Month: August 2011

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What Would You Run For?

We didn’t have enough to do in our lives, sitting around on the couch and eating bonbons, so we decided to sign up for a half-marathon and train to run it “fast”. Because we both do a much better job of sticking to our workout regiments when we have an event to train for, this seemed like a reasonable plan. The first step was to decide which race to sign up for. We chose the California Wine Country Half-Marathon because it has the word WINE in it. And one of the major sponsors is Kendall-Jackson, which beats the hell out of any race sponsored by Gatorade (gag) or Crystal Geyser. Also, this:

“A post race wine and beer tent will be set up at the finish line. Several Sonoma County Wineries and local Breweries will be pouring samples for the athletes. A race logo wine glass will be included with your entry fee.”

YES, I WILL RUN FOR WINE. The non-runners are thinking “You’re an idiot. You could drive to the wineries and get samples without running 13.1 miles.” Yes, but I wouldn’t get the fake crystal race logo wine glass and the ambience of a giant tent with ripe sweaty runners. And I’d miss the wine tasting banter: “This Chardonnay is buttery with hints of male perspiration and a leading anti-chafe balm”. MMMMM.

But everybody isn’t as motivated by the words “wine and beer tent” as I am. That’s what makes the world go ‘round. One man’s Cabernet Sauvignon is another man’s Budweiser in a can. Or something like that. If there were a “chocolate cake tent” at the finish, Bev would crush her personal best time and injure a few runners along the way. Pity the poor people who get between Bev and chocolate cake. Actually, the perfect pairing would be a chocolate cake and dessert wine tent. I shall suggest this to the sponsors!

We also thought this would be a perfect race to run FAST, thinking that it would be a flat course. In fact, when we signed up, we were excited about the blistering pace that we would set. Then we found the elevation profile. CRAP.

That does not look like “flat”.

THIS would be a flat course.

But then we’d have to run in San Antonio, Texas. And I’m pretty sure that there won’t be a wine and beer tent with local wineries and breweries pouring samples at the finish. But they might have BBQ. YES, I WILL RUN FOR TEXAS BBQ.

Once we decided on a not-really-flat-but-has-a-wine and beer tent-half-marathon, we hired our coach. She’s a woman who gets results by knowing how to push her clients to the point of near death. She gives us our training runs in two-week increments, then discusses the results before cooking up a new batch of customized torture. The arrival of her bi-weekly emails are greeted with joyful sounds loud curses and a whole lot of “she’s got to be F-ing kidding”. Then we figure out how to fit in all of her workouts, even if it means running in the middle of the night, because we’re afraid of our coach and don’t want to tell her that we chose sleep over a training run. She scares us.

Now, I know what all of you non-runners are thinking. Unless you’re being chased by an angry mob trying to force you to listen to Celine Dion songs, there’s no logical reason to run. Survival of the species no longer depends on man’s ability to run. So why bother running at all?

I suppose that’s a personal question with many possible answers. Some run to win races, others do it just for the “runner’s high”. I’ve run some races for special causes and late in every single marathon, when I want to lay down on the curb and go to sleep, I run for my Mom because she can’t. And sometimes I’ll just run for wine. Or BBQ.

What would you run for?

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The Battle for a Baby

The stakes were HUGE for the 2011 Battle of the Bay. While others downplayed this as a preseason matchup of two teams bravely trying to reach mediocrity, the destiny of an unborn child was going to be determined by the outcome of this epic gridiron duel.

The outcome of this game would determine whether Baby G (due any day now) would first wear 49er Red or Raider Silver and Black. If this were a game between the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Jacksonville Jaguars, you could say “so what – the kid’s in Florida and everyone knows that he’s destined to grow up not knowing how to punch a ballot”. But this was the Oakland Raiders v. San Francisco 49ers. It was Mom v. Dad.

Stop and think about that.  This wager, this simple act, would cast the fate of one human being. This would be the difference between a fine education or finishing third grade. CEO or PFN (Prisoner File Number). Owning a sail or paying a bail. Refinancing a home for a successful startup or mortgaging everything for season tickets. Boardroom fights or barroom brawls. Merlot and cheese or Ripple and fleas.

The tension was nearly unbearable. The gathered crowd understood that Baby G was in the hands of Alex Smith and Jason Campbell. No child deserved that, but this was the hand that he was dealt and it had to be played. With the game still in doubt late in the fourth quarter, the forces of good united against third string QB Kyle Boller, the former Cal quarterback who was once a first round draft pick of the Baltimore Ravens, but has since fallen far into the dark soul-sucking pit called Raider Nation. A local boy gone bad. But that would not be the course set for Baby G. Good triumphed over evil. Well, perhaps that’s an overstatement. A bad football team triumphed over a worse football team. 49ers 17 Raiders 3. Another child saved.

 

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There’s Something Out There

Running early in the morning comes with inherent risks. And by early, I mean at an hour that never sees daylight. Ever. Unless you’re running in the Arctic Circle in June. In that case, you’ve got other issues to ponder, like outrunning a polar bear while questioning the wisdom of that barefoot running fad.

Let’s review a few of these risks, the least of which is your mental illness. This may make you the odd one out in your daily life, unless you work in Human Resources, but with all of the sane people snug in their beds you are likely to see a few of your mentally ill colleagues out running at that hour. Always say hi or grunt at them. It’s the nice thing to do.

There is always a risk of being attacked by bad people. This is why I run with a girlfriend who can kill with her thumbs and is cool under pressure.

I know that she’ll always have my back. It’s just one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her and look forward to years of waking up with her, at any ridiculous hour. It also helps that she’s super smoking hot and running behind her makes me want to chase her all of the way home.

Sometimes I run with a few other friends, including a lawyer. This is risk management at its finest because even a psychotic killer understands the concept of reducing the attorney population. Friendship has its limits, especially when faced with a chain-saw wielding lunatic when I’ll be all “SHE’S A LAWYER!!!”

Cars are always high risk but I still prefer to run on the street and avoid sidewalks, choosing to take my chances with the local Asian drivers instead of cracked cement or uneven walkways. Yeah, I said it. And before you get all soap boxy about stereotypes, just remember – it’s not a stereotype if it’s TRUE. Ask any of your Asian friends and they’ll tell you “yeah – our people can’t drive”. And my people can’t jump. Some things are just that way.

On this particular morning we had everything planned out to reduce the risk of injury or putting ourselves in harm’s way. Run together, thumbs prepared to kill if needed. Pick a smoothly paved stretch of trail without cars, cracks or divots. Program the GPS watch to measure and time our sprint intervals. Park at Starbucks for easy access to coffee and restrooms after the run.

Everything was on target. Fifteen minutes from alarm clock blaring and feet hitting the bedroom floor to parking at Starbucks and running. We completed a short warm-up before our first half-mile interval, then GO! Twenty minutes earlier our legs were lazily intertwined in bed and now they were screaming “WHAT THE HELL?” as we forced them to run ridiculously fast for 1/2 mile. This was only the first of four intervals and I’m pretty certain that I heard my legs plotting to get even with me later in the day. Millions of teeny tiny mitochondria cells held a conference call and said “Let’s get the bastard who did this! We’ll stop producing energy!” They are not to be messed with.

With the first interval done, we walked a few steps on our 1/4 mile walking recovery when we saw something move in the brush. Actually, Bev saw it first. All I saw was Bev nearly jumping into my arms while trying not to scream “there’s something moving over there!” I don’t really notice stuff and there are only a few creatures I might spot in the brush. And only if it crossed right in front of me on the trail. After I passed the sign.

It’s a bit unnerving to sense something moving in the brush when the only source of light is a half moon. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. Rabid dog. Bobcat. Enormous man-eating snake. T-Rex. Celine Dion. What horrible creature was out there?

This one.

Add being fearful of Pepe Le Pew to the growing list of things to worry about when running at the hour that never sees daylight. Thankfully, we didn’t have to call into work with the lamest excuse ever: “I can’t come to work because I’m sitting in a bathtub full of tomato juice.”