Sunday, December 15, 2019

Chocoholic Frolic Dallas 10K - Dec. 8, 2019

"On your left!"

I honestly lost count of how many times I had to shout that during the second loop of this otherwise hassle-free 10K race, because by the time I was in the fifth mile, the walkers were on their second mile and the relatively narrow walkway did not allow for more than two or three across (and walkers seem to love to walk in great horizontal numbers).


But let us start at the start.


My wife, Gloria, and I had planned an early-December trip to Grand Prairie, Texas, to visit her dad and brother and I figured it would be fun to run a race there.  I found out about the Dallas Chocoholic Frolic 5K and 10K (which was actually in Grand Prairie) and decided that after doing five 5Ks in a row, it was time for my first 10K in two years.  


With its tremendous amount of speed work, Hal Higdon's difficult Advanced 10K program conditioned my body to be the best it could be on race day, which was a cool, breezy morning at the horse-racing venue, Lone Star Park, in Grand Prairie.  I looked around before the start of the race and saw some folks whom I was certain would be in the front of the pack - a couple of track kids, a long-legged lean woman, and a few other competitive-looking folks. So when the race started, I was surprised to find myself in front of the entire field.  

That is me in the blue-green shirt and black shorts, trying to open up my stride and push to the front at the start of the race when I realized the competition would be pretty soft. (Photo by Gloria Galioto)

Along the main driveway, up a ramp, and around a corner onto a pedestrian walkway on the outskirts of the park, I remained in first place through the first mile (6:06), following the lead bicycle and waiting for someone to eventually pass me.  


That someone never came.  I worked my way along the course to the sidewalk of the main road, on a narrow pedestrian walkway over a small bridge and hit mile two (6:26) before turning into the parking lot, heading back to the main building by the race track.  Still, no one was coming up from behind me.  I heard no footfalls or heavy breathing.  Nothing.  And I was about to finish the first loop.  I was ahead of everybody, including the 5K racers.


Coming into the finish area after mile three (6:22), I saw Gloria, who confirmed that there was no one even close to me, as well as her dad and brother, cheering me on.  


Damn, I essentially won the 5K and I was about to run the loop again.


The next mile (6:16) was in complete solitude.  No one behind me, no one in front of me. 


But then I hit the crowd of walkers in their second mile.  They were walking three or four across, as they tend to do, and that is when the constant shouting of "on your left" began.  It was tough enough to breathe while trying to keep up my race pace; having to yell at people to move did not help.  Surely, these folks knew that some people were doing the loop twice, but I think I startled them with how quickly I had come around.  And so...


"On your left!" - and then the person moved left and I almost crashed into him.


"On your left!" - and then people pushing strollers next to each other awkwardly tried to get the strollers out my path, probably in fear of me plowing them right over.


"On your left!" - and no one moved.  "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"


Thus it went, over and over, for my fifth mile (6:38) until finally getting to the open parking lot, where some joggers were making their way through the last mile of the 5K.  I blew past them, too, hitting mile six (6:20) and pushing with all my might through the last two-tenths of a mile for the finish, where, once again, the family was there to cheer me into the finish line.  





Rallying to the finish, with no one behind me, to win the 10K. (Photo by Gloria Galioto)

The course may have ended up a little short - around 6.14 miles according to my GPS watch, which usually calculates most courses to be a bit long, so I knew something had to be up - and I finished with 38:54 on the clock, but I think it should probably be more like 39:34, still very much in line with my past few 10Ks.  I was hoping to squeak in under 41 minutes, and I handily came in under 40.

Indeed, I won the whole darn thing, with the next three folks neck-and-neck among each other, but almost a full two minutes behind me.  So, you know, this was not exactly the most competitive race.  Still, I find it funny that this is the third 10K that I have won overall.  I never felt like 10K was my best distance, but I must be doing something right.  In addition to lots of chocolatey goodies and a sweet Hershey Kiss-shaped medal, I received a $50 gift card to the local running store, to which we immediately went as soon as it opened.  I bought some light-up and reflective gear to bring home for my upcoming early morning in-the-dark training runs.


I went to Grand Prairie for a family visit and won a race.  Now, that is a vacation.  


However, while "this has all been wonderful, now I'm on my way" to start marathon training again.  

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Spectating the NYC Marathon

I have run 22 marathons over the past 12 years, but I have never attended one specifically to be a spectator.  So when my friends Meredith and John, with whom I have attended both Phish shows and races, said they were running the New York City Marathon, my wife, Gloria, and I decided to make some Phish-related signs for them and head into the big city to cheer them on.

First and foremost, we needed a plan.  I printed out the marathon course map, the NYC subway map, and dug out my old NYC street map and started plotting.

Knowing that they were planning on running 10-minute miles and that their wave was starting at around 10:40, I determined we could see them in five different spots, in three boroughs.  Once we got to Manhattan, we took the R train to 36th Street in Brooklyn to catch them at about the fifth mile.

Finding them was tougher than we had thought because this early in the race, the pack was pretty thick, and taking up both sides of the two-way avenue.  At a tiny break in the throng, I managed to run into the center median for a better view.  Somehow, I managed to see them, and they saw me with my "Go John and Meredith go!" sign.  

But even if we had not seen them, we quickly realized that cheering for random strangers is incredibly fun, especially when people had their names on their bibs or their clothing.  And as a marathon runner myself, I know how much that means, and what a mental boost it can provide.

After seeing our friends, though, it was right back down to the subway to catch the R train north to the eighth mile, near the Barclays Center.  We had less than a half hour to get there and find a good spot, but we made it and, once again, saw them and shouted for them as loudly as we good, holding up our "Blaze on, John and Meredith!" sign.

Our next stop was Court Square in Queens, near the entrance to the Queensboro Bridge in the 15th mile.  We had an hour to get there, but we had to walk a bit and get to the G train, and we both had to make a pit stop to hit the bathroom (a reality that we did not think to factor into our plan).  So once we got to the general area, we found an open bar/restaurant, ordered a couple of beers, did our business and went out to join the crowd.  We held up our sign ("Run like an antelope, John and Meredith!") but we did not see them.  At some point, we figured we had missed them (though Meredith later confirmed they saw us!), so we hustled back to the subway for stop number four.

We took an R train from Queens Plaza and then, in Manhattan, transferred to a 6 train heading north to East Harlem to catch them in the 19th mile on First Avenue, just before they crossed the Willis Avenue bridge to the Bronx.  With less than 40 minutes to do all that, we cut it close, but managed to get to the bridge mere minutes before they did.  By now, the pack had thinned considerably so it was much easier to spot them and to talk to them.  They were hoofing along, but slowing down a bit. 

That was probably bad for them but good for us, giving us extra time to walk across town to Fifth Avenue to catch them in the 23rd mile after they came back into Manhattan.  We had one more sign for them, this time with a more obscure Phish lyric, "Run so fast, your feet don't touch the ground!" and one last time, we managed to see them and wish them well.  We could see signs of fatigue, but they looked good and there was no doubt they were going to finish this thing.

Alas, we were unable to get through Central Park to see it, what with the myriad spectators crowding the area around Columbus Circle, where the runners enter Central Park.  We tried, but there was no getting through - at least not in the time we had left to do so.

So we sent them text messages to congratulate them and went on our merry way back to New Jersey.  In all, we spent about four hours riding subways, cheering on our friends and lots of strangers, and enjoyed all the good vibes that the New York City Marathon brings without having to run 26.2 miles.

Saturday, November 16, 2019

Purple Stride 5K - Nov. 10, 2019

So, yes, after four relatively disappointing 5Ks, I immediately started training for a December 10K using Hal Higdon's Advanced 10K training program.

And, wow, it is a killer program.  With Tuesday tempo runs (up to 60 minutes), Wednesday 400-meter track sprints (up to 12), Saturday runs partially at race pace, and Sunday runs in which the last 25 percent of the miles are done near race pace, we are essentially talking about four days of speed training per week.  That leaves Monday and Thursday for easy runs and an optional (!) rest day on Friday.

As per usual with Higdon's programs, races are included midway through training.  This past Sunday, being halfway through the eight-week cycle, it was time for yet another 5K.  It just so happened that this fell on the day of the annual Purple Stride 5K in Parsippany, a benefit for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network.  In support of our friend, whose mom died from the disease, Gloria and I and our friends jogged it in 2016 and walked it in 2017.  Last year, I raced it competitively while training for the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon, taking third place with a time of 18:11, my last sub-19 5K.

At the start line on Sunday, some guy said to his kid, referring to me, "Just stay behind this guy and draft him if you can.  He looks fast."

That made me feel good, but I wondered if I would live up to his expectations after my past four outings.  At the sound of the horn, I blasted off, legs in full extension, pumping as hard as I could to get off to a good start, and to warm the hell up on this 30-something degree day while wearing only shorts and a single long-sleeve polyester running shirt.  For the first mile in this flat course through what is essentially a giant park of office buildings, a young runner in a cape took the lead and I stayed elbow to elbow with Justin Tufano (literally - he actually kept bumping elbows with me - even as we approached the left-hand turnaround, he kept drifting and pushing me to the right).

I hit the first mile 5:52 and it felt great.  I did not even feel like I was pushing hard enough to get a split like that.  Both Mr. Tufano and I pushed ahead of the caped runner and pressed on into mile 2.  I pulled away from Tufano and briefly held the lead until I heard footsteps coming up behind.  I was surprised to see the person passing me was not Tufano but someone else - an 18-year-old kid named Sam Fowler - and he was doing it effortlessly.  There was no catching up to him, and I was already slowing down, but I was OK with my 6:09 second mile.

Turning around again (those turnarounds are such momentum killers!), I gave it everything I had, with Tufano right behind me.  I only managed to stay in front of him by three seconds, but it was enough as I threw my body forward into the third mile with a 6:04 and a finish time of 18:50.

Unbelievably, I had managed to get my first sub-19 in a year, at the same race as my last one.  It was a pleasant surprise, and just what I needed to fend off the sometimes depressing sight of my drastically lower 5Ks lately.  This was a nice boost.  I may not be close to what I was a year or two ago, but at this point, I will take any sub-19 I can get.

Last year's event was fraught with problems, notably the course being too short.  In addition, the timing company, Best Race, screwed me over with the results, putting me at fourth place, rather than at my rightful third (they never fixed it on their website).  This time, though the course was re-measured to accuracy, Best Race once again managed to screw me over by spelling my name wrong - check out the results and you see that Daniel Falioto took second place at the 2019 Purple Stride 5K in Parsippany. [eye roll] 

But hey, it was a good cause with good friends and my best 5K of the year.

Saturday, October 26, 2019

John Samra Memorial 5K, Clifton, NJ - Oct. 20, 2019

As you age, you know it is going to happen.  It is inevitable.  At some point, your legs simply can not propel you as quickly as they once did.  

For the past few years, I had wondered not so much when, but how it would happen.  Would it be a quick demise, like I thought it would be after the car accident in 2013 permanently messed up my back?  Nope - I ran my fastest 5Ks after that.  Or would it be a gradual decline, losing a few seconds a year, as I had begun to do shortly after those amazing sub-18 races in 2016? 

Apparently not.  For even though my 5K times had slipped to the low 18s in 2017 and the mid-18s in 2018, I chalked that up to not specifically training for those races (I had been in the middle of marathon training) and tough conditions (hilly courses, cold winter days).

But there I was in Clifton on Sunday morning, doing my fourth 5K in 10 weeks, having trained for them using Hal Higdon's Advanced 5K program, and I found myself in yet another struggle to try to get under 19 minutes. I had broken 19 minutes for the first time 11 years ago and had continued to do it at least once a year (except 2017, when I ran no 5Ks) through last year. 

In fact, the first time I ran the John Samra Memorial 5K - in 2009 - I obtained a PR with an 18:30.  It was the first time my average pace was sub-6.

I may be getting slower, but I still take my place at the front of the start line.
That's me in the blue skull cap and navy blue shirt.
I ran it again two years later, with a 19:09 and this year's looked to be more like that one. Perhaps I could blame that hill in the first mile.  After blasting out of the city's municipal complex on this crisp October morning with no wind, and onto Colfax Avenue, I took the left onto Clifton Avenue, for the tough uphill.  Somehow, I managed a 5:53.  Off to a surprisingly great start, I wondered if I was finally back in sub-19 shape.  

Around the curve and back on flat land, the left onto 3rd Avenue followed by the right onto Washington brought me to the spot (commemorated by a fire truck with an enormous American flag) where the race's namesake - a Clifton cop - was tragically killed.  Around the block to get back onto 3rd, I was in third place and watching the middle-to-back of the pack running toward me, many offering encouragement.  I saw my buddy, Ed Holster (a Clifton cop himself) hoofing along, as well. Mile two was 6:06.

I had lost some time, but was still in sub-19 territory.  Not only that, but I had that hill coming again, but this time, I was going down.  I tried to extend my legs, but I could feel it starting to hurt.  And the memory of that pain from those long, downhill strides at the end of the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon held me back from pushing my legs into full extension.  Worse still, we passed Colfax Avenue in order to proceed to Van Houten Avenue and enter the municipal complex from the opposite side, and that involved going up one more hill. With only a half-mile to go, I was quickly petering out.  A 6:28 third mile, and nothing left in the tank to sprint to the end.


Rounding the final curve next to Clifton City Hall.
Rounding the corner toward City Hall, I heaved my body forward as best as I could, with my lovely wife, Gloria cheering me on once again.  I finished with a 19:22 - my slowest race in more than 10 years.  

Pushing to the end.
So with PRs long gone, and even a sub-19 unattainable, it is clear that age is finally taken its toll.  At 45, I am on the decline.  I will have to live with that; what choice do I have? 

After the race, I told Gloria that I was done racing for the year.  It was too depressing to train harder and while getting worse results.  So, no more.  Done.  That is it.  Finito for 2019.

Naturally, on Monday, I started training for a December 10K.

Did I mention that I somehow came in third place overall?
Ed and me, post race.




















(All photos by Gloria Galioto)







Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Run Little Falls 5K - Oct. 6, 2019

During the eight years that I  lived in the Township of Little Falls, N.J., I ran the Passaic Valley Rotary River Run 5K six times.  I got a few PRs at that autumn race, as my short game improved year after year, culminating in my peak in 2016. I moved out of the town that year, and at some point since then, that race ceased to exist.  

To my delight, I found out that a new race - Run Little Falls - was debuting this fall in Little Falls and it would coincide perfectly with my current 5K training cycle.  

Though training had not exactly gone well - days of fatigue and lots of pain in my legs, especially my left hamstring - I was excited to go back to my old hometown and race on the streets I had come to know so well. 

With fewer than 200 participants, it was not a big race, but a nice turnout for a brand new event.  Even more impressive was that it seemed like the town's residents were really behind it.  Looking at the results sheet, one might guess that half of the participants were from Little Falls.  Even the mayor ran it.  

Funny side note about that: the T-shirts that all the participants received read, "I'm not the mayor, but I Run Little Falls."  That is, all the participants except one - Mayor Damiano's read, "I AM the mayor, and I Run Little Falls"!

The race started on the track of Passaic Valley High School - the very track on which I did years of interval training - and the course led us onto Main Street, Cedar Grove Road and Wilmore Road for the first mile, which I ran in 6:09.  Already I could see that there had been no improvement since Surftown, but like that race a month ago, the competition was quite soft and I was in third place, and closing in on second.

Turning onto Prospect Street and up the course's one hill, I pulled into second and stayed there for the remainder of the race.  The leader, 22-year-old Sean Lang was long gone.  Maybe a few years ago, I could have kept up with his 5:42 pace, but no longer.  As I crested the hill and did the quick turns on Stevens Avenue, Walnut Street and Union Avenue before getting back onto Main Street, I tried to maintain the pace I had established and came close with a 6:12. 

The downhill came halfway through the third mile, so I pushed into it with all my might, opening up my stride and much as it would go.  My legs were hurting again, and I thought my left hamstring was going to seize up, as it had been doing all year when put under great stress.  I squeaked out a 6:00 for that last mile.

Those times, of course, are from my Garmin, which always seems to cause some discrepancies.  I gave it everything I had getting onto the track at the high school again and finished with a 19:10, which would mean that the last tenth of a mile took 49 seconds.  That is absurd, though, because it would equate to an 8:10 pace.  Sure, I may have slowed down in my fatigue, but not that much, especially not at the end of a 5K.

So, once again, either my Garmin is calculating miles too short, or the course was too long.  But either way, I do not really care.  I trained for a race and I ran the race.  I put my best effort into it and came out of it with another worthwhile experience...and a $20 gift certificate to Dick's Sporting Goods for winning my age group.  Not bad for a morning out in the old town.

Monday, October 7, 2019

Surftown 5K - Westerly, R.I. - Sept. 8, 2019


After my less-than-spectacular return to the 5K last month, I was determined to get back into a heavy-duty training program for the next eight weeks, which would culminate in the Run Little Falls 5K in my old hometown.  So I returned to Hal Higdon’s Advanced 5K program for the first time in seven years in hopes that I could at least knock a minute or so off of my time from the Dover race.

As is typical with the Hal Higdon programs, a practice race is prescribed halfway through the training.  It is a good way to gauge how well things are going, and it provides a much-appreciated extra rest day, the day before the race. 

My midway 5K came on Sept. 8, the first day of my weeklong wedding anniversary vacation to Block Island, so Gloria and I found a race at Misquamicut Beach in Westerly, R.I., just over the border from Connecticut (and one town west of Weekapaug, a little town forever memorialized in song by Phish).  The Surftown Half Marathon & 5K, hosted by the Hartford Marathon Foundation, is actually more the former than the latter, with about a thousand participants running the 13.1 and some stiff competition in the lead pack (everyone in the top 10 did a sub-6 pace!); and about half that doing the 5K, with a very soft field (spoiler - nobody did a sub-6 pace!).

I have been doing speed training for eight weeks now, so I figured my muscles would remember how to go fast and stay fast for at least a little while – certainly this race would be an improvement over the last one, right?

Reluctantly, I planted myself toward the front of the pack at the start line and pushed off hard at the go signal.  I knew that at least the first mile, west along Atlantic Avenue and parallel to the beach, was going to be flat, so I threw myself into it, surprisingly breaking into the lead for the first few tenths of a mile.  Shortly thereafter, though, 26-year-old Caitlin Abelseth pulled ahead of me and stayed in the front for the rest of the race, eventually winning with a well-run, but relatively slow 18:47 (I have run races where I barely won my age group, let alone the whole megillah, with a time like that).  Her movement was swift, her pace consistent and her form impeccable.  I bet she is capable of much more than that 6:02 pace.  It seemed effortless for her. 

Firmly in second place, I turned right onto Maplewood Avenue and hit the first mile marker with a 6:04.  Already, though, I could tell this was not going to go as well as I had hoped.  A left onto Bayberry Road brought us to another left onto Ocean View Highway and only a small incline before the turnaround.  My second mile was not any better, with a 6:11.  And I was already out of gas.  What has happened to me?

At that point, my head was swirling with thoughts like, “It’s really over – my best racing days are behind me.  What’s the point anymore?  Why am I doing this?  I’m going to be 45 soon and now my age is finally catching up to me.”

My age was not the only thing catching up to me – 15-year-old Ryan Reed, an obvious track kid, was behind me the whole race, but dug into his reserves and passed me on the final stretch along Atlantic Avenue.  I, however, had no reserves.  I felt heavy and leaden; my legs felt like rubber; and I wanted it to be over.  I pushed as hard as I could, looking for anything – any burst of energy or extra gear or hidden strength to surge to the finish line.  But there was no surge to be had.  My third mile was a 6:13. 

A race that I would have won handily a year ago ended up being my slowest 5K in four years (when I came back from a six-month hiatus from an injury).  Instead of improving upon my Dover result, I blew it and ran a 19:18 - my second worst race of the last 10 years or so.

It was frustrating and heartbreaking (as well as tiring and painful).  And yet, there was my wonderful wife, Gloria, putting it all into perspective for me – reminding me that I had managed to come in third place overall; that the people that beat me were decades younger than I; and that this race was only part of my training, and not the finished product of my training regimen.  Most of all, while I was busy being hard on myself, she was proud of me for another race accomplishment.

So, there you have it.  I gave it my all.  My all is not what it was a year ago and will probably be even less than that a year from now.  And yet, I should be proud? 

Damn right, I should.  And I will be proud three weeks from now in Little Falls, knowing that, once again, I will bring my best game, whatever it may be, as a 45-year-old guy that has nothing left to prove.

Monday, August 19, 2019

Dover Renaissance 5K

At some point, it had to get done, and the longer I waited, the harder it would be.

I had not run a short race all year, so on the morning of Aug. 10 when I showed up in downtown Dover, I was nervous.  My friend, Gavin, later that afternoon, asked why I would be so nervous.  I was no stranger to 5Ks, plus I had been doing marathons, so three miles should be nothing.

Oh, if it were only that simple.  

I explained to him that the goal of short races is not to run it and finish, but to run fast.  And even though I had done dozens of them before, every race is different and each one comes with its own set of expectations.

For this race, the expectations were low, no question, but it was important to find out if I still had even a little shred of the speed and endurance I exhibited three years ago when I nailed my huge 17:38 PR.  At the go signal, I burst onto West Blackwell Street for a flat straightaway that lasted almost the entire first mile.  The cool morning air was already being burned off by the sun, which had come out and started blazing just before the start of the race.

The turn onto Salem Street sent us onto a bridge over railroad tracks, the course's only hill.  It was steep enough to cause some folks to slow down and it put me right back into the mindset of the old days (when I actually did hill training) - make the move and pass people on the hill.  I did so and, on the other side of the bridge, I hit the first mile mark with a 5:49 - my fastest mile since December!

But despite the flat terrain of Orem and Watson drives, Harrison and Wilson streets and Harding Avenue in the second mile, there was no keeping it up.  A 6:12 second mile was all I could muster.  

I was, however, in fifth place and closing in on the two guys ahead of me who were running side by side.  A big push in the final mile could get me third!

After powering up the hill again, I managed to get next to them on the straightaway back along West Blackwell Street even pulling ahead for a brief moment before falling back again.  

As I did so, the guy to my right - Matthew Rorigue - turned his head and let out a bunch of spit.  Come on, man.  Moments later, he did it again, showering my lower legs with his saliva.  What a jerk.  Barely able to breathe, let alone speak, I blurted, "Stop spitting on me!"

"Sorry," he said, but that is nonsense.  He saw me right next to him.  He had to know I was there.  What an inconsiderate jerk.

I was not next to him for much longer anyway because I was fading fast.  My third mile was a 6:13.  Matthew and the other guy, Patrick Neighbour (who squeaked past Matthew with a fraction of a second difference) went ahead and I rounding the corner into the finish line with a 19:03. (See the full results)

OK, so here are the cold, hard facts: The only other times in the past decade that I ran a 5K that took longer than 19 minutes were the windy 19-degree day in January 2018 and my first race after being sidelined for six months from back pain in June of 2015.  Despite being almost 45 years old and having run four marathons within seven months, that data hung over me pretty heavily.

But, thankfully, I had my wonderful wife, Gloria, right there on the sideline, pep talking me at the beginning, cheering me in to the end and reminding me afterward of all the things for which I should be proud (not the least of which being fifth place overall and tops in my age group!).  

She was right, of course - I should be proud.  I shook off the rust, ran the best race I could and, most importantly, got my feet back in the game for more short racing.  I am going to train hard for the next eight weeks and see what I can muster up for an October 5K.  Whatever happens, I know I continue to have my heart in my soles and to run like an antelope.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Post-marathon to 5K

Four marathons in seven months.

I have been running races for 13 years and this is the first time I have done that.  With the exception of the first of the four, they were not my best (or my worst, though), but it is still an achievement
of which I am incredibly proud.

There is, however, one huge downside to spending seven months simply logging miles - speed gets lost.  

So after one recovery week following the Mad Marathon, I made it my business to start getting back to the grind of speed training.  That meant returning to Hal Higdon's four-week Advanced Post-Marathon program, which re-introduces speed work into training with weekend tempo runs and mid-week mile intervals. 

I couched the mid-week mile intervals within seven-mile runs, taking the first, third, fifth and seventh miles slowly; and doing the second, fourth and sixth at as fast a pace I could muster.  The goal was to increase the speed of those fast miles each week.  The first week was encouraging as I was off to a good start with fast miles averaging 6:17.  But the second week saw no improvement.  Thankfully, in the third week I ran my first sub-6 mile of the year, but even then, the second two took such a sharp downward turn that my average ended up at 6:09.

During the previous few years, I was doing so much speed work that I could regularly pump out sub-6s.  Now, a little older, a bit more banged up, and a lot more out of practice, I could barely squeak out a 5:59.  In my defense, this was all happening in the blazing heat of the summer.  Trying to do tempo runs and long runs in 90-degree heat can wipe you out.  Yes, I ran 13 miles, up and over huge hills in Boonton, N.J., on the day it was 95 degrees and sunny.

The 5K I selected (with much help from Gloria) for the culmination of the training program was the 21st annual Dover Renaissance Run in Dover, N.J., on Aug. 10.  Luckily, it was the first relatively cool weekend in a while.  I was not going into it expecting much, but with a temperature in the mid-60s and low humidity, I was ready to give it all I had.  

Because that is what you do at the short races - you do not just run three miles.  You lay it all out there.

Saturday, July 27, 2019

Mad Marathon, Waitsfield, Vt. - July 7, 2019 (part two)


“This is the first time I’ve gone into a marathon feeling good since Mississippi,” I told Gloria as I stood at the starting line of the Mad Marathon.

Indeed, my hamstring was in pain in Louisiana and my calf was roughed up in Kentucky.  But on this beautiful, cool morning in the mountains of Vermont, I felt great, if a little bit nervous about the giant hills ahead of me.  But there was no pressure here.  I was standing on Main Street that morning for two reasons – to run a Vermont marathon in under four hours and to see the beautiful views that the website promised.

It was obvious that most of the other runners had a similar attitude.  Along the course, people were chatting and taking photos of the scenic vistas, delivered as advertised.  Runners encouraged each other up the seemingly endless hills and - with the exception of the winner, Dylan Thayer, and runner up, Christopher Free, who completed the course in the mind-boggling, super-human times of 2:48:52 and 2:55:29 – they did not seem to be there to race competitively.  Certainly, no one was there to get a personal record.

The first two miles was through town and over a quaint covered bridge crossing the Mad River and north along Joslin Hill Road, already doing some uphill work with a climb of a few hundred feet in altitude.  We turned onto North Road and proceeded on relatively flatter terrain and across another covered bridge to a quick out-and-back on Meadow Road and then back onto North Road to the northernmost point in the race for a turnaround.  These provided us the opportunity to give well-wishes to those in front of us and behind us in the pack; and at this super-friendly marathon, several runners did exactly that.  Since I was taking it more slowly than usual, I made sure to greet and encourage every runner that I passed (or passed me).  These little turnarounds also provided the opportunity to count runners and see where I was placed (not that it mattered…but it did…a little).  Counting the blue bibs coming back at me (half-marathoners wore yellow), I determined that I was in 27th place in these early miles, and my pace was at around 8:00 per mile, right on target.

The next several miles took us south on North Road, past where we turned from Joslin Hill Road, and south on Common Road and East Warren Road toward something the race officials referred to as “the dip”, which was a sharp downhill followed by a sharp uphill (each about 200 feet in elevation), before continuing the long 900-foot ascent that started around mile seven and finally peaked at around mile 16.  I managed to tackle the dip at a reasonable pace of around 9:00 per mile, and as the long ascent wore on, the difficulty was eased by the gorgeous views of the mountains and ski slopes as well as a happy fellow named Cary who recognized me from the Hatfield & McCoy Marathon last month. While I tried to maintain a somewhat even (though slow) pace of running, his tactic was to run the short downhills and walk the steep uphills. This had the effect of us constantly leap-frogging each other during several miles, giving us a chance to chat a bit about the craziness of what we were doing (and remark on how wonderfully tolerant our wives were throughout it all).

The elevation finally leveled off a bit as we turned off of East Warren Road and made a rectangle along Roxbury Mountain, Senor, Fuller Hill and Plunkton roads before heading back north on East Warren into the last few miles of the race.  After all that uphill climbing, that four-mile section should have felt good; but instead, I felt fatigued on its gently rolling terrain. I was logging miles in the low-8s at that point, and I accepted this to be completely fine.  I think had even gotten myself as far as 25th place at one point, so everyone else must have slowed down, too.

What goes up must come down, so when I was finally on East Warren, with a net downhill for the final seven miles of the race, I decided it would be OK to pick up the pace again, since the hard work was over.  This worked out well for miles 20 through 22, hitting my first sub-8-minute miles since the first half of the race and what might have been my fastest mile all day.  But I had forgotten one thing – the return of the dip.

Somehow, it had slipped my mind that on the return trip toward town, I would have to tackle the dip again.  The steep uphill even looked more daunting this time.  No matter how slowly I took the ascent (upper 9s) it felt like too much work.  By the time I crested the hill, I was officially ready for the race to be over.  Adding anxiety to my fatigue, a few runners were coming back toward me, saying we were all going the wrong way.  I have learned from my past experiences to keep a copy of the map and turn-by-turn directions in my pocket, so I stopped for a moment, checked my notes, determined that we were on the right track, and pressed on.

I knew everything was OK, but I felt uneasy, so hitting the mile 23 marker was a bit of relief.  Still, some damage had been done – the energy drain of the climb out of the dip and the nervous feeling of possibly being off course sent my stomach into a tailspin.  I tend to carry stress and anxiety in my tummy, and it was being pushed to the brink as I made the turn onto Joslin Hill Road for the final 5K of the course.  As it has in so many previous races (but not since Youngstown last year), my stomach knotted up tightly, signing the death warrant for this race.  All I could do for the last three miles was survive.

Mile 24 took more than 10 minutes.  “So what,” I thought.  “People run entire marathons at a slower pace.  I just need to run two more miles in the next half hour.” 

The pain grew so great, it felt like there were evil hands inside my belly wringing out my stomach like a wet washcloth – gripping and twisting, tighter and tighter.  I could not take it anymore, so I walked for about a minute, and the pain subsided.  But as soon as I tried to run again, it came right back.  I suppose I could have walked to the finish and still come in under four hours (barely), but that is just not me. 

So I pushed on.  It did not matter how slowly, as long as I was running, because running a marathon means running a marathon.  OK, I was probably shuffling more than running at that point, but it was still slightly faster than walking.  I was also grunting and groaning from the intense pain; so much so, that a volunteer near the covered bridge at Mile 25 asked if I needed help.  I told him it was stomach problem and that I would make it.

Finally on Main Street, with several runners passing me, I was relieved that it was almost over - 23 amazing, beautiful, challenging but fun miles, followed by three awful, painful, gut-wrenching ones.

The last mile probably took about 12 minutes (and seemed like an eternity), but every step brought me closer to the end, and when I made the last turn and saw the finish line (and Gloria, who immediately recognized that I was suffering), I stretched my arms out, tried to straighten up my posture, and entered the chute in the grassy area, surrounded by various flags on each side, and an archway that resembled a barn.

Once I crossed (at 3:43:14, second out of 17 in the males 40-44 group) I immediately hit the ground, doubled over and kneeling, trying to catch my breath, thinking I may lose composure and start outright weeping.  Gloria helped me up and we made our way to a picnic table where I rested for a few minutes.  Once my stomach and breath normalized, the fatigue in my legs kicked in as we slowly walked to Gloria’s car.  Within a half hour, we were back at the hotel and I was showering, and at noon, we checked out and hit the road.  I would have loved to stick around the beautiful towns of Waitsfield and Warren, but we had a seven-hour drive ahead of us. 

Once we got home, we met with our friends and went out to an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet.  Still wearing my huge medal and baby-stepping to the buffet, I was asked by a 20-something kid if the medal was from a marathon and where.  I told him I had just run a marathon in northern Vermont.

“You ran a marathon in Vermont this morning?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I know, crazy, right?”

Not just crazy.  Mad.

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Mad Marathon, Waitsfield, VT (part one)

48 hours after Gloria and I drove home from the Phish shows in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., we headed north again, and this time it was a six-hour drive to Waitsfield, Vt., for the Mad Marathon.

Northern Vermont, of course, is the birthplace of that band that I love so much, and the area is steeped in Phishtory.  The last time I was up there, I went to Burlington and saw Nectar’s, which is now legendary for being the venue where Phish essentially formed its sound by playing dozens of shows there in its early years.

A lesser known venue, however, is Gallagher’s, where the band played several gigs in those same formative years (often between Nectar’s gigs).  Though Gallagher’s is no more, the building still stands and is occupied by Sage restaurant. It just so happens that the place is at the end of Main Street in downtown Waitsfield, down the block from the start line of the Mad Marathon.  It was quite interesting see the little building where the same band that had sold out Fenway Park that very weekend played to tiny audiences 30 years ago.

As with our previous three marathons, it was pouring rain on the day before, and packet pickup was under a tent outside the Waitsfield Inn on Main Street.  Despite it being warmer than 70 degrees (F), the rain gave me chills.  At that point, I just wanted to eat an early dinner (delicious Italian food down the block at Peasant), have a local craft beer (at the Local Folk Smokehouse), check into our hotel (the lovely Sugarbush Inn in nearby Warren) and wind down.

There was no time for sightseeing on this trip.  We would be in town for less than 24 hours.  But I knew that if the hype was to be believed, there would be plenty of scenery to view during the marathon.  After all, that was why we made the trip to Vermont, only four weeks after the Hatfield & McCoy Marathon.  This race would be all about taking it slow and taking it all in.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Phish at Saratoga Performing Arts Center, Saratoga Springs, N.Y. - July 3, 2019

On March 6, 2009, when Phish returned to the stage for the first time since 2004, they opened with “Fluffhead”, a song they had not played in almost nine years.  Opening with “Fluffhead” is their musical equivalent of throwing down the gauntlet; a promise, nay, a prideful boast, that says the band is ready to attack its composed material and take you on a special journey.

It is too bad, then, that when they opened with “Fluffhead” on July 3 at SPAC, it fell a bit short of the lofty expectations that it presented.  The “Who Do? We Do!” and “The Chase” sections had some flubby playing by Trey Anastasio, taking me out of the moment. The triumphant “Arrival” ending temporarily lifted my spirits and had me literally leaping, but a thoroughly botched middle section of “Guyute” had me cringing as Jon Fishman somehow ended up being a half-measure ahead of Trey in the fast-jig part.  It was brutal.

Thankfully, they knew to come back with a gimme in the form of “Martian Monster”, an easy riff for heavy jamming.  Course corrected, fast numbers like “Llama” and “Poor Heart” kept spirits high, “Crazy Sometimes” reminded me why it is one of my preferred newer Mike Gordon tunes, and “Steam” brought the slinky groove I love so much. “Silent in the Morning” (preceded by a barely-played “The Horse”) was perfectly placed at the back end of the set, giving way to what was, at first, a surprise in the rare performance of “Sleep”, but made perfect sense as it led into my favorite new multi-part epic, “Drift While You’re Sleeping” to end the set.  It was the first song to be repeated from the Camden run and, boy oh boy, I was still as glad to hear it as I was just days before.

That grouping got me thinking about how the titles of some of the other new tunes by Ghosts of the Forest share similarities with older Phish songs.  Maybe in the future we can see “Ghosts of the Forest > Ghost”, “Friend > Friends”, “About to Run > Run Like an Antelope”, “Halfway Home > Home”, “The Line > In Long Lines”, “Waves > Ruby Waves”, “Brief Time > Liquid Time > Party Time” or “Waiting in the Velvet Sea >  Beneath a Sea of Stars”.

Picking up on the much improved second half of the first set, the band got everyone dancing right away in set two with “No Men in No Man’s Land”, and even though on paper, it might seem like a disappointment to have the ballad “Dirt” in the second slot, it worked nicely and it gave way to the best sequence of the night, as “Plasma” wove its slow-funk groove into “We Are Come to Outlive Our Brains”, only to eventually have “Plasma” briefly teased before a full-on segue into “Tweezer Reprise” that caused the crowd to erupt, with glowsticks flying everywhere.

Somehow, they managed to shift the energy after the enormous “Reprise” into a well-played “The Wedge” that I was really hoping would slip back into “Plasma”, but it was not to be.  No arguments here, though, on the choice “Sneaking Sally Through the Alley” to keep the groove party going.  And while “Run Like an Antelope” is almost always welcome, it was absolutely the weakest “Antelope” jam I had ever heard.  Thankfully, they knew not to end the set there, giving us an excellent “More” that could (and probably should) have ended the set.  Instead, much like the opening of the show, expectations were set high to end it on a glorious note with “Slave to the Traffic Light”.  The jam was big, but I have seen bigger and better.

The show ended with the second shortest encore of the tour – a seven-minute “Rock and Roll” that packed a big punch in the jam and its super-big ending, despite the thoroughly bungled lick from Trey in the middle break of the song.

With the exception of the first half of the second set, this was a show that may be worth a casual listen, but without any expectations that minds will be blown.  Not the best way to end my five-show run, though I still would not trade it for anything.  Summer 2019 was shaping up to be one heck of a tour.  I am excited to hear what is to come at Mohegan Sun, Fenway Park and Alpine Valley.

Monday, July 15, 2019

Phish at Saratoga Performing Arts Center, Saratoga Springs, N.Y. - July 2, 2019

SPAC has a long and fruitful history with Phish as a venue where excellent shows have taken place during each era of the band. The 3.0-era, especially, has seen some multi-night runs that have produced fantastic jams and the venue continues to be a fan favorite. 

Imagine my surprise when my wife, Gloria, and my friend, Marshall, both attending SPAC for the first time, expressed their displeasure with the place. Sure, it has its problems - the stage is not visible from the lawn, the venue can get quite crowded and the entrance and exit usually elicits a feeling of being herded like cattle - but still! This is SPAC, a magical place where great music consistently gets conjured up (their Twitter handle is even @MagicOfSPAC)!

Thank goodness the music made up for the venue's alleged shortcomings. We staked out a spot in the rear of the main lawn near some trees as the party got started with a debut opener from out of nowhere, the old Everly Brothers song, "Cathy's Clown" followed by the "Tweezer Reprise" we thought we would get in Camden - the rare first-set appearance of the latter hearkening back to that wacky time they opened and closed a show with it at SPAC in 2010 (after playing it twice at the previous show).

Things stayed pretty rocking for most of the set, with "Carini", "AC/DC Bag", "Home" (during which they nailed the harmonies) and a total rager of a "Bathtub Gin". "Theme From the Bottom" slowed things down and the usually reliable set-closer "Walls of the Cave" fell flat. But there was levity and laughter, too - when Jon Fishman came in before the modulation for his vocal on "The Moma Dance" and then almost aborted it (making me think for a brief moment that it would end up as its instrumental counterpart, "Black Eyed Katy"), and when Fish and Trey Anastasio continued cracking each other up with a strange "heee-hawww" lick that the former sang and the latter played on guitar (something they had been doing in Camden, too) during an extended "Meat".

The second set really packed a punch right out of the gate with the Kasvot Vaxt song "Cool Amber and Mercury" to open and back-to-back amazeballs jams in "Down With Disease" and "Scents and Subtle Sounds" (the latter including the rarely played intro section). The set then turned from straight-up rocking, with "Twist" and "Wilson", to romping fun with "Scent of a Mule", "Halley's Comet" and the rare oddball "Fuck Your Face" (not a dirty song, as one might suspect, but rather about a guitar that sounds so awesome it will do what the title suggests). A good (but not great) "Harry Hood" closed the set.  Had that been the show closer, it might have been a little disappointing, but we had an encore to come.

The band came back onstage and played "Fee", which I predicted right away would involve Trey Anastasio messing up the lyrics.  Not only was I correct, but the megaphone through which he sings the verses started conking out on him, too, leaving the whole thing a bit of a mess.  But, hey, this is summer 2019, when encores have usually been at least two, sometimes three or four, songs, so there was room for redemption.  And redemption we got with the absolutely gorgeous Ghosts of the Forest song "A Life Beyond the Dream" followed by a banging "First Tube" that got some numbnut in the audience so excited, he jumped onstage, ran past Trey and then around by Jon Fishman's drums before being escorted away.

It was a slamming end to a show that was not perfect, but had some excellent bits that are definitely worth a few repeated listens ("Cathy's Clown", "Bathtub Gin", "Disease" and "Scents", for sure).  Not only that, but it was the fourth show in a row with no repeated songs, which is one of the big reasons I have kept coming back, especially to the magic of SPAC.

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Marathon XXII


Two quick turnarounds in the span of seven months?  Why not?

After the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon in December, I did the Louisiana Marathon six weeks later, but I was hurting after effectively tying my personal record.

But after the Hatfield & McCoy Marathon last month, I was feeling good (for a change).  I already set my sights on another one – the Mad Marathon on July 7 in Vermont, the 21st state in my increasingly difficult quest to run a marathon in all 50, each in under four hours, and on a very limited budget.  But I could make this work…

…as long as I did a long run while on Phish tour and got Gloria’s help to drive up to Waitsfield, Vt., backtracking up north two days after driving home from Saratoga Springs (which is essentially halfway to Waitsfield).

It also required truly committing to the “under four hours” rule, accepting that 3:59:59 would be a favorable result.  The Mad Marathon involves an awful lot of hills, ascending from around 600 to 1,600 feet above sea level.  In my previous marathon that involved a thousand-foot incline – the Red Rock Canyon Marathon in Las Vegas, Nev. – I learned my lesson from the one before that (the Park City Marathon in Utah) and took the advice of the fellow runner that suggested, “Start slow, and then back off.” I would have to abide by that philosophy again and not get carried away with myself.

After all, a 9-minute pace would still bring me in under four hours.

Running a sub-four marathon on an extremely challenging course, only four weeks after my last one, the week after a Phish tour, six hours away from home, leaving on Saturday and coming home on race day, then going to work on Monday?

That sounds like a ridiculous plan.  One would have to be mad.

Ah, the Mad Marathon it is.

Saturday, July 6, 2019

Phish at BB&T Pavilion, Camden, NJ - June 30, 2019

On Sunday morning, I got up bright and early to run 20 miles from the Cherry Hill Mall, through East Camden and Camden, over the Ben Franklin Bridge into Philadelphia, through downtown Philly, up the steps of the art museum (like Rocky!) and back again. I conked out pretty hard in the 14th mile, struggling to the end, but I hope I can blame that on the hot, sunny morning and the fact that I was tired from dancing all night, rather than a deficiency in my fitness level.

The general consensus about the 6/30 show follows suit with the "never miss a Sunday show" rule (as already evidenced this tour with the previous two Sundays - 6/23 at Merriweather Post Pavilion and 6/16 at Bonnaroo). Most people I spoke to and overheard after the show said it was the best of the three Camden shows.

I disagree. There's no doubt that some great things happened this past Sunday, but for my money, Saturday ruled the Camden weekend.

The main problem was execution. As I noted yesterday, playing the songs well still matters to me and that was not happening during the first set. "The Curtain With" opener was slow, sloppy and lacking any energy whatsoever. Not much better can be said for "Buried Alive", "Camel Walk", "Pebbles and Marbles" and "The Mango Song" (all of which I was admittedly extremely happy to hear, regardless of uninspired playing). That's not to say the set was a total mess. "Fast Enough for You", "Tela" and "Driver" kept the slow stuff pretty, "Reba" showed that they could nail the intricate composed parts if they really try, and "Sample in a Jar" brought some big energy that was lacking elsewhere in the set. The set-closing "David Bowie" was effective enough, but nothing about which to write home.

With the exception of "Pebbles", the first set could have been from 1993, and a comparatively lame one at that.

Thankfully, the second set rebounded in a big way - enough for folks to forget the first half and deem this show a winner.

It is easy to see why with three huge jams - the fifth-ever "Mr. Completely" to open the set, followed by the longest-ever and most varied "Twenty Years Later" jam that was a total contrast to some of the plodding versions of the decade and the trippy psychedelic version from Albany on 10/16/2018, and after a brief excursion into "Big Black Furry Creature From Mars", a tight "Tweezer" that got some more serious jamming in during its relatively short 13 minutes. My favorite 3.0 ballad "Shade" got me all gooey, but "Most Events Aren't Plannned" (pilfered from Page McConnell's band Vida Blue during 2017's Baker's Dozen and played for the fourth time since) got the dancing shoes moving again. Once they got their white-boy reggae out of the way with "Makisupa Policeman", the powerful one-two punch of an excellently executed "Chalk Dust Torture" that stayed grounded yet raging and "Suzy Greenberg" that probably would have sounded even better if Page's piano was higher in the mix (a constant problem throughout the weekend), but was still awesome and rocking.

A three song encore put the button on the Camden run of shows, with the surprise selections of "Punch You in the Eye" and a gorgeous "What's the Use" (which got ever so quiet) before the surprising lack of "Tweezer Reprise", eschewed for one of the better versions of "Julius" I have heard in a while - slow, yes, but swinging hard.

It was a fantastic second set and encore, indeed, making the show well worth the price of admission and making up for the flat first set, but not enough to change my mind that 6/29 was the champion of the Camden weekend.

Friday, July 5, 2019

Phish at BB&T Pavilion, Camden, NJ - June 29, 2019


A “Mike’s Song” show opener is quite rare.  A classic “Mike’s Groove” (“Mike’s Song > I Am Hydrogen > Weekapaug Groove”) is also quite rare.  So a classic “Mike’s Groove” to open the show?  That is how you start things off on the right foot.

Set list statistics are fun, but when it comes down to it, Phish is only getting half the job done by playing rarities that make us get all giddy with excitement.  The songs also have to be played well and, thankfully, the execution was precise – not only on the opening trio of tunes, but the entire first set, which was comprised almost exclusively of classic-era tunes. “Divided Sky” was lovely and perfectly appropriate as sundown approached with an orange-tinged sky; “Guelah Papyrus” was spot on and fun (even the middle “The Asse Festival” section was well-played); “Sparkle” had its usual hoot of an ending; and “Roggae”, though not the best version I have heard, was pretty. “Everything’s Right” was the only 3.0 (modern-era) tune of the set and it is hard not to groove on its funky beat and positive vibe; and the 2.0 (middle-era) “46 Days” closed the set with total blistering rock.  Though the jams were good, this set was not about that. Much like first sets such as 12/30/1994, this was a master class in how to play a killer set without even needing to create jams that people will talk about for the ages.

The second set followed suit, for the most part, with the only song that was more than 10 minutes long being the new Ghost of the Forest song “Ruby Waves” – and quite a jam it was.  The set opening “Blaze On” also stretched out nicely, but “Golden Age”, usually a good launching pad for a long and varied jam never really lifted off.  The Kasvot Vaxt tune “Death Don’t Hurt Very Long”, a vehicle for scorching slow-blues soloing in previous renditions, stopped short at three minutes this time around. “NICU” was standard, “Rift” left a bit to be desired (Trey Anastasio hit a lot of clunkers in the closing section), and the lack of a bigger jam in “Ghost” would have been disappointing if not for the quite-natural segue into a big, loud “Say It to Me S.A.N.T.O.S.” (another KV tune that was great to hear for the first time live) to close the set.  Still, it was the slow section of the set that really moved me – the Ghost of the Forest tune “Beneath a Sea of Stars Part 1” and “Waiting All Night” played back to back provided 13 minutes of prettiness that some fans might find tedious (I am looking at you, Marshall), especially if they want to dance and rage, but I find to be a perfect showcase for the way Trey can paint a beautiful aural picture with his guitar.

With the set ending at around 11 p.m., there was plenty of time for a long encore, and we got one – 20 minutes of Phish’s signature song, “You Enjoy Myself” (excellently played), along with an a cappella “Grind” (hilariously botched) closed out the night on another satisfying note.

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Phish at BB&T Pavilion, Camden, NJ - June 28, 2019

It was too bad that Phish had already played "Petrichor" at their previous show because no night would have been better for the lyrics "and the rain came down" than Friday in Camden.
Gloria, Marshall, aLi, and I staked out a spot all the way in the back of the lawn section. Rumor had it that the sound on the lawn would be improved this year, thanks to Phish bringing some of its own speakers to help round out the usually thin sound back there.

But shortly after we got there, the skies opened up and a torrential storm erupted. It was so bad that an announcement was made encouraging everyone on the lawn to go inside the pavilion until it passed. We did so, but by then we were already soaked. The storm eventually did pass, but the show did not start until around 8:45 p.m.

We were wet and uncomfortable (especially my companions in their cotton clothing - whereas I wore my polyester running gear!) but we were ready to rock.

The first set had some well-played tunes with standard jams that were not mind blowing, but certainly effective to keep us dancing and grooving ("Set Your Soul Free", "Halfway to the Moon", "Birds of a Feather", "Wolfman's Brother"). "The Old Home Place" is a favorite of mine and aLi's from way back, "Horn" was nice to hear with Trey Anastasio hitting the ever-modulating solo perfectly, "Timber" is always fun to hear, and the lyrical forgetfulness made "Train Song" funny.
The big Set One highlights, though, were the rarities - my third "Wombat" (played only 17 times since its debut six years ago), which I had not seen since summer of 2014 but still makes me dance like a big ol' dancing fool; and "Strawberry Letter 23", the old Brothers Johnson tune debuted by Phish on Strawberry night of the Baker's Dozen run in 2017 and played only one other time since then - and the new "Drift While You're Sleeping", which debuted two months ago by Trey and Jon Fishman in their other band, Ghost of the Forest. Of all the songs from those shows, I did not expect this multipart, intricately composed and arranged epic to make it into the Phish repertoire (but, duh, that is not exactly strange territory for Phish), and I am glad it did, because those four simple yet profound lines in the gorgeous climax ("We move through stormy weather. We know our days are few. We dream and we struggle together; and love will carry us through") give me chills every time.

The six-song second set contained the big jams, like "No Men in No Man's Land", "Light" and "Mercury" (one of my favorite songs of 3.0, which had me worried at first because of the sloppy solo in the "tomb of the red queen" section). We also got some more newer tunes like the Kasvot Vaxt hit "We Are Come to Outlive Our Brains" and the GOTF song "About to Run" (not my favorite, but still good). The only song that was not from 3.0 in the set was the set-closing, heavy-climaxing (despite Fish missing the cue) "Run Like an Antelope".

"Sleeping Monkey" and a perfect "Quinn the Eskimo" provided an encore that left everyone in my crew (all of whom like different aspects of Phish) happy and satisfied. And ready for more.