes for very stimulating dinner conversation.

Very good for my ego, too - they think I'm superman in the gym - and yes, many of them are right there in the gym with me.

Finally, you know I've always maintained that once I hit middle age, I became invisible to women (not that I was any great stud muffin when I was younger). At The Home, I noticed that there is a corollary to that rule - once the women hit 85, I am suddenly visible again! And given the way the sexes age, there's a lot less competition, too.

In conclusion, I think The Home is the perfect winter training spot. After all, I lost 5 pounds and came back stronger and faster after my last visit.

In all seriousness - as I said earlier, I'm not ready to move in yet, but I am very glad that my mom lives there. Be great if I had a place to go like that when I needed it, too. God willing, I hope that I remain a visitor there for many years to come.

Hot! Hot! Hot

2008-02-10T07:32:00.000-08:00

This, after Stroke Improvement Class two weeks ago:

Christina - "Are we going in the hot tub?"

Jess - "Are you kidding? That's the best part of the night!"

So off we went, easing into a corner, and letting the jets and hot water loosen everything. As we relaxed, we talked - and one by one, we shared our fantasies.

Gil's fantasy is sleek, and very responsive. Though her clothes shimmer and she wears silver on the outside, underneath she favors black. When he stretches out over her and she responds to his wishes, she can really, really move. Beauty and performance do not come cheaply - but he's pretty sure she's the one, and he's been saving up and says he's willing to pay what it will take to own her.

Jess confessed that knew what she wanted - and that she had gone out and got it! Her needs were, shall we say, "specialized".

Mike admitted that years of pounding had worn out one of his "parts". He thought he could get someone to help him rehab it, that it would feel better and be a little easier than doing it by himself the old way. But she told him that he needed go faster, and work "harder" - and then she made him stand up! (Gil admitted he had tried it once - but he wasn't sure it was meeting his needs, wasn't sure he was getting into the right "zone.")

Speaking of zones, Christina takes a more "asian" approach - she prefers doing it rhythmically, over a protracted period of time, to reach a feeling of "Zen". Sometimes, she admitted, she will practice the art for four hours!

Mike told us that he, too, was attracted to the "asian style", but that he was considering a different kind of "discipline"

Several of us were familiar with the arcane language and postures of a different pursuit, one that encourages you to leave one in front until the other catches up, that encourages you to find your own "sweet spot", that teaches the benefits of powerful hip rotation. Jess pointed out that the technique is very technical. Although none of us had sought the help of a professional, Jess did have two videos, and I had two books to help us learn. (I ordered my "aids" through the mail - discretely. I don't know how Jess got hers.) I lent one of my books to Kelly, but before she could get through it, her husband confiscated it and read it cover to cover - I guess he wants to improve his technique, which is already superior (Don't ask!). We all agreed that to get really good at it, we needed to become totally immersed.

Me? I admit that after two years of indulging in the more traditional activities , I am a little intrigued by the thought of about crossing over. But I am not so sure I can get into the "Hurts So Good" thing.

Nope - the idea that's been slowly twisting in the recesses of my mind lately involves a penguin and LSD. Pretty kinky, huh? Could take me a whole year to work that one out!

Food for Thought

2008-01-27T17:10:00.000-08:00

I am watching Sandra Lee work. My cheeks are flushed; my heart rate is rising - rapidly; and it's getting harder and harder to breathe.

Sandra is the host of Semi-Homemade Cooking on the Food Network and today's episode is Pagoda Passion, promising" Japanese-inspired recipes that break away from everyday menu monotony." It's not the Beef Negimaki that's got me this way, even though the thought of biting into a mouthful of the teriyaki-sauce basted, thinly sliced grilled beef and combining the tang of the green onions with the succulent tenderness of the asparagus tips within is seductive. It's not the thought of downing one of the Cucumber Saki Shots and then consuming the vessel it was served in, either, although the thought is certainly warming. It's not even the sight of Sandra herself, although she does look delectable in her snug, pink, three quarter sleeve V-neck sweater. (The look is all the rage these days among women TV food show hosts, according to Elaine Louie in her NY Times article, Frump- Free Cooking: The Look That Sizzles)

No - I am on the treadmill. Running. Uphill.

In a moment of rare clarity, it occurred to me that there is probably more than just a little irony in the fact that when I am running on the treadmill trying to lose weight, my TV viewing of choice more often than not involves food. In addition to Sandra, I am also very familiar with Rachel Ray, Giada De Laurentiis, Nigella Lawson, Sara Moulton and Ellie Krieger. Lest you think I only watch the women, let me assure you that I am equally familiar with the braggadocio of Bobby Flay, that I love the geekiness of Alton Brown, and that I vote right along with the judges on Iron Chef - both in Japan and in America (although I do think that Cat Cora is kinda cute).

Recognizing this, I thought I would change the channel the next time I was on the treadmill and watch something educational, like the Discovery Channel. I found my self watching the Deadliest Catch Marathon. This show chronicles the dangers faced by the captains and crews of 8 tiny crab-fishing boats in the Bering Sea off the coast of Alaska. The seas are fierce and unforgiving and the work is back-breaking and very, very dangerous. When the catch is good, they work 28 hours straight, hauling dozens and dozens of 800 pound metal crab pots aboard, counting the catch in each, and then furiously tossing the legal ones into holding tanks.

All this hard work has got to be inspirational, right? So, how come all I can think of is that the 56 crabs in the pot would probably make one hell of an all-you-can eat crab-leg dinner, especially with a vat of warm, drawn butter?

OK - so next I turned to Dirty Jobs. Every time I think I've got it rough at work, I turn in and watch Mike Rowe do something really nasty, like scraping the sludge from inside a 5,000 gallon oil tank, collecting bat dung, getting a snake to throw up (and getting bitten three times for his efforts, draining the abscess on a llama's neck or drawing a sample of a horse's bronchial mucous by sticking a tube up its nose. No need to worry about my food obsession while watching this show, right?

Wrong! - I ran through a recent episode featuring entrepreneurs, where Mike worked with a man who takes all the left-over food from a Las Vegas hotel's buffet - and we get to see a shot of the buffet, of course. Looked great! Sure, it's not too appetizing after that, since all the left-overs (I think my daughter told me they they used to call it "ort" at Camp Colby) run down a conveyor belt, where Mike picks out unwanted things like forks and napkins, before it is ground up, moved into a vat the size of a hay silo and cooked. The oil which rises to the surface during the process is collected and sold to manufacturers who use it to make - ready for this? - women's cosmetics. The resultant slop is, fittingly, fed to pigs. Makes me want to run right out and have a pork chop!

Speaking of which, I watched one more of Mike's shows while I was running on the treadmill. In this one, he had to clean the baked-on goodness from the inside of a huge commercial BBQ oven. Of course, before he could do this, he had to empty the traps which collected the melted fat, which was poured into tanks and sold to manufacturers who - you guessed it - used it to make women's cosmetics. At the end of this gig, he did get to eat some great looking ribs, and I have to say the ribs looked a lot more appetizing than the slop-eating pigs I saw on the previous episode.

The next time I'm on the treadmill maybe I should switch to CNN and watch the political coverage - that should make me lose my appetite!

Chills Down My Spine

2008-01-27T15:00:00.001-08:00

It doesn't take long to figure out that no matter what sport you try, someone out there is doing it longer, harder, faster, better. Climb the Adirondack 46 High Peaks , and find out that someone has done them all in the winter, done them at night, done them barefoot or backwards. Train over the summer and successfully ride a "Century" on your bike, and discover that the strong club riders have done in 5 hours what took you 10, or that they have ridden 200 miles to your 100. So it goes.

Since I'm a back of the pack social athlete, I've figured out I'm never going to be one of those "guys" (or gals) but I do like listening to the stories. No matter what the sport, you can hear a good story just about anywhere, too, even in the locker room of your local YMCA

Let's take running - I was talking with my friend Bob today. Now Bob is one of the nicest guys I have ever met and he is very modest and not boastful in any way, shape or form. I happen to know he ran a marathon when he was younger, but the responsibilities of raising a family, working and doing all the good things that he does for the community took most of his time, and left very little for running. This year because he's an "empty-nester", with his son in law school and his daughter in college, he has a little more time, and decided to take up running again. In typical Bob fashion, he has worked very diligently at it, increasing his distance, and losing 30 pounds while he was at it. Last July, he completed the Utica Boilermaker 15K, no mean feat, and has continued to train.

Today he told me that he would like to run a half marathon someplace this fall, and a full marathon within the next two years, some time before his 50th birthday. I think that is quite a goal, and knowing Bob, he'll do it.

Since I find 5K's challenging enough, I am in awe of marathoners, especially those that I know personally, like my friend Barbara, my training partner Dodie, who did the Las Vegas Marathon in 2006, my training partner Jenn B, marathoner and mother of 3, and my new training partner Christina, the swimming sprite, who has run the Boston Marathon (before she was legally able to quaff any of Boston's finest after the race, from the looks of her!)

The guy dressing two lockers over from Bob heard us talking, and mentioned that his wife had run a marathon last year in - you know where this is going - Antartica!

"Wasn't it cold?"

"No - they ran it in February, which was their August"

Technically, she didn't exactly run on Antarctica proper - here's a little from the website:

"The course on King George Island located off the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula loops through the scientific research bases of Uruguay, Chile, China and Russia who provide water, medical assistance and supportive cheers. Great care is taken to leave behind zero impact on the environment in this sensitive ecosystem."

Wow! - a marathon in Antarctica - that most be the ultimate marathon accomplishment, right?

Nope - turns out they established this marathon because:

"The goal of many marathoners is to run a 26 mile race on all 7 continents. This is the only opportunity to run a marathon on the "Seventh Continent".

Yup - they established this race so that the true nut-jobs would have something really challenging to shoot for!

I would love to be a fly on the wall, some day, some where when our locker room friend is telling the story about his wife and the Antarctica Marathon and the guy two lockers down says,

"That's pretty good - one down, only six to go!"

Longer, faster, harder, better!

Can Zoomers Cure a Torn Hamstring?

2008-01-06T15:28:00.001-08:00

No - not by themselves they can't. But, surprisingly, it seems they can play an important part in the rehabilitation.

So, what are the steps to rehabbing a torn hamstring? We all know the first step: R.I.C. E. = Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.

The second step? Stretching.

And the third? Strengthening.

OK. Pretty logical, but what does that have to do with zoomers?

My new zoomers arrived Friday, and they came with a pretty detailed enclosure giving lots of tips and techniques for getting the most out of them. Here's what it says under the 'Improving Strokes" section about the backstroke:

"... The muscles on the back of the upper leg (i.e. the hamstrings - my parens) are weaker than those on the front of the upper leg ( i.e. the quadriceps - my parens again). Kicking downward in the water offers more resistance than kicking upward. Backstrokers kick down against more resistance with weaker muscles. Zoomers fins work these weaker muscles much more. As these leg muscles strengthen (the hamstrings - me again), your kick will push you up higher in the water and you will swim considerably faster."

In other words, lying on my back and kicking with the zoomers will not only improve my conditioning and make me fitter and a better, faster swimmer, they will do this by strengthening my hamstrings. And stronger hamstrings should not only help heal my injury, but also lessen the chances that it will happen again. All that for $29.99. Who knew? I'm getting to like these things more and more.

So, during my swim workout this afternoon, I set some time aside aside for therapy - lying on my back, and zooming.

Swim the Hudson River? Not Me!

2008-01-05T07:53:00.000-08:00

The good folks at the Y try really hard to motivate the members towards healthful lifestyles. They offer an array of classes - everything from ballet to spinning to yoga. They have a pretty impressive array of equipment - stability balls, free weights, computerized strength machine, treadmills, recumbent bikes, elliptical machines - you name it.

And to further keep you motivated and on track, they have Fitlinxx, ( http://fitlinxx.com/brand.htm ) a really cool computerized system that is hooked into most of the strength machines and automatically keeps track of every pound and every rep of every exercise you do. You can keep track of all the exercise you do off the system, too, like running, biking, even shoveling snow by hand, and enter it on-line. To top it all off, you earn Fit Points for everything you do. Keep accumulating Fit Points, move up the color bars on the graph. After one year, I am in the Red Level (that took 50,000 points ) and 19% of the way to the Brown Level ( 75,000 points ). At this rate, I have a shot at making the top level (Platinum, 500,000 points) about 5 years after I move into the Continuing Care Faciliy, and just before I shuffle off this mortal coil (Hamlet, I think.

But the folks at the Y, just like the folks at the NYS Lottery, know that they have to keep changing it up if they want the consumers to keep buying, or in this case, buying into, the product. For instance, this month, if you take 15 classes before the end of the month, you qualify for a free "prize"! Free being a relative term, because you most certainly will pay with time, sweat and a bunch of sore muscles.

Which brings me to Swimming the Hudson River. No, not the actual Hudson River, but the virtual Hudson River. The idea is to log every lap you swim, yard by yard, mile by mile, until you swim 150 miles, the length of the Hudson River. A bunch of people I know have signed up and have been swimming pretty diligently towards that pretty worthy goal.

Not me, though. I know what you're thinking: "How come a driven, compulsive, Type- A, goal-driven neurotic like me isn't all over this challenge?" Because I figured out what it means:
1760 yards to a mile times 150 miles = 264,000 yards.

264,000 yards divided by 50 yards to a lap = 5,280 Laps.

5,280 laps divided by one minute per lap divided by 60 minutes per hour = 88 hours.

88 hours divided by 2 hours per week = 44 weeks.

In other word, to reach this goal, I would have to swim for one hour, twice a week for ten months! That would be in addition to the running, biking, lifting and competing I will need to do to complete the tri's and 5 K's I have on the agenda for this year. Not to mention work and the endless "honey-do" list.

Nope - can't do it - Won't do it. Which just goes to show, even for me, there are "lenghts" to which I won't go.

Hope Floats

2008-01-04T14:19:00.000-08:00

Some times the simplest things can lift your spirits. For me, it was a few words from my friend Kelly, in the middle of our swim session at the Y yesterday evening.

There was no Stroke Improvement Class last night, since we are between sessions. But, since we set Thursday nights aside for class anyway, Kelly emailed me and asked if I wanted to go to the Y and swim. I thought that was a good idea, and I arranged to meet her in the pool around 7:30, after she finished a half hour run upstairs on the track.

I got there a little before 7:30, found the frogman fins in the equipment closet, and did some warm up laps. I swam on New Year's day, but only for 20 minutes, and I was really feeling the post holiday bloat and the two week layoff since the last time I attended swim class. But hey, I was moving.

Kelly came down right on time, and just like always, I was glad to see her, and I felt better because she was there. Since there were 4 or 5 other laps swimmers there, we split a lane.

She said she was a little sore from lifting the day before - she had done a couple of exercises specifically designed to strengthen her the shoulders and lats, muscles you use a lot when you swim. (By the way, today I tried the two exercises she showed me, 15 reps of each with only 5 pound hand weights, compared to the 7 or 8 she was using, and I can understand why she was sore)

As usual, she was quick and smooth and strong in the pool, although when we talked between sets, she was quick to point out the flaw in her right arm movement during her crawl stroke, and her "terrible" backstroke. She only does the backstroke - she said - because Coach Aaron makes it part of our classes. Swears she would never do the stroke on her own, especially not during a tri. In addition to the crawl, back, breast and side strokes, she used a kickboard to isolate her legs, and then she used a pull-buoy http://swimming.about.com/cs/swimequipment/l/aa_swim_gear.htm to isolate her legs. She is almost as graceful in the water as she is when she runs, and that is say, it's a joy to watch her.

I ran through a similar workout, initially just kicking with the fins to isolate my leg muscles, first lying on my front and then on my back, then adding in my arms, doing laps with the crawl, breast and back strokes - but not the side stoke: I hate the side stroke. It was fun to swim with Kelly, but I felt leaden in the water beside her.

And then I started channeling Donna, who in two short 7 week Beginner's Sessions with Coach Aaron and Coach Bob has gone from breathing during the crawl stroke with her head out of the water, swinging it back and forth like Stevie Wonder doing Fingertips, Part 1, to doing beautiful, powerful strokes - with bi-lateral rotary breathing. That is, I decided to work on bi-lateral breathing.

Back and forth I went. It's easy to breathe to the left - for years I have turned my head that way while rotary breathing. The turn to the left has been complemented by my out of water activities, too. Because I play baseball and golf right handed, swinging both a baseball bat and a golf club require strong hip rotation to the left side. This makes left side breathing in the water comfortable and natural. Turning to the right, on the other hand, is hard. Can't seem to get enough hip or head rotation, I'm lifting my neck and head out of the water to breathe, I'm not getting nearly enough air, and more annoying, I am actually swallowing water way too often. I'm feeling pretty frustrated and wondering why I bother.

Kelly's been watching me, and asks me what I'm doing, I tell her. Then she asks why, and I tell her that, too - to try to get stronger on that side to overcome my tendency to drift left while doing the crawl stroke, and to help me sight better in during tri's with open water swims.

I swim another lap and when I get reach the end of the pool where she has been watching me she says, "You are swimming so much better than you were a year ago." No big deal to her, just a casual comment. Very big deal to me. In an instant, I remember that a year ago I could not even swim the crawl for more than a few yards without tiring, that I did all my tri's with the breast stroke. An in an instant, she has buoyed me far more than a thousand laps could ever do.

Because I am energized, and I feel light and strong, I do more laps, concentrating now on snapping my hips to the right, getting my head parallel to the water, and holding that extended arm for just a beat more. And it's working. Pretty amazing for just a few words. Wonder if they can bottle that?

So, Kelly, here's to you: Thanks! You're a great training partner and an even better friend.

Zoom, Zoom, Zoom

2008-01-01T14:10:00.001-08:00

My feet and ankles are incredibly inflexible - this means I can't bend them out into a flat plane and explains why my flutter kick propels me backwards instead of forward in the water. But, as readers of this blog know, there is a cure: Zoomers. Coach Aaron reached into his magic closet during one of the first Stroke Improvement classes, and found a red pair in just my size. I slipped them on and the results were instantaneous and miraculous: when I kicked, I went forward!

This means I can actually get from one end of the pool to the other while lying on my back and kicking. It means I swim like an otter while lying on my back and carrying a brick on my chest - no more snorting pool water during those drills. It means I can swim 50 yard melt-downs in under 45 seconds, and lose to my bare-footed friend Kelly by only 10 seconds a lap instead of 25! Of course, going faster like that also means I am working harder, fatiguing my legs and walking like a drunken bow-legged sailor on shore leave after a session - but I don't care! I love those little things.

At least, I did. Aaron, sneaky but tall and nice guy that he is, hid the little red zoomers after each workout on the top shelf in the magic closet, the better to make sure they would be there for me on Thursday nights. Two weeks ago, he retrieved them for me at the start of class and I put them on the side of the pool while I did some warm-ups barefooted. I was probably doing the breast stroke, which is a hard stroke to do with zoomers since when you do the frog kick, you turn your feet sideways and the zoomers tend to flare out and scratch your nether regions as you draw your legs in and up.

When I finished the warmups and returned to the edge of the pool - they were GONE! Aaron noted my panic and rushed right over. He noticed that a fit young man two lanes down had a remarkably similar looking pair at the edge of his lane, and went over to speak with him. Turns out this Mark Spitz guy had been a college swimmer and claimed they were his zoomers. He pointed to the markings on the tops of each fin, told us his college coach had told them to mark them thusly so they could be easily identified. I guess he had left them at the Y after a practice one day, and they had worked their way into the magic closet, until I adopted them. What could I say? They were his.

I finished the session with a pair of frogman fins that Coach found for me. They are about as long as my snow shoes, but they do fit. Don't get me wrong - I could swim really fast with them on, and my legs were getting a great workout for sure. But, they weren't my cute little zoomers.

And then the most wonderful thing happened. Santa must have heard about me and my zoomers because under the tree on Christmas morning was - an empty shoe box, with a print out from the Zoomer site, and a note from Santa telling me my very own cute little pair of zoomers were on their way to me from California. They're not here yet - but I am just certain that me and my new zoomers will be together for the start of Aaron's next session!

The Year of Tears and Tears

2008-01-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

With six weddings, three showers, one Bat Mitzvah, three graduations and three funerals. 2007 was a year of many tears: tears of joy at the weddings and tears of sorrow at the funerals. I've written tributes and remembrances for my dad and for Jackie, my friend and Step Aerobics teacher, on this blog. I did not write a piece for Vince, my friend and colleague at work for many years, a huge presence and very, very vital man who died of a heart attack at 52, leaving a wife, two young adult children and a host of family, friends and admirers. Others who knew him better have done a far better job of that than I could ever hope to do. His mention here, though brief, will serve to let you know how much I admired and liked him, and how much I miss him.

It was a year that began and ended with two tears of a different sort - tears, pronounced "tares" as in a torn Achilles and a torn hamstring. I don't think either of those brought the first kind of tears - but they were close.

In August of 2006, while training for the Cazenovia tri, I ended an interval training session with my friend Maria with a flat out foot race over the last 50 yards of the course. I won - I am pretty sure she didn't let me get to the barricade first, but I am not totally sure - but I over strode, landed "funny" and pulled the Achilles on my right foot. Those of you who read the medical literature - as I get older I seem to do a lot of that - know that "pulled" is just a less threatening word for what the injury really is: a series of small tears. I spent a lot of time resting it, salving it, soaking it, and stretching it. I also learned all about strengthening the calf muscle through something called "eccentric loading". I limped into 2007 on my bum Achilles, and by March, I was finally able to run on it without pain and without fear of getting "ripped" again in the gym - the wrong way.

It was a pretty good season - 4 tri's, beginning with the indoor one at the Southern Saratoga Y in February, and culminating with the Pine bush in Albany in July. Lots of brick workouts last year, and lots of practice with Long Slow Distance. But still, I am too heavy and run too slowly and I am never going to break 1:30 next year in the PB if I don't improve my time on the run. I decided that the only way to get better at running was to run. Knowing my self, I needed something tangible to keep me working hard. So I decided to begin running 5k's, one every other week, with the performance goal of finishing under 37:14 - 12 minute miles.

Beginning the end of July, it was "Run, Ron, Run": Silks and Satins in Saratoga; Jailhouse Rock in Ballston Spa (my favorite - it has a great downhill finish and I got my PB there; Altamont (very, very hot); SEFCU; Teal Ribbon 5K (I felt the best about this one, as I ran to honor the memory of a friend's sister and to raise money for Ovarian Cancer Research, a great cause) I trained for these by running at least three times a week, often at noon and often with my friends Dorie, Donna, Deanne and of course, Maria. I ran for distance - getting up to a whole 2.25 miles at a clip before I had to walk, and for strength - running hills as often as I could, around Lincoln Park, up and down the hills in Washington Park, up and down State Street and Madison Avenue, and my favorite - "The Hill" - the one just outside the Y in Guilderland - you know, the finishing hill for the PB Tri.

Here's what I learned - flat is easier that uphill, downhill is easier than flat, cool is much easier than hot, and the worst of all is hot and humid and uphill. Hey - I never said I was a Rocket Scientist.

Here's what else I learned - I know what it feels like to tear a hamstring. A hint - it's nothing like a cramp or a Charley horse. Someone asked me if it felt like a zipper being pulled - sort of, but not exactly. Mostly it reminds me of tearing the border off my paycheck, what the perfs must be feeling as I am yanking the two pieces apart. I did this on a practice run around Lincoln Park with my buddies Dorie and Donna. As usual we started from Madison Ave outside the Concourse, across from the museum. We jogged up Madison to the intersection with Swan, and stretched while we waited for Dorie. Then we crossed Madison and headed south on Swan, down the hill to Lincoln Park. Then we started up the hill to Morton. That's when I felt the "rriiiip" in the back of my left leg, and even though I had never felt anything like that before, I was pretty sure what had happened.

I have no idea why it tore. My routine was pretty much the same as always, I wasn't running particularly hard or fast, and I had been up this hill a number of times before. I stretched a little to see if it would go away, but it didn't. Didn't take too long to figure out I couldn't run on it, either. Dorie and Donna stayed with me while I walked the course - I was already dressed and on the course - and I wanted to get my Fitlinxx Points.

I took about 10 days off, icing, soaking and stretching - reading the medical literature again, of course. I felt pretty good so I went for a flat half-mile jog along the river at noon, sandwiched in between two easy half-mile walking stints. That went ok, so two days later I went for another walk-jog, this one at Rensselaer Park, sight of the start of the PB. I jogged with Donna and Deanne and Jen M on the bike path that skirts the lake and goes out to the dump. Going out - pretty good. Coming back - pretty good until I got to the last little hill before the lake and tried to push it - I could immediately feel the strain. I backed off and walked in, stretching at the end.

Three days later I entered the Crossings 5K. The practical side of me said, "Take it easy. See how you feel" The driven part of me said, "It's a flat course - you can finally get that 37:14!" A started out at a pace some where between the two, and felt ok - until I went up that first little hill by the Ciccotti Center and felt that old familiar feeling. I stopped and stretched and thought about quitting - but you know how that went - got to get those Fitlinxx Points. Bottom line, I jogged less and walked more through each successive mile until I could only walk. About 200 yards from the finish, I got passed by an out of shape 10 year old girl who had been walking the race with her mom, and who now decided she just might be able to run to the finish. Let's just say my ego was willing but my hamstring refused - I could not run - or jog - or catch her. I was pretty humiliated. I was also pretty scared that I had really done it this time.

This happened October 6. I did not run or jog in October. I did not run or jog in November. I put on 10 pounds. On December 2, I flew to San Antonio for a conference, and the hotel had a nice little workout room. On day one, I got on the elliptical machine for a half hour and felt fine. On day two, I got back on the elliptical machine for a half hour and felt fine. On day three, I got on the treadmill and walked, elevating up to 15 degrees and back down - and felt fine. At the end of the walk - I jogged, for 1 minute at 5 mph. Good news - bad news: I felt fine, but that single minute whipped me.

I've been on the treadmill a bunch of times since then, walking and jogging, on the flat and on the incline. I am not even close to where I was three months ago. I am discouraged, but I know that with a lot of work, I can get back to where I was.

But, here's what the little voice in the back of my head whispers: "What's it going to be next?" "Is there anything I can do to prevent it?" "If it happens -when it happens - how long will it take to heal this time?" Maybe I should stop listening to the little voice in my head and just put on the headphones, get on the treadmill, and get on with my life.

Happy New Year!

Night Swimming

2007-12-30T18:16:00.000-08:00

I heard it playing on the car radio today - the song by R.E.M. - and the memories came flooding back. 35 years ago, in the summer of 1972, night swimming did not mean Thursday Night Stroke Improvement Classes with Coach Aaron, did not mean multiple laps in the Y pool, brick drills and melt downs. There were no hand paddles or swim fins, and there was no worry about which swim suit would produce the least drag. In fact, there was no equipment, no pool - and no suits and therein lies the tale.

I was 24 years old that summer, and I had been out of college almost 2 years. I was living at home then, in the Assistant Deputy Warden's (my dad) house, located on the grounds of Sing-Sing Prison, just outside the walls and in the shadow of the SE corner tower. I had worked for the last two years, first waiting tables in a Howard Johnson's, then working on the grounds of Sing-Sing helping to build a power plant - a hard-hat job with a pick and shovel, and finally as a Correctional Guidance Counselor at Bedford Hills Prison - on the hill, the men's side, not on the valley side, which housed the women. My dad had gotten me the last two jobs, as I couldn't seem to find a job that paid decently on my own. I wasn't particularly good at any of them. I was bored, I was fat and I smoked. I hated my job and I pretty much hated myself. And then I had an epiphany.

I can't remember what prompted me - probably self-disgust - but I quit smoking, and joined Weight Watchers. Then I quit my job, packed my MGB convertible (not exactly Kerouac's bus) with essentials, and drove to Holland, MI, where I had graduated 2 years earlier from Hope College. I had friends there, living in a rented house on College Ave, and they had an extra room. In retrospect, we were an odd bunch: Eric, an artist nick-named "Wino" for his taste for Ripple and Boone's Farm; Sky, a high school buddy who had never been to college, and who had drifted to Holland after his tour in Vietnam, because he had heard me talk about it; and Fred, Jennifer's older brother - I dated her during my senior year, until one evening at her apartment her roommates all disappeared and she told me she wanted to take a walk, during which I got the "You're a really nice guy, but" talk.

Fred was a couple of years older than me, and while I had been dating Jennifer, he was married to a nurse. I guess they got divorced, because he was sharing the front bedroom with a girl named Cathy by the time I drifted into town. He was planning to attend scuba diving school in Florida in September, to learn how to do underwater salvage work. Which brings me to swimming in the day time.

Fred needed to become a better and stronger swimmer by September, so every day, he would drive into the woods about five miles outside of town, to a small pond, owned by a local manufacturing plant. The pond was shaped like a barbell, quite narrow across the middle, but widening out into two circles at either end. If you swam around the perimeter, you covered about a half mile. Every afternoon Fred would swim a lap or two around the pond. One day, he asked me to go with him. Having nothing much else to do, I went.

Although by this time I had quit smoking and had been losing weight steadily for a month, I was in terrible shape. On my first attempt, I made it across the "handle" of the barbell to the other side - about 50 yards - rested and then swam back. And went home and took a nap. But I kept at it, and after a couple of weeks, I could breast stroke once around the perimeter, while Fred was arm-over-arming it around twice. By the end of the summer, I could do two laps easily, although I never relinquished my beloved breast stroke.

There were girls there that summer, too. In addition to Cathy, there was Mary, a beautiful girl who was working as a teller in the local bank that summer; her sister Kathy, a music major who was as plain as Mary was stunning, and who later came out; Jo, 19, a blue-eyed gorgeous "townie" whose father was the principal of a local junior high school and whose older sister was a theater major at Hope that we knew; and Margaret, who was on the five and a half year plan at Hope - I can't remember why because she was smart and a good student -, and who was living in Holland and taking courses that summer. Margaret's father was the president of a Re-Insurance company and they were well-to-do. She had grown up on estate in the rolling hills of the New Jersey country side, where she owned several horses, rode daily, took lessons and became a licensed riding instructor - English-style - some time before the summer of '72. Her red Irish setter, Shannon, was one of the most beautiful - and stupid - dogs I have ever known. That summer,we all hung out together.

The summer nights were hot in Holland, and none of us had air-conditioning. One evening, after an hour or so of beers and joints on someone's porch, we decided to go swimming. We drove into the country side, to a small lake one of the local girls knew about - not the one Fred and I swam in, but nearby. We parked the cars off the road, behind some trees, and walked down the dark path to the lake to go swimming - night swimming. Because of my day time swimming, I was comfortable, and relaxed, but not for long. Before I knew it, every one was taking off their clothes, and I was, too. I had never been skinny dipping before, at least not since I was a kid at boys camp, and certainly never with women, and beautiful women at that. I remember what I felt: I am fat and ugly and awkward, and I am glad that I take my glasses off with my clothes. Maybe if I can't see them, they won't see me. I want to see them - I do- but if I do, what will happen? I think I know, and I am mortified at the thought.

I run to the water and dive in - it's warm - and I meet Sky, who is thin and fast, and we swim to the middle, where we tread water for a while and talk. I am too afraid and self-conscious to mingle nearer to shore with the others. After a while, most of the group gets out of the water, dresses, and heads up the path to the cars. When they are mostly gone, I head in and do the same, putting on my glasses, losing my cloak of invisibility, so I can again see and be seen.

I walk back to the car and get into the back seat, waiting for the others who are still outside, talking. Margaret gets in the back seat beside me. I tell her it's ok, she doesn't have to sit in the back, but she says she wants to. It takes a moment, but it finally sinks in - she wants to sit in the back seat because she wants to sit with me! She has seen me in all my imperfection and still, she wants to sit with me. I am astounded, but manage to talk with her without babbling too badly. I still have no recollection of what we talked about, but I knew for certain that she was "interested" in me and I mean interested in "that way". I couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it and certainly didn't deserve it, but she was.

The group went night swimming several more times that summer, and I got more comfortable with it. After a while, Margaret and I became a couple and after that we never went swimming with the group again. On Sunday mornings she would get up early, put on her riding clothes, get her horses and drive into the Allegan Woods, where she would join other members of her club and "ride to the hounds." I would stay in bed until she came home and went riding again. She was good to me, but I was a shit. I lusted after beauty and fell in love with Jo, who was her roommate that summer, and I stopped seeing Margaret.

A few years later I ran into her at the wedding of a mutual friend. She was over me and we talked easily, and she invited a group of us to her father's house, which was nearby. We spent a comfortable afternoon, and I saw where she grew up and first rode. I never told her about Jo and me, but I suppose she knew. I heard later that she had gotten married and then divorced. I googled her a while ago - she is a very successful veterinarian now - no surprise there - living in western Michigan and still single.

It's been several years since I thought about her - until the words took me back 35 years to night swimming,and the first time I learned that someone could see me as I was, and still like me - a powerful and liberating discovery.

An excerpt:

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
Im not sure all these people understand.
Its not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
Of recklessness and water.
They cannot see me naked.
These things, they go away,
Replaced by everyday.

Nightswimming, remembering that night.
Septembers coming soon.
Im pining for the moon.

Some People Move Our Souls To Dance: Jackie Stack, August 20, 1948 - November 15, 2007

2007-11-28T02:48:00.000-08:00

My road from Couch Potato to 46'er and Triathlete began with many small steps - 4 inch steps, in fact, and each step was set to music. For 5 years, these small steps were patterned and guided by Jackie Stack, a five-foot tall dynamo who led me and my classmates through 45 minutes of Step Aerobics twice a week.

Our first classes together were on the second floor of the crumbling armory at the corner of Washington and Lark Street. The room was large and the ceilings were a good 12 or 15 feet high, but Jackie never needed a microphone to be heard over the music. It was amazing how much volume and energy could come out of such a small package. And there was never - ever - any question as to who was in charge.

This is not to say she was a tyrant - far from it. She was a leader, and she lead, and inspired, by example.

Jim Coyne has bought and re-habbed the armory, which now houses the latest version of the Albany Patroons, and various concerts and other events. But we used the armory long before there were any improvements. It had air-conditioning, of course, as long as you opened up the giant windows and kept them propped open with the sticks stored on the sills. And that was in the winter time - it got pretty hot in that room with 20-25 of us all trying to keep up with Jackie, especially if you were in her second class of the morning. (Yes - she often taught back to back classes and she was just as dynamic in the second class as she was in the first)

In the summer, she turned on two giant fans - which looked like they had powered Everglades’s air boats in a past life - in the front of the room. We still didn't have any trouble hearing her. Those fans really didn't cool us down too much - only a bit and only if the breeze made it to a bare patch of your skin and evaporated some of the sweat she'd forced you to earn.

The armory had running water, too. The shower downstairs in the locker room worked most of the time. Of course, the water wasn't necessarily warm - this was especially true in February when there was no hot water and your choice was to go back to work as either a pig or an icicle. If it rained the night before a class, you had to look sharp - both down to see if there was water or crumbled pieces of ceiling tile on your step and up - to make sure another one wasn't going to fall on your head.

Jackie made step aerobics a wonderful place, self-contained and all embracing. I loved going there. When we were there, we were in our own special world. My friend Ellen said it best:in Jackie's classes, it felt safe to try, and she never felt intimidated. All of us felt the same way.

I spoke at her retirement party, and kidded that this was the first time I had ever seen most of my classmates with their clothes on, and that I still didn't know anyone's last name.

Jackie knew everyone, though. And she knew what they did, and she knew their children and she knew how things were going for them. Pretty amazing considering we only met twice a week for 45 minutes, and there was the little matter of learning and mastering the routines.

She knew what kind of music everyone liked, too, and she did her darnedest to incorporate it into her classes. So, while lesser teachers relied on canned, 32-beat “step-aerobic" music, we had the real thing - Bon Jovi, Huey Lewis, John Cougar Mellancamp, Journey, Hank Williams, Jr., Gloria Estefan, Leane Rimes, Cher - it went on and on. Made it a lot tougher for her to choreograph the routines - I remember talking with her about "caesura's" - in context with a line from "Eddie and the Cruisers" - and about how real music was much more interesting to dance to but it was it tougher to choreograph because when she was creating her routines, she had to account for the eccentricities of real songs, which had things like caesura's.

Her routines were wondrous. She worked really, really hard to create excellent routines. She thought about every detail, from picking out the music, to fitting it together, to making the routines interesting and fun and challenging. We all looked forward to the new sessions, just to see what she had come up with. She went to
workshops, too, to make sure she kept up with the new steps and that she incorporated them into our routines. Every class had to have a warm up, followed by stretching, followed by the routines - starting slower and then building to a heart pumping, muscle building climax, and then slowing down, cooling down and finally, for those of us who wanted it, floor work - sit-ups, push-ups, and even some Pilates
moves - my favorite was the "dead-bug". And everything was perfectly set and timed to music - wonderful, dance-able, sing-able real music. It was a marvel.

She encouraged everyone to work at his or her own level - she stayed after to work with the rookies so they could master the basics, and she loved teaching us veterans the more complicated variations. Truth be told, she stayed after class with some of the veterans - ok, it was me - when I couldn't seem to master some
combination or move. It always seemed a lot simpler after Jackie took a minute or two to work with me.

For the last three years of our five years together class was held in one of the dance practice dance rooms beneath the Egg. It was a much nicer space - but a little claustrophobic. The seasons were reversed, too. Because of the HVAC, we were cold in the summer with the A/C and hot in the winter, with the heat. We bought fans for the
front and back of the class - the big ones from the armory never made it over - used them mostly in the winter.

The room had mirrors all along the front wall - except for where the pillars were. Jackie danced with her back to the class, but she could see us all in the mirrors. Except me - I almost always screwed up at least one step during the class, and I didn't want her to see me do this. So, I positioned myself in the back of the class, right where she couldn't see my reflection because of where the column
interrupted the mirror. Of course, this didn't work if she put some kind of reverse step in, which she often did, so I was facing the back wall and she was looking directly at me. Didn't work if I tripped over the step and made a lot of noise, either - I mean, she wasn't hard of hearing, believe me.

Jackie attracted quite a crew to these classes. Some of us were together for years, and we got to be good friends, even though we rarely saw each other outside of class. Jackie promoted such warmth and good fellowship that this was a perfectly natural thing to do. We would tell stories and gossip and share information and rumors. I marveled at some of the women who could sing the songs as we were
dancing, during the toughest parts of the routine (across the top,lunge, straddle!). They knew all the words, too. Me, I was maybe good for a chorus or two, if I had enough breath to get it the words out. Usually I didn't, because I was working hard just to get enough air into my lungs to make it through the routine.

Truth be told, I guess I was the class clown. I tried to get everyone, including Jackie, to laugh, or at least smile and I usually succeeded. Jackie was great and I got away with a lot. I was careful not to step on her toes, though, and mostly I didn't. If I did, I knew it right away and immediately shut up. I didn’t make that mistake too often, though.

I remember these classes and my classmates and Jackie as a part of the best experiences of my life. After 5 years of Jackie's classes, I was no longer a couch potato and I had the heart, lungs and legs to begin climbing the High Peaks of the Adirondacks - I could never have done that without her. And I had wonderful friends
and memories. It nearly broke my heart when Larry, the head of the Healthy State Program and Jackie's boss for years, retired and Jackie decided that it was time for her to do the same and to move on to other things in her life. I suppose I really knew it was ending when she gave the steps away to my classmates who wanted them - yes, those wooden classics had made their way over to the Egg, too.

Jackie organized a couple of luncheon reunions after that - but it got tougher and tougher to get together as time went on and other commitments intruded. I saw Jackie from time to time: in the park with her granddaughter; or driving through Albany in her dark green convertible; once I even saw her and her granddaughter at the Prime Outlet Mall in Lee, MA. The last time I saw her was in Washington Park in September - I was jogging with a friend and she was driving by and recognized me. She beeped,waved and yelled out a "Hi, Ron" as she drove by.

I have never gone to another step aerobics class. People who know how much I loved Jackie's class have encouraged me to go, but it wouldn't be the same - it could never recreate that magical confluence of time and place, of music and friends - and Jackie.

Jackie died about a month after she was diagnosed at age 59 with pancreatic cancer. A classmate attended the funeral with me and we were reminiscing about Jackie after we touched her casket and said good-bye for the last time. Sue pointed out that Jackie was one who wasted no time, who got things done once she made up her mind. So, she continued, it was fitting that Jackie learned that she was going to die, accepted it, crafted her own funeral, said good-bye to her family and loved ones, and then went, all within a month. She would have wanted it that way. I believe that's true: passing suddenly would have given her no time to do the things that she knew needed to be done, and lingering was just not her style - she was a women who got
things done.

I cannot give you a full portrait of this remarkable woman who was my teacher and my friend. Her obituary, written by those who knew her much better, can be found in the Times Union. I only knew her for a short time, and only in a limited context. But she was a huge presence in my life. Every time I hear Cher singing "Do You Believe in Love after Love", Brian Adams talking about "those were the best days
of my life...”, or especially, Jon Bon Jovi telling us he did it his way, "Just like Frankie said", my feet move and I remember the steps and the patterns, and I think about Jackie - and miss her.

Turkey Time Tales

2007-11-26T15:54:00.001-08:00

Here are three true stories. They have absolutely no relationship to athletic endeavors of any sort, but I thought you would find them amusing.

Betsi's Big Bird
My friend Betsi's husband Pete, and his good buddy Bobby, decided to raise turkeys this year - 10 of them. Mind you Pete and Betsi live in the suburbs, but Bobby lives someplace up in hills of Berne. He's not a farmer at all - works for the City of Albany - but apparently has enough land so that they could pull this off. Given Pete's lack of success deer hunting the past two years, I guess he figured this was a surer bet than trying to shoot one. Apparently they were successful, because a couple of days ago, Betsi was trying to give the turkeys away and asked us if we wanted one - a 25 pounder. We had no room in the freezer, and sadly had to turn her down.

I guess Pete and Bobby were really successful, because I heard today that Betsi cooked a 39 pounder! When asked how she got it into her oven she said, "I stuffed it in." Brings new meaning to "oven stuffer" for sure.

Speaking of stuffing, Betsi, who is an educator in the Health/Nutrition field, refuses to cook stuffing in a turkey, so she makes it on the side. This means that she took a 39 pound turkey and a full complement of stuffing to her mother-in-law's house for Thanksgiving, where they were feeding 13 people. On the other hand, her mother-in-law absolutely loves stuffing which has been cooked in the turkey. Solution? She cooked a 17 pound turkey at her house, and stuffed it, meaning 13 people, 56 pounds of turkey and two complete sides of stuffing.

And a final tidbit - Bobby's turkey? 47 pounds! I don't know what they did with their stuffing and I don't know what happened to the other 8 turkeys.

Gail's Cooking With Gas - Not!
My friend Gail had 8 people over for Thanksgiving this year - and her husband decided that this was the year they were going to deep fry the turkey in oil. He went out to K-Mart and bought a rig, and for good measure, consulted with their daughter's boyfriend Steve, who had a rig of his own and who had successfully deep fried a turkey before. Gail, being a cautious type - could be from working with me for the past 25 years of so - decided to cook a turkey breast in the oven, just in case.

Turned out to be a good move. No - they didn't burn the house down, or endure any other such catastrophe. Nope - quite the opposite. For reasons known only to the gods of cooking and things mechanical, it took them 4 hrs before they finally got the oil up to temperature - something stuck and by the time they got it unstuck it still didn't work because something else had been overheating for 4 hours, and they ran out of propane anyway. Boys and their toys.

I guess if it everything had gone correctly, the bird would have been cooked in less than an hour and been wonderful - or so they say. Gail says they had enough turkey breast to go around - but no leftovers.

She also says they had to leave the turkey in the rig until the next morning, when the oil was cooled down. When they took it out, it was 14 pounds of perfection - golden brown all over, just like in the TV ads. Yup, they had the best looking, best smelling trash in the entire neighborhood!

Is It Cold in Here? Ron Has a Brain Freeze
We had a good gathering Saturday, 10 people, very relaxed. As is usually the case for holidays, I did the core cooking - turkey breast (we down-sized this year for the smaller gathering) , Oscar's ham, creamed onions, mashed potatoes and stuffing, supplemented by appetizers, drinks and desserts from my friends and family. Everything tasted pretty good.

I usually make giblet gravy, too, but was thwarted because there were no giblets with the turkey breast - if you get the breast with the wing attached, it will usually come with a packet of giblets, but we couldn't find one of those this year. And, oh yes, there is one other reason. In wonderful type-A fashion I try to wash the pots and pans as I cook to maximize the space available and minimize the mess. This year I was so efficient that I took the turkey out of the oven, put it on the platter to set up, grabbed the pan with the turkey drippings, threw it into the sink, and scrubbed out every last speck of drippings before I realized I had just killed the gravy. I guess my family and guests knew something was wrong from the loud "Oh, sh**", and because my response to the cries of "What's wrong?" was "There will be no gravy!"

Since it was not the actual holiday, the Hannaford was open and we sent my sister and son out for bottled gravy. This created its own variation on a theme, because my sister - who believes there is never too much food- bought 5 jars, but not until my son, in his inimitable fashion, dropped a jar on the floor and smashed it, leading to a call on the P. A. "Wet clean-up on aisle 2". I felt bad for the poor kid who had to work on Thanksgiving and clean up that mess, because when I was 17, I worked in a Grand Union, and I was that kid.

All in all, a very minor blip on the radar, and an excellent day. Besides, we now have gist for years of family stories, at my expense. I just want to know how many more times I am going to have to listen to my friends and family screwing up there faces and bellowing, "There will be no gravy!"

Hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday, with memories and stories of your own. Share them with us if you are so inclined.

Walking on the Bike Path - Thanksgiving Afternoon

2007-11-22T13:32:00.000-08:00

It is our tradition to celebrate Thanksgiving with a meal, and to go for a walk after that meal. However, it is not necessarily our tradition to celebrate Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Day. That's the case this year, and Saturday will be the day for family and fun and feasting. We did have lunch and a walk today, after our morning delivering meals for Equinox. Lunch was nothing special - a bagael with cream cheese and a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts - but the walk was on the bike path, and it was.

Today was mild - I was comfortable with a flannel shirt over a cotton tee shirt - and overcast: the sky was mottled, with alternating gray and white swirls. If you looked hard enough at the white parts, you could almost see a hint of blue behind them. The river and inlets were so still they mirrored every leaf and branch.

We walked west. The first thing we noticed was that there were no birds to be seen - no Great American Egrets like on our last walk, and none of the ubiquitous Canada Geese. If we stopped and listened hard, we could hear twittering, but at first we could not see any birds. That changed later in the walk.

There were a surprising number of people on the path at 1 pm. The first person we saw was a Back of the Pack jogger coming towards us. Though the side to side pumping of her arms was not efficient and her strides were labored, her pace was steady and determined. I loved her immediately, and clapped and cheered for her and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving. She smiled as she passed, and I know that smile.

We saw a family of people, probably eastern Europeans, three generations. The two women wore what looked like traditional scarves over their heads. The men wore black. There were two small children, a boy and a girl. They were walking, but the dad of the boy was pulling a little scooter. Later the boy stood on the scooter, while his dad pulled it, and him, along. We wished them all a Happy Thanksgiving as we passed, and they returned the greeting.

We noticed that the ground was clear and free around the four-foot high grave stone shaped marker, engraved with "S9" - nine miles to Schenectady, a remnant from the days this bike path was a railroad track. Two years ago it had become so overgrown that during one of my walks, I carried in clippers and a pruner and cleared away the brush. I noticed that after that, it pretty much remained that way.

Just beyond the marker and just before the orange bridge at the one mile marker there is a small inlet on the left. The ripples in the water caught our attention - they were being made by a beaver. He glided over to a point of land and up to a downed sapling, where he stripped off a small branch. He swam with it to the middle of the inlet, dove down, and disappeared. We waited for a while, but he did not resurface.

By now, we could see, as well as hear,chickadees and bluejays. Just beyond the bridge on the left there is a small stream flowing through the grasses. We noticed three young women peering over the bank, and one of them was taking pictures of something in the water. When we got to the spot and looked over, we saw about a dozen mallards, male and female, swimming in the stream, and moving in and out of the grasses. The males were crowned with vibrant green, while the females wore more muted browns.

Two bicyclists passed us, one on a mountain bike, the soft tires humming on the asphalt, the other, long and thin and lycra clad, speeding by on a road bike.

We turned around at the cabbage patch, about a mile and a half from the start. We both stretched, the joints on my back cracking, and my hamstring protesting just a bit against the cold. While I was bent over, a gorgeous white and brown English Setter came over and did with his nose what dogs do. He was on a retractable leash and his owner, one of a group of six, quickly reeled him in and assured me the dog was friendly. Any friendlier and we would have to get married.

By now we were warmed up, and the walk back was quicker. We noticed that a beaver had joined the mallards, and could not tell if it was our old friend or one of his kin. Close to the finish, we spotted a large whitish mushroom on the trunk of a tree about 5 feet off the ground, shaped just like a bun. Closer inspection revealed that it was, indeed, a hamburger bun, stuck over a small branch. Maybe a new kind of bird feeder?

Back where we began, we saw that the picnic tables had been removed for the winter, with only their anchors remaining. There was a vine wreath tacked to the frame of a window of the old train station, the vines interlaced with seasonal orange and brown leaves and fruits. We knew the season was over when we saw that the bathrooms were locked and the entrance was chained. Not so bad for men - not so good for women.

The bike path is a marvel to us through all the seasons and today it gave us as fine a walk as we have had all year. We had our 3 mile walk, and we had our river and our sights and our wildlife, and we did not have our big meal, so our waist lines and hearts are the better for it, in many ways. And I did add 270 fit points to my Fitlinxx account. Can't ask for a better day than this one.

A Little Walking, a Little Talking, and a Little Good Cheer Thanksgiving Morning

2007-11-22T09:37:00.000-08:00

My wife called me at work at about 3 pm on the day before Thanksgiving. She wanted to deliver meals in the city of Albany on Thanksgiving morning, and more importantly, wanted to know if I was willing to go along with her and drive. We had done this before, and my dance card was open so I didn't object- I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to have to get up in the middle of the night. So I asked her"

"What time would we have to be there?"

"Not until 8:30"

"That's not bad - O.K. - I'll do it."

"Great! I thought you'd say that, so I already called and signed us up!"

Which is how I ended up downtown at the Concourse at 8:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, waiting in line for two hours with several thousand other like-minded people. This was Equinox's annual Thanksgiving Day Community Dinner, and we were a small part of a huge process resulting in meals delivered to over 7,000 people in the area. Quite the undertaking.

Even though I did a lot of standing and a lot of walking, and even though I was at it for over three hours, I couldn't log it in my Fitlinxx account. And even though it wasn't an athletic event, I was still way at the back of the pack by the time I arrived.

It was a varied crowd, mostly families, ranging from couples with young children to grandparents and maybe even a great grandparent or two. So, I did what I always do - talked with the people around me - you didn't think I was going to stay quiet, did you?

Kids
Lots of kids there - some were sitting athe the tables the organizers provided, coloring. A lot of them were on the loose - the alarms around the art work lining the halls went off continually, mostly as kids got too close to the wires and tripped the sensors. There were kids zipping around on "wheelies", too,exhibiting some pretty amazing control and grace as they zipped around, turned, braked to a stop and sat down, all without missing a word in their conversations with each other. My favorite sight, though, was the parents who had their young son sitting in a stroller, with a portable DVD player balanced across the frame. It which was playing a Sponge Bob Square Pants video, and the kid wasn't making a peep.

Considering how small many of the kids were, and how long the wait was, most of those kids were remarkably well behaved. There was one, however, who was not so good - I suggested what they could do with her if they happened to run out of turkeys. Kathy chuckled at first, but then she shushed me - didn't want to alientate any of the parents around us.

On-Line, the Old-Fashioned Way
I talked to a man about my age wearing a SUNY Albany basketball sweatshirt and a SUNY hat. I asked if he was an alum or if he had a son on the team. Actually , he said, I'm a Siena grad, but I help out with the SUNY Lacrosse team. I told him I wasn't so sure about a sport where your opponents get to whack you with sticks.

"Mostly" he said, "they try to hit you on the arm, between the elbow and hand, to jar the ball loose." That didn't change my mind about trying the game.

I identified a Tufts grad by his sweatshirt. 2002 grad, he told me, the semester before Jon started. He, too, had worked at the Tufts Daily, and knew about the ancient mismatched furniture cloistered office where the newspaper staff labored. I told him about Jon's travels to Hong Kong and China and India, and about the classmate who tapped him on the shoulder while waiting in line to see the Dali Lama. As an undergrad, my new friend told me, he had not been very adventurous, had not studied abroad during his junior year. He was now doing post grad studies in physics at SUNY Albany, and most of his classmates were from abroad. He loves listening to them talk about their homelands and travels, and envies them. It's never too late, I told him. Besides, if he knows people who live around the world, as Jon does, do what Jon does - consider them the owners of very inexpensive places to stay!

There was a young couple with three small children, a boy and two girls. Dad and the children were all dressed in Scouting uniforms. The girls were brownies. The boy, a second grader, was a member of a Cub Scout Pack at his elementary school and his dad had stepped up and become the Pack Master. Because the elementary school which sponsors the pack only has an enrollment of about 160 kids - in Albany, the charter schools are really siphoning off students, especially from the elementary schools - it was hard to find kids interested in joining the pack and even harder to get their parents involved - he partnered with a nearby Montessori school. He reasoned that parents who had apply to a school to get their kids enrolled would tend to be more involved in their children's lives and activities - and he was right. He also partnered with the Boy Scout Troop from the St Andrews Episcopal Church , a very active congregation, again expanding the experiences open to the boys in the Pack. We admire the programs - Jon is an Eagle and Em earned her Silver Award, so we talked with him about scouting for quite a while.

A woman ahead of us was a third grade teacher in the Albany schools, so the dad talked with her a bit about what to do to help prepare his son for third grade. Read, she said. Later I talked with her about Em, who is an Elementary Education major at Boston College. She wanted to know if Em would go right on for her Masters - we don't know at this time. She also recommended that Em get a good grounding in special ed. We agreed.

Getting to the Tables
After about 90 minutes we got to the tables - the ones holding the "packets" Each table had a placard with a zip code on it. By the time we got there, all the outlying zip codes - Watervliet, Cohoes, Menands, etc, were gone. That was ok, since we wanted one in the city -12206 had a lot of packets left and that was perfect. Kathy is a case worker and has responsibility for a shared-aid building on Central Ave, and sure enough she found a packet for there - out of the 11 meals to be delivered, 10 were going to people in the same building.

Drivers Wanted
We could only pick up one packet - there were still a lot of people behind us and the organizers did not want to run out of packets before they ran out of "drivers" - interesting problem in logistics, actually. Last year they were short on drivers, so they advertised heavily - and successfully - this year. In fact, Kathy noticed that they were dividing the packets into smaller groupings, so more packets were available. I guess they were worried that if the people behind us didn't get a packet after waiting in line, the word would get out and next year there would be another shortage of drivers. Interesting problem indeed.

The Meals
After we picked up the packets, we waited in line again for about a half hour before we got to pick up the food. They let us go into the cafeteria in small groups of 5 or 6, so as to not jam up the pick-up area. When we got into the cafeteria, a volunteer gave us a large cardboard box - the experienced "drivers" had brought along their own wheeled coolers, or wagons or even hand trolleys. Then we made 11 pick ups at each "station" First, foil wrapped containers of turkey, ham, sweet and white potatoes, stuffing and vegetables - each packet had been assembled ahead of time and frozen, so the food would stay cool and safe for the delivery process. Then Kentucky Fried Chicken takeout boxes stuffed with a couple of desserts - mostly pieces of pie - a roll, celery and carrots sticks. Then small plastic containers of gravy. Next small plastic fruit cups - they were short on those, so you could only get one cup per household, no matter how many meals were going there. Finally, a loaf of bread, or a package of rolls or muffins for each household. There went into a separate smaller box to carry.

Of course, the next problem was how to carry the big box, which was a little heavy, and none too sturdy, to the car, which was at the other end of the concourse and down two levels. Fortunately, the organizers has thought of that, and there were assorted wagons, flatbed carts and other wheeled conveyances available. They also had volunteers down in the garage to bring said conveyances back up to the pickup point - pretty clever.

The Building
It was pretty amusing watching a lot of people from the suburbs try to read the little printed maps which were provided to try to figure out how to get to multiple addresses in the inner city. No such problem for us. As a case worker, Kathy knows every street alley and building in the city and in the northern part of Albany county - and most of the people who live there, too. Townsend is "her" building - she is the only caseworker assigned to it - and of the 150 people who live there, she is either the case manager or involved in the cases of 45 of them. No big surprise that when we got to the building, all the people sitting in the lobby knew her and started talking with her, and she knew almost everyone by name, regardless if they were her clients or not. She had organized the tickets in the packet by floor, to make it easier for us to deliver them. Knew right where most of the apartments were, too. We had also taken some recyclable shopping bags with us and had re-packed some of the dinners in them, especially if we were delivering two meals to one apartment. Made the deliveries easier, and it sure made the big box I was lugging lighter.

Of course, since meals had been ordered for all 150 residents, there was a steady stream of people carrying boxes, trying to get into the small lobby, and backed up in the lobby as they waited for the two very overworked elevators. Since the building has about 16 floors above ground and three below, it would have been tough to deliver all the meals without them.

The president of the building association was a big help: he asked everyone which floor they needed to go to, and then used his key to hold the elevator at each floor while the deliveries were made, making sure the elevator was there when the "drivers" got back. He had also arranged for the meals which could not be dropped off, since the residents were out, to be collected in the community room, where they could be picked up later.

The residents were very happy to see us and thankful to receive their meals. They all talked with Kathy, too, some about the meal, some about her last visit, some about their health. One woman had recently fallen and hurt her wrist, which she held up and showed Kathy. A very different world for me, and pretty amazing to watch.

We had one last delivery, to Elk Street, a street which winds and snakes its way through Albany, mostly parallel to Central Ave, but stopping and starting, turning into a street of a different name for a while, and then reappearing. But, Kathy knew the twists and turns and short cuts, and stayed on the Elks trail just like a bloodhound and we found the apartment and accomplished our mission.

By now it was after noon, breakfast had been a long time ago, and the talk and smell of all that food made me hungry. Since we were not going to have our Thanksgiving dinner until Saturday, we did the same thing after finishing this run that I do after finishing a 5K - we headed off to a Dunkin Donuts, for a toasted whole wheat bagel, salmon cream cheese, and a cup of coffee.

Another Brick in the Wall

2007-11-17T05:41:00.000-08:00

Who knew that my most frequent swim partner would be - a brick? Yep - Aaron was at it again this week with the bricks. As in all well structured classes, we get to build on the lessons of the past. So we repeat an old favorite: we pair up and Aaron tosses two brick into the deep part of the pool and side by side, we go fetch. And we get to do the drill twice because - actually, I don't know why we get to do it twice - maybe "two" is Aaron's lucky number?

Dodie and I are the couple of the moment, so we go do as we are bid and fetch the bricks off the bottom of the pool, flip over on our backs and otter them back to our Master. He promptly flings them out again and gives the command. This time, though, I have an idea to goof on him a little. I am wearing the sparkly red shoes, so I tap my heels together three times - oops - wrong fairy story. I am wearing the red zoomies, so I feel strong, like Aquaman. I convince Dodie to let me get both bricks, to see if Coach notices. I am not totally sure I can do this, so we concoct a back up plan - if I can't handle both bricks, I will drop one and Dodie will casually go down after it and bail me out.

I easily go down to the bottom and pick up both bricks, one in each hand. But it's not so easy getting back to the surface. I have to get both legs on the bottom and shove before I get enough momentum to surface. Once there, I roll to my back, and let the zoomies do their thing. Still, it's tougher than I thought - even with the flippers I have to kick hard and concentrate on keeping my head back and chin up to keep from going under. When I get to the end of the pool, I hand the two bricks up to coach, one in each hand. He says's, "That's great! From now on, I'm going to duct tape them together and you can do it that way all the time!" Ooops.

By the way, since my second run has used up all the time alloted for this drill, Dodie gets a free pass and doesn't have to do her second fetch, so she thinks this has been a fine stunt all the way around.

Keeping Our Heads Above Water
Turns out we are not done with the bricks yet. Coach had devised new torture.

Every week we tread water, first using just our arms - I feel like a big buzzard flapping my wings during this stage - then using just our legs. We repeat these cycles, 20 seconds for each stage, until we complete three minutes.

Sometimes during the arms only part, I cross my legs at the ankles, to make sure I don't use my legs, and also because it feels feel pretty awkward with them just hanging out there. Coach sees this and thinks it's a good idea, and asks Mike and Dodie and Kelly to do the same, which they do. When it's time to switch back to the legs part, Kelly, who has been quietly giggling over in her corner of the pool, says, "Coach, can I uncross my legs now?" Like this drill wasn't tough enough for me without a lung full of water?

Anyway, after "fetch", Coach takes us and the bricks down to the deep part of the pool and tells us we are going to tread water again - with the bricks. Being the nice guy he is, he gives us two (there's that number again) choices. We can hold the brick out of the water with two hands and use just our legs. Or we can hold the brick with one hand, and use the other arm to help keep us afloat. Being Coach, there is a catch - if we hold the brick in just one hand, we have to extend our arm until it is totally straight up in the air. We are going to do this drill - wait for it - twice.

Kelly goes first. She grabs the brick in both hands, starts to kick and immediately begins to sink. This is not a surprise, since she has no fat to help with buoyancy, and the brick is about 20% of her body weight. Coach mentions that last week she only lasted 6 seconds, and is astounded when she is still going after 30. Of course, her head is totally under water and she is not breathing. She later tells us all that she has taken a deep breath as soon as she grabbed the brick, because she was bound and determined to break her record and who needs air anyway? No competitive drive there.

We all take our turns in round one, and we all use two hands. This is a hard drill for Mike, because two weeks ago, Aliens landed on his knee and then drilled for oil. I know this because he has three very neat little equi-distant craters atop his knee cap, and a scar in the middle of it. I've seen enough episodes of the X-Files to know what causes marks like that!

In round 2, we all decide to use only one arm for the brick. Dodie does great - she has very strong legs and is a powerful kicker. She has that brick so far out of the water I think she is trying to touch the ceiling with it. And then, just to show off, she changes arms, without losing a stroke. Next thing I know, she uses her free hand to grab the other brick, and starts pumping the bricks up and down like they are pom-poms. Wow - I guess once you're a cheerleader, you're always a cheerleader!

I can hardly wait until the next class to find out what other perverse things Coach has in store for us and the bricks.

Sometimes God calms the storm. At other times, he calms the sailor. And sometimes he makes us swim.

2007-11-16T03:19:00.000-08:00

I returned to swim class Thursday night, after missing the previous week's session to be with my family in Florida, due to the death of my father. It had been a tough week and a half, and I was physically tired and mentally drained, and did not want to go. But it was good to see Dodie and Kelly again, both of whom have been very supportive, and both of whom hugged me. Good to see Aaron again, too. And it was really good to get back in the pool and work. It was very tough to work hard and laugh at the same time, especially in the water, but we managed. Seeing my friends and working through the drills with them tired me out, but washed away my exhaustion.

Theodore Francis Schubin October 30, 1914 - November 4, 2007

2007-11-15T15:40:00.000-08:00

Theodore Francis Schubin died Sunday, November 4 at the age of ninety - three in Boca Raton, Florida. While we mourn his passing, we celebrate his long and active life.

Mr. Schubin was born October 30, 1914, in Newark, New Jersey. He was a veteran of both the U. S. Army, serving as a corporal in the infantry, and U. S. Navy; serving as a naval gunnery instructor, First Class during World War II in Newport, Rhode Island.

Mr. Schubin joined the New York State Department of Correction as a prison guard at Wallkill Prison in 1937. When he retired in 1975, he was the Superintendent of the Ossining Correctional Facility, formerly known as Sing-Sing Prison. Mr. Schubin was a prison reformer, bringing diversity to the correctional staff and increasing educational opportunities for inmates.

He had a life long respect for learning and education, earning a G.E.D., and attending special courses at Colombia and New York University during 1939 and 1940. At the age of 55, he graduated with honors from Dutchess Community College in Poughkeepsie, NY with an associate's degree in correctional administration. While at the college he served as Chairman of the Evening Division Student Association.

After the Schubin family moved to Florida in 1975, he and his wife traveled broadly, both throughout the United States and the world, visiting not only countries in Europe, but also Egypt, Russia, Thailand and China, among others.

An avid and excellent ballroom dancer, he met his future wife Doris at a USO dance in 1943. He won several dance competitions, and was a instructor for Arthur Murray Dance studios. He and his wife danced together regularly for over 60 years.

A versatile athlete, he swam, ran track, and played football and basketball in the service. Later in life he enjoyed golf, once scoring a hole-in-one, and winning the Mainlands Golf Club President's Cup in 1979 and 1984.

He was a member of the Elks, the American Legion, the Poughkeepsie Youth Board and the Coconut Creek Power Squadron. He was a deacon, and President of the Men's Brotherhood of the Arlington Reformed Church in Poughkeepsie and deacon at the Calvary Presbyterian Church in Coconut Creek.

He had a quick and agile mind, and an outstanding memory. He loved telling jokes and solving crossword puzzles -in ink.

He loved music, and had an eclectic collection of CDs, which he freely shared with his friends.

Mr. Schubin is survived by his wife of sixty years, Doris Wood Schubin; his son: Ronald T. Schubin of Albany, New York; and his daughters: Deborah G. Peterson of Melbourne FL; Cynthia A. Walker of Pawling, NY; and Tammy L. Schubin of Tallahassee, FL. He is survived by six grandchildren: Jon and Emily Schubin; Robyn and Sarah Walker; and Keva DuPont and Kiera Ansbro.

A memorial service was held on November 9 in the chapel at St. Andrews Estate South in Boca Raton. Contributions in his memory may be sent to the Good Samaritan Fund, St. Andrews Estates South, 6045 Verde Trail South, Boca Raton, FL, 33433-4476 or the Hospice of Palm Beach County by making a gift to the Spectrum Healthcare Foundation, 5300 East Avenue, West Palm Beach, FL 33407.

Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly 6 MIle Run

2007-11-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

After 6 triathlons in the last year and a bunch of 5K's in the last two months, I have discovered a few things about runners: there are lots of them; and they run for all kinds of reasons. They run for fitness and they run for thin-ness; they run to outdistance age;, they run to socialize and they run to compete; they run to have something to talk about and if they are good, something to brag about. And every now and then, they run just for fun.

That would be the Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly Six Mile , held once a year in beautiful, but decidedly not downtown, Thatcher Park. On this late October morning the Helderberg Mountains were dry and the air was clear and very brisk. The frost was not on the pumpkins when I arrived, but it must have just left. I was dressed for the cold in fleece and wool, from head to toe. But a bunch of the runners were dressed for - Halloween!

The Albany Running Exchange, sponsors of the event, had turned the entire pavilion area,and the surrounding fields and trails, into one giant out door Spook House. The hosts, runners and spectators were very much into the spirit of the day. A hockey-masked Jason burst out of the woods and terrorized the kids - and me - with a very loud and scary chainsaw - until I noticed there was no chain on the saw. Multiple gorillas mingled with giant bananas, the by product of King Kong, Carmen Miranda and "Nightmare on Elm Street".

Everywhere you looked were terrifying girlies, ghastlies and ghoulies, oh my! If you don't think girlies are terrifying, you haven't seen a six foot tall belly dancer wearing a two piece harem outfit over a hairy chest. The pirates were lusty - and given the fair maidens, it was totally understandable, even if one of them was covered with tiny cereal boxes and all the fixings. Donna was a refuge from Sadie Hawkins Day and Deanne was a black cat with sharp claws, but a very pretty kitty.

You might have thought you had stumbled into Fantasia, and the Flight of the Bumblebees - but they were really the Boo-Bees (Fair Maidens and Fair Maidenforms?)- and they were being chased by the Boo Bee Keeper. His net was strung with a huge brassiere which looked more DDDD than B-sized.

My buddies Dodie and Kelly were there, too. Dodie was running, as was her friend Holly. Kelly was there with her kids and her parents to cheer on her husband, Craig, and her brother, Chris. Chris won the 13 mile event in the past, but while he was fresh off a terrific 10:32 finish at the Kona Ironman, his legs weren't, and he "only" finished 4th this time. Craig of the sore knees was 8th and Holly, training for another marathon, finished with a very good time. Donna and Deanne finished together - they would have been under an hour if they hadn't veered into left field - literally - before crossing the finish line, losing time as they circled back. Dodie made this her first post-achilles run, and finished very respectably. I cheered loudly for them all.

The runners, over 270 of them, took off from a graveyard and ran past several more of them along the way. Each tombstone was "en-graved" with the name of a registrant. Jamie liked his so much that when he saw it, he made a quick left turn off the trail, bent over, ripped it from the ground, and made it his running partner for the rest of the race. You can see the pictures here. To keep the runners on their toes - or on backsides if they didn't step lively - the trails were strewn with bananas. To keep the race interesting, as if the bananas, woods, terrain, rocks,hills and mud from the previous days' rain didn't make it interesting enough, Jason and other assorted beasties and nasties periodically leaped out at the stalwarts along the way. As if their hearts weren't beating fast enough!

Since it was a race, there were awards for the runners - but there were also awards for Best Costumes, Best Pumpkin Carvers, Best Gorilla Impersonation and Most Bananas Carried (remember them? 7 was the winning number). Hey, even a Back of the Packer like me would have a shot at winning one of those!

There was hot chocolate at the end of the race, and the traditional bagels and bananas(of course) But there was also a marvelous cookout, and I understand you could get your burgers just as rare as you liked!

I had a lot of fun. Next year I may have to don a costume and enter. Maybe I'll pretend to be an athlete!

Flipper Re-Surfaces!

2007-11-03T05:26:00.000-07:00

About a month ago I re-connected with an old friend at the Teal Ribbon 5K - he had organized a team in remembrance of his sister, and I was honored to participate.

As old friends do when they reconnect, we got talking about what we had been doing. He knew I had been participating in triathlons and I mentioned that I had started blogging about my experiences. He expressed interest, so I immediately promised to send him the link so he, too, could be subjected to my ramblings.

The first piece he read was "A New Kind of Brick" with its mention of Flipper. Proving that it is a very small world, he told me this in his next email:

You made a reference to Flipper. I have a connection to the show. The older brother on the show was "Sandy". The actor playing Sandy was Luke H... Luke is a distant cousin, but unfortunately I have never met him. However, growing up in the 60's my family watched the show religiously and we were always proud of our cousin, Luke.

Will future anthropologists note that in the 20th and 21st centuries, the bond uniting Mankind was - TV?

Zoomers

2007-11-02T14:42:00.000-07:00

"Stroke Improvement, The Next 7 Weeks" began last night. Aaron and the Band-Aid are back, so are the bricks and the drills, along with a wonderfully sadistic new one called "Melt Downs". But that's the topic of a future post. Dodie and Kelly are back, Al is gone, and Mike and Jessica have joined us. But they also are the topics of a future post.

Last night's drills were divided into NSF and WSF – "no swim fins" and "with swim fins" and that's what I want to talk about – swim fins. I really like using swim fins. They compensate for my notoriously poor flutter kick, make me go faster, and allows me to increase the cycle speed of my arm strokes. I definitely work harder and I know I am increasing my VO-2 Max. Good stuff. I want a pair of these to use during my practices so I can get all these benefits more than once a week. Besides, I haven't bought any new "toys" in at least two weeks.

I wanted to know more about these marvels, so I did what any modern athlete does – I Googled them. Up popped Triathelete Sports and there they were – Zoomers!. (They are probably called this because they allow you to "zoom" through the water, and based on my experience, the name is perfect.)

I clicked on the picture and learned that for $24.95 – on sale now for $23.95 - I could purchase this amazing product which:

• uses a "patented short fin technology"
• would "promote a shorter, faster kick"
• would allow me to "work harder without overloading the muscles"
• meant a "high level of intensity can be maintained for a longer period of time"

I was beginning to get excited. Then I learned they came in blue and red, the red ones being "designed for advanced, competitive swimmers."

And, get this:

• "5-6% stiffer"!

My interest was really rising now. I read on and learned that for merely $8 more, I could get the newer, better "Z-2's" with

• A "patented angle and quick response technology"
• Which "supports a higher body position and better body roll across" a lot different strokes
• And that the size and shape "offer greater ease of movement, comfort and safety "

And here's the kicker: They allow anybody, of any ability "to transition the full power of their legs into the water."

Wow! By this time, I was really excited and breathing hard. Two thoughts zoomed through my mind: "Had I stumbled onto an XXX- rated site by mistake?" and "I have got to get me a pair a pair of those!"

You Never Know When the Lord Is Handing You a Blessing

2007-10-30T03:36:00.000-07:00

For months, a colleague has been training really hard for the NYC Marathon. Last year he ran it in just over 4:30, and I know he really wanted to be under that this year. He has trained steadily, and run regularly in distance races, like the Boilermaker 15K and assorted half marathons to stay sharp.

A few weeks ago he was 19 miles into a 20 mile training run - and he fell, hard. He got up and finished the race, but the damage was done. He cracked a rib and collapsed one of his lungs. An air pocket formed outside the lung, and it was touch and go for a while as to whether it would dissipate on its own, or whether he would require surgery. Turned out it dissipated, just like all his hopes, dreams and plans to run that Marathon at all, let alone in under 4:30.

Those of us who know him, especially those of us who train and compete, felt really bad for him. Most of us who enter races or triathlons have performance goals and we know that to reach those goals we have to log a lot of hours - on the road, in the water, in the gym - and that we all have to overcome the inertia not only of physics, but of our own minds. And most of us have been injured badly enough at some time so we could not race, could not train, and had to sit while inertia crept in again. So, we empathized with him, and wished him well and cursed the fates and his bad luck.

Then we learned this - while the doctors were treating him and trying to assess the damage from the fall, they happened to find a small spot on one of his kidneys. Yes - it is cancer. Since they found it early and since it is small, he has a number of treatment options, including radiation, laser and surgery, and the prognosis for a full recovery is very good. He had no symptoms, no idea that there was anything going on. If it had hidden until there were symptoms, his course would have been much tougher. There are no guarantees in the races we run, but in this arena, I bet we'd all rather be running a 5K than a marathon. We're pulling for him to win his.

You never know when the Lord is handing you a blessing.

We All Get Along Swimmingly!

2007-10-27T08:32:00.000-07:00

Been a while since I have blogged here - work, weddings, family illnesses and competition for the keyboard have all taken their tolls. It's a quiet Saturday morning now - the steady rain is keeping me inside, and the competition for the keyboard is either sleeping, out or in Paris (that would be my daughter who is abroad this semester). This morning it's just me and the laundry (behind on that, too), so I thought I would try to catch up.

We have finished all 7 weeks of the Stroke Improvement Class - I made it to 5 of the classes. I like going - I like the teacher, I am getting a good workout each week and getting better in the water and, of course, I really love getting together with my friends and tri team mates each week. We have all signed up for the next session. Before the next session begins, I thought I would share some observations about this one:

Aaron
Let's start with the teacher - we call him "Coach". Aaron says he has been teaching this class for 5 years now, and I think he does a good job. He used our first session - which I talked about in an earlier entry - to figure out what we could do, and who we were. Over the next weeks, he worked from solid "lesson" plans, but also managed to individualize for each of us. That's pretty impressive. Because we are all older and pretty self-motivated, we all talked to him about what we felt we wanted and needed from the class and he always listened and responded positively. Case in point:

You Show Me Yours.....
We all noticed during our fist session with him that Aaron has a piercing through his left nipple. The second time I saw him, Week 3 since I started during week 2, I noticed he had a bandaid over it. I asked him about it and sure enough, he said he was afraid someone in the class might see it and be upset. I don't know if one of his bosses had said something to him or not.

I have seen covered piercings before on young working people, and was pretty sure that's why Aaron had his covered. By the way - it is actually kind of an interesting insert - it's two small bars, one on either side of the nipple, rising up in a gentle curve and capped at each end with a small sphere. Kind of reminded me of the deely-boppers on a snail - a little different than your standard circle or straight through pin. Kelly and Dodie and I all said we didn't mind at all - with the women speculating more on the fact that it was probably painful having it done - for obvious reasons.

We notice that after that, Aaron just wears a sleeveless red lifeguard shirt during the lessons - piercing doesn't show, but he doesn't have to rip off chest hair after each session that way.

I had something to show him, too. No - not a piercing - a rectangular bruise, shaped just like a brick, located below my right boobie. Nope - it's not what you think - I did not get it the previous week's "brick" workout. I got it doing wall pushups on the side of the pool. If you are Kelly and are strong and have like 0% body fat, you do the pushups the way you are supposed to - straight up and down. If you are me and not that strong and have a bit more than 0% body fat, you kind of lean forward a little as you go up and down, and certain, shall we say, protuberances rub up and down on the gutter with each repetition.

Anyway, I told Aaron that I didn't think I should do anymore pool pushups, and that I didn't think I was benefiting from trying to swim on my back with the brick using just a flutter kick - and he was fine with it. In fact, he pointed out that he told us last week that we didn't have to do the brick, but Dodie and I, being good Type A's, not only did it once, but insisted on doing it again! Which was true. So - kudos to Aaron.

The Brick - Part 2
True to his word, no more bricks for me and Dodie. Until week 6, when we all learn that Aaron can be a little sneaky. During the week 6 session, Aaron brings out two bricks. Dodie and I are puzzled. I mean, Kelly has been doing the brick thing all along and is as seriously awesome bricking in the pool as she is out on the road. But come on - how is she going to cope with 2 bricks at the same time? I mean, two bricks together weigh about as much as Kelly does, soaking wet.

But, no - this time he tosses them both about half way up the length of the pool and tells me and Dodie that we are going to get them. But before I begin to seriously think that he has lost his marbles or his memory or both - he confesses: this time he wants us to use the back frog kick to get them in, not the flutter kick. In fact, he says the drill has been designed that way, and that everyone he knows prefers that kick, except Kelly, the Queen of the Flutter Kick.

Dodie and I like Aaron and trust him - sort of - so in we go and do our best Golden Retriever imitations and"Fetch" And sure enough, it goes pretty well. Then he tosses them in again to the same place and we go get them again. Only this time I bend over and pick mine up - not too tough since I am only in chest deep water - say, "Oops" and toss it out deeper. After I go out and get it and bring it back, Aaron says, "I thought you were afraid of the deeper water." I say, "No - only when I have to try to swim on my back with a brick using my crappy flutter kick and I am pretty sure I am going to get to know Davy Jones up close and personal."

I don't mind diving into the deeper water. In fact, one summer when I was a teenager working at a YMCA summer camp, the chef, who had been a diver in the navy, introduced me and some of the other staff to SCUBA diving. I liked it a lot. I spent most of my free time that summer snorkeling in the lake, and got where I could easily go down 30 ' and hold my breath for 2 minutes. Can't do that any more, but I would really love to get certified and go reef exploring some day - maybe in a couple of years after I retire. It's on my life list.

Different Strokes
Aaron pays a lot of attention to his lessons. We warm up, then we work on different skills and strokes.

Sometimes we isolate on the legs, either with or without the kickboard. Aaron: "Kelly, go fetch that brick, using just your legs." Kelly, "Ok, coach - but how am I going to get it off the bottom?" Aaron: "You have teeth, don't you?"

We also do sets of the crawl, the backstroke, the elementary backstroke, the breast stroke and the side stroke - either working on each stroke individually or in combinations. It's funny - each of us has our favorite stroke - and each of us has one that comes hard. For me, it's the backstroke. I have to remember to keep my head back and chin up, or else I inevitable get water up my nose when I rotate my hiops to the side for each armstroke. Usually I am able to breathe through my mouth and keep the back of my nose closed so I don't swallow the water, but it results in a lot of disgusting snorting and blowing when I get to the end of the pool.

For Dodie, it's the breast stroke. She says it tires her out. I guess she has never really done the stroke, and like everything else she does, she works really hard at it when that's the stroke of the moment. I find it a very relaxing stroke, but I was taught from an early age to count "Glide, two, three" at the end of each sequence, and I'm all for anything that let's me goof off a little. I think that resting is against Dodie's work ethic. Her frog kick has really improved since she started - Coach tells her this, too, but she is hard on herself. Here's a confession - last week when we were doing combination sets, Dodie and I were doing the breast stroke side by side, and I had a hard time keeping up with her - and it's my best stroke.

I'm not sure about Kelly - I think she is not too fond of the backstroke, but you wouldn't know it by the way she powers through the water.

Here's another confession - last week Kelly and I were side by side during the crawl stroke - just for jollies I tried to keep up with her. I went as fast and hard as I could - she was just gracefully stroking along - and I couldn't even stay close for one length.

I Love Flipper
Not the TV show that featured a dolphin (you old enough to remember that - or are they doing reruns on Cable's TVLand?) Speaking of dolphins, used to be you could eat dolphin at restaurants (poor Flipper!). Actually, dolphins as in "Flipper" are mammals, and a protected species - dolphins on the menu are fish - not the same species at all. You can't order dolphin in restaurants any more - they apparently got tired of explaining the difference and renamed the fish mahi mahi.

Flippers as in swim fins. I absolutely love them. Aaron introduced us to these during some of our legs only drills. Man, what a difference. My flutter kick is awful - my ankles are rigid I tend to compensate by bending my knees- which produces a bicycle kick and makes me go backwards. But, with the fins, I am Aquaman! We get to use little shorty fins and my favorite, the long ones SCUBA divers use. I can go so fast with these I create a wake! The great part about using fins during the drills is I get to strengthen my legs and go forward in the water.

Wrapping It Up
The 4 of us survived the session - oh, I forgot to mention - someplace around week 3 or 4, Al joined us. He's a pretty good swimmer and often gets paired in a lane with Kelly during the drills. He doesn't say much - well, it's really more likely that Dodie and I talk all the time - but I remember this: the first time he came and got a look at Kelly swimming he said, "What's she doing in this class?" And all four of us have signed up for the next session.

It's good to have it on the calendar, to know that no matter how tired you are, you are going to get a good work out and going to see your friends. We laugh a lot. Tough to do when you're in the water, but we manage.

Last week was open house for the aquatic programs, and a couple of people stopped by to watch. I admit to being selfish, but I like this group a lot and like the individual attention we can get from Coach, and from each other, so I am kind of hoping no one else joins.

I am pretty sure that Dodie and Kelly feel the same way - after last weeks class, my hair was taking a walk on the wild side, my face was red, and my goggles were askew and I guess I was quite a sight. Dodie said, "Take a picture of him." Kelly said, "Yeah - we'll show it to people who are thinking of taking the class and it will scare them away!" And it was one of the best compliments ever - I think!

Hard Core Bikers

2007-09-22T16:45:00.000-07:00

Jill
Jill emailed me and asked me if I had some time after work to go for a bike ride. I confessed to her that I hadn't been on my bike since the Pinebush in July, but she was ok with short, flat and slow. We agreed to meet on the bike path at Lion's Park after work on Tuesday. I was looking forward to seeing Jill again - we had trained together for last year's Pinebush, and I hadn't seen her since last August. Jill is a lot of fun to train with, another social athlete, and she is pretty inspirational to me. She runs 11 minutes miles - but she runs a whole lot of them, back to back to back. I cheered for her in June of 2006 as she ran and completed the Lake Placid Half Marathon, and not only did she run up that beastly finishing hill, she was smiling while she did it. I like Jill.

Rich
I asked my friend Rich to join us - he had gotten a new hybrid for his birthday, but hadn't had much opportunity to ride. We have done a couple of rides together, including up and down Blatnick Hill, and the 15 miles Schenectady Community College loop which goes down the bile path and back Rt 5 over the Scotia Bridge. Rich is definitely not a Clydesdale, and he was a pretty good athlete in HS - he was recently inducted into the VI Sports Hall of Fame for track. He's got bad knees know, but he ran 4:45 miles in HS - pretty good. We kind of look like Mutt and Jeff together. Jill thinks he'd make a pretty good triathlete.

I finished work at 5, and because we didn't have a lot of light left, I changed in the men's room before I left. Rich lives about 3 miles from downtown, and but it took me thirty minutes to get to his house because of the traffic. After I inflated his tires to max, he put the bike, his helmet and his backpack into the back of the CRV. and we headed for Niskayuna at quarter to six.

It's Got to Be the Goin', Not the Gettin' There That's Good - Nah!
We made good time until we got to Rosendale Rd, only to find it barricaded with a detour sign. No problem. We went down a block to turn at the Reformed Church, only to find another barricade and detour sign. At Mohawk Rd, same deal. It was now past 6, and I did not have Jill's cell phone number. I swung around and headed east on Rt 7 again, going all the way to Buhrmaster Rd and was relieved to find it open. We went down the hill turned left on River Rd, and back to Rosendale - only to find more barricades.

I couldn't see any reason for the barricades - and I was within50 yards of Lion's Park - so I snuck around the barricade, and turned into the lot at about 6:10. Jill was waiting for us on the path, sitting at the table in front of the old train station. Since she drives home that way every night, she knew about the barricades, and knew enough to ignore them, but couldn't call me because she did not have my phone number either. Apparently the barricades are up because they are doing a lot of tree work farther down Rosendale, towards the turn off for the Lock. The barricades are to keep traffic away from the chippers. (No - this is not Cali, so the CHP's http://www.chp.ca.gov/ and Poncherello have nothing to do with this story).

Back in the Saddle Again....
Given that it was a little later than we wanted, and given I had run a 5K on Sunday and swam, and jogged and swam on Monday, we decide to call this a "recovery ride", meaning we headed east, away from Blatnick Hill, and rode on the flats. Good call. We averaged a rip roaring 10 mph, stopped both coming and going to look at the magic-hour sunset vistas on the river which open up 2 miles up from Lion's Park, just after you cross the wooden bridge, and we turned around 4 miles out, just before the path headed down to the road and barricades in the stretch before the twin bridges. Meaning we did no (zero, nil, none, zippo) hills.

We talked a whole year's worth of catch-up during those 8 miles, and we never once put our heads down and hammered. And, miracle of miracles, we did not feel compelled to jump off our bikes at the end and do a brick. We will probably fry in Triathlete's Hell (uphill both ways, into the wind both ways, and HHH), or at least Purgatory, but I don't care. It was nice to remember that, in addition to doing the 2nd leg of a triathlon, my bike can also be used as a recreational vehicle. We had a really nice time. We are going to do it again.

I Am Really Slow

2007-09-20T20:28:00.000-07:00

How Slow Are You?
Yesterday I was out jogging with Donna and we took a short cut across a parking lot. I am so slow that the attendant came out and made me put a quarter in the meter!

A New Kind of Brick Workout

2007-09-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

When I Signed Up for Stroke Improvement, This Wasn't What I Envisioned
Last week Dodie, the "Fat Tire Flash", emailed me and told me she had signed up for a stroke improvement class at the Y and that I should come join her. At first I begged off, but after some thought, I remembered that triathletes participate in 3 sports, and that swimming was one of them. Since I had not been in the water since the Pinebush in July, and since I wasn't exactly setting the water on fire during that race (how's that for a mixed metaphor?), I reconsidered.

Which is how I was sitting on the bleachers at the shallow end of the Y pool at 7:25, listening to the nice young man tell the member that no, he could not swim in the closed off lanes, because he, Aaron (the nice young man) was scheduled to teach a "stroke improvement class in 5 minutes. But, since no one was there, and if no one came, he would open the lanes. Now, I know I am invisible to women, but ......... I may be invisible, but I can definitely be heard , so I spoke up and said I was the stroke improvement class he was waiting for. He looked at his clipboard and said, "You're not on my list" I explained that I had signed up and paid on Sunday, but he still didn't seem convinced. Then I said the magic names" "Dodie emailed me and and encouraged me to join" and "Kelly told me she might be here after her open house" Wow - worked like a charm! Wrote my name on the clipboard and everything.

He had me get in the pool and swim a lap using the breast stroke, while he watched. After I finished the laps, he said my arms were fine, but that I was lowering my left hip on the kick, and that my right leg was lifting up as it was going out, instead of remaining level in the water. He suggested that I try keeping my knees together as I brought them up to my chest, and to concentrate on starting both legs out at the same time. Great observation and great tip - it really helped and I'm going to work on it. (I do have to say that when I visualized his description of what I was doing wrong, I thought I should maybe be looking for a fire hydrant or a bush or something...)

Same deal for the crawl stroke - up and back, while he watched. He noted that I was crossing my right arm over, and that hands were entering the water on an angle that was a little too steep. He suggested concentrating on placing the right hand in straight, placing them into the water on a shallower angle, and on really extending each arm stroke. These were good tips, too, and I will be working on them.

And then the fun began. He said that in addition to technique, we (Kelly had finished with her open house and had joined us in the pool - he didn't look for her name on the clipboard! Dodie was still at her open house but will be returning next week - probably won't look for her name on the clipboard, either) needed endurance. Reminded me of the punchline to a joke about the wedding night conversation between a woman and her minister husband.

Anyway, to get this endurance, he has some drills for us - boy did he have some drills for us!
Who knew you could do pushups on the edge of a pool? And they are tough, too! We did laps with the elementary backstroke, and between laps, we did wall pushups. Then we did kick drills - on our faces, then on our backs, with the board and without the board. And - you guessed it - between drills we did wall pushups. Then we treaded water in 20 second intervals - first legs only, then hands only. We did this for two cycles and on the third cycle, a special treat, legs only and hands straight up out of the water. (Note - along with downhill on a bicycle, treading water is one of the few times when a little excess body fat is a good thing - good for Ron - not so good for Kelly, who has, like, 2% body fat)

But, my favorite was when he said we would do "bricks." As a triathlete, I know a "brick" as two disciplines back to back, especially bike to run. Since we are already in the pool, I'm wondering if we are now going to run or bike or what. No! When he said brick workout he meant we were going to work out with - bricks - 10# rubber- coated bricks, one for each of. I'm thinking maybe we are on the set of the "Sopranos" and he is going to tie it to my ankle.

I won't swear to this, because I was pretty tired by this time and I had a lot of water in my ears, but I think Kelly asked which one was heavier. To be fair to her, she probably had water in her ears and didn't hear him say that they were both 10#'s. Given our relative sizes and buoyancies, probably would have been fairer if I had the 10#'s and she had 10 oz.

No - he had an extra special treat for us. First we walk, with the bricks, to the middle of the pool. Then we each put a brick on our chests, and cross our hands over the brick, keeping our arms tight against our bodies. The he tells us to lean backwards into the water and kick, until we reach the wall. He neglects to tell us that leaning over backwards with a 10# brick on your chest means that your head immediately submarines to about 40 fathoms under the surface, and that about 38 of those fathoms immediately rush up your nostrils, making it very difficult to breathe. His solution was I should push my upper lip against my nose to seal off the nostrils - I can tell you that bit of contortion was not the solution that sprang to my mind. What's next - eyebrow licking?

He also tells us to lift our legs up close to the surface while we kick, neglecting to mention that getting the angle too steep means that you are propelling yourself not to the end of the pool but to the bottom. After 8 rounds of kick, sink, snort, resurface, blowhole and breathe, I reach the end of the pool. (Kelly struggles a little, but does really well and makes it to the wall long before me)

He says that he normally has the class do this several times, but taking note of my stellar performance - and the advancing clock - he says we (mostly me) don't have to do this again. Guess he didn't understand the masochistic nature of triathletes - even if they are SFT's like me. So - we go out to the middle, grab the damn brick and do it again. This time, it only takes me 6 cycles to reach the wall. Wow - 25% improvement!

At 8:15 he tells us class is over. We mention that he had done an hour last week with Dodie. He says yes he had, but then Dodie told him class was just 45 minutes, which it is supposed to be. I ask if he is ok with going the last 15 minutes. He is game and says he is leaving at 8:30 anyway, so, why not? So, we work on the mechanics of the back crawl, learning new ways to snort water, feel graceless, and torment new muscle groups.

When it is all over, he tells us if he has done his job right we will be sore tomorrow, and that the sorer we are, the better he will feel. Does that sentitment seem as skewed to you as it does to me? Kelly and I both thank him and say goodnight. After, we go to the hot tub - Kelly to soak her sore calf (from the backstroke kicking) and me my sore hamstring (I strained it during the first 3 blocks of my noontime run today) and we both decide that this was work and that we will be sore - and that we both like it and will definitely be back next week.

Time after Time

2007-09-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

Donna, who is my colleague, friend and training partner ( and likely triathlete next season) runs in a lot of 5K's, at least one every week, frequently two in a weekend, and every now and then, two in one day. She is strong and fit, regularly runs in the high 20's, and seems to thrive on them.

But our conversation after last Sunday's Teal Ribbon 5K http://www.caringtogetherny.org got both of us thinking that maybe she should cut back just a little.

Donna: The timing people here today are the same people who timed the DARE Race in Niskayuna yesterday

Me: You recognized the people at the finish line doing the timing?

Donna: Sure. And I thought I passed their truck on road when I was driving over here this morning.

Me: You recognized their truck, too?

Don't know about you, but the only thing I see at the finish of a 5K is the big clock and the numbers, and I'm trying to make it in under some arbitrary number, like, say, 90 minutes. I am usually aware of the chute, because there is usually one there, and I am vaguely aware that someone is prompting me to slow down (ain't that ironic ) and trying to steer me into the tangle of ropes and tiny little flags. But as far as I'm concerned, the voice is disembodied, and I have no clue who or what it belongs to.

When I get to the end of the chute, somebody or several somebodies want me to stop so they can rip the tag off my race bib (Maybe if I do this long enough and get really, really svelte and fit, someone will want to rip my shirt off - but that's more along the lines of a hallucination than a fantasy) At this point, I am trying to remember how to breathe, and trying really, really hard to keep it together enough so that some well meaning volunteer isn't going to say to me, "Sir, are you all right?" in a tone that means "Should I get the paramedics over here, stat?" Gees do I hate it when they call me "sir"

And I am trying to stand up straight and put my hands over my head, as opposed to bending over, grabbing my knees and begging my lungs to start working again, because my running companion Nick L told me what he'd been taught: that I finished the race, that I am a winner and I should act like one and not slump over like a loser.

Given all that, Jessica Alba and Jessica Biel could be in that chute and I would neither recognize nor remember either one of them.

So I am amazed that Donna not only sees the people, but she recognizes them, calls them by name and asks after their kids. Next thing you know, she'll be putting them on her Xmas card list. At that point, she really should cut back a little on her 5K's!

A Lot of Running Around, but No Running

2007-09-15T04:51:00.000-07:00

Brenda Deer, Sort Of
I planned to run in the Brenda Deer - really, I did. But, Emily wanted to get to Boston on Saturday to see her friends before she left for Italy, and she wanted to go to a BC football game, the only one she would get to this year. So, I did a lot of running around on Saturday morning, while the final packing and preparations were being taken care of at home, and off we went. In other words, nothing runs like a deer, but I didn't run in the Deer.

But, our very own Kelly the Quick, and Jenn B and Donna C did. Kelly the Quick took a first in age group and 4th overall (women)! Jenn B said the weather and pace made it a very hard race for her, but she toughed it out and finished in a very good time. Donna also told me the 3 H's made this a tough race: hot, humid, and THE HILL. She also had a good time and finished just a few seconds behind Jenn. You can find the results here: http://www.albanyrunningexchange.org/results/searchResults.php?Race=../results/csv/2007/0908brenda5k.csv

By the way, Kelly, Donna and Jenn are all training for longer races later this season - half marathons, Stockade-athon. etc. Good luck to them - but given how hard they all work, we know that their success will have very little to do with luck.

Guess What They Have in Newton, MA? (No, not figs)
While we were waiting to get Emily on Sunday, we stopped in Newton, MA, just down the street from the BC campus in Chestnut Hill. A quaint and lovely town, with public gardens, complete with sculptures, sidewalks and the kinds of shops where you can spend both the whole day and the entire contents of your wallet. We ended up in a pizzeria for lunch (2 slices of sundried tomatoes and caramelized onions for me) Gives you an idea of the kind of training I got in last week. But - even if I was not running, I was thinking about it.

Bill's House of Pizza sponsors a 5K! Who knew? And you know what everybody gets after the race? Not bagels - PIZZA! Wow - I may just have to check my calendar and make the trip. If BC is playing at home that day, it could be the perfect trip. If you are going to be in the Boston area at the end of October and want to check it out (the town, the race, the pizza or all three), here's the link: http://billspizzeria.com/

Coming Up Next....
Up next, the Teal Ribbon 5K, a benefit for ovarian cancer research. Donna will be there, and Kelly's husband, too. If you have the time, come on down to Washington Park and cheer on the runners and support a great cause. Here's some additional information: http://www.cbs6albany.com/onset?id=23523&template=article.html

Everything Hurts, And If It Don’t Hurt, It Probably Don’t Work

2007-09-07T15:04:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about coming to 5K’s and triathlons at the age of 57 is that I haven’t spent the years beating up my body with the stress and pounding of training and racing. Nope, I’ve beat it up the old-fashioned way, with sloth and gluttony, leading to way too much weight and way too little muscle. Now that old age is working hand-in-hand with gravity, I get to have (remember the old Doublemint ads?) two – clap, two - clap, two times the fun! So, let’s do a little inventory and then reflect a bit.

Hearing
Whadja say? .

Vision
Can’t see far and I can’t see near. Given me and mirrors, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – except when shaving.

Shoulder
I’ve got a bum rotator cuff in my right shoulder. Probably caused by eight years of coaching baseball, accelerated by the last two years. Jon wanted to learn to pitch guess who his personal coach and catcher was?. Took way too long before I figured out that if I was throwing back each pitch, I was throwing as many pitches as he was. He was 12 – and I wasn’t. The solution was to buy two dozen balls and a bucket but, like I said, it took me way too long to figure it out.

Now every now and then if I stick my arm out just right, the shoulder “freezes” and I walk around with my arm out sticking straight out, just like Boris Karloff in “The Mummy”.

Left Knee
Has been “popping” a little when I move just the right way (wrong way?) for years. Kind of figured I needed to do something when the knee went out and my left leg collapsed 3 times during a single slow walk on the bike path. After the x-ray and MRI, I learned there wasn’t too much cartilage in there (the horseshoe- shaped gaps representing cartilage that are supposed to show up on each side of your knee in an x-ray looked more like lumpy pancakes), and that the only thing surgery would do would be to clean out the knee to make it nice and neat before they replaced it. Not going there yet.

So, I got a brace and 6 months of therapy to strengthen the muscles around the knee. That was pretty much weighted ankle-cuff exercises for the 4 major thigh muscles, step-up and step downs, ring around the rosy on the treadmill (forward, sideways and backwards walking ) rolling around on the BAP platform, machines and stretching. Stretching was my favorite part – especially when the therapist kneeled on the table with me and tried to put my left foot in my left ear. A little kinky, but fun.

Seems to have worked – I don’t wear the brace any more, unless I am out hiking in the mountains, and my knee hasn’t buckled since then. Gets a little twingey every now and then when I am walking up hill, and a little puffy after a tri – but I’ll take it.

Back
When Walt Whitman talked about “I Sing the Body Electric”, I don’t think he was talking about that little electric zing that I felt cross my lower back about 15 years ago when I bent over to pick up a surge protector. Now I’ve got “Rice Krispies” back – every time I move it goes Snap! Crackle! and Pop!

Was in bed for days after that first little zing, not moving except when I had spasms - they were fun - not getting better. Needed to get seen by a doctor to get some muscle relaxers to start loosening up – but I couldn’t get out of bed. So, they came and got me and took me out on a stretcher. Don’t know if it was more painful for me or the poor slobs who had to lug my corpulence down the stairs and out of the house – probably for them.

Foreign doctor on call at the emergency room was going to give me a shot – then he got a good look at me, commented that I was “a thick fellow” – and doubled the dose in the syringe. I learned that muscle relaxers do two things: 1. Make you weepy 2: Lower your IQ about 50 points. But, they did get me moving again, and let me get to therapy.

Back is pretty much ok most of the time now, unless I stand too long, sit too long, ride in a car too long, pick up anything heavier than a toothbrush, sneeze or turn the wrong way – which could be any way at all. Lots of mornings the back causes the left leg around the knee to go numb. Most days this happens at work. To fix this, I bend over and try to stretch out my lower back and hamstrings, while keeping my legs fairly straight. I try to do this discreetly, as to not give the idea I am mooning someone, which could cause me to get brought up on sexual harassment charges – or propositioned.

The Cure
I’ve gotten lots of advice – stretching, strengthening exercises, tai chi, yoga – most of which I ignore. Who’s got time for all that? Besides, if I could stand up and put my head on my knees while keeping my legs straight – I wouldn’t have any need to have to do that! Sort of a Catch-22, don’t you think? ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catch-22 Scroll down to the section labeled “Concept” for an explanation. )

I have found out that if I move just the right way sometimes, I feel a little "click" in my lower back and I feel ok again. If I can't find the magic click, I’ve discovered the miracle drug: Vitamin I Yes, that’s right, all I have to do to overcome the rigors of old age and bodily deterioration is, ta-da, take 3 ibuprofens before and after exercising. Did you know they are a lot cheaper if you buy them at Wal-Marts in bottles of 500?

An Example
So, how do all these aches and pains and maladies affect my day-to-day life? Consider the following: I keep my key ring on a magnetic holder attached to the side of the refrigerator (too much crap on the front of it to put them there). Every now and then – ok, often – I miss the hook and drop them down into that too narrow space between the counter and the refrigerator. First I hear them drop – sort of. Then I try to see them. Can’t get my head in the right angle with my glasses on and can’t see anything with the glasses off. Then I have to try to get down to a kneeling position – remembering which is the good knee and which is the bad knee.

I reach in as far as I can, craning my neck to get every last inch of extension I can. The keys are too far in, and reaching out too far causes my shoulder to freeze up. I try to pull back, which tweaks my back, causing it to start complaining. I try to get up, but now my knee has gone to sleep, and grabbing the counter doesn’t help too much because my shoulder is also snoozing. I usually end up grabbing a broom and trying to sweep the keys toward me, hoping I don’t push them under the refrigerator. I now know why my parents have those gizmos (apple pickers?) with the grippers at one end and the squeeze handles at the other all over their apartment.

Back to the 5K’s
So, since I’m such a wreck I should quit doing the 5K’s, right? Nah – consider this. At the 5K, they have stuff to eat and drink. They give you a bib, to keep stuff off your shirt when you are eating and drinking, and it has your name on it, in case you forget. They tell you where to go and when to start. At the end, there is a big sign so you know when you have finished, and there are people cheering for you when you do. To get from the start to the finish, all you have to do is put one leg in front of the other. So, the way I figure it, getting through a 5K is usually a whole lot easier than getting through the rest of my day!

SEFCU Foundation Labor Day 5k September 3, 2007 Race Report

2007-09-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

Something Old, Something New….

This was my 4^th 5K since I started running them in early July. While there were plenty of new things to observe from my usual spot at the back of the pack, many of the sights and sounds are becoming familiar and almost comfortable.

Volunteers with SEFCU shirts and international orange flags waved me into what used to be the Washington Avenue lot, where I used to catch the shuttle bus to downtown and the Smith Building (http://www.emporis.com/en/il/im/?id=555536).

Everywhere I looked, sprites and elf-boys were warming up, nary a Clydesdale or SFT to be seen. Always amazes me that these people run before the race to warm up, then run the race, and then run after the race to cool down – my take on this is that they all either drink way too much coffee or are seriously addicted to endorphins, or both.

The high school track teams were there, too, from both Colonie and Averill Park – must be poorer school districts, because they all seemed to be wearing cotton t-shirts and nylon gym shorts - I didn’t see a single color-coordinated mid-riff baring lycra running outfit anywhere.

I picked up my race number – 305 – at the tent, and was impressed that the tear off tag had a computer printed label on it, complete with my name and vitals. No goody bag this time, though, so I couldn’t add to my growing collection of sawdust bars and chiropractic coupons.

They did give out t-shirts – but were out of XL by the time I got there at 8:40. I couldn’t figure this one out – I mean, there were like only 2 of us big enough to wear XL and the box was empty – but they still had scads of the XT (extra-tiny) sizes worn by sprites and elf-boys. Go figure. Maybe they were doubling up – you know, one sprite plus elf-boy inside one XL shirt? Since I plan to donate these shirts to a downtown food pantry which gives the shirts to those in need it didn’t really matter, so I got a plain “L”.

And, I always try to follow Coach Andrea’s very fluid advice – drink until 30 minutes before race time and then stop. Actually it’s more like drink until 30 minutes before the race and then “go”, which is to say there were lots of porta potties at this event – and the seemingly endless lines of people waiting to use them.

On Your Mark….
Having been to 4 of these now, I am beginning to understand lemmings. Responding to some unseen, unheard command, the mass of runners slowly amoeba’d over to the start line. I cut to the side of the road, walked along the grasss and worked my way to the back. Once I got there and scrutinized my fellow “back of packers” (BP'ers))– and tried to figure out if there was anyone I might be able to beat. Turns out I handicap these races about as well as I do the ones at Saratoga, which is to say not well.

At some point, the race director addressed us. At least I think he did – from where I was standing, and given my hearing, it was like listening to the speakers announcing the trains at Penn Station – I know some important information was given out, but I am clueless as to what it was. I knew he was done when the crowd started their version of the “wave” – applause that started at the front of the pack and gradually rippled its way back to me.. I have no clue what I was applauding for, but it seemed the polite thing to do. And then we were off.

Observations from the Back of the Pack
I love races with clearly delineated start lines, because I know exactly when to start the timer on my watch. This one had a very clear grey line - almost looked like duct tape (1000 and 2 uses!) – but probably wasn’t.

This time, the woman with the baby jogger passed me within the first 50 yards – in 2 minutes she was out of sight and I never saw her again.

Took the race-walker about a quarter of a mile before he disappeared from my view – too bad, because he was a nice guy and was very encouraging to all of us BP’ers.

The guy with the purple U Albany shirt tucked into his blue lycra bike shorts kept up his slow but steady jog and pulled away from me each time I stopped to walk – but at least I was color-coordinated!

By the time I had gone a quarter mile - down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill and around the corner to the flats – I pretty much knew who would be keeping me company, and who I would be trying to beat.

The 12 year old boy and girl were first – they were alternately sprinting furiously and then walking – I knew they were inexperienced and that they would quickly fade – and they did. Now – don’t go getting all sympathetic because they were only 12 – lots of kids that young or younger routinely kick my butt – see the results here: http://www.hmrrc.com/View/PDFs/Results/07sefcu.pdf Look for Patrick Hilt, aged 10, the son of friends of mine, who was running in his first race. Hint – Once you locate his time, to find me, keep scrolling down – way down!

The two teen-aged girls were next – they were wearing long pants, and faded in the first half mile.

And then it was down to the hard core BP’ers. (Back of the Packers)

Eline – 17 yrs old, an exchange student from the Netherlands, currently attending Columbia HS – this was her first race. We’d talk a bit when I‘d catch up to her – and then she would take off running. She kept looking around – just to see who might be gaining on her. More about her later.

Lorrie – petite, another run/walker who told me she didn’t run up hills anymore. She was 57, but her white hair fooled me into thinking she was older. We’d talk a little , too – and then she was gone. More about her later, too.

And for most of the race, 50 yards ahead – another Clydesdale. He was on the run/walk program, too. He was about my size – maybe taller, and looked about 15 years younger. He was with a young lady who looked about his age – maybe a girl friend. She appeared to be a bit faster than he was, but they were pretty much together.

A Word About the Course
Even though I had never run this route before, I knew the course – sort of. It looped past the Washington Avenue lot and then partially around the Harriman Campus, crossed over to the other lane and then circled back to the SEFCU headquarters. I’d driven the road plenty of times – the route was Step 3 in the “Teach Your Children to Drive” program, with Step 1 being the Washington Avenue Parking Lot, and Step 2 being the quiet back streets of our neighborhood. I’d brought both kids over to drive this loop on Sunday mornings when they were ready for a little more speed – 40 mph is terrifyingly fast when you’re just learning and the fastest you have gone so far is a blazing 20 mph.

But, you drive the loop counter-clockwise and we were running it clockwise – what a difference a "way” makes!

I talked about the first mile above. The second mile was pretty flat. The third mile, on the other hand, was not. Shortly after the 2 mile mark, like the South, it rises again. It’s gradual, not steep like the Guilderland Y, but it is steady for maybe a half mile. By someplace in the middle of it, me and Eline and Lorrie and the other guy and his friend were pretty bunched up and doing a lot of walking.

Back to the Race
And then I got perverse. I figured that with all that hill training with Dorie and Donna and Maria, I’d give it a go – and I did. It wasn’t the world’s fastest run, but I caught Eline and Lorrie, and finally, the other big guy. I stayed ahead of them down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill to the final approach. Up ahead, on the right, were a bunch of people cheering and taking my picture – oh, wait – they weren’t cheering for me, or taking my picture – they were cheering for Eline! She crested the hill and put on a burst of speed and flew by me – and there was no way I could keep up with her, even downhill. She beat me by over a minute – and picked up all that time on me over the last quarter mile.

To add insult to injury, Lorrie, Ms “I Don’t Run Up Hills Anymore” apparently had no such qualms about downhills – and she pulled ahead of me and beat me to the finish line, too.

But – I was the faster of the two BP’er Clydesdales – not by much, but by enough.

39:46 by my watch, 487 out of 528 finishers – not a PB, but not a PW (is there such a term?) either. True confession: I had neither the legs, the lungs, nor the guts to stay with or catch Eline and Lorrie. They outsmarted me and outran me - good for them, not so good for me.

And for Your Post Race Dining Pleasure
Bottles of water, oranges, and bagels – bagel pieces, actually. I guess the sprites and elf boys can’t eat a whole bagel, so they broke them into small pieces, you know, like the loaves and the fishes. I know you are supposed to carb up after a race – that the optimum time post- exercise for glycogen replacement is 1 hr. after the end of the race. It’s just that my carb of choice would probably be manufactured by Mr. Adams (Sam Adams, that is) not Mr. Breugger. So I skipped both the snacks and the award ceremony and went to see Duncan (Mr. Donut to you), where I had both the loaf and the fish ( a complete bagel with salmon cream cheese) and washed it down with a cup of coffee – with cream. Which is why I am neither a sprite, nor an elf boy!

Next Race: Saturday, September 8, the Brenda Deer Memorial Run at the Guilderland YMCA. http://www.cdymca.org/branches/guilderland/Brenda/index.htm

Arriba La Loma Inclinada

2007-08-31T13:20:00.000-07:00

Running Is as Easy as 1-2-3
I've been reading up on this running stuff and I guess I just didn't know it was so easy to get better. Apparently all I have to do is practice 3 simple techniques:

1. Long Slow Distance
Also called LSD, which really appeals to the latent hippy in me. Basically just jogging really really slowly for longer and longer distances. How slow? Slow enough so I can talk to my running partner. Assuming he or she hasn't been lulled or bored to sleep by the incredibly slow pace I set. How far - aim for a 10% increase in distance on one day a week. Slow pace and talking - can you see why this is my favorite technique?

2. Intervals
Let's see - walk or jog until you are warmed up. Then run as fast as you can for some time or distance. This cause your legs to both burn and feel like concrete, and your lungs to both burn and collapse - Breathing at the end of one of these little sprints is kind of like trying to suck air though a ping pong ball caught in the back of your throat. Walk or jog until you can almost breathe, and then do it again - multiple times. The trick is to sprint farther or longer, to rest less and to do more sprints. This is supposed to increase your VO2 max or some such thing and make you a better runner. Let's see - running fast and no talking - can you guess how I feel about intervals? Also supposed to be done once a week.

3. Hills
Find something steep - run up it. They're kidding, right? Nope - this is supposed to increase both your leg strength and your cardio-vascular fitness. There are supposedly four stages to mastering this - First - you walk up the hill. Second, you jog, but very slowly up the hill. Third, you run, but at a pace slower than your normal "running-on-the flat" pace. Fourth you run up the hill at the same pace as - or at a slightly quicker pace than - your normal running pace. Oh and as you do this more often, you are supposed to pick steeper hills, go faster and then find more hills so you can do it again - in the same workout! Who invents this stuff - the Marquis De Sade?

Arriba La Loma Inclinada - or - What I Did on My Day Off
I have signed up for the Brenda Deer Memorial Road Race http://www.cdymca.org/branches/guilderland/Brenda/index.htm , a benefit in her name for children touched by a life threatening illness. which will be run on September 8th on the course at the Guilderland YMCA.. Those of you familiar with the Pinebush (PB) Triathlon know this as the run part after the bike part at the end of the tri. You know, the "3.25 mile so it's longer than a 5K and it finishes up that god awful .3 mile-long hill which gets steeper as you go up it and even then you ain't done cause you have to run around the corner and sprint to the back of the parking lot where the actual finish line is" course. Yeah - that one.

You know what Coach Andrea says - " Be the hill" wait - scratch that - that was a Zen Master in some dumb movie I watched way too late at night. "To lose your fear of the hill - run the hill" So that's what I did today, with the help of my friend and running partner, Maria.

First, walk to warm up - across the street from the Y, onto Mercy Care Lane, which we know as the T2 chute during the PB, and over to Western Ave and then back again. Watching the health care workers from the nursing home out on break - (did you know there was a nursing home located in that stretch? Not me - only time I have been in there was coming in off the bike route on the PB, and the only thing I'm looking at is the bike racks) - and they are smoking. Maria wonders how health care workers could smoke - I do, too, but I used to smoke and I understand the addiction. Stretch when we are back to the start line - back, hammies. Then off at an easy jog.

Down the hill on Winding Brook Drive, through the middle of the apartment complex, over to the chain that blocks the traffic on Nott Road from getting into the apartment complex, turn around there and head back, finishing at the top of the hill, 1 mile in all. Jogged the whole thing without stopping - yep, a stage 2 approach to the hill. Caught my breath.

Aside: What I Learned from Little Slick Nick
Two weeks ago I ran this course with Nick, who was my son's best friend growing up. He's 23 and he and his long-time girl friend just went in different directions. Let's just say that she started the trip before he knew there even going to be a trip. Anyway, to his credit, he quit his job and moved to Blacksburg, Virginia, where he got an apartment with a friend, got another job and starting getting on with his life. And running - you know, for the health benefits, including attracting young lovelies. Anyway, he was back in town for a wedding a couple of weeks ago and graciously agreed to go running with me early on the morning of the wedding. He's a 9-minute miler now, and most of that beer gut is gone, so I guess there is hope for me if I keep this up - although he is 35 years younger than me.

This is what he taught me: When you run up a hill, the tendency is to lean forward. This compresses your diaphragm and makes it harder to breathe. The solution is to stand up straighter when you run up hills, which opens up the chest and diaphragm and makes it easier to breathe. "Easier" being a relative word in this case. Bad thing about this technique? It also lets you know how really steep the hill is and how far, far away the fire hydrant that marks the top of the hill is, because you know you've been plodding along with your head down and your eyes closed and you've been lying to yourself about how much of the blasted hill you had left!

Back to the Training with Maria
After the first loop, we walk up the T2 chute again, half way to Western Ave this time, come back and stretch again. Then we go run the entire course, which Maria has never seen before.

We go down the hill and past the apartments and onto Nott Road road, jogging easily and talking. We run along the flats and then we get to the left turn up iCampus club Drive into the neighborhood. As we make the turn , I tell Maria, "There's the first 'la loma inclinada'" - Maria is from Ecuador and one of the things I like about running with her is that I get to dust off my Spanish and to learn some new words, too. La loma inclinada is "steep hill" and arriba la loma inclinada is "go up the steep hill" (You were wondering when I would get around to explaining that, right?)

But Maria, just to bust me, says "Donde esta la loma? ( pretty much, 'What hill, you wimp' - well, she left the wimp part out but she may very well have been thinking it! Actually, probably not, since she is so nice) And you know what - that hill is not nearly so steep as it was when I started all this last year, or even as steep as it was in May, when Coach Andrea got us all going again.

So, up the hill and left onto Hiawatha Drive, which marks the half way point, around the loop and back onto Campus Club, down the hill, right onto Nott Road and along the flats again, heading for the finish. Walking more on the way in, but stage 2 jogging without stopping up The Hill one more time, and around the corner and into the parking lot and the true finish line this time. And we are done with las lomas inclinadas and done with our workout.

So Brenda Deer Memorial Road Race course, this is what I say to you, "Arriba la loma inclinada!" (Easy to talk big when it's still 8 days away, isn't it?)

Here We Go!

2007-08-31T03:58:00.000-07:00

At the age of 45 - 13 and a half years ago - I weighed 300 pounds and was a certified couch potato. At 5'11", my BMI was almost as high as my age. Then I discovered cross country skiing.

My first attempt, on a local golf course, was a little frustrating, more than a little humiliating - and, in the end, liberating. But that's a story for another time. It lead to 11 wonderful years of skiing, mostly at Lapland Lake, which may be as close to heaven as I ever get (http://laplandlake.com/).

I began to lose weight and started to feel better and at the end of the season, looked for something I could continue to do. After a brief flirtation with the idea of roller skis, I decided on biking. That led me to Plaine's ( http://plaines.com/index.cfm ) a Giant brand "Acapulco" mountain bike with fat tires, and the discovery of the by-products of regular vigorous exercise, good and bad, including stronger muscles, better endurance - and a sore butt. More importantly, it led me to Duane, my wonderful 73 yr old neighbor: diminutive, fit, talented, bright and one of the nicest people I have ever met. He had been riding solo all over the Capitol District ( http://www.albanyny.org/home.aspx) for many years, and he became my guide, companion and friend.

We rode regularly for 4 years, and I saw places I never imagined were in the Capitol District - did you know there is a buffalo farm just off Rt 9 south of Albany? ( http://www.gemfarmsbuffalo.com/ ) - and I got fit enough to ride a "Century" ( http://webmhcc.org/rn/index.php ) - 100 miles in under 12 hours.

My journey has included 7 years of Step Aerobics ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Step_aerobics ), climbing all the 46 High Peaks in the Adirondacks ( http://www.adk46r.org/ ), sprint triathlons - forget Hawaii and the Kona - that's an Ironman Tri, the epitome of the sport and way, way beyond me - sprints are much more manageable ( http://www.ehow.com/how_3507_measure-triathlon.html ), and most recently, running 5K's. To be honest, I have been participating in 5K's, running is an overstatement at this time - and more or less using the Couch to 5K plan of jog/walk ( http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml ) so I can eventually run the entire distance.

Along the way, I have learned two things about exercise: 1.) It has to be something I like; 2.) I have to be doing it with people I like. Although I am thinner and a lot more fit than when I started all this, I am still overweight and very, very slow. I am never going to win any medals or awards - age group or not - so I look for something other than glory in all this, and believe me, as slow a I am, I have a lot of time to look!

So, I am a Social Athlete - thanks to my friend and training partner Dorie for coining the term. I like the activities and the events, and I like (mostly) the training and the challenges. I like setting tough goals - seems I'm not happy if I don't have a "Project". But what I really like is meeting and interacting with all the people along the way - that's the best part. Running became a whole lot more fun when I got fit enough to be able to talk with my friends while I was jogging - this makes Long Slow Distance workouts my favorites.

Which brings me around to this blog. One of the requirements of becoming a 46er is that you write regularly to an assigned "correspondent" about your hikes and experiences. The idea is to get you to pay attention and focus on your experiences while you are hiking and to avoid rushing through just to "bag" the peaks. In the course of doing this, I discovered the joys of writing again. As an English major in college, I kept journals at various times, and I enjoyed the experience, but had gotten away from it. The 46ers got me back into it, and I have continued to write about my experiences with triathlons and 5K's.

Because I am very, very slow, I have lots of time while I am out on the course to observe and remember things. Because I will talk to anyone, anywhere, at any time about anything, I get to meet a lot of nice and interesting people - a surprising number of them talk to me about all kinds of things. I have a pretty good memory, and after a while, all these things get distilled and filtered by time and I write them down.

Until now, I have shared my pieces, mostly with my training partners and companions, but also with my family and friends, through emails. From the feedback I get, I know that I've been able to bring a smile or laugh to people, and every now and the descriptions of my experiences spark memories or reactions in them, too.

But many people these days are in email jail - and don't have the time to read an entire email, especially a detailed one, even if they would like to. So - I am going to continue to write about my experiences and to share them with my friends, family and partners - but I will do it here. I will send a simple email notification after I post - and they can choose to come over and read about what I've been up to when they have the time and inclination. Maybe they will even stop by if they are curious, and maybe they will post a comment or two while they are here.

I hope you are one of them. r.