Brats

A word to the youngsters who want to participate in adult races: Do not start in the front!

Most of the kids who run 5Ks know enough to hang back because the adults up front are way, way, faster. But at some races, there are the little snot-noses who think they're tough (or just jokesters) and they plant themselves in the front of the starting pack with the adult athletes. These brats need to be controlled and, for some reason, the race directors refuse to do anything about it. And that's too bad because aside from the fact that they will cause serious runners extra seconds in trying to maneuver around them, they really can get hurt, trampled under foot.

Still, the little pukes at the Verona race, in front of me with grins that you just wanted to smack, were saying "yes" when the race director asked them point blank if they could run five-minute miles.

I will probably always wonder whether I could've gotten a PR at that race. I may very well have lost four seconds trying to get around those brats. But I know I only have myself to blame for not grabbing them by the ear and personally dragging them to the back.

After the race, I found one particularly offensive smart aleck...and his mother. I said to the mom, "Are you this boy's mother?" She said she was, so I asked her for a word with her son.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

I proceeded to tell her what happened then politely scolded the boy, right in front of his mom. The lying monster actually denied saying that he could run a five-minute mile. But I hopefully set him and the mom straight.

Bad kid, bad parent. Don't let it be you. If you're a kid, get back. You can't run faster than the adults. If you're a parent and you have a kid like that, shame on you. If you are a race director and you're not controlling this, get it together. Some of us take these races seriously because, really, we don't have much else in life. Your kids have their whole lives in front of them. Me, all I have is this. Don't ruin it for me.

Verona Labor Day Classic 5K

Every Wednesday in August, I was at the track doing three one-mile repeats (with a half-mile jog after each, plus a mile warmup and a mile cooldown). Over the course of a mere four weeks, my mile splits dropped from 6:15-ish to as fast as 5:51 (my fastest ever).

Typically, they hovered around 5:56,  which was exactly my target. If I was going to beat my personal 5K record of 18:30, I needed to do consistent sub-6 miles.

In addition to the Wednesday track work, I was doing tempo runs on Saturdays. I'd start slow, build to 10K race pace (or at least what felt like it), and hold that pace for only about 10 minutes.

Let me tell you, I don't like doing this stuff, but I am a believer. If you do this kind of training, you will get faster.

So I showed up in Verona on Labor Day with a great deal of confidence and a healthy case of the pre-race jitters. It was my first race of the new season and my first short race since New Year's Day.

After picking up my packet, which included an excellent polyester technical shirt, I did my requisite warmups of stretching, jogging and dancing to the Phish song "Party Time". There was a great vibe in Verona Park, despite the gross humidity, as I jogged around, checking out the park (which I have run past numerous times but never ventured into) and the people. Finally, we lined up on Lakeside Drive at Bloomfield Avenue for the start.

Once the signal was given, I was shot out of a cannon. I made the mistake (yet again) of starting too far back and had to weave my way around people who should not have been in the front of the pack.

Finally getting into the front, I pushed my way along Lakeside Drive until the right turn into the residential neighborhood and found myself staring up a sizable hill. I bounded up, passing people along the way. Hills, while unpleasant and sometimes painful, have become a strong point for me. While everyone else is huffing and puffing, I'm making my move.

On the other side of the hill, I was definitely feeling it from the work I had done and it was only the first mile marker. Winding through the quiet streets, there were timers calling out the mile splits. The first mile was well under six minutes; the next, just under thirteen. I was on target for a PR, but it wasn't a runaway (so to speak). It would still require focus and speed.

Luckily, I had to go down that same hill. This was no time to hold back, so I sprinted down the hill, mugging for the photographer, and turned back onto Lakeside. The right turn onto Bloomfield led to another uphill and into the entrance to the park. It was the home stretch and I was pushing with all my might. As I approached the finish line I could see it was going to be close as the seconds ticked away on the clock, ever closer to the 18:30 which I was trying to beat.

No dice. I was mere seconds away, finishing at 18:33, my second-best ever. In addition, my result earned me a first place trophy for my age group and a gift certificate to Fleet Feet running store in Montclair. Still, I couldn't help but think that if I had started in the front of the pack, those three seconds would have disappeared. (More about that in the next post.)

After composing myself and cooling down a bit, I jogged back to the hill near the park entrance and cheered for almost all of the other runners, trying to pep talk them into the home stretch. I tried to encourage a woman who slowed to a walk, telling her she could get up that hill while running, but she said to me, "I can't. I'm not a runner."

My reply to her was what I was told more than five years ago and what I tell everyone who is willing to hear it: "Yes, you are! You are here, at this race, giving it your all. Even if just for today, you ARE a runner!"

Running Around Irene

If you think I let a hurricane get in the way of my running schedule, you are sorely mistaken. That Saturday morning was ominous, as Irene began brewing, but the rain hadn't started yet. I finished my six-mile tempo run minutes before the sky opened up. That night, as the winds picked up, I spent the evening with friends in Clifton, driving home in a gusty, torrential downpour in the middle of the night.

In the morning, as news of flooding and damage spread, I waited for the wind and rain to die down and did my 13.1 mile long run, bringing my camera along to take pictures of any damage. There were some downed trees and branches along my route in Montclair and Cedar Grove, but nothing too terrible.

The next morning, I took a walk through downtown Little Falls, its Singac section, and the border of Wayne. The flooding was terrible. Entire streets underwater, property in ruins.

During the course of the following week, I had to take detours from my usual running routes because the roads were still flooded. It took weeks for some roads like Riverview Drive in Totowa and McBride Avenue in Woodland Park to finally open again.

But through it all, I ran, and I am glad I did. When your feet literally traverse the ground through these areas that got hit so hard, you feel a deeper connection with the gravity of the situation that has befallen it. Especially heartbreaking was seeing the ever-so-slow process of getting Memorial School in Woodland Park in shape to reopen in the middle of September to finally begin its school year.

On foot, you simply notice and care more than behind the wheel. Running before, during and after Hurricane Irene provided meaningful context to such a sweeping disaster.

Welcome (back)!

Somehow you've stumbled upon my blog! Perhaps you stumbled upon my old blog, Heart and Soles, and found the link to this new one. Or maybe you are Eric Mullin, the only person that has ever confirmed that he read my blog. For all I know, Eric, you are the only one. Have you started YOUR blog yet?

Either way, I thank you for sticking around long enough to read this. I hope you stay with me and read some more, especially if you're a runner, a Phish fan, or, like me, both. (Or, if you are Mullin.)

For five years, I wrote my old blog, about the adventures of a newbie runner, for northjersey.com. But, sadly, they lost interest in me so I have now moved to my own space. No longer a newbie, with five marathons completed since 2007, I have a new perspective, new goals, and new challenges.

I am also a huge fan of the band Phish. My first show was June 23, 1993, and I've been to 75 shows since then. I did not write much about Phish in the old blog unless I was going on runs while on Phish tour. But here, I'll get more into the aspects of phandom.

Last thing to know about me - I love to travel the United States, so I have incorporated the things I love into my travel goals:
    - Visit all 50 states. I only have 10 more to go!
    - Run a race, preferably a marathon, in all fifty. All five of my marathons have been in different states (read about it in my old blog's archives), but I have raced in four more.
    - See Phish in all fifty...or at least in as many as they play. They have not yet played in a bunch of states, a fact they pointed out at this summer's Super Ball IX festival where they named the campsites after those states.

So that is where I will start for now. In the coming posts, I will backtrack a bit and write about what has been going on since I last posted to my old blog in August. I hope you stick around. Thanks for reading.

Daniel Galioto