Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Tomorrow

Tomorrow I will be running the Ashenfelter 8K race in nearby Glen Ridge, N.J., a huge Thanksgiving tradition that I have avoided throughout my running life because I never really liked big races.

But now, after the problems I had with my last few small races, I decided it is time to graduate to this race that will see around 2,000 people running the approximately five-mile distance.

There will be nothing even close to a win, not even in my age group (these cats are fast), and that is just as well.  It is perfect, in fact, because this race will remind me why I train hard in the first place.  It is not to beat the guys around me; it is to beat the clock.

I have put myself through some intense training this past month.  Some of my training runs have been faster than my 5K races.  If I can capture that energy tomorrow, I will be looking at a PR (6:01 pace or better).

No medal, no prize, just the satisfaction of knowing that at 41 years old after an injury that caused me to be sidelined for months (and it still has not been the same), I can still set personal records.  That is the best award - nay, reward - of all.

Here is hoping.



Thursday, November 19, 2015

Summers of 1995 and 2015


Phish had completely solidified its sound by the end of 1994 and spent the summer of 1995 letting the whole country know it, playing a whopping 22 shows in 15 states from June 7 to July 3.  Prior to that, on May 16, they played a one-set benefit show in which they introduced 10 new originals and covers to their repertoire (see how the "Wingsuit" Halloween set in 2013 was not completely unprecedented?).

From that show and throughout the tour, most of the songs that would eventually comprise the following year's 'Billy Breathes' album were debuted and tweaked, if not perfected.  Listen to these early versions of "Theme From the Bottom" for a slightly different arrangement; hear how "Prince Caspian" started as a three-minute ditty with no coda; notice the undeveloped middle section to "Free"; and how "Taste" began only with the verse and chorus sections we know today.

In addition, future rarities "Ha Ha Ha" and "Spock's Brain" were introduced, the latter given to the audience to decide upon a title from a multiple choice that also included "The Plane" (too obvious) , "The First Single" (too cute) and "Is Real" (too conceptual). Eventual B-side "Strange Design" also made its first appearances in exactly the form we know it today, but completely different from the version that ended up on the "Free" single in 1996.

As for covers, the uplifting gospel of "Don't You Wanna Go" made for a great set opener; "I Wanna Be Like You" from 'The Jungle Book' served as the wackiest Jon Fishman lead vocal tune yet; and "Lonesome Cowboy Bill" foreshadowed a Halloween set that was still three years away.

The jams of summer 1995 continued the looseness and exploration of the previous year, but because these guys were reaching new heights of playing and listening, the jams got less noisy and dense, and more pointed and musical while still stretching out long, far and wide.

Phish seemed to also be acutely aware of the music that was released in June on its first live album, 'A Live One'. The "Tweezer" on June 17 veered toward the "Montana" track, while the vocal jam in "You Enjoy Myself" on June 19 recalled the guitar sounds of the album's "Tweezer" track from Fall 1994.

Both summer 1995 and summer 2015 ring with the sound of a cohesive Phish soaring to new heights and expanding its repertoire.

In 2015, new songs like "Blaze On" and "No Men in No Man's Land" became instant classics (though I'm sad that the lovely ballad "Shade" didn't get very far) and the jams in the older tunes included such mind-blowing peaks that it's hard not to notice the band has truly perfected what has come to be known as the "bliss jam". For specifics, read any of my posts from the eight shows I attended.

The closing three-night stand in Colorado continued the Labor Day tradition (now in its fifth year) of Phish bringing the party, the power and the funk to Dick's Sporting Goods Park. By the end of the third show, no one cared anymore that the band broke its pattern of playing a show or set in which the first letter of each song title spelled something. And when the enormous, almost-third-set final encore that started with a rousing "Tweezer Reprise" featured non-stop rarities of "Harpua", "After Midnight", "NO2", "Keyboard Army" (first time since 1995), "Your Pet Cat", "Once in a Lifetime" (first since 1996), and the debut of the perfect closer, "United We Stand", the fact that it spelled "THANK YOU" was mere icing on the cake.

That encore was an instant classic which will be talked about for years. As will Magnaball. And the Mann. And Summer 2015 on a whole. Just like Summer 1995.

Monday, November 2, 2015

North Jersey Haunted Half Marathon

I had been training extremely hard throughout October with the intention of running the Trenton Half Marathon on Nov. 7, but other plans got in the way. Not content with scrapping my half-marathon plans altogether, I came across the North Jersey Haunted Half on Oct. 24 - two weeks before my previously planned race date. 

Since returning from my injury, I have been what feels like amazing shape despite some continued aches in my back ranging from mild to moderate. But coming within seconds of my 10K PR was a clear sign that I was moving forward.  Pushing to the next distance level seemed like the right thing to do.

But could I cut two weeks off a training program from which I had already cut the first few weeks (when I was training for the United Way 10K)?  I was going to darn well try.  And at least this race, in Pompton Plains, was close to home.

Arriving at Greenview Park was a cinch and parking was no problem.  It was a bit chilly (38F) at 7:30 a.m., so I stayed bundled up during stretching and a light jog. When the race started at 9:30, I blasted off to an early lead and my swift pace warmed me up nicely.

A warning to anyone planning on running this race: There is no sideline support (fine with me) and very few markers and volunteers indicating where to go (not so fine, considering my past experiences).  

The first half of the race was lonely out in front and I was constantly filled with the dread of making a wrong turn or not making a required turn.  The only thing I could do was run straight until directed otherwise. 

This turned out to be a pretty good tactic on the long straightaway of the first two miles along West Parkway.  With the second and third place runners well behind me all I could do was focus on my stride and hitting my marks - a 6:30 pace would be great; a 6:27 would put me in PR territory.  

I hit the first mile in 6:07.  Damn.  Too fast.  That will surely come back and bite me later.

Yet on this pancake-flat course in my new Saucony Hurricane ISO shoes, I seemed unable (if not unwilling) to slow down.  The next few miles along the Boulevard were all between 6:10 and 6:20, as I was almost hypnotized by the fast and steady whap-whap-whap-whap of my feet on the pavement.

Then came the turns.  Lots and lots of turns.  Another warning: the entire second half of this race is filled with turns - more than there should be with so few volunteers - mostly along the same streets.  It was dizzying.  Thankfully there were some signs pointing to the turns, but almost no signs or volunteers indicating not to turn. Every intersection presents an option, and runners shouldn't have to even think about it. There were several moments when I truly wondered if I was still on the course.

Managing to slow down a bit into the 6:20s through the ninth mile I found myself back on West Parkway where I began, hoping that I was going the right way.  After Mile 10, there were no more mile markers, freaking me out even more.  All I could think about was that I was heading toward a huge PR and one bad turn could ruin it.  Again.

My worst fears seemed to come true - again - at the intersection of Boulevard and Ackerson Avenue where I had turned during the sixth mile.  There were three volunteers standing at the corner talking to each other and none of them were looking at me quickly coming their way.


"WHICH WAY???" I screamed, startling them as I closed in.  One of them pointed into the turn onto Ackerson.  I did not know that he was dead wrong until I came around the bend and saw the 5.75-mile checkpoint I had passed earlier.

I was off course - AGAIN - and really, really, really pissed off.

The race director came running out with a megaphone (this spot was geographically close to the finish), telling me to make another turn which would put me back in the right spot.  With my adrenaline pumping from my PR pace and the frustration that this had now happened for the third time in my last four races, plus not knowing how far this detour had sent me way off, I started cursing up a storm for all of Pompton Plains to hear.

It turns out that the block down which I turned was parallel to the proper block (Mandeville Avenue), so the difference in distance was negligible.  But when I passed the finish line (in the opposite direction) I wondered again if I was in the right spot (I was) and had to startle another couple of volunteers into pointing the way to go.  I had no idea where I was anymore, and I was looping around some of the same streets for the third time.

I was confused. I was angry.  I was fuming.  And I was sprinting.

When I finally came back around to finish for real, the clock said 1:22:06.  That came out to a 6:16 pace.  Though I was not wearing my Garmin, that was consistent with my pace at the 10-mile mark, so I trust that my detour neither added nor subtracted too much time.

That means I nailed my first half-marathon PR in four years and I won my third race in as many months.

Strangely, the runner behind me, Anthony Parga, must have missed a turn somewhere and cut off part of the course, because he crossed the finish line before I did. So the results page shows his name on top, but even he admitted afterward that he knew I had actually won. He got it backward, though, thinking that I ran too long instead of him running too short.  There is no way that he was running in the 6:20s in the first half and then sub-6 in the second half.

Plus, the directors awarded me with the winner's trophy, so they knew, too.

So I will accept the 1:22:06 as a proper time and, yes, I will damn well accept my win.

Again.



Sunday, November 1, 2015

Cresskill 10K - the aborted race


Having participated in 74 races, I understand how difficult it must be to stage a race, especially in busy, overpopulated Northern New Jersey. The logistics must be staggering - obtaining the permits, getting police cooperation for road closures, hiring a timing company, promoting the event, getting shirts made, securing food and drink, requesting volunteer help, having the course certified by USATF, and making sure the whole thing goes off without a hitch.

I also understand that races that are still in their infancy will always have some bugs to work out. 

However, there are certain things that absolutely, positively need to be addressed and perfected before any race starts, and the most important one is the need for clear, proper signage and/or volunteers to ensure that runners stay on course and in the proper direction.

In this blog, I have chronicled several occasions in which this particular inadequacy has caused major problems (American Legion Leonia 10K, Fortitude for First Descents Marathon, Sprint for Soldiers 10K), but none have caused a complete abortion of the race until yesterday's Cresskill 10K.

Even before the signage became an issue, there was a huge problem at the start: the 5K participants - including the walkers - were lined up about 50 yards in front of the 10K runners.

Take a minute and picture that in your head: Fast 5K runners in front, slower 5K runners behind them, then walkers, then 10K runners. You read that correctly - fast runners (albeit very few) behind a gaggle of walkers.

Needless to say, we were practically mowing everyone down at the start of the race. Things were starting out badly and it would only get worse.

Sometimes, the worst positions to be in are the front of the middle or the back of the front, where you are too far back to see the leaders, but too far ahead to be chasing anyone. This happens to me often with small races, yet I still foolishly signed up for this very small 10K on a whim. My second-best ever in Newark last month felt like a springboard to a potential PR and my training has been spot on for it.

Fellow 10K runner Rob Albano (the amazing runner that I met two years ago at the Pompton Plains Apple Chase 10K) managed to push though the throng and get out in front of even the 5K racers and I followed quickly behind. By the first mile marker, Rob was out of sight and I was in second place with no one behind me. When the pace bicyclist caught up to me, he assumed I was in the lead and he stuck with me. I found out later that Rob had managed to hook up with a police motorcycle that guided him through the course.

That was lucky for him, but unlucky for me. 

The signs were easy enough to follow for the first two and a half miles, during which I was on track for a PR. The bicyclist and I then came to a somewhat confusing intersection with two signs - one with straight-up arrows that said "All runners" and another pointing left that read "10K return". My instinct was to follow the "all runners" sign, but the cyclist and the volunteers on the course all told me to turn left.

Though it was later determined that my instincts were correct, I followed the instructions given to me and turned, only to come upon another intersection with no signs at all. The bicyclist was as confused as I was. He told me to turn right, but after a few blocks we both realized we were off course.

My race was blown. I told him to point me back to the start/finish ar the rec center and to go back and check for other lost runners.

Upon returning, I found the race director, Julie Balay, and told her the 10K got screwed up because of the signage problem. She seemed to get defensive (and who could blame her?) and sternly told me about how that was impossible and that she put those signs there herself that morning. I tried to explain that even the lead cyclist got confused and informed her that there may be lost people out there, but she seemed stuck on the idea that I was challenging her ability to direct a race.

Thankfully, the cyclist got back and vouched for me. Still, when I requested a refund, Ms. Balay was not immediately accommodating, claiming that the race shirt alone was worth the registration price and that I should understand that "it's supposed to be a fun event".

Trying my best to hide my incredulity, I explained that I did not come for the shirt and I would gladly give it back. Plus, fun (and charity) aside, I paid $35 to post a time on a USATF certified course. The race was promoted as such and, through no fault of my own, I did not get what I was promised. All of the intense training that built up to that race was blown away because the signs were not crystal clear and the volunteers were not well-enough informed of the course. I certainly was not going to let them keep my 35 bucks.

Ms. Balay finally relented and, thankfully, her attitude shifted from negative to positive, which went a long way toward making me feel better. In addition to agreeing on my refund, she asked that I come back next year, assuring me that the start-line issues would be worked out and the course problems would be addressed.  In the weeks since, we have had a pleasant exchange of emails about what happened, how to pay my refund, and what can be improved for next year.

In the end, Ms. Balay understood my plight as a runner, just as I understand her plight as the race director. There is nothing more important in racing than that dynamic, because in the end, if a runner pays to participate in a certified race rather than go for a typical Sunday run, there is an agreement between the parties involved - runners follow the rules of the race and directors give runners a well-organized chance to compete.

Otherwise, as happened last week at the Cresskill 10K it was lose-lose - Cresskill Public Schools did not get my money and I did not get an official race time - possibly a PR - posted.

Incidentally, the incredible Rob Albano, with the benefit of the motorcycle, won the race and beat his goal of 32 minutes. Kudos, Rob!