Racing Nuptuals

Spring has finally arrived. Well, sorta. In theory, spring is supposed to bring thawing temperatures, birds, flowers, and a rebirth of annoying insects. All of that seems to be postponed this year. The only thing that you can actually depend on anymore is the start of race season!

The first weekend in April is my traditional "fine I'll do a race" kickoff. Since multisport temperatures are still waiting in the distant future, racing is limited to monosport activities such as running. On Saturday morning, I lined up for the Spring Forward 15k Run, brought to you by Fleet Feet and Yellow Jacket Racing. This race would normally happen on a Sunday, but apparently there's some sort of Pagan/ Christian holiday on Sunday this year forcing the RD to change from the norm.

Pre-Marital Bliss
Race time was 8:30 am. Note to future triathlon organizers: Take lessons from a well organized running race; you don't need to start at 7:00 in order to have a good event. You are allowed to start a little later, allow your athletes to get another hour of sleep on the weekend, and still have a good turnout. Rumor has it that more than 800 runners were scheduled to attack the distance. Some self-identified 'slow' runners were allowed to start early, at 7:45.

As this was my first race of the year, my body seems to have forgotten how to relax and enjoy the moment. I suffered from the ever-present desire to not eat. I tried to force some food down my gullet but that is never a winning battle. I tried to drink some calories and had a slight success. I did drink some water, which went down smoothly.

I arrived on race campus, which was located at the beautiful Mendon Ponds Park, at 8:10. I had 20 minutes to warm up, which I took advantage of to its fullest. For the Banter, warming up for a running race goes as follows.

• Sit in car
• Turn on heat
• Make sure the heat is directed towards legs
• Recline
• Work up a nice sweat in the supine position
• With t-minus 6 minutes on the clock, head over to the starting line
• Hit the Men's room (pictured)

I knew exactly zero people in the race this year, which was about how many I was expecting. That fact gave me a chance mingle and meet new people. Race temperature was 33º. I saw a vast display of race garments represented in the group. It was hot stuff. There were running shorts that end 1 inch below the hips, running tights, booty shorts, Lululemon yoga pants, and various forms of lycra. Now, let me describe what the ladies were wearing...

So instead of using the extra 4 minutes I had left to chat, I stood like a clown ogling and drooling like a peepshow freak rubbing my gloved hands together trying to stay warm. Somewhere in this crowd, not far from me, was my new bride-to-be. I did not get to cuddle ahead of time.

At T-2 minutes, a man started making announcements on some sort of loudspeaker/ noise-making contraption. Most of the sounds emanating from this device were reminiscent of Charlie Brown's teacher. Abruptly, the crackle stopped and was replaced with a drawn-out "Gooooooooooooooooo!" We got the idea that we weren't welcomed here anymore and started running.

Delusions of Grandeur
I've done this race before. Several times, in fact. The first time was in 2010, and then again in 2011, and finally in 2012. Each and every year that I've raced here, I've gotten better. Last year, I ran just under a 1:07 holding an average of a 7:07 per mile pace.

I had no reason to believe that I wouldn't run that 'fast' this year. My training recently has been going quite well. Why- just on this recent Tuesday- I did an 8.3 miler with half mile repeats holding a 6:50 pace or better on each. Sure, I was a little sore from that effort but I felt that I could run through that. Plus, I've upped my cycling and swimming these past couple of weeks. Granted, I haven't done any actual hill work this season. But is hill work really that necessary, especially when given this hill profile?

So, I went into the race with the hope of going sub 1:06 and a plan of running 7 min miles. When I came across the first mile marker, my watch beeped in at 6:58.

The Courtship
After about a mile or so, the initial crowd starts to thin. Pace lines form and we are really nothing more than a pack of 2-legged lemmings. It was right around the 1.5 mile mark that my legs started to protest. I looked at my watch and saw why. My pace had increased to a 6:40. I still had 8 miles left to run and I was doubtful that I would be able to do this on my own. I needed support.

That's when I saw her. She was the 5'6 beauty wearing regular running shorts and a purple top. Her brunette colored ponytail swayed back and forth like a happy puppy chasing a ball. She was wisely wearing sunglasses. I held my distance for a short bit and marveled. She was running at the pace I wanted to hold.

I settled in next to her and did what every man should do when entering into a long-term relationship: I apologized. I have my watch set to beep every 0.25 miles. I find it comforting and a great aid while training. It forces me to check my pace and ensure that I'm not being overzealous or too pansy when working out. I know that it can be annoying to others but I simply didn't have the energy or focus to meander through the watch menus to turn it off. My fiance was tolerant of this incessant beeping and she told me so. Compromise is vital. We ran on.

The Wedding
The ceremony was short and sweet. It lasted about 35 seconds and it was clear that we were a perfect match for each other. Normally, I am uphill challenged but have a downhill skill. This means that I plod up while everyone else floats over the top. Then, I come screaming back down on the other side. Up until our hitching, I was pretty much the only one who practiced this technique. My new bride matched me step for step on both sides of the hill.

After the first big monster, we were officially bonded. Up and down we went attached at the running hip. We were on our honeymoon and refused to be separated. After the second big hill, I whispered sweet nothings in here ear such as, "Good hill." She lovingly responded, "<cough> Thanks."

My running bride kept the pace hot. We held a 6:48 for the third mile and I was about 20 seconds ahead of schedule if I wanted a sub-7 pace and 40 seconds ahead of schedule if I wanted a PR. My quads were on fire.

We settled back into a 7:00 mile pace but my stomach was starting to turn. There was a low rumbling sound that was audible over the pitter patter of a young couple running side by side. I'm confident my running wife heard it. This was probably her first sign that things weren't as hunky dory in our relationship. She surged up the next hill encouraged me to follow. I did my best. I was able to catch her again on the downhill but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.

The Divorce
I'm not sure who saw the warning signs first: me or her. I was becoming more labored. My breathing had intensified. My gaze had glossed over. Spittle was present on my chin. I was nothing more than the shell of a runner she once knew and loved. She did her best in the latter stages of our relationship. Over the next hill, she actually yelled "Come on."

I swear to you, I tried. I wanted to make it work. It was clear that we were drifting apart. First it was just a couple of steps. Then it was a couple of yards. She never looked back. I was wallowing in my own misery after our trial separation. She forged on ahead with her own life leaving me to figure out how to put myself back together. I decided that I needed to slow things down a bit. Way down. I walked for about 30 seconds to catch my breath. Then I started running again.

I saw her every once in a while. I would catch glimpses of her in the distance. She motored on while I was left behind with nothing but my aching legs, my lurching stomach, and my overt loneliness. I missed my PR by about 3 minutes and was able to finish with a 7:24 pace.

We met up later on for drinks. Just drinks, served in those tiny paper dixie cups. She was enjoying a snack and hanging out with her girlfriends. That's what women do after a relationship ends. I swallowed my anger at what could have been (meaning my lost PR). We exchanged pleasantries. She introduced me to her friends and told me a little bit about her up-and-coming plans (she's running Boston in a couple of weeks).

It seems like this is becoming a theme to me. My issue: bad pacing and over-zealousness in running. I recognize that I trained through this race but I absolutely hate it when I don't improve from the previous year. I've got some hill work to do. Some endurance work to do. One thing is very clear: I need to get counseling.

Crazy Find at the Store

I'm not sure about your area (I don't get around much) but not too far from my house is a store. It's got all sorts of crazy things. It's seriously wacky what this place sells. I'm not interested in listing them all as that would make for an incredibly long, boring post (Aside: Not that I'm opposed to long, boring posts as evidenced by most of this blog. It's just that I try to write original work. Copying someone else's list lacks in creativity. Not that I have any of that either. End Aside.) The store has, just to name a few index items: lipstick, shampoo, ice cream, chicken ova, chocolate, floor cleaning products, dead animals in various forms of mutilation, different kinds of poisons, feminine hygiene products, and an entire section dedicated to sugar meant to be eaten in the morning.

Over on the right side of the building (that would be the south side, since the front faces west), they take a bunch of food and just dump it on shelves. I have been witness to this phenomenon for several years now and am still trying to figure it out. They wheel the food from the back. It comes in boxes. Most of this food is not in any sort of packaging. Some employee, usually a teenager, puts the food directly on a different wooden box. Why they even bothered doing that work when they could have just set the original box on the shelf is beyond me.

It's sort of like walking into a thrift shop looking for bargain slacks. You never actually know what you are going to get in this section of the store and you really have to hunt for your items. (Unsurprisingly, the thrift shops around here have horrible supplies of triathlon-related apparel.) Up until recently, I haven't actually ventured into the section due to the seedy characters fluttering about. These people touch each and every item many times. They smell it or squeeze it. They can turn it over and look at it's back side. There is no expectation for them to wash their hands before or after handling these items (and you can probably assume that the teenager that placed the items didn't wash his either).

The food varies in size, shape and colors. Some of the items are smaller than the width of my pinky finger. Others are larger than my head (just for the record, I have a pretty small head). Some are round. Others are flat. Some are representatives of the entire plant. Others are only specific parts. I have been on the lookout for a perfectly square piece of food in this area but have failed miserably to find it.

There is one main commonality though- most of it came directly from plants. (Aside 2: I say most because people often confuse the fungi kingdom and the plant kingdom. Many people still think that there are 2 different kinds of organisms- plants and animals- despite the fact that there are actually 6 with animals being the least important in the grand scheme of things. End Aside 2.) The sellers just went out to the yard, cut a tree or part of one, and brought it in for us to buy. Some they pulled out of the ground and still have the dirt attached.

Here's the thing: you can eat that inexpensive, unplastic-laden food completely raw. No cooking necessary. No fancy recipes. I saw some of this exact same food at a restaurant last week. They combined several different items together and called it some wacky name. If I recall correctly, it was a 'salad'. And, for some reason, they charged $12 for a combination of food that would cost less than $5 and feed me several times over.

One of the major problems with food in this section is the lack of nutrition labels. None of the unpackaged food advertises its ingredients list, calorie count, or the all important number of grams of fat. In a nutshell, you really have no idea what you are getting. Machines haven't ripped the food apart and put it back together with other additives. How are we expected to put something in our system that hasn't been pre-digested? I don't think our bodies are ready for that.

Rumor has it that this food is actually quite nutritious. You might have to send it to an independent lab for analysis or simply look it up if you are curious (I've never been brave enough to check).

Anyway, about a month ago I finally developed the courage to actually purchase some of this food. It was insultingly cheap compared to the items found in the rest of the building. It felt like I was ripping them off and the girl at the checkout counter was not allowed to accept tips. (Aside 3: Either that or she was just creeped out by an ogre like me trying to offer her a couple of bucks. I've never been good with the ladies even while dangling cash. I'm not sure, but I might not be allowed back in that particular store until she leaves her position. End Aside 3.)

Yes, I paint my toes

To be honest, this food was actually quite tasty. I've been eating a lot of it lately. Further, I noticed an unexpected consequence: I've been losing weight. My scale (not that I believe anything it says) reports that I'm down 3 pounds in the past 3 weeks. I'm willing to accept that there might be some sort of coincidence here. I'm not one to apply causality to a correlation. But it does seem a little suspicious that my weight loss numbers were significantly better after I started eating more of this uncared for, dead, decaying organic matter just tossed out for anyone to take.

Anyway, I just thought I would share. It seems that many people don't know or under-use this section of the store. I admit that I was skeptical at first. Not only has my waistline gone down but my energy is up and so is my free cash, which I can now waste on non-thrift shop triathlon apparel.

How do you March Madness?

If you're anything like me, you're a disappointment to mankind bit of an overachiever and an expert multitasker. This means that you can do your job effectively, browse the internet on your regular computer, search Facebook on your phone, and have a conversation with 7 of your colleagues, all while composing an email to your boss.

All of that may be correct, until recently. Because this is March. And with March comes lousy weather (unless you live in, well, almost anywhere in the US for the early part of 2013, then it's business as usual). March also brings you a bunch of college kids who are skipping school for the chance to play in a basketball tournament. According to conservative estimates, there are approximately 8.4 million work hours wasted costing roughly $134 million. Most of that by me.

I'm not really sure why this happens. Most people don't watch much college hoops (compared to the popularity of the tourney). Maybe it's the action. This may be true as many of those kids have wicked good moves and can soar through the air with ease, as seen in this dunking photo (which may or may not have been from game action). Maybe it's the intensity. Or the win or go home drama. Or people watch to see the Cinderella story put a beat down on the Goliath of college hoops.

There's also a hypothesis that people watch for the commentary. The halftime game analyses are amongst the best, most articulate pieces of video journalism. Notice how the scribes capture the moment perfectly:

There are rumors out there that some people just aren't in to the whole March Madness thing. I find this to be a crock. My reasoning, there are other forms of March Madness that have absolutely nothing to do with basketball. There are lots of different ways to hold your attention without hoops, too many to list. Such as food.

Or drink:

Or you can get excited about your favorite inspirational historical figures (I wonder if Barkley was on the bracket?):

But, like I said, you might be a little like me (sorry if that's in anyway true). This bracket might actually appeal to you.

It seems that Lucas is still out of touch with the real world. Apparently, he doesn't know how to divide the bracket up into regions and seed the top characters. Still, I expect you to go online and vote. 

Yellow Marks on My Record

I admit that I'm not a big fan of the color yellow.  I just don't appreciate it. There's just not a lot of good coming from the color yellow. Examples of yellow's evil:

• It exposes people with bad oral hygiene, as seen on their teeth
• As the main color of the sun, it burns my skin with minimal exposure
• Should your skin become that color, called jaundice, it is a sign of illness
• It completely clashes with my complexion (see most of the above) rendering it useless in my wardrobe
• It can single-handedly destroy the Green Lantern

(Aside: The Wife once painted a room in canary. It was a sure fire way to keep me out of that room and yet more evidence of her genius. End Aside)

A Brief Understanding of Yellow
Situated dead smack in the middle of ROYGBV spectrum, yellow refused to take sides in the Color Wars. (Note: many people insert an 'I' for the color 'indigo', which is not a true color of the spectrum but rather an advertising gimmick for an 80's cult band who refuses to stop playing.)

The Color Wars were aggressive in the early days. Infrared and ultraviolet were assembling armies in their own Axis/ Allied-esque. Rumor has it that they weren't trying to hurt anyone, they just wanted to make themselves useful to mankind. We're still not sure why they wanted this. Historians are forever arguing about the motivations of this war since there were no women, money, land, or religion involved.

The Dark Side of the line amassed powerhouses like gamma rays, x-rays and UV light and were making their case. On their list of successes was the ability to kill germs, see right through skin, and provide super-human strength to mere mortals. That last claim was ultimately refuted as the test subject also demonstrated an increase in rage, decrease in intellectual capacity, and a change in skin tone. (Which, originally, the Colors were proud of as Green was a founding member of the team.)

The Light Side of the equation assembled the likes of radio waves, microwaves, and infrared who were defending their dissertation. They provided the ability to see at night, ways to cook food poorly but quickly, and send picture and sound streaming to various sized boxes. (This last one might have tipped the scales in their favor if it wasn't for the fact that it made people so lazy that they stopped caring about the outcome of the War.)

Yellow played the part of double agent. It's wavelength and frequency characteristics made it difficult for the other colors to eliminate it from the group. While the other Colors shot themselves at each other resulting in various forms of interference, yellow chose to rely on trickery and deceit to keep the war going. Eventually, yellow became known as the Loki of the Color Wars. Some colors, like mauve and chartreuse, died. (Humans tried to resurrect these colors later in life. But, like most extinct species, we fail to get them right and most people don't even understand those attempts at colors.)

Once the war was over, both sides tried to figure out what to do with the mischievous color. Everyone agreed that the color had some usefulness as a primary, but no one trusted it. Since they couldn't trust Yellow, they put it right in the middle of the spectrum where both groups could keep an eye on it. As a consequence, they decided that Yellow would henceforth be indicative of a warning. As danger.

Yellow as Danger
Since the war has ended, everyone has learned to be cautious around yellow. Take race car events: a yellow flag is called 'caution' and the race, for all intents and purposes, stops. Once the yellow is removed, the race continues. Green, on the other hand, means that all is well. (It was a proud moment for the team when that decision was made.)

Some up and coming sports, like soccer, use a yellow card punitively. Should a soccerer violate the rules, an official flashes a yellow card. The purpose is clear: Knock off your shenanigans. A second yellow card means removal from the game (commonly, the second yellow magically morphs into a red card, thus providing more fuel for the Dark side as victors.)

Even a real sport, like triathlon, uses the yellow card to impose penalties on athletes. Should some bloke come by on a motorcycle and wave a yellow card in your face, you can bet that you will have a time consequence or be required to serve a detention.

Stoplights use yellow as a warning that something even worse is about to happen. Green, a good color, allows for free travel. Red effectively halts forward traffic. Upon seeing yellow, most people are confused as to what action they should take. Some slam on their brakes. Others hit the accelerator. Yellow just watches and laughs at the idiocy.

Other Consequences of Yellow
It turns out that computer people are also aware of the Color Wars and the powerful meanings of the different hues. They don't have a firm grasp on who won the war so they arbitrarily assign colors for different meanings. Except for the blue screen of death (that all PC users will inevitably experience- score one for the light side), computers will always use yellow as a warning.

Here's an example:

Looking at the yellow blotches on my training log, it can only mean one thing: Danger. That, or I started swimming again. As a triathlete and a former swimmer, this should come as no surprise. As a pansy who hasn't been in the water for about half a year, I'm sore from the experience. Yellow strikes again.