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- I Run, Therefore I Am STILL Nuts!
Whether you are just getting acquainted with the joys of running or you can recite the brand and model number of your last 12 pairs of running shoes, you’ll identify with this book as runners did with the popular first volume, I Run, Therefore I Am—Nuts!
Best-selling running humorist Bob Schwartz—the Dave Barry of running—is back and will once again have you laughing as he captures the humor, craziness, and obsessions of runners—new and old—with this new collection of 43 hilarious stories.
I Run, Therefore I Am— STILL Nuts! brings out the humor in situations that every runner can relate to:
• Suffering from RWIA, otherwise known as running watch information addiction
• The addictive nature of high-intensity interval training
• The depths of despair upon learning your favorite shoe will be discontinued
• Embracing the saving grace of age-graded race time calculators
• Attempting to run with a reluctant canine companion
• Trying out running in the oxymoron of barefoot shoes
If you know that the iliotibial band is not an alternative rock group, wear bruised toenails like badges of honor, and know the feeling of having an elephant resting on your shoulders as you’ve hit the wall—this book is for you!
Part I It’s All in the Approach to Make Your Runs Beyond Reproach
If it works, then don’t nix it
Chapter Much Ado About Something
Style points can equal mile points
Chapter Watch, What You Say To Me!
Flattering words are now coming from the strangest of places
Chapter We Could All Use a Little More Common Dense
In the words of Fleetwood Mac, sometimes it’s best to go your own way
Chapter HIIT Me With My Best Shot
Better fitness through sheer masochism
Part II Who’s Running With Me?
There’s alone in a crowd and there’s company while going solo
Chapter Solitary Refinement
So long, solo long!
Chapter Look At Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Chapter Forecast: Partly Cloudy, Good Chance of Pain
If you can follow Sparky Anderson’s words of wisdom, you’re on the way to nirvana
Chapter Every Dog Has Its Way
You can lead a dog to the trail, but you can’t always make him a canine convert
Part III Lacing ’Em Up and Laying ’Em Down
There are wins and losses in racing, and a heck of a lot in between
Chapter What Are the Odds That Older and Slower Equals Better?
Using your shortcomings to your success in the long run
Chapter Count Me in on Counting Me Out
Other challenges to pencil in after 100-mile races are erased from your to-do list
Chapter Refraining From Explaining
A poor race performance may not seem just, but it needs no justification
Chapter Log Me In
Do elite runners put on their shorts one leg at a time?
Part IV The Road to Injury Is Paved With Foolish Intentions
Injuries come and injuries go, but stubbornness often remains
Chapter Runner, Heal Thyself!
The path of self-diagnosis begins with a not very bright guinea pig for a patient
Chapter The Impact Of Nonimpact
Can true love be found with a sweat-inducing, cardiac-demanding, quadriceps-exhausting piece of machinery?
Chapter Behind Every Comeback Is a Foolhardy Failure
Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, runner rehabilitation is in order
Chapter Malady Malfeasance
There are more than two certainties in life
Part V From the Back of the Pack to the Fleet-Footed Elite, Runners Are Not Run of the Mill
What some call quirks we choose to call talents
Chapter If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
Locate another pair of your favorite shoe model that’s been discontinued and it’s sweet souls almighty
Chapter Running Is Elementary, My Dear
Simplicity is the father of ascension
Chapter Do What They Say and Watch the Day Zip Away
Operating by the book makes for a long read
Chapter Gesticulate in Kind
To acknowledge or not to acknowledge, that is the question
Part VI The Nonthinking Person’s Guide to the Path of Least Resistance
In the words of the esteemed Yoda, do or do not; there is no try.
Chapter Do What You Want to Do
Whatever starts your engine and puts a bounce in your step
Chapter Giving Yourself the Benefit of No Doubt
Sometimes it’s best to just stop thinking
Chapter More Than a Feeling
Take to the sky on a natural high
Chapter The Time Is Now
The times may be changing, but our infatuation with time is constant
Part VII The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Nonrunning Runner
Weak in the knees while knee deep in anatomy
Chapter Woe Is Knee!
Lacking the ability to run a step is the first step to admitting you have a wee bit of a problem
Chapter The Arms Have It
How to survive when those horrific words are spoken to you: “You’ll have to be non-weight bearing on your leg for a while.”
Chapter Scope Me Out
It’s better to sometimes recognize your limitations than end up prone on the ground
Part VIII Jack of No Trades, Master of Run
Learning while on the run is all part of the fun
Chapter Lessons Learned, Lessons Spurned
The sundry and wacky words of wisdom absorbed from years on the run
Chapter Who Can Leap Standing Water in a Single Bound?
The many peculiar talents of Resourceful Running Man and Running Woman
Chapter Phoning It In
Taking the talk test to a whole new level of communication
Chapter Fashionable Fartleks
Wick me away!
Part IX Enjoying the View on the Competitive Drive
Keeping perspective is a good thing, though an elusive thing
Chapter To Thine Own Self Be You
There is more than one path to the top of the mountain; the key is uncovering your itinerary
Chapter Climb Every Mountain, or at Least a Small Mound Now and Then
Sometimes you got to go with the flow and redefine your definition of slow
Chapter Just Lose, Baby!
There is joy in Mudville
Chapter Faster-Finishing Counterparts
Setting the pace for the race within a race
Part X The Legs Have It! Don’t Be De-Feeted
Figuring out what will keep you on the streets
Chapter May the Stick Be With You!
The magic wand will woo you in the land of self-massage
Chapter Not Fully Baring My Sole
Less is more in more ways than one
Chapter The Rhythm of the Run
As Martha and the Vandellas sang, there will be dancing in the street
Chapter Getting the Bends for Bending
Can a runner with the flexibility of concrete and a limited attention span survive in the world of yoga?
Part XI Behind Every Nuts Runner Are Often Very Accepting Nonrunners
The family of a runner knows the difference between RICE and DOMS
Chapter For Better or for Worse
A union of soles and souls
Chapter Over Hill, Over Dale, and I’m Pale
I wonder if there’s an extra entry fee for the mud bath
Chapter Have Shoes, Will Travel
Can a runner and a nonrunner find and maintain marital bliss on the open road of race-destination vacations?
Bob Schwartz is the author of five books, including the highly successful and hilarious I Run, There I Am—NUTS!, and a freelance writer whose popular articles have been published in over 200 magazines. His humorous essays on running have appeared in more than 40 national and international running magazines and regional magazines, including Runner's World and Running Fitness.
Bob’s books have been finalists in the humor category of the USA Book News Awards, the ForeWord Book Awards, the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards, and the Independent Publisher Book Awards. Bob has also won the Gold Award from the Parenting Publications of America for his humorous essays on family life. Bob has presented humorous talks at races throughout the United States.
Bob lives in Huntington Woods, Michigan, with his wife, Robin, and three children. He graduated from the University of Colorado and received his law degree from the University of Oregon. In addition to his writing, he is the CEO of the Here to Help Foundation (www.heretohelpfoundation.org), which he operates with his wife.
Bob raised over $50,000 through an ultramarathon benefiting the Institute of Craniofacial Surgery and Reconstructive Surgery and received the Dove Award from The Arc for implementing a basketball program for people with physical and mental disabilities. Bob also received the Avadenka Award from the State Bar of Michigan for his community service. He founded the Cheetahs Running Club in the Berkley School District of Michigan, for which he was awarded a grant from the Saucony Run for Good Foundation.
In the universal language of runners, Bob has PRs of 2:42:13 for the marathon, 34:18 for the 10K, 1:16:08 for the half marathon, and 58 seconds for the third-grade potato sack race. You can reach Bob at bob@runninglaughs.com and enjoy his website and follow his blog at www.runninglaughsblog.com. Also, catch Bob on Facebook at www.facebook.com/runninglaughs and on Twitter at @RunningLaughs for daily humor and running news.
“In his quest to be a better runner, Bob Schwartz has captured the true mindset of the distance runner. In I Run, Therefore I Am—STILL Nuts! Schwartz articulates this with humor.”
Jean Knaack-- Executive Director, Road Runners Club of America
"A great many runners take their running extremely seriously. Bob Schwartz does, too, but in a seriously funny way."
Rich Benyo-- Editor, Marathon & Beyond
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than 
pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
Look at Me Now
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
Is it conceit to tweet your feats?
We've all heard that old philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” I won't even try to answer this given the necessity of thereby addressing issues of unperceived existence, the unobserved world, and reality. My reality is that's all well beyond my capabilities for philosophical analysis. I don't go much deeper than pondering what if there were no hypothetical questions? Or what was the greatest thing before sliced bread?
On first hearing the forest question, I didn't get much past the mystery of how'd the entire tree actually fall over by itself. However, if one were to analogize this query to the sport of running, the question might be “If a runner sets a personal running record in the forest and no one else is there, did it really happen?” In our present era of ubiquitous social media, the answer is undeniably “Of course, you Twitterhead. Everyone would know within eight seconds!”
That's because today's runner is adept, as well as interested, in letting everyone know about his or her wonderful running accomplishments. Social media has not only provided terrific new verbs, including tweeting, blogging, texting, and podcasting, but it's also given runners the ability to quickly disseminate their results and race photos. I may be one of the remaining 14 people in North America without a personal Facebook page, but I do recognize the benefits of certain elements of social media. However, I'm not the type who is compelled to let people know I finally cooked a soufflé without it sinking, let alone communicate my great training run or race result. If I were that runner in the woods, no one would know of the stellar running performance unless I advised a relatively uninterested chipmunk on the way back to my car.
Perhaps this all stems from my first marathon, which occurred when I was 17 years old. That race was much different from today's mega races. It had fewer than 100 runners, about eight spectators (if you include the two stupefied park maintenance staff wondering what in the name of insanity we were doing), a couple of meager aid stations, and no finisher medals or the other amenities so common today. The only people aware of my performance were the ones within earshot of the bellowing guy with the megaphone who announced the names and times of runners as they crossed the finish line. This was well before today's ability to track runners by their race chip and have not only finishing times automatically sent via cell phone texts but also various split times along the racecourse. Perhaps someday they'll have tracking ability so that someone following my progress might receive a more descriptive text saying, “Bottomed out at 21.3 miles. Going to be a death march from here on out. Have pity on him. It's not pretty.”
Certainly I shared the result of my first marathon with my immediate family and a few close friends, but I didn't feel compelled to broadcast it beyond that point because the achievement was personal and internally savored. To me, some things happen on a need-to-know basis and not everyone needs to know. I'm the type of person who is as disinclined to put a bumper sticker on my car stating something to the effect that My 3rd Grader Can Do Long Division as I am in putting on a Boston Marathon sticker. (Of course, if I did put the former on, I'm sure I'd be upstaged by someone with a sticker saying My 3rd Grader Built the Calculator to Allow Your 3rd Grader to Do Long Division.)
I'd actually be more inclined to stick a poor result on my car and maybe get some words of encouragement or sound advice.
If the Shoe Fits, Snare It!
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet.
Losing, then rediscovering, your favorite kicks
I could barely believe my eyes as I happened to see the tall figure doing prerace strides across the field. As I kept an eye on his whereabouts, I immediately broke into an all-out sprint over the 200 yards back to my car to grab my wallet. I then dashed back toward him as fast as mylegs would carry me.
Without caring in the slightest that I was interrupting his prerace routine, I waved the wad of cash in my hand and blurted out, “How much for your shoes?”
He just looked at me like I had two heads. I was tense and desperate and shouted, “Seriously man, how much for your shoes?”
He finally said, “What are you talking about?”
I replied with a quaking voice, “I need those shoes, man. I need 'em bad. I'm down to my last pair and then that's it. Nada. Gone forever. I can't take it. I got to have them!”
I pointed down to my dilapidated shoes with the frayed mesh along the top, toes sticking through, worn-out heels, and much duct tape holding various shoe components in place. I pleaded with him, “Look at these! You got to help me, man!”
“Whoa, buddy. Relax. Aren't you even curious what size mine are? What size do you wear?” he asked.
“10 and a half,” I replied.
“These are 12 and a half.”
“Close enough! I'll wear extra socks. Will you take a credit card?” I screamed.
He waved me away, and I jumped in front of him as he tried to resume his prerace routine. He stared at me with pity in his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You got to get a grip, buddy.”
I didn't need a grip; I needed his Nike Air Zoom Skylons! I longingly stared at his shoes as he jogged off. I imagine he had, figuratively, been in my shoes before. I wanted to at that moment, literally, be in his shoes. If you're a runner long enough, eventually you'll feel the sudden shock of having your perfect running shoe discontinued. Without warning. Extinct. I remember previous running partners experiencing the same frustration when the Saucony Freedom Trainer went down or the Adidas Osweego, the Brooks Radius, the Asics DS Trainer VI, and other shoes meeting their ultimate demise.
I hadn't yet met my perfect shoe until the Skylon came along. I'm not simply referring to a running shoe that fits pretty comfortably. I mean that once-in-a-lifetime, Cinderella glass slipper-like pair that feels as though it's been designed and built just for your foot. The shoe with unreal comfort that produces nary an injury let alone a blister, heel slippage, or even a hint of plantar fasciitis!
When the first version of the Skylon came on the market, it was love at first sight. I put the shoes on, and it was though soft music began playing in the background while rose petals fell from the sky. I took them for a short spin outside, and as I danced down the driveway of the running store, I envisioned long runs together for Skylon and me and years of happiness together. Before indicating to the salesman that I'd take them, I almost felt compelled to say, “I take you to be true in good runs and bad and will love this shoe from this run forward until shoe extinction do us part.”
The runner's quotient exam—Are you a runner?
Runners come in various types, and that’s no truer than nowadays.
What Color Is Your Singlet?
Do you know your lactate from your pronate? Your swing gait from your heart rate?
Cool down by taking the runner's quotient exam.
I have never been a fan of those lists that begin with “You know you're a [fill in the blank] if you . . .” The lists were getting a bit too specific with titles such as “You know you're a conservative-leaning Northeasterner who loves food reality shows, indie folk music, baba ghanoush, and Scrabble if you . . .”
Plenty of lists address “You know you're a runner if you . . .” I try to cast a larger net and include everyone from the competitive female 50K runner to the 5K guy in cotton socks and a cutoff sweatshirt within my definition of runner. I figure if you golf, you're a golfer, if you shoot skeet, you're a skeet shooter, and if you run, you're a runner. But if you're a golfing, skeet-shooting runner, well then I'm not sure what you are.
Runners come in various types, and that's no truer than nowadays. I admit to being one of those old-school runners who didn't initially welcome the more recent running boom. The first running boom in the 1970s (which I admit to being a part of) brought runners forth from the darkness and included large doses of obsessive and eccentric behavior along with a competitively hard-core approach to running. Fitness was a byproduct and not a focus. We were viewed as being on the fringe, if not a tad unhinged.
R.Q. Test
Scoring:
One point for A
Two points for B
Three points for C
Four points for D (and no need to Google until the quiz has been completed)
No points if none of the answers applies to you.
Extra-point questions are worth a single point.
Choose the answer that best applies to you:
- When you meet someone for the first time who appears to be a runner, you:
- Don't ever think about who might be a runner because you're a runner who doesn't appear to be a runner
- Look to see whether he or she is wearing running shoes
- And then look to see whether the person is wearing a running watch
- And then hope he or she first asks you whether you're a runner
- You've been to a track:
- Because you were there to watch a high school football game or the band
- To run laps so you know how far you went
- To do a workout, but your speed work is predominately done on the roads and trails
- Weekly during racing season, and you often do at least 10 Yasso 800s1
- When a running injury may have emerged during a run, you:
- Schedule a doctor's appointment within one hour after the run
- Decide to take a week off and see how it responds to rest
- Elect to rest from running but first determine which cross-training option will not aggravate the pain
- Ignore the pain and load up on ibuprofen and run, limp, or crawl through the injury for at least three months before ultimately seeing a doctor
- Extra point: Continue “running” to near the date of the doctor's appointment and cancel at least once before finally going.
- When a running magazine arrives with its seasonal review of new shoes, you:
- Put it aside to peruse at your leisure
- Thumb through it to see the latest shoe colors and designs
- Experience a faster heart rate and sweating palms, and you immediately read it in its entirety
- Don't bother reading it because you've already researched upcoming shoes in depth online, printed out the information, and have calendared the release dates of two or more models
- Zero points: You don't subscribe to a running magazine
- In your house you have:
- A framed picture of yourself during or after a race
- At least one training book
- And at least one unopened box of your favorite running shoes
- And at least one running-related poster on the wall and a location for old race numbers with your race time written on the back of each number
- When traveling by airplane, you:
- Take no extra precautions with your running shoes and clothing
- Make sure you don't pack your running shoes within checked luggage
- And you also don't pack your running clothing within checked luggage
- And you also take on board at least two running magazines or a running book to read on the plane and a tennis ball or pillow to sit on should your piriformis act up
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