LENNY

Lenny Kasten died last month. He was 80. From my athletic life, he was one of the people that I liked the best.

I met Lenny when he and his family came to the bungalow colony, Lansmans, where my family and I had long spent our summers. It was the mid 1960's and I was a teenager and he a grown man of about 40.

Lenny wanted to play on our softball team. The team was mainly, though not completely, pretty young. Most of the players were my age or just a few years older. "What's an old guy like that doing coming out for our team?" I thought to myself.

After Lenny smashed a bunch of long drives deep into the outfield in batting practice, including some that rolled into the woods surrounding the field, I understood. He was coming out because he was going to be one of our best players. Lenny made the team, becoming our starting third basemen and cleanup hitter.

Here's the way many of our games would start. I would lead off and get on base. Either Bobby or Tony, batting behind me, would also get on (sometimes they both would) and Lenny would get the long hit that drove us home. We had so many big first innings! We'd just blow teams away before the game had barely begun.

We won SO many games with Lenny, made the playoffs EVERY season and won more than our share of championships.

I don't think Lenny loved playing third base, however. He didn't really use his glove very well there. In fact he'd often let smashes bounce off his big barrel chest, fall to the ground at his feet where he'd pick the ball up and throw the runner out at first. Unconventional! What Lenny claimed was that in his youth he was a fleet footed outfielder. He said that at my age he was as fast as me. Sorry, Lenny, I never believed that one, maybe because I could never imagine that you were as young as me!

We had a bunch of hot heads and crazies on our team who would provoke huge arguements and even fights with the oppostion. Lenny was not one of them; he was almost always calm and soothing. I only remember a single time that he got mad. It concerned a most unusual game...

...It was played entirely in the rain at the Friedlander's field. They were a tough rival and the game was very close and very messy. I dropped a fly ball in leftfield. I caught another that travelled through a bunch of tree branches that overhung the leftfield foul line. I stretched a single into a double and scored the tieing run...maybe Lenny drove me in?...late in the game.

And all the while it rained. The rain got heavier and heavier but the umpires insisted that we play through it. They promised that, no matter what, we'd finish. But then it rained harder. And harder. And it became very difficult to even see the ball. But we were batting in the top of the last inning with the game tied, 2 out, 1 on and me coming up. Conditions were near impossible, however, and the umpire, who was from Lansmans, stopped play.

Friedlander's was furious. They thought this was a ploy on the part of "our" umpire. How it could be I still don't understand. But, as a compromise, "our" umpire agreed that the game would resume the following weekend exactly where it had been suspended, that is, with us batting with 2 outs and a runner on first.

While this sounds reasonable, it went against league rules which stated that a rained out game should be replayed in its entirety. Arguable Friedlanders would have the competitive advantage by this ruling since we had only 1 out remaining in the 7th inning while they had a full inning to work with. If we didn't rally and score and they did they would win this important game.

And that is exactly what happened. A week later we travelled to meet them, took batting practice, warmed up and then I grounded out on the very first pitch and they quickly scored a run and prevailed. We had spent over 2 hours of our afternoon to play for about 5 minutes and get stuck with a loss.

As we walked off the field, Lenny said: "I've never felt more humiliated in my life. Never." And he kept repeating it. Never had I seen Lenny so upset. But that just made the rematch with our arch rivals all the more exciting when we met them at the end of the summer in the championship contest. And, of course, it made our hard fought victory that day all the sweeter!

The softball times that I enjoyed most with Lenny, oddly enough, occurred when we didn't actually have a game. Lenny, as many of the men, worked in the City throughout the week and came up to Lansmans late on Thursdays. Those evenings, after dinner, deep into the twilight, he and I and a few others would go to the field for extended batting practice.

Except I wouldn't hit. I didn't care about hitting. All I wanted to do was play the outfield and chase long fly balls. And that was certainly okay with Lenny. He didn't want to go to third base and take more drives off his chest! And he was way more than happy to stand in the batters box till it got dark. So that's what we did. He would hit long, towering drives and I would run them down. Sometimes he'd get a little frustrated because he couldn't get too many over my head and out of my reach. But, since he didn't play much in the Lansmans outfield, he didn't fully realize my big competitive advantage...the field was on the top of a hill that sloped downwards from the middle of the outfield to the surrounding woods. Hit one over my head and, as I ran back for it, I was running down hill. So when I tracked down his long drives I had the help of gravity. The sweat was dripping from my face, the bugs were all around and I was flying! Oh, did I ever love that!!

As good as Lenny was at softball, I think his best game was paddleball. I can not remember EVER having beaten him. Of course I hope this is only due to a failure of my memory...though I must admit it's not like me to forget many successes!

Lenny was a smart player, he took good position on the court, he could hit the ball hard with either hand and he could place it expertly. He chose a very good partner who was also smart and complimented him well. And the two of them shared another characteristic in common...they were both SO BIG!

The key to getting good position in paddleball is to get in front of your opponent and close to the wall. From that position you can reach their killer shots more readily and place your own shots more effectively. But getting in front of Lenny and his partner Sol was SO difficult. They were so wide and bulky that I'd practically have to run off the court to get around them and, in this fast moving game, there just wasn't enough time to do that. So I played practically the entire match behind Lenny...from where I could barely see the wall, let alone the ball!

But these troubles disappeared one summer when Lenny and I were paired in the Men's Paddleball Tournament. We swept away all our opponents without any trouble. The finals was an absolute route. It was just another championship trophy that Lenny helped put in my hands!

To think there was a time that I viewed a 40 year old as, well, old. Now I think of them as young! Whatever our relative ages, though, Lenny was a great athlete and a wonderful teammate and partner.

Championships have been a lot tougher to come by without this old cleanup hitter.

MY WORST EVER

The thing I like about worrying is that the worst worry you can think of never actually happens. It's like a lucky charm or a vaccine: Worry enough and you are protected and immune. I ask my patients all the time: "What's the worst that can happen?" They usually laugh as they tell me. They know how silly it sounds. They know that their worst nightmare will just never,ever happen.

Well, almost never happen.

This New York Marathon was absolutely my WORST. What I feared might happen (what I hoped to ward off by thinking about it the day before) actually occurred. That stupid spasm that I had in my left calf early Saturday morning just locked the muscle up tight. It ruined everything.

I did all that I could think of for it. I did the gastroc stretch, the soleus stretch, the achilles stretch, the stretch in my little rocking device. I used the stick to message it. I iced it. I applied heat. I used wet heat. I alternated heat and ice. I rested it. I walked on it. And yet, every time I touched it, it hurt. It was SO sensitive.

And so on Sunday I traveled to the Marathon start believing that I couldn't do the race. I didn't see how the calf could possibly hold up to a 26.2 mile race feeling the way that it did...sore, stiff and knotty. Now, marathons intimidate me in general. I go to them half expecting bad things to happen. But this was even worse. I knew in advance just what the bad thing was going to be.

History was not on my side. I have run the day after a spasm but the runs have been short, slow and uncomfortable. Things definitely felt unhopeful. But what could I do? I wasn't going to be a no show for the New York Marathon after months of preperation.

So Sunday morning I did all that I could do...I stretched for hours. I'd touch the muscle and, to my pleasure, it wasn't sore! Then I touched it again and it was. But not as sore as the day before. So the pain was either all gone or at least diminished. Either way it was an improvement.

Still, it was hard to be hopeful. The calf just didn't feel quite right. I'd jog a few steps. No pain, but still that feeling of things not being right. I'd stretch again and get a good feeling. Then I'd walk and feel something funny. It was all making me so anxious. I looked at my heart rate monitor, expecting to see a number through the roof. It was 60. Well, I guess my heart wasn't all jumpy but the rest of me was. I tried telling myself the worst wouldn't happen but I'd answer that it was just a matter of time.

The race began and I kept a long sleeve shirt tied around my waist. If the calf gave out immediately I wanted to have something to put on and keep me warm for the long walk across the Verazano Bridge to the nearest subway in Brooklyn. Well, it didn't pop but I was cautious as I ran up the bridge and especially cautious on the way down. Any increase in speed, I feared, would surely tear the muscle so I put on the brakes to resist the pull of gravity.

I made it to Brooklyn and felt confident enough to discard the extra shirt. There were now plenty of nearby subway stations in case I needed to evacuate the course. My calf held up as I strode up Fourth Avenue but I never felt comfortable, I never felt confident. Since any step could be the one on which the muscle pulled I felt apprehensive each time my foot struck the ground. Everything felt labored; nothing felt easy. I was slow to begin with and each mile split was slower than the one before. Nevertheless maintaining even my mediocre pace was difficult. My heart rate, in the mid 140's, seemed too high for the 9 minute plus pace that I was running.

I felt little twangs in both calves from time to time. Whenever I unintentionally sped up I forced myself to slow down. Soon my glute muscle and left hip area began to hurt. Other runners were going past me. It felt like such an effort just to continue. It was NO FUN at all!

And the rest of the run was just as miserable. Nothing improved. About the only positive I felt was a sense of surprise that I was able to carry on as far as I did. I negotiated the Pulaski Bridge as gingerly as I did the Verazano. By the time I reached the Queensboro my stride had severely shortened as the pressure in my glut and hip caused my groin to tighten. I felt it a matter of pride to run every step of the way across that bridge. Run? Well, let's just say I didn't walk.

I reached Manhattan and now every step sent pain through my calves. I was done. Only greater injury could come from continuing this forced march. I asked a cop to let me through a barrier so I could leave the course. "Do you need an ambulance?" he asked. "Just a bed," I responded.

MARATHON WORRYING

I'm worrying.

The Marathon is tommorrow and I'm worrying. Will I run well? My recent race times are, generally, nothing great. So maybe my training hasn't been enough. My groin has tightened up during a few runs lately. Maybe it will again...perhaps, as it did in 2002, so badly that I'll have to quit. And early this morning, while in bed, my left calf spasmed. Whenever this has happened in the past, my running was disturbed for a day or two. That makes running 26.2 miles tomorrow very iffy to say the least. So I'm worrying about all of this.

And, even without all these worries, I'd be worrying, because the Marathon itself is worrisome. I just can't seem to get it right. I never run as fast as earlier races suggest that I am capable of. And I never run the whole course, having to walk larger and larger distances late in the contest. I've never gone beyond 21 good miles and that was on the flat Disney course. In New York, 17 or 18 has been my limit. So I end up feeling that I've competed only up to that point; afterwards I'm simply surviving. Not very athletic.

My best distance run, actually, came in a 22 mile training jaunt that included a 15K race in the middle. It was a cold day in December, 2005, and I did 7 easy miles to begin, arriving perfectly at the starting line just as the race itself commenced. Interestingly, all those early miles were slower than 9 minutes. Once I got involved with the racers, however, I ran about 8:30 pace over the remaining 15 miles. As there was water available, I never stopped once. For 22 miles in challenging Central Park (though the course did not include the North Hills), I averaged 8:46. And I did that wearing or carrying a sweatshirt and without the benefit of gatoraide.

I've never run that well for that long in any marathon. Why? Easy, I think. It's because I've never run that slowly at the start. It's too boring not to mention too worrisome to hold myself back...I fear I'm selling myself short. But I pay for that misjudgement in 10, 11, 12 minute and slower miles much later on.

So I know what I need to do this time...and, of course, I worry that I won't allow myself to do it, that I'll just get too caught up in the excitement and in the thought that maybe THIS TIME those low to middle 8 minute miles won't catch up to me and do to me what they've always done before. Well, if I can overcome that worry then I'll try the slower pace and see where that gets me. That could lead to a really good result. Provided I've trained enough, of course. And provided also that the groin doesn't tighten and the calf doesn't pull. Because the marathon is a difficult challenge filled with lots of worries.

And then, of course, there are several possible problems with the weather.... :-)

GRETE SUCKS!

Well, a more honest title would be that I sucked at Grete's half marathon Sunday. Since Grete is highly unlikely to read this, however, I'll leave my misleading headline as is. Hopefully, my performance was the result of nothing more than the awful weather. Ninety percent humidity when the race began! I knew it was trouble when I stood at the starting line, absolutely soaked with perspiration after only a light warmup.

I ran 1 good mile and should have headed for home. Instead I slowed by 20 seconds in each of the next 2 miles, hoping I'd feel stronger. I didn't. I slowed by another 20 seconds per mile over the following 4 miles and knew it absolutely wasn't my day. From there it only got worse. MUCH worse.

This has happened to me before in bad weather, particularly during long races. Two years ago in Queens I ran a virtually identical 1:45 plus half and did one even slower once in the Bronx during a smog alert. The ABSOLUTE WORST was the 2005 Disney World Marathon. It started so early (6 AM) that we ran a long way in relatively decent conditions, but eventually things became SO hot and humid. By mile 18 it felt like the sun was radiating off the open road and into my face. By mile 22 I felt overwhelmed. I could not run another step. I walked my way to a 15:30 mile! That helped me recover a bit but it was an absolute ordeal to make it the rest of the way. It was the first time I ever felt pleased with 11 and 12 minute miles.

Well, the last 5 miles of Grete wasn't that bad, but it they did suck. Everything was over 8 minutes. I told myself it was okay because it was no longer a race but a speed workout. Not a speedy one.

Strategically, I don't do hot weather races well, obviously. Beyond that I'm hoping and trusting that Grete doesn't mean anything about my present state of running ability. I hope that is better reflected by my recent, excellent, long run which was easily my best this year and by my terrific mile race. But I guess we won't know for sure till my next race...and that could well be the New York Marathon!

RACING THE MILE

Racing a mile down Fifth Avenue was the most fun I've ever had in a race. Except for the parts where my chest felt like it was going to explode and those other parts where I considered walking off the course.

But the OTHER parts were great. Other than having to jump around an incredibly slow runner (wearing head phones yet!) who lined up right on the starting line directly in front of me, I got off to a great start. Too great, really, because I was keeping pace with runners who were too fast for me. I knew it but I didn't slow because I wondered what my quarter mile split would be.

76 seconds! A 5:04 pace. My fastest quarter ever! With the uphill second quarter next I knew I had to slow. I also knew that it was physically impossible forme not to. And that it was so uncomfortable that I didn't want to continue like this. So I slowed. But I didn't exactly mean to slow by 16 seconds! 92.5 seconds for the second quarter. Well, that's 2:48.5 for half a mile, also my fastest ever. I knew then that this would be a good race. After all, my goal was just to break 6 minutes. Now I knew I would and that I'd do better.

The third quarter was downhill. The only runner near me pulled away. I didn't care. Other runners were far ahead. I assumed there were a bunch behind me. Again, I didn't care. The race was just with me and the intense pain I felt. Of course I didn't know it, but my heart rate had already reached what I believed was my 164 beat per minute maximum towards the end of the first half mile. Now it had moved beyond even that, eventually peaking at 167. How could I maintain my pace in this ultra max state? How could I not slow down and limit the intense discomfort? On the other hand, how could I do anything to screw up this terrific time I was running? There was less than 10 city blocks to go. Surely....

I did 87.6 for the third quarter. Not good in itself, but plenty good enough to ensure a sub 6 minute finish. On the final quarter I could not speed up. Even as I passed the 200 meter to go sign I couldn't kick. Truthfully, I didn't want to. I just wanted it to end. My legs were concrete. But I saw the clock at the finish line and it was still under 5:50. I pushed to get in before it could change. Now I wanted to speed up. I tried, but I have no idea if I actually did. My final quarter was 92.4, so I probably didn't! Not good, really, but the absolute best I could do then, of that I have no doubt.

I finished in 5:48.5! I smashed 6 minutes! I surpassed my 2002 performance of 5:54! Five years older, 6 seconds faster! I broke 5:50! And, don't forget, I actually started in the second row and was slowed at the start. My age graded time computed to well under 5:00. Surely this great race would put me among the award winners.

Sixth place. I took 6th place. Five men in my group ran faster. How is that even possible? Don't they realize that they're supposed to slow (certainly more so than me, since I apparently, have fastered) as they age? Well, at least I was the speediest 57 year old in the race!

To throw in a little more injury, the official results had me at 5:52. According to it, I didn't break 5:50. Oh, well, I don't care. I DID!! I'm believing my watch!

Man, it was great flying down Fifth Avenue. Especially that first quarter. And especially at the finish line.

NO SENSE

I crossed the finish line last week at the Newport 5K and the clock read 20:38. This was 2 seconds under my fastest time ever. I had run, according to the clock, my best race ever.

But I didn't think so. It didn't feel right to me. Nothing I'd run recently indicated that I could do this. In this race, I'd completed the first mile in 6:36 (a good start) but slowed to 6:59 for mile 2. As tired as I felt and as twisty and turny as mile 3 was, could I have really done the final 1.1 miles in an average of 6:23 per mile? No way!

It just makes NO SENSE!!!

So, instead of celebrating I trotted up to the race director and asked if he was sure the course was measured correctly. He insisted it was. Other runners, however, were not so sure. Virtually every one I questioned said that they also felt that their time was too quick. The consensus was about 30 seconds too quick. That agreed with my impression of 30 to 40 seconds off.

On the other hand, the man who finished second felt that the course was 30 seconds too SLOW! Who should I believe, him and the director or the other runners and myself? My sense that mile 3 went by too quick, however, was just too strong. Perhaps the course WAS measured correctly, but perhaps, for some reason, we turned too quickly away from the twisty, slow waterfront and too soon to the more direct main road. That's what I think happened.

But, of course, I'm not sure. So I went to see the posted results. I know that I can at least be sure of who finished before me and who I beat out. More importantly, I can be sure of whether or not I'd won an age group award. And there it was! My name in capitals, signifying that I'd finished first in my age group!!

Unfortunately, they had me listed in the wrong age group!!!!!!!!!

I was first among men 60 to 64 and I was listed as 60. In fact, that won't happen till October, 2009, 25 months into the future. Well, I told the race director and this mistake he acknowledged and corrected and I was returned to my proper division where I only placed second. Well, at least I'd won something!

And my conclusion about the race? The race is 2 years, 1 month and 30 seconds too fast!

HOW COULD THEY?

How could the Mets do this to me? They are the WORST. What happened to Reyes? And the pitching? They are the WORST. EVER. I'm in a daze.

A LITTLE HOPEFUL

In a few hours I'll be running the Newport 5K. This is a wonderfully flat course in New Jersey and 2 years ago I ran my best there...20:40...far and away my fastest time ever. Can I do it again? Can I do even better?

No and no. I don't think so. My training times don't suggest it because they're not as good as they were back then. But they have been getting better. My heart rates are becoming lower and I'm feeling stronger at the end. That's all for the good and that's why I'm hopeful of doing fairly well and certainly better than I've been doing for most of this year.

Just not as good as back then. Besides, I think the weather won't be as runner perfect as it was 2 years ago and as it was last weekend for the cross country.

I definitely think I can break 7 minutes, so that means a final time of under 21:42. Under a 7 minute pace is always respectable in my book. Better than that, however, should be possible so I'm going to say that 21:30 would be pretty good. I'd smile broadly if I could muster a sub 21:20. I don't think I could break the 21:00 barrier (I've only done it that once); that is certainly a long shot. Fine, so, let's call it my Long Shot Goal.

Of course, what I REALLY want is a new personal best. Here's why I don't think I can: I ran 400 meters X 6 this week and my average for each 400 meters (about a quarter mile)was over 2 seconds slower than when I ran the same workout before my speedy performance in 2005. Don't get me wrong...this week's workout was good, just not SO good. It suggests that I should be over 8 seconds per mile slower this time...maybe more if the weather is a negative factor. And THAT means I can't possibly break 21 minutes.

But I'll give it my best shot. And then we'll see. But I'm definitely feeling more hopeful than 2 weeks ago.

BETTER AT RUNNING THAN COUNTING

I ran a very good cross country race...even though I missed my time goal. Fortunately, my time goal was wrong...because, apparently, I'm no longer a very good counter.

Here's how I set my goal time: 21:42 is 7 minutes flat for a 5K. I added 30 seconds per mile to that (93 seconds over the 3.1 mile course) and got 22:45, which I then rounded up to 23 minutes as my time to beat. Whoops! That 22:45 should have been 23:15. Which I would then have increased to 23:30 as my goal.

Hooray! I solidly beat my newly computed correct goal by running 23:08.

How do I know that's actually good? Well, the race included 4 members of my GNY team who had also vied with me in last week's 4-miler. They all had beaten me by fairly comfortable margins, but not this time. I beat 2 of them and significantly closed the gap on the others.

To top it off, racing cross country was actually lots of fun! Who knew??

The course descriptions I've read...and pictures I've seen... for Van Cortlandt Park have always made the course seem ominous! The hills were vicious and steep, the footing uncertain, and the end result slow and exhausting. So I didn't feel much enthusiasm for the event. I feared I was on my way to a race in which I'd do embarrassingly badly and, possibly, injure myself. Right before the start of the men's race (the women began 20 minutes later...the trails are too small to reasonably handle both groups at once) I wondered if I might finish last.

Nevertheless, when I first got off the subway alongside the Park, I thought Van Cortlandt was beautiful. A long field on which people were playing soccor and cricket (which I'd never seen in person)and then the woods and hills off in the distance. It felt like the country in the Bronx and the sight of the woods bordering the playing field reminded me of my childhood delight, the softball field at Lansmans Bungalow Colony, where my family spent many Summers. In the Catskills, the deep outfield actually sloped down, leading to the forest that surrounded left, right and center. Many times I flew down that slope, chasing fly balls that ended in my glove before they could make the trip all the way into the woods.

The race started on the long flat playing field (The Flats). We ran straight across between the various games for over half a mile, turned left around a pole featuring the tortoise and the hare (I feared I knew which one I was to be that day), left again and then right till me entered the dreaded woods. I had no real idea what to expect in that mysterious place.

And that's why I'd run the Flats cautously...I was conserving energy for the unexpected. Well, I could have started the race more aggressively...

...Because I loved the woods! Surrounded by trees, unable to see any part of the City (till we ran over a bridge that crossed a major highway), it was cool and other worldly. Some of the dreaded hills were steep but they were VERY short. The footing was not bad at all. In fact, the hardest part was running the steep down hills. Twice I picked up so much speed while my body was at such an unusual angle towards the ground that I feared tumbling over and thus had to struggle to slow myself down a bit.

Less than half way through the woods I came upon our team leader, Bob Glover. He had beaten my solidly the week before and then said after the race that he had not "pushed it" near the end because he was already well ahead of his age group competition. In other words, he could have beaten me by even more! I went by him and never looked back!

Then, up ahead, was JC, another team runner I'd never come close to. Well, he was close this time, maybe 50 meters or less ahead. This was great, but I decided to concentrate on my footing and maintaining a good pace over the hills and not exhausting myself for when we reemerged on the Flats. I'd been told that there would still be a long way to go to the finish and I didn't want to falter there. The race was still more with myself than with others.

Running through the woods, pushing up the not so awful hills and then flying down while trying to maintain enough control, all the while doing a very nice pace, was SO MUCH FUN!! Still, I kept wanting the fun to end, to get out of the woods and on to the finish. And that was because I feared that perhaps there WAS one last hill still lurking that would be exactly as bad as I'd been lead to believe!

But there wasn't. We left the woods and turned on to the trail that would lead us back across the Flats to the finish. JC was, maybe, 25 meters ahead of me and certain to pick up speed now that we faced no more hills. The finish line, though in sight, was still way too distant to begin a kick. No way I could maintain it that long. I was pretty tired and not sure that I had a kick left inside me. In fact, as we raced to the end, I wanted to pull back and slow down. There was too far to go to even maintain the quick pace that I was running. But there was JC not that far ahead and I didn't want to weaken so late. If he could do it, so could I! And then we were passing the starting point for the women's race and I could hear teammates' shouts of support. I certainly didn't want to falter in front of them.

The finishing banner was now not so far away...nor was JR. I was gaining on him, maybe within 10 meters. He started to kick and so did I. Well, it didn't feel like much of a kick as I was now near totally spent. But the finish was beckoning and the distance between us was lessening. If only he'd pull away I could stop pushing and end the race in some level of comfort, but now it was too close to call off the chase.

I pushed it all the way in and so did he and by the end the gap was about 1 meter, 1 second according to the official posted finishing times. It was JC who prevailed by that slim margin. Couldn't we race just one more kilometer?

I was disappointed...but not very. Because it's not just JC that I'm gaining on!!

FACING CROSS COUNTRY

Tomorrow I run cross country for the first time...a 5K race in hilly Van Cortland Park. I don't know what to expect. However, I'm feeling pretty good, because:

-My resting heart rate seems to be down. It hit a low of 41 the other morning while it had been hovering around 44, 45 till recently. At my best, in the Fall of 2005, it was down as low as 37 (briefly). Steady lows right around 40 is a sign of good conditioning.

-My running heart rates also seem lower. Yesterday afternoon I averaged 118 for a slow paced 6 miler. Anything under 120 is a good sign and my heart rates are generally higher in the PM. That my max HR never hit 130 also seems like a good thing.

-I'll enter this race a bit more rested than the last one when I'd done a solid 4 mile tempo only 2 days before.

-The weather has gotten better. It should be in the 60s tomorrow with low humidity. In fact, long range prediction is for similar temperature next weekend when I race a road 5K.

Though my time in the recent 4 mile race doesn't suggest it, I suspect I could run about 7 flat pace (21:42) in a regular 5K with good weather conditions. But cross country is supposed to be slower, so it's hard to know what the equivalent time might be. Would I be totally off to guess 30 seconds per mile slower? If so, then my goal is:

-22:45. So let's say 23 minutes or better is a reasonable goal.

I could add more goals but they'd just be guesses...as, I think, this one is! So let's leave it at that and see what happens.

Truthfully, given my inexperience with cross country and a recent course description that makes it sound like the footing in some areas is insecure, I'm thinking of this as more of a hard workout than a race. My mind is most set on the upcoming Newport 5K next weekend. That is the flat, fast course on which I ran my best 5K time. Since it seems that the weather will be good, that should be a good measure of where I stand in comparison to the period 2 years ago when I did my best racing. Grete's, 2 weeks after that, and the Paramus 10K (if I run it about 2 weeks later) should also give me nice comparisons.

It's starting to get interesting!!!!

SLOW START

It was a slow start to my 5 race challenge...29:11 in the 4 mile race. This is not a good time for me.

The day was warm and humid and I did do a fairly tough speed workout on Thursday and both these things factor against a speedy performance. And I honestly didn't expect to be that fast. But I also didn't expect to be quite this slow!

Coach Shelly said to not be too worried about it. Among other things she noted that I'm training with greater mileage this year in preparation for the Marathon. She says that tends to slow speed workouts and races. No doubt that's true. And she says that it can be good to experience the races "in the moment," not as predictors of what is to come.

That's fine and that's true and, to some extent, that's what I did. I ran the race steadily, pushing myself to maintain a good pace, particularly on the final mile when the fatigue and the weather were making things very difficult. I think that, overall, it was a good workout that will toughen me up.

Next Sunday I have the cross country 5k at Van Cortland Park. That's bound to be slow...everyone says cross country is slower than road racing. So I expect to not be fast. And I expect the race will further toughen me and move me along in my training and get me in even better shape. It's a race where I really shouldn't worry too much about time.

But after that, I'd sure like to be faster!!

FIVE STARTING LINES

I have 5 races scheduled over the next 5 weekends. They are all VERY DIFFERENT:

-A flat 5K on the New Jersey course where I smoked a Personal Best 2 years ago.

-A cross country 5k (something I've never run) in hilly Van Courtland Park.

-A 4 miler tomorrow in Central Park. I've raced this a bunch of times so it will be great for a comparison.

-The famous Fifth Avenue Mile...a race I've run only once. I can't wait to measure my time now against the speedy time I hit years ago.

-Grete's Gallup. The perfect Central Park half marathon to assess my Marathon expectations and to compare with my good times of the last 2 years.

All this while I'm squeezing in 20 milers, other long runs and speed workouts as part of marathon training. Can I even hold up under this?

That, however, is not the question most on my mind, though, perhaps, it should be. I'm worried about my lack of consistent speed. I run a fast half, a fast mile, whatever, but the next one is slower and, by the end, my time is way up as is my heart rate. When I compare my current performances to earlier, similar workouts, my times are, generally, okay but not near my best.

Except for last week's half mile intervals which were very good.

On the other hand, the previous 3 times I've run MILE intervals I was so fatigued by the end that my last mile was over 7 minutes. That is comparitively POOR!!

So I don't know where I am. Am I held back by the uncomfortable summer weather, the training I missed while injured, aging, something else? Or am I, in fact, coming along fine to the point where I'm set to pop some good races? I don't really know.

The truth right now is that I'm hoping to run really fast but expecting not to. That's an uncomfortable position to be in. I'll certainly know more soon, but, till then, this is the uncertainty that I bring to Five Starting Lines.

SPEEDY CLASS

I went to Speed Class last night. It was the first time. Normally my work schedule keeps me from the Tuesday and Thursday night workouts. But I'm on vacation now so Coach Shelly invited me to come to the classes that she and her husband Bob offer.

It was a new experience. I've NEVER run speed with anyone, and that's good. I don't want anyone seeing how undisciplined I am. I'm always going too fast at the start, then slowing down, huffing and puffing and suffering as the end nears. Never a pretty sight; certainly not one that I want anyone to witness.

So I run alone. But not last night because, as I said, I was at Speed Class. With the Competitive Group. We were going to do half mile intervals, 6 of them, in the area of the 103rd Street Transverse.

There were about 25 of us plus Bob and Shelly (I think) and 4 coaches. Each coach would lead a small group and keep us on pace. The first group would be the fastest runners, the second the next quickest and so on. This would be a tough workout. I didn't want to embarass myself in a too fast group where I couldn't keep up. On the other hand, a too slow group would not help me to a good workout. Which too choose? Remember, I had no experience with this.

Bob made it easy. He announced: "First group, who can do under 7:00 (per mile)in a 5K." Ah, perfect! That was definitely me. We'd probably go 3:10 to 3:15 pace or so for each interval. I'd averaged 3:16 a month ago. So this would challenge me to improve by a reasonable, surely doable, amount.

I was the first out to the starting line and a bunch of runners who knew me (and knew it was my first time) cheered and shouted encouragement. Cool! Speed class is obviously a wonderful, supportive place!! I got ready to run.

Our coach got to the front and said we'd go at a sub 3 minute pace. Three minutes? What? That's way too fast!! How does a sub 7 minute 5K translate to under 3 for a half mile? I've NEVER run that fast. This is the WRONG group for me...I should wait for the next one or perhaps even the one after that. But how can I go back now? Everyone had cheered when I'd first gone out. Well, obviously, I was gonna run with these folks!

Off we went at a VERY brisk pace. I stayed near the front and, when we turned onto the Transverse, we were half way done. The road slopes down a bit there and I just tried to hang on. I finished at 2:55, my best ever!

This was great but there was NO WAY I could maintain it. I slid back into the next quickest group and ran the next 2 at just a few seconds above 3. I was very pleased, but, in the humid evening, pretty exhausted. Another runner said encouringly that we were half way through, but I felt a whole lot more than half finished at that point! In fact, I was thinking about falling back another group. But I decided not to. I'd try to hang in where I was.

Interval 4 went up the transverse and that was tough. My time increased, but, so, it seems, did everyone's. All I wanted to do was get to the end and I did. On the 5th, however, I got some strength back and did a 3:10. Nothing great, but better than anything I'd run a month ago. For the finale I told myself not to kill myself, just finish. Well, 3:18 is quite a jump from where I started, but I could live with that. I averaged just under 3:08 and that is the fastest I've ever been for this workout.

Pretty speedy!

I can go to 2 more classes before my vacation ends. Can't wait for the next one!!

RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN

I haven't been running fast. In perfect conditions last week I did a 5 mile race in 36:22. Not terrible but, alas, not particularly good...about 90 seconds off my best. Recent workouts, speed and otherwise, seem also to indicate that this is about where I am.

Am I just slow to recover my aerobic capacity after the loss of 2 training weeks to that awful injury in June? Or is it something else, something I can't overcome?

I bought a new sports watch recently that claims to measure aerobic capacity. It computes VO2 Max (a measurement of the amount of oxygen the body can take in and process) by examining resting heart rate and how it fluctuates over several minutes of inactivity. My score was 53...elite level in my age group and for several age groups below mine. I'm in the good category even among 20 to 25 year olds, people 35 years my junior. Pretty impressive, right?

So why do my running times suck???

So this morning I went out to run as fast as I could. Mile intervals on a flat course. Three of them with 4 minute recoveries in between. It's a workout I've done many times over the years...most recently just 18 days ago. The distance is a good one, I think, to measure endurance as well as speed. More so, say, than the shorter interval workouts of 400 and 800 meters.

Oh, by the way, the weather was bad...warmish and quite humid. I'm setting up my excuses...I know, not very promising forshadowing!! Please read on anyway.

After a 2 mile warmup and some stretching, off I went! I wanted to be agressive, definitely faster than tempo pace, without so burning myself out on the first mile that I'd suffer through the rest of the workout at ever decreasing speed...or even not be able to finish all 3 intervals, which has happened before. On the other hand, I didn't want to be too slow...say anything at 7 minutes per mile or above. Plagued by these tardy fears, I went out hard...harder than I should have, I thought, as I passed the half mile mark around Canal Street. My breathing was increasingly uncomfortable as I pushed on and I wondered if I could maintain the pace. Then I wondered if I even wanted to...this was getting just too uncomfortable and there was still 2 more hard miles after this one. Up ahead I saw the batting cage which was the tenth of a mile to go point. I told myself to just stay fast to there. And when I got there, instead of coasting in, I pushed myself to the end.

Never mind my VO2 Max, I could not take in enough oxygen as I walked to recover. However, my time was 6:32 for the mile and I was delighted. I hadn't seen a time like that in 16 months!! This was great! It is SO wonderful to see numbers like that on MY watch!!!

And yet, it is not enough. The workout is Mile X 3. There were still 2 more to be run. While it's very important to know that I can still do even a single mile at this pace, my ability to maintain it (or relatively close to it) would indicate my endurance. And that's what leads to good race times.

Two years ago, on a flat New Jersey course with perfect weather conditions, I ran my best 5K ever...perhaps my best race. The first mile was 6:24, 8 seconds faster than today. I slowed over the remaining 2.1 miles of the race, but not too badly (15 seconds on mile 2 and 18 more for the third mile) and so my endurance was good enough to get me home in first place (by alot!) in my age group and in a time far better than anything I'd run before.

So what would today bring?

After a 4 minute walking recovery I set off again. It was not pretty! I was drenched with sweat and feeling kind of loopy. I'd speed up, become extremely uncomfortable and then slow to regain my breath. I wondered if I would even complete this second mile. Maybe I should stop at the half mile mark? I'd do a couple of half mile intervals and that would make for a good workout. I got to the half mile mark and pushed on. When I passed .6 miles I figured I'd finish. But I felt myself slowing and that couldn't be good. Then my legs, without direction from my brain, seemed to pick it up by themselves and get me to the end.

6:44. Twelve seconds slower. Too many seconds slower. It showed that I'd run the first mile too fast. But I ALWAYS do that, frankly, and 12 seconds slower was, actually, better than I thought I'd do. OK, not bad.

As I walked slowly to recover, I felt BEAT!!! So tired, so weary, so fatigued and so not wanting to deal with another mile of increasing discomfort and pain. Truly, I didn't see how I could push myself to run another full mile. But I wanted it to be a good workout. Certainly that would mean completing the distance. I told myself that's all I had to do...just run that final mile no matter what the time. Okay, fine, time pressure's off. But then I thought about what I would consider a good average time for the workout. Averaging under 7:00 of course was minimum acceptable. Under 6:50 would be good. But what would get me in under 6:50? My oxygen depleted brain had already forgotten my first mile time. I thought it was about the same as mile 2, 6:45. Hmmm, not much breathing room to get an under 6:50 average finish. I'd need about 7:00 or better. I didn't think I could do that.

I began the third and final interval telling myself to just run a decent pace...and by that I meant don't slow to a jog! Don't let the other runners there who were not doing speed work fly by me...or get by me at all!! No one was passing me but still it felt like I was slogging along. I wanted to stay below my pain threshold, at least for a good part of the mile, but that wasn't working out too well. At .3 mile I told myself that was respectable...a mile, another mile and then 3 tenths of one. Stop here and go home. But I was playing tricks with myself. By the time I'd finished that thought I was already approaching the tennis courts which would take me to .4 mile. And then to the half way point at Canal Street. And then .6 at Watts Street. And then....

Tricks could only help so much. There was not enough oxygen in the humidity filled air (see, I made it back to my opening excuse). I was slowing badly. There were 2 women joggers ahead of me and I couldn't gain on them. And then I went passed them...oh, I did? Well, my brain is addled. But I was definitely slowing. This was toooo uncomfortable. But there was the batting cage again and there were my legs picking up the pace. What were they even thinking??

And then it was over. 7:03. Nothing to brag about. And on top of that my new sports watch was sending off weird heart rate numbers. Up at 188, about 15% beyond my maximum. But then, when I stopped at the water fountain or at a red light as I was about to cross the highway to leave Henry Hudson Park my heart rate dropped to where it should be, just over 120. Damn this new transmitter! They short out so quickly because it's impossible (at least I find it so) to get them dry after I've washed them off following a run. Damn!!!

At home I was pleasantly surprised to rediscover how quick I'd been on mile 1 and to find that I'd averaged 6:46. This is a respectable place for me. Off my fastest but not bad. Ten seconds per mile faster than just 2 weeks ago, though that took place on a hilly course. If I stay healthy and consistant with my training and if the weather improves there's no doubt that I will be faster. Actually, there's always doubt. Maybe I won't be faster. Maybe today was the absolute best I could do (doubtful, if only because I'm SURE that at least the weather will be better at some point). Still, today I ran as fast as I could and these miles make me hopeful.

I'll just have to find out about the future...later!

A+ PERSON; A- SEASON

We hadn't played the first game yet and already my 2007 softball season was off to a bad start. My nephew Adam was managing the team now instead of me (I quietly stepped aside since over half the players were his friends...and his age!)and he sent me his proposed starting lineup for my feedback.

Well, my feedback was that I HATED his proposed starting lineup. I was not the lead off batter as I'd always been...I was listed 11th. I was not an outfielder as I'd always been...I was the extra hitter. And, on closer analysis, I wasn't even that. There was another person's name next to mine. Apparently, He was the 11th batter and extra hitter and I merely his substitute. Talk about receiving a message. Though I'd played quite well last year I was now nothing but an afterthought, a substitute for the least important player on the team.. After all, we'd added a few guys, all of them much younger and, sight unseen, certainly better than me. Why should I be a starter at all, particularly, I guess, at my age?

Game time arrived, however, and we were missing a guy so I did get to play. And did well. And the next game someone else was missing so I played again, this time batting lead off and scoring 3 runs.

And that's how the rest of the season went. Someone was always missing, I kept playing and kept playing well. And one of the new guys didn't get a single hit till the season was almost over and another played like he'd never much played the game before (actually, he hadn't!). Still others seemed to disappear whenever the game was tough or pick key moments to do incredibly foolish things. And I kept playing and doing the best I could. And by season's end my stats were as good as anyone's on the team.

Imagine that!

Still, as the playoffs approached, I wondered how I'd fit in. If everyone finally came down (as often happens with the playoffs) perhaps I'd be pushed aside. It was a sad thought and so I didn't look forward to the playoffs with my usual enthusiasm.

At the field, I was chatting with a couple of the players. One told me that they had rated all the players on the team, using 2 criteria. The first was whether a player performed up to his potential. The second ranked the value of the contribution the player actually made to the team. With a smile he asked if I'd like to know how I was rated. Of course!!

I received an A PLUS for playing to my full potential. I got an A Minus for how well I actually played. The two guys who were, apparently, my usurpers at season's start?
A D for both.

And so I was in the starting lineup for our playoff games. Was it because a few players were missing or because I simply deserved it? Unfortunately, the team REALLY sucked and we lost two in a row. I was the only player on base 4 times over the pair of games and the only player to score 2 runs. Nothing spectaculor but good enough to feel pleased as I certainly didn't suck.

And I really felt nice about my A+, A- ranking. Till it occurred to me that they think I played up to my full potential? They think A- is the best I could do? Actually, I could have done better.

THE SLOW ROAD

When this post injury nightmare period (pain, discomfort, trouble sleeping, no running, no ball playing, malaise) came to an end...that is, when I began to run again...my spirits soared and I looked forward to picking up where I left off in an almost manic kind of way. I was SO happy!!

But it isn't, of course, that easy. My quad is much, much better, but touch it even lightly along the IT Band and it is still incredibly sensitive and painful. And the injury limits my stride. The ribs are also much improved but a wrong move in bed...or even getting up from my chair...still hurts. Not a whole lot, but enough to make sleeping...and getting up from my chair...uncomfortable. And the soreness affects my breathing when my respiration rate quickens during a workout. I'm far from 100%.

So, too, with running. I've run 4 times this week for 28 miles, including a moderate tempo on Thursday and an 11 mile semilong run today. Not bad at any time and literally night and day compared to last week and the 1 before that. But my times are about 30 seconds per mile slower, my heart rate is up, my side is uncomfortable, the quad hurts as my left foot strikes the ground....

Yes, the Slow Road to full recovery!!

I have races scheduled on the next 2 weekends. There is NO WAY I can run them at my pre injury pace. And I wasn't delighted with that pre injury pace; I was hoping to speed things up. That's not going to happen for awhile. So maybe I'd be better off to skip the races and, therefore, skip the pre race taper. I could then do 2 extra tempo runs on the Thursday's before the race and do long runs on race day. Maybe that's the best way to speed up my progress down the slow road??

NIGHTMARE

I was racing from first to third on a single. The third basemen was already bracing to catch the throw and I was still a good 20 feet away. My heart sank. I was a dead duck. With no other alternative to save me I twisted my body and attempted to slide far to the right of the base, so far away, I hoped, that the fielder would miss the tag and then I'd pivot to my left while lieing on the ground and dive into third. It didn't work :-((. Not only did I get tagged out but my right knee hit the ground hard, bruised it, ripped my pants and opened up a cut.

And this was just the first inning of our doubleheader 2 weeks ago. From there it only got worse!

But not right away. We won the first game and I played well. And then, in the second game, I found myself again racing, this time towards first base. I was attempting to beat out an opening inning bunt and the play was going to be close. As my left foot was about to come down on the bag the first basemen turned to the inside to catch the throw that was too close to my body. In so doing his knee went directly into the lower part of my left quad, just above the knee. I came down on the base and went flying. The pain in my thigh was awful. I landed on my right side and ended on my back. I heard the umpire call me safe and I felt happy. And then I just lay there in pain. And when I was finally helped to my feet I could barely walk. I certainly couldn't run. But there was no replacement for me so I hung in for the rest of the game. Though I could barely move, I managed to reach base 2 more times...each time being replaced by a "courtesy runner" who ran the bases for me. In the end, we lost. And by the end, I could still barely move.

Charlie Horse. Charlie Horse? It sounds so sweet. Like Lamb Chop, who was a puppett on a kids show long ago. How could something called Charlie Horse hurt anyone? Who could have an injury named Charlie Horse and actually suffer? In fact, though I'd heard the name many times, I didn't even know what a Charlie Horse was. Now I do. It's a contusion (a bruise) of the quad muscle. And it DOES hurt!! And I did suffer!!

Tuesday I couldn't do my interval workout and I could hardly walk. Going down steps was torture. I called my doctor and he prescribed a pain reliever and anti inflammatory medication called Celebrex. I think that's the one where there hasn't been a lot of evidence yet that it can contribute to a heart attack. And I'm sure my insurance company was just looking out for me when they delayed approving the prescription so I could buy the drug at a reasonable price...but that, of course, is another topic.

Wednesday and Thursday was just as bad and Thursday night was agony. Agony not because of the Charlie Horse but because my right ribs, apparently, were bruised. I found that out for sure when I made the mistake of sneezing that evening. A knife- like pain cut through my side. And it remained super sensitive. Even the slightest movement in bed was painful so I slept not a wink. In addition, it hurt whenever my right knee rubbed up against my bed sheets. Not a good night!!

So let's recap: For the doubleheader I had 2 hits, 3 walks, 2 runs scored, a run batted in, a win, a loss, a reputation as a tough guy who'll play through anything, a bruised quad (Charlie Horse), a bruised tendon above the knee (also, probably, a Charlie Horse, a cut and bruised and overly sensitive right knee and bruised ribs.

Oh, yes, and there's more. But I didn't find that out till Friday.

On Friday I went to see my sports chiropractor. He's very hands on. He put his hands on my quad and said I had a Charlie Horse. No news there. He worked it and made me scream. A few times. Then he examined my side and looked at the way I could barely rotate my body. In addition to the bruised ribs (which could be fractured but maybe not and besides an X-Ray probably wouldn't show anything for awhile)he said that I'd pulled the inter costal muscle. Or maybe a few of them, I don't remember. I didn't know there were even muscles over there. But, apparently, there are and I had at least one that was pulled.

Great!!

Basically my chiropractor said I was a mess. Still he said that I could run if I could stand the pain. He didn't think I could cause further injury to the quad. Perhaps a Charlie Horse IS the ultimate quad injury and there's nothing beyond that?

Well, even though I hurt and could still barely walk, I decided to give running a try on Saturday. Not bright. And also not long as I quit after about a minute. Perhaps I didn't cause further injury but I hurt like anything for the rest of the weekend. And I sadly couldn't play in our game Sunday and our Monday doubleheader. Yet we won all 3 games. Guys, how can you win like that without me? Don't you recognize my importance to the team? Couldn't you lose at least once?

No, they couldn't. And it's not like I was feeling that much better. Well, a little. I could stretch the quad a bit and it was not quite so disasterous when I tried walking down steps. On Monday my chiropractor said that those were good things since it meant that something that would be REALLY, REALLY bad wasn't happening to my quad as he'd feared (yet neglected to tell me about) when he'd seen me the first time. I don't recall what this Fearful Something is but I was very happy to hear that it wasn't actually happening to my poor quad. Nevertheless, it remained extremely sore and painful to the touch. This last point is very important because touch it and bend it and move it and massage it the chiropractor did. And that REALLY, REALLY hurt. And, like in the previous treatment, I screamed a lot.

My chiro thought I could try running by Thursday, but I didn't feel anywhere near enough improvement. It still hurt a lot, even most times, when I was just walking. My ribs were better, perhaps my inter costal was, too (how would one know??) and my knee wasn't so painful whenever it rubbed against my sheets. In other words, I was able to sleep a bit. But I didn't think I could run so, when Thursday arrived, I drank coffee, ate a bagel and did some stuff that needed doing in my house.

But I didn't run. And I didn't have a sense about when I could.

On Friday, something strange was happening. My quad wasn't hurting all the time. Perhaps that was because I'd stopped touching it, rubbing it, bending it, poking it, to, you know, test for improvement. But it was also not so painful when I walked. And I was negotiating stairs better. I was healing!!

Then, in my office, I absent mindedly raised and stretched my right arm and felt a moderately searing pain in my ribs. Or was it the inter costal??

That afternoon my chiro guy said not to worry about my side...I'd surely not reinjured it, just irritated the super sensitive muscle there. And, more importantly, he felt that the quad was much improved. Still, unfortunatley, it killed me when he worked it, but today that was just a sign that he was working it harder. He said that if I could stand the pain I could run Saturday.

I put running off for a few hours Saturday morning and that gave me time to actually clean my apartment. I could, in fact, accomplish a whole lot for myself if I was regularly prohibited from doing the things that I actually want to do. But by 11 AM I'd had enought and, with great nervousness, I went out for a little run.

It hurt on each step...but not a great deal...and it never got worse. So I ran...1 mile, then 2 then on to 3, 4 and 5. I wasn't fast but I wasn't that slow, running 9:50 miles. My heart rate was up a bit but not a lot and...hey, none of this matters, I RAN!!!!

The pain afterwards wasn't bad at all nor is it today, but the leg is pretty stiff. I cut my Celebrex intake in half yesterday (400 down to 200 mg) and I've taken none today. I think things are coming along. I played softball today (just as a hitter) and had 2 singles...but we lost. Wow, now I'm REALLY feeling like I don't matter!

No, that's not what I actually feel. What I feel, in fact is that perhaps the nightmare is just about over!!

NOT SO BAD

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

When I left for the Prostate Race the temperature was in the low 60s. Not so bad and not surprising either. I'd studied the hour by hour temperature predictions on Accuweather's web site the night before and this is what they predicted. Hey, I should be able to run fine in this kind of weather.

It was still nice and pleasant when I did my prerace warmup. When I finished I was absolutely soaked. That didn't bode well at all. Maybe it was going to be EXACTLY as bad as I had thought.

The race started and I struggled to not run too fast on the first mile. I almost always do that...struggle to not run too fast, that is. And I almost never succeed. That's why I always begin to hate racing as I spend the last few miles slowing down and vowing never to race again.

Okay, I'm exaggerating. But not by much.

But this time I did run the first mile slower. I picked it up a bit for mile 2 and stayed strong in the third. This was good. Mile 3 on this particular course is mostly uphill and usually kills me. Partly because I'd run too fast early on. Not this time. But, by mile 4, the heat and humidity did get me. Apparently, it WAS as bad as I thought it would be. I struggled to the finish and got in at 35:50.

35:50? Okay! I beat all the goal times I'd thought were doable the night before. Okay! Not so bad!

And then it was off to the softball game. I arrived after missing just a half inning and everyone was impressed by how exhausted I looked and by how well I'd done in the race. They knew I'd done well because, from our field, we could see the runners at about a quarter mile from the finish.

"Hey," said 1 of the players. "There are a lot of people still running."

"Lots," I agreed."

"And you finished 20 minutes ago?"

"About."

"You must be fast! How old are you again, Mikey?"

So now the players on my team knew that I was fast but I think it still didn't fully register with them. They kept saying I'd run a 5K and I kept telling them it was a 5 miler. Apparently they didn't understand that I wouldn't exactly be pleased with a 35:50 for 5K. And I wouldn't tell anybody about it, either!

In the third inning, I came up for my first at bat. We lead by a run and we had runners on first and second with nobody out. It was a crucial situation. One of the guys yelled to the umpire: "Don't make any bad calls on him, Blue. He just raced a 5K!"

"It was FIVE MILES," I yelled back as the pitcher threw to the plate. I swung and drove it down the left field line. A runner scored and I raced into second with a double.

No, not so bad at all!!!

NOT HAPPY RACING

Tomorrow I'm racing the Prostate Awareness 5 Miler. I'm not happy about it.

First of all, I'm already VERY aware of my prostate. Nothing like a biopsy to make a person OVERLY aware of a specific organ. My terror came last year. So more aware of the prostate I DON'T NEED TO BE!!! And, in fact, I don't think I CAN be.

On the plus side, I did run my best 5 mile race ever (just under 35 minutes) at the 2004 Prostate. I'd love to do it again but the weather conditions will probably be against me. Hot and Humid. Bad combination. It'll slow me for sure and I don't know by how much. And I don't seem very good at adjusting so, by mile 3, I could be totally exhausted and wishing I'd never even begun.

And that's the main reason I'm not happy to be running. I just don't know the best way to handle the likely weather.

I'd say anything under 7:15 (36:15) has to be acceptable. I should be happy to come in below 36 minutes (7:12). The faster the happier, of course, and to be at or under 35 (7 flat)is what I REALLY want. But, truthfully, I don't think I can tomorrow.

After the race I must race again...to the nearby softball field for our game. I'll be late but we're playing such a wretched team that it doesn't matter. Statistically, however, it does matter since my race exhaustion will certainly limit my chance of a super stat day against their poor pitcher.

There! Just another reason why I won't be happy racing tomorrow.

RUNNING RIDGEWOOD

I wanted to run fast at today's Ridgewood 5K to confirm for me that I still can. Yes, I ran very fast at a similar race just a few weeks ago, but none of my other recent races have been anywhere near as good. And since there were some problems at that 5K I've begun wondering if they even measured the course correctly. Perhaps it was too short?? So I want a good performance just so I can be sure.

But today wasn't a good choice for a confidence builder. The day was warm and humid...much more so than I've been running in this year...and the start was late and that just let the day get even warmer and more humid. In fact, my singlet was soaked from just the warm up and sweat dripped down my forehead and throughout my body. So, as I stood at the starting line, waiting to begin I wondered if I was even capable of hitting my goal of under a 7 minute pace.

A 7 minute pace would get me to the finish of a 5K in 21:42. Just a week earlier, in Central Park (a tougher course than Ridgewood) I did 7:17 pace for double the distance. Could I take so much time off now, especially with this forboding (from a runner's perspective) weather?

Well, after 1 mile I was sure that I could. I did it in 6:36! All I had to do was just stay relatively close to this pace and it would be great...but I couldn't! The heat, the humidity, my elevated heart beat all combined to slow me down. Mile 2 was 7:03, a way too steep slow down from my speedy start. But then people began shouting that mile 3 was down hill. I kept looking ahead in anticipation, but all I kept seeing were rolling hills. Downs followed by ups. I cruised on the down parts but the up sections were too much. Where were the down parts only???

Midway through mile 3 my training partner and buddy Wanda came flying by. She is such a strong runner late in races...and it just pisses me off that I should be holding on for dear life while she is cruising. She lengthened her lead and I knew I had no chance of catching her...till we hit a down hill and she didn't seem to speed up but I did. Soon I was drawing even with her, breathing hard and feeling dazed and in pain. Was the race almost over? I couldn't tell. If it was I could push to the finish but now, coming up, I saw another hill. Too much! Wanda pulled away again.

Well, there was no mile 3 marker, but soon I saw the finish line and the clock ticking. It was nearing 21:30 and I was nearing it. With a final push that sent my heart rate to a number it hadn't hit (165) in a long time I crossed the finish at 21:33 a very respectable and gratifying 6:57 pace on a tough day.

A bit later I looked at the official results. I saw the runner who took first in my age group...but there was no one else in our group between him and me. That seemed odd...I was sure there was. What did it mean that there wasn't? My oxygen addled brain couldn't quite compute it. So, when I received the award for second in my age group I still felt surprised. But in a good way, of course.

Now if I could just get those second and third mile times a little faster...

FACING SIMON

Simon is the best pitcher I've ever hit against. Other guys on my team must feel the same because we never beat him. In fact, he and his team beat us in both the 2005 and 2006 championship series, sweeping a total of 4 games from us. We scored very few runs.

When I face Simon, my main goal is to not embarass myself. Not striking out is not necessarily enough. In addition to that I also want to make fairly good contact with the ball, certainly not hitting a pathetic little roller or pop up. I don't even have to get a hit. Not that I've been particularly successful even in this very limited aim. To avoid striking out I've sometimes cut down on my swing. And, by doing that, I've hit more than my share of pathetic little grounders.

So, in the game Wednesday, I was batting last. For a guy who's used to leading off and getting the offense going, this was humbling enough. By the time I batted with 2 outs in the third no one had done much with him. Simon threw me a high change up and I was not particularly fooled. I put a good swing on it but got under it and lofted a fly to left. I thought it would drop in but it held up and the left fielder covered ground well and caught it. A fly to left! Not much, of course, but I was one of only 2 or 3 to get the ball out of the infield. So not bad.

Definitely not a humiliation!

My second at bat was more fun. I lined a pitch down the right field line, landing just beyond the reach of the outfielder...and just foul! Too bad. There was a runner on and, had the right fielder kicked the ball far enough, our baserunner might have scored. Since the game ended in a 0 - 0 tie I would have been the hero. But, alas! The count was 0-2 and Simon tried to throw a low riser at my knees. It stayed too low and I took it for a ball. Then he tried the opposite, a high riser that he hoped I'd chase, but I didn't. Ball 2. This felt like a good, hard working at bat. His next pitch was a fast ball and again I hit it solidly, on a line, but right at the shortstop. Nothing! But 3 good contacts.

So another game passes without embarrassment. The next pitcher we face is not nearly as good so I'll raise my hopes. Now I need a couple of hits to make up for my 0 for 2 against Simon!

DOUBLE DELIGHT

Two more strong games! Solid hitting, a couple of walks, 4 runs scored and a RBI. Three games now and I'm still good! Well, now, at least, I can relax till next week.

:-))

SOFTBALL STRUGGLES

I worry about my softball abilities. I'm not as good as I was in the past. That's particularly so in the outfield. Once I was SUCH a good outfielder. Now I'm not. I used to get on base all the time. Now it's more of a struggle. As a result my position on both my teams is less secure and I wonder just how much I can still contribute.

That's not very pleasent.

Defensively this season I've been okay except for one awful play. Offensively I judge myself by 2 basic standards. I want to be on base at least twice each game and score a run. After 8 games I've been on 14 times and crossed home with 8 runs. Not bad. But I've had some poor at bats in the last few games and that's got me worried.

Yesterday's game is a great illustration of what I'm going through. I never touched the ball in the field. My first 2 at bats were pretty awful. Twice I swung at difficult pitches and hit them weakly. I was over anxious. I began wondering if I should be batting at the top of the lineup. I wondered if I belonged in the lineup at all.

Despite my non contribution the score was tied, 0-0, late in the game. I came to bat in the sixth with a runner on first and no one out. I moved up in the box and told myself to look for something a little higher than the pitches I'd made outs on. I got 1 and singled to center. Finally, a contribution! The next 3 batters made outs, however, and the game remained scoreless. Still, I was SO relieved!

Neither team could break through and it looked like I'd bat again. If I made another out I'd be a weak 1-4 and that sucks. But my 1-3 wasn't very good either. I told myself to just do my best if I got another chance. The game went to extra innings and I lead off the ninth. Getting on was critical. The first pitch was to my liking and I lined it to the right of the shortstop, a clean hit. I was so pleased...actually, so relieved! I hadn't fucked up our game. Now I was a very respectable 2-4 and had a chance to score the winning (and the game's only) run. That would make everything...alright.

I've always loved to run the bases and I was an awfully good baserunner. And, to me, there is nothing more exciting than scoring an important run. I advanced to second, sliding hard, when the second basement mishandled a ground ball.

I love to score from second. I love to fly around third and then sweep by the catcher. When the next batter lined the ball to center I thought that's exactly what would happen...except the centerfielder was playing shallow, the ball held up, I stopped quickly and saw the fielder make a great running catch. I rushed back to second and dove into the bag ahead of the throw. I guarantee that half (maybe more)of the players on my team would have been double up. I'd made a smart play.

The next batter dribbled one in front of the plate, I ran to third and everyone was safe. Bases loaded now with 1 out. All we needed was a good flyball. And that's what our batter delivered. I took off and slid into home thought a slide wasn't necessary. We won and I did indeed score the winning (and only) (and difficult) run!

I didn't play a great game but I had played a good one and contributed to our win!

So now I feel that I don't suck at the moment. But that might change after today's doubleheader.

I'M BACK!!!!

I may be fast again!!!

The last few months have been soooo frustrating! No matter what I did I couldn't seem to be fast. I've trained hard, regularly and, for a while now, without injury or illness. Yet none of this seemed reflected in my race times. The crusher came 2 weeks ago in a small 4 miler. Though I won my age group I ran slightly slower than the Colon Cancer contest of almost 2 months ago. Other runs have given me similar lukewarm results.

Today was the All Star 5K at Bronx Community College. As I ran a 7:13 pace at the recent 4 mile race, I thought a 7 minute pace exactly would be challenging but, perhaps, possible. Certainly it would be on a flat course but the Bronx, of course, is hilly.

I think I have a chance of placing in any non Road Runner event, so I lined up in the front row and went out fairly hard at the start. A small group spurted forward but I stayed with the second pack, enjoying our more reasonable pace as we rolled through about half a mile of fairly steady downhills. Then, up ahead, the street inclined nastily. I mentally willed the lead runners to turn right and onto a level side street, but it didn't work. We had to run that up but it soon evened out and we reached the Grand Concourse.

No split. There wasn't a 1 mile split, at least none that I had seen. Perhaps we hadn't reached it yet, but we were running too long and I felt too fatigued for that to be true. Certainly I didn't want it to be true. I looked at my watch...we'd been running for over 9 minutes. This was confusing for me. Often I run the first mile too fast and, when I see my over speedy split I slow down...frequently too late to avoid paying for it late in the race. But now I hadn't gotten my warning. Was I going too fast? I'd tried to be moderate but I never know. Still, I felt reasonably strong.

We came to a turnaround on the Concourse. Was this the half way point? I kept a steady pace and soon we turned off the Grand Concourse. Was this the 2 mile point? Still no markers. Now I did feel fatigued and my mouth was very dry. If the first mile was mostly downhill wouldn't the finale be mostly up? Logically, yes, but I hoped that logic was off. It wasn't. My watch read just under 14 minutes. If there was just about a mile left then I was right near pace. If not....It didn't seem fair to not know. Still I kept pushing on.

But that effort seemed to slow to a crawl on the hills leading back to campus. About half way up one, a runner went passed. I didn't really care...till I noticed that he had grey hair...perhaps he was in my age group! The course leveled and I saw the gateway to the campus. I thought the race would end just inside. Summoning my last bit of energy I kicked passed him...while hoping that the race really was near the finish. It was! As I pushed to the end, easily out running my competitor, I noticed something surprising...The clock hadn't reached 21 minutes yet! I was way ahead of my hoped for pace. AND, I'd only beaten 21 minutes once before. I strained to do it again...

But I didn't make it!! I came across in 21:01, a time that I was EXREMELY happy with, my second fastest 5K ever.

Walking slowly, I learned that the runner I'd just managed to beat was, indeed, in my age group. In fact a runner right behind him was also in our group. If another age group competitor finished in the small group of runners ahead of me, I could have been knocked right out of an award. And, seeing, the gorgeous trophies on the table nearby, I was very glad that hadn't happened...

...Until I mentioned that to the race director who said that none of the trophies were for the 5K!! The big event of the day was their 10K...a distance they'd been racing for years. This was the first year they'd added the 5K and they had no idea how many people would compete. So they only planned awards for the top 3 male and top 3 female finishers.

What a rip off!! No splits, no trophies, maybe they won't even post our times. RIP OFF!!!

But I don't really care. I know my time and I know that I should have won an award. And I know one other thing as well...

...I'm back!!!!!

RELAXING

Relaxing makes me nervous. When I try...via meditation, yoga, breathing exercises, relaxation techniques...my head fills with all sorts of very active thoughts. I've run many races, batted in countless clutch situations, taken on multi problems, all in my mind as I've tried to relax. Soon I'm feeling a sense of urgency that is anything but soothing. I've got to stop this time wasting technique and get to doing...whatever! Till finally, just the thought of taking 10 minutes to relax seems overwhelming.

But the thought of rising blood pressure also makes me nervous. Both my parents have/had high blood pressure, so, genetically, my BP future doesn't look bright unless I somehow get hold of it. I don't want medication. Diet modification is part of it. So is, I've heard, relaxation. But I can't seem to do that, certainly not consistantly, alone.

I need a relaxation Personal Trainer.

I heard of a product called Resperate. It is a device that uses simple guided imagery and musical tones to slow breathing into what it calls the "theraputic zone" of less than 10 breathes per minute. This zone, it claims, relaxes the arterial system, easing blood flow and lowering blood pressure. Do this several times a week for 6 weeks or so and the accumulating theraputic effect becomes permanent. What's to lose by trying it? Three hundred dollars. No other risks that I can see.

It came yesterday and it was easy to hook up. And easy to get going. And simple to bring my breathing rate into the Theraputic Zone. And easy to maintain it well under 10. But still weird and unsettling to concentrate on Just Breathing.

So I looked at the dials. I sampled all the different musical prompts. I discovered all the various measurement scales. I followed time of exercise, time in Zone, rate of breathing. I wondered if this was counterproductive. I wondered if I was holding my breath too much at the end of the inhalation. Perhaps this was lowering my rate non theraputically? The total time was dragging. Could I possibly make it for the full term of 15 minutes? Would the usefulness be totally defeated if I didn't? Would it really matter if I did? Was I getting anxious? My breathing rate remained low and in the zone. Perhaps it didn't matter if I was anxious. But if it was all so problematic this time, how could I possibly hope to do it consistantly? What a waste of money this could be, and....

....The phone rang. I was glad. I answered it. I put the device away.

Today I tried it again. It was much easier. I got in the Zone, stayed, lower and lower in the Zone till my breathing rate was barely above 4 per minute. I didn't change the music or examine the other measurements. I closed my eyes, relaxed, breathed...and occassionally looked at the clock sitting across from me! It was soothing to watch the minute hand move out of the twenties and into the thirties. I was progressing through the alloted time and getting closer to the finish.

The phone didn't ring and I did my 15 minutes. Though I have a real race tomorrow morning I didn't preview it in my mind or start thinking about my time goals. I didn't run any fantasy races or take any imaginary at bats. I didn't do any errands or solve any problems.

It was nice, actually. Relaxing.

A start.

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

Somethings wrong. Several things, actually. I don't like it. And I don't know why it's happening. Or what to do about it.

I had my physical last week. I used to look forward to them because I'd hear all the numbers that showed what great (or at least good) condition I'm in. Sometimes that's still true; sometimes not. Sometimes the numbers scare me. Elevated blood pressure. Elevated PSA. Elevated terror.

So I went apprehensively for the exam. I had no symptoms of any kind. Nothing bothered me and nothing hurt me and everything was functioning. On the other hand, my weight was up, so was my body fat and my running speed was down. I attributed all of that to my 3 weeks without any kind of training when I was ill in December and January. What would the doctor see and the tests show?

Most everything was fine. Some things were very good...resting heart rate of 45, lung test showing mine functioned like a 15 year old's! But the blood pressure was problematic...140/80. I was surprised that Marty (my doctor) said it was ok and not to worry. Body fat was over 18%. Not terrible, but certainly not great.

Then I got the blood results a few days later. Again, nothing bad. But my cholesterol is over 200...more than a 60 point jump. How could that happen!!!! True, my good cholesterol was up to 71, the best it's ever been, but how could the bad be so much higher? What a mystery! Marty wants to retest in 3 months.

And, on top of all this, the blood in stool test showed a positive (1 of the 3 times I did it, actually). That doesn't necessarily mean anything terrible, the results can be influenced by various factors. We were planning a sigmoidoscopy this year anyway (for colon cancer), so I just moved it up to next week. But anxiety about that till at least then.

Numbers, numbers. What do they even mean? They mean that I'm going in the wrong direction, I'd say. I'm unhappy about this. It feels out of my control. Arbitrary. Very unsettling. It makes me SO uneasy. Is it age? Should I just accept this deterioration as inevitable? Am I doing anything to foster it? Is there anything I can do to make this better?

I'm lazy. That's what it is. Not about everything, of course. I work out hard and, of late, my hard workouts are paying off as my speed increases, my weight comes down, my strength goes up and I just saw a body fat reading of 17% on my scale. But I am lazy in other ways.

I don't cook. I order out. Or go to restaurants. Or delis. I get good stuff there, but how good can it be? How much salt in the soups, fatty mayonaise in the tuna, sugar in the energy bars? Could these things hurt my blood pressure and cholesterol? Of course. Why do I allow it? Because I'd rather be doing other stuff than cooking and, later, cleaning.

I know I should try to relax. Seriously, I should. Yoga, meditation, deep breathing exercises, stretching. Something. But I don't. Why? Because it makes me jumpy to not be active. I have to force myself to close my eyes, suspend my thoughts, do nothing and...relax.

Sometimes I feel helpless and life is partly out of control. I must take hold of it and do what I can. Perhaps it is age and genetics. Perhaps it is only partly. Perhaps any attempts will be futile. I don't believe that, but maybe.

I've started to do some things. New cooking stuff, new steamer, new blender, new containers of oatmeal and wheat germ. Starting isn't the most difficult part, of course. The hardest is integrating it into my life and maintaining it, cause I've done it before. I've begun to cook. And clean up afterwards.

Will I be able to continue doing what I think is best for me? If I can't, then that is what's REALLY wrong with me.

SATISFACTION

I'm satisfied with today's race. I ran the 4-miler in 28:49, a 38 second improvement over 2 weeks ago, a performance that meets all the reasonable goals I set out yesterday.

And, as a bonus, I took third place honors out of 77 men in my age group. My time doesn't merit an award, of course, but it's still nice to get one!

The weather was reasonable and it was SO NICE to be running in shorts and singlet. I lined up near the front with many faster racers because it just doesn't pay to be further back. The bottlenecks at the start are getting worse and worse as NYRRC compresses us into smaller parts of the road, and they're having a growing impact on early pace. I want no part of that even if it means getting pulled out too fast...

...Which, of course, I was. My first two miles were just a bit over 7 minutes and I just can't sustain that pace...yet. Coach Bob went past me on the second mile but the other runners I was aware of remained comfortably behind. Mile 3 with the west side hills was too draining and my pace slowed. I had Bob in sight the whole way but I didn't have the necessary oomph to go after him. Or anyone else ahead of me. The final west side hill came at the start of mile 4 and that was even more depleting. I was able to speed up a bit on the downhills, however, and finished up okay. I wish I could brag about my final kick but I had none. I had all I could do to maintain my pace thru the finish.

I was happy when it was over. So pleased was I as I mulled it over that I forgot to run my 2 mile cooldown. No problem. I think I cool down better with a slow walk and an apple.

I didn't reach my unrealistic goals, but that's also okay. Soon they won't be unrealistic. :-))

ANSWERING THE CURRENT CRUCIAL QUESTION

Tomorrow, I race again. This is the chance to answer my Current Crucial Question: Am I better now than I was 2 weeks ago?

Two weeks ago is when I had my last race. It was a 4-miler that I ran in the relatively slowpoke time of 29:27. To be fair to myself, running at all, and not getting hurt or reinjured was a nice step forward. But now my hopes are a little grander. The event tomorrow is another 4 mile race so I can see just how much 14 days of steady training has done for me. Last year I ran 27:29, my second fastest ever...and I beat that by 10 seconds 3 weeks later. Damn I was in good shape! Well, that's not happening tomorrow, but here is what I hope will:

1-Beat my last race of 29:27. Since weather conditions should be better, it would be pretty much of a disaster if I don't!

2-Break 29:00. It's just a number, but 28:59 seems far more than just 1 second better than 29:00. That's a 7:15 pace and should be doable.

3-Two years ago, I did 28:56...and took second place in my age group! The reason is that most everyone was doing that day's 15K race. Well, I can only hope that happens again. I'll be pleased to run faster even if I place far lower than second.

4-Run Even Faster. Running faster is always my goal. I doubt that I can do much better than the goals already noted, but, of course, I hope that I can and will. Sometimes I surprise myself and sometimes that's in a good way! So here's what I hope for, semi-fantasticly :
-Break 7:10 pace.
-Finish under 28:30.
-Approach 28 Flat.
-Beat 28 Minutes.

These range from very unlikely to virtually impossible unless there's a strong tail wind the entire time on a circular course. But, of course, still...

...We'll see what tomorrow brings!

I RACED

Last week I raced.

I didn't get hurt. A week later and I'm still not hurt.

So that's the good news. In fact, that's the very good news. All that I could have hoped for, really, considering the training time I've missed.

My race time was not the good news, though it was about what I expected. It shows that I have a long way to go to get back to the speeds I was running last year at this time and during the summer of 2005. Not surprising, of course, but, on the other hand, it would have been nice to be surprised!

Lately there's been several reminders of areas in which I've fallen back. In the gym Wednesday afternoon, a trainer asked if I'd like to do a body fat measurement. He had a device that you grab with both hands. It looks like it works similarly to the scale I have at home which sends a mild electrical current through the body and measures resistance (muscle is more electrically resistant than fat or is it the other way?). Well, my scale hasn't been giving such wonderful readings and this test didn't either, showing my body fat at slightly above 20%. I know several reasons why this measurement is inexact, but it is similar to my recent scale readings so I guess I've blubbered up.

My weight, likewise, has increased. I've been up by about 7 or 8 pounds and fearful of trying on my usually tight jeans. I am down a bit from my peak, but definitely still heavier. My heart rate during runs also appears up and my resting heart rate, which I took the other morning also reads higher.

To top it off, I came, by chance, on a page in my running log where I'd written weight, body fat and resting heart rates over several days 18 months ago. It confirms that verything has moved in the wrong direction...as though I needed that black and white verification!!

Is it age? Laziness? Cumulative effects of the various illnesses and injuries? Evidence that everything I've thought was good and healthful is really not?

Humbling, no doubt. I see myself as an athlete who's in very good condition and none of this confirms that point of view. I'm most bothered by the body fat reading as I've been much more consistent with weight training since early January.

Softball is coming up and I'm aware of my declining abilities there. I no longer feel confident about my place in the starting lineup on my teams. Sports has a lot to do with how I feel about myself and all of this is difficult. I feel a constant degree of low level anxiety of late. I remind myself to relax and enjoy what I have, not pressure myself and to stay with the consistency of my efforts which has, of late, been quite good.

I ran 10 miles today. Nothing spectacular, but solid. I plan an easy 5 miler for tomorrow. Though I know that's the proper workout for me, there is a voice urging me to do a hard, speed run. I'm behind, I need to catch up, I should ignore recent injuries and aches and pains and push myself. Not too bright if I'd like to stay healthy, but an extra speed workout would help allay my anxiety about declining abilities...allay, that is, till I felt a twitch in my calf which fueled my fear of injury.

I'll keep up a steady effort and stay away from the prune scones that call to me from the cafe across the street from my gym. There's a 4 mile race next weekend and I'd like to run it faster than the race last week, faster than when I ran it 2 years ago and accept that there's no way I can even approach how well I did 12 months ago. Then I'll know something more and, hopefully, my confidence will get a boost.

Though of course there will be more to worry about in the next week.

MARATHON DREAMING

The marathon is, apparently, deep within my psyche. Last week I had 2 Marathon dreams, both about New York, on consecutive nights:

Dream 1: I ran a really great time...3:10! I employed a unique strategy. After running the first half in 1:45 I went home and took a nap. Since the race was scored by running chip time, I knew that my rest wouldn't work against me. However, I didn't want to delay too long because Shelly, my running coach would be disappointed if I reached the finish 7 hours after the race began. So I went back to the mid way point and ran the rest of the way in an extremely fast time, 1:25, giving me my overall time of 3:10. This was my fastest Marathon BY FAR. I was very proud.

I wrote to Coach Bob's Diary (this is true, not part of the dream) to describe my dream and suggest (humorously, of course!) that this strategy of resting between marathon halves could be used by others. Bob failed to appreciate the humor and responded seriously that time would accumulate while resting. Disappointed, it would seem, by Bob's failure to enjoy the joke, this is what I dreamed next:

Dream 2: I completed the second half of the NY Marathon FIRST and then went to the starting line to run the initial section. I struggled to find the way, however, and it took quite a while till I arrived at the start. Finally I did, but I did not run well. My overall time was disappointing.

In this dream, Bob was right. The clock kept going all the while I was between the second half of the course and the first.

Interpretation: The marathon is on my mind. I think it shows that the disappointment I felt at being ill, missing the Disney Marathon and not running for almost 3 weeks is still with me and that it is very strong. I handled this period as well as I could. I did all I could to get well, took time off from work, amused myself in various ways (including blog writing), accepted that I would miss the race pretty well, didn't try to be heroic and didn't overly obsess about it. Still...WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT!!!!! My psyche, apparently, is still working through it. The oddness of my dream races, I think, reflect how strange it is for me to miss such a big event and to be sidelined for so long. The first dream is an attempt to make this ordeal into something good...I run, by far, my best time. But it's a fragile attempt and Bob's reality comment apparently undercuts the attempt and leads to the disappointment in the second dream.

Oh, well!!

DREAM

Last night I dreamt that Wanda (my running mate and friend) and I joined the Army. We were waiting to be assigned to our barracks for basic training, but we didn't like the one we were assigned to...it was unfinished. So we said no. The Army was fine about it and put us back on the line of soldiers still waiting. Unfortunately, we were again assigned to the unfinished barracks. Suddenly I became frightened and told Wanda that we must stay together. Then I went up to an officer to complain. He responded: "Mike...may I call you Mike?" I said that was fine and he directed me to the proper person to talk with.

Unfortunately, I had no idea what he meant. Had he said a name or someone's title? I didn't know. I walked in the direction that he had motioned me, hoping for the best.

Interpretation: Wanda and I have been in some running and racing battles together and it's like we are kindred warrior souls, just like being soldiers in the Army. But we still need to train to make ourselves better, just like we aspire to be in the finished, not unfinished barracks. But I'm not confident of the information that I have.

Nah, I don't think that's it!

NO LONGER A TEN

Numbers are important to me. So it is with happiness that I announce that I am no longer a 10!!!!

Though I've been a 10 on several occasions, it never lasts for long. This time was similarly brief...3 days.

A 10 is what I become when recovering from injury. I run slowly, a 10 minute per mile pace, to lower the risk of reinjury. So in my Thursday (10:36), Saturday (10:15) and Sunday (10:02) jogs I was a 10 plus. But, as you can see, my pace came down, as did my heart rate, each time. Though I was a 10, I was an IMPROVING 10. In addition, with less and less pressure on the injured area each time, my confidence was similarly improving.

So today (Tuesday) I went out (well, actually in, to the health club's tread mill...too frosty outside) and ran and found that I am a 10 no more! My pace picked up nicely to 9:38 per mile for 5 miles. And my heart rate improved as well. I'm back on the road.

And so I can now say: "Today I am a Nine." With even better numbers, hopefully, in store.

RUNNING AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME

Lately it seems that I'm always starting over. Today I ran for the first time in a week. I'm glad to be running again. And frustrated to be coming back from yet another interuption.

When I injured my calf last Wednesday I didn't want to acknowledge that I was hurt. I wasn't running fast or doing anything risky so, therefore, nothing should have happened. I should've been fine. But I couldn't finish the run, I was limping for the next 2 days and walking down steps really pained me. Running was out of the question and, after cross training for the first time on Sunday, the calf ached when I walked.

On Monday I went to my sports chiropractor. A technician there looked at my leg and said that the achilles area was swollen. It really upset me to hear this. Apparently there was visual proof that something was wrong, concrete evidence that I was injured. I had wanted them to say that all was fine, even though my experience the last few days said that it wasn't. Then the doctor worked the area over and said not to worry, that I would heal soon. Heal? Apparently he was saying that he too believed that there was an injury that had to heal. No one was supporting my "I'm okay" fantasy. What was wrong with these people?

The doctor said that it was some mild tendonitis, a strain of the muscle that raises the foot and also a strain of the gastroc. Nothing serious. After treatement he suggested ice and 2 more days without running. "Aim for Thursday," he said. Vigorous cross training was fine till then; just ice afterwards. Okay.

So this morning I ran. And, on the first step, I felt it. Pressure in the injured area on the lower inside of the left calf. And each step I continued to feel it. This was not a good or hopeful start. But the pressure never got worse except for 2 twinges I felt during the first mile. I considered stopping but instead plunged on, hoping there wouldn't be a real problem. There wasn't and I completed a VERY slow 2 miles.

After stretching I set off for another mile, not quite as slowly. The area still felt some pressure but it was actually better. After the planned mile I decided to go for another. It felt even better. That was it. Four uninjured miles was enough for my new start. My heart rate for such a slow run (average over 10 minutes per mile) was awfully high (125 beats per minute...at that pace it should have been barely over 110). Obviously I've got a long way to go.

But at least I'm running again for the first time.