What do you need church shoes for? Jesus wore sandals.

Well, maybe if he'd had better arch support, they wouldn't have caught him.

11 November

CCFC - Race Report

Did you see the man in leopard skin tights?

No, but I ran next to a ninety year old man in hot pink tights with a fanny pack & no shirt. He was faster than me.

Road trip! Even though race started at 8:30am, we left at 6:30am just to make sure we were early. Traffic is always a mystery in N.O., but thankfully there were not stops on the interstate. We arrived at Tad Gormley Stadium around 7:50am, which left us enough time to pee, pick up our race tees and walk to the starting line.

Why do they call it Tad Gormely Stadium but Reggie Bush Field? Reggie just gets to claim the grass, but Tad gets the physical building? Hey Tad, the bathrooms inside are disgusting. Hey, Reggie the field is nice - I walked across it to the starting line.

The weather was miserable until the race started. Driving in it was overcast, cloudly and windy. However, the sun peaked out just for the event, which made me glad I was wearing a short sleeve shirt.

Lutey deserves some sort of medal for putting up with my neuroses. My constant dialog concerning the pros & cons of a long sleeve shirt vs a short sleeve shirt would have driven anyone else crazy. Instead she let me rattle on for an hour about clothing options. Eventually I choose the short sleeve shirt...even though I was cold. Lutey, the bad ass that she is, wore a sleeveless shirt. And, when asked if she was cold, she just stared at me. I bet that's the look she gives her kids.

Because I'm a slow-poke, I lined up all the way at the end of start area, mingling with most of the walkers. However, when the start gun went off, I spent lots of energy weaving in & out of walkers who choose to line up at the front of the pack. It was one big bottle neck for the first half-mile. Lutey trotted away within the first two minutes. She has a runner's body. I have a sleeper's body.

I finally settled into my jogging pace after the crowd thinned. Although I kept with my 12 minute mile, my heart rate was 30 beats per minute about my normal running rate. Somewhere around the mile & half mark I took a one minute walk break trying to bring my HR down - it didn't.

Some of the elite runners, who had finished the race earlier, were cheering us mortals on at the 2 mile marker. This is gonna sound corny, but it made me feel good to hear random strangers cheer for me. My pace group consisted of the old man in pink tights and a lady speed walker. If I think too much about this I'll get depressed. I'm as fast as, or as slow as, a ninety year old man. and a speed walker. Sigh.

Don't assume just because there's a chunky lady, with lots of junk in the trunk, that you're faster than her. She passed me up with one mile left.

With no distance markers, the last mile seemed to take forever. My legs started to feel like lead towards the end by my cardio was just fine. I crossed the finish line with a time of 37:43. Lutey, who finished with a 33:something, met me at the finish line & pointed me to the yogurt cups. Yogurt? WTF? Have you met me?

I had one, count it, one gatorade. Lutey had 1 bottle of water, 2 energy bars and a banana. She might have secretly also had some yogurt before my arrival. Next she inquired about my run and once I started talking I wouldn't shut up. I'm so self-centered I yapped about my heart rate, the wind, my pace group, my walk breaks and everything I could think of and never once asked her about her performance. However, she did notice the free Abita Beer. At 9:40am after running for 30 minutes and eating a second breakfast, Lutey enjoyed a cup of beer. Again, it proves that she is a bad ass. It's once again confirmed that I suck.

The wind and drizzle made everyone miserable, so we changed into warmer clothes and made our way back. My runner's high must have kicked in during the car ride because I would not shut up. I was Chatty Cathy. She quietly sat there for an hour only speaking up once asking for a pee break. This must be how she survives two small childre, ignoring them. After making it home, I indulged in 3 warm donuts and a large cup of coffee.

Despite the crappy weather and my sub-par training, I had a great time. There's a race in town on December 1st, The Reindeer Run. Maybe I'll have a beer after this one.

ramblings by Whitey on 2:30 PM
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07 November

The new Lysol

I'm constantly astonished by the cleaning habits of Large Marge. You might remember her from such topics as: Ewwww that's blood. She cleaned my desk today with Frebreeze. Well, that's different. My desk might be soiled with grime and dirt, but at least it smells clean.

ramblings by Whitey on 8:23 PM
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06 November

Hot To Trot

There's a little known nugget of info concerning running and the jarring of your digestive system. Some joggers and runners face the dreaded Runner's Trots. I don't think any explanation is necessary, but for the sake of clarity running = pooping. There, I said it. It's not a pleasant topic, but since I've already touched upon other body functions, another one can't hurt.

A common saying in the running world is never to shake the hand of a person wearing one sock.

Happily, I've been exempt to the trots; which, if you know anything about my digestive system, is totally amazing. Tonight I discovered eating a handful of Kraft caramels an hour before exercising, specifically jogging, is a very bad idea. I needed a quick and easy pick-me-up before my daily run and thought caramels would be the way to go. Mmmmm, Kraft caramels. Sure smarter running my eat a piece of fruit or a spoon of peanut butter, but I'm not a smarter runner. After reaching the 2 mile mark, I got the call. You know, the call from your colon.

Side note: My colon has a name; its name is Floyd. Several years ago, while on a long distance call to a friend, I mentioned a hurricane Floyd was headed our way. The only thing she heard was Floyd and assumed I was making some smartass comment about needing to end the call for an impending bathroom break. From then on my colon became Floyd. It's much easier to tell someone Ooops, I gotta go, Floyd is calling rather than I gotta hang up and poop. Maybe the men are on to something here by naming body parts. It's kinda fun. And since I'm talking about named body parts, I had a friend once who decided to name her boobs Bill & Ted. And if you asked her how she was doing, she always included Bill & Ted in her reply.

Anyway, the colon call causes me to stop in my tracks. I'm momentarily frozen. Next I curse my body and start walking home. But now the call is gone, disconnected if you will. So I turn around determined to finish my run. Fifty feet and 20 seconds later, Floyd phones in a distress call. Moving as fast as I can I make my way home again.

This story has a happy ending. Home was close enough to accept Floyd's call. However I think there's a lesson somewhere in this story. It's either wait until run is finished to eat caramels or eat caramels & screw the run.

ramblings by Whitey on 9:31 PM
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05 November

Body By Burger King

Usually, I pound the pavement 3 days a week (M,W,F) and kick karate (T,Th) the other days. Be prepared I'm about to spend several paragraphs bitching about nothing. What am I saying? I always spend several paragraphs bitching about nothing...that's what makes me great, my ability to bitch. If there were Olympics for bitching I'd win Gold. Oh, I wonder of my medal would be as big as Mom's gold cross. We could have a gold off.

Since there was drinking Thursday night after a karate class where I left battered and bruised, I moved my Friday run to Saturday. On a side note, how much do I suck that two beers is now considered drinking? Sigh. So anyway, my body needed a break and as I'm learning on the running forums, muscles need recovery days. I like recovery days because you don't do anything. Another side note, the Captain's liver needs a recovery day. So anyway, because I've run the same route at night for five weeks, a daylight run along a new path sounded great.

Based on my previous two long runs, I can jog for 26 minutes non-stop, which translates into 2 miles. Today's schedule run is for 25 minutes and it shouldn't be a problem. Hell at this point in my training, one mile or 12 minutes should be automatic. Notice my use of the words should & be.

Seven minutes into my run I had to take a walk break. After two minutes of walking I resume running again. The Saturday daylight route passes by Lutey's house. I'm glad she wasn't out to see me walk past her house after yet another walk break. She would have pointed and mocked me. The rest of my run, if you call it that, was a bust. I had to alternate walking and jogging the rest of the route.

I've blown two runs on two consecutive Saturdays. I'm not sure if I'm pushing myself to hard on the new course or if I didn't hydrate enough. Maybe it's a little of both.

I like to damn my body for not getting thirsty. Perhaps it's my camel DNA but I just don't get thirsty. AND why aren't the two cups of coffee with breakfast enough to propel me for 30 minutes? I even had cream, in both cups. That counts for something? Right? Mmmm...coffee. Oh, how about a coffee flavored sports drink? Insane or genius? I guess it depends who you talk to.

My plan is to get a coffee IV before the race on Saturday. I might not run all 3 miles but at least I'll have a caffeine high to enjoy.

ramblings by Whitey on 3:39 PM
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