Run, Fatboy, Run: A Fat Kid's Journey to Run the NYC Marathon, Get In Shape & Cure Cancer

Don't Call It a Comeback (No Seriously, Don't)

2011-06-24T08:39:00.001-04:00

Well, well, well. Here we again. For those of you who don't know - and considering that my following here is closer to my Christmas card list than world domination, I'm going to consider all of you do - the 2009 NYC Marathon didn't work out for me. I strained the ligaments between my ankle and my foot so severely that 10 days before the Marathon I was in an air cast, with the doctor telling me: "You could run... you just won't finish." But much like Alanis Morisette, I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away... actually, that doesn't really apply, but... I'm training for a race again! Which means, more Fat blogging! Cue my mom mass e-mailing her office!

While, the devastation of not being able to run the marathon sat-in - you know "Why me! Why!!!", yada, yada yada, I'm super proud to announce that my running buddy, Heathaaa, completed the NYC Marathon in 2009 and Jilly, who also herself training in 2009, completed the NYC Marathon in 2010, keeping the Ed's Team for Fred's team tradition alive in honor of Jilly's Dad / Heathaaa's Uncle, Ed Cook. (This year, Jilly's brother--in-law, Danny is taking up the charge - show him some love). Also, if you were wondering what a picture of a "good sport" looks like here you go (Me proudly cheering on Heathaaaa at 2009 NYC Marathon):

Oh and me? Well, I spiraled, gained the 30 pounds I lost training and vowed never to run again! It was all very dramatic and sad, in a very specific way. However, let's not dwell on the memories (and the donuts) of the past. Run, Fatboy, Run is about persevering (and snacking).

At my full-time job at the American Cancer Society, there is Team DetermiNation, which allows people to join up at run endurance events in support of ACS. My office at the Nassau Region has decided to start a team and run the Rock N Roll 10K in Brooklyn on October 22nd, 2011. We're running to honor all of the volunteers, cancer survivors and caregivers, who make our job worthwhile, every day.

I could think of no better reason or way to jump back into running than with this. Hell, 10K? 6.2 miles? I ran 20 miles once! (This attitude / mentality will ultimately be my undoing). So please, jump back on board with Run, Fatboy, Run as I blog my continued misadventures, running, training and trying to not be so adorably chubby.

And who knows, maybe Ed's Team for Fred's Team will have a new member for the NYC Marathon 2012. (But probably not...)

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Day 112: I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up

2009-10-12T00:11:00.001-04:00

After my failed attempt at an 18 mile run, I was extremely depressed, but also determined to make the most of the following day and try it again. It was crunch time, and this was what I predicted might happen. I would treat this whole "marathon training" thing like everything else in my life - a big joke. Well, that is, until it was time to take it seriously, at which point I would work my ass off to make up for lost time. This had worked on my biology regents exam in the 10th grade, so I saw no discernible reason why it shouldn't work in this situation.

I was sure that I would wake up in the morning and my allergies would have relinquished their death grip on me and this long run would finally be done and I'd be sure of my ability to run this marathon, save the princess from the clutches of King Koopa and remain in the running to be America's Next Top Model.

However, when I woke up my face still looked like Commish-era Michael Chiklis' and I was concerned. I laid in bed completely still for a moment or two, like when you wake up after a big night of drinking and convince yourself that you're not hungover until you actually move or blink. I really had myself going and then bam - sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.

I didn't care. I had to at least try this. I put on my running outfit and figured out a new route that didn't involve running through a field of pollen that even Dorothy and the gang from Oz would realize was a bad idea. It was a 5 mile loop by my parents house. All I had to do was get through it 4 times. I could do this.

Actually... I couldn't I got through it once, before I realized that I wasn't going to be able to run anything ever if I had pneumonia. I went back to my parents, again defeated, but this time realizing that I should probably go back to the doctor.

I called my general practitioner, who was closer in proximity to my parents house and my office, and made an appointment for that day. They actually didn't have any appointments, but I think the panic in my voice made them realize that this was a non-negotiable issue - I was either showing up at their office or at Dr. M's house.

I filled Dr. M - a very thorough, very good doctor - on the Strep that I was just over and the antibiotics that I was on. He had already known about my marathon training, so he understood the urgency without me bursting into the hysterical, panicky tears that I constantly felt infiltrating my thin veneer of cool. He took some blood, checked me for Strep and did a chest x-ray. For the most part the results were good: The Strep was gone, the chest x-ray was clear and I had no fever. But then he uttered the worst syllable I've ever heard in my life: "Hmmm..."

He took a look at my blood work, and noticed my White Blood Count was high - "through the roof" was the term he used. What did this mean? I hadn't been running with allergies after all - I had a sinus infection. His concern, and mine as well, was how I managed to get a sinus infection while on heavy duty antibiotics for Strep Throat. He used the words "interesting" and "fascinating" often, which didn't sit all that well with me.

Incidentally, this kind of turn in events, healthwise, is not that shocking - this is fairly typical of me. If you have the common cold, I catch it and turn it into some supervirus that only my body can incubate. It's just my way. I've just never done it with a marathon on the line.

Dr. M sidelined me from training for a few more days and put me on another round of antibiotics - but this time they were pretty serious. He warned me that I could only take the antibiotics at night and it had to be immediately before going to bed. I have to admit, I was a bit concerned. What were the side effects of this antibiotic? I envisioned myself sleepwalking while speaking in latin tongues and having sex terrors. I was resigned to fixing myself up in time to run the marathong, so whether these antibiotics were going to cause me to permanently smell french toast or brought into this country in the anal cavity of an illegal Mexican immigrant, I didn't care.

I left the doctor's office somewhat defeated, as you can imagine. I called Heathaaaa who had been constantly receiving the updates of my general health. At this point, we were really in this together. She did put some things into perspective for me, however. She said that she couldn't believe that I ran 10 miles with a sinus infection - and that a few months ago, the thought of being disappointed by running "only 10 miles" would've been ludicrous. It was a good point, and did soften the blow, but my mind was starting to go into overdrive. At this point, I couldn't quite imagine anything worse happening to me than not being able to run the marathon - I just hoped my determination was enough.

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Day 111: Running on Empty

2009-10-11T23:16:00.001-04:00

I've never gotten my ass kicked, but I'm pretty sure it would feel slightly like what that bout of Strep Throat did to me. It kept me down and more than out for over a week. I didn't go to work, I barely left the house, and my couch is now even more permanently indented with my ass imprint. It was a rough week, but by the end of the following week, and with a scant three (hyperventilation) weeks until the marathon, I knew that I had to get back out there.

It had been about a month since my last long run, and it was only 16 miles. The glow of that glory had faded, like a former prom queen after one too many drinks and one too many kids. I was starting to panic. I only realized now, in this moment (part of the problem?), how important these long runs were. Besides physically getting me ready for the marathon, they would get me mentally prepared with that kind of distance. I wasn't in the kind of shape where I could just assume that the adrenaline of marathon day would push me through all 26.2 miles - I needed to know that I could go further than 16 miles. And I preferred to do that before the marathon, not on a gurney at the marathon.

I figured I'd head down to ol' trusty - Eisenhower Park to do a minimum of 18 miles. It had to be done, and excuses weren't quite on the table anymore. I went to sleep with a plan for the morning to replicate my race day routine down to underwear and outfit.

I was finally feeling better when I went to sleep. It had seemed like such a long time of lounging around and feeling like garbage that I wasn't quite sure if I believed that I was on the mend. I had been fooled before. Just a few days earlier, it was my grandmother's birthday and on my way to my parents, I stopped at the Gap to pick something up. I was feeling good the entire way there, until I walked in the store and broke out into a cold sweat and had to sturdy myself on a T-Rack of henleys. I apprently, wasn't doing as well outside the confines of my living room as I thought.

But this was slightly different - I think mind was triumphing over matter, and when I went to sleep I knew I would wake up to birds chirping, rested limbs and a spring in my infected step. As usual, I was wrong.

I woke up early, but my face had exploded in my sleep. I couldn't believe it - my allergies were ripping through my body again. I was more angry then anything else. "How could this be happening?" I wondered through sneezes and wheezes. I didn't care though. I had to run.

Not one to think under pressure, I still packed myself up and headed to the park, not thinking that, perhaps a tree lined forest was the best place for someone going through a debilitating allergy attack. But run, I did. I sneezed and sneezed and sneezed to the point that even through my iPod, intense concentration and watery eyes, I could see people grossed out by me.

I made it through 10 miles in 2 hours and 11 minutes (about 13 minutes per mile). I couldn't go anymore, and even if I could, I realized that I shouldn't. My phone was dead, I was miles from home and my parents were away. If I had an asthma attack it would be a bad scene and I could already feel myself wheezing. I went to the car, and alternated feelings of wanting to cry and smash a window. I was no longer amused by my machinations.

A few hours later, Heathaaaa, now joined with me in the spirit of marathon training, texted me about the run. I suddenly realized, how much was riding on me - Heathaaaa and I had about 90 people coming to cheer us on in red "Never Say Never - Run Eddie & Heather" t-shirts. We had plans to split the hotel room that she had earned for raising over $5,000 for Memorial Sloan-Kettering. We were going to be Starting Line buddies. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the thought of not being able to do this - not being able to run the marathon. I texted her back saying that tomorrow I would try again.

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Day 102: Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Doctor

2009-10-02T22:50:00.002-04:00

You may not know this about me, but I'm prone to ailments. I know, in reading this blog, you might see me as some kind of hypochondriac or alarmist, but really I am not. I don't go to the doctor assuming that every pump is a legion or every blood test is going to come back positive for something negative. It's more that, I've devoted so much time and effort into this marathon training, and I want it so bad, that I'm convinced something is bound to go wrong.

Interestingly enough, considering that I'm good for at least three bouts of some kind of infection a year, I didn't really think that that something could possibly a sickness. I realized how wrong I was when I woke up with a nice 102 fever. This didn't really concern me, I have a tendency to raise high fevers, even as an adult (last year the night before our office holiday party I raised a 104 fever - just for funsies). However, my throat was hurting something fierce, and I realized that I had been ignoring it for a few days, chalking it up to lingering allergies. Yes, I found it odd that when I looked at my throat in the mirror, there were innumerable, visible white spots all over it, but I thought it would run its course. It had to... because I had a course of my own... to run. Words are so fun! You know what's not? Strep Throat.

In a pinch, I went to see a family friend who was a doctor near my apartment. We have a casual relationship, mostly because he's known my family for years, and also because I think it's a quiet understanding between us, that I paid for his son's braces with my yearly pneumonia.

He took one look at my throat and actually said, "Yuck." Even in a casual relationship with your doctor, him beign grossed out by your ailment is not, generally, a good sign. He told me that he was 90% sure it was Strep. It looked like Strep, and to be honest, he said, it smelled like Strep.

This was nearly too much for me. I gasped, and said: "It smells like Strep? What? You can't just say that to people!" Bad breathe is a major bone of contention for me, and the fact that I had been walking around with a mouth smelling of puss was much more mortifying than the fact that I had the same malady as your average 7 year old.

He gave me a heavy duty dose of antibiotics to knock this out of me immediately. Steve recently lost a ton of weight and completed his first triathalon, so he understood the pressures I was facing, and the panic on my face was a clear as the scent of strep in the air. Unfortunately, until my fever broke and I didn't feel like death, I would be out of my training routine. This was getting interesting...

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Day 94: Allergy Attack-ack-ack

2009-09-17T22:50:00.000-04:00

As you may have gleaned by now, I'm a big fan of rewarding myself. I want the most possible reward for basically putting forth the least amount of effort. If there was a crowd of people congratulating me for crawling out of bed every morning, or perhaps breathing at a reasonably sturdy rate, I'd be all for it. To prove this point, I was so pleased with my performance on my 16 mile run, that I essentially rewarded myself with three days off from training - Mazel Tov to myself, I say! Yes, I realize that giving myself time off from my training schedule as a reward is like giving a man who has days to live a lottery ticket for a drawing that's three months away, but it worked on my psyche, and that's all that matters. This, like the time I dyed my hair jet black and my decision to support Gwen Stefani as a solo artist, proved to be a terrible mistake.

You see by Thursday, when I was ready to train again, my allergies has kicked into high gear for the season. For those of you who don't have any kind of allergy, well, you can bite me. Imagine the most annoying, irritating child you've ever encountered. Think Dennis the Menace mixed with that little girl from those old Pepsi commercials and remove any kind of ridalin from the situation. Now picture that child is running amok inside your face. That's sort of what allergies are, except not as pleasant.

Depending on what you are allergic and how severe they are, the way your allergies manifest themselves vary. I get the good ol' sneezing through several boxes of tissues per day, throat closing, eye numbing that makes death seem like a warm and inviting alternative.

I left work early on Thursday, or rather was asked to leave by several people, because I was disgusting to be around. At one point I needed to put two tissues up my nose to stop the constant oozing, and as few inhibitions as I have, that's something that is really meant only for the sanctity of your couch.

However, by the time I got home, I was feeling a little better and I decided to go for a run. I figured that it was only 40 minutes, so it shouldn't be so bad. I had also recently become obsessed with the notion that something was going to go horribly wrong the day of the marathon and I'd have to run through it. I suddenly found myself wanting to prepare for running in a perfect storm of allergies, diarrhea, alternating cold snaps and waves of intense heat. It would also be raining, the pavement on the city streets would be replaced by marshmallows and my high school girlfriend would be running besides me while having sex with her new husband.

Let's just say that things didn't go very well. My asthma, which had been at bay for a while at this point (and hadn't flared up at all during my training thus far) started to act up, possibly due to the fact that I was unable to breath through my nose and the air was so thick you could actually scoop it up, put it in a box and FedEx it to Mother Nature with a note that said: "Are you proud of yourself?"

I got through the 40 minutes, barely, but realized that if any of the disasters I was envisioning for the marathon, which would essentially be the sequel to that disaster-porn 2012, come to fruition, I'd be, well, fucked.

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Day 90: My Super Sweet 16

2009-09-13T22:18:00.000-04:00

Feeling uncharacteristically buoyant after the success of the 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit, I decided it was time to make it out for my long(est) run Sunday morning. In days passed, the afterglow of Summer Hope would have kept me feeling a sense of entitlement that would've stretched well into my marathon training. "I don't need to run, because I hosted a successful cancer benefit 48 hours ago." I realize that one has nothing to do with the other, but as a sociopath-in-training I usually ignore such obvious logic.

This was different, however. I felt positively buoyant after the benefit this year, and wanted that feeling to continue. Announcing my candidacy for the 2009 NYC Marathon to 225 people at my foundation's annual soiree like Howard Dean on a bad mushroom trip didn't hurt as far as motivation either. It was time to put everyone's money where my mouth had been. It was time to run.

I had a lot, mentally, riding on this 16-miler. It had been a couple of weeks since I successfully ran the 14-miles around Eisenhower Park. I did begin to feel as though this 16 miles being a real marker for my marathon success. I know it seems crazy, but I honestly felt that if I could get through 16 miles in one shot without combusting emotionally and physically, I could run that last ten on pure grit and determination. I would be the scrappy country singer of the NYC Marathon. Beaten, but never down. You can easily replace "scrappy country singer" with "scrappy player too small for the team", "scrappy single mother in the big city" or "scrappy journalist on the search for answers", if any of those better suit your analogy.

Regardless, I headed back to Eisenhower Park, which had treated me quite well the previous week. I would do 5 three mile loops with 5 .25 jaunts to and from my strategically placed car to rehydrate everything from my muscles to my nipples (thank you, Aquafor!).

The run went surprisingly well. I was feeling good and hitting my stride at a reasonable pace. I had even been able to ward off the leers of the "crazy gay people" who my mother is convinced troll the various park public rest rooms, waiting for a fine young thing like me to attack. Whether this is true or not, it is fairly typical of my mother to read something outlandish and out of the realm of day to day activity, fictional or otherwise, and be convinced that it was inevitable. Back before cell phones, she was convinced that I would use a pay phone and stick my finger in a change slot, only be pricked by an infected AIDS syringe. Since the advent of the internet and e-mail, she has resigned herself to sending the occasional forward warning, calmly begging me to please read so I don't mistakenly give my life savings to a sultan from Guyan.

I was also pleased with the routine I had gotten myself into, involving body and nipple hydration, as well, as enjoying a nice Gu energy capsule. It seemed as though, I might have this thing figured out. The run around the park is boring, but it did seem likely that if i could manage literally running myself in circles, the excitement of running from Staten Island to Central Park would probably keep my mind from wandering to the inevitable "WTF was I thinking?"

Even more pleasing was my time: 11:10 minutes per mile - it was by far my fastest long-run time, and closing the gap just a little between myself and that speed demon, Heathaaaa. It was also interesting to think, that even though this took me over 3 hours, it would only be another 2 hours until I was completely finished with the entire marathon. Now, of course, that is a ridiculous amount of time to spend running, but I did feel a surge of pride in the realization, that it wasn't completely ridiculous to me. I wasn't happy about it, but somewhere between the complaining and the hard work, I became, gulp, a runner. A slow, reluctant, surly runner, but a runner none the less.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

16 miles / 3 hours 6 minutes / 11:10 minutes per mile (!!!)

The Picture:

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Day 89: Summer Hope Breakdown

2009-09-12T21:39:00.002-04:00

The training routine, has gotten, admittedly less intense. I suppose that's not really accurate, it's not the routine, actually, that has gotten any less intense but rather me. I suppose this was a pretty standard course of action for me - get close enough to a goal to sniff it, and then back away. There's a reason why people refer to themselves as their own worst enemy. Darth Vader or Megan Fox are easier to vanquish than your inner-desire to fail. I found myself on fumes these last couple of weeks, finding excuse after excuse to fail. I also found myself wishing that The Biggest Loser would come back from hiatus early, so that I could see some fat people with real issues, and Jillian Michaels make them realize that they hated themselves for it.

The current course of excuses comes from a good source at least: The Summer Hope Benefit. As I've mention right here in this very blog, The Summer Hope Foundation is the non-profit organization that I founded in 2002, to support the fight against cancer. I make up for starting this non-profit and helping sick people through there difficult times, by not holding the door open for old ladies. Or, at least, not smiling when I do. The world needs balance, and I'm just doing my part to tip the scales back in favor of douchebaggery.

On Friday, September 11th, 2009, The Summer Hope Foundation hosted it's 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit, united 225 guests together against cancer, raised $55,000 and worked off more pounds than the 40 minutes of cross-training I skipped.

The day was marred by some bad weather, but I got my cardio in, running back and forth to the car to unload dozens of raffle prizes. This is the bread and butter (multi-grain and low-fat of course) of The Summer Hope Benefit every year. We get some kick ass prizes, and people love a good chinese auction. Oh. Wait. Was that racially insensitive? I meant Asian or Pacific Islander Auction. My bad.

As the set-up for the big event progressed, I realized that stress wasn't the weight-loss hinder that many suggest - I must've sweated off a pound or two just trying to make last minute table arrangements. This was going to be a great day for weight loss and my cardiologist alike!

A few short hours later, and it was time for myself and the esteemed board of The Summer Hope Foundation to get ready, so I took the stairs two at a time to the Bridal Suite where we would be turning from pumpkins into slightly better looking squash. I grabbed my tux with a hint of resentment and started to get dressed.

You see, earlier in the week, I decided I needed to get my tux altered. Well, of course I did - I hadn't even tried it on since the previous September. And I'm not sure if you all have noticed, but I've been looking pretty dashing lately - and trim! I decided to head to Men's Wearhouse, where I originally bought the suit from and demand the tailor adjust the tux immediately. I said as much to the young kid working the counter, and he dismissed me as a problem customer and told me to put the tux on and he'd get the tailor out from the back to work on all the alterations. I stressed the importance of getting this done in a quick fashion - after all the entire thing would need to be taken in.

The only problem? I hadn't actually tried the tux on, I was just assuming that it would be too big on me. And you know what happens when we assume, right? You make an ass out of yourself. And your mom. Or something. You could imagine my fat guy in a little suit shock when I was in the dressing room, and slipped the tux on perfectly. Like a glove. Not an inch to take in or let out.

I stood in the dressing room, staring out myself in disbelief - realizing that I hadn't so much lost any weight, but rather gained and lost the same 25 pounds over the course of the previous year. I looked around the closet sized dressing room, and remembered I had some gum and chap-stik in my pocket - I could feasibly live in there forever, because exiting the dressing room really wasn' t much of an option at this point.

Unfortunately, the store clerk began to worry about me, and questioned my existence. I was tempted to claim hysterical deafness or accuse him of molesting me, to get the spotlight off my waistline and fallen ego. Instead, I decided to go the crazy route. I left the dressing room in a fit of hysterical laughter: "No, no, no, it fits fine. Perfect." Long, confused pause. "You must think I'm a real maniac." Nothing throws someone off your madness scent like beating them to the punch. I think, however, the results speak for themselves:

As I dressed for the big event (complete with new bow tie, cumber bun and shoes, which I bought in a fit of guilt and embarrassment) I steeled myself for what was about to be the biggest life in my toddler Summer Hope's young existence.

The night was an unabashed, easily our best ever. One of the focus' of the evening's speeches was the NYC Marathon and the fundraising for Fred's Team. In fact, my Lil' Buddy Kerry, gave a great speech about running the NYC Marathon for Fred's Team at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center and working at Cold Spring Harbor Labs.

Unfortunately, when it was my turn to speak it didn't go so well. I'm a pretty good orator - comfortable, natural and happy to be in front of a crowd. However, the pressure, stress and general sadness of the night overwhelmed me and I had what can only be described as a complete emotional breakdown in front of 225 guests. Generally, I like to have my emotional breakdowns by myself in the shower or the side of the road (you know, like a normal person), but it was not quite an option this night. I was taken over by the night and all that we had accomplished. It was also the first time, I publicly declared my intentions to run the NYC Marathon, and the weight of that laid heavy on me.

On the bright side, I think that people thought if they didn't slip into their pockets for another few bucks that I might lock them in the ballroom using just my mind and bring the place to a bloody in. Win-win.

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Day 85: WHY GOD!?!?! WHYYYYYY!!!!!

2009-09-08T22:58:00.000-04:00

THIS HAS BECOME AN EPIDEMIC!!! WHY DOESN'T SOMEONE TELL YOU!?!?!?!? WHY DOESN'T SOMEONE TELL YOU ABOUT THE PAIN! DEAR GOD, THE AGONY!

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Day 79: Speed Racer

2009-09-02T22:27:00.009-04:00

Unlike Maverick and Goose, I don't have the need. The need for speed. Nor do I have the need for homoerotic volleyball grudge matches / eye sodomy, but that's neither here no there. The truth of the matter is, in training for the marathon, the time in which I finished was never on my mind as much as the physical shape I'd be in when I finished - mainly alive vs. dead.

However, that all started to change when I realized that my potential marathon running buddy, Heathaaaa, was clocking in at solid, if not spectacular 9-ish minute mile. Heathaaaa and I would like to start this race together - after all, she is Jilly's cousin, and we are both part of the completely-made-up-but-still-incredibly-important Ed's Team for Fred's Team. All of our friends and family (shared and otherwise) would be cheering for both of us at mile 9 and again at mile 18, wearing our commemorative t-shirts, as we had in the years passed. However, I was currently testing the limits of our we're in this together mentality by running about 2 1/2 minutes slower than Heathaaaa. That would mean our fans would have to get wait about 30 minutes after she passed to cheer for me in Brooklyn, and then make it up to the Upper East Side in time to spot Heathaaaa dash by, and still squeeze in time for a few pre-ceremony brews. Clearly, I was going to have to step up my game.

To be honest, because of my time's not an issue training mentality, I hadn't given much extra thought to the Tempo workouts my trust running guide was telling me to do on Wednesdays. I wasn't convinced that sprinting for 2 - 10 minutes at a clip would be the best thing in the world for my already fragile ego body. When you ready yourself for slow and steady, kicking it up to an 11 is just about the last thing you can wrap your mind around.

But this Wednesday was different. I had to give this "running fast" thing everyone was talking about a whirl. I needed to run 10 minutes at a fast, yet comfortable pace and then slow down for 1 minute and kick it back up for another 10. No problem.

The first thing I realized was, ironically being the revelation came nearly 3 months into my training for the NYC Marathon, how out of shape I was. By this point, I probably should've been able to run a mile at a clip, but it was difficult to keep myself on pace as I set the treadmill for a 10 minute mile.

The second thing was that I finally understood, after seasons of treadmill breakdowns on The Biggest Loser, what was so scary about going fast. All I kept thinking about was that the entirety of my 200 pound frame was moving very quickly - what if I slipped? What if I lost my footing and took out a row of eliptical-minded cougars? Were there any children around to break my fall? It's all very scary.

In the end I completed the 2 sets of 10 minutes, and was able to keep myself on a pace I as comfortable with, but I was a long way from keeping up with Heathaaaa.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

The Picture:

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Day 76: The Big One

2009-08-30T10:58:00.006-04:00

14 miles. 14 miles. 14 miles. This would be, by far, the longest I've ever run. Prior to this would be the 9-mile massacre that wasn't mostly a limp. So I had only my 8 mile run as a base. I was nearly doubling that. And I had been on vacation and only run one day upon returning home. I can't quite describe it but I was... scared. I suddenly got the feeling that my entire training - my entire ability to run the marathon itself rested on this run. I had half-assed my way through the training up until this point, and now the running gods were either going to smile down upon me or smite me in a shower of Nike + iPod chips. I couldn't fight the feeling that if, at this point, I wasn't able to make this run happen - no quitting, no excuses, no cheating - that my marathon bid would be one big, embarrassing blip on the Eddie Mouradian radar.

Uncharacteristically, I had been thinking about the run for the past week or so. Even while in Disney, I would let me mind wander to mapping out a suitable route. I had it in my head that I would run from my parents house, and set up little water stations at various friends and families' houses to stop and get a drink and maybe use a restroom if need be. Thank God, Tropical Depression Danny was just off the coast, because it was a cool and rainy day - the kind of running weather that real runners dream of, and annoy everyone else about. While I don't consider myself a real runner, I get the appeal to a breezy 70 degrees with occasional rain sprinkles. I just have the decency to keep it to myself and the baker's dozen of people who read this blog.

The hiccup in this plan, that I really hadn't realized until the day before the run that nearly every one of my friends had moved out of our hometown, and that oddly, my family and extended family were all on vacations. Normally, this would lead me to the gym (not for 14 miles) or to the couch (better luck next week!). I then remember that Jilly's cousin (and our marathon-in-training parnter) Heathaaaa had been running at Eisenhower Park - there is a 3 mile running path, as well as bathrooms galore. This might be right up my ally.

It also, incidentally, happens to be the location of the 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit on Friday, September 11th, 2009 supporting the Summer Hope Foundation's mission to donate funds to cancer research facilities, and to provide solace and hope to those affected by cancer. And wait, whoa, the invitation to the benefit and a link to it on our website is right here! So weird.

I woke up early, this time for serious, and grabbed a yogurt so i would have a little something in my system. The anxiety of the run (or the two cups of coffee and 20 ounces of green tea) kept my sleep restless and my dreams unsettlingly rapid, but I still managed to hurl myself out of bed a little after 8 am. I knew the weather was going to be cool - but better safe than sorry. Also, the forecast threatened thundershowers and torrential rain like a grade school teacher threatens spelling tests. I started to feel like the meteorologists on the major news channels were mean bullies with big hair and fake tans.

I headed directly to the supermarket and bought a six pack of gatorade and a gallon of water - I would be able to leave this in my car right by the running trail and stop for drinks after every 3 miles. Check and check. I was starting to get nervous - if I kept on removing all the obstacles that I placed in front of me, I just might do this.

The start of the run, was mildly disastrous. You see, the starting line has two arrows: a red arrow leads you to the three mile run, the white arrow to a one mile run. Great. I was obviously going to follow the red arrow four times around and then the white arrow twice. Simple. Except that by this time of the season, with all the rain or wear and tear sometimes the arrows were completely invisible. I actually ran a fake mile just trying to follow the wrong arrow. I must've looked like a real creep running, literally in circles, muttering under my breath about the damn arrows.

Once Eddie Got His Groove Back though, I found myself feeling really good. I wasn't achey, I wasn't bored, I wasn't tired. All of my issues that came up, were all mental - and for the first time I was able to see through and see past them. I'm not going to lie to you I walked intermittently the last mile or two, because that was the time that my body was begging for me stop. But I pushed through. I finished 14 miles.

The weight of that victory was heavy on me for the rest of the day. I now get it. At the height of my training in a few weeks I will run a max of 20 miles. The marathon is 26.2. That kind of scares me - but the theory is, if you can run 20, you can run 26. It makes sense, but as I've said before, I'd just kind of like to make sure. However, after 14 miles, which is just barely more than a half marathon, I don't think there is any amount of mileage I couldn't do. I also think that I can probably lift a car right now if I needed to, but that's not the point. The point is, In just about 9 weeks, I'm going to run a marathon. I have no doubts.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Over You - Daughtry
Better Man - Pearl Jam
Leavin' - Jesse McCartney
Lips of an Angel - Hinder
The World I Know - David Cook
One - Mary J. Blige & U2 (consistently the song that gets me to run my fastest mile - weird)
Umbrella - Rihanna & Jay-Z (I thought it was endlessly funny that I was running in the rain to this song)
The Taste of Ink - The USed
Love Today - Mika
Who's Lovin' You? - The Jackson 5
Are You That Somebody? - Aaliyah
Rock Wit U (Aww Baby) - Ashanti
Kiss Kiss - Chris Brown & T-Pain
Torn (remix) - LeToya & Mike Jones
Crazy On You - Heart
Somebody Told Me - The Killers
Body On Me - Nelly & Ashanti
The Carpal Tunnel of Love - Fall Out Boy
Gold Digger - Kanye West & Jamie Foxx
Mercury - Bloc Party
SOS - Rihanna
Still - Great Lake Swimmers
The Old Apartment (live) - Barenaked Ladies
Road Outside Columbus - O.A.R.
Hush, Hush - Pussycat Dolls
Because of You (remix) - Ne-Yo & Kanye West
Chop Me Up - Justin Timberlake
Fell In Love With a Girl - The White Stripes
Musunderstood - Bon Jovi
Dreaming with a Broken Heart - John Mayer
Die Without You - Brandy
MFEO - Jack's Mannequin
Mr. Brightside - The Killers
Sam's Town - The Killers
The Heart of the Matter - India.Arie
Bonus Mosh Pt. II - Taking Back Sunday

The Workout:

14 Miles / 12.5 minutes per mile / millions of calories

The Picture:

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Day 74: Back on the Main Land

2009-08-30T09:50:00.005-04:00

Granted, Florida might be a connected part of the good ol' U.S. of A., but it seems that Disney World is a tiny, creepy, magical country all its own. Coming back mid-week totally through me off and I have the 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit coming up (visit www.summerhope.org for more details!). The Summer Hope Benefit is my foundation, Summer Hope's annual fundraiser (our flagship, if you will), and it completely consumes my life for the month of August and September. On the plus side it keeps on growing and growing, increasing the amount of money Summer Hope donates to cancer research facilities and uses to support cancer patients and their families (for example, we are building a children's library at a pediatric cancer unit, and providing another with a $5,000 gaming system for their Pediatric Bon Marrow center this year). However, the bigger it gets the more moving parts that are involved. Luckily, the Board of the Summer Hope Foundation which is chock full of friends and family have become pros at putting together this event - that doesn't make it any less nerve racking. Nor does it make it any easier to get my ass to the gym or on the streets.

Carving out time to run is going to get harder and harder until September 11th, 2009 (the night of the Benefit), and yet for the first time in 10 weeks or so, I feel like I need solace that a run can bring. I know I sound like one of those cheesy running people, who equate running with some kind of faux religion, but as my stress builds, two hours of focusing on something other than a) cancer and b) guest counts (get in our responses people - you are slowly killing me!). I realized that there were about a million Summer Hope related things that I needed to know in the hour it would take me to get to the gym, stretch and run for 45 minutes (not to mention write this blog), but I had to do it. If not now, then when, right?

My goal was to run without stopping. This has been a major problem for me from day one of my training, and I haven't asked, but I assume it's something that a lot of non-runner runners deal with. Something in my brain just clicks off and tells me that I've done enough and that it's time to rest. I think that might be fine if I was half way through a twenty mile run, but perhaps unnecessary when running four miles.

I set the treadmill to a steady and in my comfort zone 12 minute mile and ran for 45 minutes straight. This was one of the first times I've done this without the treadmill being set for, say, a 15 minute mile, which is essentially a slightly brisk walk. I am starting to get convinced that Disney was just the reboot I needed.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Sink Into Me - Taking Back Sunday
Ego (remix) - Beyonce & Kanye West
I Gotta Feeling - Black Eyed Peas
Leave Me Alone - Michael Jackson
Countin' On A Miracle - Bruce Springsteen
I Told You So - Keith Urban
C'mon, C'mon - Sheryl Crow
Something Happened on the Way to Heaven
Run - Leona Lewis
And Then There Were None - Spring Awakening
Bones - The Killers
Cruisin' Together - Smokey Robinson
The Ice is Getting Thinner - Death Cab For Cutie

The Workout:

The Beginning...

Then I accidentally hit the stop button...

The Picture:

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Day 69: 28 and in Disney

2009-08-30T09:04:00.009-04:00

Two years ago, one year before my best friend Carla got married, she and I went on vacation to Disney World. Fast forward to now and Carla had been happily married to John for a year, and he happily stayed home rather than dealing with Carla and I at the most magical place on earth. Smart move. Some people, obviously, will think that this is odd - Carla a newlywed, me a single guy and "technically" her ex-boyfriend (although anyone who considers our three month dalliance as anything but a funny footnote in our overall story doesn't really get us) and her hubby staying at home. But that's what makes Carla and I (and yes, you too, John) so special. And don't you worry, Mom, when I will Imaginary Girlfriend into existence, she'll be staying home on Carla and my future vacations. Nothing weird here!

We spent seven glorious days at Mickey's House, each day more filled with sun, rides and general tomfoolery than the previous. The only thing the days weren't filled with? Running.

Now I realize that the sun actually IS closer in Florida, but this was ridiculous. It was so hot, it felt like the sun was right next to my face every single morning. When I woke up it was as if the sun was trying to sneak out of my bed, slip on it's pants and climb out the window. It was by the end of the first day's journey at Hollywood Studios (no more MGM Studios!) that I realized going for a run was going to be a problem.

As days turned into nearly a week, Carla and I realized how schooled we were getting by Disney. We had made the mistake of getting too cocky. We had been there nearly three dozen times between the two of us, and together this was our 3 1/8 trip, if you count the time we dropped our friend-who-shall-remain-nameless off at one of the resorts for some happy time with her boyfriend at the time while we went to Universal Studios on a drive back from vacation in Marco Island, FL.

First, we had decided to upgrade our hotels from the usual All-Star Resort to a Moderate Resort. The only research we did was noting that the Caribbean Beach Resort had a pool-side bar. Sold. Little did we realize that it also had an outdated television set, barely any channels, no wi-fi, and was one of the largest resorts on the property, so the pool side was about a half a mile away from our room. It also, naturally, didn't have a gym. What it did boast was a 1.1 mile nature trail, in case you felt like going for a quick little job in 105 degree weather. Yum.

There are a bunch of little lessons that Disney humbled us with - enough in fact for an entirely different blog - that involve the Disney Dining plan, fast passes and transportation - but I won't go into them here. The point is that it was day four of vacation and I hadn't run a lick yet.

Carla, my biggest general advocate this side of Roxie Mouradian, decided we would wake up early take a bus to the Magic Kingdom, jump on the monorail to the Transport and ticket center, switch monorails and head to the gym at the Grand Floridian. No problem.

This was depressing in of itself, because I realized how much nicer a Disney vacation is when you feel like your actually on vacation being pampered at a fancy hotel. It was also depressing, because at nearly 30 years old, this is so well beyond my price range, I immediately started to realize I've done something wrong with my life. Me and my stupid fulfilling career in non-profit! All I wanted in the world was to get back to my computer at the Caribbean Beach resort, plug it into the Ethernet, wait 10 minutes for the internet to boot up, get charged $10 and find out that some publisher had stumbled onto Run, Fatboy, Run and decided to make me a three-book deal. Sigh.

The gym at the Grand Floridian was predictably state-of-the-art, and it took me nearly as much time to figure out how to program the treadmill as it did to go for my run. In the end, the rest didn't kill me - I was able to run out 5 miles in the hour we had allotted before we had to get ready for extended Magic Hours at the Magic Kingdom that evening. Peter Pan's Flight - on repeat.

The Workout:

5 miles / 12 minutes per mile.

The Picture:

Carla and I are deluded that people are obsessed with us, which is why after every picture we took at Disney we'd say something like: "Well, this is what the people want." So here you go! (Before you ask, yes, at some point we were wearing matching shirts and sunglasses. We never mean to, but by the last day it just... happens.)

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Day 63: Nipple Chafing

2009-08-30T07:41:00.003-04:00

So far the re-re-re-rededication to the training process had been going well this past week. I missed the front end of my first week back, naturally, but since Wednesday I had been right on top of that, Rose. On Saturday, I was meant to do a 12 mile long run, the first high mileage day since I limped home for 4 miles after hurting my leg on the 9-mile disaster. Long Island was in the midst of a particularly bad heat wave. Well, perhaps not technically a heat wave, this being mid-August, but it felt like the entirety of the Island was being held tightly in Chunk from The Goonies sweaty palm. I was leaving for Disney in three days with my BFFL Carla, and I know that the Mouse House isn't likely to leave much time for running. I thought I would try something different: Wake up early to be the heat, head to a near-by High School track and pack some Gatorades and water to leave in the shade.

Logistics of the long-run has become my biggest concern of late. I'm not into the phase where I'm out on the streets for two, three, four hours-plus. How do you pee? Okay, got that. How do you poop? What if it storms? Who dabs your forehead with a towel? Where do you get a drink? Much like Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club (RIP John Hughes), I have a really low tolerance for dehydration (and it's gross, sir). These questions weren't going to get answered today, so the track it was. Furthermore, as seemingly boring as a 12-mile run around a track seems, there was something appealing to the internal countdown of having to do exactly 48 laps.

I knew this wasn't going to go well, when I woke up at 10 am. I'm not a late sleeper in general (one of the pitfalls of your late twenties - starting to feel like your "wasting the whole day" by sleeping into the double digits), but I guess my brain wanted to give my body an excuse to be lazy. Thanks, stupid brain.

I woke up and had half a cliff bar and a glass of orange juice, before I realized that I had no idea where the high school in my town was located. I'm a recent transplant to the strange, scary world of Suffolk County, where sidewalks and street lamps are few and far between. So apparently were high schools. The only one I knew of was Ward-Melville High School about 15 minutes away (Shout Out: Herr Boys) so I headed there. As I parked and started walking over to through the construction riddled parking lot, I saw a tiny woman walking back from the fence with her head shaking. Crap. If this track was for some reason closed, that would be all I needed to throw this training day in the garbage. I had gotten to the point where I wasn't so much looking for excuses, I was looking for ways to avoid them, because once they reared their heads I would embrace them like my buddy Anton embraces Asian chicks.

I don't know what that woman was shaking her head about, but it wasn't the track - I found the gate, dropped off my things in a shady spot, did my stretch and started my laps. I could go off onto a long, bitter tangent about my Nike + iPod chip that needed recalibration and I wanted to smash it into a million pieces then grind it up into fine bits and serve it as a garnish on top of Steve Jobs' salad. But I won't.

Instead, I'll admit to only getting half way through the run. I started at about 10:30 am, and by the sixth mile I felt that I was going to slip and fall in one of my own pools of sweat. However, this is something that I could've persevered through. I think. At about mile 3 I was inflicted by the weird and painful phenomenon nipple chafing. Now, I know what you're thinking: That is something they made up as a way to get a cheap laugh out of Andy Bernard's bloody nipples on The Office. Well, if that's not what you were thinking, it's definitely what I was thinking. Until I felt that first scratch of my man nips against my Under Armour.

"That's funny," I thought to myself, as I gently scratched my chest through my shirt. By the next mile, I was in full on chafing mode, with every thrust of my body slamming my shirt against my sensitive irritated nipples like a marble inside a burlap sack. It was the most odd and intense and uncomfortable pain I've ever felt. I literally felt as though my nipples were going to fall right off, and by this point, it was something I would've welcomed. There must have been some high school hooligans hanging out at the track the night before because there were a couple of broken beer bottles laying around the periphery of the track, and I actually was wondering if I should slice off my nips in some kind of beastly mock-Hostel self mutilation. I'd be like that person who had convinced himself that his body was crawling with ants and peeled off his own skin, but shouts: "I got them all!"

By the sixth mile, the combination of the nipple chafing and the heat was too much for me. Plus, there was a family of three generations of runners on the track now and it was making the nipple chafing seem like a fine price to pay to not see them anymore. You might call me a quitter, but I don't care. To paraphrase Monica Gellar Bing: I got chafed. Chafed bad.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

6 miles / 12 minutes per mile / 772 calories

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Day 62: X-liptical Marks the Spot

2009-08-29T23:34:00.005-04:00

As you might be able to tell from my-less-than-inspired title for my Day 63 workout, not all that much happened on my cross-training day. I had gotten so used to hijinks, elaborate excuses and pop culture disasters, that a day at the gym without incident leaves me a little cold. Where is the excitement of say a fake injury or the death of former Jackson 5 member? Am I supposed to just work out the elliptical for 30-plus minutes and enjoy the Suite Life of Zack & Cody? I guess so, because that's exactly what happened. Boo.

Granted, I could take this opportunity to discuss how this particular episode of Suite Life (the first I had ever seen), was both mildly amusing and a bit alarming. First, Ashley Tisdale is on this show? Who knew? I didn't know why she was famous before, and I'm still a little unsure, but in case anyone was wondering if the nose job was a good decision in hindsight - 100%. She looks like an Ugly Duckling who turned into a swan, but then got hit in the face with a tree branch. Second, this episode was all about Ashley and some of her friends (special guest stars Vanessa "Before She Was Hot" Hudgens and the chick who was on Dancing with the Stars), getting one of those take care of the electronic doll baby assignments that only exist on tween television shows. My issue here was that, wouldn't you know it, all these hot young things go to a catholic school! In Catholic School girl uniforms! Now, when I say "issue" I don't mean it explicitly, because every guy around my age goes above and beyond the normal affection for the naughty catholic school girl thank to a one Ms. Britney Spears. Yum.

The issue is that... well, poor Disney starlets. Vanessa Hudgens wasn't even on my radar until she started snapping shots of her tatas with her camera phone, and then she gets chided by Mickey Mouse. Ashely Tisdale spends years on Disney sitcoms being dressed like an extra from Christina Aguilera's Dirrty video, and then can't grow up. Miley Cyrus goes down on a priest in a rectory and the tabloids explode (at least, I assume they would if it happened). Disney creates these monsters, and then wants to control them and their sexuality. I think it's despicable. And I think the only way to remedy it is with some Mud Wrestling. On Pay-Per-View.

Oh. And I, like, worked out and stuff.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

The Picture:

This picture has nothing to do with anything. I just think I look good in it.

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Day 61: Sprints in the City

2009-08-29T22:23:00.003-04:00

Carrie Bradshaw is a dumb whore. There I said it. I felt compelled to do so, one to piss off my friend Kristin, who is the Carrie of North Hicksville, but also because I didn't want any allusion to me enjoying the show-that-must-not-be-named, even in bad play on words form (and Carrie would know wouldn't she?). And this isn't because I'm trying to make some faux-attempt at being a man's man or too much of a guy to enjoy that show. I say that easily because as I am typing this I am enjoying the new Demi Lovato CD - I just thought that the show's message was basically telling women to let me treat them like garbage, as long as they build you a closet and/or are very apologetic about it. I have only seen a few episodes and only really ever enjoyed one ("I'm sorry. I can't. Don't hate me."). But in the interest of full disclosure, I did see the Menopause and the City movie, because, to be honest, I don't like to be left on the sidelines of the cultural zeitgeist. People were going to be talking about this, and I needed to know what they were saying. Big mistake. Seeing my poor Janey Glenn quick, quick slow her way back into the arms of Captain Douchebag, after being publicly humiliated on a scale that needed new numbers was more horrifying than anything in the Saw oeuvre. The women in the audience swooning, was the straw that broke this camel's penis. I needed to get out of there play football for the first time in my life, hang out with Jesse James and bang a cambodian hooker. Oh in case you haven't pieced it together yet... I ran in the city yesterday.

I feel like the girl from Mean Girls who crashes Tina Fey's intervention: I have a lot of feelings. Unfortunately, presently, they revolved around the vitriol that I have for Samantha Does Soho. But that's not why you check out this blog, is it? It's to see the level of failure that I've managed with my latest training fiasco.

I think I'm at my best, training wise, when I feel like I have something to prove. Thursday night I was meeting my friends, Dorinki, her BF Scott, Abbie Sue and her lover Mork for dinner at Rare in the city. I live on Long Island, Abbie Sue and Mork are in Hoboken and Dorinki and Scott are in NYC, so dinner alternates but the NYC is usually a pretty good midway point. Suddenly, I was overcome with the urge, nay the need, to run. Granted, this should have been the case at this point in my training, but if this isn't your first time at Run, Fatboy, Run, you know that I've skipped training for much worse reasons - bad playlist, wrong socks, Tiffany CD signing at the Broadway Mall. However, being able to seem so dedicated to my training was the force that pushed me.

Ironically, this is not something that is lost on Dorinki or Abbie Sue. The two of them have been friends since Abbie shot forth from Clare Bear's loins. The three of us have been bonded for closing on fifteen years. They are two of my closest friends, and biggest supporters, so the "show" I was putting on was in my head alone.

I was actually excited about the prospect of running on the streets of New York. I was only used to vomiting on them after long nights drinking. The Halloween I went as Clark Kent coming home from a one night stand immediately comes to mind (Big Ups to Marisa and Adam for housing me that night!). And I was right. It was sort of fun running amidst the swirl of people, cars and falafel carts. It even inspired me to get closer to a 12 minute mile and eat healthy at Rare. In the words of Dorinki: "Who thought I'd see the day..." in response to my turkey burger and salad. I suppose yesterday was the day.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Kings of Leon CD - Only by the Night AGAIN.

BE SOMEBODY is a great running song for obvious reasons.

The Workout:

3.25 miles / 12:20 per mile / 485 calories

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Day 60: Saddle Up

2009-08-29T21:22:00.006-04:00

After getting a clean bill of health from my medical team, I was finally ready to get back to running. Of course this was supposed to happen on Monday, but as I've been learning from the cold hard bitch of marathon training, things happen. Honestly, at this point, I don't even really remember what was going on the last two days that were so important I couldn't carve out 40 minutes to run. I'm assuming it something to do with Demi Lovato or True Blood or my new obsession with Red Box movie rentals. But does it really matter? I realize I'm the only one getting hurt (literally and metaphorically) by skipping my training. Won't we all be so happy when I bust a kneecap or tear off a nipple and finally don't have to make these excuses?

Going to the gym for the first time in what was now over two weeks, was at once scary and exhilarating, like the prospect of a a stint in rehab or the new Whitney Houston CD. While my hatred of running on the treadmill is well-documented at this point, there was something more foreboding in the air this evening. I felt like I was sleepwalking my way into Planet Fitness, scared that I would enter the gym and everyone was going to stop what they are doing, weights would simultaneously clink and the Junk Alarm was going to go beserk. Luckily, a handsome woman in a reverse mullet snapped me out of my trance, and I realized that no one cares about me. And if I was walking in the same time as this human Body Glove t-shirt, they wouldn't even know I existed.

I decided to stretch, because this seems to be an aspect of the running process that I have avoided, like many of the people at the gym have avoided self-respect. After my deep stretch, I stepped onto the treadmill and let 'er rip. Ok, that's an exaggeration, because a 40 minute run / 3.2 mile run isn't exactly a rip roaring run, but I was very pleased that I was pretty much in the same time as my previous runs. Meaning, I am training so poorly, that two weeks off doesn't even effect me. Impressed?

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Kings of Leon - Only By The Night CD

The Food:

Still haven't gotten back on the whole tracking my food thing.

The Workout:

The Picture:

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Day 54: Clean Bill of Health

2009-08-08T09:52:00.005-04:00

If you haven't noticed by now, excuses rule my life. My excuse for being fat is genetic, and not, for example, the chocolate Cadbury bar that I have hidden in my freezer. My excuse for my constant exhaustion is that I simply get more tired than the average person, and it's not fair. I'm perennially broke because someone has to keep the poor souls at Starbucks in business or the entire economy will collapse (whoops!). And so on, until I've justified everything from not doing my dishes for the past three weeks, to disappointing my mother by being single to purchasing the Chris Kattan classic, Corky Romano on DVD. The one day I went to my Psychology class in college (I couldn't! I had to work at that time! And nap.), I learned that a true sociopath's ability to justify their actions and mine were eerily similar. It also explained my penchant for murdering hookers. Go figure.

With my marathon training this particular side of my personality was out in full force. Anything from a dead iPod to the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court was cause for skipping a work out. So you could imagine my shock when an excuse I didn't make up, and thus couldn't undue, presented itself. My leg injury hasn't gotten much better and, at this point, I haven't run in over a week.

After seeking advice from a few valid sources like my cousin, Baby Dr. Michael (not because he's a pediatrician, but, because he's younger than I am and he's not a doctor - yet .) and my friend Suzanne, who is a trainer and in from Cali this week (I actually met her at her mother's house for their annual block party. We were, literally, partying like it was 1999), I took the week off to just let my body rest. For all the excuses I have been making over the past 7-plus weeks, the fact of the matter is my body was going through a lot of wear and tear, very quickly, and the simplest answer may have just been rest. I have never put much stock into the "simplest answer", mostly because I have an overactive imagination, and am not very good at math.

I quickly realized, as this week off filled me with a level of dread I usually save for looking at pictures of other people's children, that I had become obsessed with running the marathon. This is also fairly common. I am notorious for becoming quickly, unavoidably, painfully obsessed with something in a matter of moments, as evidenced by the mac power book I HAD to have, the 2 pump hazelnut iced coffee with skim that I'm drinking (the first of several) and my DVD collection that at one point had every movie I've ever seen. Most of the time the obsessions don't last and they aren't that solid - you can ask the Nintendo Wii I bought for $650 when it was out of stock and have only used twice. The same thing happened with the thought of running the marathon, only I was so busy hating the marathon, I didn't realize I really loved it. The depression then started to set in, not just because I might not be able to run the marathon and I was missing a week of training, but also because my relationship with the marathon so closely resembled a Katherine Heigl movie. I wondered if I'd be trying on several different bridesmaid dresses soon, or perhaps, going to dinner with vibrating underwear. This was going to be a disaster.

So I took the week off, started drinking again and went to CVS to buy $75 worth of running/body remedies - salt baths, ice packs, various creams and lotions. This in of itself should justify my dedication to this marathon training. It is a well-documented fact that I do not like to have substances touching me. But by mid-week, I couldn't get out of my own head and the prospect of not running firmly outweighed the misery of having to run. I called the doctor and my chiropractor and made two appointments for the end of the week. I needed someone to tell me I was gravely injured, a paranoid maniac or something in between.

Friday morning I saw my chiropractor, Steve, who is a good friend of my boss Ted. Steve is an unassuming guy, with a small, but very successful chiropractic practice out of Bayville, NY. I like him, because he's into holistic medicine without even the faintest whiff of New Age, Hippie Bullshit that so many flower children of a certain age seem to be unable to relinquish. I had be seeing Steve intermittently for about a year, ever since I injured my back at one of my Relay events.

For the amount of words I say in a single day (or write in a single blog), I can be surprisingly un-chatty when I want to be. It's mostly because I hate small talk or chit chat. I think it's a waste of oxygen, and as an asthmatic, I take that very seriously. Also, I don't generally like to be touched, so the chiropractor is not my favorite place in the world. Steve has a good understanding of that, and usually lays off the small talk and just uses his reflexology voodoo magic to make me better.

Steve's assessment of my injury was simple: I was 200 pounds trying to run a marathon. I was going to have some aches and pains. But I wanted to hear the words, so I made him say it: Just run through the pain. He also told me that I needed more salt intake and more calcium. I found both of these things shocking. I had been trying to stick to a low(er) sodium diet these past few months in an effort to lose weight. In all the years that I've struggled with my weight, I was genuinely surprised to hear that my diet was effecting my body. I know it seems silly, but I never put together the fact that I was pouring out gallons of sweat a day and my limited salt intake, and the adverse effects this could have on my muscles. The human body is much a mystery to me as the building of tunnels.

Friday afternoon, I had an appointment with my general practitioner, so my (now obviously) imaginary injury could get another thumbs up. My doctor is used to seeing me fairly often, because I can, on occasion, be "sickly". Years of asthma, allergies and general sloth like behavior have made my immune system somewhat compromised. Nothing serious, but if you have the common cold and I catch it, the chances of my body taking that cold an turning it into a pneumonia or ebola is highly likely.

I saw Dr. M. and he was pleasantly surprised that, to the naked eye, there was nothing dripping from any of my orifices. Obviously, he was confounded by what I was doing there without the need of a syringe to open up my tonsilitis infected throat, so when I told him that I was running the marathon he was positively delighted. He then went on to tell me all about his wife's triumphant marathoning days.

This is the problem when you tell someone you are running the marathon, they immediately tell you about someone they know who did the same thing. What I want to say is that your marathon running friend or family member probably was a lot more serious about this and wasn't clocking in at a whopping 13 minute mile and never went to two doctors in one day with a psychosomatic leg injury. But instead I nod and smile and agree with all the tips. People just want to help out, you know?

Dr. M., is a careful guy, who likes to run tests, so he checked my circulation, my blood, and ruled out a hernia (this was not something I was prepared for - I hope he wasn't insulted by my Man of Steel Superman undies). He started to suggest that perhaps I needed to build more muscle in my legs, and then pulled up my jeans to check out my legs. To say he was surprised would be an understatement - a lot of people are. I look like a pear running around on a pair of Q-tips.

Dr. M. came up with the same thing as Steve - I was fine, just a little worse for wear. He told me to take it easy and take the rest of the weekend off. But I was back on track. Someone other than the crazy person who lives in my heart of my mind had told me I was fine. Marathon: Here I come.

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Day 46: Tempo Pace

2009-07-31T11:25:00.003-04:00

As you know, I decided to skip Monday's run in exchange for a cross-training bout of weight training, to let me leg rest up, as it was still bothering me off and on. Tuesday was supposed to be another cross-training day, but instead I went to my parent's house so we, along with Carla, my sister Lola, my grandmother and my Tanti Annie & Uncle Serge, could stuff and send the invitations to the 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit (for more information visit: www.summerhope.org!). It was a difficult call whether or not to skip the Tuesday workout, but the fact that I left the stamps at my apartment in Ronkonkoma, sealed the deal for me, since Carla and I would have to go back there, drink a bottle of wine, watch Wedding Crashers and stamp 700-plus envelopes for the mailing. Wednesday, was a Tempo Training Run Day, where you run outside your comfort zone for 5 minutes, walk for 1 minute and repeat three times. Again, somewhat unfortunately, I had been staying up every night until 2 am reading "In the Woods" trying to figure out what the hell happened to Katy Devlin and wondering if the secrets buried deep in Detective Ryan's head about the disappearance of his two childhood friends would ever be unlocked! Like everything I do, this book completely consumed my life. You could imagine my displeasure, when I got home from work, promptly read one hundred pages and fell asleep at 6 pm until the next morning. No problem, I thought: Thursday was a Rest day, I would just switch them. Thursday I would run the Tempo Workout, a nice way to see if I was back on the mend or not.

I decided to run this out at the gym, figuring that the treadmill had a little forgiveness to it than the hard cement, and it might be easier on my legs. I was amped up to head there immediately afterwork. First, I'd have to hunker down and finish the last 50 pages of "In the Woods" for fear that I could have a brain aneurysm or get hit by a car at ANY MOMENT and would never know what happened in Kncoknaree Woods. When the book was over and I was completely and utterly annihilated by it's conclusion, I received a shocking text from Michelle My Work Wife:

Michelle: Are you napping?
A pretty spot on assumption: Eddie: Nope... Why are you obsessed with me?
Michelle: Wanna see the 6:45 Orphan? We would have to go right now.
Eddie: YES! What an unexpected treat!?!?!? Where? When? How? Tell me everything!
Michelle: Come here now. I'll drive.
Eddie: OK. I'm gonna wear my gym clothes. Don't judge me.

I knew that if I didn't go see Orphan fully prepared for the gym, the likelihood of me getting there was slimmer than anyone in that movie receiving an Academy Award. The thing is... I love movies about creepy kids. The Bad Seed? Yes! The Omen? "It's all for you, Damien!" The Good Son? A-MAZ-ING. I had been trying to bribe and/or beg any of my friends to see the movie since it came out, but I was shot down by everyone from Carla ("Yeah... I don't think I'm gonna do that.") to my horror-buff buddy Corey ("Nay for me - Don't fel like seeing another Good Son"). Another Good Son? IN MY DREAMS!

I wasn't expecting to see it until the hallow depths of paid cable snatched it up, by which point, I would've forgotten all about it. I had even been reduced to reading a spoiler-ific riff on the movie on EW.com. I certainly wasn't expecting this from Michelle My Work Wife, who rarely went to the movies, and even more rarely (now that she's preggo with twins) stays awake past 7 pm. Apparently, the idea was all her husband Adam's, who wanted to go surfing, but didn't want to leave Michelle to the inevitable siren call of the couch. I should be insulted, I think, that when Adam needed a babysitter for his wife, he immediately thought of me, only 1.2 miles away, with nothing to do. But, hey, I can't fault the guy for knowing me - and well, I got to see Orphan! Double score.

It was, of course, completely ludicrous, but unlike the rapper, not trying for any kind of prestige, like a recurring gig on Law & Order: SVU. I think the writers (and Producer Leonardo DiCaprio? Random.) thought that by luring award/indy movie bait like Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard, the movie would gain a pedigree all on its own. Unfortunately, that was immediately counterbalanced by the scene in which a little girl beats a nun to death with a hammer. It was mindless, stupid fun, but as Michelle noted, every subsequent scene got more and more ridiculous.

After the movie, I ran home real quick for some, uhh, digestive business, and still managed to head back to the gym. I did a massive stretch (I love stretching now. Stretching's my favorite!) and decided to run 3 five minute 6.0's on the treadmill to complete my tempo training.

Unfortunately, I was only able to complete two until my leg started acting up again, and the difference between pushing myself and injuring myself got blurred once more. I thought this was a good start back onto the wagon. We'll see.

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Day 43: Pumping Iron

2009-07-31T00:49:00.002-04:00

After Sunday's false start, I consulted with Jilly and she advised me to skip my run on Monday, as to not strain my leg anymore. In the twenty-four hours since the 9 mile debacle, which more closely resembled the first 15 minutes of Scream than a marathon training session, my thighs were still bothering me. I downgraded this to "thigh pain" because I don't know enough about the human body to exactly pinpoint the source of the pain. I think it was my quads, but it could have just as easily been my knee or my tibia (being that I have no idea where on my body the tibia resides). What was the most worrisome, was the fact that this pain wasn't all that painful, which somehow would've eased my mind. A direct sharp pain, I felt could be worked out, stretched into submission. But this was different. It was a lingering, annoying sort of pain - like something being whispered in your ear while you're sleeping. On the one hand, skipping a run, suddenly became the last thing in the world I wanted to do. On the other hand, I didn't want to injure myself, and not be able to continue training. Somehow I had developed this weird Stockholm Syndrome with my marathon training - I hated it, but I couldn't give it up. Spurned on by my most recent issue of Men's Health sitting in the bathroom and True Lies which I had watched over the weekend, I knew the answer to this problem was simple: Hit the Weights.

As you can imagine, me pumping iron is as antiquated a notion as, well, the term "pumping iron." I get very easily confused on the machines at the gym, and the free weights are like a visceral nightmare for me. But I had to persevere and get to the workout that Men's Health and Josh Duhamel prescribed me.

I immediately realized that I was unprepared, however, because I had left my gold chain at home, and unfortunately, had decided not to gel my hair. I would be a laughing stock. I quickly wondered if I should run to the Wal-Mart across the parking lot from the gym and purchase a pair of extra baggy sweatpants with cargo pockets to avoid mockery, but realized this was too little, too late. Next time I would just grab some Muscle Milk for everyone, and all would be forgiven.

I first did some dumbbell bench presses alternating with pull-ups. I found it ironic that something called the "Belly-Off" Diet, would ask fatties of different proportions to pull themselves up and down a bar. We fat people don't like to hang in the air - it makes everything shift to different, very bad places. This immediately got me thinking of Elementary School Gym class, when we were taking the week long physical fitness test, the only part of which I passed was the sit and reach (I've always been freakishly flexible for someone my size). Mrs. Kuperberg and Mr. Schack would stand up at the class, calling us all up to the pull-up bar one at a time - the boys needed to do 7 to pass the physical fitness test. I had wondered, at the time, whose test this was, and what "passing" it meant? I assume now, as I did then, that it was completely made-up to torture the fatties like me. I haven't grown much as a person since I was nine. My classmates would fail and succeed at different levels (Zee, Lisa, Badee - you know what I'm talking about...), but even though I was a trim 175 pound third grader, and being able to complete a pull-up would be tantamount to curing cancer with my Mr. Wizard Chemistry set. And yet, I was forced to waddle up to the front of the gym, and hang loosely, defiantly on the pull-up bar, my arms out-stretched, my feet nearly on the ground, until the 30 seconds was up.

I wish I could say that this occassion, twenty years later, was different. It wasn't. My first attempt at a pull-up was met by my own snickers as I feel rapidly, holding on to the bars. I thought the momentum of a leap, would give me the added push I needed to get at least one pull-up complete. It wasn't. I then realized that I weigh about 200 pounds, and that if laying flat on a workout bench, I'd be hard pressed to lift 200 pounds, so what made me think adding gravity to the equation would make things easier? There is a facet of the pull-up machine at the gym that allows you a little boost to complete the process. I was able to finish my subsequent sets.

I left the gym, after a 10 minute cool down walk on the treadmill, pleased with my free weight performance, but still this nagging feeling about my prospects of running.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

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Day 42: 9 Down... Way, Way Down

2009-07-31T00:43:00.001-04:00

On Sunday, I was to run 9 miles. It would be the longest run of my career (you'll be hearing that a lot, and very often). I was excited, to be honest, to get that kind of mileage under my belt. It seemed inconceivable to me, almost as if the Dread Pirate Roberts had tricked me into drinking poison. After today, I would have run OVER 1/3 of the entire NYC Marathon. I never thought I would make it this far. Unfortunately, I was right (Isn't that ominous? DUN DUN DUN!).

You ever make a bad mistake, and as you're making it, you almost float outside of your body, and see yourself making it, hear yourself making it, but can't do anything to stop yourself from making it? I must imagine this is what Lindsay Lohan or the NY Mets feel everyday. It's certainly what I felt on Sunday, as I hit the streets for 9 miles.

I knew something was up when I couldn't complete more than one mile at a solid pace. If running is 70% mental, I'm at a major disadvantage, because my biggest proponent is my mother (who wasn't available to ride in her car besides me cheering me on) and my biggest detractor is my own mind. Often times, when I'm running, I just stop - for no particular reason, just cause I wanna. I have to remind myself - to keep going, but something inside my switches off. Several times, I've self-diagnosed myself with Adult Attention Defecit Disorder, but I'm scared of medication, and I'm sure my doctor is still trying to work his mind around the Epstein Bar diagnosis I gave myself fairly recently. This general, eventual ennui, is how I am in every aspect of my life. I feel like Evil Willow: "Bored now."

But this was different. This wasn't me being a quitter (which is something I am, fairly often). My whole body felt like it was locked inside itself, and pretty soon I would start speaking with my fluttering eyelids and paint with my two working toes. This was about 1.5 miles in and I should've probably turned back, realizing that this 9 miles wasn't happening. But my stubborness, rears it's misbegotten head at all the wrong times, and I decided to keep going. Every few songs/miles I would give another go at running, but I was getting a horrible pain in my thigh, and every subsequent step felt like another tear in some imaginary fabric being tentatively held together somewhere inside me.

Jilly, has been sidelined with an injury for the past few weeks, and her NYC Marathon bid is rather tenuous right now. Hopefully, she'll be back on track in another week or so, but I feel terrible for her - and I'm not entirely sure I want to do this without her. Granted, we signed up independently of one another, both in honor of her father, the great Ed Cook, but once I knew she was running the marathon as well, for some reason some of the pressure was off. We were going to do this together. Even if we weren't together on the run (Jilly easily outpaced me with her stupid softball training...), I never felt I could do this more than when I knew she was doing it too. However, her injury has scared the crap out of me - because it was likely that I could face the same problem if I kept pushing myself on this particular run. Once I made that connection, I knew there was no further I could go, running. I was giving up, but hopefully, I was going to struggle to waddle another day. The only problem was... I figured this out 4 miles away from my house, in any direction. Ass.

It's not fair, really. I am so used to skating by on wit and cuteness, that when harsh consequences come deservedly my way, I'm sort of stunned. The consequences of my poor training had finally bit me in the ass - or more specifically in my quad. I could hear some cliche, hardened coach from any based on a true story sports movie yelling: "You didn't respect the mileage!" Now how would I break down racial barriers, get the girl and chant Rudy in the stands? I finally limped home - the 9 miles completed, totally defeated.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

There's Not I In Team - Taking Back Sunday

This Town - OAR

Gold Digger - Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx

If It's Over - Mariah Carey

Come Together (live) - Kris Allen

By Your Side - Sade

Transatlanticism - Death Cab For Cutie

Show Me What You Got - Jay-Z

Bloodshot - Jack's Mannequin

Best I Ever Had - Drake

Love Drunk - Boys Like Girls

Please Don't Leave Me - Pink

Cry Baby (live) - Allison Iraheta

Break Your Heart (live) - Barenaked Ladies

Sugar, We're Going Down - Fall Out Boy

Who's Lovin' You? - Jackson Five

Love Lockdown - Kanye West

Ego (remix) - Beyonce feat. Kanye West

I Only Have Eyes (For You) - The Southland

Now You Tell Me - Jordin Sparks

Dance, Dance - Fall Out Boy

Say It Right - Nelly Furtado

Tonight - Jonas Brothers (this is when full disclosure bites you in the ass)

Sky - Joshua Radin feat. Ingrid Michaelson

This Modern Love - Bloc Party

The '59 Sound - The Gaslight Anthem

The Workout:

9 miles / 2:39:14 / 17:41 per mile / 1,371 calories

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Day 41: 5K Loop

2009-07-30T23:43:00.003-04:00

In accordance with my renewed commitment to that little 26.2 mile jog I've got going on November 1st, I headed to the gym on Saturday to run the prescribed 40 minutes as part of my training plan. The day started off promising enough, I was going to run some quick errands and actually take a run around my neighborhood. No problem. Well, it shouldn't be, right? Not at this point in my marathon training. Well, tell that to my belly.

I feel close with you readers, mostly because I can count the number of you on my hand, so I have no problem explaining to you that I got about 1/4 of a mile around my apartment and then had to run the fastest sprint of my life back to avoid a publicly indecency fine, for pooping in the playhouse my neighbors were selling at their garage sale. Is this an overshare? Probably, but my stomach problems are well-documented - almost historic. When the tummies hit, they hit, and there is (pardon the expression) shit-all anyone can do about it.

After I recovered from my near miss, I headed off to run my errands - these are mostly made up and not nearly as important as they sound - me trying to get someone to go see Orphan with me ; purchasing Watchmen Director's Cut on Blu Ray; finishing "In the Woods" the resplendent debut novel from Tana French which until recently, consumed my entire life. I also decided to take my run into the gym, because I'd be slightly less likely to mess my shorts. Under Armour is expensive, after all.

I didn't have much going for me on the run, and my days/weeks of half-assing my training, was coming up quickly to bite me in the ass. I thought that I would set the treadmill for stun, but that not being an option, I decided to hit the 5K button. I had never run a "5K" before, and this was better than a charity 5K, because it allowed me the opportunity to contemplate all the various ways a person could cut the sleeves out of their t-shirt.

The run was sort of miserable, and I felt every step of it, which I think is a bad sign. I couldn't really concentrate and my feet were landing with a particularly harsh thud. I had to stop to walk slightly more often than normal, and I felt achy all over. I think this is the longest I've ever stuck to something that I've decided to do, fitness wise, and it was starting to take it's toll on me. What if this became a regular habit? What if I started eating organic meat? What if I did sit-ups? Dear God, what if I had 8 servings of fruit a day!?!?! It was too much for me to handle on a single forty minute run - but luckily the nightmare was coming to an end: 5K in 41 minutes - nothing to write home about.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

The Picture:

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Day 40: Let's Take A Long Walk

2009-07-30T23:05:00.006-04:00

Friday hit me like a ton of Nike Shox, and I quickly realized that all the Meggy B. inflicted guilt I was feeling for not keeping my blog up to date, really paled in comparison to the empty promises I made to myself about taking my training a little more seriously. For some reason, even though the 16 stairs at work were still giving me the workout of my life, I wasn't really taking this "marathon training" seriously. I was taking it so Kristin Cavalierly (in the running for the gayest thing I've ever said? You decide!) that I hadn't trained since my triumphant 8 mile run the previous week. I decided towards the end of the week, as I was staring down a 9 mile run with the same grim determination and fear that Amy Winehouse regards a clean pair of underwear, that I would amend this week's training schedule to: Friday - Cross-Training; Saturday - 40 minute run; Sunday: 9 miles.

Luckily, my best friend Carla, and I had a day together planned, which usually involved hijinks and lots of time "regrouping." Carla and I had been best friends since the 8th grade, and as much as it seems that I, a nearly 30 year old man, should be embarrassed about still referring to anyone as a "best friend", I cannot refer to her as anything else. We're best friends. BFFs. Besties. I feel like to refer to her as anything but might give you the impression that she and I have a normal, mature, adult friendship at 28 years old. That would be a lie. And for all the things I am, I am not a liar.

Carla and my friendship started in the 8th grade when the misfit who sat between us in technology was shipped off after getting pregnant. For this, every day I thank God for loose morals, faulty condoms and bad decision making. If it wasn't for some delicious cocktail of those three (with a dash of self-loathing and sluttiness) the nearly cosmic force that is Carla and Ed would never be. And while everyone else who has ever come into contact with us (several retired, disgruntled teachers, our families, our closest friends) might be better off had someone decided to strap on a condom after a midnight screening of Casper at the Broadway Multiplex Cinemas, surely Carla and I would be mere shadows of our current selves, roaming the earth aimlessly, searching for our Hocrux (Harry Potter reference! Nerd alert!).

We've literally been inseparable ever since. The entire basis of my current incarnation of myself is somehow based around her - it was her brother, Steven, my surrogate little brother, The Bean, who passed away from cancer two days after turning sixteen (two weeks before we graduated high school) thus me taking this whole "cancer" thing so seriously. It was in Steven's memory (as well as the memory of my grandparents and in honor of my Tanti (aunt) Annie's battle with cancer), that I founded The Summer Hope Foundation, and subsequently got my job at the American Cancer Society. In Steven's passing, Carla and my already ridiculous relationship, was solidified into something more - in grief, we were bonded forever - a final gift from Steven.

Before you ask - for the five people who read this who don't know Carla & I personally - we dated briefly when we were in college. And when I say briefly, I mean it lasted 5 months, 3 of which she was away at "Seamester" for school. It was a disaster. We had become, without even knowing it, beyond a romantic relationship. Now it's an ongoing joke. Carla is now happily married to a great guy, John - a fact that hasn't stopped our reign of terror. As you can imagine, John is very understanding.

Incidentally, I wanted to go to California for college to be a writer or journalist or something, but when applying to schools, couldn't comprehend the thought of being across the country, while Steven was sick. It's funny how the things in life lead you to where you are.

Thankfully, Carla (all 100 pounds of her) was on a health kick and we did something we've never done before - we walked. We're not very active people to begin with, and we certainly have a tendency to bring out the sloth in one another. But Carla is nothing if not supportive - If I was found in a pool of blood with a knife and a nun's severed head, Carla would swear on all that is holy that the bitch had it coming. She knew I had to do some cross-training that day (and I checked my book and walking counts). John is an outdoorsy kinda guy - hiking, camping, pasteurizing his own milk, that sort of thing, so Carla knew of a path by their house. I find this very annoying, not just because the word Kayak sounds like a vomit noise to me, but it also seems like Jigsaw-level torture.

Carla and I went to the path, which was about .5 miles each way, and we walked in the blistering heat for about an hour. It wasn't a workout that was going down in history anytime soon, but it was in the ballpark of what I was supposed to do that day.

The rest of the day was filled with the usual missteps (all these years later, we can't seem to get anything right - even going to the bank is a process), but we enjoyed ourselves, specifically, looking for ugly things in Home Goods that could be used at Summer Hope's 1st Annual Hope Cup Golf Outing (Carla, naturally, serves on my board). We decided at our last meeting, that at The Hope Cup, there should be a trophy which would get passed around year to year, with the winners names engraved on it. But, of course, it would have to be hideous. Here were our options;

We sent these pictures to my cousin, Mike, an avid Golfer, Summer Hope Board Member and the person running Summer Hope's Golf Tournament. He didn't get back to us. In all fairness, he's sort of sick of us by now...

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Day 35: Crazy 8

2009-07-19T23:29:00.004-04:00

Firstly, I need to dedicate this post to a one Ms. Meggy B. She, an other marathon-runner-in-training, got me back on this blog, after verbally accosting me for my lack of postings. Now, there aren't many things I know about Meggy B. I know she hates the traffic on the LIE. I know she enjoys a good edition of Entertainment Weekly. And I know she loves Run, Fatboy, Run. It was the disappointment that I told myself I saw in her big brown eyes (which was more likely the effects of the several beers we were swigging at a happy hour for Jilly's Marathon Bid for Memorial Sloan-Kettering) that made me realize, I need to keep Run, Fatboy, Fun going. Not just for me, not just for Meggy B., but for the half dozens of people who truly enjoy reading my exploits and mocking me to their friends, families and co-workers. However, as our other friend Allie pointed out quite accurately, if I wasn't posting that meant I was off the wagon. Allie, the wisest girl in any bar at 2 am, couldn't have been more right.

Since the epic 4th of July run that left JJ nearly paralyzed - or with a foot ache - I ended up only getting one run in. My life just kind of overtook my training - and plus my good friends Meggo & Bobbo were getting married in Philly the following weekend. I realized, quickly that my resistance to long distance running would have to take a backseat to increasing my resistance to Bud Lights, otherwise the trek to Philadelphia would be a waste. It wouldn't matter if I was in West Philadelphia. Or I was born and raised there. Or even if on the playground was where I spent most of my days - if I couldn't keep up drinking with the Irish side or the German side of that wedding party, it would be more disappointing than even the slowest marathon time. And look how happy they look:

Then last week, I was recovering from all the celebrating I was doing. Around mid-week, it had dawned on me that everyone I knew, or had my facebook account, knew I was planning on running the NYC Marathon, and I hadn't done a thing to make that ballsy statement a reality in over a week. It all came crashing down on me when a friend of mine, Badee, who I had known since Elementary School, but haven't seen in a couple of years, questioned me about my running the marathon. He ended up congratulating me and hopefully donating to the cause (hint, hint, Badee - haven't gotten your check yet. Deadbeat.), but it was the initial shock in his font via FB that made me realize - oh right, right, right - no one thinks you can do this and they are probably right. I don't fault Badee for being shocked - when our 5th Grade teacher, Mr. Z., would play basketball with the boys during lunch I was either a) reading, b) sneaking my 4th snack of the day under the monkey bars or c) keeping score. I was going to have to get back on track if I ever wanted to live out my fantasy of finding Mr. Z and beating him in a game of one on one. Unfortunately, I could run all the marathons in the world, and I still would have all the hand eye coordination of a blind man, but I digress.

This led to today's epic 8 mile run. It would be the longest I've ever run by a clear mile, and I had only been training intermittently. Also, my dieting had real gone in the crapper, and wasn't helped by the fact that although I wasn't training and not eating great, I was still losing weight. I'm the kind of person who needs negative consequences, not positive reinforcement. I knew I wouldn't be able to squeeze the run in on Saturday, so I planned it for Sunday. My idea was to wake up early and get it over with. I also wanted to start running in the mornings, that way on the day of the marathon, the whole thing doesn't shock me like that first jolt of cold water when you turn on the shower.

However, I had two days from hell at work Friday and Saturday, and ended up sleeping in on Sunday. By the time I was ready to run, it was about noon. Luckily, my cousin Julie called me and reminded me that it was mid-day in mid-July and about to hit 90 degrees outside. As many of you may know, I'm not very smart, so this would've never dawned on me. People think I'm smart because I'm funny, but if you talk as much as I do, you're bound to say a couple of clever things. Just like people think that I'm friendly because I like to talk - not friendly, just chatty. Remember that if you see me in the street.

Normally, this hiccup would result in a day of lounging on the couch, but I thought of how disappointed Meggy B. would be and I decided to head to the gym, and the sanctuary of meatheads, lycra and air conditioning. I hate running on the treadmills, but it had to be done. At least this way I could look around and figure out what I might want my neck tattoo to say one day.

The run was sort of miserable - and those negative consequences I wanted so desperately, were more than I could hope for. A few times, even though Planet Fitness is a "No Judgement Zone", I couldn't help but notice that people were looking at me in disgust. You see, Planet Fitness also has a "Junk Alarm", which is to make sure people aren't being gross and grunting. But some of the primitive screeches I was letting out towards the end of my run, were female tennis player caliber. If I wasn't so sure I was going to die and never see any of these people again, I would've cared a little more.

As luck would have it, not only did I not get thrown out of the gym and have my membership revoked, but I finished the 8 miles in record time... for me.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Chelsea Dagger - The Fratellis
Dance, Dance - Fall Out Boy
Come Together (live) - Kris Allen
Black Or White - Michael Jackson
This Modern Love - Bloc Party
Numb/Encore - Linkin Park & Jay-Z
Who's Lovin' You - The Jackson 5
Permanent (live) - David Cook
Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship & Leighton Meester
Since U Been Gone (live) - Kelly Clarkson
What Sarah Said - Death Cab For Cutie
Flathead - The Fratellis
My Hero - Foo Fighters
Sic Transit Gloria ... Glory Fades - Brand New
Dirty Diana - Michael Jackson
Man in the Mirror - Michael Jackson
Home - Foo Fighters
Got to Be There - Michael Jackson
Banquet - Bloc Party
My Love - Justin Timberlake feat. T.I.

The Food:

Starting tomorrow, I'm keeping much better track...

The Workout:

The Picture:

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Day 20: Fireworks

2009-07-04T23:48:00.006-04:00

To celebrate our fine nation's independence I shipped up to the suburbs of Boston to my spend the 4th with my second family at the Lambo compound. I thought heading to my New England comrades would be the best way to get my Yankee Doodle Dandy on as I envisioned spending the weekend dumping tea in Boston Harbor and drinking Natty Ice cans out of a styrofoam cooler, while singing God Bless America at the top of my lungs from a porch. I thought there was nothing more American than this, but then realized I could do both of things while wearing a sleeveless shirt that said MADE IN THE U.S. with arrows pointing both to my penis and my face. You're welcome, America.

However, there is more to this great holiday than just masturbatory fantasies of Betsy Ross' Bald Eagle and a strategically placed American Flag. Unfortunately, there was also a matter of a 7 mile long run on this our nation's birth. This would be the longest run of my incredibly underactive life thus far, and I was a bit nervous.

I drove up on Friday after, once again, skipping my work out. My friend, Mish, was heading up to her father and stepmother, NIck & JJ's house outisde of Boston with her boyfriend New Scott. She would be joined by 3/4 of the Lambo children - her twin sister Cindy and brother Jimmy - along with Jim's wife Robbo and their two kids, my fake nephews, 2 1/2 year old Tyler and 3 month old Bryce. Mishy told me earlier in the week and I quickly invited myself. I could use some quality time with my fake family, and plus, they like me more than Mish, so it's always a good confidence boost when I'm up here.

When I arrived, just in time for Sammy the Dog's 11th birthday (complete with cake, special bandana and multiple birthday songs), I made the mistake of telling JJ that I needed to go for a 7 mile run on Saturday morning. JJ is much younger than Nick, and incredibly active. Not to say that Nick isn't. Crap. I'm going to get cut out of the will. Oh well. She's the type of workout junkie who will talk you into a quick 2 mile bike ride, and all of a sudden before you realize it a Canadian Mountie is offering you a piece of beef jerky and tickets to a Maple Leafs game.

Her face immediately lit up when telling her this, but the family all unanimously winced upon me mentioning physical activity to JJ. She was delighted, because it wasn't often that someone volunteered for her particular brand of torture - none the less me, the least active of the extended family. Nick just about said his goodbyes to me at this point, and I feared that young Tyler and Bryce would never get to know their Fake Uncle Eddie, who was currently in the process of buying their affection with unnecessary gifts.

JJ for her part was concerned, rightfully so, that I was going to leave in the morning without her, and threatened to set the alarms in the house so that I couldn't escape. Knowing when I was beat, I essentially made her sign a contract in blood, stating that I would be dictating the terms of the run - which involved numerous stops for walking and stretching. She was amenable, but no one was convinced that I was going to come back alive.

Upon waking up and downing a half glass of Orange Juice, JJ and I headed out, while Jimmy and Nick played Taps on the bagpipes, and called my parents to apologize in advance for the Blair Witch-style disappearance of the heir apparent to the Mouradian throne.

I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by JJ and her easygoing attitude on the run. She took me the nearby beaches where we ran on the road along side some beautiful views of the greater Boston area. This was one of the first time's that I had actually ran with a partner, mostly because I just don't think I'm at that level of fitness, and I don't want to drag anyone else down to my level. This may also explain why I'm single. Womp, womp, womp. But JJ was a great running partner - supportive, motivational, and most importantly, carried my water and wipes so I could manage the buckets of sweat pouring off of me. There were a couple of times that she ran ahead and had to wait for me, but other than that, I kept up pretty well with her, and found it oddly reassuring that there was someone there with me to make sure I made it out of this running hell I had created for myself.

And, by the end of the 7 miles, I was feeling pretty good. Around mile 5, in fact, I was feeling great, and for the first time I think I felt that elusive runner's high that I thought was a euphemism for hotboxing after a run. In fact, I went into an all out sprint for the last half a mile, a mistake, being that we were already at our car and I had to run around the parking lot a couple of times in order to reach my mileage. I also couldn't help but think about the fact that after today I ran more than a half marathon and more than a quarter of the marathon. I started thinking, for the first time, "I could do this four more times... not right now... not tomorrow, but eventually."

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

In my last homage to Michael Jackson, I decided to run to the vocal stylings of the late, great King of Pop. Something about hearing his music inspired me to run, but also, not die a decrepit weirdo. I did need a little boost for that half mile sprint and hit the Power Song Button on my Nike + iPod chip for Foo Fighter's Best of You, which foolishly makes me think I can do anything.

Billie Jean
Whatever Happens
Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'
You Rock My World
Remember the Time
You Are Not Alone
I Want You Back
Got to Be There
Dancing Machine
Never Can Say Goodbye
Butterflies
ABC
Thriller
Beat It
Bad
Give In to Me (thank you Allison Iraheta)
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
Smooth Criminal
Scream
Best of You - Foo Fighters

The Food:

I haven't been keeping close track of my food in take, but I ate alright today, considering the big run I went on. I could've done without the bagel at 10:30 pm - but it's a holiday and I don't want to hear any crap.

The Workout:

7 miles / 1:27:56 / 12:32 min/mile / 1101 calories

The Picture:

Oh and this is JJ - immediately after our 7 mile run.

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Day 17: Staycation Blues

2009-07-03T22:36:00.005-04:00

You would think a week's vacation would give me all the time in the world to do the things I need to get done: Clean my apartment, finish putting my comic books to rest on eBay and, of course, creating the perfect Michael Jackson Memorial Playlist (Who Is It? vs. Never Can Say Goodbye - it's like a slightly more painful Sophie's Choice). I also assumed, that all this free time would make working out and training for the marathon a cinch. In the words of Cady Heron's inner-monologue, I was wrong. So wrong.

For some reason the freedom that comes along with a week off of work and no vacation plans is too much for this tugboat to haul. I spent day after day alternating naps with errands ranging from returning two more Nike + iPod chips (MUHAHAHAHA!) to finally getting around to building that ark (ZING! How about that rain!?!?! Am I right or am I right?). I spent a lot of time with my BFFL Carla before her and her husband John's trip to Iceland this week (I envision them riding a sea otter with Bjork on a rainbow), but our adventures usually start well intentioned, and end with us at the tail end of a five hour bender realizing we haven't gotten anything done. Think "The Hangover" minus the buzz. So Monday went. Then Tuesday. Then, gulp, Wednesday. I realize that if I didn't get a hold of myself, I might fall so far off the wagon that I would never be able to see the end of the marathon glory. By Thursday, I knew if I didn't run, I'd never run again. I'd be a white, male version of Julia Stiles in "Save the Last Dance", only I would have a clear distinction between my calves and my ankles. And without a sassy black love interest to get my back on the pavement, there'd be no way for me to every resume my training. I knew I couldn't do allow myself to fail like that. No one wanted to see what mestar in the "Prince and Me."

So Thursday, I strapped my shoes back on and, like the Doobie Brothers and Taylor Hicks before me, I took to the street (I'm on random pop culture reference overload!). After getting some heat from Carla about the perils of running on the service road of the Long Island Expressway, I headed to the local Starbucks, parked my car and started to run. Then I walked. Then I ran. It was an okay run, nothing special about my performance. Sadly, that's not the first time I've felt that way about my performance, but at least this time I didn't have the smeared lipstick on my shirt and the stench of a walk of shame to confirm it. Double sigh.

The best part about the run was that I stumbled upon a path that I might check out on my next run. For some reason, the town of Ronkonkoma is lousy with gazebos. I don't know why but they are everywhere. They are so abundant, that Michelle, my work wife and I, have an elaborate plan to buy engraved bricks at each of the gazebos and write something ridiculous on them. Yes, kids, that's the kind of thing you think is absolutely hilarious when you reach your late twenties. Kill me. Anyway, as I was panting and gasping for air, I saw that one of these gazebos had a cement path around it, so I thought I'd take a detour. Once I did, however, there was a cement path leading up a hill, to an entire field - some kind of recreation center. I took the path around the field, and noticed several dirt paths leading into the woods. I didn't have the time of stamina to go exploring, but I think that will be the site of my next run, where I hope to lose my Running Virginity. Running Virginity? That's when you run through the woods on a slightly rainy day and come across a beautiful woman who is stretching out her quads after a tough run. No one's around so you ravage her up against a tree - poison ivy be damned! Isn't that what happens on runs when you head into a wooded area? Isn't that why so many people run?

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Use Somebody - Kings of Leon
Several Ways to Die Trying - Dashboard Confessional
When Love Takes Over - David Guetta feat. Kelly Rowland
Knock You Down - Keri Hilson
Man in the Mirror (live) - Kris Allen
Sink Into Me - Taking Back Sunday
Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson
Oh Sherrie - Steve Perry
Who I Am Hates Who I've Been - Relient K

The Food:

One of the things that have gone by the wayside while on staycation - keeping track of my food. Fortunately, I've been having some crippling stomach pains this week, and really haven't been eating much. I'll get back on this starting Monday.

The Workout:

2.73 miles / 35:38 minutes / 13:04 per mile / 428 Calories.
I was supposed to run 40 minutes, but made it back to my car in 35:38 - sue me.

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Day 13: Back on the Wagon

2009-06-29T14:42:00.002-04:00

As you'll notice, when these postings start getting sporadic that means, that I'm falling off the wagon. I realize that is an overly dramatic way of saying "fat" or "hungry" or "lazy" but my addiction to my couch, NYC Prep and Domino's Pasta Bread Bowls is no less severe, dangerous and all consuming than a drug addict's addiction to prescription pain meds. Look at how that ended for Michael Jackson... Too soon?

To be fair, in a sea of unrealistic goals that I've set for myself, thinking that I was capable of posting updates on my marathon training is much more ludicrous than thinking I'm capable of running 26.2 miles. I continued working out Tuesday and Wednesday, but Thursday and Friday took a pass, while swapping my Saturday long run for Sunday. In addition to skipping those workouts, I decided to eat everyday like I was being served my final meal before hitting the gas chamber. It was a real mess. If Courtney Love had found me face down in a pool of spray can cheddar cheese, she would've been grateful that her life was so well put together. But as I've learned over the last 28 years of shopping in the husky department (damn, you Kids R Us, for your segregation!) it's not what happens when you slip, it's how quickly you get back up. I know that seems very Oprah of me, but every time I've attempted to get into shape or diet, the second I slip up, it's all over. This time, it was different. After taking three days of hedonism off, I went on my second long run of my marathon training.

Before I get into the embarrassing details, I'd like to give a couple of shout outs: 1) To Meggy B., a mutual friend of mine and running buddy/enabler Jilly, for taking the marathon plunge, as well, this year! She's all signed up to run the marathon for Charity Runner, via the American Cancer Society. Check out her page and donate to support her run: http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/DetermiNation/CRFY09Eastern?px=12098172&pg=personal&fr_id=19037

2) I got my very first fan mail! A friend of a friend of a friend saw my post on a Facebook wall, and gave me some great running tips and awesome song suggestions. Obviously, I already think that I am a well-known local celebrity, but now i have a burgeoning fan base in Pennsylvania. So for that, I thank you Maria, wherever you are!

Sunday morning, I awoke in the Hamptons at my cousin, Johnny & Jessica's house, by their six year old daughter Jackie at 7 am, who along with stealing a few hours sleep has also stolen my heart. My cousin's wife Jessica, was going on a run with my cousin Julie and aunt Taki, that I was supposed to join them on. It wasn't happening. This led me to believe that the likelihood of getting back on the training train, would be impossible. However, I've decided that I'm not yet comfortable running with other people, as I don't quite think I'm up to par with other runners. Telling people how badly I suck at running is one thing - them seeing it is quite another.

My sister Lola and I left Johnny & Jess' rather abruptly, as my stomach had been doing back flips since the previous night's hamburgers (which were delicious, I just should realize that properly digesting food, is no longer in my skillset). I got home and immediately took a nap, as has been my motif everyday this week now that my events at work are over. I awoke around 5 pm, and bummed around the house, for hours until I realized if I didn't run today, I would never run again. And then I'd never run the marathon. And I'd be a failure. And I would never lose weight. And I'd never find a girlfriend, get married or have kids. And I'd default on my student loans. And never solve the energy crisis. I realized, it was in the best interest of the country, or even the world, for me to just strap on my new shoes (bought them on Wednesday - siiiiiick) and head to the streets.

And so I did. There are no really great places to run by my apartment, but realized that I could literally waste the rest of the night trying to figure out the perfect running path. So I laced my Nike + iPod chip into my sneakers (suck it, Apple!) and decided to just run on the shoulder of the service road of the expressway, which happened to be outside my apartment.

It was a six mile long run, by far the furthest I'd ever run. This past week, I had been pushing myself to a 12 minute mile, which is a pace that I'd ultimately like to keep at the marathon. However, I knew that wouldn't be realistic in my second week of training. I've also decided that my grim determination on running this marathon would have to be altered. It's great to picture myself as Ryan Reynolds, but the truth of the matter is I'm more of a Paul Giamatti. I just want to FINISH the marathon. WIth that mindset, some of the pressure has been lifted.

I also don't think planning to RUN 26.2 miles is really likely. It'd be great. But let's be honest, I'm going to have to walk. Things might change as I continue to lose weight, but I'm not too sure. Those two new asterisks added to my mental training guide, I decided to pace myself based on music. Run two songs, walk one song. Run one song, walk one song. Run until the next mile is completed. Etc.

It worked out okay. I forgot to stretch, and hadn't really drank any water or eaten anything all day, which looking back was sort of dangerous. It resulted in a very so-so 13:48 average mile. It's slightly faster than I had been running, but way above the 12 minute miles I was putting up at the gym earlier in the week. But at least I saw improvement. Next week's 7 miler, I'm hoping for something closer to a 13 minute mile.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Bloodshot - Jack's Mannequin
My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
Real Love (remix) - Mary J. Blige
Revelry - Kings of Leon
Dreaming With a Broken Heart - John Mayer
Several Ways to Die Trying - Dashboard Confessional
SexyBack - Justin Timberlake
Know Your Enemy - Green Day
Outta Here - Esmee Denters
I Want You - Kings of Leone
Last Nite - The Strokes
Now You Tell Me - Jordin Sparks
Sober - Kelly Clarkson
MFEO - Jack's Mannequin
I Will Never Be The Same - Melissa Etheridge
Ego (remix) - Beyonce
Get Back - Demi Lovato
Come On Get Higher - Matt Nathanson

The Workout:

6.01 miles / 1:23:05 / 13:48 per mile / 945 Calories burned

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Day 8: Lucky No. 13

2009-06-23T13:24:00.006-04:00

With one full-week of marathon training under the flap of fat that sticks over my belt, I was feeling pretty confident about my 40 minutes of running that I had to accomplish today, even though my first long run was a near disaster. First, I'd like to report the most stunning news since the announcement of Jon & Kate Plus Eight on Alternating Weekends. My beef with iPod + Nike is officially over. Or at least temporarily suspended. Thanks to Tata, and a running store in Hoboken, NJ, I've been using my iPod + Nike chip with my new iPhone with very little drama. Granted the thing has yet to properly calibrate, but I hope to remedy that with Tuesday's workout. I will, of course, keep you posted. Second, I really like the new Mariah Carey song. Third, I had a kick-ass workout on Monday.

Like I said, I was feeling deceptively good about my work out prospects on Monday. For the first time all week, I wasn't dreading the workout, as if it were something that some evil person forced upon me like torture or the Kardashian Family. I really felt like this was the first work out I was in some small way looking forward to. It was also the first time during the week that getting up and down from the seated position didn't feel like a thousand Spider Monkeys biting at my groin. So that was a plus. All that and I had finally solved the chaffing issue - which I assume was the elephant in the room no one wanted to talk about (solution=Under Armour underwear, in case you were wondering or fantasizing).

Of course, as with anything with me, there were a few hurdles to overcome. This week, being sort of a wrap-up week at work (and the week before my much needed staycation), I was able to leave early. This should've led to an earlier work out, but instead led to a nap from 2:30 pm - 6:30 pm. I'm a big napper - it's the one thing I'm good at - and this one was epic. It started slowly and subtly at the couch, before I dragged myself into bed and full-on under my covers. Four hours later it took all the will I could muster, because I very much got the impression that I could've slept through the night if I didn't force myself out of bed.

Upon arising, I dicked around for a few hours, until I realized it was after 9:30 pm and I still hadn't head out on the road. Since my area is pretty dark, and I'm still pretty new to it, I decided to head to the gym. I'll admit, I did start my workout walking on the treadmill and making a playlist. After that, I decided, just for kicks, to set the speed on the treadmill to an average pace of 12 minutes per mile, which is 2 minutes faster than I've been running. I thought it would last one song, perhaps two. However, I kept the pace for the remaining 30 minutes of the workout, running two 12-minute miles, for a total of just over 3 miles and an average pace of 13 minutes per mile. Now this isn't very impressive to the outsider, but hopefully to those of you who have been reading along at home (hi mom!), you see the strides I'm making. Now granted, it took just about all my strength and energy to make this run happen, and to last the entirety of it, but it's much closer to a respectable time. If I can get myself to an average pace of 12 minutes per mile, I'd be a happy boy running the marathon in 5 hours and 15 minutes. We'll see how the rest of the week goes...

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:
I was in a very contemplative mood Monday, I don't know why. My songs are all sort of downers, but apparently it was the right kind of motivation.

Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutie
Up to the Mountain (live) - Kelly Clarkson
Break Your Heart (live) - Barenaked Ladies
To Love Somebody - The Bee Gees
One - Mary J. Blige feat. U2
Save You - Kelly Clarkson
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
Sometime Around Midnight - The Airborne Toxic Event

The Food:

926 less calories than personalized USDA DRI + 321 average burn with activities = 1247 total daily calorie loss

Bottom Line: You consumed 2185 and burned 321 calories. Your daily calorie loss of 1247 calories exceeds the planned calorie loss by 205 calories. At this rate you will be losing about 5¾oz daily, or about 2.5lb each week, or about 10.7lb monthly.

Day Highlights

You've burned 321.0 calories!
Congratulations: 12g of sat fat is less than 7% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Congratulations: 0g of trans fat is less than 1% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Low cholesterol: 159mg, staying under 300mg.
You consumed 4338mg of sodium; the recommended range is 1,500 - 2,300mg.

The Workout:

The Video:

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Day 7: The Long and Winding Run

2009-06-22T21:08:00.002-04:00

Sunday was my first long run. Something about long and run don't quite flow freely from my lips, so I'd really like to call it my first Bunny Snuggle, or some such thing. But no matter what I try to do, there's no denying the fact that I am, like or not, training for a marathon, and that long runs will be involved. It's an ugly truth that there is just no denying.

I had delusions of grandeur this past weekend, when I signed up to run a 5 mile Prostate Cancer charity run at Central Park for Father's Day with Jilly. After a misadventure driving into the city on Friday to register for the race, I realized late Saturday night that a 7 am trip into Manhattan was never going to happen.

Saturday, I had my last Relay For Life event, and I spent the bulk of the day (12 hours-plus) in the rain on a field at a Unitarian congregation (I love my job, but it can be a little weird at times). By the time I got home it was after midnight and I realized that this long run was going to have to take place somewhere that, unfortunately, wasn't supporting prostate cancer. It was a blow to colonoscopies everywhere, but it was necessary. There was no way I'd be able to wake up, none the less run.

Being that I was expected in Hicksville at my parents house to wish Big Ed a happy Father's Day, I decided to take the path at Cedar Creek Park that follows the Wantagh Parkway to Jones Beach. The rain was coming and going and I thought it would be just the kind of quasi-movie moment I needed for inspiration.

The run was okay. I'm just not in good shape. That's the bottom line here. I struggled after the second mile and I walked, possibly more than I ran. At this point, I'm realizing how much this is a mental game. I realize that more often than not, I'm stopping, because something clicks in my mind. Regardless, I was still on my 14 minute mile pace for 5 miles, which again, is nothing to brag about, but if I keep that bare minimum, I'll still finish the marathon in under 6 1/2 hours. My goal is to run something closer to a 12 minute mile. Sorry, I don't have a ton of funny things to say today...

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Feeling Good (live) - Adam Lambert
Besides being an embarrassingly huge fan of American Idol, I enjoy running to American Idol songs, because they are short and it helps with my attention span. I felt I needed to justify the existence of this on my iPod.

I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson
Knock You Down - Keri Hilson
When Love Takes Over - Kelly Rowland
No Boundaries - Kris Allen
There's really no excuse for this one though...
All These Things That I've Done - The Killers
Save You - Kelly Clarkson
Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship & Leighton Meester
Don't Stop Believin' - The Glee Cast
Under Control - Parachute
Now You Tell Me - Jordin Sparks
I Know, I Know, I Know - Tegan & Sara
Sometime Around Midnight - The Airborne Toxic Event

The Food:

1466 less calories than personalized USDA DRI + 804 average burn with activities = 2270 total daily calorie loss

Bottom Line: you consumed 1645 and burned 804 calories. Your daily calorie loss of 2270 calories exceeds the planned calorie loss by 1183 calories.

At this rate you will be losing about 11oz daily, or about 4.5lb each week, or about 19.5lb monthly.

Day Highlights

You've burned 804.0 calories!
Congratulations: 6g of sat fat is less than 7% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Congratulations: 0g of trans fat is less than 1% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Low cholesterol: 172mg, staying under 300mg.
Low sodium: 1810mg of sodium, staying under 2,300mg.
Include at least 5 grams of fiber in your breakfast to help meet fiber and weight control goals.

The Workout:

5 miles / 14 minute-miles

The Picture:

NOPE!

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Day 5 & 6: The Beginning of the End?

2009-06-21T12:46:00.003-04:00

Look, world, I have the Tummies. Get off my back. I'm only human! Starting Thursday night around midnight (after my Long Beach run when I visited Kerry, my Lil' Buddy, at her apt. and had a snack of PB & saltines) through most of Friday and Saturday, I had some major stomach cramping. This is something that happens fairly often to me, the cause of which is unknown (although, I currently suspect sympathy food aversions, since my work wife, Michelle is pregnant). Something I'm eating causes my stomach and intestines to basically close-up shop for a few hours, and leads me to feel what I can only assume is what Gizmo feels just before the Gremlins start popping out of his body. Anyone who knows me knows how terrifying this is for me, as Gremlins are my greatest fear. This malady led me to skip my Friday workout, because I didn't eat anything all day Friday, for fear of angering the Tummy Gods with another stomach cramping episode. Saturday's 5-mile long run, I switched with Sunday's rest day. I had my LAST Relay For Life event on Saturday (congratulations, Manhasset!) and was up on my feet running around a soggy field for 12 hours. My first long run, gulp, we'll see how it goes! I also hope that you all appreciate how open and honest this blog is and how little shame I have.

Day 4: Beachside

2009-06-21T11:05:00.003-04:00

It was a mediocre day in the life of training, when I had to run my fourth day of training. It was Thursday and I had a meeting in the afternoon, a meeting that evening and an early meeting on Friday. I'm SOOOOO busy! So when faced with the prospect of another day of running, I knew I'd need that little something extra. I thought that perhaps I'd ask Mr. Softee to drive slowly in front of me for 40 minutes, the siren song of his ice cream truck just out of my grasp. I realized that was unlikely, as I'd never find a Mr. Softee that amenable to my plight. In search of another option, I decided I just needed a scenery change - I decided to head south to my old stomping grounds of Long Beach, to take a run by the beach.

This was my last first run of the training that took place outdoors, and I was convinced that it would be my best run yet. I was wrong. Firstly, my iPod + Nike chip was, you guessed it, not working, so I was immediately sent off the deep-end. I hoped that my rage would carry me through the bulk of my run, but all I kept focusing on was the down payment I had spent on these damned chips. Like most things in my life, I started off strong, but faded quickly (read into that what you will). I also realized something I had long suspected - I have absolutely no running technique.

When I run in the gym, I strategically place myself on a treadmill that is nowhere near a mirror. In everyone way that I am vain, seeing myself nearly have a heart attack is something I don't really need to watch. I don't want to know how bad I am at this, and I end up feeling bad for the people in the gym who have to be involved in watching me struggle. It's sort of the same way I feel about making a sex tape. Plus, there are no flattering angles.

However, as I was trotting down the boardwalk on Long Beach, I ran by a building with windows and caught my reflection. What I saw nearly stopped me in my meager tracks in shock. I looked like what I can only describe as a descendent of Godzilla, stomping around the Long Beach boardwalk. It made so much sense that the old Japanese couple bolted to the other side of the boardwalk when they saw me coming - and why Mothra wouldn't leave me alone. I don't so much run as I stomp. I feel like I should be shouting Fe Fi Fo Fum as I come storming down the road.

To remedy this, I sort of suspected that my form was a little off, but not to that extent. I worked on actively correcting it. The problem with that was that it forces me to move at a faster pace, which I'm not really ready for, physically. Although my form improved, I could only keep that up for a few minutes (approximately, one song) until I'd have to work for a few minutes (approximately, one song). I felt utterly defeated. This was the first time I had walked during a run for the entire week of training, and considered myself an epic failure. Perhaps that's a little harsh for an overweight (technically obese), out-of-shape/never-in-shape guy who is training for a marathon on a whim, but it still hurt.

However, by the time, the forty minutes was up (I was already on my way to my car), I had actually gone over 3 miles, and was at my usual 14-minute-mile pace. Which bucked me up a little bit. As this week winds down, I'm thinking next week's training will incorporate this run/walk schedule, until I get a little surer on my feet. I wonder if it might actually improve my time. We shall see.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

I have no idea. My iPod crapped out.

The Food:

Day energy balance:357 less calories than personalized USDA DRI + 536 average burn with activities = 893 total daily
calorie loss Bottom Line: you consumed 2771 and burned 536 calories. To meet your plan of 2530 calories (losing 1079 calories) you need to exercise more by 186 calories.

At this rate you will be losing about 4¾oz daily, or about 1.8lb each week, or about 7.7lb monthly.

Day Highlights

You've burned 536.0 calories!
Congratulations: 0g of trans fat is less than 1% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Low cholesterol: 243mg, staying under 300mg.
29g of sat fat provided more than 7% of calories. Keeping it lower will reduce risk of heart desease.
You consumed 5081mg of sodium; the recommended range is 1,500 - 2,300mg.

My sodium in-take is ridiculous.

The Workout:

45 minutes, about 3.2 miles - 14-minute mile pace.

The Picture:

My new iPhone doesn't have a flash. Sorry =(

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Day 3: Calves of Steel

2009-06-18T11:49:00.005-04:00

This is the last busy week of work, with my events wrapping up this weekend, so it's been a little difficult fitting in training with the motivational propaganda of my day-to-day work life. Yesterday was a prime example. After I went and bought my 5th, and so-help-me-God-I-will-go-to-Cupertino-and-murder-someone-if-I-have-to-buy-another-one final iPod + Nike chip I had a meeting to get to from 7 pm until whenever. Not exactly conducive to marathon training. Nor the new 6-day a week full-body workout I've decided to add. Please see my initial post about failing or succeeding on big levels.

After the last few days, I had decided that I must, must hit the road to run, and not be stuck in the gym. So I went to Dick's Sporting Goods to buy some contraption to put the iPod + Nike chip into. Granted, it felt a little counterintuitive to try to purchase something to support the iPod + Nike chip, since the inanimate object has, over the past few days, become my archnemesis. I now totally understand everything that John Connor feels when battling the Terminators. I asked a young gentleman at the store where one could find a iPod + Nike chip condom, and he informed me that not only did no major stores carry them, that they are sort of illegal (Apple owns the patent - I don't know for what, possibly anything that is oval-shaped) to sell. Whoops.

Since, I am a big fan of spending money I don't actually have unnecessarily (I could actually be the poster-child for the country's current economic crisis) I thought this might be a great time to buy a pair of Nikes. This would solve multiple problems - it would get me some new running sneakers, which I'm actually in desperate need of. I would be able to securely store the Nike + iPod chip comfortably - I like to keep my friends close, and my enemies closer. However, I know that Nikes are terrible for running - I've tried before, and it ended with shin splints and general feelings of anger and resentment. In a shocking change of events I decided to buy the black market chip condom and forsake the $200 sneakers that feel like cement blocks. Score one for internal growth.

With that detour out of the way, I made it to the gym. It was too late and cold to run outside - and I was ill-prepared. I did have a shirt, a pair of shorts, extra running shoes and a sweatshirt in the car, but incidentally, no running route. To the gym I went. The treadmill was a little rough, and I felt a little deleted when I had to walk (at a brisk pace) for a minute at a time for five minutes. I was vindicated however, but running a few minutes at a faster pace (this is generally why I like to run on the road instead of the gym) and still ended up running the 40 minutes at an average pace of just over 14-minutes per mile. Granted, this isn't bragging, it just is. I'm hoping next week to run slightly faster, but right now I'm just trying to get used to running for that amount of time. Realistically, my goal is to run at a 12 - 13 minute-mile pace which would put me between 5 1/2 - 6 hour marathon pace. Even more realistically, I just want to finish the damn thing before they stop giving out medals, and it's just my mom and my sister in the dark waiting for me with flashlights at the finish line.

After the 40 minutes, I did 4 speed drills. I love a good sprint, because despite my size, I'm pretty fast. Anyone who has met either myself, my father or my grandmother, knows that, in the words of my little buddy, Kerry Cook, our calves are sculpted from granite, (as opposed to the rest of our bodies that are molded from Jell-O). I ran 30 seconds at a 7.0, walked for a minute / 30 seconds at a 7.5, walked for a minute / ran 30 seconds at an 8.0, walked for a minute / ran 40 seconds at an 8.5, walked for a minute / died from exhaustion.

Realizing that running is only going to get me so far, I've adopted an 8-week full-body training program, assuming that the less I weigh, the easier it'll be to haul myself 26.2 miles. This was the first day and it involved two circuits of 10 reps of each exercise (squats, dumbbell bench press, dumbbell lunges, seated cable rows, One-Leg Dumbbell Calf Raises, 20 crunches). I'm not a big weight-lifting guy, and I've always been particularly self-conscious about using the machines/weights at the gym. I just assume that everyone there is staring at you, silently judging how much you could bench or your lack of knowledge as to form, conduct, etc. My worst fear would be for someone - a trainer or a fellow gym rat - to come up to me and tell me I was doing something wrong. My only course of action at that point would be to leave the gym and never return. And that's just a bad investment. But a couple of years ago, I did pay an astronomical amount of money for a trainer, and thanks to Wally (his name was actually, Rich, but we called him Wally in my office - for no discernible reason), I have a much better understanding of what I'm doing. Thanks, Wally! Furthermore, I realized that no one cares about anyone other themselves or the exceptionally attractive at the gym. Flying under radar at the gym is one of the very few perks of being out of shape.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:

Several Ways to Die Trying - Dashboard Confessional
I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked - Ida Maria
One - Mary J. Blige feat. U2
Don't Stop Believin' - The Cast of Glee
Sequestered In Memphis - The Hold Steady
Dance, Dance - Fall Out Boy
Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson
Know Your Enemy - Green Day
The '59 Sound - The Gaslight Anthem
Oh Sherrie - Steve Perry
Break Your Heart (live) - Barenaked Ladies

The Food:

Day energy balance:766 less calories than personalized USDA DRI + 626 average burn with activities = 1392 total daily
calorie loss

Bottom Line: you consumed 2362 and burned 626 calories. Your daily calorie loss of 1392 calories exceeds the planned calorie loss by 337 calories. At this rate you will be losing about 7oz daily, or about 2.8lb each week, or about 11.9lb monthly.

Day Highlights

You've burned 626.0 calories!
You had more than 38g of dietary fiber recommended for men up to age 50.
Congratulations: 7g of sat fat is less than 7% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Congratulations: 0g of trans fat is less than 1% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Low cholesterol: 68mg, staying under 300mg.
Include at least 5 grams of fiber in your breakfast to help meet fiber and weight control goals.
You consumed 2837mg of sodium; the recommended range is 1,500 - 2,300mg.

The Workout:

Time: 40:13 seconds
Avg. Min/Mile: 14:17
Mileage: 2.84
Calories: 382

I do think, however, the treadmill needs to redefine it's definition of the word "great":

The Picture:

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Day 2: You're Never Going to Believe This...

2009-06-17T16:40:00.003-04:00

Day 2 of my training was an even bigger disaster than my first day. I realize at this point I sound a bit like Debbie Downer (Eddie Irritable?), but I really have yet to catch a break. And so, begins the next chapter in the saga of Eddie vs. the Nike + iPod Running Chip. I am a big fan of running outside. Firstly, for training purposes, it's easier to pace yourself on an outdoor run, rather than having to keep a steady pace on a treadmill. Secondly, I'm not a huge fan of the gym. Beyond my own personal self-confidence issues and gym etiquette ineptitude (so what you're saying is that I have to wipe down my bench, but it's cool to wear mesh tank tops and spandex? Something about that seems off...), is the dingy, dirty feeling I get whenever I go to the gym. It's not the fault of Planet Fitness - they run a nice operation - but every time I leave my gym workout, I feel like I need a shot of penicillin to ward off the STDs I've inevitably contracted from merely touching the same equipment as the gentlemen working on their upcoming gun show, and the ladies who seem a little too at home on the machines that work their thigh muscles.

This is why I invested in the Nike + iPod running chip. It is quite simple: you put the chip in your shoe and attach another chip to your iPod Nano and it will keep track of your pace, mileage and calories burned. Delightful, no? I bought my first Nike running chip 2 years ago. I lost it. Not surprising. I then bought a replacement chip. It broke. I purchased another chip a couple of months ago. I went for one run with it and the chip fell out of my shoe. As luck would have it, I found it on the street but it wasn't working. As marathon training approached, Jilly picked one up for me at the Nike Factory outlet. I attempted using it for the first time on my first day of training - and it didn't work. So on Day 2, I traveled at lunch all the way to Best Buy and bought a new chip. I also bought a special watch that you wear to control the music selection on your iPod, thus eliminating the need to move my arm the 6 inches to the left to change songs. Phew.

So four chips down, but I'm feeling good. I'm going to cross-train today at the gym, but first let me calibrate this brand new chip. I walk for .25 miles and it's telling me I'm moving at a 17 - 19 minute mile pace, which is accurate. Great. It's working! Victory! I then decide that since it only takes a 1/4 mile to calibrate the chip for a run (you have to calibrate for both walking and running, separately), I'd show off my Day 2 running skills and run an 8-speed on the treadmill for 1/4 mile (which is roughly a 7 minute mile. Great. Running and calibrating like a champ. Feeling good! I look at the iPod and it's at .19 of .25. No problem. I look again in a minute, and it's still at .19. WTF!?!?! The chip had flown off while I was running! Not 6 hours after I bought it! To make matters worse, I wouldn't accept the fact that it was gone. So I'm walking around the treadmills like a maniac looking under people's machines. I walked around like a madman for a good 15 minutes making several people uncomfortable, before deciding that this was the kind of roadblock which normally result in me giving up. I'm happy to report that I still did my 30 minute cross-training on the elliptical. So what did I do today? I went and bought yet ANOTHER Nike + iPod chip, which coupled with my early upgrade of my iPhone, leaves me as, quite simply, Apple's bitch.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:
Due to my near breakdown over the Nike chip incident, I opted on focusing on the episode of Friends that was on. It was the episode where Monica gets the race car bed and the gang finds out that Janice is cheating on Chandler with her ex-husband.

The Food:

Bottom Line: you consumed 2236 and burned 400 calories. Your daily calorie loss of 1292 calories exceeds the planned calorie loss by 245 calories.

At this rate you will be losing about 5¾oz daily, or about 2.6lb each week, or about 11.1lb monthly.
Your daily calorie loss of 892 calories is greater than 800 calories, which could be done only if approved by a qualified nutritionist.

Day Highlights

You've burned 400.0 calories!
Congratulations: 13g of sat fat is less than 7% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Congratulations: 0g of trans fat is less than 1% of calories, reducing risk of heart disease.
Low cholesterol: 265mg, staying under 300mg.
You consumed 4502mg of sodium; the recommended range is 1,500 - 2,300mg.

The Workout:

30 minutes on the eliptical / 400 calories burned / 2.00 miles

The Picture (this one's for you, Lauren Koslow!):

Like what you are reading? Show me the love by donating to my Fred's Team NYC Marathon Page! https://fredsteam.mskcc.org/fundraising/Controller?action=userHome&user_id=40160&event_id=128

Day 1: Hot Mess

2009-06-15T23:14:00.003-04:00

Today, I officially started my 20 week training plan for the NYC Marathon (pause for applause, shock & awe). And let me tell you, it was a rough one. First, I couldn't get out of bed this morning. I've felt this way since I was a little kid, but I honestly and truly feel like I get more tired than anyone else. I realize this is probably untrue, but I've decided to self diagnosis myself with some sort of Epstein Bar/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome that is as-yet-undiscovered by the great scientific minds of today. I call it Mouradian Shelf. It's terrible. From there, things only went further downhill...

I trudged through a ridiculous day of work - I work full-time at the American Cancer Society as a Director of Special Events for the event, Relay For Life. This is the tail-end of our busy season, which is like tax season for accountants, minus the laughs. Fortunately, I happen to love my job and my co-workers, but busy is busy.

Regardless, the shit really started to hit the fan afterwork. Today was all about time. I was supposed to run 40 minutes at a slow, moderate pace. No problem. I got home and strapped on my sneakers, before the rain that was threatening all day really blew its wad. I take to the streets and BAM, my Nike + iPod chip isn't working. This was supposed to tell me how fast I was going, how far and for how long. I was devastated. If I have to tell you that I'm not the type of person who needs these kind of hiccups, than you obviously aren't paying attention. Any roadblock on this journey, from a hangnail to a particularly captivating rerun of Small Wonder could send me off the path of the fit and righteous. In my rage I sent my run buddy (although, up until a week ago she was either my couch buddy or booze buddy), Jilly this text message:

My stupid f-ing Nike chip isn't working... I hate running! I hate the marathon! And I hate all apple and apple related products!

Granted, as I was sending the text, I had a feeling it would make it's way into this blog entry, so I went for maximum dramatic effect and proper grammar (to be fair, I like my text messages the way I like my women - clean, effective and not missing any periods). I had walked/run about a mile already, but I wouldn't count that towards my time. After a detour to the Apple Store (I'm like a battered wife) so I could purchase a wristwatch that allows me to control my iPod Nano (technology!) while I run, I headed to the gym - even though I didn't want to run indoors - this was my only course of action...

And I did it! I ran, for the first time in my life, for forty minutes straight. Did I have to chant to myself "you can do it, you can do it, you can do it" quietly under my short gasps for air? Yes. Did I need an ice bath afterwards? Yes. Did I sweat like Whitney Houston and Magic Johnson's lovechild (who, now that I think of it, probably exists)? Yes. Did I only run a 14-minute mile for forty minutes? Yes. But I did it. If the feeling I got after completing that relatively pathetic 40 minutes is any slight indication of what I will feel when I complete the marathon - then sign me up. Wait. I already am signed up. In that case sign me up for not quitting in two weeks like I assumed I would.

Sorry, no pics, but let me tell you, I was a hot, sweaty mess. I'm trying to work something out where I can actually use my webcam, so you can see the horror afterwards. Stay tuned.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Playlist:
I'm a big fan of running to a variety of songs. I like some hip-hop and rock that gets me super pumped. But I also like songs that have a strong trajectory - a song that starts off slow and then has a big build. One of my favorite songs to run to is Mary J.'s cover of "One" because when she goes all church on it at the end, you can't help but keep going.

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon
Testify - Common
Oh Sherrie - Steve Perry
I Know, I Know, I Know - Tegan & Sara
Sequestered in Memphis - The Hold Steady
Now You Tell Me - Jordin Sparks - Don't Judge Me! You Don't Know My Life!
Best of You - Foo Fighters - My favorite song to run to.
Cry Baby (live) - Allison Iraheta
Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship & Leighton Meester
Sometime Around Midnight - The Airborne Toxic Event - My new favorite song of all-time this week.
I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked - Ida Maria

The Food:

Day energy balance:
845 less calories than personalized USDA DRI + 581 average burn with activities = 1426 total daily calorie loss

Bottom Line: you consumed 2283 and burned 581 calories. Your daily calorie loss of 1426 calories exceeds the planned calorie loss by 520 calories.

80 ounces of water.

At this rate you will be losing about 7oz daily, or about 2.9lb each week, or about 12.2lb monthly.

The Workout:

40 minutes / 400 calories burned / 2.85 miles

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Everyone Is Skinny at the Prom

2009-06-15T11:20:00.008-04:00

In the interest of keeping my public meltdown going, I recently unearthed a bunch of my prom pictures from, ugh, 1999. Ten years ago. One decade! This was inspired by four of the kids I work with, Corey, Abby, Hunter & Jason, who recently went to their own high school prom. It obviously made me nostalgic - and suicidal. I am running a marathon as a last resort to lose weight and get in shape (and to raise money for cancer research - blah, blah, blah), but instead am reminded of the ugliest truth of all. I'm not only out of shape and about to run a grueling 26.2 miles - I'm also old? In the words of my father: "I really didn't need this right now."

I've now posted these pictures on the refrigerators at both my office and my work with signs that reads:

The obvious concern here is that I live alone (although, I do have a leprechaun by the name of Craig crashing with me for the next couple of weeks) and I would have to tell myself to stop from going Anna Nicole on the icebox - and the last thing I need is a mental breakdown a la Jan Brady. I think I might rig something up, so every I open the fridge at home a really, really hot girl's voice says: "Would you rather have the fried Chicken Breast or mine? Stop eating." I'm just concerned that this will lead to an unhealthy sexual compulsion towards food. I don't want to get turned on every time I drive past a Popeye's.

Regardless, revel in what 10 years of hard living can do to a person...

I Can Do It...

2009-06-15T00:05:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow is my first day of training for the marathon, so I thought the best way to prepare was to order $40 worth of Domino's Pizza and lay about for the bulk of the day. Now it's after midnight and I'm watching True Blood for the second time (because the last 15 minutes of the 9:00 showing got all f-ed up) and I'm not feeling like doing a whole lot tomorrow...

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it, I probably can't do it, but I at least want to try, because if I don't try, I'll never know for sure. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.

My Mother Is The Reason I Believe I Can Do Ridiculous Things That I Can't Actually Do (Like Run a Marathon)

2009-06-12T13:52:00.004-04:00

My parents are, at the end of the day, no matter how much I make fun of them (and at times it's merciless - hey, I like an easy target), two of the greatest people on this planet - and according to my friends, quite possibly, the two cutest. They're the most supportive parents a guy could have - they are the reason that I think I can do things like sign up for a marathon and run it 20 weeks from now, because my mother never always makes outlandish statements that there isn't anything I can't do (see also: Summer Hope Foundation, The). Well, mom, I hate to prove your wrong, but I, much like Dwight K. Schrute, can't pulverize my own kidney stones. Whether or not I can run a marathon, remains to be seen.

So I struggled with whether or not I should share the e-mail that my mom wrote me after I announced that I was running the marathon. On the one hand,it's written with the Bulgarian accent she doesn't think she has when she speaks, none the less writes (my mother, like all of the generation above me in my family, is Bulgarian born), and posting it could be misconstrued as mockery. And, well, it should - but in its slight ribbing of my mother, the e-mail also encapsulates the spirit of our mother-son relationship: Pure heart, unconditional love, mixed together with a little bit of sarcasm, and a heaping dash of overbearing. Thanks, Mom!

Unbelievable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GULP - IS RIGHT!!!! IF ANYBODY CAN DO IT YOU CAN I AM SURE!!!! You check with the Dr that you can do this – right? Do you have enough time to train, people train for years, are you running with somebody? GOOD LUCK!!!!!
YOU AMAZE ME SOMETIMES... OR AT LEAST MOST OF THE TIME... IN A NICE WAY MOST OF THE TIME.
Love,
Mom

Training Schedule

2009-06-12T13:28:00.006-04:00

The fun parts of deciding to run a marathon when you are comically unprepared for it are, of course, the attention, the praise, motivation and general shock and awe. Unfortunately, that lasts for approximately five or six e-mails. After that, the cold heartless bitch called reality comes to bite you in the ass and remind you that there is more to this than just accolades. There is running. A lot. Like a marathon's worth. After the jump is my training plan. Gulp.

Here is my training plan. It seems pretty reasonable - it's the same rough plan that Tara used when she was the first Ed's Team For Fred's Team runner four years ago. Granted, Tara is more or less chiseled out of stone (her kick-ass physique, not her heart- she's just a doll in real life) - but it's what I have to go with. Her sister, Jill and cousin, Heather, who are also running the marathon this year, are using the same training plan, so I feel confident that I should, at the very least, be able to fake my way through the training process. My fear is that the recurring dream I have about making it to the finals of American Idol only to come to the realization that I can't sing a note right before I go on stage for the finale, is what's going to happen with the marathon. I'm going to half-ass it and convince myself that I'm totally prepared for this, and then I'm going to be standing on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge ready to start the race and realize that the walk from the car to the starting line gave me shin splints and, oh yeah, I hate running. I'm sure a lot of first-time marathoners have these kind of panic attacks - but I just don't want to let the nerves get the best of me, and they are - before I've even started. Furthermore, if I have to make a trip all the way to Staten Island for nothing, I'm going to be really pisst off. I will not going to let the least powerful of all the boroughs get the best of me! Added bonus for those people who interact with me, please note the days and times where my runs will cause me to be a particularly unbearable douchebag. You've been warned.

Pre-Training Training

2009-06-11T22:40:00.020-04:00

I signed up for the NYC Marathon weeks ago, and being the intense procrastinator that I am, I figured I wouldn't start training just yet - but rather spend the proceeding month pre-training, which is a term I very well may have just made up. Instead of doing a 24 week training program, I figured I'd just head to the gym and see what my running limits were. Apparently, my 85 year old grandmother and I don't just share chiseled calves you could crush a walnut with (seriously, my grandmother's calves are no joke), but also a similar threshold for running. As a 28 year old man, I never thought I'd compare my stamina to that of my grandmother's but, well, here we are. Work has been extremely busy, but I was trying to get into the gym a few days a week and start running - just to dip my toes in the water. It didn't got very well... First off, here is one of the main reasons that I want to run this marathon - it's a no-turning-back way to lose weight. I know, I know, I know - any book you read about marathon training will tell you that using the marathon as an excuse to lose weight is a bad, bad idea. But I'm full of bad ideas. And I think those books are wrong because the people who are writing them RUN MARATHONS so what would they know about needing to lose weight? Suck it, Hal Higdon (that's a marathon runner joke - because he's like the in the marathon world. Note to self: Jokes that need explanations probably don't work so well). As a two-time winner of the illustrious Mike Herr Chubby Challenge, it's embarrassing that I'm once again tipping the scales. The look of horror and shock on the faces of some of my student committee members (and their parents) when I casually mentioned that I was a big deal in High School - as if the very thought of it was tantamount to dogs traveling to mars via a Delorean - certainly didn't help. In case you think that I am being overly dramatic, this is my clothing situation of late:

Now I can only imagine what many of you must be thinking - how did this happen!?!? Well, most of you are thinking that - my mother can't believe that I would put pictures of my bedroom looking like that on the internet. For the rest of you, trust me, I was right there with you. I've watched enough episodes of The Biggest Loser to know that I had some serious self-hate issues, and that I was overeating because I wasn't hugged enough and didn't think I was worth a damn! Or maybe I was repressing some kind of child abuse and acting out through eating? Or quite possibly, the problem could've been my love for 2 for $3 Bacon Egg and Cheese Biscuits from McDonald's and a complete lack of self-control. I'm not sure, which of these was the problem, but I decided to get proactive and hit the Wii Fit with a vengeance, but, uhh, let's just say that didn't go so great either...

Next, I decided to take my pre-training training regimen to the local gym and see what I come up with as far as running on the treadmill. It was a disaster:

And for all that trouble - this was my best time:

The worst part is, after building up to that whopping 15 minute mile base, I haven't been to the gym in about a month. So I'll be starting from scratch when my real training starts on Monday, June 15th. Yikes.

Why This Fat Boy Started to Run

2009-05-17T22:48:00.005-04:00

I like to succeed or fail at things on a big scale. When I was 22 years old I started a non-profit organization, The Summer Hope Foundation, to support the fight against cancer, in honor of my aunt, Annie, a breast cancer survivor and my best friend Carla's younger brother, Steven, who lost his battle with Leukemia 4 years earlier, my senior year of high school, two days after his 16th birthday. 7 years later, Summer Hope is going strong, raising thousands of dollars for cancer research and patients across the country. In retrospect, I realize, I could've just written a check.

The first time I got caught drunk by my parents, I didn't just throw up in the bathroom and wake them up. No, no, no. I threw up all over myself, blacked out and confided in my mother that I needed to, uhh, find the comfort of a lady friend. In graphic detail.

As I said - succeed or fail on a big scale. So what better way to train for a 26.2 mile marathon that I am completely unprepared and most likely going to fail miserably at, than to have it for all the world to see?

I'm also desperate. I'm not big enough to be a contestant on The Biggest Loser, but not in-shape enough to be as naked as often as I'd like (line forms here, ladies). So I thought, public humiliation was the only reasonable step.

I'm also inspired, and to be fair - that doesn't happen often (I'm a little dead inside). As I've mentioned, cancer has had a profound and stupid effect on my life. In November of 2005, my friends' fatherEd Cook lost his battle with cancer, leaving behind his three daughters, my friends, Jill, Tara & Kerry, a wife, Eileen and countless friends and family that all recall him as one of the world's greatest guys. The following November, his middle daughter, Tara, ran the NYC Marathon for Fred's Team at Memorial Sloan-Kettering. Over 50 of us traipsed around the city cheering her on, all wearing Run. Tara. Run. t-shirts and we raised a couple of thousand dollars for cancer research at Sloan. More importantly, the "Ed's Team for Fred's Team" tradition was born. The next year, Ed's nephew, Patrick ran the marathon. The next - his youngest daughter Kerry. This year the tradition is being kept alive by oldest daughter Jill and Ed's niece, Heather. I'm just riding their coattails, because, to be honest, I'm proud to be a part of "Ed's Team for Fred's Team" - we're four years running...

A $3,000 donation is required to get one of the spots in the marathon on Fred's team. I'll be raising money through both The Summer Hope Foundation's website (www.summerhope.org - currently under construction) and my Fred's Team Page (https://fredsteam.mskcc.org/fundraising/Controller?action=userHome&user_id=40160). If this blog made you smile, feel bad for me or inspired you a little, make a donation. If not... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!? Just kidding. Not really.