NYC Marathon video!

At long last, here is the half-hour movie I made from the videos and photos I shot during this year's New York City Marathon.  I hope you enjoy it!

If you can't view it from here, try this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS0KUf81cao

37 seconds of feeling like a pro

After a fantastic week of fast 400-meter intervals, a marathon-pace 13-miler, and easy short runs that were still strong, I crapped out on Thursday with an awful attempt at a tempo run, a six-miler that fell far short of the intended half-marathon pace, and an agonizing long run at a 8:45 pace.

Yesterday morning, I changed it up and did eight 200-meter intervals in preparation for this weekend's Passaic Chanukah 5K Race. The point of these short repeats was to push the pace as much as possible, to teach my body what it really means to truly go all out.

These short bursts averaged 38 seconds apiece, but one of those repeats was 37. This was monumentally significant. Why, you ask?
 
Since a mile is 1609 meters (or a slight bit more than four laps around the track), 200 meters (a half-lap) is roughly an eighth of a mile. Multiply 37 seconds by eight and you get 4:56.

That's right - for a little more than a half-minute, I ran at a sub-5:00 pace. Wow.

Of course, I would never be able to sustain that, even to 400 meters.  My best 400 was 1:18, four years ago, and that extrapolates to a 5:12 pace.  But for just a moment yesterdat - or 37 of them - I was able to feel the speed of the pros.  And it was quite amazing.

Trinity Academy Reindeer Run 5K

I have been following Hal Higdon's training programs since day one, so as per usual, the post-marathon plan was five weeks of marathon recovery, shifting gears to focus on the short and fast training. The plan culminates in a 5K and, I am happy to say, it often results in a PR or something close to it.

In fact, the last time I did it, in April after the Lower Potomac River Marathon, I did indeed (and rather unexpectedly) get a personal record at the Got 2B Safe 5K.  I wasn't expecting as much this time, but I threw my heart, soul and legs into this year's Trinity Academy Reindeer Run 5K with all my might.

I had run this race last year and nailed a third place overall finish with an 18:35.  So this year I knew to expect the incline for the first half and the decline for the second, and also that it consisted of only four turns, one of which is actually more like a veer than a pace-killing turn.

Expecting the competition to be similar to last year, I placed myself at the front at the start, so imagine my surprise when more than a dozen runners surged forth in front of me at the "go" signal.  Right off the bat, I watched the two major front-runners (at a sub-5:00 pace!) cruise off into the distance behind the pace car.

The first mile was clocked at 6:05, which was not acceptable; not with the speed work and pace runs I had been killing myself with, so I picked up the pace, no matter how much it hurt.  And it did hurt.

There was no clock at the second mile marker and I did not care, because no matter what numbers were, it would not have detracted from the mission of the next six minutes - to run as absolutely fast as I possibly could.

As I did just that, I started closing in on the teenager ahead of me. But as I got close, he must have heard me coming up behind him, so he pulled away.  This only caused me to push more.  And because I chased that kid with all my might, I saw the clock at the finish line - directly placed, rather unfortunately, after the one hard sprint-wrecking 90-degree turn - still in the 18:00 range.

I finished with an 18:40 (which means I averaged 5:57 for the second and third miles - nice!), only five seconds off of last year's result, but with this year's stiff competition, I placed 15th.  Still, of the 38 dudes in my new age group of 40-44, I placed Numero Uno and that makes me feel extra good about the work I put into it (not to mention the comfy, warm winter hat I received as a prize!).  Plus, 13th out of 341 total males and 15th out of more than 700 is something of which I am certainly proud. 

This race has everything I like in a 5K - a great course, a friendly vibe (great for families, by the way, with lots of kids' activities), wonderful people, excellent organization, and plenty of post-race bagels, bananas and hot chocolate.  And it is at a perfect time of year to recharge after an October or November marathon.  I may very well do it again next year.

Full results: www.compuscore.com/cs2014/novdec/caldrein.htm

Summers of 1994, 2004 and 2014

They sound like a band on a mission, crossing the country with a new album in tow and a sense of purpose. They hit the new songs hard, and long before the tour even ends the new tunes are instant classics - jam vehicles that soar, pop numbers that swing, funk that shakes. Everyone leaves the shows feeling good about what they experienced, and the hardcore fans are excited to hear what comes next. 

That description applies equally to Phish in the summers of 1994 and 2014. 

Of course, in 1994 they played a heck of a lot more shows. They were in the process of conquering the country, making sure every college kid got a taste of this new thing they were offering. Summer tour that year was an extension of the spring tour, as they promoted 'Hoist' while perfecting and stretching the songs of the first Phish decade. I defy you to find one "Tweezer" that was not phenomenal; a "David Bowie" that did not destroy everyone by the time of its frenzied ending; or a "You Enjoy Myself" that did not serve its multiple purposes of booty-shaking, nirvana-reaching and vocal weirdness. 

While each show was stunning in its own right, there is an amazing arc that can be heard when listening to all of it straight through. The band is still improving and the audience is still learning what these guys are all about. Audiences were being encouraged to follow along on these strange musical journeys - the Gamehendge story was told in its entirety for the last two times. Musical teases and references were being carried over from one show to the next. A connection developed between band and audience, linking show to show. 

The jams were wild and experimental, the solos were raging and peaking, the bluegrass was fast and energetic. However, Phish had not quite learned how to reach the depths of dirty funk yet. A friend of mine once differentiated music that sounded vertical vs. horizontal. I can not explain it, but I totally got it. Phish was very vertical at the time; it would be a few years before they got horizontal. 

Twenty years later, Phish has lost the youthful energy that sent every "Split Open and Melt" wailing into the stratosphere, made every "Run Like an Antelope" a thorough workout, and made every "Sparkle" end with such frenetic speed that it was difficult to even find the downbeat. But experience, patience and practice has breathed new life into the oldest songs and given the new tracks the meat on which to gnaw. 

"Everybody gets a 'Fuego'" was a meme on Twitter as Phish broke its old rule about playing any songs two nights in a row. And why not? "Fuego" is such a fantastic new song that to deprive a one-show venue of it just because it was played at the previous one is ridiculous. 

Phish made its own rules and broke them as summer 2014 got underway. It continued the no-cover-songs edict that began when they broke that other rule last Halloween about covering another artist's album. Then the band broke that rule, too, as covers started creeping back in. 30 years into their career together, these four guys still know how to keep us guessing. 

While "Tweezer" took a backseat as the major powerhouse, other classics like "Chalk Dust Torture" and "Bathtub Gin" kept the jam juices flowing. Elsewhere, the funk of "Sand", the bright positivity of "Light", and the accelerating tension of "Piper" provided forums for the kinds of improvisation that could not have been achieved 20 years ago. The 1994 Phish certainly did not have the greasy groove of "555" or effortlessly silly syncopation of "Wombat". 

Plus, what Phish lacked in amount of shows this summer, it made up for in length of each. The average 1994 show was around two and a half hours. The average 2014 show exceeded three, with one show in Maryland (the wackiest show of the tour, with crazy song segues and a hilarious Jon Fishman vocal/vacuum turn) clocking in at three and a half. I can run a marathon to that show. 

And then there is the summer of 2004. Coming halfway between a summer of growth and a summer of rebirth, it was a summer of finality. The announcement came in May that the June and August shows would be the last. My tour buddy for the first leg, Jesse Jarnow, said at the time that he wanted it to be like a Viking funeral. 

At first, I thought he might have gotten his wish for a two month ending that sent the whole thing off in a glorious blaze. The first few shows were surprisingly good, with killer jams, tight execution and a surprise visit from Jay-Z. But the ship started sinking prematurely when it became obvious that Trey Anastasio had such a hard time playing the parts he had written. 

The plus side was that for every flubbed composed part, there was a jam around the corner that went places the band had never gone before and would only occasionally visit since. Every jam was long and weird. It was not unusual for a set to have only five or six songs, for jams to go on for 20 minutes. For that alone, 2004 holds a special place for me. 

Still, the final weekend in Coventry was a mess. I shudder to think of the difficulties getting there - sitting still on a highway for 36 hours, waiting for something to happen; getting out and walking when they said the mud was too thick to let any more cars in; being driven closer to the venue by locals for five bucks. And I cringe when I listen to how poorly almost every song was played (though there were some good bits). Instead of a fantastical, fiery send-off, it all landed with a thud. 

The "4" summers are all important parts of the 30-year Phish story. 1994 saw the band reaching new heights in an arc that would continue for another five years. 2004 brought the band's second era to a disappointing and confusing close. And 2014 echoed 1994 as the trajectory of musical growth that began anew five years ago continues to rocket skyward.

Prelude to the TCS New York City Marathon

I said I would never do it. I could not understand why people would want to go through the expensive, logistical hassle of showing up at 6 a.m. on a November morning, waiting four hours to run with 45,000 other people through the streets of New York City. It did not make sense to me.

I did not get it.

The morning was cold and windy. I dressed as if it was winter, bundled up with old sweaters, gloves and a scarf that I would discard when the race was underway. The other folks in Montclair, dressed only in their race clothes, looked at me like I was a weirdo as we piled onto the buses and shared in the bagel breakfast provided for us by the Essex County Running Club.

But once we got to Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island, bundling up turned out to be the wisest move. Thousands of people waited to be called to their corrals on the Verrazano Bridge as the minutes ticked slowly by; some shivering, others huddled for warmth, some (like me) wrapped up in as much material as possible.

At that point, I began my video chronicle of the day's events, which I am in the process of putting together to present to you, so I will say no more...

...except this:

I totally get it now.

The real reason for the pre-race jitters

If there was any doubt before, this removes it. The real reason for my pre-race jitters has nothing to do with the actual running and everything to do with logistics.

The NYC Marathon is, of course, spectacularly organized. But it is still 50,000 people and that means the entire morning leading up to the race is one giant pain in the ass. 

Consider that I live about 30 miles from the start line but I have to leave five hours before my 9:40 start. Or that I'll be in a muddy field (thanks to all that rain yesterday) in cold wind for at least two of those hours. Or that I can only bring certain approved items to said field. Hours of pure discomfort before running 26.2 miles is nobody's idea of a good time. 

And so, I lie awake worrying about that stuff.

As for the actual running, things were looking up for a while. After a couple of tough weeks of slow, worn out running, something clicked and I suddenly felt like me again. On my short runs, I hit my first sub-seven miles since the marathon and all were negative splits. 

My 18 miler on felt so good that I ran an extra mile at the end and still managed to negative split it, too. Granted, it was a 7:59 average pace, but at least I knew I can go the distance again.

But last week was back to the doldrums. My legs felt like lead in the short runs and my painstakingly slow 21-miler along the Patriots Path in Morris County averaged more than nine minutes per mile. 

The rest of the week consisted of three slow three-milers. It is anyone's guess what I will manage to muster today in New York City. 

And really, I do not care. At this point I want to just get to the starting line without falling apart.

Things are not going as well as hoped

Sunday was a beautiful day with mild autumn weather. Perfect day for a long run. The plan: 16 miles on an out-and-back chunk of the Lenape Trail from the end of the rail trail in Verona to Brookdale Park in Bloomfield.

I had previously run this section in the opposite direction, for which most of the trail was well-marked (with the exception of the left turn on Alexander Avenue in Montclair).  The eastbound direction was not as clearly blazed.

Once off the rail trail and heading uphill to Cedar Grove, I lost the trail for a bit, but knew that Ridge Road was dead ahead, so I kept moving onward until I got there. After a short stint on Ridge, the trail hooks through the woods past the reservoir as it continues uphill into Montclair.  For a moment, when there were no yellow blazes in sight and it was a lot harder to figure out where to go. While searching for some yellow, my leg got wrapped up in a downed branch which took me down, lacerating my leg in the process.

I felt the blood trickling down, but refused to look at it.  This was only the fourth mile and I was not going to get psyched out by the sight of a large wound with 12 miles to go.

Finally catching sight of a bit of yellow, I accidentally followed it to a link trail which used yellow with a black dot in the middle for its blazes.  I did not notice the black dots initially, so I ended up at a trailhead in an unfamiliar spot.  Thankfully, there was a map nearby and I got back on the main trail.

By the time of the turnaround in Brookdale Park, I was losing it. Low-8 miles became high-8 miles.  Then 9s, finishing the run (back through those thick woods) with painful 10s and 11s.

If I am going to run NYC in a few weeks, I need to plan on a slow, slow race.  But then, was that not the point when I first was offered the chance to do it?

No pressure, Daniel.  Keep reminding yourself.  No pressure.