Houston Marathon - Race Report

So, This is quite long. Here is the short version: For various reasons, I pursued a pretty conservative race plan, but still met my overall goal of a sub-4 hour marathon (3:54). My legs hurt near the end, but I experienced no injuries, meltdowns, or similar collapses. Afterward, I actually felt not-too-bad, which leaves me wondering if I should have pushed harder. 

And that's about it. For a more detailed race report, see below.

The Plan

I have trained for this marathon with the "expected" race pace of 8:05. According to running coach Jack Daniels (no, not THAT Jack Daniels), that's how fast I ought to be able to run a marathon, based on other race times. I never really planned on running Houston that fast... mostly because that's the craziest thing I've ever heard. But I DID use it as my pace in training runs. Daniels never prescribes very long runs at race pace - he focuses more on interval training. The longest I ran near that pace was 15 miles (which is further than he prescribes). Still a ways, but my longer endeavors were slower, partially because I didn't want to overdo it.

Considering my training, I thought a goal pace of 8:30 was reasonable and that's been what I've been thinking up until a few weeks ago.

The Concern

- Two weeks before the marathon I was doing a longer workout on the treadmill (prescribed 12 miles, I had cut it to 10), and I felt sharp pain on the outside of my left foot. After the run, and upon closer inspection, I found that I had some sort of calcified protrusion just below my ankle bone. It was a big bump. And it was sore. It remained sore that whole week. I had only run 3 times since (and one was only 2 miles). Not anywhere close to my prescribed taper. Basically I went the last 2 weeks prior to the marathon without training at all.

- Monday (6 days before the marathon) I became violently ill - unable to retain fluid. It was just a 24 hour bug, but left me pretty weak and dehydrated. There was time to recover, but...

- I spent the entire week preceding the marathon in Washington DC chaperoning a field trip for a US government class. Lots and lots of walking, not a lot of resting. (And yes, I was sick on the trip. Not good times.)

- The day before marathon, I was feeling dehydrated (despite my best efforts to remedy this problem, I still don't think I was fully/properly hydrated for the race)

This list along with it being my first marathon left several unanswered/unanswerable questions. Have I had enough rest? What if I bonk? How will my foot hold up? What will mile 24 feel like? All these factors combined to provide requisite trepidation for me to decide to scale the pace back a bit. I would start easy, then settle in at around 8:45 pace and see how I felt late in the race, only increasing pace well after the halfway point.

The Start

I decided not to gear-check anything. I had a long sleeve shirt that I would wear to the start line and remove just before the gun… and other than that, just carry what I need (hotel key and credit card fit in back zip pocket). No phone. Much simpler that way. The only time I regretted this decision was for about 3 seconds when approaching the finish line, the guy in front of me spun around (while running) and snapped a selfie of himself crossing with the clock in the background. That's some nice work, sir. I would have fallen while turning around… and never finished.

Other than perhaps long car trips, I can't think of situations where I've been more obsessed with my bathroom habits than while training for and running in the marathon. Here's the thing, if you can help it, it would be nice to not have to stop for a minute… and *really* nice to not have to stop for three minutes. Anyway, I didn't really have to pee when I entered the start corral at just before 6:30 and the lines for the port-a-pots were pretty long, so I thought why waste time, I'll go stretch over here. In about 5 minutes, I began thinking "well, even though I don't have to go, might be prudent to queue up just in case." The line had grown considerably. I didn't check my watch, but in retrospect I'm certain I was in line within a couple minutes of 6:35. (race starts at 7:00).

The wheelchair division left at 6:45.

Then the USA Half Marathon Championships started at 6:55.

At this point, I very badly wanted to not be in line, but I 1) apparently never grasped the concept of sunk cost from economics class, and 2) after all that waiting… sorta had to pee. 

At 6:58 I got into a port-a-pot. 

At 6:59 I got out.

And then the gun went off… and I was running a marathon.

I would say everything about that 20 minute timetable is absolutely as ridiculous as it seems. Absurdity abounds!  

Anyway, following strong advice of many veterans (but mainly Jeff), I started slower than I thought I needed to. Also, that helped avoid having to dodge people. I just went with the flow and didn't think much about pace for the first couple miles. (In fact, my first mile would be my slowest until #22).

The Sound

I wasn't sure if I was going to wear headphones, but in retrospect I'm very glad I did. I had music on sort of in the background for the first few miles - at that point I was still very much taking in sights & sounds - a highlight being a local high school drumline during mile 3 - up at dawn on a Sunday. They were awesome. 

The half marathon doesn't turn back at mile 13, they split off at mile 8 and do another route. I figured stuff would thin out a bit there, and I would settle into a nice audiobook to occupy my mind. I was right. Things really thinned out on the back half of the race - further from the city and with a considerable amount of runners taking the half marathon turn. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of people… but more sprinkled about - certainly not lining the streets. After the split, I decided to continue listening to "A Path Appears" by Nicholas Kristof & Sheryl WuDunn - an insightful and challenging book about using evidence-based strategies to change the world for the better. I stayed with this until around mile 21 when the combination of reader fatigue, muscle fatigue, and depressing subject matter of sex trafficking (to be fair, Kristof & WuDunn were discussing ways to fight the scourge of trafficking… but it's still heavy stuff) had me switch back to music for the finish.

The Pace
Anyway, I settled into a nice little rhythm. In fact, preposterously consistent. Here are my exact mile splits for seven consecutive miles starting with mile 5:

8:40.4

8:40.6

8:40.4

8:39.7

8:40.3

8:40.3

8:40.1

ssssoooo… yeah. right about 8:40 apparently. (the next couple were :47, :37, :41 - a very consistent 10 mile block). After I crossed mile 15, I wanted to see if I could push a little bit and open up my speed. I would have loved to negative split my first ever marathon. Mile 16 was 8:29 and then 8:37 for the 17th mile. I wasn't putting myself in pain - I wasn't at some sort of limit (yet). But I also felt like "no… I don't really have it. I don't have the reserves to go that hard for another 8 miles." The last six miles were still an unknown to me. At this point, I'd only heard stories - that last 10k is the Boogie Man of running lore. 

All I really knew was that each new step I took after 20.14 miles would be the farthest I had ever run. I didn't know how my body would respond. It seemed silly to push hard for a couple extra minutes if it put my bigger goal (sub4) at risk. So I held back and kept my "comfortable" pacing (all things considered).

The Wall

This seemed to work well, and the miles continued to tick away. I entered the zone many runners have labeled "the Wall" (I have enough thoughts on this that it warrants another separate post). Different runners hit the Wall at different times and in different ways. Some as early as mile 18. Others much later. For some, it's a particular physical challenge (a cramping leg muscle for instance), for others it's a full-blown existential meltdown. In short, it seems, your body and/or brain just start to shut down. It's not healthy human activity to run this far, and essentially your natural instincts are looking for an escape pod.

I'm not sure why exactly (probably in no small part due to my conservative early pace), but I didn't really hit the "WALL" the way I've heard it described. Yeah, it was much more difficult at the end, and my time slowed disappointingly - but not drastically. But I didn't stop, or even really consider stopping. I've "bonked" before (in a Half Marathon - you can read about it here)… and I wasn't close to bonking this time. I just kept shuffling along.

That said, it wasn't easy. Jeff had told me he struggled with mile 23 at Houston when he ran it a few years ago, and I promised to get revenge for him. I was actually looking forward to it… I was going to DOMINATE mile 23 (mid-race I'm still thinking in my head "maybe I'll just throw down an 8-minute mile. 8:00 flat. Right there on mile 23. in your face, arbitrary distance!"). And then after that, just two more miles to go - I would basically be done. So basically, I get to mile 23 and I've pretty much finished. Simple.

Well, I get to mile 23, and I'm like "Here it is. This one's for Jeff! Let's do this! Legs… kick it into overdrive!"

… 

… nothin.

Just kept plugging away. When I say "nothin", I mean there was no response. It was like someone else was controlling my legs. I wasn't going terribly slow - but I couldn't quite keep it under 9-minute mile pace. So i just plodded along and racked up a 9:06 for mile 23. Sorry, Jeff.

I had some tightness in my right quad the felt like a potential pre-cramp, and similar tightness in my left hamstring... both of those kept me from digging any deeper trying to go all out for the last 5k. I doubt I could have anyway (see "mile 23" above) - but that erased the illusion. In fact, around that point, my legs were pretty numb, and really felt as if on autopilot. I couldn't really speed up, I wasn't sure I could even stop… just one foot in front of another. Perpetually. But as long as I stayed pointed in the right direction, I was sure I'd finish.

The Finish

As far the the euphoria of "I'm almost there" and beginning to feel better or more motivated… uhhh, no. I never felt that. Not in the final couple miles. Not with a spectator yelling "one mile to go!" Never. Even when I made the final turn at mile 26 and could see the finish line a mere two-tenths of a mile away… still no real "boost". Even crossing the finish line, I'm not sure I'd describe it at euphoric so much as just "boy, sure is nice to not be running anymore." Not until I walked through the post-race hoopla (medals, photos, etc) and got some water (which, frankly, was much much too far from the finish line) did I start to think "Holy crap. I just finished a marathon. That's pretty awesome."

So how do I feel about the performance? Lots of people have been congratulatory - and I appreciate it. I hit my goal and I'm proud of that. But I also am left wondering if the last 3 weeks had played out differently, I wonder how much better my time could have been. I haven't really eaten well since the beginning of Christmas break (that's code for "I've eaten like a disgusting pig for the last month"). In many ways, I was in better shape in early December. What if the marathon had been then? What about the 15 mile run I did at 8:10 pace in mid-November? According to my 10k time, I should be able to run a 3:30 marathon. Did I let up in training? Squander an opportunity? I don't know. I don't want to cast the wrong impression - I'm thankful that I stayed mostly healthy and hit a goal… but maybe this is me realizing something about running that I already knew about other sports: even when they're satisfying, they leave you wanting more. I don't know how many times I played a very good round of golf and left the course thinking about that one missed putt or errant drive. I know I could do better. But how much better?

Little platforms of accomplishment also provide us new vistas of what we're potentially capable of… and that keeps us going - pursuing a better version of ourselves. 

So I guess that's how I feel. I will give myself a quick pat on the back… on my way to signing up for the Chicago Marathon in October...

Progress

So, here's the thing... I like to make fun of myself on this blog. My eating habits, at times, are still laughable. Literally. But I've also been making steady health-progress since May of this year. I've written about it already in this space... but the progress has continued and I think it's worth pausing, reflecting, and celebrating. (Before going right back to publicly shaming myself.)

The weight loss has continued, and I would say I'm "done" as far as weight being a focus of my fitness. At this point, I'd like to remain steady where I'm at, and shift my focus to strength (still minimal) and speed (improving).

As I continue to improve running speed, I assume I'll shed a few more spare pounds... but that's a byproduct, not a goal. And the weight loss will not be nearly as notable as the past half year: about 55 pounds in a little over 5 months. I haven't written about this extensively, but there's really nothing magical about this weight loss: I bike to work every day, run 6 days a week, and try not to eat everything I see. "Work out and don't be a pig." Simple.

185.8 this weekend

I've only tried to "run for speed" twice... and failed both times. (trying to break a sub 50 minute 10k and a 2 hour half marathon). So I was hesitant to get involved in making speed-related goals, but once I started... it's tough to stop. Running provides such a nice endorphin boost already -- adding "accomplishing goals" to that is nice icing on the cake (even if speed is relative), and I love icing. Plus it requires varying workouts to get faster -- so that keeps things from getting overly monotonous.

Anyway, I set pacing goals for 5k, 10k, and half marathon distances that I was hoping to accomplish first semester (with maybe the half marathon goal falling in early spring)... but then I completed all of them by my birthday - in early fall. Yippee. So I needed to set new goals.

Thus far I've accomplished two of my four active goals (sub-6 minute mile, and sub-21 minute 5k). The two remaining goals are 10k at sub-7 minute pace, and a half marathon at sub-8 minute pace. 

And I've added one more goal: finish a marathon. I'll be running Houston in January (more on that later).

For now, I'm celebrating hitting a PR in my 5k... next time goal is breaking the 20 minute mark. But that's still a ways off. Also, just in case I started to feel good about my "3rd place in my age group" finish today in the This Run's For Jack 5k... I got beat by a 12 year old girl, a 13 year old boy, and three guys in their 50s. Speed is relative.

This fall, I've hit a PR in some sort of distance about once every other week -- which is obviously encouraging. Consistent evidence of improvement is a great motivator, and these little goals along the way have made great signposts en route to killing the fat.

For the curious/nerdy, below are the numbers/dates for my best times. (and no, that is not a typo... prior to this fall there is no record of Dan Nicholas having ever run one mile in less than 7 minutes). It's fun for me to keep in mind that in May I ran a 5k (not really racing but not really holding back) at 31:51... a 10:08 pace. Wow.

PRs:

1 mile:
7:00 (Aug 26 - as first mile of 5k)
6:19 (Sept 24 - as part of a "mile repeat" workout)
5:48 (Oct 7)

5k:
23:56 - 7:51 pace (July 13, 2011)
22:04 - 7:07 pace (Aug 26)
20:49 - 6:38 pace (Oct 19)

10k:
50:43 - 8:11 pace (Aug 21, 2011)
50:27 - 8:07 pace (Sept 13 - as second half of half marathon)
46:55 - 7:34 pace (Sep 20)
45:44 - 7:22 pace (Oct 5)

Half Marathon:
2:09:04 - 9:47 pace (May 20, 2012)
1:49:14 - 8:20 pace (Sep 13)

All the Donuts

This entire post will be devoted to my favorite of all the essential food groups: donuts. It seems apropos to commence with some romantic poetry, and then proceed to indiscriminate and extraneous thoughts regarding this divinely inspired superfood...


An Ode To Donuts

Oh, Donuts, you are dough
Fried and covered with delicious sugar-based flavors
Glazed, Chocolate, Cream-Filled
You're glorious no matter what
Although jelly-filled aren't the best.

What brilliant mind birthed you?
Such a testament to human ingenuity
Circular, Everlasting, You complete me 
Warm, soft, comforting, intoxicating...
I love you.

- - - - - - - - - -

Apple Cider Donuts

For the last couple months, I've usually been doing a long run on Saturdays. This takes me through downtown Wheaton, and past the Farmers' Market. The booth closest to the prairie path I run on is always fresh-made apple cider donuts. The transcendence of that smell is well beyond my lexical ability to describe. It is the greatest thing I've ever smelled. And I run by it twice. 

Each and every time I've run past it, I've had the same thought: "I should stop running immediately, and eat ALL of those donuts." 

Then I remember I have no money (I don't run with a wallet), and wonder what I could barter for a donut: "I wonder if the guy working that booth will take this GPS watch in exchange for one of those impossibly delicious smelling donuts."

Ultimately, I just keep running... and while I improve my fitness, a little part of my soul dies from intense sorrow and longing.

Last week, after conveying some of these emotions to my beautiful and wonderful wife, I was getting some work done on our basement when she left and purchased the very same apple cider donuts I had smelled that morning on a cold and rainy run! 

They were hot and delicious and so satisfying that I am still unwilling to rule out some degree of divine intervention during the course of their creation and/or my consumption of them. I love donuts.

the gates of heaven are made of fresh apple cider donuts

- - - - - - - - - - 

Gourmet Donuts

Sometimes at school people bring in donuts that are from a REAL donut shop. Have you ever had these? I mean, I love Dunkin or Krispy as much as the next guy (that's a lie, I love them WAY more than the next guy), but have you ever had REAL donuts from a REAL donut shop? The difference is like having a REALLY good burger vs McDonald's. No contest. 

Tomorrow, go buy some real donuts.

sometimes just simple "glazed" can't be beat

- - - - - - - - - 

The Bacon Long John

One time in Iowa City, I ate a Bacon Maple-Glazed Long John. This was the closest I've ever come to having my entire chest tattooed as the American flag.

my country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty...

- - - - - - - - - -

How many donuts do you think I could eat?

I've wondered about this question for while now. To a degree I'm restrained by the societal norms to which we've grown accustomed. I realize that if someone brings donuts to a meeting, eyebrows start to be raised once I've had 3 or 4... so I should try to keep it to only 5 or 6 to avoid any direct confrontation. (I'm fine with silent judging, I just don't want to have to actually face the imminent shame).

Anyway, without society's silly unwritten rules, I honestly think I would down about a dozen before I even notice. You know that feeling when you've eaten a lot of something, and you think "boy, this is the third gravy boat I've emptied at this meal -- maybe I should take it easy"...? I'm saying that wouldn't even cross my mind til I've finished the first box of donuts. Somewhere between 15 and 20, I think I'd start to consider "hmmm... that's a lot of fried dough and sugar. how are you feeling, stomach?" And then my taste buds would just scream "MOOOOOORRE!!! WE LOVE DONUTS!" and drown out whatever response was forthcoming. So I'd just keep eating.

Around the end of the second box, I bet I'd start feeling a bit sluggish... and potentially not super great. This would depend on how much coffee I'd have along with the donuts, but I'm guessing I start to slow down around the two dozen mark. At that point, I think it's no longer for pleasure -- it's a bit uncomfortable, and the answer begins to depend on the purpose of the question.

If the question behind the question is "how many donuts would I eat, uninhibited?" I think the answer is close to two dozen. If the question is "how many donuts COULD I eat (if I was pushing it)?" I think the answer is quite a bit more. I bet I'd eat another box... so I'm going to answer "pretty close to 3 dozen".

For those of you thinking I'm exaggerating... I'm not quite certain you are aware of what you're dealing with here. This, essentially, is my super power. And if you're thinking of mocking me for my predilection toward the greatest food ever created -- I am impervious to your shallow criticism. People always fear what they do not understand.

(for purposes of the above estimates, I am assuming simple glazed dunkin donuts, unlimited coffee, and a relatively loose time limit of "a morning")

The Culprit (Part 4): Generosity

(This marks another edition of my on-going series, “The Culprit”, wherein I investigate, uncover, and eventually rightfully bestow proper blame for my lack of fitness on others… because this is America… so it can’t be my fault.  Feel free to read Part 1,  Part 2, or Part 3)

It's been a while since my Culprit post... but that's not to say I haven't been properly shifting blame to those rightfully responsible for my nutritional and athletic demise -- it just hasn't been done quite as publicly.

In this installment, I'd like to finally bring to light (and eventually bring to justice) a particular assemblage of people who have been getting away with this sort of odious behavior far too long: the generous.

That's right. Generous people have been bringing me down for years! And I'm not going to stand for it! Worse than their callous "generosity" is the insidious perception of innocence it conveys. Well, I know what you're really up to, you givers of gifts: trying to hold me back from reaching my potential as a slightly-below-average-middle-aged athlete. 

Let me explain... normally it looks like this: I'm going about my day, minding my own business, and then nice people give me things.

It's the worst.

As you're well aware from the 3rd edition of the Culprit, I am terrible at resisting food in general and free food in particular. Many of the gifts I receive either include food or ARE food. While these food-gifts ("fifts" or "foofts") take many forms, the most perfidious version merits its own special attention here: food-gifts left in the teachers' lounge.

You may or may not be aware that I am a teacher - certainly a job replete with myriad rewards and challenges. Some people (naive simpletons) would have you believe that one of the "rewards" is the constant showering of gifts - especially food-gifts - that teachers receive. For instance, every Friday at my school a family supplies "teacher appreciate treats" and leaves all manner of foodstuffs to be consumed in the teachers' lounge. 

Cold-blooded.

And it's not just Fridays. Leftover lunch food? Leave it in the teachers' lounge. Leftover pizza? Teachers' lounge. Leftover panera lunch from a meeting? Leftover baked goods from a morning meeting? Leftover dessert from any function whatsoever? Teachers' lounge. 

Add to that the Friday treats, and little "extras" such as donuts to celebrate the first week of school (yes, seriously) and the picture is becoming clear: The teachers' lounge is a smorgasbord of nutritional imprudence. For someone who can barely resist food at all... and essentially canNOT resist free food, this is where the "generous" have defeated me.

The teachers' lounge is like the elephant graveyard from the Lion King... an elephant graveyard for my aspirations and accomplishments.

the teacehers' lounge... where my dignity goes to die.

And just like young Simba... I know not to go. But I can't help myself. 

"I need to run to the main office - I'll just swing through the teachers' lounge."
"I should fill up on some water/coffee - just a quick stop in the teachers' lounge."
"Time to head over to chapel - I'll take the long route... through the teachers' lounge."

This is a cry for help. I can't avoid that place. The free food calls to me like a beautiful siren song... and the consequences are disastrous. 

"Oh look, some generous person brought candy corn! I know it's essentially unflavored high fructose corn syrup and that I'm trying to be healthy... but I'll just have a 5 or 6 handfuls." 

[45 minutes later]

"Hmmmmm I wonder if there is any of that candy corn left in the lounge. I'll just stop by and see if... oooo! CAKE!"

But here's the thing. This isn't *MY* fault. You already know I have no discipline or restraint, and it's certainly not my responsibility to develop self-control. That's preposterous. It's your responsibility to stop providing me with such calamitous potential consequences.

That's right. I see through your plans, "generous" people. Now if only I had the will-power to do anything about it...

Plotting Assassination

I recently attended a leadership conference where a distinguished expert on negotiations was giving a presentation that suggested that we essentially have “multiple selves”… and that we’re generally bad at negotiation with others, because we’re bad at negotiating with ourselves. Interesting.

As an object lesson, she gave an example of deciding to not eat a chocolate muffin, only later to convince yourself otherwise. She clearly understands her audience. (I mean, I’d obviously choose the cookie over the muffin but why pick nits). 

Anyway, this isn’t such a brand new concept (my lack of will power) but a new lens through which to see the problem. I am TERRIBLE at negotiating with myself… or, from a different perspective… one side of me is apparently AMAZING at negotiations. And that side loves food. Insatiably.

I give you exhibit A: From this past week, when I was trying to be *really* careful with nutrition because I knew my sub-200 weight goal was within reach. So how did that caution play out when I attended a Cubs game on Tuesday night? After 2 hot dogs (I’m at the ballpark after all), I went for one of these:

maybe a bit bashful... but there's some pride there too

No joke - because of the angle of the camera, that pretzel appears smaller than it actually is. Also, as far comparisons... I have a super huge freak-head. Just trust me, it's bigger than it looks (and it's not like it looks dainty).

Now my love for soft pretzels has been well-documented here, and there’s no better place to enjoy one than the ballpark… but in ADDITION to the hot dogs and beer, maybe a normal sized pretzel would suffice?

Nope, give me the one that could be used as flotation device. 

Also (and this should not surprise you), it was not cheap. I feel self-conscious giving a precise number, but how about this: you could get an entrée at pretty nice seafood place for around the same price. So, I had to eat it all because I didn’t want to waste money. That’s just LOGIC, people. 

But seriously, there’s a problem here. It’s not that I sometimes am just barely unhealthy. It’s that if I go off track even a little, I’m WAY off track. 

In political science terms: I’m either a fascist police state under martial law, or it’s the freakin’ purge around here. I have no middle ground. 

Anyway, so how will I out-maneuver and beat this side of me in a negotiation? Impossible. He is brilliant and inconceivably convincing. More extreme measures must be taken. I will assassinate him. I am going to run him to death. You see, working out is the kryptonite to his superman. 

The last week of July (after the Tour de France was over), I started running more seriously, and it wasn’t feeling as awful as running normally does. So in August, I started a bit of runstreak. First by accident, but then once it was going I wanted to keep it going. After two weeks my shins were feeling a little tight, and I thought the novelty of it wasn’t really worth the potential for injury (it ended up being a pretty big increase in mileage)… so for the first time in 14 days, I didn’t run yesterday. But once I’m in better shape, I think I’d like to go for a pretty long runtsreak. I guess we’ll see. 

 

August... no days off.

Either way, extreme-overfooding-Dan is toast. I will burn him up… and from the ashes… a more moderate middle-ground candidate will arise. Viva la revolución!

wait... again?

In May, when I became fed up with being in such terrible shape (240 pounds), I put down some goals for the summer as far as fitness.  I started a 10 week workout program (more on this later), and was hoping to drop 25 lbs by the end of the program: July 12 (during the end of schools and a double-session of summer school… a very busy time for me). That would get me to 215 (math!), and the secondary goal was to keep chipping away at that extra 15 and get sub-200 before school starts: August 26.

In my mind, this would get me to where I ought to be (as sort of “Phase 1” of sorts), and I could move on from there to better goals than just weight loss.

I hit my first goal on schedule… and have been nearing my second in the past couple weeks. Well, Saturdays are weigh-in days, and I’m proud to say I cracked 200 a week ahead of schedule.

been about two years since that number started with a "1"

At this point, long time readers (or really those who have known me for a couple years) are thinking “wait – we’ve seen this before, haven’t we?”

It’s sort of like when you start watching Friday Night Lights and you’re like “wait, is this a mockumentary about Varsity Blues?” … because it’s the exact same thing. 

Yes, you’ve seen this before. And yes, it dulls the accomplishment that I’ve see it subsequently squandered in years past. So that brings us to “Phase 2” (talking about things in phases feels pretty lame… I’m not sure what better word to use. restricted by my own vocabulary. how ironical.)

Basically, I need to get off the see-saw. But how? 

If you’d excuse a poorly executed and clichéd football analogy: the “prevent defense” isn’t working, so I’m gonna keep calling blitzes. Essentially, I’m not going to sit back and celebrate my accomplishment… I’m going to continue to try to set and complete new fitness goals (varying from fitness goals of years past such as “try not to eat that”) 

For instance, being lighter helps you do things. Like, I can run faster (not fast, but fastER). Really, if this is a hard concept to grasp, next time you’re in the gym, pick up a 45lb plate (about how much I lost) and then imagine running with that strapped to your chest. See what I mean? 

So my next goal will be to run a fast (for me) 10k this fall. I already run 10k distances pretty regularly, but I'm training for speed now. Which is weird. It's the first time I've ever *actually* done that. 

Then I’ll need some sort of carrot to chase for the spring (to keep me working through winter – which is key). I’m thinking a destination half marathon. And then maybe I’ll try to run the Chicago Marathon the following fall. We’ll see how it goes… but either way, I’m not letting up. Who knows, maybe after a while I can even become not-embarrassingly-slow. 

- - - 

PS I'm not going to include much about *how* I lost the weight, mostly because it's a relatively boring and uncomplicated version of "eat healthy and work out a bunch"

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Mocked

In creating and (sort of) maintaining this minutiae of drivel in my own little corner of the blogoworld, I realize that at times I can, to a certain degree, exhibit a propensity toward self-deprecation… even self-judgment, But that doesn’t mean YOU can judge me. Don’t you dare! Don’t. You. Dare.

Especially if you’re trying to sell me food… which, aside from your judgmental insinuations, ought to be about as easy as selling a rearview mirror to a hummingbird! (you see… a hummingbird is the only animal that can fly backwards. also, I struggle with similes.)

Perhaps some backstory would be helpful: in July I watched the Tour de France, and they ran commercials for a (relatively) new website called thefeed.com which offers energy food for endurance athletes. Generally speaking, I like this stuff. I used to get it when I worked at REI and bring it along longer bike rides… although now I don’t really bike or run long enough to justify it. Also, I can’t get over how weird it is to eat while running… at least with cycling you’re already sitting down.

Anyway, The Feed also is supporting a 100 mile bike race I’m doing in October to support a cool charity (more on this later), and they had a free water bottle promo… so I figured what the heck. I know I said I can’t justify it like 3 sentences ago, but I’ll buy a box of stuff anyway. #muricka

I got a few gels, a few chews, and a bunch of waffles (not real waffles, but the kind that people eat as energy food)… because they’re awesome. Especially for morning rides (note: REAL waffles are also awesome… but less so while riding a bicycle.)

The parcel arrived promptly, delicious goodies and free water bottle all accounted for… with a nice personalized touch of customer service on the inside of the box…

The Goods from The Feed

Wait… it’s definitely personalized, but was it “nice”?

Who’s invited? Who’s invited?! 

Uhhh… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was gonna eat ‘em all myself.

What are you trying to say here? That I ordered more waffles than is reasonable for one person? … because I thought I was showing remarkable restraint. The only thing holding me back from ordering *significantly* more is my incredible stinginess.

Anyway, this sat open for a while on my counter, and every time I looked in that direction, it irked me just a little bit more. Who’s invited.

The Feed was turning into that obnoxious friend at a social gathering who is dropping not-so-subtle hints that you’re a pig. It’s basically a “hey george, the ocean called” situation.

You know that friend, kinda louder, and acts like what (s)he says isn’t offensive, but it sort of is though... They comment and remark on things like:

At a restaurant: “Boy, you really like the salsa, huh?” 

yeah, it’s free and it's salsa and I have a pulse. plus they’re just going to bring more after I finish it. why aren’t YOU eating more? 

At a party with a good cheese spread: “whoa – look at all that cheese! Ya bringin’ some back for a friend?” 

who needs friend with all this cheese. There are only two people at this party: me, and people trying to eat my cheese. 

At a family gathering: “hey Dan, isn't that like your fifth piece of pie?” 

Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know Comrade Commissar had released the new PIE RESTRICTIONS for this season! What’s that? It’s not 1983 in soviet Russia?! Then how about this: PIE IS DELICIOUS AND I’LL EAT AS MUCH AS I LIKE! 

Anyway, The Feed… the waffle party will be in my mouth. And no one is invited. Feel free to RSVP for the after-party. 

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PS - If anyone from The Feed actually reads this, your website is actually pretty cool. And thanks for helping sponsor the Fatcyclist's 100 Miles of Nowhere. Please feel free to send me free stuff.

PPS - sorry for ending with potty humor.