Longest Post Ever!

OK, here we go. Two weeks since the marathon, and it’s time for the big write-up.

I woke up at 2:00 marathon morning. Even with an hour of extra sleep due to the time change (how fortuitous!), it was still early. I had plenty of time to eat some very, very bland Cream of Wheat, and do my biological business, and make sure I had everything ready to go. At 3:40 my dad woke up and, after clearing his own head, drove me to the train station, for the 4:00 train into Penn Station. There were, indeed, a couple of other marathoners on the train, but we didn’t acknowledge each other. Hey, this is New York!

Cold.

Got into Penn Station about 4:45 and started walking over to the Public Library. As I got closer, more and more marathoners appeared, instantly recognizable by their garb and by the clear plastic bags – the “official” bags – everyone was hauling. It was a bizarre, almost religious experience – as if everyone was creeping out of the woodwork in the dark, all headed to the same bright lights.

Boarded the bus to Staten Island at about 5:15, 15 minutes earlier than was on my ticket, but whatever. What a production – a long line of people and a long line of buses. Fortunately, I got on a long-distance commuter bus (an “over-the-road coach,” if you like), not a typical city transit bus, so my ride was on a cushy seat: much quieter and more comfortable. Got to Fort Wadsworth by 5:45 – a pretty smooth operation overall.

The volunteers herded us into our areas. I was in the green area, and so hunkered down by the UPS baggage trucks, out of the wind, for awhile. People lined up for bagels and coffee and tea and water and the porta-johns. I didn’t eat or drink much (I’d had one of Bagel Boss’s finest on the train). For four hours, we all sat around. The sun slowly rose, giving everything an even more surreal glow, although the harsh, loud multilingual announcements about the baggage-buses and toilets kept bringing us back to reality.

I was bundled up against the cold and was further insulated by plastic bags that Jordan Karp suggested I bring with me, which was a superb idea. I used the porta-johns a few times – it wasn’t crowded early. Eventually I changed into my race-day socks and shoes (I’d worn two pairs of other socks to keep warm during the pre-race sit-around), and put on what we’ll just refer to as “anti-chafing” gel in all the appropriate places. I checked my bag at about 9:15 or so, still wearing some extra clothes, which I would have to discard just prior to the start.

It was, fortunately, a glorious sunny day, although very cold, and a brisk breeze blew through camp all morning. My race outfit was a short-sleeve shirt and shorts, but I also had makeshift arm warmers (tube socks with the toes cut off, another JK suggestion, so that I could discard them if necessary during the run), a fleece hat, a green baseball cap, and two pairs of thin gloves. I also brought two headbands of different thicknesses, in case I warmed up and needed to swap out the fleece hat. I figured, even if I had to chuck clothes during the race, I’d bought some new goodies – another fleece hat, a visor, a cap, and a pair of gloves – at the Javits race expo.

Moved into the starting corrals. Everything really was well-choreographed. Chose essentially the last possible minute to use the porta-john once again, which was a brilliant stratagem. All throughout the race, people were peeing everywhere: on the Verrazano Bridge, on the side of the roads, EVERYWHERE. I didn’t have to pee once: after 10:00, my last deposit, so to speak, I was good until returning to Long Island, long after the race. Just before start time, I did finally take off my superfluous clothes: a fleece hoodie, a long-sleeve henley, and a pair of sweatpants. All of these items dated from my high-school years or earlier, which meant that they were purchased by my mother, which meant that they were all extra-extra-large, which meant that they were prime discard material. Woe to the charity that ultimately receives these stunning pieces of apparel.

THE START. This was apparently the first year of the three-wave start, so it wasn’t terribly crowded, and I was able to maneuver on the bridge. I was on the lower level of the bridge, which was a little disappointing, but I guess kept me out of the sun for a couple of miles, and that couldn’t have hurt.

So many people stopped on the bridge to take pictures and to goggle at the Manhattan skyline in the distance. I goggled a little bit, but I was disappointed to see no fireboat salutes. I read somewhere that they had stopped that practice due to environmental concerns. Feh.

And I was off and running! I was nervous about my pace – the key was not starting out too fast. In all the races I’ve done, though, I have always started slow. This race was no exception – my first 5K were the slowest! Carson and JK had warned me about crowding on the bridge, but that was OK, and Carson had further warned me that the bridge was much steeper on foot than I would ever realize by vehicle, but I had paid attention when the bus drove us over the bridge to the start, and I was prepared for the hills, and I was OK.

“I’m running the New York City Marathon on my birthday, and it’s a beautiful day, and my friends and family are here to see me and support me. Awesome!” I thought this again and again during the race (as Theresa correctly guessed afterward), which meant that – uncharacteristically – I had an idiotic smile on my face most of the time. Well, they say that smiling reduces tension! And who needs tension?

Suddenly it wasn’t cold, and I felt no wind, and I wasn’t sore, and the four hours of waiting disappeared from my memory, and I was running the New York City Marathon!

I thought I would find a person, or some people, running at my pace and then stick with them throughout the race, but this didn’t happen. To those who predicted I’d make lots of new friends and chat everyone up for 26.2 miles: I didn’t talk to a soul, except for the guy ahead of me in the porta-john line at about 9:00 – a woman asked him where the “drop-off” was, referring to the baggage-collection trucks, and after she left, he turned around to look at me for some reason, and I quipped, with perfect timing, “I thought this [the porta-john] was the drop-off area,” and he reared back his head and laughed, a big British belly laugh, and that was that.

We came over the bridge into Brooklyn. “Welcome to Brooklyn!” people shrieked from the sides of the road. It was a party! People were cheering and playing music and there were bands and little kids holding out their hands for high-fives and everyone was clapping and handing out paper towels, orange slices, water, lollipops, candy, and who-knows-what, and it was a giant Experience, with a capital E, and one of the most astonishing things I’d ever encountered. Manhattan, later, would be a Huge Production, again with capital letters, but somehow not as fun as Brooklyn.

I dropped my spare headbands at one point and had to stop and pick them up, and resolved to ditch them as soon as I found Carson and Theresa. I didn’t have to wait long… they were waiting at mile 4.25, at 59th Street and Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn. As we’d planned, I was running on the right side of the road. (I wore a bracelet on my right arm, on which I’d written where I was expecting to see everyone – I’d worked this out ahead of time.)





I’d estimated a ten-minute-per-mile pace for the race as a whole, and so far, I was a little behind… but, again, I had planned to start out slow. And I was already picking up speed: my second 5K would be faster than my first.



I should point out that it was very easy to see Carson and Theresa, because in addition to having worked out a place to look for them, Carson also brought a very subtle, understated visual aid.



(I have to point out that I pioneered the use of the pirate flag, which ordinarily hangs down right from the middle of our office ceiling, when I waved it on the sidelines of the Boston Marathon in April to catch Alisa’s attention – although Carson improved upon the technique by using a two-stick approach, as pictured. Arrr!)

I was feeling absolutely great at this point, although I still remembered to make an extra effort to look strong, and happy, and good every time I was expecting to see my cheering section – so nobody would say later on, “You know, when I saw you at mile X, you looked pretty bad.”

I felt even better when I saw my parents, waiting for me at the corner of 36th Street (at about mile 5.5), holding up happy-birthday signs (which, to ease the recognition process, I had been shown the day before). I spotted my parents a block away!

And I saw Ben and Katie, right as planned, at the corner of 9th Street, at about mile 6.5. No pirate flags or signs, but Katie’s red jacket was all I needed to pick her out of the crowd.

And apparently even I could be picked out of the crowd. JK had suggested that I write “Eric” on my shirt, so everyone along the route could cheer me on, but I demurred, not being 100% on board with two million complete strangers screeching my name at the top of their lungs. But at about mile 8, I heard someone yell “ERIC!!” at the top of their lungs, and my head swiveled around like a bird’s. It was Aaron, waving frantically from the crowd! I have no idea how he spotted me within the mega-pack, but that was awesome, and probably the single niftiest thing to happen during the run. If everybody had been shouting my name, I would never have picked out his voice.

At around this time, I realized that, despite having gorged myself on pasta and other carbs for days, I was actually starving. Huh? But it was true. I had brought five gels with me (as well as two bottles on the utility belt – hey, maybe it’s just a Linus-like security belt, but whatever!), and I began eating them, and I began drinking lots of Gatorade at the fluid stations, not so much for the hydration as for the calories. In Williamsburg I actually darted across the entire road twice, once to grab a lollipop from a little kid and once to grab a mini-Kit Kat. I savored the lollipop but held onto the Kit Kat… just in case.



I saw Carson and Theresa again at mile 9, near Classon Avenue. Naturally, I ran past yelling “Arrr!!”



And I saw Ben and Katie again near Nassau Avenue, making me five for five. But I missed Dana and Mindy at mile 11.5, and Ben and Katie at mile 12.5, which was a shame, but I was prepared for a sub-100% success rate with the spectating. At Queens Plaza, I saw Carson and Theresa again, although they nearly missed me – I cried “Arrr!!” again as I hurtled past. Carson stuck out his hand and I slapped it, thinking he was going for a high-five; I later learned that he was trying to hand me a Starburst, which I would have loved. Arrr, indeed!

Theresa managed to snap one shot of me chugging by.



I should point out that in order to see me in multiple places, everyone took the subway, the eighth wonder of the world. Carson snapped a contemplative shot of Theresa at the Smith-9th Streets station on the F/G trains, the highest point in the subway system, on the way to Queens.



And here’s a picture from the subway heading over the Queensboro Bridge, toward Manhattan.





I continued to accelerate as I passed the halfway point of the race. The inclines of the Queensboro Bridge were no problem as I powered on along. I’d rolled down my arm-warmers, but I’d kept on the fleece cap as well as both pairs of gloves, and temperature-wise, I was OK. I was sufficiently hydrated, with no urge to pee, and although I was looking forward to some goo at mile 18, I was OK on energy.

By this point – miles 15 or 16 or so, around the entry to Manhattan – a lot of people were struggling. Many were walking, or stretching out on the side of the course, or, of course, peeing. Some were at the medical stations set up every mile, in obvious pain. Many, too, were stopping to hug or take pictures with their family or friends along the route, and that was great to see. But there was so much pain and despair on display, I almost felt bad that I didn’t feel bad. But I didn’t feel bad, and fortunately I didn’t feel bad, either, and I think that around this point, after speeding up for more than a dozen miles, I reached my maximum speed.

First 5K took 33 minutes and 8 seconds.
Next 5K took 30 minutes and 16 seconds (total time, 1:03:24).
Next 5K took 30 minutes and 23 seconds (total time, 1:33:47).
Next 5K took 29 minutes and 55 seconds (total time, 2:03:42).
At the half, I’d run 2:10:11.

Now, in September I had run the half, in Maine, in about 1:56 – nearly 15 minutes faster. But I knew I had to leave a lot in the tank for the freakin’ FULL marathon, so my goal was consistency, not speed. I knew that if I stopped, or walked, I might not be able to start again – I learned that during my 18-mile (maybe 21-mile?!) run in Phoenix, when I got a pebble in my shoe near the end, stopped to remove it, and then couldn’t start back up. Anyway, so far I was happy with how things were going, and I was carefully monitoring my time by checking my watch against the mile stations (each was clearly marked).

Some might be asking at this point, what did I look like? Here are some shots snapped, apparently covertly, by the official race photographer. OK, so I look like a freak. Let’s see you run 26.2 miles!







This one is a little better, but as you can see, I’d spotted the camera, and raised my arms and removed my sunglasses in anticipation.





Carson and JK had both told me that I would feel the Verrazano Bridge shaking underfoot. I didn’t, but the Pulaski Bridge, crossing from Brooklyn into Queens, felt like it was going to collapse. The Queensboro, I didn’t feel, either, but the Willis Avenue Bridge, which I’d cross later, going into the Bronx, was actually just a metal grate, covered with a carpet for the marathon. Yikes. All in all, though, the bridges weren’t too bad.

On to Manhattan. Turning onto First Avenue from the bridge was a shock – there were tremendous cheering crowds on either side of the road, which for the first time looked to me, a native New Yorker, as a New York avenue always looks in the movies: a giant canyon. It was a deafening, mind-blinking adjustment, which had to be made all at once, even while continuing to plow forward.

“I’m running the New York City Marathon on my birthday, and all these people are here to cheer for ME!”

Brooklyn was a giant party; most of First was a Spectacle. At mile 17, sponges were handed out, and acting on JK’s advice, I grabbed two and held onto them for the rest of the race, so that I could pour water on them and then suck the water out, without worrying about spillage from cups. Of course, as Carson noted later, very mildly, that technique may have helped JK when the temperature was in the 60s or 70s, but not when it was only 40 degrees. Still, I felt cool.

And finally it was mile 18, with gels being handed out. I grabbed gel after gel, because I wasn’t sure which had caffeine and which didn’t, and I wanted to eschew the caffeinated ones, as I had throughout my training. (Fortunately, as in my training, the gels were of the PowerBar variety.) I sorted through the half-dozen I’d grabbed, and then, right on cue, at 96th Street, were my parents, so naturally I chucked the unwanted gels right at them, startling them. Hey, a gel is a terrible thing to waste! It turned out that Ben and Katie were right there, too, and they saw me again, even though I had been expecting them at 86th Street! D’oh!

I was starting to think that Manhattan was a lot more impersonal than Brooklyn – the size of the Manhattan crowd was just absurd. But then the crowd suddenly disappeared, and as I ran up toward Spanish Harlem, it was quiet once more. Approaching mile 19, at the corner of 110th Street, I saw my friend Lisa, whose gaze was fixed way down the avenue; she didn’t see me coming up. I grabbed her arm and yelled her name and ran past, and although she briefly feared for her life, she quickly realized it was me and her cry of “Eric!” rang out from behind as I kept motoring up toward the Bronx.

I missed Carson and Theresa at 125th Street, and Ben and Katie at 138th Street in the Bronx, and I was starting to tire and weaken and the running was, for SOME reason, starting to get very hard. Suddenly, though, I remembered that the weather forecast had the wind out of the north all day, which meant that after the Bronx, for the first time, I’d finally be running with the wind, and just when I needed a boost. I figured, if I could run 20 miles directly into the wind, I could run 6 more with the wind at my back. Who knows where the wind was actually blowing… the thought buoyed me tremendously.

And when I ran back into Harlem and, at about mile 21.75, again picked up Carson and Theresa, my mood brightened all at once. They nearly missed me, but Carson picked up his legs and ran with me for a block or so. “It’s getting hard,” I said, trying hard not to look like I was dying (I didn’t want them calling my parents telling them, “He’s dying!”). Carson gave me a mini-Snickers, and although I resisted it at first, I did take it, and I ate it as I ran along, in tiny bites. I figured that I’d never eaten anything like that when running, and I was worried about what it would do to me, but then again, I’d never run 26.2 miles before! I ate it very slowly… delicious! And Carson actually ran with me for a little bit! Really cool.

Near mile 22.5, at the corner of 104th Street and Fifth, I picked up Scott, Jansen, Leah, and their assorted sprog. They, too, nearly missed me, staring up the avenue as they were. But it was fantastic to see them – I had just enough time before rushing past to see all their faces light up as they realized that the exhausted, sweating freak loping past them was me!

Here are some of Scott’s pictures. By this point, along Fifth, there was once again a humongous crowd.







This picture is absolutely awful, but I’m a completist.



And away I went.




… OK, took a break from typing. Where am I now? Oh, right: 23 miles. Wow! Because I had eaten often and taken advantage of the many Gatorade stops, I didn’t hit the wall or bonk – I just got progressively more tired and sore. Fortunately, I didn’t sustain any injuries, and I was able to continue on pretty much as I had been, although I began to slow down.

From 20K to 25K took 30 minutes and 11 seconds (total time, 2:33:53).
From 25K to 30K took 31 minutes and 24 seconds (total time, 3:05:17).
From 30K to 35K took 32 minutes and 43 seconds (total time, 3:38:03).
From 35K to 40K took 33 minutes and 49 seconds (total time, 4:11:52).

I passed many, many more people walking or limping. My goal not to walk at all during the entire race began to seem achievable.

At mile 23.5, at the corner of 96th Street, I saw my parents again, but they didn’t see me. I yelled, “Dad!” I should have yelled, “Plosky!” A woman later said to my dad, “I think that was your son.”

I didn’t get dizzy or lightheaded or freak out or have other mental issues: I was fine in the head (for a change, yeah, yeah). But by the time I entered Central Park and the end finally seemed in sight, I was drained of most emotion and just wanted to finish the race. The crowds were enormous but there were no more friendly faces, and the whole thing started to feel really strange.

I turned east and then north to approach the finish – and I did it! I finished! I had run the New York City Marathon!





At least I remembered to raise my arms for the official pictures. Man, do I look like a freak, or what?

Official time was 4:26:11, for a pace of 10:09 (or 10:10, depending on how you round) throughout. Hey, I’d promised 10 minutes – not bad! I was proud to have finished in the first place, but especially proud that I hadn’t walked, and that I managed to keep up a steady pace.

I didn’t have much time to reflect on my accomplishment, because I suddenly realized that instead of being free to run at my own pace, I was now part of a mass of shuffling humanity. Plus, it was suddenly freezing cold, and I was shivering. People placed a medal and a mylar blanket around my neck and gave me a bag of food (although, of course, I had the presence of mind to somehow acquire a second bag), but most of what was in my head was: MAN, I AM SO COLD. It was 40 degrees, and I was soaked through. Medical people were assisting some runners who looked dazed or who had sat down – sitting is a no-no, since you are supposed to keep the blood a-flowing for awhile after finishing.

The only logistical incompetence encountered during the day was at this point, during the retrieval of the belongings from UPS. Complete morons were inside and outside my baggage truck, along with several children, who must have been dragooned into this work after the organizers realized that the originally-assigned professionals would arse it all up. A German guy standing next to me realized that his number was only one off from mine, so the two of us started and kept up a chorus, yelling our numbers at the befuddled-looking bag-throwers. After an interminable delay, during which I developed a good, healthy case of the shivers, my bag was finally produced. Yeesh.

I staggered out of Central Park to the corner of 75th and Central Park West, the designated meeting spot. No one was there. I was shivering uncontrollably and my teeth were actually chattering. I hadn’t been this cold since my scuba certification dive, which took place in FIFTY-degree water in an old quarry! I actually borrowed a stranger’s cell phone to call my parents, who were late turning up – because they had missed me at the corner of 96th, and didn’t believe the woman who said that she thought I had yelled “Dad!”, they waited there for awhile longer, hoping to still catch me. Fortunately, they were only half a block away, and arrived in short order, and I took the backpack I’d made my dad carry all around the city all day and pulled out all my warm clothes and put them on, right over my sweat-soaked clothes, and after a few minutes, I was OK, although it took a bit longer for my lips to de-purple. My friends showed up, too – I guess I’d forgotten to tell them to meet up at the southwest corner of the intersection.

Well, I’d done it, and my parents and Carson and Theresa and Ben and Katie and I were all together for the first time. I looked as though I had been shot, but otherwise, I felt fantastic, despite feeling as though I had been shot. You understand, right?





Since it was my birthday, Katie treated me to a birthday pretzel from a street vendor, which was delicious, although I didn’t finish it for about an hour. I also nibbled on the food from the finisher bags, and I began to drink lots of water.

I felt so wonderful that everybody had come to see me. This wasn’t “a marathon,” it was a once-in-a-lifetime-marathon-birthday-sunny-everybody-there-for-me Major Production and Unique Happening, and it was an amazing sensation to realize that I was so cared about, and had such support. How could I possibly have done this otherwise? How could I have run 26.2 miles without such a strong boost?

(In case you are curious, YES, that includes loyal readers of this blog!)

I thought of Ru and Brian, who I would later learn also successfully finished the marathon – congratulations! And I thought of Michael Landon and Andy, who’d just run Louisville and the Marine Corps Marathon. And I thought of Carson and Katie and all my other friends who’d run marathons, and my own father, who ran the Long Island Marathon in 1980, although he had a terrible time because he acted on bad advice received pre-race, in the parking lot, to stop at every water station. My dad was a very fast runner, who once managed a sub-18-minute 5K, which I’ll never do, and ran dozens of races for years… but I beat him in the marathon!

I would have been overwhelmed with emotion, but I was also overwhelmed with the need to literally get into a warm, fuzzy place. The plan had been to stagger over to Broadway and get on the subway there, since it would be less crowded, but I quickly realized that I would not be able to make it even those few blocks, and so we all smushed onto the Eighth Avenue line at 72nd and Central Park West, with me using the handrail to support most of my (remaining) body weight on my arms. I had instructed my parents to have enough MetroCard capacity to accommodate my fare, but marathoners rode free! Huzzah!

We all smushed onto the subway; Carson and Theresa ran up to a less-crowded area and did not reappear until Penn Station. Ben and Katie got off at Times Square for the shuttle to Grand Central; they had driven up from Philadelphia that morning to White Plains to park, and they would take Metro-North back there. Carson and Theresa rode with us to Penn, where they, like us, boarded the Long Island Rail Road: my parents and me to Hicksville, and they to Merrick.

No time for post-race celebrations!

Miracle of miracles, there was an escalator down to the Hicksville train, which I never had noticed before.

My parents and I shared a five-seat section, with seats facing each other. I swung my feet up on the opposite seat to stretch out, and the conductor didn’t bother me – double huzzah!

I thought of the kids all along the way in Brooklyn, gunning for high-fives. When I was a little kid going to summer day camp, at the end of every afternoon, as our buses pulled out of camp, the camp director and his elderly camp-director-emeritus father would stand off to the side with their arms outstretched, and all the kids would lean out the bus windows and slap their hands. I doubt they allow that these days. I’m surprised they did then!

SUCCESS. I did it. Wow.

The sun was already going down when the train pulled into Hicksville and I pulled myself down the stairs, again using my arms quite liberally. Carson would later e-mail me this photo, which was taken at the end of his LIRR experience:






The day ended with a long, hot shower, pasta ordered in, and birthday cake. And going to sleep early, and not sleeping well because I could barely move, but being very relaxed because I had done it.

I had also done my required fundraising, collecting a total of $3,125 in contributions, more than was strictly required. Everyone who was part of Team Plosky, know this – I carried a little card with all your names written on it throughout the race. It meant a great deal that you were willing to put your money where my feet were. You believed in me, and helped me believe in myself. And yes, your thank-yous are on the way…

Bonus shout-out to Suzanne and her husband Jonathan, the final contributors. Suzanne just gave me a check yesterday!

In case I have been in any way unclear about this, I’ll say it again: THANK YOU to everyone!

THANK YOU FOR READING!

ALMOST DONE!

And now. Here I am, two weeks on. I haven’t run since, but this Tuesday, on the Veterans’ Day holiday, I finally got back on the bike and went for a short 14-mile ride, which felt like nothing. I was, naturally, extraordinarily sore and stiff in the day or two after the marathon, but I never lost the ability to walk or use the stairs, and now I am pleased to report that I think I am about 99% back to normal. The pain was not as bad as I had feared – a relief, let me tell you. No injuries, fortunately – only two small blisters (typical of my longer long runs anyway) and some underarm chafing, although that was ameliorated even during the race by the strategic application of a Vaseline-tipped popsicle stick acquired from a cheerful medical-area volunteer.

Yesterday I sent in my application to the Boston Marathon – er, the Boston Theater Marathon. Maybe this year they’ll accept, and produce, the funny little play I wrote with Carson. (Last year: “A Trip With Dad.” This year: “Character Treatments,” as well as “ABQ,” which we submitted to a different festival last year.)

OK, so that was a red herring, and not a genuine answer to the perfectly legitimate question of whether I will run another marathon. Well, I can’t wait to get back into the running – I may as soon as today, after I finish typing this, get on a plane to DC, and arrive at my fitness-center-equipped hotel. In fact, I’ve already signed up for the Jingle Bell 5K in Davis Square, on Dec. 14, the same race I ran last year that started me on the road toward this whole exercise (true no matter how you parse it). And I have plans to set personal bests over the next year in the 5K and at other distances: 5 miles, 10K, 7.5 miles, and the half-marathon. I’d even like to try a duathlon and a triathlon in ’09. Why not?

But what about another MARATHON, you want to know. Well, as I said, this wasn’t just a marathon for me – it was a whole experience: my birthday, my family, my friends, etc. Everything worked out so well, with the weather and the lack of injuries and the seamless logistics and everyone being there – how could I ever hope to top it? Plus, the training was time-consuming and the actual physical exertions were considerable… why even bother?

Well…

Wellll……

Nothing could replicate November 2, 2008. But like all marathoners, I can’t help but wonder: could I do it faster next time? If I did more cross-training and was more serious about eating right and did some flexibility and strength work? Maybe… maybe… hmm… hmm…

For now, I don’t know. I do want to do all those other races, and I intend to get right back into the swing of things. I had no idea I could do this and I want to do all I can before someone or something tells me that I should never have been able to do any of it in the first place and I have somehow been cheating all along. All I can say is, stay tuned.

And that, as they say, is that. For now. I think. One step at a time…

Stay tuned!

I'm back in Cambridge... able to walk, negotiate stairs, and vote!

Working on the official write-up... coming soon to a blog near you. More specifically: this blog. (Longest Post Ever.)

26.2

I did it!

Official time was 4:26:11 -- a pace of 10:09.

I did not walk. Strong like ox! 

Details tomorrow, if I can type... for now, it's time for birthday cake. Tired thanks, again, to everyone!

Day 142: The game is on

Weatherwatch for TOMORROW (is this overkill? I have anxiety-typing issues):

Weather.com (which says that chance precip. is 10% throughout this time)

2 am: partly cloudy, 43° (wind chill 38°), wind N 8 mph, humidity 63%

3 am: mostly clear, 41° (wind chill 35°), wind N 9 mph, humidity 62%

4 am: mostly clear, 40° (wind chill 34°), wind N 9 mph, humidity 60%

5 am: mostly clear, 39° (wind chill 33°), wind N 9 mph, humidity 60%

6 am: sunny, 38° (wind chill 32°), wind N 8 mph, humidity 65%

[weather.com then shows sunrise at 7:28... before 7:00... and they list 6 am as 'sunny'!]

7 am: sunny, 38° (wind chill 32°), wind N 8 mph, humidity 65%

8 am: sunny, 40° (wind chill 34°), wind NNE 9 mph, humidity 60%

9 am: sunny, 43° (wind chill 38°), wind NNE 9 mph, humidity 51%

[I'm due to start at 10!]

10 am: sunny, 46° (wind chill 41°), wind NNE 10 mph, humidity 46%

11 am: sunny, 48° (wind chill 44°), wind NE 9 mph, humidity 42%

12 pm: sunny, 49° (wind chill 45°), wind NE 9 mph, humidity 41%

1 pm: sunny, 50° (wind chill 47°), wind NE 8 mph, humidity 39%

2 pm: sunny, 51° (wind chill 48°), wind ENE 7 mph, humidity 38%

3 pm: sunny, 51° (wind chill 48°), wind ENE 7 mph, humidity 38%

Weather.gov still has a high of 53; another source says "highs in the upper 40s; northwest winds around 10 mph becoming northeast in the afternoon."

Am I a little neurotic?

So, it'll be a little on the chilly side. And the wind will apparently be in my face for the first 20 miles of the race... it'll feel sweet to turn around and put it at my backside for the last few.

I have been a bundle of nerves today. Many people have called or e-mailed or texted their well-wishes, which has really helped to get me through the day. I haven't been sleeping well, my nose is now running (after months of being perfectly healthy -- of course it has to be this way!), and all the carb-consumption is rapidly reducing my interest in eating. I stayed indoors nearly the entire day, getting things put together for tomorrow. I even dug out an ancient humidifier from my brother's closet in an attempt to moisten, and somehow purify, the air in my bedroom. I cannot believe that mere hours separate me from the marathon.

I did get in my last training run this morning, 2.5 miles, bringing my training distance up to exactly 500 miles (since June 14, the day after the bike trip ended). A snarling little dog darted off a porch straight for my ankles, giving me a split second to think to myself "does a freak dog-bite injury end it all, with less than a day to go?" I didn't break stride and was preparing to squash the dog underfoot when it finally disengaged and ran back to its house. The owner and I made eye contact. "Sorry," he said, and he seemed somewhat as though he meant it.

Now my clothes are laid out for tomorrow. I have my race clothes, but then I also have my bonus clothes, which I'll wear most of tomorrow morning to keep me warm. I'm glad we're adjusting clocks tonight -- don't forget! -- because it gives me an extra hour of sleep. Here's the agenda:

2:00 -- Wake up. Tend to biological business, mostly, for awhile.

3:45 -- Depart house for train station.

4:05 -- Train to Manhattan. I may ride in the bathroom, just to make efficient use of the time.

4:50 -- Clamber out of Penn Station and walk to the Public Library.

5:30 (so I'm told) -- Board bus for Staten Island.

Hours -- Stand/sit/lie around outside in the cold darkness. This is where the bonus clothes come in handy.

8:30ish -- Turn in my plastic bag of belongings. I may still need some of the bonus clothes, which will then have to be discarded just prior to the start (although volunteers will evidently gather them up and donate them to charity).

Then -- Last bathroom break prior to race (though Carson advises bringing an empty bottle to the start, just in case).

10:00 -- I'm supposed to start, but there may be a delay in actually getting to the start line. They are using a wave start this year, which should smooth things out.

I expect to see a lot of people -- my parents, Carson, Theresa, Ben, Katie, Dana, Mindy, Aaron, Frank, and maybe others -- along the way, which I think will buoy me to no small extent. No one has ever watched me during a race before, so it'll be a new experience. I'm even leaving the iPod behind, to maximize sensory perception.

Other people run marathons. I have a production. Hey, it takes a village.

It's about 6:00 PM now, pre-clock-adjustment. I will chomp on some cookies, do a couple more marathon-prep things, and will hopefully be sleeping not long from now.

To everyone who has supported me -- including my new blog-commenter-acquaintances -- THANK YOU! I realize that for the past few months I have been unable to talk of much besides the marathon, and I appreciate your enduring the earnest transmission of what I can now see a bit more clearly as utterly irrelevant details about my running, equipment, physical condition, and mental state. (Oops.) Special thanks go to all the official members of Team Plosky, who contributed to my Central Park Conservancy fundraising, which made it possible for me to run the New York City Marathon in the first place. Particular thanks to Carson, my great friend and coach -- maybe I could have done this without you, but would I ever have? You have challenged me, believed in me, and made me realize I had capabilities I did not know. And, of course, thanks to my family: my parents, my brother, my soon-to-be-sister, and, especially my grandmother, who always believed in me and loved me without question... my greatest sadness about the marathon is that she's not here to see me run it (although she is, of course, with me).

[Bonus shout-out to Crystal for being, simply, awesome.]

I remember, about a year ago, talking with Carson and Theresa about the idea of entering the December 2007 Davis Square 5K. I had run just a little bit in the years previous -- two 5Ks, not long after graduating college, and a couple of abortive attempts in 2005. Carson even put me in the right shoes and got me a shirt and shorts back in '05, but running still didn't stick; I tried a few times while I was living in Washington during the spring of '05, and I remember doing at least a couple of runs during a trip to Atlanta that June, but shin splints bothered me, and anyway I really wasn't into it. Then, that day at the office, we were discussing the race, and whether Theresa and I could run it in less than 25 minutes. Sure, I thought, since I'd done one of my 5Ks in 23:54. But I wouldn't commit to the Davis 5K... I was worried about shin splints... I thought it would be annoying to train during the winter... and so on. We were headed to lunch, and were about to go down the stairs, and all of I sudden I yelled at them, "Wait here!" -- and I darted back to the office and signed up on the web site. (I just checked my e-mail archive and, in fact, this occurred exactly one year ago today -- Nov. 1, 2007.) They thought I was nuts, but I said, "Look, I was either going to do it RIGHT THEN... or never." As it happened, a blizzard forced the postponement of the race by a week, to just a couple of days before Christmas. Carson and Theresa were out of town, so I ran alone, but with all three bibs. I met my goal, finishing in 24:19... and the rest, as they say, is history. Three months later I took a minute off my 5K time, and then it was on to a 5-miler and a 7.5-miler. At some point I started thinking about a marathon, and then New York, seeing as how it was on my birthday, and at a convenient time for training, too. I lost the general-entry lottery... but by then I was determined, and I finagled my way onto the Central Park Conservancy's team, figuring that my friends would back me up with the necessary funds. I remember hanging up the phone and turning to Carson, as we were in his car heading east, returning from the bike trip, and saying, somewhat to my surprise as reality began to sink in, "I'm in."

So now, I'm a slightly better person (I hope!), regardless of how tomorrow turns out. And slightly older, too: tomorrow is my birthday. What better way to celebrate than by running my kishkes out for 26.2 miles through the city of my birth, surrounded by 40,000 of my partners-in-sweat and millions of admirers?

IT'S ON!

Day 141: Boo! (Well, *I'm* scared!)

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Partly cloudy, high of 53° (38° at 5 am, wind chill 33°; 40° at 8 am, wind chill 35°), chance precip. 10%, wind ENE 6 mph, humidity 60%, UV index 3

(overnight low Nov. 1: 37°, chance precip. 10%)

Weather.gov for Nov. 2: Sunny, high 53°, wind NE 6–8 mph (overnight low Nov. 1: 39°)

Halloween -- the last day of rest (if that's what this is!) before the marathon. I woke up very early, part of the sleep-shifting. Bit of a sore throat! -- could be picking up a cold, or maybe it's just the cold, dry air of Long Island. Argh! Ate/drank: water, orange juice, mint tea with honey, a Stella d'Oro breakfast treat, two packets of apple-cinnamon oatmeal.

Plus, quality bathroom time, all morning. Ahhh.

I did some work, and eventually the sun came up. The bagel store didn't have any cinnamon-raisins on my way to the train station -- a bad omen? -- and when I got up to the platform at 9:12, the delayed 9:07 peak train was there, meaning that I had to fork over another $2.75 to get to the city (I had planned on taking the off-peak 9:15). But whatever.

I strolled over to the Javits Center: the race expo. What a production. I can only imagine what it's like at full tilt -- Carson had repeatedly warned me that I would have to stand in long, snaking, Disneyland-like lines. I zipped in, picked up my bib and goodie bag and T-shirt, scanned my chip, bought a couple of knickknacks at the official marathon store, picked up a couple of useless items of swag from the exhibitors, and was outta there in about an hour. Piece of cake!

Actually, no cake, but more water, plus an egg bagel (instead of a cinnamon-raising) and my customary tea with milk and sugar (should have made it honey!), plus two peanut-butter-and-honey-and-cinnamon sandwiches on wheat bread, plus a banana. The bagel store did have cinnamon-raisin bagels when I got back to Long Island, and I also picked up some throat drops, as well as a $3 leave-behind shirt from TJ Maxx. Hey, when you're freaking out, you start buying things. On Carson's advice, I eschewed all free samples at the expo (Gu being dispensed like lotion from big tubs -- blech) except for a shot of pomegranate juice, which made me smack my lips. For the second time in this blog post, this time with gusto: Ahhh!

Now, I'm going to rest, do some more work, and hide from the kiddies who will probably show up shortly, seeking candy. Dinner might be in about two hours or so, and tomorrow I'll wake up even earlier, for my last pre-marathon run (a short one), and last day of prep.

Still reading? Don't worry, the nail-biting conclusion will come soon enough...!

Before I forget! To keep up with me during the race, click here, and you'll get e-mail updates of my time -- you can search me by name (I'm the only Plosky, to no surprise). This feature is especially handy if you have a BlackBerry or iPhone or something and need real-time info because you plan to see me in the flesh -- in which case, let me know where you'll be, and I'll let you know what I'm wearing, so we can best spot each other!

Bonus: it's now 6:15 PM, and I'm bloated from pasta. The neighborhood kids are trick-or-treating. Best costume ever: a little girl came to the door dressed as a picnic table. Her head stuck up through the middle of the round table, through a paper plate. "Trick or treat!" she said, earnestly. I waited for her to proffer a plastic pumpkin, or even a bag, into which I could deposit the 'fun'-size Baby Ruth... but nothing happened. After a moment I realized her arms weren't long enough to extend out from under the table. "OK," I said, in what I hoped was an agreeable voice, and placed the Ruth on the table. "Thanks," she said, carefully balancing the Ruth as she turned to walk down the porch steps. "Careful!" cried a middle-aged woman from the sidewalk. Only on Halloween, kids, only on Halloween.

And another bonus (this one's a penalty, actually): I now have a little bit of a sniff in addition to the sore throat. Strong like bull for weeks, and now...  Well, here's hoping that a good night's sleep will put me aright.

Day 140: Carbo-loading

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Mostly sunny, 48°, chance precip. 20%, wind ENE 7 mph, humidity 57%, UV index 3

(overnight low Nov. 1: 37°, chance precip. 20%)

Weather.gov for Nov. 2: Sunny, high 54° (overnight low Nov. 1: 39°)

It's a curious thing, to have to eat more than you want to eat. Carson encountered this every day of the bike trip, during which it was necessary for him to ingest something like 7,000 calories a day -- just to survive. I'm nowhere near that requirement, but I found myself eating all day, and still wondering whether I'll be prepared for Sunday.

Carson and Theresa took me for breakfast this morning -- which actually was my breakfast no. 2, since I woke up at about 5:00 (still shifting a little each day). That gave me plenty of time to pack up and have breakfast no. 1. After no. 2 (and no. 2), I stopped at the office for a hot mugful of tea and then hit the road for New York, making pretty good time. Got some groceries at the local Trader Joe's, got in a run, got myself organized a little bit, and then cooked up a giant pot of whole-wheat pasta for carbo-loading dinner no. 1. Now it's almost 7:30, so I should be getting ready for bed! Marathon expo is tomorrow in the city.

I feel weird. A lot of anticipation. We'll see how I sleep. Not too long... alarm is set for 4. Hey, this marathoning isn't for wimps!

Day 139: Anxiety

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Mostly sunny, high 48°, chance precip. 20%, wind NE 9 mph, humidity 57%, UV index 3

(overnight low Nov. 1: 38°, chance precip. 20%)

Weather.gov is showing a high of 54° for Sunday. Go figure. You wanna bet on the private sector, or the public?

Last training run in Cambridge today, as dusk was settling over the city. Very cold and windy, but I was grimly determined. As usual, I listened to an NPR podcast (Talk of the Nation), and it occurred to me that with all the running I've done, and all the iPod-listening, I've learned a lot.

Hard to believe that it's only a few days until the Big Race. I have been reading all sorts of stuff -- for instance, because it seems that I'll be running along the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge, I need to stay away from the edge, because although the edge offers the best views, it's also the best place to get dripped on by urine from runners on the upper deck. Uh... yeah.

I will be part of an enormous crowd -- almost 40,000 runners will be starting the race. I guess this means that I'll be running with thousands of people for the entire race, and there won't be much opportunity for me to be in my own zone. I'll need to concentrate, and try not to collide with everyone else at the water stops.

Tomorrow morning: to New York! Yes. This is really happening.

Day 138: Wet & leafy

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Partly cloudy, high 50°, chance precip. 20%, wind NNE 8 mph, humidity 54%, UV index 3

(overnight low Nov. 1: 39°, chance precip. 20%)

Four more miles today on the trail. Sunset was before 6:00.

I am starting to get up earlier every day this week so I won't be in total shock when I wake up double-triple-early on Sunday -- SUNDAY! -- for the Big Race. This means that it's dark when I wake, so today I ran after work, and tomorrow I will do the same, but a bit earlier.

It was rainy most of the day today, but only drizzling when I went for the run. The trail is covered in leaves and pine needles, and everything was soaked through today -- I was paranoid about slipping and injuring myself. In fact, I've been paranoid about getting sick or injuring myself in general. Evidently this is considered a normal part of the taper... with no long running to do, the mind tends to wander, and to occupy itself with whatever horrible, sordid thoughts happen to be floating about.

I have been receiving encouragement and sage advice from many friends, which is very much appreciated.

And now, it's after 9:00, which means it's pumpkin time for me. Not beer, alas... sleep.

Day 137: Just a bit of rest

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):
Mostly sunny, high 50°, chance precip. 20%, wind N 12 mph, humidity 53%, UV index 3
(overnight low Nov. 1: 33°, chance precip. 20%)

That's it for now...

Day 136: One week to go! So... what next?

"Weatherwise, it's such a lovely day..."

At 8:00 this morning --

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Mostly sunny, high 59°, chance precip. 20%, wind SSW 7 mph, humidity 62%, UV index 3

(overnight low Nov. 1: 42°, chance precip. 20%)

At 3:00 this afternoon --

Few showers, high 54°, chance precip. 30%, wind NW 9 mph, humidity 61%, UV index 2

(overnight low Nov. 1: 42°, chance precip. 30%)

I love it when people try to predict weather. A few showers and a few degrees cooler are fine... I just hope I don't get monsooned on.

Five miles today. For the first time since the half-marathon last month in Maine, I pushed myself, just a little bit. Today's time wound up being only 20 seconds off my 5-mile race time from April. Back then, I was exhausted, and I thought I had done really well. But today I wasn't even going that hard. I wonder how much I could really shave off if I were racing 5.

I've started to think about what I'm going to do after the marathon. ML reported that not having anything on the calendar afterward was a point of unhappiness, and I agree. I'm looking at other races, including some of the ones I did this year, and trying to make a plan. One big question is: will I do another marathon? Of course, I can't answer that one until I answer this one: will I do THIS marathon? I was encouraged by ML's finish last weekend and further encouraged today by my friend Andy, who completed the Marine Corps Marathon in DC, and by Carson, who rocked his morning race up in Lowell.

I'm feeling pretty good, and not really minding the not running. I'm trying to eat a bit better and sleep a bit more, and to shift my clock a little earlier to prepare for the race... only SEVEN DAYS away. Frightening. I will have to be at the staging area, outside the New York Public Library in midtown, to board a 5:30 AM bus to Staten Island, which means, working backward, I have to wake up REALLY early, to allow proper time for orienting, eating, using the bathroom (several times), and getting to midtown. Yikes and a half.

If you're interested in watching me run next Sunday, please e-mail me, and I will send you some notes, in case you haven't yet been briefed. It would be amazing to see friends (and even hecklers) along the way, even if you will be seeing me at my worst. Or, perhaps... at my best.

Day 135: Break out the maps

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Partly cloudy, high 61°, chance precip. 20%, wind W 8 mph, humidity 64%, UV index 3

The weather forecast remains steady. Good!

Looked over the marathon course map with Carson today and began to draw up the Master Spectator Plan. If you're interested in watching part of the race, check out the course map yourself.

Six miles today, on the trail. Still keeping up a pretty good pace.

Rain is on the way. With any luck, it'll end tomorrow morning, so that my next run can be done in dryness. I have been very fortunate as concerns the weather.

Now: one more bagel.

Day 134: Wait for the dawn

Weatherwatch for Nov. 2 (from weather.com):

Partly cloudy, high 61°, chance precip. 20%, wind NNE 7 mph, humidity 64%, UV index 3

Evidently the average high for Nov. 2 is 58°, with a record high (from 1950) of 83°. Yikes.

This is an excellent forecast, except that a north wind would be in my freakin' face for most of the first 20 or so miles (although with a tailwind for the end). We'll see how the forecast changes over the next week or so.

I was supposed to do a pre-dawn, 30-degree run with Katie early this morning, but I bailed, instead opting for extra sleep. Hey, I'm tapering! I did get in my 4 miles later in the day. Today was supposed to be a rest day, but since I didn't run Wednesday, I ran today. Next scheduled rest day: Monday.

A few people were over at the Norris Palace for bagels last night, which was really nice. Major props to Crystal for bringing chocolate-chip cookies, which I l-o-v-e. Bigbig.

Christopher's had CBC pumpkin on tap. Excellent to know.

And now: time to sleep. Tomorrow: the last "long" run, and a few other marathon-related preps.

Day 133: The return

Back in Cambridge. Bagels on the table. Four more miles on the trail under my belt. (Next to the bagels, in a manner of speaking.)

It's getting cold. Leaves and pine needles covered the trail and I was worried about slipping. Now that I have no long runs to worry about, I'm worrying about other things, like injuring myself. I put the living-room air conditioner in the pantry today, and I had visions of being crushed underneath it, or severing my toes, or having one of my legs pop out of its socket.

Have I mentioned that the seasonal time change ("fall back") takes place during the night of Nov. 1-2? An extra hour of sleep for me the night before the marathon. This is good, because I will need to be in position, outside the New York Public Library in Manhattan, at 5:30 AM on race day to catch the bus to Staten Island. And then, since my start isn't until 10:00, I'll have hours to freeze my butt off outdoors. Oh, joy!

I've only got a few days here to take care of a bunch of stuff, and then it's back to New York on Thursday. Potential spectators: stay tuned for viewing details, especially if you'd like to meet up with one or more of my roving gangs of family/friends.

Tomorrow: the weatherwatch begins. How many times will the forecast change between Oct. 24 and Nov. 1, and how will any of them compare to the actual weather? I should start a pool.

Back to the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, who for some reason is picking his schnoz as he narrates the day's happenings. Boy, PBS has really gone downhill. And upnose.

Day 132: Effects

First, let me note that I ran 4 miles yesterday, and I was supposed to run 4 today, but I didn't. Busy day, as you'll hear shortly. Yesterday morning, there was frost on the grass here in Syosset. It has been cold -- but sunny -- all week. At long last, the 10,000 bug bites I received on the insides of my knees, courtesy of the insectoid residents of Chincoteague, have disappeared. (My mom reminded me that a couple of years ago up at Acadia, I alone, out of a crowd of [mostly elderly] bus tourists, was targeted by mosquitoes. I guess they find me irresistible.)

Today, as yesterday, my family was at my grandmother's apartment in Brooklyn, going through her belongings and trying to see to them. I got a van today so my brother and I could rescue some stuff, which is now in my parents' garage, but except for some of the smaller items, most of the big pieces -- including some heavy, probably valuable furniture -- will be given over to a wholesaler-type guy, who will liquidate the remaining contents. I guess it's just not practical to save some of this stuff, which I understand, but it is a shame. I suppose I had thought that everything could just be preserved in situ for an indeterminate period of time: surely, as a museum, the place could endure. No.

Fortunately, the smaller items include a few meaningful keepsakes, including many pictures and other curios I had never seen before (e.g., my grandma's engagement notice from 1939). My mom and my aunt were repeatedly moved to tears, and toward the end of the day, we all sort of lost it for a little bit.

For today, of course, was also the last time I will ever be at my grandmother's place. I remember staying over many times as a kid, with the window open in my mom and aunt's old bedroom, listening to the Brooklyn traffic honking below. I remember playing the piano with two fingers, and my grandmother insisting that I wait until later in the day, lest I wake the neighbors. (Not much chance of that.) I remember playing cards, and pushing the elevator buttons, and a hundred other tiny little things... and I guess the way these things work is, I always will.

All of this meant that I missed my scheduled run today. It just wasn't going to happen. It occurred to me today that although I have been pretty faithful about the running, and I actually feel pretty good, I haven't done much of the other stuff that people who are running marathons are probably supposed to do: biking, swimming, eating smartly, sleeping enough, pushups/situps, strength training, Pilates, whatever. I compensated for my feelings of inadequacy and confusion about my grandma by driving the rental van like a maniac, which scared the crap out of my brother (who was for some reason moved to remind me that his childhood car accident has given him a lifelong fear of car accidents). Plus, we had to avoid the parkways, which do not permit commercial traffic... although maybe we wouldn't have been considered "commercial" anyway. "Can we drive on the Belt?" my brother asked the U-Haul woman. She peered at us through her glasses. "I wouldn't." As it was, they ended up undercharging me by about $50. The single best experience I have ever had with U-Haul.

It also occurred to me that Sunday was actually a great day. Weather favored the funeral, and then, back at the house, we were surrounded by family and friends, including a lot of people I hadn't seen in forever. Normally I can't stand that kind of stuff, but Sunday, everything felt right, and in addition to everyone else, I was glad to see Scott and Jansen, who unfortunately were paying multiple shiva calls during their visit to the Island. Of course, Monday got to be a bit much, already, although my friends Dana and Mindy came by, which was really nice, and they brought cider, as opposed to ten more pounds of bagels or danish. (Oy gevalt.)

Today, after going through my grandma's possessions for two days, I'm a little overwhelmed. It's too much. Much as I have felt in the right place the past few days, I am eager to get back to Cambridge. Like my grandmother, I'm a pack rat, but now I'm thinking that I should go through my own stuff, so that if anything happens to me, no one has to do with my stuff what had to be done with my grandma's stuff. Of course, the first thing I'll have to do when I get back is to sort through the subset of stuff I just took from her house, which seems to me to be a bit of an irony, but one I appreciate.

Just got back from dinner at Ben's, a local-institution-type deli. ("We cure our own corned beef; our chicken soup cures everything else.") So many people sent us food platters from Ben's that they started to call and ask whether we really wanted so much food; my parents made some of the platters magically turn into gift certificates instead, which covered dinner. And, last night, my mom's friends ordered in Italian for us. Remember what I said above about not eating right? I guess it's OK for the sense of family and community to override the training, for once. *burp*

Day 130: Laughter

Four more miles this morning. The autumn weather continues in spectacular fashion.

Due to poor planning, my iPod battery gave out in the middle of Car Talk, but other entertainments awaited. As I was running past one of my alma maters (almas mater?), Harry B. Thompson Middle School, a gym class was in progress. About 20 kids were huffing across the playing field. One of them spied me in the road and called out: “Wanna jog with us? It’s fun!” I laughed out loud.

I remember one day at Thompson: classes ended, and we went out to get on our buses. But our regular bus wasn’t there; a suspiciously old bus, and a suspiciously old driver, awaited us. I stepped up into the bus, quickly assessed the driver as boozy, turned around, and walked home. I had never done that before, and Thompson seemed awfully far from my house, but I knew the way, and the weather was nice, and I was up for an adventure. Now, of course, the distance (less than three-quarters of a mile) was covered in but an eyeblink.

Now: I have to do some work. Dozens of e-mails to read, projects hanging in midair… I have to stay on top of all of that. Family, running, and work, don’t you know.

Day 129: Detour

It is a confusing time.

I am training for a marathon, which is two weeks from today. I have a crippling amount of stuff to deal with at work, and all the traveling I've been doing has been distracting me.

And my grandmother died.

Many of my friends knew that Beatrice Gold was not the typical 91-year-old grandmother. She was very close with me and my brother, e-mailing us every day. I remember when I asked her once, maybe about 10 years ago, if she'd like a computer. "No," she said, thinking as usual that whatever I was proposing would involve making a fuss, and she never liked to make a fuss. I ignored her, and soon she was e-mailing everyone. Before that, during my childhood, she shaped my love of all things transportation; she took me all over New York on the subway, and we had countless adventures. She was always unquestioning, uncritical, and unceasingly loving, and I loved her for that. She delighted in meeting my friends and remembered every detail of their lives: who was together with whom, who was changing jobs... she forgot nothing. Her loss is profound. And because my family is very small and we have had the good fortune not to experience death during nearly my entire lifetime, it's especially difficult.

I was in Chincoteague, Virginia, on Friday morning when my dad called with the news. I figured he was calling to rib me about the Sox having pulled off a remarkable recovery in Game 5 of the ALC, roaring back from 7-0 with two out in the seventh to beat Tampa Bay, 8-7. (He e-mailed me after the score reached 7-0: "Maybe next year." Then he went to sleep and missed the comeback, which I also missed, because I was so exhausted that I couldn't stay up.) But no such luck.

I had been planning to fly straight to New York on Friday, to visit my grandma, and then to return to Boston on Saturday. Instead, I flew back to Boston, packed the car with some appropriate stuff, and drove to Long Island, arriving at about 8:30. I actually took the time for a short run during my brief Cambridge stopover: it was cathartic.

I also did my last long run yesterday morning. It was supposed to be 15 miles, according to the plan, but Carson had advised knocking it down to 12 miles. Conditions were good, but I was not really in the mood to run, and I didn’t carbo-load properly in the days beforehand, and my right leg ached, so I completed only 10.5 miles, although I took a full mile for my cooldown walk. Picked up my brother and his fiance from JFK in the evening. My cousin also arrived from Phoenix; they, my parents, and my aunt and uncle all went for dinner. Spanish food. Not bad.

Today was the funeral, with a simple graveside service. An unexpectedly large crowd showed up, including some cousins with whom I was not acquainted. I saw my great-grandmother’s grave for the first time; I remember her very faintly, and I recall that when she died, my grandmother covered the mirrors in her apartment with sheets. (My mother did the same thing at her house today.) They say this rabbi officiated at the funeral of Alan King.

Then came the first day of what is called “sitting shiva,” where a massive amount of food is laid on and guests are invited to come by and share happy memories. I saw many of my parents’ friends, some for the first time in years upon years. Josh sent a soup platter and other items, and Leah also sent a package of food despite sitting shiva for her own grandmother. Amazingly wonderful. Crystal and Finn (and Kevin) announced their intention to drive from Boston, which moved me tremendously, but I insisted that they not make the journey on my account, and that just their offer to do so meant as much to me as if they had made the trip.

In all, more than 30 of my friends have been in touch to support me through this – and Scott and Jansen came to the house today from the city, which really boosted me. Thank you to everyone for your love, comfort, kind words, and offers to help. It has been a very strange time, and I haven’t been sure what to say or what to think.

I did have one moment of clear thinking, on Friday, after I ran on the Minuteman Bikeway, with no iPod to distract me from the red, orange, and yellow leaves drifting gently down from the azure sky. It occurred to me that running was one way for me to leave all the tumult of the world behind and just go out into the distance, if only for a short while. My grandmother was dead, I thought. But for four more miles, I was alive.

Life

My grandmother, Beatrice Gold, has died.

I am with family in New York. More soon.

Day 125: Nice Ass(ateague)

Or, taking it on the Chin(coteague).

Yes, I'm back in Maryland. Or Virginia. At Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. And Assateague Island National Seashore. Funny how that works.

Flew in the morning. Worked a bit in the afternoon. Ran 4. Dinner with colleagues. And now yet another presidential debate. At least the Sox get to rest a bit. They might still win. (Might.)

Day 124: Whole lotta Volp

12+ hours at the office today, but I got a lot done. And fortunately, I ran (4 miles) before work. I was so in the zone that as I set off, Katie had to yell at me a few times before I noticed her -- she had just finished her run as I was starting (about 6:45).

And that's about it. Tomorrow: to Maryland and Virginia via Pennsylvania, a four-state day. Eeexcellent.

Day 123: Taper

So I'm into the taper. Today is a holiday (Columbus Day), and I thought about getting on the bike for a leisurely ride; I haven't biked since September 16th. But then I thought about staying home and drinking tea and catching up on things like laundry and bill-paying, and biking finished in second place.

Although the worst of the physical training is now over, they say the taper is when it starts to get tough mentally: not running so much, after running so much, plays havoc with the psyche. It is during this time, I guess, that I'll have to focus on rest, sleep, and relaxation. Difficult with everything else going on, and maybe even more difficult than the physical side. I have to admit that I had planned a more comprehensive, serious approach to training, including more biking, swimming, and a far better approach to nutrition (the approach I adopted: devour everything in sight, as per usual practice). Regardless, I am here, and now I have to get ready for the Main Event. That they say you shouldn't run for a month after a marathon, despite the training plan calling for a 3-miler the day after a 20-miler, merely underscores how vastly greater a challenge it is to tack on those last 6.2 miles on race day. I'm reminded of Rodney Dangerfield's line in "Back to School," toward the end, where he has to take an oral exam to avoid getting expelled and the punctilious business professor gleefully unloads an impossibly convoluted question: "Piece of cake!"

(Carson is already telling me that after consulting with his even crazier friend Rich, I should bump next week's 15-miler down to a 12-miler.)

So I soldier on. Fortunately, the legs are recovering well. I have already been up and down the stairs a lot this morning working on the laundry, and I have been able to negotiate them better than, say, the Bush administration might have done. I remember that after I ran my first 5K (of the 'modern era') back in December, I could barely handle the stairs. Of course, immediately after that race, I helped Sean shovel out his driveway... and his neighbors'. And recall that that 5K had been delayed due to blizzard. Hmm. Always gotta leave something in the tank.

Speaking of which, tonight: pumpkin beer and Game Three!

Day 122: Applefest

Last weekend was the Applefest half-marathon, in which I did not run, because although a 12-miler was part of the training plan, I was advised that the Bar Harbor half was enough for me in terms of races.

Today featured an early-morning short run with Rachel... I recorded it as 3.15 miles. I was a little leery of running at all today because of what I expected would be horrifying knee and leg pains, but I wasn't as stiff as I feared when I woke up (I wore the shin and knee covers last night), and the run was actually OK. My benchmark for leg pain remains how I felt after a long flight to Boise and a long drive to Sun Valley after a long run... I could barely walk up and down the staircase at the hotel. Today, I stiffened up at various times during the day, but after loosening up, I was able to walk, and even to negotiate stairs. Fantastic.

The foliage on the Minuteman Bikeway is starting to look lovely. We stopped at Spy Pond for a few minutes to take in the morning view. Again, fantastic fall weather. (I wore my New York City Marathon shirt, which arrived via the mails.)

The morning short run was followed by a gorge-ous brunch at S&S, followed by a short mission to the Back Bay, and then apple-picking in Stow. After enduring a long, long traffic jam on the way into the Disneyland-like orchard, we made our way in and asked where we should go. "You show up late in the afternoon, late in the season, and expect apples?" the guy in the booth asked, incredulously. But he lowered his voice and told us to walk up the hill, which we did, and were rewarded with enough apples to fill two bags. Unfortunately, the cider-donut line was WAY too long even to contemplate, but fortunately, I had earlier procured two chocolate donuts from Verna's, my neighborhood fixture, and we feasted on those as we returned to Cambridge. CBC was out of pumpkin-beer growlers (ALL growlers, actually)... but we'll return.

Tomorrow: Game Three!

Note: according to my computations, I burned 2,500 calories during yesterday's 20.25-miler. Frightening. Carson burned something like 5,000 calories during most days of the bike trip... but he was covering 80 or 90 or 100 miles!

Also: THREE WEEKS until the marathon. For those interested in watching along the course... stay tuned for some notes on how best to position yourselves!

Day 121: A week for the strong

I ran TWENTY MILES. But first, the news:

Friday was, fortunately, a rest day. My brother and I spent it in Brooklyn with my grandmother, and we had a nice time. At dinner with my parents, I ate pasta, pasta, and more pasta, and... "are you eating those garlic knots?" Later in the evening, my Phoenix aunt and uncle turned up at the house.

This morning, I set out on the epic final long-long-long training run. Out of the development, along Woodbury Road, and then up the LIE service road to Round Swamp Road... then down to Bethpage State Park, up to Jericho Turnpike, back to the LIE service road, and back to Syosset, with a few detours and extra blocks during the way. It actually worked out to be 20 miles and a quarter: WOW. Sunny, cloudless day, temperature rising from about 50 at the start to close to 70... I removed my hat and gloves as I went along. Didn't drink all the fluid I had with me or eat all the gels, which I guess is a good sign.

After about an hour I realized I needed to pee, which hasn't happened on the long runs before due to careful pre-running preparations. I frowned as I considered my options, but I realized that this was supposed to be a training run, which meant training for all aspects of the marathon: the running and the ancillary stuff. So I ducked into the woods and peed, and resumed running. No problem... in fact, I felt a lot better. So now, if I need to stop and pee during the marathon, I should know what to do. Mostly, pee. Also, as I ran along, I became less shy about being just a tad gassy from all the pasta. Hey... YOU run 20 miles and see what happens!

Traffic on Round Swamp Road was heavier than I'd figured on, and many of the drivers seemed to react with astonishment on seeing me in the road, running against traffic. The Minuteman Bikeway this ain't. I saw only a few other runners and bikers... all of whom insisted on waving at me, California-style. Uh, shared community? (Freaks! ... Oh, all right... just kidding.)

Toward the end of the run, as with my near-20-miler two weeks ago, my legs became very leaden, and it was difficult to finish. But I did. I even walked for about 10 minutes afterward, before sitting down, to make sure I would be OK. That was hard. My knees on both sides were very sore and tender; for the rest of the day, I'll have trouble walking, and I'm not looking forward to all the time I'll be spending cooped up in the car this afternoon: first to Brooklyn, to see everyone all together at my grandma's before my brother hits JFK to head home to LA, and then back to Cambridge. Oy.

Listening to the news during the drive to New York, one of the anchors remarked that it has truly been "a week for the strong." It's more true than she realized -- the game of life is tough... they say that no one gets out alive. We'll see.

Day 119: Escape

Sometimes there's just so much going on that spending a few minutes out on the road really is a way to escape... from everything.

This morning I woke up, packed up the car, and hit the road. I had to stop at work for a little while because my work computer had evidently gotten jammed up on something and I wasn't able to connect to it remotely. So I unfroze it. But the time required to do this meant that I couldn't run in the morning... I would have woken up earlier, but I thought I needed at least a modicum of sleep.

Drove to Brooklyn, actually making good time, and spent the day there with my grandmother, my brother, and my parents. Things seem sort of stable for the moment but obviously not good. The social worker came for a little while and I eavesdropped on her talking quietly with my grandma about what happens from here. Very strange.

One bright spot is that my dad and brother and I took a break and went down to the corner to Cuccio's, the bakery that has since childhood supplied me with chocolate-chip cookies and other goodies. Even though the neighborhood is now mostly Russian, at least the few Italians who run Cuccio's are still around, including the old, old woman who sits in the chair behind the counter, surrounded by groaning shelves of pastries (which in itself is weird -- who buys all that stuff, and do they throw out a lot of it and make fresh stuff?). I got cookies, my brother got a danish, my dad got a donut for himself and had a cream puff custom-manufactured for my mom, and when the old woman said, "There's nothing better than a good cup of coffee," and put on a fresh pot, my dad got some coffee, too. I went across the street to Rite Aid, which used to be a Key Food, and it almost made me cry that there were five brands of good old seltzer on offer (Seagram's, Schweppes, Canada Dry, Perrier, and Pellegrino) -- in most of the country, you cannot get even one.

Drove back to Long Island in the evening, and finally there was time for a run, which once again was done at sunset, for the third time this week. At one point as I went along (4.1 miles), I noticed that the pink glow of the sky matched the hue of the streetlights coming on. The iPod was blaring in my ear, cars with lit headlights hurtled by, I wondered about my grandma, work e-mails were piling up by the dozen, and with each step -- almost 500 miles now, since I started the marathon training -- my whole body pounded into the ground... but that moment of pink was even better than the seltzer and cookies: the best time of the day.

Day 118: In the dark

Running togs on, I was literally heading out the door when the phone rang. "Hey." It was Katie. "Have you run yet today?" She was on the commuter train, heading home.

It was already close to sunset. "No," I said. And then, cautiously, "I've never run in the dark."

Well, I waited for Katie, and we ran in the near-dark, followed by the dark. Almost halfway into the 4-miler, at Spy Pond, we spied Erik(-2) and Julie, and stopped to chat with them for a bit. It was spooky during the run back along the Minuteman Trail, but hey, it's October. Cricket-song and other outdoor noises accompanied us as we chugged along. "This reminds me of summer camp!" I said. "Cool!" Katie said. I had to remind her: "I hated summer camp." "What do you mean?" Katie demanded: "Didn't everyone like Girl Scout Camp?" Only the cookies, Katie.

Tomorrow morning: back to New York, to join my grandmother, parents, and brother. Even my aunt and uncle will be coming in from Phoenix. Not sure what will happen next... still in the dark, I suppose.

Bonus: I've been assigned Wave Start #2 for the race, which means my gun goes off at 10:00 (so to speak).

Day 117: Dusk

I remember back in June running back and forth over the bridges of Pittsburgh at sunset, watching the skies redden and the shadows lengthen. It wasn't quite as glamorous at dusk today, haunting my usual four miles along the Minuteman Bikeway, but I'll pit the vista at Spy Pond against the towers of Steel City any evening.

(I would have run in the morning, but the Sox game meant I got to sleep late, and I thought that waking up super-early would have been the wrong approach to the day.)

Having yesterday as a rest day actually has helped to make a big difference in my knees and in the non-knee areas of my legs. I felt for the most part as though I was running on fresh(er) legs. Have I mentioned that since I started running last November -- and this may sound ridiculous, but it's true, and I lament not realizing until too late that photographic evidence might have been felicitous -- my legs actually have grown new muscles? For real. Think tree trunks. Yes.

Now I'm watching Tom Brokaw try to physically insert himself between Barack Obama and John McCain; John's pounding his fists on Barry's skull-bone, and Obama looks like he's reaching inside his suit jacket for a derringer. I'm so happy that with all the turmoil the world is now going through, we can always rely on good old American politics as one of the true constants of the universe.

(Reminds me of the dialogue from Star Trek VI. Klingon General Chang: "I am constant as the northern star!" Bones: "I'd give real money if he'd shut up!")

Day 116: Bay slays Rays (?)

A nice night for nine innings of hardball happiness at friendly Fenway.

First: yesterday. I jetted to New York in the morning and spent a nice few hours with my mom and grandma in Brooklyn. We sat around the kitchen table eating -- what else? -- Bagel Boss bagels, thick with cream cheese. "These are better than usual," my grandmother quipped, and indeed they were: soft, chewy, and eminently satisfying. I flew home in the evening, and we'll see what happens. My brother flew from L.A. today and will be going to Brooklyn tomorrow.

Now: today. It got pretty cold (and in fact, it's cold now, after midnight as I write this), and a lump formed in the collective throat of the Fenway Faithful after Okajima's "okie-dokie" pitch failed to fool the Angels in the eighth, but the bottom of the ninth was worth the (staggering) price of admission. We won! Now: on to the pennant, where our once-and-always left fielder, Jason Bay, will doubtless continue terrorizing the unusually successful Rays of Tampa Bay, a team name and location that will probably always sound foreign to the purists of the game. It's funny; my brother saw the Dodgers clinch their division series in L.A. over the weekend, and I just saw the Sox win their division series, and they may yet meet in the playoffs. Manny, Nomar, Derek Lowe back in Boston? Managed by Joe Torre? Stranger things may have happened, but I can't think of any of them.

... Isn't this a running blog? Never a better day for a rest. (As per the plan, of course.)

Day 115: On a wing and a prayer

Four miles at dawn. Now, on to Brooklyn.

Day 114: Inter arma enim silent leges

Training for the marathon has been the most regimented part of my life for the past few months. I consider myself fairly undisciplined, and motivation for various endeavors is often a problem in general -- but sticking with the training plan has really helped me to focus. Unfortunately, there aren't training plans for the other parts of my life: anything -- or nothing -- goes, as usual.

Per the plan (or, as I call it with Katie, the 'regimen,' which is a distinct part of a total-life 'plan'), I completed a dozen more miles this morning. Would have made it a baker's dozen, but around mile 5 I started to worry that I was going to have some stomach troubles, so I decided to turn around at (what I guessed was) mile 6 instead of mile 6.5. Turned out to be a false alarm, but better to be safe than sorry.

Somewhat in the same vein, Carson and I made plans to do a 40- or 50-mile bike ride tomorrow to take advantage of the sparkling Boston autumn (I reasoned that 50 miles pedaling has got to equal 4 miles running). But the plans were suspended: my grandmother is unwell and I will jet down to New York tomorrow for the day, to be with her and my mother. Sometimes you just have to sweep everything aside to address what is truly important, and this is one of those times.

Day 113: 30 days

Five more pre-dawn treadmill miles at the Austin hotel. No super-duper-extra leg room on the flight back home -- just the regular amount -- which means my legs are in fact a little stiff as I write this, but I'll live. It might have been nice if the escalator had been working on the way up from the Davis Square T station, but I'm used to hauling all my stuff up multiple flights of stairs, aren't I? Aren't you? I asked Julie -- she boarded my Red Line train at Downtown Crossing and we sat together for the rest of the ride to Davis. She just looked at me like I'm nuts. But it's SHE who's nuts. Plus, her husband, Erik(-2). And her brother, Eric(-4). Actually, I don't know how her brother spells his name.

(Erich(-3) is Michelle's husband. Michelle, how's the umlaut working out?)

Lots of work ahead for Ike recovery. On the JetBlue flight, at least I had Judge Judy to crack me up.

Bonus: Going through the week's worth of mail waiting for me at home, I discovered the 2008 New York City Marathon Official Handbook. Sleepy... so sleepy.

Day 112: One month to go

Six more early-morning miles here in Austin. And only one more month of preparation to go.

It's an interesting time. Soon, the taper will be at hand. Soon, I'll be able to focus on rest and nutrition. But until then, I have a lot more running to do, including three more long runs: 20, 12, and 15 miles. It's funny how my attitude toward running has changed: this morning, on CNN, there was a segment highlighting a woman who has run two half-marathons, and my reaction was, so what? I actually had to think a moment before remembering that not long ago, the idea of running even five miles was a ludicrous consideration.

Running has become important to me, and I have taken pains (and suffered pains) to ensure that I have enough time to do my training. Today there was an article in the New York Times highlighting the importance of relaxing during running, and I always do try to relax. It can be a little stressful to run in the morning, knowing that you've got to finish up and shower and get dressed and start a long day of work. It was particularly stressful this morning, in the Residence Inn fitness center, because Fox News was blaring on the TV in front of me (and the Today Show was blaring on the TV next to me, causing even more auditory confusion). But it is also a respite, when it goes well.

And now, back to Biden and Palin. Yeesh.

Day 110: Batty in Austin

Got to Austin yesterday morning. First, the running stuff:

Taking Sunday off was an excellent idea. My knees were sore and, worryingly, my right hamstring (?) was bothering me. Even though I worried about stiffening up on the plane ride to Austin (despite shelling out a few of my own bucks for super-duper leg room), I was also able to enjoy my regularly scheduled day off yesterday... so when I ran today, 5 miles, I was fine. Very pleased. I ran on the hotel treadmill, though, because it was dark when I started my run in the morning -- and still dark when I finished. I'd like to see Austin, which requires sunlight.

Now, the other stuff, although briefly because I still have work to do this night:

The FEMA operation here, responding to Hurricane Ike, is actually pretty well organized -- better than I expected. My two colleagues and I have a lot of work to do and we hit the ground running as soon as we arrived. Today was a long day and tomorrow will be a longer day, with an early-morning drive to Fort Worth for three meetings throughout the day.

Tonight, a bit after sunset, we saw the famous Austin bat migration from under the Congress Street Bridge. Freaky... but none of the bats resembled Michael Keaton. Or Val Kilmer. Or even Adam West.

Lots of Mexican food. Go figure. If ever I remember the distinctions between rellenos, enchiladas, flautas, tostadas, burritos, chalupas, tamales, and all the other stuff, I'll be doing well. And probably eating well, too.

Tomorrow night: ALDS Game One. Go Sawx!