Running Alone

Earlier this week, one of my Twitter friends asked me if I trained alone. I felt a little awkward replying nobody. It's not that I'm opposed to the camaraderie of running, but I don't have any friends here to run with on a regular basis. It hasn't always been that way. I have great memories of long runs with Stroh of Arabia, particularly when we'd head north and explore the top bits of Manhattan. We even ran two 50Ks together, which are among my fondest running memories.

It got me thinking during my long run about running alone. One of the things I like most about running, particularly long distances, is it's disarmingly personal and solitary. Anyone who has run over 20 miles knows this. Go to a marathon, set up shop around mile 22, and look into the eyes of the people going past you. While the cheering and crowds might help, the real battle is personal. They're totally alone, in many ways, confronting uncomfortable truths, like the overwhelming fatigue that inevitably makes them want to quit. But most don't. That's overcoming the Internal Pigdog. Today, I set off for Central Park by myself to run 20 miles. I've done this literally dozens of times, yet it unnerves me each time starting out. I wonder how I'll deal with the discomfort and fatigue. The marathon only heightens this, with the fear of failure always lurking in the background. Tim Noakes wrote some very true (if overly wrought) words about this in his awesome Lore of Running:

Running provides complete solitude. Even in the most crowded races, we reach points where fatigue drives each of us back into ourselves, into those secluded parts of our spirit that we discover only during times of durress and from we we emerge with clearer perspectives of who we truly are.

20.2 miles, 2:27

An Autopsy

It's best to reflect on races a few days later, after the exhileration or, in my case, the disappointment wears off. As JPJ pointed out, I definitely met the pigdog. I wasn't make it up. I've come up with a series of culprits that doesn't include Beck, who did ask me if I was OK when I passed her last at like mile 23.
1) Preparation: I didn't train enough. Everyone is different, but I need to do at least four or five 20-mile runs.
2) Hydration: Duh. In the days leading up to the race, I didn't eat right or hydrate properly. Part of that was just a crazy week at work, but most of it was laziness. I missed some water stations on the course and didn't circle back. Also, a tip to Wayne: lose the volunteers standing in front of the tables blocking them and holding two cups. They're in the way. It's also unclear what's what by having the same color cups and relying on them to shout where the water is, where the Gatorade is. I'm not bitter. Really.
3) The Guy in the Tutu: OK, the guy in the pink tutu with the wand who took GWOT Mark to Chinatwon last year returned. I reeled him in by mile 24, his pink ballerina dress in my sights when I lost lucidity. This hurts.
4) Fate: It's trite, but shit happens. The cool part of the marathon is you never quite know what's going to happen. The wheels can come off, things can all go smooth, legs can cramp, whatever. Too bad, so sad.

At risk on intense boredom, here are my splits up until I went batshit crazy. This shows how out of shape I was. I hit my pace of 7:35 in the middle miles. This is where I wanted to stay until the Wall. I should have kept that pace until mile 20 at least, preferably 22. (In Philly, when I did a 3:01, I ran a 6:46 23rd mile.)
Mile 1: 7:47
2: 7:24
3: 7:38
4: 7:43
5: 7:40
6: 7:34
7: 7:42
8: 7:29
9: 7:33
10 :7:35
11: 7:36
12: 7:35
13: 7:35
14: 7:31
15: 7:35
16: 7:36
17: 7:40
18: 7:41
19: 7:43
20: 7:49
21: 7:54
22: 7:59
23: 8:00
24: 7:59
25: 8:07
26: ????
watch time for 25 miles: 3:12

Lessons Learned

Wow, long mo-fo week. I learned lots, such as the ease with which PR people lie and how my deli guy absolutely cannot take his time to ensure an error-free order scenario. I also learned the importance of appreciating weird shit from the commuting run:
1) You can change in your cubicle after 8:00pm. The risk is minimal, particularly if you shout the "I'll soon be briefly naked here" warning. Cleaning personnel is the real risk here, trust me. They can sneak around the corner without warning.
2) If you run by a guy standing in front of a girl seated at a bench in Riverside Park at 9:00pm on a Friday, there's a fair chance a sex act is involved. For real.
3) "The Irish Goodbye" has a Mexican cousin. This is the term I've used for the guy who is drunk and chooses to disappear without saying his farewells. Tonight, my fiesta host pulled the Mexican version. It involves going to visit a ghost. It's all a little hazy.
4) There's a business version off the pigdog. It's sticking with a startup long after the sheen has worn off, working to build a business and succeeding despite early setbacks. When the market suddenly decides you're worth $1b, it's an incredible moment for the people who spent up to a decade trying to build this kind of value, only to have it suddenly happen. The downside is the person who built a good part of the value in the company but got none of the benefits b/c of corporate BS. I admire builders, not managers, people who take risks and work hard through the inevitable bad times. The only good entrepreneurs I know have been knocked around and come back stronger.

6.5 miles, 47:00 (I forgot my watch, but I felt like I ran fast)

Pigdog Sightings, Saudi Edition

Fighting the pigdog is tough enough, fighing it while simultaneously fighting off a pack of wild dogs is unreasonably difficult. Thankfully, Stroh of Arabia and I are unlikely to deal that in Delaware next month. The Saudi running scene is a different story. From the front lines of the GWOT: "Proud to say I did a solid 2:40 yesterday. Call it 19 miles. Felt pretty good too. There were some stare-downs with the pig-dog, and even more pressing, two seperate incidents with the weird pack of wild dogs that live in the Diplomatic quarter trail areas. They never actually attack, but they'll run after me until I stop and turn and throw a rock. So if I see them or hear them, or if they jump out at me, then I pick up a couple rocks and a stick and run carrying that crap until I get to the next section of the trail where they aren't. Eventful run."

Taking on Mother Nature

The frustrating part of training for a marathon is the many things out of your control, particularly the weather. I've given up worrying about it, figuring to take it as it comes. The worst I can remember is a particularly warm day in Boston in 2002. Well, tomorrow, the Boston Marathon is going to be very, very wet and cold. The storm that caused our local TV station to instruct us to get our "go bags" ready is expected to linger in Boston. This is going to be a serious encounter with the Pigdog.

Participants anticipate the worst weather in the history of the world's oldest continuous marathon when the race begins tomorrow at 10 a.m.Forecasters predict heavy rain, 20 mph winds and temperatures around 40 degrees. Race officials expect to treat many cases of hypothermia among the 23,000 participants.

Run Easy?

Reebok's got a new ad campaign out for its running line. It's taking a very interesting approach, basically conceding the serious runner market for a much larger one, casual runners. I've got no beef with this, since the Second Running Boom is more about health and participation than performance. Outdoor ads say things like, "Why Hit the Wall? It Hurts." Also: "Run + Puke + Run = Crazy." I saw one on the way home that urged me not to try for a personal record. To me, the whole thing celebrates mediocrity. Not mediocrity in the sense that some people are slow, but mediocrity by endorsing not really trying. Maybe it's not cool to try -- ads show runners at the end of marathons in agony, a totally unsexy look, I guess. To be honest, the first time I saw it, I thought it was cool, not pathetic. My favorite place at the NYC Marathon is along Fifth Avenue, at about mile 21. I like to stay there late, past the 3 and 4 hour marathoners. The people who will come in at 5 hours look like crap. I mean, there's no other way to say it. But there's so determined because they're about to accomplish something important to them. At least we know Reebok's on the pigdog's side. Maybe they'll give endorsement deals to those British sailors back from Iran.

5.75 miles, 45:10

Pigdog in the Amazon

Um, there might literally be a pigdog in the Amazon. An amphibious Slovene just swam 3,722 miles down the Amazon, coming up for air in Belem, a presumably delightful port of call described by the AP as "the capital of the jungle state of Para." I'm sure it's lovely this time of year. Martin Strel began his journey on Feb. 1, averaging about 50 miles a day. That's an incredibly long time in the water. But this is Martin's thing: he's swum 1,800 miles of the Danube; 2,300 of the Mississippi; and 2,400 of the Yangtze. Good Lord. Unsurprisingly, Martin came in contact with the pigdog plenty during his swim, what with dodging the piranhas and a face sunburned to the point of blistering. (Martin had escort boats that would pour blood in the water to distract the piranhas. Nice.) But it was the last few days that were, of course, when the pigdog arrived for real:

By Thursday evening, he was struggling with dizziness, vertigo, high blood pressure, diarrhea, nausea and delirium, his Web site said. But despite having difficulty standing and being ordered by the doctor not to swim, Strel was obsessed with finishing the course and insisted on night swimming.

I totally heart Martin Strel.

12 miles, 1:31:03: Running 12 miles used to be easy; it isn't now.

Fat Guy vs Pigdog

Being a running snob, I'm not a huge fan of charity runners in the Boston Marathon. The whole point of Boston is its selectivity: you work to a certain point to be qualify. But there's always the side door through a charity program or, worse, banditry. It looks like this year's charity runners will have a hefty addition: a 438-pound beekeeper from Wisconsin, who vows to run the race on a month's training to raise $100k for the American Cancer Society. The big bee guy makes some specious claims, such as calling Boston "the most physically demanding marathon in the world." I think those who staggered through the Marathon des Sables would probably disagree. Anyway, if the guy doesn't do it -- and really, if push comes to shove, who couldn't shuffle 26 miles in 7 hours? -- you get to place a tattoo on his back. In case advertisers didn't perk up, the eBay listing helpfully adds, "This is a very large man and will be great for publicity." It looks like his training is going well.

Pigdog Thoughts

Thanks to Google, I found someone else musing about the internal pigdog, much more elegantly. This is how Geoff described it last October, in a post about:

You usually have to fight against your Schweinehund while playing a sport or working out, late in the game when you're nearly exhausted but still have to perform. Your inner Schweinehund is the part of you that wants to give up, quit, go home and let the other guy win. The inner Schweinehund can't take it any more, doesn't care about winning or losing, so if you don't want to be a quitter, you have to fight back and beat it.

Right on. Tomorrow, I confront the pigdog on the Lower East Side.

Confronting the Internal Pigdog

About three years ago, I was running lots, probably too much. I started getting strange ultrarunning magazine delivered, Marathon and Beyond, which would profile crazy ultrarunners, many of whom I gathered were either recovering hard-core junkies or bearded Eastern European men. One guy mentioned was this German dude who ran just unbelievable distances by himself. When he was asked how he managed it when he felt like utter dog crap after, oh, 130 miles of running, he said, "You have to defeat your internal pigdog." It turns out to be a German phrase for the depth of your soul that will advise against going forward, taking chances and getting on with it -- basically, the natural incliniation to be lazy. It seems like something everyone confronts everyday, the urge to just stay put.

Miles: 5.75; time: 45:35. It was the first run of the year in snow, albeit just a light coating. Riverside Park was empty. I did see one of my favorite characters: a squat, mustachioed Hispanic man who does intense calisthenics and, shit you not, shadow boxing on the Promenade.