Born to Run + ENFL

Guys, I cried a little bit yesterday.

No, I didn't try and cut a glass bottle with my teeth. I did try the Jedi mind trick though...I figure it can't hurt, right...actually, I think I try that on something almost everyday. I digress. The truth is, I cried because I finally finished the book, "Born to Run," by Christopher McDougall.

I've heard the hype for two+ years and just now read the book. I think I mentioned in a previous blog that I'd actually used many of the theories from the book (passed on to me by fellow runners) to change my running life for the better. The story behind it, however is worth every bit as much as the facts found amidst it.

You know why I cried? It can be summed up in four words:

East Nasty For Life.

I don't want to risk butchering McDougall's story at all, so this will be quite cryptic, but his story reminded me of why I love East Nasty AND Running.

Last weekend, I ran with my friend Julie, and somehow we got onto the subject of struggling through long races. The surprising thing is this...it never ends badly. Whether it's a close friend, or a random weirdo you've never met, somebody is always there to pick you up when you fall, or encourage you through it when you think all hope is lost. ALWAYS.

Julie actually coaxed me through the disaster that became my first marathon attempt, which involved agonizing side stitches, an IT band lock-up on my right knee, and a thunderstorm which made them call the race before I had the chance to finish. That day I was pulled off the course at 20.5 miles on a 26.2 mile course.

That's why McDougall's account and reference to the community that running provides brought tears to my eyes...because I've been basking in that beauty for almost three years now, if my memory serves me correctly. It's changed my life, and quite possibly saved it.

So last night, in honor of this great book and Running in general, I broke out my Vibram fivefingers and did my normal Monday night 6-miler...I'd forgotten how good the earth feels when your bare feet (almost bare in this case) meet it. Then I swung by Kroger to pick up some pinto beans, corn tortillas and some cilantro to enjoy a Rarámuri-style recovery meal.

If you don't run, I hope you find yourself doing it someday. I hope you can find a group like East Nasty has been to me. If you do run, I hope you get frequent reminders of how good we have it. If you haven't read the book, you're doing yourself a true disservice, and perhaps those around you as well.

I believe it firmly. We are born to run.

How about some brass tacks?!?

All right tricks...

Enough of all this, "oh, I've been gone so long, what do I write???" crap.

Today, I'm taking a belated snow day.

I've had the good pleasure of meeting a guy through East Nasty by the name of Cheyenne. He and I have struck up a fun friendship right from the off because he's one of the few people I know here in Nashville with an affinity for all things ghetto. Oddly enough, on Sunday at our post-run brunch, after discussing good hip hop, R&B, football and running, we found ourselves discussing (of all things) books.

Now, picture this: Cheyenne and I are isolated off in the corner of this house full of runner-types. I'm wearing my infamous, larger-than-life yellow fleece sweats, a hoodie, and my hat cocked to about 1 o'clock. Cheyenne's in b-ball type shorts, a t-shirt and rocking his ice-stud earrings (I may or may not have a similar set).

I guarantee you that none of my friends at brunch who saw us would have guessed in a million years that the two ghetto kids in the corner were on the topic of literature. Chey and I had quite a few riveting discussions, not the least of which was a debate regarding reading fiction vs. non-fiction books. I'll spare you the details, but by the end of our debate, I'd convinced Chey to read "Call of the Wild" by Jack London, and I was headed straight home to find a non-fiction book to read.

When I got home, I called Rodimus Prime Jones for a suggestion on a good/enticing non-fiction book to read, and he suggested "Devil in the White City." The official classification of my attention span is: "Distracted," so I have a tough time reading books that don't have intriguing stories and knew Rod would have a good suggestion. I was about to run out to snag a copy when I realized that I had a perfectly good non-fiction candidate sitting on my kitchen table.

For years now, I've heard about "Born to Run." Having heard the lessons learned from it recounted to me by my friends many times, I never felt the need to read it. In fact, a year ago, I actually completely changed the way I run altogether as a result of this book that I'd never even opened. As it turns out, I really love running, and this book is not only about that but is rumored to be quite non-fictionally plot-driven. My older sister, Gretchen, who is somewhat new to running (and yet has already completed her first 1/2 marathon with another on the books) lent me this book a few months back after she finished it. It seemed like a no-brainer, so I dove in and am quite glad I did. I'm about 60 pages in and am contemplating a trip to Mexico ASAP. Perhaps I should finish the book before I do anything rash.

Hasta entonces - ¡Que corran bien amigos!

Amok in the Muck

Yesterday morning, I had what they call "frostnip," if not a very mild case of "frostbite" on some of my fingers.

The East Nasties, my group of running peoples (and oh so much more) had their third Sunday morning training run for the Country Music 1/2 marathon yesterday morning. I wouldn't say that the weather has been uncooperative for our runs lately, but it has certainly made for interesting running conditions, to say the least.

The first two of these runs were unseasonably cold for Nashville, TN - about 15-17°F - cold enough, in fact, that the moisture from my breath froze into "beard-cicles." (I've included a picture of myself and my buddy Hunter...his sideburn-cicle's pretty amazing) Well, true to form for 2010 so far, yesterday's conditions were no exception. Let me set the scene:

The first few runs of our training are done in the luxurious land of Shelby Bottoms park in East Nashville, which is a protected area of natural wetlands. The temperature has just recently risen above freezing and we've had rain for the last couple of days. This makes for standing water on the paved trails, and grass/unpaved trails that are completely submerged underwater. The temperature was about 45°F and it was raining when we ran yesterday.

Shelby Bottoms has a great greenway that connects to other greenway networks...one could literally run for miles and hours. I spent the first 7 miles running with my friend Julie on the more civilized parts of the greenway, but on our return voyage, my adventurism got the best of me and "the wild" called. I bid Julie farewell and disappeared into the nastiest trail I know of in Shelby...it did not disappoint. I ran most of the next 3.5 miles in ankle-deep to calf-deep 40°F water (no exaggeration), plotting the wettest return route I could think of, and it was simply EXHILARATING!

It was so fun that I actually ran that part faster than the greenway part. It was so fun that I miscalculated my time and ended up running 90 minutes instead of 80...10.5 miles. When I finally emerged from the wilderness back into the mundane and stopped running, I realized that I quite literally couldn't move my hands. A 45°F-run isn't normally cold enough to freeze my digits, so I neglected my gloves. I hadn't accounted, however, for the cold rain and the icy swamp water I was bounding through.

My heat doesn't work in my car right now, but getting all of my wet clothing off REALLY helped. It's very difficult to untie your shoes, however, when you can't move/feel your fingers. That was the only bad part...I was helpless, irrational, freezing and very frustrated because I couldn't get those blasted shoes off and thus, was stuck in my wet shorts for a time. It took some time, some DEEP breaths, and a lot of focus, but I eventually got them off.

My hands went through the painful thawing process: warming up, burning, extremely sensitive, etc. After 25 minutes or so, the temperature had risen in them, but to my surprise I still could not feel my thumbs, index or middle fingers, and the color wasn't returning to them...I began to get a little worried. Thankfully after about 45 minutes (and oddly instantaneously), I regained feeling in them (perhaps by some magic in the Cracker Barrel coffee), but they definitely gave me a pretty good scare. Wowsers.

Anyway, I wanted to remember this, so I blogged about it. For some reason, I still don't feel quite right calling myself a "runner." I'm more comfortable calling myself a guy who runs. But I do feel that a run like this may be enough to earn me the title, "runner," or maybe "idiot."

Adventures to you on this Monday.

Let's also DEFINITELY take a moment to ponder the life of one of the greatest human beings to ever walk this earth...Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

TONGUE?!?

I'm a big believer in heuristics. This life is very complex, and we have such a short time to experience as much of it as possible. What we can't afford is to go back and double-check things that we have already proven to be true or false.

A simple heuristic example: At one point, I touched a hot stove. I now know that I don't ever have another reason to touch a hot stove. There is quite simply nothing to be gained from that experience.

A more complex example: If I am drilling through a tough piece of wood, when I pull the drill out, the bit is going to be hot. After some premature grabs, I now know that it takes about 30-60 seconds for the bit to cool off. I know to either play hot potato if I'm in a hurry or to use the next minute on another piece of the project till the bit is cooled off.

Makes sense, right?

All that to say that I'm a creature of habit in a lot of areas so that I'm free to be spontaneous in others.

I've developed a rather predictable schedule on Wednesday nights.

I run with the East Nasties at 6, and when we get done, we go down to the Three Crow Bar to enjoy a beer or two and have conversation that isn't perforated by heavy breathing and/or covered in sweat. (for those of you thinking about beer after running with incredulity, it's actually quite nice, and it's a good proven way to replenish nutrients after a hard run.)

The bartender girls there are so used to me ordering the same old Yuengling Lager every week that they're often handing me my beer before I've had a chance to ask for it. Even if I wanted something different, I'd gladly take the Yuengling because: A) it's awesome, and B) because being recognized by name and face as a regular is an honor that should put a smile on anybody's face.

Anyway, after I make my rounds and talk to all my running buddies, it's time for dinner. Dinner at 10pm is tough unless you live in Spain where that's the norm. I've heard it recommended that one shouldn't eat after 8pm, and I usually try to stick to that. That being said, if one must eat at 10pm, it probably shouldn't be anything heavy, which rules out about 95% of the restaurants open at that point, even in a good-sized city like Nashville.

Solution: The authentic (Nolensville Rd.) taco stand. You Nashvillians know of what I speak. Three tacos with a small side of veggies for $3!!! And man are they ever good.

Anyway, this is a new Wednesday night tradition for me, but seeing as I'm about a head or more taller than the majority of Latinos and dressed in my running clothes, I stick out a bit at the Taco stand. My favorite one is at the corner of Harrison and Nolensville at the Citgo Station. The food is great, and the people are very nice.

As usual, I ordered my three chicken tacos and then got into a conversation with one of the guys there. We shot the breeze mostly in Spanish, and then this transpired:

"Have you ever tried any of the other meats here?"
"No, what type would you recommend?"
Accompanied by a silly, but certainly not malicious grin, he said, "TONGUE!"
To myself, "How did I know he was going to say that???"
(Exit 'Regularly-Scheduled-Programming,' enter 'Spontaneity.')

Well, I explained to him that most Americans find that particular meat to be a bit gross, but I let him talk me into sampling all the meats in the stand. Truth be told, they were all really good. The scariest ones were obviously tongue, and the other was cheek...scary, but still good.

Anyway, just nice to see one of my life theories in action working in my favor. Regimen in conjunction with Spontaneity.

I concluded the evening by eating my awesome tacos, taking a shower and going to bed. All in all, another great Wednesday night.