Last to First

The words came before the music. Now at home. Alone. Strangely so. Though jolly good on this last day of the month and then into the new of tomorrow.

 

Music at home (on old time-y compact disc) in a mini-stereo:

Lady Gaga – Born This Way

Paul Smith – Margins

Words of the day (New York Times old time-y newspap) at work:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/30/technology/personaltech/30basics.html

http://gadgetwise.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/26/how-fast-should-your-cameras-memory-card-be/

http://gadgetwise.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/28/a-gateway-to-great-books-on-your-iphone/

 

car in corner

The race of yesterday

Epic.

Not really; not on a large scale, nor a marathon.

Rather the genesis of a thing. The challenge of getting up, being motored in public transit, picking up the kit, fixing the bib on, checking the bag, seeking out the chip, pottering about, walking down to the race line, waiting about in the nippy air, crossing over and then the countdown. And the run. The whole way. And finishing.

In the morning, surprised to see the slow of some lady as she chose seventy-five little doughnut rounds and my hopes for grounds with hot water over and into a vessel, poured into a cup to go went away with that time taken by filling boxes and boxes of sweet treats. At a little after seven, certainly still a bit astounded by the early doughnut order and then more than a bit mystified by the many, many people on the bus in the morning. Are they all going running at this hour, I then did wonder.

Transit without issue, excitement building as I draw ever closer to venue, seeing some ladies in sneakers, knowing full well those quite new, quite white shoes were going to run along that way to the race of the day. They went on down to the platform for the other line, I found my way out, over to the breakfast of champions (coffee and a muffin) and back into the metro system, on down to the busy platform filled with race types, surprised and pleased the frequency of the trains seemed to be up for the event.

It was all quite evident, teeming troves of types such as me, ready to get busy and run, headed over to the check-in place. An assortment of individuals. Young children, ages in between and older folks full of heads of grey. Some attired in a quite casual way, others in very definite fancy road race gear.

All was smooth and quick and fast for race kit pick-up, bag check-in and over to the chip timer pick-up. Walk about a bit, sort of slightly stretch just a touch, then the announcement we should allow at least five minutes to meander over to the start line, so onward I go.

I hear my name. Amidst hundreds upon hundreds of people, cross paths with a person I know from the place I did grow up in. She is still there. I am here. No knowledge of the presence of the other, sheer happenstance how do. Later in the waiting about before the start line, see a lady I know from the library. Wildly small world.

Race! Excitement! The first kilometre fairly well clipped on by. Two felt like it took longer to get to, probably did, pace change perhaps. Over the bridge, sport drink sort of stop, slosh some into mouth, toss the most of it as progress is imperative, lick some off upper lip as I run on, back over the bridge. I could do intervals. I could walk. Everyone else around seems to be running, running. Keep on, motoring along by way of my fleet feet that have not run in a month and some, have never (save for maybe high school ages ago, maybe) run a whole long stretch without intervals, reach about the fourth kilometre for more sport slosh and sort of quick stop of sorts, run on and on. Draw ever closer to the end, speed up a spot, hearing names called as feet flat onto the chip time pad and there’s my name, loudspeakered into the world. Run on a bit beyond the end, grab a bottle of municipal tap water that has been re-filtered or  something and marketed in a bottle of a plastic order, stretch, look around, smile, nod, heartily to myself offer congratulations.

Tonnes of people milling about, weave ways through and around and by, fetch bag from the folk who kept things in separate specific areas by bib number, thank them, grab the gear and go off into the busy day ahead, having raced my way through a first ever 5K.

Hooray!

Forever!

XXL

When I was in Toronto, browsing a bit in the shops on Thursday, I did indeed see Drake on the cover of that Hip Hop magazine. Hooray! Good on ya man!

And of  ”Forever” – a grand tune (link you over in a new window to the Wikipedia entry) and ages since I have run.

Time though tomorrow, for that 5K race and it will be the re-introduction back into my running shoes.

This for the abridged fifteen days to train till the 10K race in Toronto on Sunday, 01 May 2010.

Ohhh noooes!

Weeks and weeks and weeks have gone on and on and on since I ran. Since I wrote. Twenty six days till Sunday, 18 April for the 5K. Forty days till Sunday, 02 May for the 10K.

So.

Today. Run again. Yes.

Monday, the first of March

Oh no! Yo! I did not run on Saturday when I should have done, though some cardio into Sunday what with dancing indoors on upper floors.

Today is a new day, new week, new month and I should see to the run. Do. Not. Feel. Like. It.

Set the bar too high? Perhaps so. Yet registered to go in just nine weeks to Toronto. Uh oh!

First Friday Rest

Monday run day. Tuesday a walk and hefting furniture about. Wednesday run day. Thursday yoga for a half hour. First Friday Rest. Best. I can take a deep breath, sit, stare out the window at the sky blue, with some white up right and consider the Saturday morning run to come, the Sunday rest and back around again on Monday to the run day.

Let’s talk about

gear and geography.

Shoes. What on earth do you do when there are puddles of slush all about and semi-frozen spells and the trees are drip, drip, dripping down on your head and little rivers rush down your neck?

Mobile phone.  As countdown timer. As intervals timer. As GPS. And then what when it runs out of battery power on the way?

You keep going, but of course, running in mini lakes in the base of your beloved, once completely dry shoes, estimating around about when you reckon the five minutes of running is up, walk possibly a spot longer than a minute and get back on again.

Night. Right. Run.

Yet, minutes plus an hour till midnight, already settled, of a sort, it would be far more fast to fall into sleep. Yet not so fancy to mess the plan on the second run day (three of the plan) just.

So, I will see you, of a fashion, after this nutty passion to train then run mad races in April, May, September and yet to register for that July jobby!

Day One – Run:Walk – 5:1

Times seven! Plus a five minute warm up and a five minute cool down. Then some stretching. And I did not fall down. Or die. Nor even fell completely horrible during the 42 (life, the universe and everything!) minutes of intervals.

Thus, five minute walk to warm up, (five minute run at an easy-ish pace with a one minute walk to wheeze – not fully completely – more like breathe deeply) times seven and a five minute cool down. Holy smokes. That is the most I have run in ages and ages. Some of this on hilly zones to boot.

A decent beginning to the path to Boston! 2011 that. Though for now, a spell of sleep, wake, 45 minute morning walk to work and some strength training of the late evening.

File under: What was I thinking!?!

I have gone ahead and done it. Run right into registration.

216 days until the Marathon! 69 days until the 10K! 55 days until the 5K! And tomorrow to register for the 20K that is 153 days away.

I now need to shake legs and train. Months and months and months (times two) plus one.

What was I thinking!?!