Miles

After months and months of mundane existence, this insanely busy spring came as a breath of fresh, but thick air. March consisted of a week and a half long trip to Europe, immediately followed by a four day trip to southern California. April consisted of baseball. Lots and lots of baseball. It was Jeff's senior season, so at least 3 days a week I illegally sped in my red Jetta from work to a ballgame. April also consisted of lots and lots of training. Marathon training. May continued the trend. I ran the Marathon on the third, which I'll later go into more detail about. The following week I left for Southern California to attend Catherine's graduation. The next day I joined the Riley family on a week long cruise up to British Columbia. Upon my return to Colorado, I've entered into a relationship which has been time consuming in a completely satisfying way. Needless to say, I've had little time to reflect.

With the obvious exception of a relationship, the marathon is far and away the most special thing I've needed to process. At the beginning of February I decided to officially begin training. My dream was to run a 3:10 time, which would qualify me for the prestigious Boston Marathon. The race in Ft. Collins, while being at a high elevation, is also mostly downhill. I thought it'd give me a decent shot at that goal.

I began training hard. The first day of training was a 10 mile run during a huge snowfall. I did not get too much advice beyond scattered conversations with runners on how to prepare, so I used a collection of these conversations to work out my own training regiment. Starting out with ten probably was not the wisest choice, but I thought I was in good enough shape. Every thursday was to be my interval day. This meant I had to run 4 6:30 miles, with 5 minute jogging breaks in between each mile. This proved tougher than I originally thought, but I stayed consistent. Every sunday was my long run day. The first sunday was a 14 mile run just hours before the Super Bowl.

About 4 weeks into training, the arch of my right foot started killing me. It became difficult to even run short distances on. It swelled up and turned blue. As luck would have it, I had some sort of inflammation which caused me to stay off of it for a few days. Being that 3 months is already a bit short to train for 26.2 miles, I was not too excited about this.

After staying off of it for a week or two, I started running again, but couldn't do much. Several different bugs started going around work and I got sick for a couple of weeks. This didn't stop me from running, but it stopped me from training the way I needed to.

Then came the European vacation. I didn't run for almost two weeks. I didn't rest my body properly and pretty much did everything wrong or half assed in my training. The whole time I was wondering if my foot would be ready to go on may 3rd. If it was, I was not too sure that my body could handle finishing a marathon, let alone doing it in a qualifying time.

I ran consistently in April with no pain in my foot. I decided that I'd be good to go. My final long run was 16 miles about 2 and a half weeks before the race. Everybody I talked to said that I needed to top out at around 20-22 miles about 4 or 5 weeks out. That never happened. My goal became simply to finish. I had ten more miles to go after the most I had ever run. I didn't know if my body could handle it.

May 3rd came and it came early. I awoke at 3:20 that morning. I ate a banana and some peanut butter toast. I trimmed my toenails as low as they would go, applied Vaseline and runner's glide to almost every inch of my body, put my clothes on and left Loveland, arriving at Ft. Collins at 4:30. I boarded a bus by myself and took a 45 minute ride up the mountain to the starting line. While on the bus, I downed several water bottles and ate a clif bar. Got to the top of the mountain, peeled of my sweats, stretched a bit and went to the starting line.

It was freezing that morning. It had to be in the 30's at 6 am. I could see my breath and my legs were frozen, being that my shorts were so short that my ass was literally hanging out. I knew I'd warm up once we started.

The course was beautiful. Quite possibly the most beautiful morning I've ever experienced. The race started and I ran with one thousand of my closest friends towards the finish. To get there we had to run down the canyon, along a the beautiful poudre river, towards the sunrise. It rose directly through the canyon as the mist and fog gently rested on the tree covered mountains. I was close to tears.

My legs felt fresh, my heart was excited, and I cruised. With all the water I drank, I had to pee at miles 5, 8, and 11. After that, my bladder was good until the end. I was amazed at how good I felt. Every few miles I took a drink of water or some of that Heed sport drink. I had an energy goo in my hand that was given to me, but I never used it.

At mile 18, I was still cruising. But then, I heard footsteps behind me and a voice firmly said "You better quit messin' around and start running!" I turned around to see a short, bald headed man with a grey moustache. "Sorry," I said, "I'm going at a steady pace." "Hey man, you're only young once, you need to run this thing." Turns out it was his 164th marathon and he was planning on running 300 before he kicks the bucket. He told me he once ran a 2:55 marathon on a saturday, and the very next day ran a 2:53 marathon. Badass is the only word to describe this man. After running together for about half a mile he said "get going," and I got going. It was inspiration I needed.

At about mile 19 I passed a girl who seemed to be a pretty badass runner. I was feeling good. I hadn't been passed yet, except while stopping for the bathroom. I hate being passed. Even on a saturday morning jog. I hate being passed. I know that while training I'm just supposed to practice a pace and not run against people, but I'm too competitive. I hate hate hate being passed. That's how I run races. I don't let people passe me. It helps that I usually start in the back and all the people faster than me are in the front, but still, I don't like being passed. At about mile 22, this girl that I thought was in my dust, passes me. I was furious, but I was starting to feel a lack of strength in my legs. I knew it would take all of my energy to keep up with her and I couldn't keep that pace for the last 4 miles. It didn't help that it was a girl. I try to be forward thinking about women and their abilities, but I still hate being inferior in any way athletic to a girl.

I kept her in my sight for the last few miles as my body began to break down. I never got to a point of misery, but I was ready for the race to be over at about mile 23. She kept going further, and further ahead of me. She got to about 50 or 60 yards ahead of me and I thought, my only remaining goal is to pass this woman before the finish line. With a half mile left I turned it on. I ran as hard as my body would take me. With about 200 yards remaining, I passed her! She ate my dust for the final remaining distance. She'll never know that I was so intent on beating her, but it helped me finish.

As I crossed the finish line to the cheers of hundreds, my eyes wandered to the time clock and with amazement I saw the number 3:38:36. I had no idea how long it took me. I thought it could've been over 4 hours seeing as I only trained for about 2 months altogether. My final time ended up being 3:36:42 which I was extremely proud of. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life and I look forward to doing another. I only have 26 minutes to shave from my time. That's a full minute per mile, which is a bit daunting, but now I know what to expect.

The experience was beautiful. My only regret is that I was alone. I had nobody to share the glory with. Nobody to celebrate with. Nobody there to encourage me. Running 26.2 by oneself is lonely enough. Having nobody there at the finish line was far worse. I think it was good though. There is something about adventure alone. Accomplishing something by oneself. There was a freedom amongst the loneliness.

A Few Recommendations

A few months ago, a fellow blogger posted a little known film that moved him deeply. It got me thinking, there are several films out there that have gotten little to no love from the critical world, awards network, or general public that I feel deserve a fair shot. As a Sunday afternoon exercise, I thought I'd post a few of them. My rules are simple but not iron clad. They have to be film's that few people that I know have seen or heard of. They can't have been overly recognized by the academy, the golden globes, or other ridiculous awards committees. Notice, I used the word "overly." My hope with this post is that a few more people will see a few more films that I believe are strong. Here's a list in no particular order.


The Sweet Hereafter (1997):

I know I know. The first thing you may say is that this film had two oscar nominations. Well, my rules are more like guidelines. I don't know one person whose seen this film. I've never been able to discuss it with anyone. I rarely see any film critics referencing it in their blogs. This is a beautiful, tough, and emotionally draining film. I truly had no clue what it was about when I watched it. I encourage you to do the same.

Breach (2007):

This film opened to good reviews and I went and saw it with my dad. He's the only person I've ever heard mention it. Critics seemed to enjoy it but it got no awards recognition and bombed at the box office. Chris Cooper gives a subtle yet dynamic performance. Ryan Phillipe shows that what he lacks in range he makes up for in film selection. I'm not a huge fan of him as an actor, but he chooses good film to associate himself with, with only a few exceptions.

Elephant (2003):

A few very good reviews and a good showing at the Cannes Film Festival, yet not many have seen it. My jaw was close to the floor when it was over. Gus Van Sant knows what the hell he's doing.

Green Street Hooligans (2005):

This film is virtually unnoticed by anyone. I told a few soccer players I know about it and they loved it. Yeah, the fight club inspiration is evident, but this is a strong dramatic feature showing that Elijah Wood can play more than effeminate mythological characters or Huck Finn.

Menace II Society (1993):

A film with several similarities to Boyz n tha Hood but strong none the less. Very tough film but worth the effort.

Rescue Dawn (2006):

Christian Bale stars in this Werner Herzog true story about a pilot shot down in Laos. Herzog directed a documentary about this guy ten years before and thought his story needed to be told in a feature. Solid film.

Shattered Glass (2003):

While incredibly wooden in the Star Wars prequels, Hayden Christensen gives a compelling performance about a journalist who fabricated several stories. True story.

Slacker (1991):

Very influential independent film, yet nobody I know has seen it.

Sunshine (2007):

Danny Boyle's directorial predecessor to Slumdog Millionaire. The ending shows a small lack of focus, but the overall film is a thought provoking sci fi thriller.

Synechdoche, New York (2008):

One of the few films I've seen in which its weaknesses also function as strengths. An imperfect film, but something told me I had just watched something special. Philip Seymour Hoffman is marvelous.

The Way of the Gun (2000):

The writer of the Usual Suspects directorial debut. A few friends in high school were all Usual suspects fanatics, so we rented this one and had a party. I've not met anyone who has seen it since. A modern day western. Like all good westerns, this is a moral tale that disguises itself as action.

Without Limits (1998):

Ok, this film is special because I love to run. This is the Steve Prefontaine film. It didn't even gross 1 million at the box office. It deserves to be seen.

Broken Flowers (2005):

Not a great film, but an interesting Bill Murray performance.

Dancer in the Dark (2000):

Not only does Bjork have an amazing voice, but she can act. This is an emotionally draining film.

Hard Candy (2005):

One of the creepier movies I've ever seen. Ellen Page showed a few years before Juno how well she really can act.

Harsh Times (2005):

Worth it simply for Christian Bale's performance. It is a little derivative of Training Day, same screenwriter, but Bale gives a hell of a performance.

Igby Goes Down (2002):

The Culkin kids can act. This film owes something to Catcher in the Rye. It's the closest thing to Salinger's novel that we are likely to see on screen, seeing as Salinger signed some sort of contract stating that CITR would never be made into a film.

Kalifornia (1993):

Brad Pitt's creepiest performance. An interesting study of American violence.

Millions (2005):

Another Danny Boyle film that needs to be seen. This film transcends any sort of label somebody could place on it.

The Proposition (2005):

If you like westerns, here is a solid one.

Year of the Dog (2007):

Not a huge fan of Molly Shannon the comedian. I thought most of her SNL characters like Mary Catherine Gallagher, the licensed joyologist, and others were annoying. However, she does have dramatic acting skills. She is truly wonderful in this film that deserves to be seen.



Hopefully this will inspire some viewing. Leave me comments if you've seen any of these or if there are ones that I missed.

Nomadic Identity Crisis

Two weeks rarely pass with the haste of these past two. March 16 I found myself in Camden, the live music and punk rock London neighborhood. March 21st I awoke in Monmarte, a popular destination for writers and artists. March 24th a 747 brought me in to Denver International airport. March 25th I walked from Los Angeles International airport to my Uncle's apartment which sits 1 block away from the Pacific.

Seemingly, I could count myself fortunate. London, Paris, Colorado, Manhattan Beach are all places that legions of people spend insane amounts of money to visit. At 26, I'm hitting all of those places in 2 weeks.

Running south on the beach this breezy morning it occurred to me how vastly different the culture of each of these places are. London has a New York City feel to it. Extremely fast paced, everyone dressed to the nines in suits or the latest trendy metro sexual fad, stern looks on their faces, polite but unfriendly demeanor. Paris had couples everywhere. It really is the city of love. Very trendy like London, but a bit more laid back. Everything was expensive, even average tasting meals and wine. The people were more friendly than in London. Manhattan Beach is an 180 degree difference, assuming the scale is a wealthy scale. Everyone is adorned in trendy beach wear. The girls in matching jogging suits, beach skirts, or bathing suits. They are all wearing similar big lens sunglasses. The dudes are all in surf gear, tshirts, sunglasses, and flip flops.

All three of these cultures are trendy in different ways. It must be expensive to keep up the trends. I know this sounds like criticism, and maybe it is, but it is merely an observation. And who am I to judge? My clothing style has adapted to whatever culture I find myself in. One thing that I am realizing is that I don't tend to identify with this kind of wealth. My dad did work in the oil industry for my whole life and I've always had everything I've needed. I did go to a private university and have vacationed in warm climates. Still, my family seemed to live a bit more of a meager lifestyle. My dad was raised in a blue collar family and my mom was raised on a teacher's salary. I identify much better with that culture. The middle class.

I sure as hell don't identify with the poor, as much as my idealistic college self would like to believe I did. I enjoy doing expensive things. Skiing, traveling, drinking wine, going to ballgames are all things that cost money. I enjoy clean bathrooms with nice soaps. I'd gladly pay over 100 bucks for Radiohead tickets. I can't wait to buy new skis even though mine are in fine condition. I'd rather go to Rico's and pay at least a dollar fifty more for coffee than at Pike's Perk or Starbucks because I like the ambiance and the coffee tastes better. I'd never go to a fast food restaurant because of a cheap value menu.

Maybe I understand the colorado springs briargate culture because thats where I became an adult. Thats how I hope to live. I don't need a big house, but I'd like a decent sized one. I'd like my kids to have their own rooms. I'd like to be able to pick up the check most of the time without being stressed about my budget. I don't need a top of the line car, but I'd rather own one thats close to being new.

I use to think it was wrong to desire these things, but I'm starting to think that critics of those desires can piss off. Most agree that we need to have a certain amount of money to survive. The gray area is "how much is too much." Is there too much? John and I had this conversation in England. Some would say middle class is too much. Some would say upper class is too much. Who is right?

Western European Observation

It's nice not to be carded upon the purchase of alcohol

Notre Dame is far too touristy to seem special on a saturday

baked beans are a wonderful breakfast side dish

I smile and nod more than a bobble head doll when I don't speak the language

Many sights, many nights, just enough sleep

This is the first full day in Paris. A few thoughts so far...

In London, the rumour about fish n chips is true. They do not disappoint.

The pubs are truly magnificent.

London is strikingly similar to New York, or vice versa

Thus far, the stigma of French rudeness is completely false.

Public transportation kicks all sorts of monumental ass.

I'm older than most hostel dwellers

I can easily run ten miles, but walking all day beats the hell out of my feet

The dollar is getting better, but it still sucks balls.

I won't be cool until I get a scarf, ripped jeans, a blazer, and chuck taylor converse

I should have studied abroad in Oxford

Cafe's and pubs are far superior to chains any day of the mutha sucking week!

1st Day

It's 3:30 in the afternoon in London on Monday. I've not slept since Saturday evening. I've already seen Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Hyde Park, The Princess Diana memorial, and toured Westminster Abbey. I'm pooped. However, I'm excited about this evening's festivities.

Happy St. Patrick's Day tomorrow.

On Adventure's Morning

In only 3 and a half short hours, I'll be boarding a plane en route to Washington DC. Later on this evening, I'll fly across the pond, arriving in London tomorrow morning. It's always tough to focus when filled with anticipation.

This is my second European adventure. The first was an excursion to Germany and Austria over two years ago. Much has changed in life since then. Relationally, professionally, personally, everything is different. I think my expectations are different this time. Chief of which being a lack of specific expectations.

We'll see. I'll do my best to update from hostels over the next 9 days.