Should I Tri?

I probably shouldn't be looking beyond Chicago at this point. I would be better off focusing on the race, doing some visualization, concentrating on my diet and hydration and all that good stuff...

At the very least I should be concerning myself with the logistics and arrangements for the big weekend, but I haven't actually done any of that yet. Heck, I'm not even sure I have a confirmed flight booking and, unlike all my fellow Chicago-ers, I am not yet in possession of the all-important registration card. Ho-hum. Not to worry, it will all come together soon I'm sure.

What a difference to my attitude before my first marathon - less than one year ago - when I suspect I had my bags fully packed, and every scrap of marathon literature read and re-read 15 or 20 times, a good four weeks in advance of the race.

But on my final few long runs recently, my wandering mind has lead me to ponder just what my next challenge will be. I have no solid post-Chicago plans, which may be very bizarre for me, given that I've been in marathon training mode pretty much continuously since May '03. Over the past few years I've developed what I imagine to be a realistic fear that I will turn into a couch potato of elephant proportions within a couple of months if I have no set target. I'm the type who needs a tangible goal to motivate myself into consistent, hard training. I'm an all or nothing girl. Black or white. On or off.

The concept of triathlons has been worming my way steadily into my imagination lately. I got the idea from a number of experienced triathletes I now know - through Hellgate and elsewhere. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a runner at heart. It's in my soul; it's my identity. I can't imagine too many years will go by without my running New York again, and definitely London. But after Chicago, I can see myself taking a break.

The concept of a triathlon does not seem completely insane (& impossible) now. My relationship with swimming has changed recently from one of casual perfunctory detachment to mild love affair. Whereas I was too intimidated to go near the 'fast lane' in the Y's pool one year ago, I've noticed lately that its often too slow for me. Occasionally, I've even been known to overtake those strange creatures who show up wearing flippers or hand paddles!

Cycling has an allure also. Last weekend, a half-hour after my 16 miler with Suzanne and Josh (last long run before Chicago - yay), I was persuaded to join my husband and our local gang of biking friends for a 20 mile round trip ride to Flushing Meadows. I really enjoyed myself! I'm not denying I have some issues to overcome regarding cycling and cyclists before the sport earns a warm place in my heart anywhere like that of running and swimming, but hey - stranger things have happened. I must admit I got quite a kick out of my little duathlon on Saturday.

Along the way, training for and running marathons lost what I would call a sense of fun per se. But I've heard that - tough as they may be - triathlons are thoroughly enjoyable. With all the amazing female triathletes around me, I would be assured of having the support, encouragement and mentoring I would need. These aspects, on top of the thrill of the new challenge, and the well-rounded variety of training required, I believe a tri might be just what I'm looking for.

It's a matter of priorities...

My brother-in-law is the only other person I know who enjoys the 'what-would-you-rather...?' game quite as much as I do. You know the one...

"If you could be transformed into the most beautiful person in world, or win millions on the lottery, which would you choose?"

"If you had to have one 6 foot-long arm or one 6 inch-long leg, which would you choose?"
"If you had to be blind or deaf....."

...well, I didn't say the game was in good taste!

Last weekend when he was visiting, we fired these hypothetical choices back and forth to each other at a restaurant (putting our neighboring diners off their food, no doubt), until he posed this one to me: "if your IQ could be permanently increased by 40 points, or you could shave one hour off your best marathon time in Chicago, which would you choose?"

To me this was a complete no-brainer. There's no question. In contrast to all the other tricky scenarios conjured up by Dan's twisted imagination, this one took me less than one second to return my verdict. I would put money on the fact that most runners out there would give the same obvious answer I did. Am I wrong?

But Dan couldn't get over it. For the rest of his visit, he would continually repeat aloud my decision, and laugh. But a 2:38 marathon! Are you kidding? There's a lot more than mere intelligence I would sacrifice to achieve something like that! But his reaction made me look at myself, and this passion and competitiveness and drive I have in a different light. For a moment, I saw myself how other (non-runners) might see me. As a very odd person with whacky priorities.

I guess that's another reason why it's important to seek out the company of like-minded folks. Surrounded by crazies like ourselves, we blend right in. =)

Awe

I have to caveat my recent post in which I waxed-lyrical about my mum's great athleticism, after checking out the results of this Saturday's NYRR Fitness Magazine Mind, Body, Spirit Games. I concede that there they may actually be one female masters runner in this area against whom my mum would never stand a chance.

Check out this picture of Kathryn Martin, a 53 - yes FIFTY THREE - year old local from Northport, NY. (Does she look not a day over 35 or what?!) She won the 4 mile race outright in a time of 24:26. That's an age graded percentage of 93.6.

Can I just say: HOLY SH*T!

I am not so imperceptive as to never have noticed this woman and her amazing stats before. Only this time I was so awed that I was motivated to do a little research and quickly discover she was awarded the USA Track & Field Bengay Masters Athlete-of-the-Year prize as well as Masters LDR Outstanding Athlete for 2004.

Talk about some serious R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Under Pressure

It's been a while since I've had quite so much on my metaphorical plate. I'm moving apartments this weekend, working 9-12 hour days in the busiest time of the year for my industry, and have guests coming to stay for the next three weekends in a row. The marathon is looming, and it'll soon be taper-time, but I still somehow have to fit 46 miles into this week, including a 22 on Saturday - time that really should be spent frantically packing.

I'm even stressed about my supposedly more leisurely pursuits; my book club meeting is tomorrow and there's still 100 pages left to read. ARGH!

It's perhaps no surprise that I have David Bowie's "Under Pressure" endlessly playing through my head.

Calm, calm, deep breaths, chill...

Yesterday I experienced my first flurry of butterflies thinking about Chicago. Not nerves per se, just excitement. I'm anticipating the wonderful emotionally charged atmosphere that I've only ever felt at marathons. Nothing beats it.

Other than that, with 3.5 weeks to go, I have felt little else in relation to the race. Certainly no hypochondriac paranoia as yet. I wonder if the usual fear and panic and doubt will hit some time soon? With everything else I've got going on at the moment, I'm glad to predict that it's doubtful.

Dear Cyclists

Bear in mind when reading this that I am actually on your side. I myself own a bike, and have been known to go on an organized ride or two. I have little doubt that at some point in my life I will step up my biking activity to the point where I compete in a triathlon. Heck, my own husband is a fanatical cyclist. I’m as anti-car as you. I’m very proud of the fact that in the 14 years I’ve held a license, I've owned just one (fuel-efficient) car. And that was for just two years, and because unfortunately we had to have it for work. Believe me when I say I am a sympathizer.

But I've also got to say that I'm developing a very poor impression of the cyclists of this city. On Sunday morning I ran a very pleasant 15.5 mile route to Prospect Park and back. When running down Kent Avenue approaching the Brooklyn Navy Yard, I realized that I was traveling along part of the course (in reverse) of the New York Century Ride. At first I was very happy about this; I thought that this was a very nice coincidence as my husband Matt and a few of our friends were participating in that very ride. I enjoyed watching hundreds of people go past having fun, and hoped that I would see Matt et al. so I could say hello.

But then it all turned a little sour. These cyclists were running red lights all over the place. They were veering left and right, weaving right in front of traffic. I witnessed parents encouraging their kids to keep moving across a major intersection through a red light and in the face of a 40mph oncoming truck. On more than one occasion I got yelled at for jogging across streets (when I had the walk sign!) as small clusters of them haphazardly turned the corner heading straight at me. I must have heard at least 50 car horns honked at cyclists whom I could see were acting as if they were blind to all other road vehicles. I mean, WHAT THE HELL?

More than once or twice I have heard "fucking runners" muttered under the breath of pedestrians inconvenienced by the thousands of us that commandeer the Central Park recreation lane during a weekend morning race. And, for the most part, I can actually comprehend their annoyance. But hey - at least those are races! We have a good reason not to want to be slowed down or stopped in our tracks. But I don't presume for a second that I have the right to run without frequently giving way to others under any other circumstance - particularly when I'm out and about on NYC's open roads. What the hell is a cyclist's excuse when he's out for a leisurely Sunday fun ride? I must admit, I myself barked "fucking cyclists" a few times this Sunday.

If you are megalomaniac or self-righteous enough to think you should be entitled to ride continuously without interruption, without having to stop at junctions like the rest of us, without having to adhere to the road laws, then I've got two options for you. Become a much better cyclist and qualify for a race like the Tour de France, or do nothing at all but join in the BCLU's critical mass gatherings that occur every Friday at 7pm. And if you absolutely must cycle like you have no respect for life, then for Christ's sake, please don’t teach your kids that what you're doing is acceptable cycling etiquette!

I believe cycling to be a very dangerous sport; we share the road with vehicles 10 times our size and weight, driven mostly by people who see nothing else on the roads but other large vehicles. We have nothing to protect ourselves but a helmet (if we're sensible!), but we are capable of traveling at speeds on par with – or faster – that those cars and trucks around us. We are practically invisible and totally exposed. So WHY don't all cyclists want to ride in a way that mitigates these inherent dangers?

I agree that you have the moral high ground, that you care more than the average person about the environment, that you play no part in this country's approximate 40,000 deaths per year caused by car drivers, that you don’t contribute to the government's rationale to wage wars on countries out of a greed for cheap oil. But none of this is any excuse. Nobody - not pedestrians, car drivers, truck drivers, motorcyclists, runners, skateboarders, NOBODY has the right to run red lights and veer randomly back and forth across streets, and then get uppity and abusive when other road users impede your progress. Nobody (with the possible exception of diplomats) is immune from the rules of the road.

I was ready for an argument when Matt got home and I confronted him about his annoying fellow cyclists. But much to my surprise, he completely agreed. He said it had been the most poorly organized ride ever, and he has no plans to do it again next year. He and our friends had themselves been yelling at others all day for putting their own and others' lives at risk by running red lights and generally riding with careless abandon. Apparently, a lot of the riders were acting as if it was a closed course with a police escort - which patently was not the case.

While I'm ranting, I might as well ask - WHAT THE HECK is up with cyclists on the 59th Street Bridge? Every 50' or so on the bridge, the lane on the south side is painted with large white images of bicycles. To me, it couldn’t be clearer: bikes on the south, pedestrians on the north. Are cyclists blind? I've lost count of the number of times I've had a cyclist head straight at me on my side of the lane, and ‘tut’ for having to move over (to where they should rightly have been in the first place!). I'm still waiting for a good answer to that mystery.

And one last thing, why don't all cyclists have a fricken BELL (or a horn or a whistle) attached to their bikes?! It goes a long, long way to adequately alerting others to your presence. It's much more effective than squeaking "on your left" or some such, and it is actually a legal requirement.

I agree wholeheartedly that NYC should be more bike-friendly. That Amsterdam and Quebec City etc. are LIGHT YEARS ahead of NYC - or any American city for that matter - in terms of being pro-bike, out of a long-sighted and intelligent consideration for the environment, safety, and the heath and fitness of us all. I am mindful and appreciative of organizations like the 5BBC and Transportation Alternatives who do a (largely) good job of advocating for cyclists and pedestrians and pushing to turn this city toward being a more civilized, less polluted, altogether more pleasant place to live and work.

But in my opinion, there are a small minority of cyclists out there who do not do this cause one lick of good by behaving like rude and reckless morons.

Happy Birthday

September 11th has always been an important date in my family's calender; it is both my mum's and my wee brother Lewis' birthday. Mum and Lewis are the true sports addicts in my family. In comparison, I am but a mere dilettante.

From a very young age it became obvious to everyone that Lewis possessed an extraordinary talent for most sports, particularly those requiring hand-eye coordination.

Our older brother Innes recently recalled a classic example of this from our childhood. He and Lewis were playing darts together, when the younger-by-seven-years sibling hit three perfect bullseyes in succession. Lucky fluke you say? The scary thing was that just prior to that moment he had announced to Innes that that was precisely what he intended doing. Darts turned out to be just the tip of the sporting iceberg. He grew up to become an outstanding footballer, volleyballer, snow/water skiier, tennis/snooker player and golfer....to name but a few. He also ceilidh dances beautifully, juggles like a pro, hits a baseball as if he grew with the sport, and scores close to 300 with ease in a game of bowling. But the highlight of his teenage sporting achievements came when he was a top ranked Scottish table tennis champ, and was on the reserve team for the Commonwealth Games. He is now the #10 senior in Scotland. In the most sickeningly perfect application and synergy of natural aptitude and passion of anyone I've ever known, Lewis chose a career in physical education.

I could - and frequently do - go on ad nauseam about my mum to anyone who will pretend to listen. After raising the three of us and a 27 year hiatus, mum decided to get back into running. Self coached, and in her forties, she ran PRs of a 41:10 10K, a 1:28 half and, most terrifyingly - a 3:10 London marathon.

I was far too busy drinking heavily at university to realize my mum had become one of the UK's elite masters runners. Even if I had realized, I wouldn't have truly understood the significance. I certainly do now however, since becoming a serious runner myself. I believe it helps to have an insider's perspective to fully comprehend somebody's talents and achievements.

On two of the three occasions mum has visited me here in NYC, we were lucky to have the opportunity to run a local NYRR race. It should not have come as any surprise to me that mum won her age group both times by a fairly hilarious margin. Every now and then I will check the results of races, just to satisfy myself over and over again that she would resoundingly win her age group every time. But 50-54 year old New Yorkers can rest easy, as this Sunday she will move into the next age group (55-59 year olds watch out!)

Remove the sporting heroics completely from the picture though, and you are still left with two of this planet's more wonderful, kind, smart, funny, loving and all-round decent human beings. And as with the rest of my family and all my friends across the pond, I miss them very, very much.

Happy Birthday folks!

Chalk & Cheese

It should go without saying that I feel guilty claiming to have had a rough time of it lately. I can't quite get it through my spoiled brat of a head that the wonderful city Matt and I visited just 7 weeks ago is, for all intents and purposes, no more. But I'll be honest and say that the pressures of city life have been getting to me over the past few weeks, and a weekend spent in middle-of-nowhere, PA was exactly what the doctor ordered.

I had intended to run just a 13 or 14 this Sunday, given that my schedule sensibly directs me to alternate 'longs' with 'mediums', but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity that presented itself in Pennsylvania. Coincidentally, four of the six of my vacationing group of friends are training for a marathon, and we all needed to run something substantial while away. Sunday morning we awoke to a perfect running day: mid-sixties farenheit and low humidity. A light mist drifted over the dewy lawn as we all piled sleepily into the car for the short drive to the Pine Creek Rail Trail. This is a completely flattened out path which cuts through PA's Grand Canyon (yes, they have one). It is perfectly soft but stable underfoot, with lush, dense deciduous and evergreen forests lining the way, providing much appreciated shade and oxygen.

We all set off at different paces, and I was soon up front and all alone. For the first ninety minutes it felt like I had the whole world entirely to myself, that was - save for a few thousand cicada, seven deer, two chipmonks and a rabbit. As morning stretched itself toward afternoon though, I started to pass, and was passed by many happy families of cyclists and hikers.

In the last 3 or 4 miles I picked it up to an unusually strong pace. I felt wonderful, and not at all like I was running 21 miles. A run like this came at just the perfect time for me, and has done wonders for my confidence. It has removed completely any concerns that I had built up over Chicago being almost totally flat. A subsequent afternoon of frolicking in a sub-70F pool has helped my legs feel since that I did little more than a short tempo workout that day.

This long run could not possibly have been more different to my last. It was by far the best long training run of the season, and I would be most surprised if it were topped over the next few weeks.

Nothing like the beauty and serenity of the countryside, in sharp contrast to the stresses of work and a smog-choked big city summer to make me reconsider for a moment my choice of living arrangements. No doubt that soon I'll revert to being the city chick I forever proclaim myself to be, but for now, there's no shame in admitting I could see myself a country girl.