The Future!

Hello, My Lone Faithful Readers,

I feel like we have forged a strong relationship over the last 18 months and I want to share something personal with you — something known only to those who I hold very near and dear to me I think would care.  As I am sure you have guessed, running is a bit of a hobby.  I dabble.  But it is not the final frontier.

“What!? What is this nonsensical nonsense?” you exclaim.

Well, my friends, fear not.  Running will still be a part of the master plan; it just might have two friends to tag along (which is more than I can say for myself…).  I realize I still haven’t said what I’m saying, so I’ll say it right after I finish saying this.

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Hains Point

Oh Hains Point.  More like Pains Hoint. Running around Hains Point is just painful.  I headed down there this morning to get my run on, and realized why a) I don’t ever train there, and b) don’t like that part of Marine Corps Marathon.  It’s just flat and boring.  I’ve never run it in the morning, though, and I was surprised by how many people are biking around the little island.

The thing is, it seems like biking is the way to go.  I’d say I saw 3 other runners plodding along and maybe 40 bikers zipping around.  It’s about a 3-mile loop around the south end of the island, so I got to see some flamboyant aerodynamic cycling outfits 2, 3, or even 7 times… like when I saw one really ridiculously dressed fast girl guy 7 times.

All the speedy bikes definitely made me feel slow special for not being one of the crowd.  They were probably all passing me thinking “hmm, he looks awesome.  I think it’s because he’s running and I’m just riding my bike like the other 40 people including that girl guy.”  I could basically read it on their faces.

There were a few roller bladers too.  I thought those were extinct.  Like dinosaurs.  And Furbies.

Anyway, it was a run of pros and cons, ultimately leaning towards the cons.  Doubt I’ll be back, but that’s what I say now.  We’ll see what happens when it’s 6am and I need to think of where to run 12 miles on-the-fly-run.

Tuesday’s Medium Long Run:


Distance: 12 miles
Time: 1:40:57
Pace: 8:24 min/mile
Average HR: 152 bpm (171 bpm max)

Biking all the way to the bank

Insurance companies aren’t always the worst.  I guess not all of them follow after AIG and their brethren.  Instead, State Farm came through in the clutch.  Quick background story so everyone’s on the same page:

I got a bike last September for my birthday.  It was glorious.  A real steal off of craigslist.  Well, the weather turned chilly.  Too chilly in fact to ride it much during the Winter.  So it stayed locked up in my apartment building’s garage.  After the cold weather got tired of being cold, it started to warm up.  Hooray!  Time to ride the bike!  I get down to unlock it, stare at the bike rack, and see my lock cut in half, lying on the floor, mocking me.  I even tried it with the key to make sure it was mine.  It was.

So, after a bout of infuration coupled with disbelief, I told people of my tragedy.  I received some sage advice from an unlikely source: Brent.  Presumably because of his age experience, he told me to check my renter’s insurance to see if it covered my bike.  I did and it did!  After some legwork (left a message for my insurance agent Garrrrry) I filed a claim.  Surprisingly after very little work on my part, a check was sent my way and I was able to get a new bike!

My New Bike! So fast that the black paint can't even stay on.

My New Bike! So fast that the black paint can't even stay on.

I’ve ridden it a few times so far and, if you weren’t jealous already, you should be.  It’s sweet!  Thanks to the Bicycle Pro Shop for all their help getting me squared away.  Now the bike lives in our apartment never to be stolen again.

PS- if you have my old bike and are reading this, I’d like to grab coffee with you some time.  You can bring my old bike along and we can go for a ride.  It’ll be fun!

PPS- if you didn’t steal my bike and are reading this, I’m planning on meeting up with the guy who stole my bike and punching him in the face.  Hopefully he’ll bring my old bike too so I can get it back.

Friends Don’t Let Friends Run Angry

Things were shaping up nicely on Saturday.  There was an actual gameplan, not just waiting to see what presented itself (usually sitting on the couch watching tv presents itself).  But not this Saturday!  We walked up 14th St to some shops then swung by the farmer’s market on 14 & U.  Got some bread, an apple, you know, a relaxing little Saturday.  Ev then had to go into work (sucks!), so we parted ways when the bus came.  

While walking back I decided to swing by The Bike Rack to possibly buy a cycling jersey.  I’ve been getting geared up to ride my bike for the first time in awhile now that the weather was improving and finished up a big research paper.  They didn’t have much in stock, and nothing in my size, so I left empty-handed with a new plan: Head home, change into cycling gear (minus jersey), ride out to lunch, return some books, swing by City Sports for a jersey, and then go for a longer ride.  Brilliant plan!

1) Go home: check.
I changed and headed down to the third floor of the parking garage (better known as P3 by my elevator) to grab my bike.  Walked over to where it should have been, and that’s when the plan went straight to hell.   I stood there for a second staring at the bike rack thinking if it could have been on another floor.  Then I noticed there was a gap in the row of bikes.  At the bottom of that gap there was a bike lock and the wire that loops through the frame and wheels was cut.  I continued to stare, confounded by the situation.  I bent down and even checked if my lock key fit the lock… yep.  DAMMIT!

At this point the rest of the great plan is shot.  Sparing the details, I end up back in my apartment and decide to run off some steam.  I didn’t care if I was supposed to run easy on Sunday; I didn’t care if it was 87 degrees outside; I didn’t care if the person who took my bike got hit by a bus.  (Actually, I did care.  I very much would have liked that to happen)

I started out pretty quick for the first mile (7:37 min/mile) and decided to push it harder.  The 1 mile mark is where I generally have to make the decision where the rest of my run is going to take me.  I wasn’t sure how long the total would be, but I chose to head down into Virginia, across a few bridges, and end up at Eastern Market.  It could have been 5 miles, it could have been 12.  I figured I’d just run until I got there and see what my Garmin said.

The second mile was 7:16 min/mile.  That’s when the heat started to get to me and the wheels began to fall off.  Using the anger and adrenaline to keep going, I got to mile 3 and had to stop.  My heartrate was approaching the stratosphere (metaphor for really high) and I couldn’t hold the pace.  The sun sucked any energy reserves out of me and I struggled through the rest of the run, which ended up totaling 8 miles even.

Turns out that running on emotions can lead to running on fumes.  I was completely drained afterwards, so it did its job of releasing some steam.  At this point I’ve filed a police report, submitted a claim with my insurance, and waiting to talk to my building management.  Hopefully there will be better news in the days (ha! probably months) to come.  In hindsight Ev pointed out that it’s replaceable and not the end of the world.  At the time, though… ohhhh boy.  

Thanks for letting me vent.

Ever decide to run simply because you were sad / angry / happy?  Let me hear about it in the comments!  It’ll make me feel better.


Distance: 8.00 miles
Time: 1:04:34
Pace: 8:04 min/mile
Average Heartrate: 171 bpm