Not a Police Officer

Today's run was supposed to be an 8-miler, but since I already had a surplus for the week and had 18 miles scheduled for tomorrow, I stopped at ~ 7 miles and decided to walk back home. Home is in downtown Louisville, KY. The walk requires that I pass the site of the former Bojangles restaurant on East Broadway. While we were all sad to see Bojangles close it's greasy doors, the city rejoiced when The Chicken King moved in and started serving its delicious brand of southern keel, beans and cornbread.

Know who loves The Chicken King? Folks do. Know who else loves The Chicken King? Derelicts. Hobos. Bindlestiffs. Ragamuffins. Me. Mental defectives. The chronically intoxicated. A member of that last group (and very likely several of the other aforementioned groups) accosted me on my walk home. He, like many of the less fortunate, apparently has a tendency to directly address people who are wearing headphones and are clearly disengaged from their surroundings. Nevertheless he maintained eye contact and kept speaking. So, I removed my headphones. This did not render his communication at all clearer. Fortunately, he had a lady friend, who appeared to be Wanda Sykes and who was able to translate. I will now provide a transcript for all 0 of the readers of this fine blog.

Cast: Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd (OCB), Wanda Sykes (WS), Me (ML)
Setting: Parking Lot of The Chicken King

OCB: You a police officer!? (vaguely accusatory tone)

WS: He aint' no po-lice officer. Look at him.

OCB: Ain't all white people officers? You never know.

ML: I assure you, I am not a police officer

WS: See! I told you so, Oil Can!

OCB: I'm just tryna get something to eat, gnome sane, I'm just starvin' like Marvin, gnome sane.

ML: I understand. Perhaps you wouldn't be so aware of your hunger pangs if you and that strangely appetizing smell of secret spices and grease from the long-departed Bojangles weren't loitering in the parking lot of The Chicken King.

WS: Damn, I miss Bojangles. You ain't gwyne ta arrest us now, are you?

ML: I might. Oil Can Boyd just deputized me.

OCB: Don't you got a dollar or something? (Uttered while removing a handful of pennies from a frayed pant pocket and dropping all over the sidewalk)

ML: Actually, I was just out running and rarely carry cash. I would gladly give you a dollar if I had it, but I doubt that reassurance goes far towards satisfying your hunger. I am sorry about all of it. I promise not to arrest you, though.

OCB: Don't be sorry. Never be sorry for nuthin'. God bless you. (extending hand)

ML: Okay. I'm not sorry, Oil Can. Can I be sorry that Bojangles closed? (extending hand, attempting a handshake, which goes horribly awry when OCB suddenly initiates one of those new-fangled, three-phase handshakes)

That's pretty much how it occurred. It was the first time I've ever been accused of being a police officer. In Oil Can's defense, most whities are cops.

Game Changer!

I'm a game changer! The kind of game changer who comes up to the plate with the bases loaded and 0 outs in the bottom of the ninth of a one run game. The kind of game changer who only needs to put the ball into play to be effective. The kind of game changer who promptly hits into an unassisted triple play.

Took off yesterday to rest the legs a bit, so I made up for it today with an easy 4-miler. In the rain. Down by the river. Louisville's Riverfront Park is the starting/changing point of this weekend's Ironman event. Apparently, the entrants are to swim in the Ohio River. Hopefully, the course officials will remove the shopping carts, tires, trees and corpses from the banks before the event starts. It's pretty disgusting down there.

26 miles split between tomorrow and Sunday. Sunday's 18-miler will be my longest run yet. Hopefully I won't die in the 94 degree heat. If I do, I can still be a game changer. Just ask Norm Coleman about what a game changer a dead Paul Wellstone was.

Miles Surplus

After a 7.25 mile run yesterday and an 8 mile run today, I've built up a 2.25 mile surplus for the week. I think I'll roll those 2.25 miles into tomorrow's run and turn that 5 miler into a ~ 3 miler. My legs are still rather tight from Sunday's long run. I could use the break.

Since I started this training program, I've run 318.98 miles. Oh, wait, I'm in Kentucky. So, let me restate that: Since I started this training program, I've RAN 318.98 miles. Folks in this part of the country struggle mightily with the past perfect.

18 miles this Sunday. Hopefully it'll be cooler than it was this past Sunday (90+ degrees).

Tim McGraw, Kip Winger and I, Oh My!

With my 17 mile run today, I joined some pretty prestigious company. While I've always felt a certain kinship with Kip, he of the great hair band Winger and Tim McGraw, he of, well, the sappy, condescending, manipulative machine that is modern American country music, today I officially cemented that connection. 17 is not a number to be taken lightly. It has inspired no fewer than two terrible Billboard hits. That trickster age that has lured so many great men (I can only assume Winger and McGraw are among them) into taking the jail bait. As McGraw, in all of his wisdom, points out, "seventeen only comes once in a lifetime." It's a big number. A special number. And I am proud to have reached it today. 9.2 more to go (miles that is, everyone knows women lose all of their luster upon reaching 18).

Today's run followed the first 8.5 miles of the course of the Cherokee Road Runner's Louisville Marathon. Or, at least the route they link to on their web site 2008 Louisville Marathon Course Map. Strangely, this seems to be the course that the Derby Festival Marathon follows, not riverside course that the CRR Louisville Marathon has traditionally followed. Perhaps some has their wires crossed?

Yesterday's 8-miler was a quick and jaunty one along the Riverwalk. I was nearly knocked into the river by a shirtless man on a motorcycle who was negotiating the 6-7 foot wide trails at 35 miles per hour. A fantasy involving a large rock, the man's helmet-less head and a floating corpse propelled me forward and allowed me to finish with a pace of 7:00. I find that over-the-top anger and (imagined) disproportionate responses always increases my pace. But seriously, the guy was a reckless bastard and really could have killed someone and it almost definitely would not have been him. In all likelihood, it would be some gifted, young, inspiring athlete who had overcome some obscure disease acquired during his or her desperate flight from some war-torn country.

I'll conclude this with a bit from Heather Havrilesky that eloquently skewers Bob Costas's smug, disproportionate response to Usain Bolt's 100m finish

Bolt enjoys joking around with his competitors. One of his shoes was untied when he ran the 100-meter race. His technique is described as sloppy and amateurish. He polished off a bunch of Chicken McNuggets right before the race. He's that kind of a guy. He's 21 years old, for Chrissakes! He became the fastest man on earth by a long shot, breaking his own record, while every other contender huffed and puffed along several feet behind him. How would anyone dare to claim that he owed it to the fans to run even faster, or that he disrespected them by celebrating a little early? What in the world is Costas, space alien from Planet Honky, talking about? Why should Bolt care about class, of all provincial, bourgeois values? What the hell is class, anyway, but some arbitrary code that soulless, high-capitalist professional robots live by?

Heat-Related Illness

According to The American Red Cross, heat-related illnesses (HRI) include (but are not necessarily limited to) heat exhaustion, heat stroke and heat cramps. I'm sure there are more. Is death an illness? What is it called when one overindulges oneself with water and expires? Certainly, heat-related illnesses are not maladies with which one would be wise to trifle.

Today, I trifled with heat exhaustion. Or at least experienced some of the less severe hallmarks of heat-related illnes. For the past 3 weeks, the weather in Louisville has been unseasonably great. The temperature has stayed below 90 and the humidity has been below 30%. However, today's high temperature reached 93. In this heat, I ran 8 miles along the river.

After a long stretch of direct sun, I began to feel a bit dizzy and weak. My head began to hurt a bit. And I began to notice some dryness in the throat. It occurred to me that I was likely experiencing heat-related illness. Was it chronic? Perhaps genetic? Was it a result of irresponsible behavior in the wilder days of my youth? Or was it related to exerting myself in the hot sun? There's certainly no way to find out. My guess is that it's a genetic illness. Likely paternal. I believe my father once experienced a similar heat-related illness while running a half marathon.

As I mentioned before, HRI is a serious matter. And, it turns out, it can be avoided. No one knows how, but it can. The Red Cross has a few suggestions for treatment:

For heat cramps or heat exhaustion: Get the person to a cooler place and have him or her rest in a comfortable position. If the person is fully awake and alert, give a half glass of cool water every 15 minutes. Do not let him or her drink too quickly. Do not give liquids with alcohol or caffeine in them, as they can make conditions worse. Remove or loosen tight clothing and apply cool, wet cloths such as towels or wet sheets. Call 9-1-1 or the local emergency number if the person refuses water, vomits or loses consciousness.

For heat stroke: Heat stroke is a life-threatening situation! Help is needed fast. Call 9-1-1 or your local EMS number. Move the person to a cooler place. Quickly cool the body. Wrap wet sheets around the body and fan it. If you have ice packs or cold packs, wrap them in a cloth and place them on each of the victim's wrists and ankles, in the armpits and on the neck to cool the large blood vessels. (Do not use rubbing alcohol because it closes the skin's pores and prevents heat loss.) Watch for signals of breathing problems and make sure the airway is clear. Keep the person lying down.

Oh, and the run went well once I treated my HRI by applying (conservatively) water at my namesake park.

44 Runs

According to my training log, today was my 44th run since I turned 30 (June 14th). Furthermore, according to the same log, I've met my scheduled weekly mileage each week since. This whole goal-setting thing seems to be working out alright. Over 240 miles logged since the beginning of June. About 350 left.

This Hal Higdon training program is really quite good. Each long run seems to be the perfect distance, never too much. Again, I would heartily recommend Hal Higdon to anyone looking for a marathon training program.

This being a regression week, I was scheduled to run 5 miles today, but accidentally ran 7 instead. I felt good the whole time, so hopefully there will be no ill effects. Pace was under 7:30. Yesterday's run was 4 miles at a pace under 7:30.

Since I've been back in Louisville, my pace has quickened significantly (I've re-calibrated the Nike Plus several times to make sure). I'm not sure which factors are contributing to the speed, but my guess is that it has something to do with moderating antioxidant intake. While on Cape Cod, I drank wine nightly. Since I've been back in Louisville, I've barely touched the stuff. As beautiful as the tip of Cape Cod is, running in Louisville really is better. The parks are just amazing.

On Monday, I took the road bike out on the Louisville Riverwalk from downtown to Shawnee Park and out Southwestern/Algonquin Parkway a few miles. Although the trail isn't terribly well maintained in places, the Riverwalk is pretty good. A stretch of a mile or two through the woods along the Ohio River was cool, fast and fun. Great ride. Shawnee Park has a great deal of potential. One can almost see Olmstead's vision over a hundred years later.

You Don't Miss Your Water...

...until your well runs dry. Or until you're well into your 14th mile of a 15 mile run. I planned my route such that there would be plenty of water stops, however, I failed to account for the final 2.5 miles in the hot sun. I managed to finish, but drank about 3 liters of water as soon as I got home.

At the halfway point today, I decided to consume a PowerBar brand Vanilla gel packet. The calories were appreciated, but the experience was something other than pleasant. I'm having trouble thinking of anything less refreshing than a mouthful of cake icing during a long run, but this is exactly what the Vanilla goo tasted and felt like. Avoid the vanilla. The coffee stuff is much better.

Managed to complete 15 miles at a 7:45 pace (including water breaks).

Yesterday's activities included an early morning 7-miler and a 30 mile bike ride out along the Ohio River in eastern Jefferson County and Oldham County.

On Friday, my off day, I took the new road bike out to test the commute to IUS in New Albany. Not a terrible commute, but not particularly pleasant. Eastern Boulevard is not the most bike friendly street. Nor is the 2nd Street Bridge. However, it only takes about 35 minutes from my door to campus, so biking is a viable option.