Bullshit

Through the art of sophisticated animation-and Microsoft Paint-we are able to observe an accurate topographical representation of Trevor's "mostly flat" course

Hymn for the Exiled

Part 1: The Way We Were

As you know, I was home for Thanksgiving, and during this time I had the absolute pleasure of seeing 2 of my best friends and to do the simple activity which brought us together in the first place. I didn't know how long we were going to run, what the course was like or really how I would fare, as my ankle was still recovering from my marathon. It turned out though, to be one of the funnest runs I've been on. First: new blood. Tom: you're a cool dude, keep it up.
The mud and rain was almost exilharating, and the hills certainly added a bit of flavor to the run. And for whatever reason, I really enjoyed the ride up and back. Maybe it was the music, or the heated seats, or the lively conversation. Anthony, thank you so much for picking me up. I can't wait to get home to run with you all again.

Part 2: The Good Left Undone

I also had the chance on my short break to see some ladies socially. I had been dying to see Cassie since I was last home, but 9 months is a long time and things change. I suppose my hopes were too high to start with, maybe it was another case of hope clouding perception, and things not being how you imagined. There was no joy in Mudville that night.

However, I had been talking to a high school friend -Erin- off and on since my marathon. She wanted to get a drink if I had time when I was home and I was more than happy to oblige. I first met her sophomore year, and I was as in love as a high schooler can be with a girl who doesn't know he exists. I got over it, but she was always kind of my dream girl. So, for the last 8 years I continued with life, and she was always on the fringes of my mind. So imagine my surprise when she asks me to hang out. We got a drink at a very expensive restaurant in North Andover(the beer was at the end of the food menu, the wine had a menu unto itself.) and we were going to go bowling(on a whim) but the alleys were closing, so she suggested we watch a movie at her place. Fast forward through 12 magic hats, a decent Will Ferrell movie, and the first half of "The Notebook" and we're not even watching the TV anymore. I slept there that night(nothing happened) and came back the next day.
I felt a little guilty that I didn't spend my last night with my family, but they just kind of hang around and it's awkward. They want to be around me, but have nothing specific to do and it makes me uncomfortable. So I went back to Erin's. We had a bottle of wine (or 2) watched some movies, and then I serenaded her. No joke, Eagle Eye Cherry's "Save Tonight" was the perfect choice. And I slept there that night as well(lots more happened that night)
This short account is not to pat myself on the back, ask for kudos or add notches to my belt. Its to say that yes, good things really do come to those who wait.
It reminds me (though vaguely) of the Oresteia, or the tragedy of Orestes.
Orestes was the son of King Agammemnon, and was faced with the terrible task of revenging his father's murder by killing the murderer: his own mother. Orestes was far from his country, and did not jump hastily into his task. He debated his actions. How can one kill his mother to revenge his father? But ultimately revenge is the law of the gods, and after 12 years of waiting, Orestes killed Clytemnestra his mother, and her new husband. In a similar way, I waited 8 years for this girl, and when it seemed farthest from thought, the good came forth.

Cool Running

Not much new here. It's beginning to get cold, like winter. Unfortunately it seems we have skipped Autumn alltogether, which is a shame becuause it's my favorite season. I have a peanut jar holding change I've collected over the last 6 months with "Petty's as yet unnamed running fund" written on it. I think I'll use the money to buy some gloves. I'm starting marathon training today(again) for Pheonix. Hopefully the extra month to train won't be negated by my lethargy toward running in cold weather.

Once More Unto the Breach

The Outer Banks Marathon was the best and worst marathon I have ever run.

To start, my stomach was jacked up. The beers from the night before weren't really agreeing with me, and a stop at the starting line port-o-potties didn't help much. I got to the 7:01-9:00 corral about 2 minutes before the race started, and when the gun went off I cruised out at what seemed like my normal 7:30ish pace. I felt light, comfortable and not too overly excited. I kept telling myself to relax, not to go out too strong and burn out. At mile 1 my time was 7:02, so I slowed down(or I thought I did) and by 2 I was at 14:00. 3 21:05. 4 28:04. I was running ahead of schedule, but I felt so good I just kept moving. At mile 8 we passed the Wright Brother's Memorial (pics on facebook) and at 10 we went into the woods. The flat dirt road and complete lack of houses reminded me of the Vermont 50K. It was hard to believe there was any place so remote on such a small island. In the woods I could have made a pit stop anywhere. My stomach was still aggravated from the night before, but I was making such good time I didn't want to stop. So I kept running. We came out of the woods at the half way point and I slurped down a 'carb-boom,' my first of many. My stomach pain was becoming unbearable, and I still had not seen any port-o-potties. At mile 15 I hopped a fence into a construction site and used theirs. I didn't see one specifically for the race until mile 16, which I think is a bit absurd. I was starting to slow down by this point, but still making good time. My ultimate time was slowly creeping up from 3:05, but I still held hopes of running 3:10 or less. I never walked because I was tired. I would walk during water stops, but never more than 50 feet. I always kept moving. At 20 I hit the wall, said "fuck you wall" and launched myself over it. 22 had the bridge connecting the 2 islands. You could see the bridge a long time before you got there and it was fairly daunting to think of its incline. Just before I started on the bridge a cop said "get ready for one hell of a hill" and in my usual, eloquent English I responded "fuck hills." And I kept running. I actually passed several people going up, but a bit of weaving was required as there were walkers all over. .75 to 1 mile before the finish I started to get pumped. I picked up my feet, fixed my stride and started to actually cruise again. But my left hamstring was so tight it felt like it would seize up and completely immobilize me, so I slowed down again. You rounded a corner and the finish was 100 yards ahead, so I picked it up again. I still felt very fresh, even if I didn't look it, but if anyone was going to see me, or take pictures, I wanted to look like I just had afternoon tea. I passed the line at 3:21:30-11:30 slower than my ultimate goal, but a ludicrous 19 minutes faster than my Hyannis PR of 3:40:49.
Why is it ludicrous you ask? Let's consider the last year. Boot Camp: I never ran more than 3 miles. MCT: no more than 2 miles. Florida: a couple long runs, lots of speedwork on the PFT's but ultimately no real training. Also, the amount of alcohol I drank in Florida was enough to keep a small brewery running on my business alone. So I got to OBX without having run a marathon in over a year, with only 5 weeks of serious training under my belt. I can only attribute my success to all the PFTs. Sure, they're only 3 miles, but every one is a tempo run. Also, I think I am mentally stronger. I absolutely will not stop under any circumstance. Ever.

But it was the worst marathon I have ever run because I ran it absolutely alone. No Trev, Alow, Nate, Billy, Jonesy or anyone.

Smacking you in the face with my glove

I propose a new contest:

He who dies with the most T-Shirts, wins

free t shirts from athletic events, of course. I had this idea when I went to the pool to soak my legs because of running, a nice, easy, 20 minute cool down. But the girl working there says I get a free t shirt if I swim 233 laps, in honor of the Marine Corps' 233 birthday. I'm a sucker for t shirts, girls, and absurd and impromptu athletic challenges, so I signed up and set a modest goal of 50 laps for the day. This was a mere 5 times the most laps I had done since...senior year of high school. But who cares, I did it in just over an hour(This, after running 10 miles an hour earlier, and then playing 1 hour of intense basketball, at which I dominated(gangly arms are a plus)) Since then I've done 100 more, I plan to finish tomorrow and get my t shirt, and then sport it all over base.

So do everything and everything to get t shirts, medals of course have the 'bling' factor, but I don't like to do laundry so many shirts comes in handy.

Moto Run

With the marathon 3 weeks out, it was time to pull in some serious miles. I skipped my long run on sunday, because A) I went to mass (with a chick, no less) and B) we had PT that day. I have run before PT a few times now, 4 or 5 miles and it actually makes me better at basketball and soccer which were the PT for those days. But Sunday's run was, naturally, long. The longest in fact-20 miles. And there was no way I was even going to be able to stand up for PT after a run like that. So I put it off for today (Monday) I woke up early, ate a bagel with peanut butter, and headed out. The longest course I have here is 8 miles, so the plan was to run this course twice, and then half of it once. It's a very nice course, a paved path, flat grass on the side if that's your pleasure, and water fountains every 3/4 of a mile or so. So I went out, had my goo around mile 6, turned around and did it all again, more goo around 12, turned around a third time (by now the landscaping crew recognized me fairly well) and when i headed for home with just 2.5 miles left, I began to feel...odd. I would feel lightheaded, but with a headache, and violently physically ill, all at once, in the snap of your fingers. It was brief, but so intense I thought I would hurl in front of the roving pack of weed-whackers, or simply pass out next to the path. My head felt fresh, my eyes and mind were alert, my form perfect. I kept a steady 7:20-7:40 pace the entire time, despite hip pain, but I could feel that the disparity between my outward appearance and my inner workings was growing at an alrming rate. I practically staggered in to my room, somehow I had managed to make it up 3 flights of stairs. I fell into my chair and was too overcome with exhaustion to eat the hamburgers I had prepared for just such an occasion. after 30 minutes in the chair, not moving, I got up, showered and went to chow.

Some of you reading this may think I'm a little sissy, 20 miles is practically nothing after all. Consider though, that I have been training seriously for only about 3 weeks, and, not one to do things in half measures, I jumped right into the schedule as if I had been running steadily for months. I upped my mileage by 6 miles from last week, 3 times what is recommended on a week to week basis. Quite simply, I had overstepped my bounds, and my body hated me for it. I'm either to stubborn or too stupid to ever quit anything I do, so I just kept plugging away. The odd thing is, now that I have sufficiently stuffed my face with swiss steak, mashed potatoes, and 3 helpings of italian pasta and veggies, I feel...fine. My leg hurts, but I'm not limping, I'm tired but no more so than after a 5 miler. All this leads me to the quite natural and frankly obvious assumption that I AM THE GREATEST HUMAN BEING ALIVE. Of course, this statement is entirely false, but if my mouth keeps saying it maybe one day my body will believe it.

The 20 mile run has always been a morale booster. I have told myself 5 times now that if I can run 20, what's another (paltry) 6.2? I even told myself once that if I can run 20, whats another 11 (turns out another 11 is a big deal) But we runners have an odd way of rationalizing things, especially during a long run when your brain doesn't work well enough to realize that 2+2 is NOT 22.

Pain is an affirmation of life.

Pointless Poll

I realized the other day how much music affects my running. The chill, more relaxing, thoughful songs that drive me at night only bring me down when I run during the day. So I throw on Flogging Molly, Yellowcard and Rise Against, and suddenly I run with perfect form, I feel immensely happy, and every run becomes an impromptu tempo run. So, what are everyone's favorite running songs/genres?

Pain in the ass

I have confirmation of my suspicions. I have thought for a few weeks now that I have an aggravated piriformis muscle. My suspicions arose when I logged onto runnersworld.com and looked through their injury prevention page. The piriformis stuff was usually titled "pain in the butt" so that was a bit of a giveaway. I've been struggling through it for about 3 weeks now. I started in pensacola, but was bareable, I thought it was from constantly running on hard surfaces. It got to the point however, where I couldn't bend at the waist, because the pain spread to my back. I stopped running, I biked and used the elliptical, but this only made it worse. I was waking up in pain, and got so pissed off that I went through the internet looking for solutions. They all said stop running.
I wasn't going to stop running.
If necessary, I could make city of oaks a "exercise in pain management" as ALow once put it. I can deal with that kind of pain, I don't want to...but I could if I had to. But aside from the same stretches I had been doing to no effect, one site said to ice it. DUH! how come I didn't think of that? So I walked (painfully) to the commissary about a mile away and bought some mixed veggies. I sat on them for 20 minutes of so and felt great afterwards. I can bend over to tie my boots! But this brings me to a subtopic:
We runners are a curious lot.
I'm sitting on bags of frozen vegetables. Lacking a foam roller, I used a broom stick to iron out my hamstrings. My roommates looked on with wonderment. They thought I had lost my mind. I do odd stretches at odd hours of the day(and night). But until they feel the pain that I do, the desire and drive that compels me to endure so that I can punish my body, they will fail to understand my love affair and ever increasing mastery of bipedal motion.

This is my first post from Cherry point, NC.
I checked in last night around 11:30. I hadn't eaten in 13 hours, slept in 20, and the gas that builds up inside me on plane flights, the most inopportune time to rip one, inexplicably would not go away. I was going to deal with the hunger and just rack out, but coming back from the empy vending machine the cute latino chick asked if I wanted to go to mcdonalds. It was past hours, we were basically sneaking out. something about it was rather exciting. Maybe that I was in a new state, time zone, base and room, just met this girl, and was sneaking out for...bigmacks and fries. Anyway she showed me around base for a bit and told me where the good things were. The point I'm getting at is that the base has hiking and camping trails, a pistol/rifle range, and an olympic size swimming pool(this being the relevant part) the pool provides the perfect cross training/recovery tool ever available to me. so I will be swimming laps like the old days 2 or 3 times a week hopefully. It may be the solution to many of my problems. HOORAY AQUA JOGGING!
ran 5 miles, felt bad, but the new base, cooler air and setting sun made it worthwhile.

Closing Time

This is the last post from Pensacola, FL. In roughly 5 hours I will break the surly bonds of gravity and take wing toward yet another temporary home. My tenure here has been a mix of emotions; happiness, sadness, absolute rage and everything in between. Some of it was magic, some of it was tragic, but I had a good time all the way. My running here has been anything but consistent, I didn't train for or run any marathons, much to my dismay. The best I could accomplish was to run to Alabama, which in my defense still wins me accolades from new Marines I have never met. I also have proven myself, time and again, to be the fastest man in AMS-1(roughly 800 Marines) and likely the fastest on base. Regardless, I did not run consistently, which has caused some minor injuries(for lack of a better word) I feel that I have only maintained my ability, barely. And I wanted to be a much stronger runner by this point. With 6 months and only a handful of good runs behind me, I have to wonder what I did wrong, what I did right, and how to better myself next time. I suppose the double edged sword that is the Marine Corps manifests itself in this instance as a fresh start everytime I go somewhere new. I won't lie, I'm nervous. It's like the first day of high school everytime. But Now I have a marathon lined up, I have better expectations for the weather, I have higher expectations for myself, and ultimately that is what drives me. Here's to beginnings...


"For what it's worth, it was worth all the while."

I gave in. I gave up, I gave out.

To a degree anyway. My running was stagnating, I began to hate running here, it's just too damn hot. I began to dread running, then I began to stop running. I even had that feeling of "ugh, not again" on monday mornings when i had to run that same 3 mile track to defend my PFT title. I've been running that course every monday for 6 months, not including the times I ran it on my own randomly. I figure I ran that track about 40 times. I needed something new. So I switched to the treadmill. At first I felt somewhat ashamed, I hate the mill. Why stare at a TV when the world is right outside waiting to be discovered? why? Maybe because the asphalt is hot enough to melt my soles.

I've had 3 good runs on it though. I have to set the incline at at a few degrees, and my hand punches the stop button frequently, but I managed some good miles, more than if I'd gone outside probably.

Compromise is the name of the game I guess.

Pain

I am currently suffering from a condition I long knew about, but never really gave much thought to.
Coach told us from the start that runners often succumb to the glitz, excitement and free goodies of the marathon expos to the point where they spend several hours on their feet, on hard concrete and end up having tired, sore legs for the race the next day. I listened to what he said because he had run marathons before and I hadn't, I deferred to his expert opinion and never really gave it a second thought. I never spent more than an hour at the expos. Get in, get out, get on with life. I knew what it would do to me, but I didn't understand what it would do.
Now I understand.
Last weekend I had duty section. I can't leave base, wear civilian clothes or drink(though I did so a bit of the latter) Duty section involves, primarily, standing in formation, on concrete, for at least an hour, followed by walking up and down the halls making sure everyone is working for no less than 30 minutes. We have 2 of these formations per day. (3 hours on my feet, not counting walking to the chow hall, the NEX, portside or standing around at the gym) On sunday after our first formation I went for a run, 12 miles. I try to run on grass whenever possible, but it's pretty difficult. That evenings formation was different. After the 1:30 of bullshit, we formed up again. The SDO didn't like the cleaning job we did. So we did it again. (45 minutes) then we formed up again. (30 minutes) then he released us. We thought we were done for the night. The we heard we had to form up again, apparently the Marines who cleaned the smoke pit were smoking while doing it. The SDO caught wind and got pissed off. So we formed up a third time, but since it was random and not everyone got the message guess who had to run around the barracks looking for people. Also, since we all just switched rooms, nobody knew where anybody was, so I ended up walking up and down the same halls 3 or 4 times. (1 hour later) everyone is outside, the SDO decideds to be the Drill Instructor he used to be, and we commence 'fuck fuck' games, a meaningless waste of time made to make us feel stupid.(1 hour) We form up again, he talks for 30 minutes. Then 3 Marines are found in civvies, coming from the mall, Marines in our duty section. So we get another lecture(30 minutes) and play more fuck fuck games (1 hour) By now it's around 2400, we all missed room checks, we've been standing for several hours, everyone is pissed off at the 3 Marines, and we all just want to hit the rack. Finally he lets us go. Monday morning PT is cancelled, Wednesday we have a PFT-I handily defeat all comers-Friday is a 5 mile run with the Navy. 5 miles is nothing, I shit 5 miles. But running with the navy means a very slow run, a jog really, I can walk this fast. So 5 miles which could have been done in 30 minutes gets dragged out to 50 minutes.
The point is, after the duty section fiasco, my legs hurt. My arches, my knees, everything. It hurts to stand. No joke. I am in pain. I'm still running and doing all right, but when I'm just walking or standing it hurts, my feet are constantly shifting, looking for those 30 mseconds of comfort before they shuffle again.
So take it from me, dont stand more than you have to, especially on hard surfaces. I put in the pain and frustration so you don't have to.

It was the best of times...

It was the worst of times.

The First Sergeant gave us overnight liberty Friday night, an unexpected and joyous occasion, since usually we have to be back on base by midnight. This is usually a recipe for disaster, and it certainly went against the better judgement of most of the staff, but the new First Sergeant is the shit, and he's the FIRST SERGEANT. duh.

We checked out around 1400 and went to the beach, got a hotle room and proceeded to drink on the beach. I rescued a sea bird that was tangled up in fishing line. The guy who actually tangled the bird in the line came to me and said "yeah I accidentally got the bird tangled up when I was fishing, the thing must be tired, that was about an hour ago." AN HOUR AGO? And he just left it there to die. asshole.

Tafoya got sick, drank too much too quickly, so i took him to the hotel to get cleaned up. The sun was going down, and thats when the fun begins. I'm not entirely sure where we went that night, we were at hooters at some point because I remember covering Dean's bill, his card got declined because junior Marines (Dean especially) have no financial responsibility. Tafoya was lying around at the end of the boardwalk and I was there making sure he was ok, when these 2...ahem females walk right up and the slightly less ugly one starts talking to us, clearly shes looking for a good time. I went and talked to trev on the phone and she worked her 'magic' on Tafoya. Now, Trev advised me to enjoy myself if you know what I mean, I won't say i was entirely against it, but after I hung up the phone I engaged my remarkable ability to step back and look at my situation objectively, and when I did so I realized this girl was shamu in a human suit, her friend, moby dick. So I basically, actually literally, told her to fuck off, Which she did. Thank God.

It was around 0130 when I went back to the hotel, I'd had enough craziness for one night. I put on the Olympics and passed out.

Only to be awoken roughly one hour later by very loud very drunk Marines who brought the party back to my hotel.
Mental note: do not give room keys to anybody but myself.
I was half asleep, but from what I heard, PFC Wolchock got arrested. I didn't know why, or how, but he was fucked. I asked a few questions and learned that A) his libbo buddies were nowhere to be found. B) Nobody called his mentor(the first thing to do) C) A guy in his class did not have his mentor's number and was seemingly uncaring about a friend/libbo buddy who had just been arrested. To sum up: I, though drunk, half asleep, and not in a position to get screwed over, since Wolchock was not my buddy, was the only person who cared or decided to call the SDO of H barracks. Basically I was the only responsible one there(as usual) So I called, the situation was explained, they took care of it. Thanks to Wolchock and 5 other idiot Marines who also got arrested that night, we will probably not have any libbo next weekend.

At this point of the story you may be wondering where I'm going with this. It is a running blog after all, where's the running? I'm trying to give the circumstances for one of the better runs of the last 9 months, a time all too often devoid of good runs, or any runs at all for that matter. My running lately is not so much to stay in shape, or to run well on my PFTs, though the "scars and stories" I get from it is rather satisfying, I won't lie. It's a stress reliever.

It was 0300, the party was winding down when I laced up my shoes and headed out the door.
The roads were quiet.
The air was cool.
A slight breeze came off the Gulf.
The crickets in the dunes were louder than my ipod.
A lightning storm miles out on the sea flashed like a strobe.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe..."

I took a hot shower when I got back to the room, threw a pillow on the floor and nodded off to sleep as my alarm was chirping 0400-time to get up for PT.

Book II

I slept until 9, on the damp floor and the smell of booze pervading the rented air. Tafoya and I walked a mile or so to 'the Native Cafe' a delightful mom and pop cafe with local art and license plates on the walls, not to mention the fine waitress who couldnt remember my pancakes, or whether we asked for raspberry or blueberry jelly. I still recommend the place(if you're ever in Pensacola)

We checked out of the hotel and the guys went to get beer. I pulled up under a small grove of palm trees and cracked a book. The sun, the palms, the water. It was idyllic, something straight out of a post card.

We called some random guys with guitars over, and sat and sang and drank, it was like the old days with Tables up, except these guys didn't know any good songs. I don't know what time it was, but a bachelorette party found us, and the fun once again resumed. The band at Flounders a few hours later was decent, they knew how to work the crowd. I made out with the 26 year old married girl who was running the bachelorette party-in the female bathroom of Flounders no less, until we got kicked out. What can I say, I'm an animal. Then Rigsby decided to go back to base without telling anyone, we got back late but the sergeant didn't give a fuck so we didn't complain and went back to our rooms.

That was about it. the party lasted about 34 hours, ranged over a few square miles, involved a dozen Marines, a half dozen random girls, plenty of alcohol, and 4 or 5 different bands. emails and myspaces were passed around, money was spent, and a good time was had by all.

I did some good things, I did some bad things. The duality of man cannot be denied, for as much as my mind is developed, as much self control as I may have, I am still an animal, a hot blooded American male.

Struggle

I was starting to get disgusted with myself so I threw on my camelbak and ran. just ran. Went down the jungle path, through the golf course, under the bridge onto base, and to the trails with the bridge to nowhere. Mostly places nobody sees. I also had the distinction of being the only person in America who had the Blue Angels scream over my head at several hundred miles an hour, at only a few hundred feet. IT'S VERY LOUD. I would have kept on running indefinitely, but I thought I had formation at 1745 and I cut it short (1 hour) Turns out I didn't have formation, we can only imagine how far i might have run. Anyway, it was a good run, i felt good. Probably because today was wet, if not rainy, not hot and muggy as usual.

Don't make me mad

Bruce Banner says not to make him mad, you wouldn't like him mad. I don't think people necessarily like me when I'm mad, I'm probably as unpleasant as any angry person, but they do like the end result of my limited insanity. I was at the beach yesterday and a marine said i was ripped(I don't think thats an appropriate term, but you know what he means ) and another random guy asked how he can get swelled like me. I told him to work out everyday. And The girl selling drinks at the makeshift bar was into me...and so was the girl I got to know under the boardwalk. But this isn't about inflating my ego, its about how hard work has results-noticeable results. I was mad as hell and vented in the gym and on the pavement. All my hard work reaped dividends in the form of low body fat and larger defined muscles. Unfortunately I think, it is all due to my temper. I definitely lean toward the dark side, it makes me stronger and helps me focus, but I am afraid I will not always be able to keep it in check. Will I go the way of Anakin Skywalker, or control myself but lack emotion, strength, passion?

"Our greatest fear is not that we are weak, it is that we are powerful beyond measure."

This is Weak

I saw this on the news this morning whilst sipping my coffee:

http://www.theolympian.com/golf/story/516457.html

"We planned so well, we really didn't have any major surprises," said Evans. "Luckily, we had great weather."
Yeah, sounds great. No surprises, Great weather. It reminds me of a guy called the Ultramarathon Man, Dean Karnazes, who did a similar stunt a while ago, except he ran 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. That's 1310 miles in a little over a month and a half. Add to that "long bus rides, logistical issues, blogging everyday." The only difference between the two trips is that one HAD BALLS. Big balls that ran ungodly miles for a ridiculous amount of time. It must have been so stressful, playing 18 holes everyday, in sunny weather, with nothing to worry about except; "should I use a 9 iron, or an 8?" DEAR GOD...THE CHOICES!!! Don't even worry about stress fractures, muscle cramps and tears, overuse injury, patella famoral syndrome, hydration, electrolyte replacement, plantar fasciitis, achilles tendonitis, clean clothes, good shoes, maps, food, and SANITY. Oooh, he made a birdie. Who gives a crap.

http://www.ultramarathonman.com/flash/

That's the website to a real man, take notes.

Update

This is redundant. I already posted it on TNWC on LiveJournal, and therefore it has or will appear on Facebook. BUT in keeping with the athletic/running nature of this blog, I'll say it again.
My first PFT this morning went well, despite being drunk all yesterday afternoon, walking (barefoot) up and down the boardwalk 20 times hitting on every female that crosses my path, not running more than 15 miles last week, and only going to the gym maybe twice. I hadn't done a pull up all of last week, I did my ab workout maybe once, and my running was mainly sprinting through the woods slaughtering the opposition with copious barrages of paintballs. That said, it went well.

Pull-ups: 16(I did 17 2 weeks ago)
Sit-ups: 100(without stopping)
3 Mile Run: 17:45 (my best time in 2-2.5 months)

I'm pretty much a PT stud. And a paintball god.

Old Acquaintances, New Friends

I just got in from a boots and yoots run with my neighbor Sandoval. (boots and yuts is boots and utility trousers, but no blouse.) We ran about 3 miles in the heat; a slow, intermittant run. But it wasn't the run that was worthwhile, it was getting to better know someone I had met about 2 months earlier and had hung out with once or twice in casual situations. The interesting thing was that he seems to be not simply the kind of person who wants to lose weight, or do better on his PFT. he seemed to have an actual interest in running, why I run, and how he can be better. I talked about many different theories and practices of my craft, reveling silently in the joy of spreading the faith to a prospective member. As always, I ran my mouth; expounded on a few of my own personal philosophies on life, hard earned credos that are slowly becoming time-tested.

It was getting to know someone while running that was worthwhile. The simple act of moving one foot in front of the other somehow strips you of all pretense and expectation, down to a simple person, not a Marine, Californian or New Englander.

This is why I run

Go Nuts

When I first came to Pensacola I was really very excited, I was going to start running again, get in shape after a 4 month recess, find some local marathons in a part of the country I had only once before visited, soak in the sun and enjoy life in the Corps. But as we say, I got "f*^ked by the big green weenie." I'm not entirely sure what it was, but my running wasn't nearly what it should have been. First, Barracks support was depressing and unmotivating. It did not require any skill or energy and left me feeling tired. The heat is another factor, well, not the heat so much as the humidity. I sweat like a mofo here, maybe I should never have left new England. Third, and this is a slightly less prominent factor, I had a girlfriend. Running was a stress releiver, and I didn't have much stress when I was with her. I had a few good runs here and there, 11 mile was my max though, and I never broke 17 or 18 miles a week (pitiful.) But then the most peculiar of life's quirks struck me. I got dumped. And the peculiarity of becoming stronger from something weakening began. For as great as I apparently was, I was still just not good enough. Needless to say I felt like crap. I talked to Trev and he said I needed to start running again, to "go nuts" it took a day or two, but I realized that he was right. I needed to throw myself body and mind into my running. Back into the safety valve that had previously kept me sane, and was sure to do again by its very nature.

Driven once again by my anger, the one thing that continuously makes me stronger, I jumped right into week 7 of the intermediate II marathon program. 0-50 miles a week, just like that. I zoned out on every run, my mind aslumber yet moving at a blistering pace on that one, incomprehensible situation. I spent hours on runnersworld.com, studying injury prevention, strengthening techniques, and training regimines. Running became my all consuming focus, and continues to be so. Though the last few days have been hectic, which I will talk about in a later post, The desire to run, to escape this monotone life is still burning.

Running is the only thing in life I truly love, the only thing I know. It is honest, it is sincere, it is true.

In The Beginning...

This is hardly my first post, or blog as the case and terminology may be, I am a hardened veteran of online ramblings, mostly on Livejournal.com/users/spartanv3/ (shameless plug) but this is my first time on this particular blogging site. Trev said I should join and write about my runs, and since I pretty much do anything Trev says... It's not a bad idea though, a place for running talk, and a place for everything else that nobody reads.
Trev also mentioned that he had 'mad friends' add me as a friend and that I should start typing away. First off, Trev, if your friends are mad, like, crazy, stop associating with them. Second, I'm not going to type to appease the masses. The masses can go F$#@ themselves. I don't know who these 'mad friends' are, If I knew them he would write their names, so I have to assume they are people I do not know ERGO they may be hot girls. So this will from now on be geared to the hot girls who have a penchant for guys with a flair for the literarily (word?) dramatic. FORSOOTH! some running credentials:
Boston 2006
Disney 2007
Hyannis 2007 (PR 3:40:49)
Boston 2007
Vermont 50K
Manchester 2007

Planning: City of Oaks Marathon 2008

Also assorted mid length runs, and 5k's which I run every Monday.

That said Let me give you some random facts about myself. I am 23, a PFC in the USMC. I can drive anything from a motorcycle to a bus to a horse. I am qualified with many different weapons, knife to M-240Golf. Once, and oil drum fell on my head. I own stock in Vestas, a foreign company that makes windmills. I'm an unapologetic sci fi nerd and my favorite beer is Harpoon Munich Dark. This of course is random stuff that doesn't tell me much about you, except that I deem those things important enough to demonstrate a small part of my character. I am intrigued by people, who they are and why they do what they do. It's more complicated than this simple post. maybe I'll write about it someday. Until then...