On The Run - 1/28/09

3.38 mi / 40:14 min / 11:54 mpm

Broke the 12 minute mile marker!

So let's see, we have had "Up with the sun", "Up with the bakers", "Up with the concrete guys" and "Up with the college kids" . . . . add to that, "Up with the fish mongers"!

This fish processing center sits at the North end of Seaport Village on the bay. The ocean is about 50 feet behind me in this photo and boats can dock right there and unload their catch for processing. These guys work in a refrigerated room and are there every morning.

To be more accurate, I think the term "fish monger" refers to the person who sells the fish - which means I was was up with the "fish processors" which really doesn't have the same ring to it.

I am pretty sure I have seen the fish monger though. He sits in an adjacent room. One of those construction offices - you know, the kind of office you find on a work site. An office that is a means to an end - littered with the materials of people who actually MAKE STUFF as opposed to an office such as mine, which is an end in itself. The office is the stuff . . .

I have seen this guy through the window a few times. In his late thirties or so, he looks like he could have been a football player in his prime. Usually bundled up in parka in the pre-dawn darkness, hunched over his glowing computer monitor, sucking down coffee out of a travel mug as if it was the very air he breathes. Meanwhile, the ESL folks (English as a second language) are in the fridge with razor-sharp knives.

I can picture it now, him muttering to himself that if only his father hadn't started this whole fish-place . . . *sluuurp* . . . . if only he didn't have to give up afternoons and weekends throughout high school and college to help out at the shop . . . *sluuurrrrp* . . . he could have gone all the way baby . . . the pros . . . . *sluurrrrrp* . . .

Of course, if his father didn't start that whole fish-place in the first place, it could be him in the fridge, filleting salmon . . . .

But we don't think in terms of what hardships we have avoided - we focus on what we may have lost . . . and anyways, a shrug and an "it could be worse . . ." is not really the stuff of our dreams . . . .

But of course, I have only glimpsed the guy twice for a total of 10 seconds so what do I know? . . . .

But that's not what I wanted to write about . . .

Thank you Thank you to those who have commented and e-mailed in suggestions regarding knee pain and avoiding injuries.

I think I am going to follow my wife's advice and pick up insoles for my office shoes. Fortunately, the boss-man has declared the remainder of the week "casual".

Why is it that "casual day" sounds like "Rex Manning Day" to me?

From Empire Records:



Maybe because they are both special occasions that reek with a certain pathetic desperation . . . . whoopie. rex manning day.

But seriously, I love casual days.

Aaaaaanywaaaayyy . . . I am wearing cushy shoes for the rest of the week so I have a few days before I have to hunt down the inserts.

I am also going to take reader Gillian's advice and get a foam roller for my knees. I have had these suggested to me more than once and Gillian's recommendation is the one pushing me over the edge. $13 to avoid an injury sounds like a pretty good investment to me . . .

My long-lost friend Toby suggested that I have my gait analyzed to make sure I have the proper shoes - which sounds like a good idea . . . the next time I buy shoes. These only have about 100 miles on them so I probably have a while to go for that one.

Toby also suggested that I get regular massages . . . which . . . sounds great but . . . I don't see myself bounding in the door at 6am, back from a run, and asking the wife, "Hon, when you're done nursing and before you get in the shower, would you give me a rub-down?? What? I should stick what? where? Honey! Not in front of the baby!"

To be fair, my friend actually suggested that I massage myself which just doesn't work for me . . . it's like commenting on your own blog . . . or voting for yourself for prom king (not that I ever did that, mind you . .) . . . it just doesn't feel right . . .

The recent Phidippidations podcast was all about running injuries and he suggested going online and hunting down IT band stretches - which also sounds like a good idea.

But back to why my wife won't massage my tired legs . . . . What I was ruminating on this morning is the shop-worn question of "Is running an inherently selfish pursuit?" Think about it - you take time out of your day, away from family and friends (usually) . . . to pursue something that makes you and you alone happy.

Think about what you could get accomplished in that 1 1/2 hours spent driving to, working out at, and driving home from, the gym. Think of the hours, days and weeks, spent pounding the pavement with little more than nothing to show for it.

Think of all the things that you put on hold - that you push to the side - that you kick to the next calendar day just so that you can get your scheduled work-out in . . . .

I think a surfer in Step Into Liquid said it best. He said something to the effect of . . . Sure, when you are out there surfing, you aren't producing anything, you aren't contributing to the community, you aren't being productive in the regular sense of the world. . . .

But if by surfing, I am a calmer person, a happier person, a healthier person . . . if because of my surfing I interact with others later in the day in a more civilized manner . . . then maybe I am doing something productive . . . maybe, by surfing, I am making the world a better place . . . .

I am coming to realize that in this inter-connected world that we live in, the pace of life is actually outpacing life itself. The phone calls, the e-mails, the 2-dozen frequent shopper cards that are causing your wallet to burst at the seems. There's piano practice and soccer practice and yoga and pilates and "spinning" and biking and swimming and running and shopping and errands and . . .*WHEW*!

I think more than any generation, ours is the one that has to delineate the good from the best. We just have to learn the simple two-letter word "no".

My family deserves my best. My "girls" deserve to have a father and a husband who is present and with them. But the paradox is, I cannot be wholly "present" unless I break away to work, pay bills, run errands and yes, run. Exercise is one of those things that we all just need. You need to move your muscles and bones and feel the wind in your face. In a strange sort of way, not exercising is a disservice to my family. Whatever my failings are now, I believe they would all be worse without a little sweat-session every other day. I owe it to my family to take care of myself.

Of course there are limits that any reasonable person can figure out for themselves . . . For me, it is every other day. Never more than an hour run on the weekdays (all subject to revision of course).

Which brings me to what I really wanted to talk about this morning . . .

I started this most recent running routine (I actually prefer the term "running joke") this past December 2nd and I have not missed a scheduled day sense I started.

Of all the exercise attempts in my life, this may be the longest running (no pun intended) streak so far. I have run with colds and sore throats and a runny nose, in rain, in snow, over ice in sub-freezing temperatures, on my vacation and even on the day my little girl had brain surgery.

What I have discovered, much to my surprise, is that the consistency has imbued the effort with a deeper meaning - each run seems to have greater impact.

What makes today's run special is not today's run - it is the fact that today's run is part of a chain that includes last Thursday, and Christmas day, and all the days that presented obstacles and challenges.

I feel like if I miss a day because "I don't feel like it", little Annie-lu-who will pipe up and exclaim, "Let me get this straight; I HAD BRAIN SURGERY AND YOU WENT RUNNING BUT TODAY YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE IT????!!"

Each run is like a strand woven into an ever-stronger cable that seems to provide more and more stability, enjoyment and return on investment.

It's the consistency that is the thing.

One last word . . .

There is a lady who sits on the rocks at Ocean Beach every day at sunrise. I have never been there for an early morning go-out when she wasn't there. Sitting on the rocks, or her exercise ball, staring Westward across the sea. every. single. day.

I heard a rumor that her son drowned and that she sits there praying for the surfers . . . a story which seems a little far fetched to me . . .

The thing is, I have often wondered, "How does she do it? Every. Single. Day . . ."

Maybe I am beginning to understand . . . .

Oh, and this morning's run went great BTW . . . longest segment without walking was 20 minutes and the knees felt great!