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Gonzo Runner

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Everything posted by Gonzo Runner

  1. Every time I complain about life getting in the way, I remember - "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" (John Lennon). I've managed to get in a lot more living remembering that. I already can't wait until next year.
  2. I opened up my Google doc and realized I still have a 3/4 written NY Marathon report I never finished. Was so much fun I won't mind reliving it a bit. Working on it.
  3. Gonzo Runner

    Boston 2019

    That was a good one.
  4. Gonzo Runner

    Grinding it Out

    We get more out of the hard days than the easy ones. Hang in there.
  5. I don't know how you did all that hiking AFTER the marathon. But looks like it was worth it.
  6. Gonzo Runner

    Confronting the fear

    Run for you, and enjoy whatever that looks like. Otherwise you end up dreading what you once loved.
  7. Oh man these are so f-ing good. Got my soundtrack for the day now, thanks.
  8. "If the weatherman is correct" is a dangerous statement.
  9. Gonzo Runner

    The Fatigue Chronicles

    A pot of fresh coffee after a cold rain run is one of my favorite things. And yes, a whole pot.
  10. I have never been a morning person. I don’t understand morning people. I’m not sure I even trust morning people. I don’t think the day should start until 11:30 am. Before that time, my level of motor function is akin to those beetles that get flipped upside down and flop around helplessly unless someone pushes them back over. And my cognitive state is such that it feels like everyone is speaking to me in Portuguese. I don’t speak Portuguese. As a result, I am usually an insufferably irritable asshole until sometime in the early afternoon when sufficient caffeine and calories have been absorbed to transform me into a productive member of society. Still an asshole though, more often than not. It’s kind of my jam. Despite 36 years of this behavior pattern today, for the third time in a week, I woke up and ran before work. Now, because of the contempt I have for my place of employment and the incredible job security I have since my two would-be replacements quit, I rarely show up before 10 am anyway, so this is a somewhat low bar. But even still, I am usually grunting at the coffee pot in my underwear until 8:45 most days, so the fact that I’ve been knocking out 6 and 8 milers by then is something of a miracle. I’ve honestly tried to become a morning runner roughly 47,316 times before, but it’s never stuck. I can usually slog through some morning runs when I have to travel for work or when it is absolutely imperative to keep up with a training plan, but it’s usually with the same enthusiasm one would reserve for a root canal performed by a proctologist not wearing gloves. And believe me, I’ve tried the “oh just lay your clothes out the night before to save time” or “program your automatic coffee pot before you go to bed” but all that ever results in is me trying to drink coffee out of a sock at 5:30 in the morning. [Insert seeming non-sequitur which will be used to tie things up in the end here] There’s a medical condition called foreign accent syndrome. Basically, some people who’ve experienced a head injury or trauma or a stroke suddenly sound like they’re speaking with a foreign to them accent. So, someone in Alabama trips and hits their head and suddenly sounds like the Queen of England. Or a person has a stroke in Beijing and then sounds like the McKenzie Brothers. There are even unconfirmed cases of people actually speaking another language after a trauma, which would be fascinating and horrifying if true. When I bounced out of bed last Friday at 6 am and with no prior planning just decided to do my easy 8 before work, The Wife thought I just didn’t sleep well. I concurred. When I got up at 6 am on Tuesday, my off day, and cheerfully had breakfast with her before she ran she thought I was buttering her up for Valentine’s Day. When I got up Wednesday and ran 8 with her, she was convinced of it. But it wasn’t until I woke HER up to run 6 this morning that she asked if everything was OK. The foreign accent thing popped into my head, so I asked her if one side of my face was drooping. This did not allay her concern, but she also didn’t say it was, so I’m taking that as a no. And after a week of this, I have to say, it is SO nice coming home from work and opening a beer instead of my running drawer. And I’m so much more productive at work, it’s like someone added 4 more hours to the day. So for now I’m just going to, well, run with it. I told The Wife not to worry, that I was fine as long as I didn’t start speaking in Portuguese. The way she looked at me made me wonder if there wasn’t a head injury after all...
  11. Runners are all crazy. Something always hurts, our laundry pile smells like a slaughter house, our cars are full of half empty water bottles and granola bar wrappers, and we have shoes that are somehow ALWAYS FUCKING DAMP. The key is to be Andy Kaufman crazy, not Ted Kaczynski crazy. Do what you gotta do.
  12. You should wear the sparkle skirt when you bench press with the meat heads. I bet you won't have anyone ask you to work in.
  13. Gonzo Runner

    any demons ?

    I can't keep up with that company on the speed side. But the demon side, well, hold my beer... Thanks for the recommendation, I am about to need another book and this sounds interesting.
  14. Gonzo Runner

    Back in the Race

    ^ and ^^ 10ks are the BEST distance! It's amazing how you can go from "I might be dying" to miraculously finding another gear when there's a rival or a challenger suddenly present. Way to hold off M and finish strong!
  15. Yeesh that elevation profile! People like Alice need to switch to decaf. Yes I know I'm a curmudgeon.
  16. One of the first things my dad taught me about cars was to bang on a headlight that goes out. I got an extra 3 months out of a bulb once using the technique.
  17. Gonzo Runner

    She's Got the Rhythm

    "Hot Power Fusion Yoga" sounds like a random name generator coming up with an activity for millennials. Do love some sweaty namaste though.
  18. Gonzo Runner

    Boston - Weeks 3-5

    All of this^.
  19. That cold, rainy, windy long run sounds awful, I shivered reading about it. It may be a struggle now, but the work will pay off.
  20. Gonzo Runner

    The Park

    All I could think of was this.
  21. Gonzo Runner

    The Park

    The Park’s hours officially extend to 11pm, but it may as well be closed by the time I turn onto the paved trail along its perimeter. It’s dark, and while the polar vortex has yet to reach this far south the 37 degree temperature has the same effect on Atlantans that -50 has on Minnesotans. I pass a few people walking dogs or using the pathway as a cut through on their walks home from work, but I know as I leave the perimeter and venture deeper into the Park, I will be alone. My pace quickens at the thought. As the path winds its way into the Park’s interior, the noise of the city fades. I run along the edge of The Meadow, a wide grass field at the southeastern corner, and look west towards the Midtown skyline. There are few lights in the Park and a gust of cold wind has my eyes tearing just enough to make the bright windows of the high rises dot the black horizon like an earthbound star field. I know they are actually the offices of clients or colleagues and homes where people are enduring the mundanities of life: making dinner, paying bills, negotiating how many more bites of dinner are needed to earn dessert. But for now all that may as well be as distant as the stars. This is my time in the quiet darkness of the Park. I make my way deeper into the Park, past the urban garden and near the dog runs, and the isolation becomes almost a physical sensation. The sudden absence of people, noise, light, and even somehow the cold wind leaves a palpable sort of empty white noise hanging in the air. It’s just me and the trail. I weave my way along the path and it suddenly smells like I’m in the middle of a pine forest. I decide if I’m having a stroke no one will find me until morning and at least I’ll be going out happy, but then I see the source of the smell. It dawns on me that the piles of fresh mulch were just a month ago Christmas trees, and images of revelry under colorful lights and tinsel and mistletoe flashed through my mind. What didn’t was the argument between the cousin who whipped out his red hat at dinner and sat next to the cousin who dressed up as Rachel Maddow for Halloween. Or the aunt who asked her gay nephew if the holy water burned his fingers as they walked into midnight mass. Or the arguments over money or not calling enough or when are you having kids. Those were all ground away by the wood chippers; the lingering scent was too light to carry the weight of those memories to these depths of the Park. I looped around the Active Oval, the gravel 800 meter-ish track which rings the usually packed soccer and softball fields. By now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could clearly see the freezing puddles which in the day I am too distracted to avoid. I listened to the rhythm of my breathing and the jazzy percussion of my footfalls crunching along the track and how it, instead of the din of the fields, echoed off the stone stairs as I ran by. It’s a strange feeling to be so isolated in such an expansive place. You expect there to be people, to feel the buzz of activity all around you. You expect to be surrounded by all those things that are part of modern life, and then feel liberated by what you can see and hear and think in their absence. Tonight it is my Park. All the noises, all the thoughts, all the actions that fill this vast place are mine and mine alone. By me, and for me. The blaring horn of the car running the red light and barreling into the same crosswalk I was using to reenter the city shattered my peace so abruptly I thought I might get the bends. The driver had the gall to scream at me for flipping them off as I stood there blocking their transgression, my profane gesture apparently more offensive to them than vehicular manslaughter. But hey, the world is full of idiots and assholes. Sometimes I’m even one of them. Most days I can deal with it just fine. When I can’t, I know I have the Park.
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