Saturday, October 16, 2004

Almost Done...

I went on my 12 mile run and based on the suggestions from my previous post, I tried 99 Bottles of Beer on the wall. First, the good news. It is actually an up tempo song and my pace actually picked up during all renditions. The bad news is that it took less than two miles to get through all 99 verses.

I then went to the 12 Days of Christmas. I don’t know the words. I have the urge to make each verse “Lords a Leaping”. Anyway, since I’m willing to stuff two syllables where only one belongs, I tried writing my own lyrics. Some references are more obscure than others, depending on how much of a runner you are/were. And here I present:

The 12 Miles of the Training Run

On the 12th mile of my training run, my true love gave to me:

12 shiny medals,
11 race T-shirts,
10 Porta-potties,
9 minutes of walking,
8 EKGs,
7 miles of country roads,
6 side aches,
5 GOLDEN stopwatches,
4 GU gels,
3 Powerades,
2 bloody nipples,
And a pair of running shoes.

Next Saturday is only 8 miles and then next week is the real thing. The Marine Corps Marathon. Semper Fi!

Monday, October 11, 2004

Running Mantra

Kathy Mattea has a song where she sings about “18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses”. It’s a catchy tune. Two weeks ago I sang the chorus over and over while running. The words became 18 Miles and a Dozen blisters. It’s amazing how a simple mantra can get you through 4 hours of running.

This week I had a 20-miler and no mantra. I couldn’t come up with any songs about the number 20. I ended up just trying real hard to just go brain-dead. It worked just as well as a little singing/chanting. Much like life, I can use mindless mantra or join the brain-dead to get through the day.

Anyway, I am starting a 3-week taper in preparation for the Marine Corps Marathon on October 31st. That means my “long run” this week is only 12 miles. I’m open for suggestions about any “12” songs that I can butcher the lyrics to and get through about 2.5 hours of running. Thanks.

Sunday, October 10, 2004

San Francisco

I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for San Francisco. Claimed it was my favorite city in the world. It was the location of my first run at being an adult. I was 20 and had just joined the army. I was stationed there to learn Russian and prepare to defend the free world from the Russian hordes. (I never thought I would be nostalgic for the Cold War, but damn it seemed a lot simpler than today’s world. But that is another topic) Anyway, San Francisco was the canvas where I asserted my independence.

I learned to become a runner by running across the Golden Gate Bridge and enjoying the afternoon view. It brought a sense of freedom. I saw some cultural values that I could never experience in Cheyenne, WY. I was taught that being gay was acceptable, but it was still a culture shock to see it in the open. I drank in bars legally. I learned to use a mass transit system. I fell in love. I got married. I discussed having children. It was an exciting, heady time.

This week, I went back for a conference. What a great opportunity to take a peak at the shadow of my youth. It had been more than 16 years since I had been back. During those 16 years, life had given me some highs and lows. Everyone gets a healthy dose. It just feels like I have received more than my share of both over the past 16 years.

I still know how to use mass transit, but the cable cars hold as much excitement as my 7 year old car at home. The strip bars that cried out with temptation, now just seem seedy. Elbow to elbow with people used to be exciting. Now it is just tiring. I went running and it only reinforced how much weight I’ve gained and how slow I’ve become. Sure, I ran 10 miles, but I still feel weighed down by chains. I went to the army building (a former hospital) where I lived on the Presidio. The Presidio is now a National Recreation Area and the building is now abandoned. Windows were smashed out, and there was graffiti everywhere. It looked like there were workers trying to restore it. I hope so. And lastly, even the Golden Gate Bridge was enshrouded in fog.

There is a scene in “A League of Their Own” where Tom Hanks’ character is on the bus talking about why he wasn’t in the army. He talked about his lack of cartlidge, etc. And then line I didn’t understand 10 years ago. “How did I get so useless, so fast?” Now, I understand. I thought I was saying goodbye to San Francisco. Turned out I was saying goodbye to my youth.