A charged Garmin is a happy Garmin, and makes for a happy runner come the a.m., 8 hours ago
@matthews_mark Ain't it weird how running, unlike many exercises, grows to such a part of life you need to ask permission of loved ones?, 9 hours ago
@fancyrants Spammers rot in hell. Put ad on Craigslist Thur. Got response for more info. Responded. Told about "great opportunity." F'em., 13 hours ago
With most kids, you can take one look and say, “Oh, she’s just like her mother.” In the genetic lottery children often come out at least looking 60/40, 70/30 or even 100 percent like one parent or the other.
Not so with girlie. I think she’s a dead-on 50/50 of her mother and myself. This look, that mannerism. She gets a little from mom, a little from dad in what appear to be equal helpings. (Except with the talking with the hands; I don’t know where she gets that from.) But when it comes to sleeping: That seems to be all-dad.
After night shifts I and make a habit of checking on her when I get home. I creep upstairs and pull the comforter up on her if needed, or just watch her for a minute. Yeah, I’m a sappy dad. But anyway, the other night I found her with her blanket, Mack, wrapped tightly around her face. I laughed, hard, and took this picture.
I sleep with a pillow on my head. I don’t know why, and can’t remember ever not doing it. But I do. And, beside the blanket incident, I’ve also caught girlie sleeping with a pillow on her head, and with Bo, her bear (pictured, in back) covering her head as well. So it’s clear she has some natural compunction to bury her head in pillows, bedding, whatever in order to comfortably sleep.
I also, on occasion, sleep with my eyes open. I’m told it’s creepy. Girlie also does this, so it’s not just the pillow thing.
You would think a child would learn sleep peccadilloes. But she seems to have picked these things up naturally. It’s not like I spent nights teaching her these things. So I’m calling it genetics. At least until I’m proven otherwise.
The last few months find me shifting my approach to running. I’m getting more personal.
Yes, I still track everything. I even do it on the Web. But I’m not as focused on the Web bit, and a lot more interested in reflecting on how I do what I do, and how to keep doing it and even improve. To that end, much of my thoughts on running now go in a Moleskin.
Yes, it takes more time, at least compared to just hitting “Done” in Runkeeper. But after each run, I sit and look at my times, my pace and how I felt, and I jot a few notes. I’ve never aced journaling (you can tell by how often I actually update this site), so we’ll see how long this lasts. I’ve been at it since early November. Sometimes, I forget, and catch up a few days later. And that’s OK. But I think it’s a worthwhile habit. Plus, years from now, after I’ve forgotten what Daily Mile is, this Moleskin will be sitting on a shelf somewhere for my daughter to open and chuckle over.
At right is an example page. No mystique. No bull. Just rambling thoughts about how the run went. In this case, it was a look back on the first run I did with my new Garmin FR210.
And while I’m on the subject of the FR210, another thought. Call it a minor rant. The Runkeeper site, which I had used to log miles from my iPhone, doesn’t work with the FR210. It apparently works with every other Garmin, but not this model. Boo. I do like Runkeeper, and was hesitant to change. I find the Garmin site more useful when I want to get granular. But I’m now mainly using the data to get analog and analyze in my Moleskin. And I’m liking it.
So, I got hijacked over the weekend, causing some heroic scurrying on the part of my brother/Web guru.
The hacker likely exploited a WordPress vulnerability to supplant my site with the following splash screen.
Baader Meinhof was apparently a terrorist group from 1970s Germany, though how the name ended up as a modern day hacker’s moniker is anyone’s guess. It probably just sounds anti-, so why not use the name for malicious mischief?
Anyhow, big thanks to bro. Passwords changed. Moving on.
It happened before I knew it. Of course, I couldn’t stop it. She just keeps growing. So last weekend I converted our IKEA crib to a toddler bed. It looks so small, yet it meant such a big change to her. She spent hours in her bedroom in the days after.
Get in bed. Get book from bookshelf. Get back in bed. Out. Grab toy. Back in bed. She was infatuated. I was delighted.
She never tried to climb out of her crib. I feared she would, and suspected she could if she tried. But we were never awakened in the night by a thump, punctuated with a cry for mommy or daddy.
The first night, she went right to bed. I tucked her in and we didn’t hear a peep. The second night, I think I had to put her back in bed three times. Each time, I grew more frustrated. But we did this for a reason: so she could get up, and potty in the night. I tried to keep perspective. We’re sick of washing sheets three, four, five times a week.
On the third night, she slept through, but woke us up at about six. She bypassed the bathroom near her room, came all the way downstairs and wanted to use her potty chair in mommy and daddy’s room. Progress.
Yesterday, I busied myself in the basement as I waited for her to wake up. I came back to the first floor to find she had, soundlessly, made her way from the second floor. She had taken her wet diaper off, and I caught her trying to put on a pair of toddler underwear we keep in her diapering basket. Not quit the progress I expected.
But, I gave her a kiss on the forehead for her efforts, and led her to the potty. Girlie has a big girl bed now. You go, girl.
Finally. I promised myself I wouldn’t buy a GPS watch until I could confidently say “I’m a runner.” Three marathons, a half marathon and almost 2,000 miles* later, I can’t deny it any longer.
I’m a runner. And now I have a shiny new Garmin Forerunner 210 to celebrate.
I hemmed and hawed for a a week over which to buy, but in the end went for the cheapest GPS watch I could find that would:
Display current or average pace.
Show distance.
Do automatic mile laps (so I could see where my feet get heavy over long runs).
Allow for intervals with warm up and cool down periods.
Have a relatively small profile.
The FR210 does all of these, and a bit more (like work with a heart monitor if I want to go there). It doesn’t do as much as the Timex Run Trainer. But, my G+ running peeps all poo-pooed the Timex and I couldn’t find it at local stores to at least see how big it was in comparison to the 210.
I also thought seriously about the Soleus 1.0, which is about as basic and cheap as they come. At $99, it has all the features on that list except intervals. The Soleus doesn’t work with a computer (to offload your data), but I’m finding I care less and less about that. I guess it’s nice to have maps to refer to, but I hardly ever refer to them. That said, the Garmin does upload workouts to my computer, so better to have and not need than need and not have. Really, though, it was the intervals that pushed me toward the Garmin.
The FR210 so far is stupid-easy to use. I took it out of the box, tossed the instructions aside, charged it for 10 minutes and hit the road for 5 miles. I find the interface intuitive and easy to read. I worried a bit about the controls being goofy for a left-hander who wears his watch on his right hand. Not so. The buttons are big enough to find and press without much effort, and once I memorize where their locations/functions, it’ll become brainless.
I look forward to having it as a digital companion.
*An estimate. I could find a record of 1,758 miles dating back to June 2008, but started running the previous fall.
I’ve decided I hate the iOS Newsstand. I don’t buy magazines on my phone, and don’t plan on it. Pulse provides the news feeds I need, and I don’t even check that every day. It’s more of a waiting in line thing.
What I do get, as part of a paid subscription, is the New York Times. But now the app is hidden in Newsstand. I never see it, and thus never check it. Yes, it’s just one more click to launch. That shouldn’t be much of a problem. But it is.
Let me repeat: When I don’t see the app on my home screen, I don’t think to launch it. It’s just that simple. Are you listening, New York Times? My usership has plummeted due to Newsstand. I’ve opened the app once since updating to iOS 5.
Newsstand is just another wack app foisted on iOS users, like Stocks, and Game Center (though I’m sure this is a minority opinion for the latter).
In other peeves, I love my iPhone more than the next guy. But even I wouldn’t check Facebook and Twitter half a dozen times during a movie. That’s exactly what the wife and I witnessed last week at a viewing of Martha Marcy May Marlene.
Um, WTF?
There is no reason to check Facebook during a film. Period. Full. Stop. You paid $8 for the right to sit in that seat, and you’re bored by whatever’s on screen. I get that. Get up and leave. But don’t subject everyone else in the theater, many of whom actually want to watch it, to the light from your smartphone. It’s beyond discourteous. It’s dickish.
The movie, by the way, was fantastic. Elizabeth Olsen may have best actress in the bag. See it. But keep your damn smartphone in your pocket with the ringer off.
This month, I ran a marathon and saw my little girl turn 2. How’s your October been?
I told Mrs. Blocletters recently that I still can’t believe I can run 26.2 miles. I find it surreal. Four years ago this fall, I hadn’t run longer than a half mile. Now, I’m a marathoner three times over and counting. Not trying to brag, but I have trouble believing it myself.
Also in the disbelief department, our girl is 2. How does time travel so fast?
Girlie, on the warming table minutes after she joined the family.
Girlie, a few days ago, dressed up as an ice cream cone for a Halloween event. She won a little trophy for funniest costume.
At 2, she:
Responds to most directions with “No!”
Still isn’t fully potty trained, but whatever.
Loves to sing and generally make noise.
Likes swings. A lot. And slides.
Could probably watch YouTube videos for hours.
Has only broken 1 iPad.
Has a bigger vocabulary and more sass than I would have thought.
My wife and I are truly blessed to have such a bright young lady in our lives.
Back to running, I have no idea yet about a next goal. I know I want to keep running marathons, and expect to do at least two in 2012.
The biggest goal for next year: run without injury. I got over that pesky stress fracture in time to race Detroit, but a week later have an unexplained pain running through the top back of my left leg. No idea. I don’t think it’s running related. I just woke up a week after the race with an odd pain. It didn’t bother me to run with it Sunday (5 miles, 8-minute pace), but it does hurt like hell to bend at the waist.
Meh, walk it off.
Aside from marathons, I’m intrigued by ultramarathons and triathlons. Running marathons has left me wondering what else is possible with this body of mine, and amazed at potential I didn’t know was there until I looked.
In the meantime, I’m enjoying what life holds, from family to fatherhood to running to whatever. Thanks for reading.
After this race, I feel both great and grateful. The recovery three days on matches my higher fitness level now versus the first road marathon in 2009. The first half hour or so after the race was rough for my legs. Later Sunday, I was moving around fine. The soreness lessened Monday, moved a bit into the calves on Tuesday, and is almost gone today — thanks in part to a 30-minute trip through the YMCA sauna.
I’m thankful I got to the starting line, let alone the finish line. The foot I injured held up well and I actually ran the whole race (save for a 100 foot or so break on Belle Isle).
So, on to the race report. (Here’s the map, if you want to follow along.) It was slow to begin: The crowd didn’t thin out until after the Ambassador Bridge, about mile 4. I will remember running over the Ambassador for a long time. It may live on as my only exception to hating running in wind.
(Tangent: The day’s most ridilous sight — a relay runner on the bridge wearing a Camelbak for a 5ish mile run.)
Windsor was drizzly, but crowds made up for it. I also saw my favorite sign there:
Ice cold beer,
reasonable prices,
21 miles —>
I liken the Windsor Tunnel experience, miles 7 to 8, to running through a stinky sauna. And on the way out, the cool air offered an unpleasant contrast. Not my favorite part of the race. There was, however, good crowd support on the way out.
The route wound past Cobo Center, down Lafayette and west into Mexicantown. Here I found two highlights of the race — a mariachi band and a block were I could smell nothing but cooking pork. I think it was from Honeybee Market. After 11 miles or so, it smelled like heaven.
We wound through Corktown (seeing another favorite sign: “Run faster, we’re cold”), dipped over to Campus Martius to wrap up the first 13. At this point, my energy was still good, but I had the first inklings of GI issues. Nothing major (yet) just a busy stomach.
About mile 15, I saw a neighbor on the sidelines. He was a welcome sight, and seeing a familiar face boosted my energy a bit. By this point, I was starting to dread my Sports Beans. I knew I should probably keep taking them, but I stomach roiled when I did.
In Indian Village, I had the best Pabst ever. About mile 17, a couple people handed out tiny Dixie cups of beer with polka music blaring. I think a little bubble actually helped my angry belly.
It seemed like forever from mile 17 to 19. I kept expecting to emerge onto Jefferson within sight of Belle Isle, but my head was playing tricks with time at this point. I knew I was tired, and my calves ached. I tried my best to relax and remind myself to hold proper form as closely as possible. Midfoot, midfoot, midfoot. Light strike. Short strides.
Jefferson paved the way to mile 19, and then I turned onto MacArthur Bridge to Belle Isle. The bridge has a much softer grade than the Ambassador, so it wasn’t too much of a problem, even for tired legs. I remember feeling intense relief to see we bisected the island, doing only about 2.5 miles as opposed to the 5-mile loop around the coast. The math didn’t add up for the whole loop, but my head wasn’t making a lot of sense by then.
Halfway through mile 21 I took my only walk break. A cramp had threatened to tie up the back of my right leg on the way over to the island, but subsided. Now, it felt like it would make my whole leg seize up. I had to stop, and had to apologize when I realized I stopped with another runner right on my heels.
I spent about 50 paces walking and rubbing the back of my leg just below my butt. I must’ve looked like a complete idiot, but I’m sure other runners streaming around me at least understood.
It took real effort to get started again, and I knew I had to dig deep to reach the finish. I passed mile 22 on the way back to the bridge, the back of my leg still twinging uncomfortably.
On the way down to Jefferson, I dropped my water bottle — twice in the span of about 20 feet. The second time, I almost left it.
Coming off the bridge tired and dispirited, I passed my neighbor again. Strange how a familiar face can bring you back to center. I chugged on toward mile 23 and, to my surprise, passed the 4:10 pacer. I pushed harder thinking, there’s no way I’m letting this guy finish ahead of me.
We wound toward the Riverfront. Mile 24. We turned onto Atwater for a long straightaway. I kept the pacer in my rearview until we turned onto Rivard (the corner I volunteered at in 2010). Rivard slopes steeply up to Larned and mile 25. My gas tank sputtered. I had fumes left. As the pacer passed me, I asked if he was on target. “About a minute and a half ahead,” he said.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” I replied. At least if I can keep sight of him, I could finish under 4:10, I thought. I trudged on with whatever little energy I could muster.
I passed mile 26, turned the corner onto Fort and was greeted with shouts of “Go, Jeremy!” It was my aunt and uncle, and I knew the rest of the family/street team couldn’t be far behind. I lifted my arms over my head in a wan sign of accomplishment and pressed toward the finish.
The medal from the Free Press Marathon must weigh 8 oz. It’s two or three times the size of my other marathon medals, and my neck sagged as a volunteer placed it on me at the finish line. My final time was 4:02:54. Even better news: The 4:10 pacer was counting from the first heat’s gun, not my heat, and it had taken me 7 minutes to cross the starting line and activate my chip.
Video of me crossing the finish line, courtesy of my brother.
Anyway, I’ve rambled on too long, so I’ll digest the rest. Reunited with family. Shaky, crampy, unable to eat. Worked out GI issues (don’t ask). Zombie walk to the People Mover. Best. Chocolate milk. Ever. Trip home and (after appetite returned) the inhalation of a double Bagger Dave’s burger with an egg on top, a whole bag of fries and a well-deserved Two-Hearted Ale. Nap.
Marathon No. 3, in the bag. Thanks to my wife, family and friends for support.
I set out to do 3 or 4 miles today, and felt great out on the road. So great, in fact, that I pushed through for 6.5 miles at 8:45 pace. It’s the longest I’ve run in more than four weeks, and I’d grade it an A-. I still feel the healing fracture, but today’s run was better than even two days ago, when I ran 1.7 miles.
During Sunday’s run I had some gait issues. The sore spot on my foot forced me to heel strike with my left and slowed me down. But I could run (and fared better on grass), and because of that I rated that run a B-.
Today’s run went even better. If I dial back my gait and maintain a ruthlessly neutral strike, I can keep it up. Well, at least I can keep it up for a quarter of the distance I want to clear a week from Sunday at the Free Press Marathon.
So, based on today’s results, I’m going to try a long run this weekend (long being relative). I’ll see how far I can get, maybe 10 or 12 miles. That’ll be the decisive run.
Jeremiad:n A long, mournful complaint or lamentation.
I’m sure my two readers have long since given up, fed up with a long tale of woe I’ve spun about my stress fracture. Rest assured: The end is near.
Walking no longer hurts. Walking down stairs, I barely notice the spot where my bone is healing. And for the last week and a half, that was when discomfort most showed.
The healing continues, so I look forward with guarded optimism. Hell, I might even try a run this weekend. You can get back up to marathon fitness in two weeks, right?
