I'd Be a Good Runner if I Ran...Gordons, Roy Orbison, and AMC Hornets

Apparently Gordon's gin is not compatible with quality training. In short, it does NOT count as pre-run hydration. Of course I've known this for some time. Yet I still try and beat the odds...you know...find that ONE instance where Mr. Gordon doesn't actually impede in any way, performance. It never works. So I've come to the conclusion that I'd be a good runner if a) I didn't drink Gordons and b) ran with some degree of frequency...or at least I'd be a better runner. Maybe I should design an experiment. I can assure you, there would be no problems in this experiment for the subject...i.e. me...to fail to take the treatment. It's the control group I worry about. By March 6, I'll have more data (Mar. 6 is date of the Napa Valley Marathon).

But I digress.

Today's run: planned 20+ miles. Motivation level: not-so-high. Weather: drizzly, upper 40s/low 50s, gray, concrete-colored skies. Terrain: F*ck...it's Davis: FLAAAAAAAAAAT. So basically, I walked out of my house, turned right and just started going. As I noted previously, my Garmin CrapMaster 305 no longer recognizes the existence of global positioning, so I must run by dead reckoning...that is, judge distance by just time. Distance is then evaluated by plotting route (manually) into Google Earth. Since there will be error in the self-plotting, the absolute distance is uncertain. I surmise I ran somewhere between 20.9 and 21.3 miles. I'll just call it 21.

Mind you, this was more like an interval workout. Run some. Stop. Take GU. Run some more. Stop. Take GU. Rinse and repeat. Also, my lower back was locking up so I had to stop and stretch just to keep going. Total running time was 2:39:19, which translates to about 7:35 minutes-per-mile. That's a passable time conditional on the veracity of the statements made in paragraph 1 from above.

On a long run like this, you'd think you might see something or encounter something worth remarking on. You know, a pretty scene or a deaf jack rabbit or some graffito of interest. Not today. Boring Boring. Boring. There is a caveat here. When I run, I wear glasses...no...I wear SUN glasses. Always. It doesn't matter the time. When I did intervals with the Interloopers in Tucson in the mid-2000s, I'd wear sunglasses at 4:55 AM. I wear them in the gloom. In the sun. In the dark. So on a gray day, the dark shades impede the sighting of interesting things. Moreover, the drizzly, damp weather creates a condition I call "low class wiper blades." The name stems from an experience I had once in a car driven by a ne'r-do-well from Missouri who had a derelict vehicle (AMC Hornet, I believe). While driving southbound on MO State Highway 291 (yes I remember...it was like 1982), an incredibly violent thunder storm engaged us. The driver remarked (something to the effect) "oh the wipers don't work" in response to my natural question: "You gonna turn the wipers on?" So here we are, pitch black, heading south, unable to see beyond the globlets of rain pulverizing the car (The jpg of the Hornet in this post is approximate...memory has it the car was a bit *rustier*) and me? I'm sure my time has come...and then?...the driver reaches blindly to the back seat, grabs what appears to be a towel, rolls down the window, stretches his body outside the window and ... I kid you not... begins wiping the windshield. Imagine the scene: car weaving because to get *proper coverage* of the wiping, he's half way hanging out the window, one hand steering the car, right side of his ass airborn to get the extension necessary for the window wiping, foot on accelerator alternating between no pressure and and FULL THROTTLE. Me? Pummeled by wind and rain as if Hurricane Hazel has found its way inside the Hornet. The wiping? Let's just say the wiping of my OWN ass after this hell ride was more productive than my friend's use of the towel on the wiping of his windshield.

But I digress...sort of.

So when I reference "low class wiper blades" it verily conveys the problem: in fog, drizzle, rain, humidity, or worse, I very quickly am unable to see. So intermittently, I must stick my finger between my eyes and the lens and "wipe". It works. For about 30 seconds. The bottom line is this: most of the time I actually cannot see anything during a run.

So today, here I am. Sunglasses and low-class wiper blades. It's like Roy Orbison chuffing along in the said AMC Hornet. I would have said Lou Reed (sunglasses reference) ... but body mass index suggests Roy is a better reference.

Nevertheless, the day is done. The run is in the books. It has been a good day from start until now (and I'm sure it'll finish nicely). 21 miles. 7:35 pace. I'll take it. I have some concerns about the marathon itself...but I'll bore you with that stuff later.

Best,

Brad