I talked to Jim Wharton in New York yesterday. Sometimes when I ask and he has time, he walks onto the sidewalk outside the clinic and holds his phone up so that I can listen to the sounds of the city. But yesterday when the man risked life-threatening frostbite to indulge me, there were no traffic noises, no sideswiped conversations, no dogs barking. New York City had taken the day off under the silent cover of snow. Jim said it was beautiful. It even sounded beautiful.
So this morning when I ran, I thought warm and guilty Floridian thoughts … and sent them to New York, exchanging them for the muffled chill of the Upper West Side.
I often think of New York as I run here in Gainesville. I know that at the exact same second I roll out of my door, the runners of New York are rolling out of theirs. Together, we shake sleep off our shoulders and take on the morning. As my foot hits the pavement, it’s in perfect lockstep with thousands of footsteps in New York.
Together, we are training for the ING New York City Marathon.
This is communion.
Of course, all runners (even those in my mind) are faster than I am and leave me behind, so communion is replaced quickly by abandonment issues, self-loathing, and ever-present disappointment at not being Kenyan. But for a few sweet moments, I am a thousand miles away and part of a world much larger than my own. I am in Central Park, running in the snow.
Bev
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A gift from Jim Wharton!
Jim Wharton has an uncanny intuition for knowing when things aren’t going well in Bev’s life. Perhaps a thousand years of friendship have spun a tensile psychic thread between my soul and his. Perhaps in his quietude, he’s attuned to darkening corners of the universe. Or maybe he inferred some meaning from the running shoe I hacked up with a butcher knife and mailed to his clinic with a half-eaten Snickers bar.
Astonishingly, without my having to say a word, he just somehow … knew.
And being Jim Wharton, he rushed to the rescue of a despondent runner whose training refuses to come together. Look what the man sent me! If ever there was the perfect gift at the perfect time, this DVD is IT.
Run for Your Life is Fred Lebow’s story. The back cover reads:
The story of how one immigrant's determination and sweat created the most significant running event in the world. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE touches the heart and soul of anyone who has a passion for running, and documents the inspirational life of Fred Lebow and the history of the New York City Marathon.
To the rest of the world, Fred Lebow is best known as the founder and director of the New York City Marathon. But to me, he was mostly a beloved friend. I miss him. Having this DVD—when I’m trying to return to running and to his marathon specifically—well, it’s like an invitation: “Come home, prodigal runner!” Seeing Fred and all those familiar faces and places reminds me of who I used to be and who I am still when no one is looking. I’ve watched the DVD repeatedly and puddled up every time.
Maybe someday I’ll tell you the story of the unlikely friendship between a back-of-the-pack runner from Florida and the great Fred Lebow himself. But for today, you need to go shopping and get to know the man who changed our lives forever with passion that galvanized into the greatest marathon in the world.
I found three places you can buy this DVD:
www.nyrr.org (New York Road Runners online store under “books” – It would be good to support them with your purchase, but don’t register for the marathon lottery, okay? The odds of my getting in are already abysmal.)
www.amazon.com (new and used)
www.fredlebowmovie.com (where you’ll also see an entertaining array of extra material)
Make popcorn, call your running buddies over, and settle in. You’re going to love this DVD. I promise. And if you see Jim Wharton, thank the man for snapping Bev back to reality.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Runners are good people.
Yesterday I enjoyed the privilege of a phone conversation with a luminary in the world of running. I asked if being recognized creates awkward moments and log jams on starting lines. I could hear a smile in his voice when he said humbly, “No. The community of runners isn’t like that.”
He’s right, of course.
I have always been struck by what a great leveler of people the marathon is. I have stood many times at the starting line of the New York City Marathon on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and distractedly scanned the crowd of runners that surrounds me. I sense no nationality, age, gender, education, profession, bank balance, religion, political affiliation, ideology, language, or worldview. We’re all merely humans clad in runners’ clothes that hide no flaw. On that bridge, we’re as real as we ever get. And even though we each run alone among the thousands, we’re all people on a collective mission to bring our best to unforgiving streets, leave nothing behind, and deliver everything we have at the finish line in Central Park.
When the cannon signals the start of the marathon, something sweet and secret happens in the back of the pack where I run. Instead of a massive surge forward in dog-eat-dog jockeying for position, the field quiets and spreads slightly so that each runner has a little room and no one will tangle up or trip. There is unspoken agreement that this day is going to be long and the marathon is going to be hard and none of us is going to win, so we’re going to take care of each other and make sure we all finish. People smile and wish companion-strangers well before the pace quickens and we gently crest the high point of the bridge. By the time we start down the other side, no one speaks at all anymore, but grace and respect for each other and our mission remain.
I love this about the New York City Marathon. I hadn't thought about it in a long time … until yesterday. There are lessons of the marathon that we carry far beyond the course.
Runners are good people.
He’s right, of course.
I have always been struck by what a great leveler of people the marathon is. I have stood many times at the starting line of the New York City Marathon on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and distractedly scanned the crowd of runners that surrounds me. I sense no nationality, age, gender, education, profession, bank balance, religion, political affiliation, ideology, language, or worldview. We’re all merely humans clad in runners’ clothes that hide no flaw. On that bridge, we’re as real as we ever get. And even though we each run alone among the thousands, we’re all people on a collective mission to bring our best to unforgiving streets, leave nothing behind, and deliver everything we have at the finish line in Central Park.
When the cannon signals the start of the marathon, something sweet and secret happens in the back of the pack where I run. Instead of a massive surge forward in dog-eat-dog jockeying for position, the field quiets and spreads slightly so that each runner has a little room and no one will tangle up or trip. There is unspoken agreement that this day is going to be long and the marathon is going to be hard and none of us is going to win, so we’re going to take care of each other and make sure we all finish. People smile and wish companion-strangers well before the pace quickens and we gently crest the high point of the bridge. By the time we start down the other side, no one speaks at all anymore, but grace and respect for each other and our mission remain.
I love this about the New York City Marathon. I hadn't thought about it in a long time … until yesterday. There are lessons of the marathon that we carry far beyond the course.
Runners are good people.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Bev discusses "itch" and "yuck." Who loves ya, baby?
From my email queue: I got a funny, delicate question this weekend.
When I started blogging, I had lofty plans for creating frequent explorations of deep philosophical and spiritual aspects of running. But two things have become apparent over the past weeks: First, I have a quickening sense of responsibility to my fellow runners who are now checking in with me for practical things. And second, I don’t have deep thoughts every day. So the “delicate question” meets perfect timing.
There is no good way to open a discussion of runners’ body parts described in terms of “itch” and “yuck,” so I’m just going to get to it. Candor wins out over Southern decorum.
The email question: “Hey, Bev. I have recurring jock itch. It’s easily treated and goes away, but it always comes back. I sweat heavily. I can’t help it. Between the faint, funky odor that has seeped into all my running clothes down to my socks and the frequent infections in unmentionable places, running is taking a toll on my social life. Yuck. Any suggestions?”
Yes, my friend. Bev has suggestions.
Runners sweat. Sweat is wet and soaks clothing. When a wet garment is allowed to remain in contact with a warm body part, microbial badness happens. (Yes, this is the correct scientific term.) There are ways to prevent it. Much of it is self-evident. When you’re finished running, take off your sticky, stinky clothes, and take a soapy shower. Dry thoroughly before you dress in your day clothes. Launder your running gear before you wear it again. If you can, use bleach. (Whatever you do, don't let your damp clothes pile up while you try to amass a load of "whites" sufficient to justify a bleaching. This will generate microbial badness on an apocalyptic scale. You'll never be rid of it.) And dry out your running shoes. Many runners have two identical pairs of shoes and rotate them, so one pair is dry while the other is drying.
But here’s the runner’s secret for helping keep bacteria, yeast, fungus, and other assorted “itch” and “yuck” away from the body. After you remove your laundered running clothes from the washer, but before you dry them, seal them in a plastic zip-up bag, and microwave anything without metal, still damp, for three-four minutes. Badness is obliterated. Then take your clothes out of the plastic bag and toss them into the dryer or hang them. You’ll have CLEAN clothes. Funk doesn’t survive nuking. (And yes, you can save the plastic bag and use it repeatedly. Very ecologically responsible. You can “go green” now, but in a good way.)
Okay, then.
I’m gratified that in spite of a brutally frank answer to a delicate question, we have a lofty, quotable moment this morning: “Funk doesn’t survive nuking.” We should all have tee shirts made.
Final thought: I think the Saints finally won their first Super Bowl last night because they trained every day and never gave up or stopped believing they were champions. Run well today, my friend. Dig deep and know.
When I started blogging, I had lofty plans for creating frequent explorations of deep philosophical and spiritual aspects of running. But two things have become apparent over the past weeks: First, I have a quickening sense of responsibility to my fellow runners who are now checking in with me for practical things. And second, I don’t have deep thoughts every day. So the “delicate question” meets perfect timing.
There is no good way to open a discussion of runners’ body parts described in terms of “itch” and “yuck,” so I’m just going to get to it. Candor wins out over Southern decorum.
The email question: “Hey, Bev. I have recurring jock itch. It’s easily treated and goes away, but it always comes back. I sweat heavily. I can’t help it. Between the faint, funky odor that has seeped into all my running clothes down to my socks and the frequent infections in unmentionable places, running is taking a toll on my social life. Yuck. Any suggestions?”
Yes, my friend. Bev has suggestions.
Runners sweat. Sweat is wet and soaks clothing. When a wet garment is allowed to remain in contact with a warm body part, microbial badness happens. (Yes, this is the correct scientific term.) There are ways to prevent it. Much of it is self-evident. When you’re finished running, take off your sticky, stinky clothes, and take a soapy shower. Dry thoroughly before you dress in your day clothes. Launder your running gear before you wear it again. If you can, use bleach. (Whatever you do, don't let your damp clothes pile up while you try to amass a load of "whites" sufficient to justify a bleaching. This will generate microbial badness on an apocalyptic scale. You'll never be rid of it.) And dry out your running shoes. Many runners have two identical pairs of shoes and rotate them, so one pair is dry while the other is drying.
But here’s the runner’s secret for helping keep bacteria, yeast, fungus, and other assorted “itch” and “yuck” away from the body. After you remove your laundered running clothes from the washer, but before you dry them, seal them in a plastic zip-up bag, and microwave anything without metal, still damp, for three-four minutes. Badness is obliterated. Then take your clothes out of the plastic bag and toss them into the dryer or hang them. You’ll have CLEAN clothes. Funk doesn’t survive nuking. (And yes, you can save the plastic bag and use it repeatedly. Very ecologically responsible. You can “go green” now, but in a good way.)
Okay, then.
I’m gratified that in spite of a brutally frank answer to a delicate question, we have a lofty, quotable moment this morning: “Funk doesn’t survive nuking.” We should all have tee shirts made.
Final thought: I think the Saints finally won their first Super Bowl last night because they trained every day and never gave up or stopped believing they were champions. Run well today, my friend. Dig deep and know.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Sunday is the day of rest ... or is it?
It’s Sunday, the day that God gave us to rest. So what does a marathon runner do with it? Run the LONG run. What part of “rest” did we not understand?
The enduring tradition of the Sunday long run has always challenged my logic. For sure, it rips “rest” right out of the day-of-rest equation. Boldly and unapologetically, it makes mincemeat of the day. And on Monday, the toll of the long run launches the week with a tiny net deficit in energy (even though we sleep GREAT on Sunday night). As many years as I have been pondering the insanity of it, I’ve rarely been able to re-order the universe and run the long run on … say, Wednesday night. Of course, at this stage of my piddling training, the term “long run” is sort of a misnomer. It’s more like a short-distance jog with intermittent walks and a full-blown halt once or twice to admire the azaleas in bloom by the path.
But the joy of today’s “long run” is remembering that the New York City Marathon is run on a Sunday. So perhaps I’ve begun imprinting the behavioral pattern into my training that in November, will translate into: “Hey, it’s Sunday! Today is the day we run the New York City Marathon!”
Besides, as all runners do, I know for sure that running restores a person’s soul. Like rest. Only better. It re-calibrates and refreshes parts of your spirit that kicking back only softens.
Run long; run strong. We can kick back later.
The enduring tradition of the Sunday long run has always challenged my logic. For sure, it rips “rest” right out of the day-of-rest equation. Boldly and unapologetically, it makes mincemeat of the day. And on Monday, the toll of the long run launches the week with a tiny net deficit in energy (even though we sleep GREAT on Sunday night). As many years as I have been pondering the insanity of it, I’ve rarely been able to re-order the universe and run the long run on … say, Wednesday night. Of course, at this stage of my piddling training, the term “long run” is sort of a misnomer. It’s more like a short-distance jog with intermittent walks and a full-blown halt once or twice to admire the azaleas in bloom by the path.
But the joy of today’s “long run” is remembering that the New York City Marathon is run on a Sunday. So perhaps I’ve begun imprinting the behavioral pattern into my training that in November, will translate into: “Hey, it’s Sunday! Today is the day we run the New York City Marathon!”
Besides, as all runners do, I know for sure that running restores a person’s soul. Like rest. Only better. It re-calibrates and refreshes parts of your spirit that kicking back only softens.
Run long; run strong. We can kick back later.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Back to the countdown to New York!
I need to straighten out a small confusion. I got emails and calls this week from people who wished me well in Sedona today. And as wonderful as it is to think that I could be in marathon-shape in less than a month of training (for I am noted for an aggressive taper), sadly I’m not running Sedona.
I loaned the blog to Phil Wharton in Arizona this week to use to encourage his Sedona runners. Marathon runners are like this. We're hugely supportive of each other.
Also, if one is in the New York City Marathon lottery system (as I am), one naturally hopes that Sedona runners might be so thrilled with their marathon that they won’t apply for New York. Without an inundation of Arizonans, the odds of a Floridian New York lottery applicant getting in might increase from one chance in a gazillion to one chance in a bazillion. I’m not saying that I’m self-absorbed, but I could see a small, serendipitous, personal benefit to helping Phil make the Sedona experience a successful one.
Besides, if I don’t get into New York in November, I might be running Sedona next February … and I want them to look kindly upon me. “Say, isn’t that Bev, the blogger who sacrificed her postings for an entire week just so Phil Wharton could keep us pumped up last year? I ran a PR because of her. Let her have extra Gatorade!”
But mostly, honestly, and really, I got caught up in the excitement of Sedona and red rocks. Phil and his runners have been going through all the “week before” preparation so familiar to me after sixteen marathons. I loved it. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all well today. As Phil always says, “Enjoy the experience.”
Tomorrow, we get back to talking about the Floridian quest for New York. And the Sedona runners can sleep in. For results, go to www.sedonamarathon.com.
I loaned the blog to Phil Wharton in Arizona this week to use to encourage his Sedona runners. Marathon runners are like this. We're hugely supportive of each other.
Also, if one is in the New York City Marathon lottery system (as I am), one naturally hopes that Sedona runners might be so thrilled with their marathon that they won’t apply for New York. Without an inundation of Arizonans, the odds of a Floridian New York lottery applicant getting in might increase from one chance in a gazillion to one chance in a bazillion. I’m not saying that I’m self-absorbed, but I could see a small, serendipitous, personal benefit to helping Phil make the Sedona experience a successful one.
Besides, if I don’t get into New York in November, I might be running Sedona next February … and I want them to look kindly upon me. “Say, isn’t that Bev, the blogger who sacrificed her postings for an entire week just so Phil Wharton could keep us pumped up last year? I ran a PR because of her. Let her have extra Gatorade!”
But mostly, honestly, and really, I got caught up in the excitement of Sedona and red rocks. Phil and his runners have been going through all the “week before” preparation so familiar to me after sixteen marathons. I loved it. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all well today. As Phil always says, “Enjoy the experience.”
Tomorrow, we get back to talking about the Floridian quest for New York. And the Sedona runners can sleep in. For results, go to www.sedonamarathon.com.
Friday, February 5, 2010
FRI: Countdown to Sedona from Phil
One day to Go Time!
Short discussion about the "few showers" predicted: We are not going to let a little rain spoil our fun on one of the most beautiful courses in the world. Arizona needs the rain!
Here are four tips to help you make this marathon your best ... even if you get a little wet.
1. Wear light technical clothing that won't get too heavy in a downpour.
2. Use a light running cap to keep your hair dry and keep your view of the road open.
3. Wear shoes that have mesh uppers so they drain better. Make sure your socks are thin so they won't bunch up and cause blisters.
4. Bring dry clothes to change into right after the race.
Quote for the day: “Ask yourself: 'Can I give more?' The answer is usually: 'Yes.' " -Paul Tergat, Kenyan professional marathoner
I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re ready. Enjoy the experience.
Phil
__________________________________________
Forecast Sat Feb 6
Few Showers
52° High
40° Low
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)