Just trying out the new mobile posting feature...

Well, crap....

My last post was August 17, 10 damn days ago. I intended to post to this blog way more often, but obviously I've blown that goal off. Since then I've run three times, lifted 4, and drank heavily for at least 4 days.

My run times have been decently fast, but not long:

1st run - 4 miles, 9:31 pace (on purpose...trying to slow myself down)

2nd run - 3 miles, 8:30 pace

3rd run (last night after work) 5 miles, 8:31 pace. Although last night I felt pretty good about it because I'm running the infamous "negative splits". The first half I ran an 8:51 pace, the second half came in at 8:15. I'm planning on 8 miles on Saturday. Of course, I like to talk a big game and then lie about it afterwards. Much like my sex life.

I came the closest I've come in a long time to having an incident while running. And by incident, I mean shit. Something gurgley (if it's not a word, it should be) was going on in the gut, and between mile 3 and 4 I slowed to try and put the prairie dog back in the hole. I was successful, and he didn't make another appearance, but it was close there for short while.

Random observations...

• Paradise By The Dashboard light is good running music. Really
• Ipod earphones are quite possibly the worst designed earphones. Ever.
• Fugly guys can talk to cute girls as long as the dogs they're walking will stop and sniff each others asses.

That is all. Run Dog.

Good Boys

I have 12 year-old twin boys. Both are reasonably active in team sports, like to run around and do boy things, but they never got into Dad's activities, namely adventure racing and cycling. This was mostly due to the fact that neither is a spectator sport. It's a little hard to feel "Go Team!" when the team you're trying to watch passes by during a water stop for 5 minutes in the middle of a 12 hour race. I get it.

But recently I've begun taking them on my runs; letting them ride mountain bikes and hauling my water on the local trails. It's worked out really, really well. They keep me occupied with conversation and questions, they are getting some exercise in, and most importantly, it allows us to spend some quality time together. I appreciate their interest, and I tell them.

Nothing exceptionally funny happened during the ride. It was just a good time with some good boys and their dad.

My Garmin was dead. I thought I had charged it prior to my run, but apparently not, so I had the boy keep track on mileage and time using the bike computer. Not stellar, but the results of Saturday mornings run:

6 miles

57 minutes and change

9:31 avg.

Onward and upward...

Moon River

Took my first full physical in probably 4 years yesterday. And by full, I mean bend over and exhale. And by exhale, I mean...well, you know what I mean. She (yes, my doctor is a woman. Insert joke here) is pretty cool. Roughly my age, plain spoken, no drama. Made no big deal out of neither the "turn your head and cough" nor the aforementioned "bend over and exhale" portion of the physical.

Generally speaking, I'm in obnoxiously good health. Just not the fanatically good health that I've maintained the past few years. That whole job and career thing have gotten in the way of my leisure activities, so I'm having to relearn my training schedule. But I digress.

I was more than a little anxious when I showed up at the doc's office. They give you an inordinate amount of time to think about life, family, career...and the invasive portions of the examination. Which, in all honesty, isn't a big deal. Or not as big a deal as most guys would have you think. Hell, ANY woman on the planet would laugh in your face if you tried to complain about it. That whole child-bearing angle they bring up is a trump card that's hard to beat. Not to mention any conversation involving a speculum. I shudder to think...

So anyway, we did height (I'm exactly average, if by average you mean better than average), weight (below average, but only because I'm better than average), the standard life history questionnaire (drugs? no...sexually active? ummm...yes...alcohol? as much as possible...), and then I was told to undress and put on the gown, open in the back. Deep breath, slow the pulse...

The doctor comes in, and it's pretty anticlimactic from there: stethoscope, eyes-ears-nose-throat, reflexes, and then it's a short fondle, roll over and exhale (moooonnn riivvvveerrr), and we're done.

She looks at my left foot, and tells me it's not a wart, but a corn. What the hell? Put some acid patches on it and it'll be good in a week. Run away.

Right foot-toe isn't dislocated, possibly fractured (doubtful), but tape it and ice it, and as long as the pain doesn't stop me, I'm not going to be doing any long-term damage by running on it. Baby, I'm back!

Sister's birthday is tonight. Time to get my drink on, do a little dancing, then it'll be up and back on the road in the morning. See Dog run.

A Little Something's Better Than A Whole Lot Of Nothing

I still can't run. The spirit is willing, but my body is beginning to show the first signs of revolt. At 42 years old, I've spent the last 10+ years beating the hell out of myself with the attitude of "that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." Well, to a point.

I've got what I thought was a planter wart in the center of my left foot, and a possibly fractured middle toe on my right (too much beer on a lake day and a failed attempt at tying a Waverunner up to a sunken rock) is foiling my training schedule. So I did what I should have done two weeks ago: I made an appointment to see the doctor.

In the meantime, I had to do something, so I cut out early for a solo ride on Wednesday afternoon. While prepping from the takeoff point, my buddy Brett happened by, and chose to ride with me. 15 minutes later we were off on a directionless, convoluted route that involved much traffic and nothing but hills, all uphill. Combine that with 90 degrees and a less-than-regular ride schedule, and my heart rate was kicking. Garmin told me I was over 180 a half-dozen times over a 20 mile track, and we only averaged 14 mph. Like I said, all uphill. Into the wind. Both ways.

Thursday is the physical/checkup. No food or drink for 12 hours. I'm excited.

Rained out?

Seriously? Raining? I work about 45 minutes from home. Vanessa just sent me an IM - "It's an 'effin down pour here". Sun's out and high humidity outside my office.

I'm guessing Plan B: wine and apps at our favorite bistro. Oh well...best laid plans of mice and men. Better luck tomorrow. Dammit.

Accountability 101

I've been riding a bike for over ten years, the majority of the time pretty hardcore. I'd always try to log better than a couple thousand miles in a year, and try to average at least 100 miles a week during the warmer months.

I was a dedicated cyclist, and looked with disdain at those who chose to run instead of ride. And then in 2005 my family (sister, her husband, and my father) decided that they wanted to compete in an adventure race, asked me to join the team, and chose the biggest, baddest race in the area for their inaugural event. It was marked by catastrophe, not the least of which was the unexpected death of my father six weeks before the race. But that's another story for another post.

The end result of this particular race was that I've continued to do it, and have had to incorporate running into my schedule to be able to stay competitive. I've since moved on to other teams that are stronger and faster, and my physical fitness (particularly my running) has had to increase to keep pace with my younger teammates.

The story skips around a little here...I run and ride with the love of my life and much better half. She's done a marathon. I haven't. I have, however, competed and have done well in adventure races that have lasted upwards of twelve hours, and have required running in excess of 10-12 miles, in addition to all of the riding and paddling that comes with it. But I still haven't run a marathon. She reminds me of this every time I start to get a little cocky.

My motivation has always been to be the strongest member of the team. And herein lies the title for this first post...it's the team that has always made me accountable. I've always maintained a training schedule, HAD to maintain a schedule, in order to not let down my team. But now I'd like to run a distance race, preferably the full 26.2, and there's no team. And I've finding myself not being accountable.

This is where you come in.

You're job is to keep me accountable. I have to maintain my running schedule, and I'm not keeping up with the pace. Granted, I've had a couple of nagging injuries that are more than a little inconvenient (dropped a rock on my toe at the lake...it's ugly, and what looks like a plantar's wart on the ball of the other foot, dammit), but no excuses. I've got to do this, I WANT to do this. I will do this.

So that's it, in a nutshell. This evening I'm going to ride with Vanessa, and I'll let you know how it goes.

Thanks for hanging with me.

Dog