…always a runner.

This was it. The day that he’d finally been waiting for. The big day which he’d been preparing for since the end of last season and possibly even longer. Really, who knew anymore? He didn’t. His friends didn’t. His coaches certainly didn’t. Maybe he’d been preparing since he’d been born.

And yet he didn’t feel ready as he lay in bed, three hours before the race was to begin. He stared at the ceiling wide-eyed and unable to sleep as the green LED clock on his bedside table flashed 3:30. He thought back to his last month’s training. Most recently, he ran 75 miles last week, preceding that one with back to back century weeks. This week, he ran a mere 45 miles and his body felt great – younger than it had in years.

Yet something didn’t feel right. He did everything he could, but for some reason he feared it wasn’t enough. What if the Finnish runner showed up – the one who ran a three-fifty-two-six in Florida last month? Or worse – what if he didn’t? What if the time came and he stood uncontested in the mile? Would he be able to push hard enough – could he break his three-fifty-five-four?

He tried to psych himself up – tell himself it didn’t matter any more at this point, what happens, happens, but it was no use. So he got up and walked around the hotel a bit. Other runners were milling about in their sweats (since when did America become such a strong running country? But then again, the same could be said for his native Israel…) mostly talking to each other. Every now and then one would smile at him, although he was almost certain nobody recognized him.

He walked outside and shivered in the chilly Colorado midnight air. He glanced at his Timex – 4:02. He read somewhere in an article about a law student from NY who slept outside. The marathoner was quoted as saying four to six in the morning are the coldest hours of the day. Kid knows his stuff. Especially out here in Colorado. The miler made his way back up to his room to put on some music.

At 5:30 he hailed a cab. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe he won’t stop at the Armory. Maybe he’ll just keep on driving into the night. Maybe I won’t have to race. But that’s not the way these things ever work out. They pulled up at a quarter to six.

The miler jogged to the midfield and surveyed the situation. There were runners of all sizes stretching. Some were doing jumping jacks. That looks like a good idea. The awkwardly tall 6-foot-4 miler unfolded his wings and flapped them as he silently bopped up and down. Inside, he was calm. He was beginning to get a feel for the race. He stopped jumping and walked around the track, noting each bump, every slight rise and fall of the clay surface. He was, after all, Israel’s golden boy – their first runner to break 4:00 for the mile. Or to break 4:15, for that matter.

As he finished walking the track , he glanced at his watch. 6:20. Things should be starting soon. He started to jog the inside track as he tried to search out familiar runners’ faces. There was Bruno Helfstatt – no surprise he made it. The Frenchman was here too. He shouldn’t give me much of an issue. I’ve taken him to places he’s never been before – maybe it’s time for him to revisit the land of threes.

The land of the threes, as he’d taken to calling it. Any miler worth their weight in spikes would tell you the same thing. Once you break four, it’s a whole ‘nother game. To some it was known as the forbidden land, to others, hell. The miler called it the land of the threes. He thought it made the most sense.

The runners began to line up as the ref walked between them, cooing to them as he always did – his instructions more to calm their enormously overworked hearts than to actually instruct.

As he watched the ref walk between them, a runner appeared behind him. Who is that in the beard and that wild hair? He seems so…familiar. Wearing…American colors!? It’s him! He’s here! He’s American! But the moment was too late to change race tactics. He would run out on pace, and win the race, whatever it took. He would do what he’d been trained to do so many times before.

The miler closed his eyes and waited for the Ref to speak. On your marks…

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 11,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

To Run

To Run

There’s a door in front of me and it’s red. “Push it,” he says to me. I listen. I always listen. Except when he tells me to hurt people. That makes Karen sad. I don’t listen to the voice in my head when he tells me to do things that make her sad. The door seems heavy but maybe that’s because my arm’s tired. Yesterday, I helped Karen bring groceries in from the car. I always listen.
I don’t know what’s on the other side of the door until it swings open all the way. Now that it’s open, I can see the street and Mrs. Harris walking her dog. She should run with him. She needs the exercise. I’ve never been this far away from home before. I know I’ve been outside for 2 hours because the watch Karen gave me says so. I left when both hands were at the top of the dial; now, just the long, skinny one is. The fat one is two clicks to the right, all alone.
I think it’s interesting that the fat one barely moves while the skinny one moves a whole bunch. I guess that’s the way it works in real life too. I’m skinny. I like to walk around all over and I love to run, but I never leave the block. Daddy though, he doesn’t like to walk too much. But he’ll go far from the block. When he leaves, he takes his Jaguar XK8. It’s got the cherry red paint job with cream-colored seats. Daddy’s fat.
Even though I’m 16 and everyone else my age can drive, Karen told me I can’t. She says maybe one day, but I know she doesn’t mean it. Daddy would never let me drive his car.
I hear Karen calling me, I better hide. She doesn’t approve of me being this far from home – she’s warned me before. I’ll just crawl underneath this bush here.
“Josh! Josh, are you around here?!” She sounds sad.
I don’t like to make Karen sad. I guess it’s time to come out. Let me just stand up and brush myself off first. What should I say to her?
“Hello, mother dearest.” That wasn’t what I was planning on saying. Maybe something a little more 007. Like the movies daddy shows me.
“Josh! You can’t wander this far, you know how I feel -”
I’ll have to scream above her. “The name’s Parker!” Good, she’s stopped talking. “Josh, Parker.”
“Josh, listen to me. You can’t just wander around.”
“Mommy, did you like my 007 entry?”
“Yes, honey. It was beautiful. Now time to come back home.”
“I don’t think so, Karen.”
“Mom.”
“Right. Sorry, mommy. Not yet. I think I’ll walk around a little more. I’ll see you at home in one hour and 15 minutes, when the hands on my clock both face the right. That’s 3:15, mommy.”
“Fine, but don’t be late, you have an appointment with The Doctor at 3:45.”
As soon as Karen turns around to go home, I begin to run. I haven’t run yet today. Or yesterday for that matter. Coach probably wouldn’t be happy with me. One benefit to wearing running clothing everywhere is that I can run anywhere, anytime. Today, Coach assigned me 10 miles to run. I’m usually very good about getting in all of my runs. Yesterday, I was busy reading Hamlet. Twice. So I forgot to run.
I’m running now. Running and thinking. I like to run. When I run by myself, it makes me happy. I feel good and I look good, but I’m also very fast. Sometimes I run so fast that all I hear is the wind in my ears. I like that. My captain’s name is Sam. Sam doesn’t like it when I run very fast. He tells me to save it for the races. I run slowly when he tells me to.
When I run at school, I can run around the school twice, and that will be all the running I need for the day. At home, I can’t go very far, so I have to run back and forth, back and forth, around the block until I run as much as coach tells me to. I feel like a fish in a tank. Team practices are always at school. I like running with the team. I feel normal.
Ten is a lot of miles, if you’re not a runner. If you’re a runner, like me, it’s not so many. On Sundays, we run more than 10 miles. On Tuesdays, we run less than 10 miles. On the other days, we do what coach tells us to. It’s different every day. The 10 miles are almost up, I guess I should start to head home. I’m not tired yet, but I was told to run 10 miles. I always listen.
I started running with daddy. He had a coach too. His coach told him he should start running or he would have problems with his heart. Daddy stopped running after a few weeks but I kept going because maybe if I run I can help daddy’s heart. I miss daddy. He’s usually at work.
When I get home, I have just enough time to shower. I always shower and I never bathe. If I were to take a bath, I would be lying in my own dirt. That doesn’t make any sense. So instead, I shower. I don’t take long showers, because I can’t write or draw or watch television when I’m in the shower. My showers last between four minutes and five minutes. I shower every day because mommy always says nobody likes a smelly boy.
I’ve finished my shower. Today, it took me 4 minutes and 42 seconds. I can hear Karen calling me again. She likes to do that. I won’t respond, that will only waste time. According to my wristwatch, I have only 20 minutes until we have to meet with The Doctor, and his office is five miles away. If we drive 30 mph, it will take us 10 minutes to arrive. So I ignore mommy and get dressed instead.
“Josh! We have to leave soon! Hurry up! I’m making you two sandwiches – one with tuna, and one with peanut butter! The tuna is albacore, the peanut butter is chunky! No crusts, whole wheat bread! I stuck toothpicks through them to keep them neat and put them on two separate plates so they wouldn’t mix! Now get your butt down here!”
Karen knows everything about me. I guess living together for 16 years could do that. I wonder what it would be like to have a brother. If I had a big brother, I imagine he would be proud of me – proud of my running, my memory, my simple rule-following. If I had a younger brother, I wonder if I would be able to take care of him. I can barely take care of myself. The other day, Alex asked me to come play Xbox with him. I told him mommy said I had to come right home after practice. Everybody laughed at me. Everybody besides for Mark. Mark took care of me.
Mark’s on the team with me and we run side by side at practice. Mark is nice to me. He’s my friend. I don’t see him outside of school so much because he lives on the other side of Richmond Ave. It’s too far for him to run and his mom doesn’t let him use the car often. When we run together in school, Mark talks to me and that’s one of my favorite things about being on the team. That and helping daddy’s heart.
We’re in Karen’s car now. “Your car smells funny, Karen.”
“Mommy.”
“No, my name’s Josh.”
“Call me Mommy.”
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
“That’s OK. Did you bring anything for The Doctor?”
“Yes.” I did. I pulled out my notebook and looked over my pictures and notes I had prepared for The Doctor. He likes when I express myself.
“Very good. Do you like your sandwiches?”
“I haven’t eaten them yet. I’m waiting until we’re five minutes away, because it takes me just under five minutes to eat two sandwiches.”
“OK, Josh. I hope you like them sweetie.”
I like it when we sit together and it’s quiet. I can listen to her hum, or I can watch her chest rise and fall when she breaths. She’s a very pretty mother, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my mother. Last Sunday, I kicked a man between the legs because he slapped mommy on the behind when daddy was in the bathroom. When he fell to the ground, I kicked his ear as hard as I could, like I saw in James Bond. Then mommy pulled me away and told me we’ll never be going back to that Applebee’s for dinner again. Luckily for mommy, I watch a lot of James Bond movies with daddy and I knew how to defend her.
I like the couch at The Doctor’s office. It makes me feel safe and it makes me feel comfortable. I like to look down at my running sneakers as I talk. All of my sneakers are running sneakers. Running makes me happy.
“How are you today, Josh?” The Doctor’s voice is very deep and he speaks very slowly. He makes me feel relaxed.
“I’m doing very well, Doctor. How are you today?”
“Fine, fine. Thank you. Do you have anything you’d like to tell me before we begin?”
“Yes. Well, no.”
“No? Or yes?”
“I have things to show you.”
“Wonderful! Let’s see them. When you’re ready.”
I’m ready now. I take out my notebook and open it up. The first is a drawing of a red sports car. If you knew anything about cars, you’d know it’s a Jaguar XK8. Just like my father’s. The Doctor doesn’t know anything about cars though.
“That’s the same drawing of the same car you start off with every meeting.”
“Doctor, that’s my husband’s car.” Mommy knows cars too.
“Ah…now it finally makes sense. Thanks for filling me in. That’s a very nice drawing, Josh. Do you have anything else to show me?”
“Sure Doctor, this next picture is of me stabbing a man.” It was actually a very good drawing. “I used purple blood instead of red because this stabbing took place in a vacuum with no oxygen. Oxygen turns blood red. Did you know that, Doctor?”
“Umm…yes. I knew that. Who is it you’re stabbing, Josh?”
I could tell The Doctor was uncomfortable. Maybe I should have held off a little while to show him the heavy stuff. Karen just sat there, silently listening. I think she’s absorbing the conversation.
“That’s the man who slapped my mommy on the behind. But I have another picture, would you like to see my other one?”
“Yeah…sure. What else do you have for me?”
This one is sure to set him off. As I turn the page, I keep the notebook close to my chest. This way, The Doctor can’t see it. “Doctor, this next picture is very important to me.” I drew the running team during one of our practices, with one small difference. Small, but important. I turn the notebook so The Doctor can now see it.
“It’s a group of runners.
“Naked.”
“Why are they naked Josh?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know who they are?”
“Sure.”
“That’s my team.”
“Why did you draw your team naked.”
“Because nudity is the most pure form of art.”
“I see.”
“Do you know why I run, Doctor?”
“Yes, Josh. We’ve gone over this.”
“I run to help daddy’s heart.”
“I know, Josh.”
“But there’s more. It’s also to escape everybody who looks at me funny.”
“Like the boys on the team?”
“Yeah. The other runners make fun of me. I want them to know what it feels like. Now, my whole team will be looked at funny. Now they’ll know what it’s like to be me.”

24 November, 2011 – Prospect Park 8k Turkey Trot

Executive report: (Skip this if you don’t want a spoiler, read it if you don’t have time to read the words that follow. Skip to the end for pictures) ———————————-

———————————-

Total time: 30:52

Age Group Position: 6th

Overall postion: 37th

———————————-

———————————-

A Special thank you to Yehuda Safier for letting me know about this race and to his brother Noam and Noam’s friend Muller for joining us.

Woke up in the AM not sure about how I would do. This past Sunday was an all-out 8k effort on the infamously and treacherously hilly Van Cortlandt trail. After that race, I ran a little over 7 miles in the rain yesterday, and that was it. But I went to the bathroom – my first sign the day wasn’t going to be all bad.

I chose to wear tights and a long sleeve top as it wasn’t 40 degrees yet when we left. The day’s high was an anticipated 54* but it felt closer to 40* during the race.

We drive to Brooklyn, which took us 45 minutes once the windows defrosted – not too bad. We pick up our bibs and balaclavas (complete with Turkey Trot insignias splayed across them) and I make my way to the bathroom. This second trip was more successful than the first. I leave the restrooms feeling confident and ready to go. We milled about inside the wildlife building where the bib pickup was to keep warm.

I drank a half of a cup of coffee for a little caffeine boost, found Bernd said hello to him and stretched a bit. After this, Yehuda and I dropped off our coats, backpacks, wallets and assorted other accouterments in the trunk of the car. I changed into my flats alone, as Yehuda was planning on taking the day easy with his brother.

We warm up for a mile or so, 8:40 pace, just enough to get my armpits and back a little sweaty, then go back into the wildlife room until 5 minutes to start time. The 4 of us make our way over to the 2500-runner strong start line, where we say our goodbyes. I get as close to the front of the pack as I can (2 seconds behind the lead runner) while they mill about at the back.

—————–

I cross the timing mat and hit the start button on my watch. Bernd runs with me for much of the first mile, which I found somewhat unsettling as our goal finishing times were almost 4 minutes apart. I appreciated the company though, and so I said nothing. I took the first mile easy, heeding my coach’s words to “Go out controlled and relaxed, then maintain and pick off the runners.”

Mile 1: 6:22

At the 1 mile mark, I was a little nervous. I was hoping to go a little faster today, but I began to rationalize the slow pace in my head, seeing as how I ran a championship race just the Sunday prior. As I began to rationalize, we hit a downhill. The rationalizations were knocked clean out of my head as I sped down the straightaway, always picking off runners. I was relatively close to the lead, and was able to see them for most of the second mile. I picked up the pace a bit and felt pretty good.

Mile 2: 6:08 (12:30)

As soon as mile 2 was over, my legs began to hurt. Not all fo my legs, mostly just my quads. I attributed this to Sunday’s race, same as the rest. I was making excuses in my head, and I knew it. I told myself if I ever wanted to run a 1:23 half marathon by February, I would have to bite the bullet and ignore the pain in my gut. The pain in my gut. That incessant nagging cramp which was suddenly revisiting me Tuesday night’s (first) wrestling match (the second one was pretty quick and not painful in the enduro-way). So I buckled down, dug my fingers into my cramp as I saw Andreas Raelert do during the 2010 Ironman World Championships in Kona.

Mile 3: 6:22 (18:52)

I tried doing the math as I passed the 3 mile marker. I thought to myself, 13 minutes for 2 miles is a 6:30 and that will land you with a 31:50. Perfect. A PR! I was exuberant and it showed as I picked up the pace. I ran on one runner’s shoulder for a minute, passed him, caught the next runner, ran with him for a minute or so, then he ran on my shoulder. I wasn’t working as hard as any of the runners I passed. I was pacing for a half marathon, but only running 8k. That was a mistake which I hope will play to my favor in Miami at the 2012 ING Half Marathon.

Mile 4: 6:13 (25:05)

About a quarter of a mile into the last mile, two runners passed me on my left at a very fast clip. Behind them came two runners who I had dropped earlier. I wasn’t about to let them pass me, so I grabbed onto the back of the 4 man blob, circled around to the left side, caught up to the two head honchos and sat with them as the other two runners dropped off. I ran with them for about a minute before I looked down at my watch and realized we were at a 5 minute pace. Maybe that’s why I felt as if I were about to die. I drop off  of the pacers, almost collapse, but hold it together as I begin to hear bells.

The finish line is near. I hear cheering. I see a man in a Santa Claus outfit. I see a man in a turkey suit – a woman in a pilgrim suit, they’re all yelling something at me. I can’t make it out. I push a little more and see the clock: 30:45. 30:45!! All this time I hadn’t been looking at my watch for the elapsed time, just my current pace and average pace. I was coming in way ahead of schedule and had the potential to break 31. So I give it my all.

Mile 5: 5:49 (30:54)

Overall: 30:54/30:59 (6:12) (5 second discrepancy between starting gun and time I stepped over the mat)

Overall Position: 37th

Age Group Position: 6th

Primary Goal: Break 32:00 – Shattered.

I set a new personal record today, chipping off a gigantic block – 1:25. I’m in better shape for this half marathon than I thought I was. I ran the race 6 seconds faster than half marathon pace. According to Mcmillan’s Running Calculator, I need to be abotu a minute faster at this distance to hit 1:23 for the half. Give me a pair of shorts and a better paced race, and I’ll be less than a half minute off of my target. Some thoughts:

• It’s lonely up in the front of the race. There aren’t many people to pace off, as pickings get slim moving up in spots. Hopefully the field will be deeper in Miami.
• Should have worn shorts and light gloves.
• Could have paced better, as was indicated by my 5:49 last mile split.
• I’ll be back next year, hopefully sub 29.

Happy Turkey Day!

20 November, 2011 – Skyline Championships

Executive report: (Skip this if you don’t want a spoiler, read it if you don’t have time to read the words that follow. Skip to the end for pictures)

———————————-

———————————-

Total time: 32:19

Overall postion: 32nd

Position on team: 5th

Team position: 3rd

———————————-

———————————-

That’s it. The season’s over. No more. Nothing left to do now but run around aimlessly until the 2012 Miami Half Marathon at the end of January, hoping to break 1:23.

A special thank you to those of my family who were able to make it out today (Yehudah for his professional photography skills), and of course Leah for coming out as always and taking some killer pictures. Thanks to all of our fans that attended the various races throughout the season – you guys rock.

Woke up this morning, used the restroom once, went through my pre-race ritual of prayer, stretch, motivational videos, stretch, put on the headphones and get in the zone.

On the bus, I was able to focus on my game strategy relatively uninterrupted (until one of the girls began inquiring as to if I was OK or not…) and went through the course several times in my head. I focused on when to speed up, when to maintain, when to attack, when to “drop back” and let the opponent think they were winning.

We arrive, and I use the restroom for the second time.

David, Oliver, Yoni and I walk the course. Or, we walk the 5k. We leave out cemetery hill. The leaves which had all but obscured the trail from view only two days earlier had largely been cleared, which was a great relief, given the dangerous, technical descents of Van Cortlandt Park. The girls start, and we begin milling about, stretching a bit. I drink a 5 hour energy shot and…

I use the restroom a third time.

We warm up back and forth along the finishing chute for the girls, cheering each of them on respectively. We’re really just waiting for the race to start at this point. We take our bibs and timing chips, and get ready to go.

————

At the firing gun, I stay true to my strategy – begin in the back and slowly pick my way through the athletes. Unfortunately, I abandoned that strategy earlier than usual.

As the race begins to separate into the lead group and the chase (mile .25-.5), I find myself leading the chase group alongside my teammate Yehuda Safier. Just up ahead, I can make out teammate Natan Koloski tailing the lead pack. I estimate he was in 50th position at this point. I couldn’t help but turn around. I see that there are an overwhelming amount of runners behind Yehuda and I, and I imagine we are leading them out to war. The adrenaline certainly aided this, and Lux Aeterna played over and over in my head (which is why I chose that music for the video seen below).

The Mile 1 coach was off by about 6 seconds, according to my GPS.

His Mile 1 time: 6:02

GPS Mile 1 time: 6:08

After mile 1, I was running at the front of a group of four Maccabees which had formed. Yehuda, Yoni, Adam and I charged ahead at a measured full speed. Yoni and Yehuda took turns leading the pack with me. As we entered Freshman Hill, we were still rather tight packed, but as soon as we got over the hill, we began to space out a little more.

Mile 2 split: 6:30

In the back hills, I maintained the pace uphill, and let it all go on the downhills. For the most part, I was successful, perhaps slowing down a bit when I caught myself in a 3 man pace-line for 10 seconds. I passed many runners on the uphills and a few on the downhills. It was around this time when I began to wonder where the rest of my team was. I wasn’t used to sitting in 5th place, but lo and behold – there I was. I pushed onward, finishing up the uphill section of the back hills and motoring through the downhill section. My fastest recorded pace on the back hills was 4:45

Mile 3 split: 6:53

Mile 3 holds the little stretch of asphalt where I like to pass runners wearing cleats. I feel it mentally breaks them, even if it’s only a little bit. It also holds the same long downhill which each runner will pass just before Cemetery Hill and just after Cemetery Hill. Right before Cemetery Hill, I nailed it. I recorded a 3:53 going down that hill. After the hill comes a long stretch which is also the finishing chute roughly 1 mile later.

As I reached the flats, I knew there was a runner behind me. I figured I would hold him off until the hills, let him pass me, then teach him a lesson as we got to the hills. My plan worked perfectly. I held him off until within 100 meters of the second entrance into the forest and the eventual Cemetery Hill. Perhaps I slowed my roll too greatly, but he passed me, and I tucked in as he did, matching his pace quite easily.

On the first hill, I passed him and didn’t see or hear from him again.

Mile 4 split: 6:34

Cemetery Hill.

As we approach Cem. Hill, there is a small winding snake-path leading up to the hill which is the first time we can see the competition quite a bit (30 seconds – 1 minute) ahead of us or, from the other side of the path, behind us. I see my teammate Natan ahead of me, which gives me a boost of motivation, as I was right with him during the 8×1000 hill workouts we did on these very hills a week prior.

That, and the fact that this was the last mile make me turn on the jets. As I enter the snake-path, I see teammate Adam Weiss behind me, along with the Sage runner whom I passed 2 minutes earlier. I push harder. I give it everything up Cem. Hill and still manage to hit an 11:17 pace up the hill for a few seconds.

Like the name implies, Cemetery Hill killed me, and I wasn’t as fortunate on the way down the second time as I was the first time. 4:53 was the fastest pace this time around.

As I came out of the hill and reached the flats leading up to the finish line, I see teammate and chief motivator Rivky Jacobov. She begins to yell things at me, but all I can think about is how I’m doing. I remember asking her where Adam was. She told me he was behind me.

I pick up the pace and brace my abs for an extended kick.

My kick lasts 4/10 of a mile, which I complete in 1:42, or ~64 seconds for the first quarter mile of the kick and 38 seconds for the remaining .15.

Mile 5 split: 6:12

At the onset of the season, I promised Coach Benjamin Joslin that my season-long goal was to finish amongst the top 5 this season. Now that I’m here, it’s time to take out Natan and move up to fourth.

Total time: 32:19 (17 seconds off of my previous PR, 26 seconds off my previous CR – Course Record)

Overall Position: 32nd

Position on team: 5th

Team Position: 3rd (by 3 points)

Primary goal: Finish <32:00 – Incomplete

Secondary goal: Beat Adam – Complete

Tertiary goal: Finish 6th on the team – Surpassed

Quaternary goal: Beat Yoni AND Stephen – Complete

This video was filmed by my father, the pictures were taken by Yehudah Perlowitz, Leah Avner and Rose Snyder.