The Final Forty & the BOP'ers

Earlier this month, while looking for reviews and results of the Cranford Firecracker Four-Miler, I stumbled upon what has become my new favorite running blog: The Final Forty by Jennifer L. Nelson.

Ms. Nelson's story is awesome and inspiring.  To put it briefly, she was overweight and she decided to do something about it, so she started running (and kickboxing and Taekwondo).  Having shed almost 100 pounds, she aims to lose forty more in order to be at her optimum healthy weight.

What makes her story so interesting and humbling to me is that she is a runner for all the right reasons.  

I will be the first to admit that during the past decade, my pursuit has been to get faster and more competitive, pushing for PRs at almost every race, gunning for the medals - age group and, eventually, overall.  Every race became a new struggle with harder work.  Somewhere along the line, I might have lost touch with the reason I started in the first place. 

Jennifer Nelson's blog has reminded me of the reality of what we do as runners and why we do it - we aim to be healthy, fit and happy.  Nothing more is needed to reap the rewards of running than to simply do it.  

The Final Forty also serves as a reminder of the determination of the back-of-packers.  If you think they have it easier because they are running slower, think again.  I finish a 5K in 19 minutes and am already cooling down, drinking water and chowing on a banana while people like Ms. Nelson are just starting the third mile.  

How about marathons?  I can do a 20-miler on a Sunday and still have most of my day ahead of me.  BOP'ers are out there for several hours, toughing it out.  I can not imagine running for five hours on hot days like we have been having here in New Jersey.  Yet they do it.  With pride. 

This is why, whenever possible, I try to stay at the finish line at all of my races and cheer for everyone else, right down to the last runner.  The struggle of the person finishing in 35 minutes is no different than the struggle of those who finish at the front.  We are all there for the same reason.  We are all runners and we all deserve to congratulate each other on our efforts, because only we really know what it takes. 

New Year's Runs: 1994 and 2014

With summer tour finally upon us, let us take a step back to look at where Phish last left off - the New Year's run - and contrast it with that of 20 years earlier.

In the mid-1990s, my friend aLi told me that even Phish's weakest shows were still the sonic equivalent of someone giving her flowers.  That is to say that Phish shows at their worst were still wonderful.  I can not help but agree - Phish shows of that era were in the same league as pizza and sex.

Five years after the shaky 2009 reunion, Phish has finally gotten to the point where that is true again.  Some 2014 shows were exceptional and the rest were still excellent representations of this unique and still-evolving band.  So, OK, stacked against 7/13/14, 7/27/14, or 10/31/14, none of these last four shows match up.  But it puts a smile on my face to think that this is the worst thing I can say. 

There were moments, large and small, that make these shows worth a good hard listen.  New Year's Eve is the winner of the bunch. The triple play of "Ghost -> Theme From the Bottom -> Cities" contain jams that veer far away from their main structures while retaining strong musical sense and groove.  It is the band doing what it has done best ever since the colossal "Tweezer" from 2013 reminded everyone that it can still jam and, arguably, better than ever.  Placing Halloween jams such as "Martian Monster" and "The Dogs" in such prime New Year's Eve spots as Set II closer and first song after midnight, respectively, shows the healthy faith the band has in these new pieces - just as "Fuego" rang in 2014 a year before - and with good reason, too.  "Tweezer" in its classic placement as a Set III powerhouse does not disappoint, even if it also does not approach the aforementioned Tahoe version.  But even the shorter songs include on-point mini-jams, soaring solos and (save for a few flubs) perfect execution.

Still, where was the spectacle?  On any other night, a giant inflatable likeness of Jon Fishman appearing over the crowd after the band does an a cappella rendition of "Dem Bones" would be hilarious and the talk of all the phans.  But to ring in the new year, it fell a bit flat compared with the MSG years.

The shows that followed offered countless reasons to be glad, though.  After a killer first-set-ending "Bathtub Gin", set II of 1/1/15 offered a party sandwich of ragers like "Twist", "Piper", "Run Like an Antelope" and "Rock and Roll" as the bread, with beautiful ballads as the meat.  Though nothing else in the first set of 1/2/15 soared like "Stash" did, the second set was a knockout. From its "Mike's Song" start to its "Walls of the Cave" end, it was climax after blissful climax.  And 1/3/15 includes what might be the best "Split Open and Melt" in years (faint praise) and one of the most inventive and exploratory versions of "Down With Disease" since the previous New Year's run (high praise), the latter only to be marred by the poorly executed ripcord crash into "Light" (which ended up being a fantastic jam in its own right, as it usually does).


None of this excellence, though, can compare to what had transpired 20 years before. The 1994 jams were getting wilder, woolier and longer.  There was frenetic energy in songs like "Melt" and "Julius".  Listen to any 1994 "Run Like an Antelope" and you hear a band that can hardly contain itself.  Sure, none of the ever-expanding versions of "Tweezer" had the deep musicality of the recent era - but the band was willing to pull out all the stops and try everything they could as they explored the breadth of what a rock and roll band can do when given the chance to really stretch out.  December 1994 represented the culmination of the leaps and bounds of that year.  

As great as 12/28/94 is (with the "Weekapaug Groove" that goes every which way, ending up in a darkly bizarre minor key rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" before seamlessly nailing its major key ending), it could only hint at what was to come the following night.

Though the distinction of "best show ever" changes often for me, 12/29/94 is always at or near the top.  And even if it is not the best show, it does contain what is undoubtedly the undisputed greatest rendition of "David Bowie" in the band's history.  If nothing else, 12/28/94 is my go-to show for when a non-phan wants to know what all the fuss is about.  The second set alone does every single thing that a truly top-notch Phish show can do - extended composed pieces ("Guyute" and "The Lizards"), a crazy long and unbelievably improvised jam that includes both weirdness and blissful peaks ("Bowie"), comic relief ("Cracklin' Rosie"), a faithful rock cover ("Good Times Bad Times"), bluegrass ("My Long Journey Home"), and a grand ending ("Sleeping Monkey").

Yet even that was all to set the stage for 12/30/94, the band's (and my) first show at Madison Square Garden, which began with an extremely focused and tight first set and followed with a second set of long and twisty versions of "Tweezer" and "You Enjoy Myself" - two of their heaviest hitters - played with only a short bluegrass tune ("Blue and Lonesome") in between.  And if you think that Fishman's vaccuum cleaner was just noise, check out this "Purple Rain" for the most musical vac solo ever.

Yet even that was no match for the extravaganza on 12/31/94 at Boston Garden. In Set II, "Maze" got pushed to extreme heights and length; "Mike's Song" jammed its way into and out of the rare "Buffalo Bill", and into the as-rare (and final performance to date of) "Y-Rushalayim Shel Zahav"; and "Weekapaug Groove" includes an "Auld Lang Syne" tease before finishing its seeming nonstop ability to make you boogie. As Set III started, they cut off "My Sweet One" to bring in the wackiness. The giant hot dog descended over the arena crowd and nothing would ever be the same again - the standard for New Year's Eve spectacle was set.  All future NYE gags would be compared to the hot dog - even the later two that featured the crazy prop again (1999 and 2010). You do not ever forget the image of a band playing "Auld Land Syne" while flying above the crowd in a giant frankfurter - even if you were not even there (and, sadly, I was not). But one look at any photograph of the stunt and you realize that this was not and would never be a typical rock and roll band.

An hour later, after the soaring set-ending ecstasy of "Slave to the Traffic Light" and the rocking "Simple" encore that featured one last reprise of "Auld Land Syne", it was the end of something truly special that unfolded over the course of four nights.  This is what Phish at its glorious best can do.

Even when it is not at that paramount peak, Phish can provide a singular, incomparable experience.  1994 and 2014 were a lot alike in that way.  And it certainly gives us something to which to look forward as summer tour begins tonight.

Cranford Jaycees Firecracker 4-miler

At the start line, I had a sinking feeling that this was a very, very bad idea.

At the finish line, I was elated to have finished as well as I had.

In between those two moments was a high-quality, well-organized race with more than a thousand participants.  The course was mostly flat and the finish in beautiful Nomahegan Park was lovely. The post-race festivities were fun, entertaining and enjoyably silly (I won a pint glass for being the guy with the best legs!).

As I continue to work my way out of an injured state, I find myself in some sort of racing shape, but not close to what I was doing seven months ago.  The June 5K was a good start.  Rather than try to get faster in the short game, I decided to increase the racing distance.  Thus, this four-miler - a rare racing distance that I crushed with a 23:50 last year.

My initial confidence led me closer to the front of this start line, but while we waited I started having serious doubts.  It forced me to go out fast, for better or worse.  

I passed several people in the first mile, which seemed mostly downhill.  Was I going too fast and heading for a blowout?  My modest target was a 6:20 pace.  First mile - 6:06.

Whoa.  Do I reel it in or keep pushing?  Mile two also seemed mostly downhill and though I told myself to dial it back a bit, I was intent on catching up to the guy in front of me who might have been in my age group (in retrospect, I think it was Manuel Pereira, 10 years my senior).  Second mile - 6:12.

After I passed Mr. Pereira, I could feel him at my heels for the next mile, so I kept the pressure on. I was feeling it, though, and this thing was only halfway done. Plus, I suspected we would have to go uphill at any moment.  

However, it never seemed like the altitude we re-gained was equal to the decline we experienced.  Or maybe I was more trained than I thought.  Third mile - 6:14. 

As it often goes, I was near the leading female (20-year-old Emily Rabenold) throughout the second half.  By the end of the third mile, she was right behind me and gaining fast.  I knew this because women on the sidelines always cheer and for (and clearly point out) the first woman.  Those cheers came closer to me as we pressed on.  Once on the trail that led to the park and the finish, she passed me.

I am glad she did because With less than a half-mile to go, I now had one mission - stay on Ms. Rabenold and beat her.  Before she passed, I could feel myself fading.  My legs were fatigued and the ache in my back was setting in.  Now, I had a reason to push through the pain and kick hard.

As I furiously chased her along the park path, I passed a teenager (Drew Patterson) and a fellow 40-year-old (Jeff Staple). But in that final stretch, she had enough of a sprint to stay in front of me - by only 7/10 of a second.  Still, had it not been for the chase of Ms. Rabenold, I probably would not have won my own age group.  Fourth mile - 6:08.  Thank you, Emily, for being my rabbit!

Total time - 24:40.  Average pace - 6:10 per mile.  Overall placement - 28th of 1,124.  Age group placement - first of 72.  Not so much a comeback as a spirited return, but I will take it and move on to a 10K in a couple of weeks.

Dad's Dash 5K in Westwood, NJ

My return to racing was on a humid, gray, rainy morning. It could have been worse - the original forecast called for thunderstorms.

As recovery from my mysterious back injury continues, I run with varying degrees of pain (at worst) or ache (at best). Six months after that day when it all fell apart, I still struggle. 

On the plus side, I am able to run faster and longer with each passing week. Though I do not feel the blissful joy in running that I did pre-injury, I still have the motivation to get out there after each day's endless stretching and strengthening exercises.

It was inevitable that the time would come to race, but at the end of the eight-week Hal Higdon Intermediate 5K program, I was unsure of whether a race was a good idea. But if I did not race, then I would never keep up the drive to improve; and how would I gauge the results of my efforts?

With that in mind, I entered this 5K in beautiful Westwood, where at least half of the race takes place within a park. The setup was excellent - plenty of food and drinks, a DJ (playing Grateful Dead, among others!), and good vibes despite the fact that the race was in honor of a local fallen Marine.

The rain tapered off before the start of the race, but the humidity was stifling. Glad I ran shirtless. I placed myself near the front, knowing that six months ago I would have stepped right up to the line. At the go signal, I pushed it like I normally would, knowing that the effort would not net what I was used to on 2014.

The first mile of this flat course (a loop the parks) was surprisingly decent - 6:09. I did not think I was going that fast.

The opposite was true for the second mile as we took a path into another section of parkland before heading out to the street. It was a 6:19, but I thought I was going faster.

I could feel myself running out of gas in the third mile, fighting through the fatigue, lower back pain and humidity. I pushed with all my might, but continued to peter out as I hit the third mile mark with a 6:20.

Digging deep for the final tenth, I crossed the finish at 19:20, taking 11th of 342 overall and 209 men, and second out of 30 men in my 40-44 age group. Nothing to complain about, sure, but it was my slowest in six years and the first time I ran over 19:00 in just as long. That mental ache matched my physical pain as the morning went on and I could not get my back into a comfortable position.

A comeback? Not really. But how do you treat such a race, knowing that six months ago, you could have beaten that time by almost a minute; yet five months ago, you could barely walk? What ends up being the standard by which you judge?

Screw it. I should not judge it at all. It is not a comeback. It is a reboot. Like it or not, I am a different runner now. I should let this new era begin and stand on its own, judging future races only against those from this point on. It is Daniel 2.0.