I guess I’m saying that running and the ability to run effectively can make you think time is of no great importance. That age and its effects have no power here.

But these roller coasters, these glorious wooden and steel beasts I once rode multiple times in a row without any hesitation had at some point become too much for me. Those kids and their rock and roll music, etc., etc.

Anyway, I don’t see this experince as a negative–more as reverence observed. Time is so ephemeral, yet so inescapable. Then again, maybe they’re just making those things bigger and meaner these days. And that’s why I closed my eyes soup-to-nuts for five of the six coasters I rode.

Age is good, according to a recent New York Times article, stress reaches its lowest point at age 85. That’s when happiness peaks, too. Maybe that’s why the chocolate tastes better than it did 25 years ago. Thank you for the life lesson, Hershey. That funnel cake wasn’t bad either.

Actually, turning 35 wasn’t a big deal–just like 30 wasn’t a big deal. But I have started to notice a thing or eight that didn’t seem to be “issues” before.

Case in point: my last family vacation. We took a trip to Hershey. And we did it like the high rollers we aren’t. We stayed in the famed Hershey Hotel–it took me a week or so to stop giggling when I read those words, too. Sneaking a poop joke past me is a tall order. But I had no option but to put aside my puerile observational humor as soon as we hit the lobby–just, wow. Simple, elegant, and chocolaty.

I hit the awesome gym, with its monogrammed towels and premium cable at every tredmill and elliptical machine. And my pace was pretty kick ass–rarefied air and all that I guess. So my 35 years weren’t a bother as far as my speed was concerned.

I was rather pleased with myself. I even thought I’d give the roller coasters at Hershey Park a go after my son conked out. Well, I was about 12 seconds into my first ride when Father Time sucker punched me.

To be continued…

The medicinal quality of the fruit comes from powerful antioxidants called anthocyanins that have anti-inflammatory properties that can help protect muscles and joints even before an athlete hits the pavement, thereby reducing post-exercise pain.

A study done at Oregon Health and Science University revealed runners who drank cherry juice twice a day for seven days prior to and on the day of a long-distance relay had significantly less muscle pain following the race than those who drank another fruit juice beverage.

So, this is all well and good, but something about cherries feels too feminine; you know? I understand not every cherry is a Maraschino, but still, why couldn’t baked potatoes be the next big thing in runner’s health? Studies show buttery spuds increase kidney function and promote weight loss resulting in a faster recovery rate. That’s what I want to read.

But berries seem to be where it’s at these days. I personally eat three tons of blueberries a week, and I may look like Veruca Salt, but I’ve never felt better. Here’s a few more berry benefits from Runner’s World:

Pain management and the ability to maximize muscle recovery starts before you even put on your shoes. I recommend tart cherry juice to my athletes because it is a natural, anti-inflammatory option that provides additional nutrition value such as antioxidants and carbohydrates.

You’re going to need to take it easy for four to six weeks.

“So no running at all?” you ask, as man tears well up in your eyes. Those are vaporous droplets of moisture consisting of raw hide and Old Spice, in case you were wondering.

Then he adds: “No strenuous physical activity involving leg work at all.”

“Daaaaaaammmmmmmmnnnnnn!” you scream internally (I hope I screamed that internally, anyway).

So now the withdrawals begin. The first day’s a real doozy. You’re depressed, short-tempered, and despondent. You don’t see this as a much-needed break from the rigors of daily extended cardio. You see it as rehab a la Dr. Drew Pinsky’s hour-long MTV depravity sketches.

Those not in-the-know, typically aren’t aware running does more than make you svelte: It gets you high. A good long run can keep you fuzzy (in a good way) for hours… It’s addictive.

And hearing a doctor tell you you can’t get your fix, is like… well I already provided that analogy.

However, after the first few days of moping around in the ugly world of calorie restriction (another reason runners run), you realize it’s doable.

You see a physical therapist, he gives you some possible explanations for your injuries (IT band, runner’s knee, blah, blah, blah) one of which is the expensive insoles you bought at REI. We’ll talk about those torture devices at a later date. And you start a regimented, hourly, stretching routine…

I’ll keep you posted.

I’ve been out of commission for the past month or so. Here’s how the proverbial shiz went down. I was in a hurry one morning, and I tried to squeeze in a quick run before going to work. I must have taken those first couple of miles too fast, because by mile five I was breaking down. A new kind of pain dug its teeth into my knee and wouldn’t let go. I had to do that weird looking one-stiff-leg-run walk thing. Not very cool looking.

I didn’t let it bother me at first. I just stretched a bit when I got home — probably not a good idea — and went about my day… The pain got worse at work. It radiated outward from an area just south of the back of knee like a reactor meltdown. Chernobyl was happening in my leg. Stairs were the worst.

Fast forward three days. I’d made a few more ill-fated running attempts, each one more excruciating than the previous. I decided to do the unthinkable: rest for a few days.

That didn’t work either.

After whining to my wife about it for a week or so, medical advice seemed the obvious next step. I saw a nurse practitioner. She recommended an MRI.

If you’ve never had one, let me break it down for you: big cold sterile room, intimidating beige barrel with a digital display on the front, earplugs, and positively no reading material.

It’s like lying under a train for 60 minutes. Loud arrhythmic noises for an extended period of time. And the guy operating the thing is in a different room talking to you from behind a glass partition through a Hardee’s Intercom — which makes you feel real safe.

Anyway, an hour or so after crawling into that infernal contraption, I left the hospital with a CD-ROM and no instructions from anyone on what to do next.

I took it back to the nurse practitioner’s office. She wasn’t there of course.

Long story short, the torn ligament in my leg healed after an extended period of rest, and I was able to start running again.

I’d like to think I’ve learned something from this experience, but I can’t say I have. Other than I’m not fond of MRIs. Once again, I ignored the virtues that get most people through this kind of predicament (patience being one) and wound up grumpy. Wait a minute; is that learning?

But alas, I’m happy again. Don’t let my complaining fool you. I’m thrilled to be back out there.

Our Running Breaks, cater for all levels of runner, although the majority of guests are Marathon Runners training for London, Paris or Berlin. Set on the warm Costa Blanca in Spain, one of the most beautiful coast lines of Europe, on the Mediterranean.

Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?

By Sunday, moon running’s going to be occupying my imagination.

My son so enjoyed saying, “Ty, wait!” that he’s continued the practice–often at inopportune times, like when I answer the phone. I say hello and he says “Ty, wait!” in the background. Weird.

What I’m getting to, I guess, is the earphone thing. I know they’re dangerous. They obviously impair you, but man… they sure can smooth the edges out of long run. Let’s face it, after you’ve been running for a few years, the daunting part isn’t necessarily the mileage or the fatigue. It’s the boredom.

My hat’s off to those runners who can just get into it without their iPods– and just listen to the birds chirping. But it’s not just the birds chirping, is it? It’s the sirens, the jack hammers, the barking dogs, and the leaf blowers, too.

Banning headphones from organized races is a fairly pervasive practice, and lots of folks abide by these new rules. But no one’s going to arrest you if you don’t — or even disqualify you for that matter. And more and more runners are wising up.

It’s idiocy of course to defend sensory deprivation in a practice that so depends on having your wits about you, but somebody needs to stand up for the audiophiles (blogger knocks on wood).

Here’s a few races that’ll do more than look the other way; they actually pride themselves in their no “no headphone” policy.

* Austin Marathon
* Big-D Texas Marathon
* Dallas White Rock Marathon
* Des Moines Marathon
* Green Bay Marathon
* Lake Tahoe Marathon
* Mayor’s Midnight Sun Marathon (Anchorage)
* Melbourne and Beaches Marathon (Florida)
* Miami Marathon
* OC Marathon (California)
* Portland, Marathon (Oregon)
* Richmond Marathon
* San Francisco Marathon
* Surf City Marathon (Huntington Beach, California)
* Tucson Marathon

I know I’m not alone on this one. I think we’re all capable of complex problem solving and creative epiphany. I just need to know how Jonas Salk, Issac Newton, Christopher Guest, and Umberto Eco managed to get pen to paper before those ideas of theirs snuck off — to the soft, fuzzy, inaccessible parts of their brains.

I’m convinced there’s another me –a brilliant, creative auteur, who only makes his presence known during that cardio induced zone of clarity I fall in somewhere between the fourth and fifth mile. I’m pretty sure he perfected the lithium-ion car battery a couple of weeks ago, then I took over in the shower, and well… The amazing idea was gone. Is he cooler than me? I’m sure he’s smarter. There’s a lot to be jealous of. But I envy him most for his uncanny ability to access that elusive, ever-expanding grocery list and things-to-do compendium that consistently escapes me.

Obviously the problem lies in our paychecks. No one pays us to design the perfect remote control or the next big T-shirt. We can’t all be the Fido Dido guy. Sorry — obscure Dennis Milleresque reference. I guess what I’m saying is: Where’s the motivation to remember these ideas (if they are in fact brilliant)?

They could be just as mundane as the rest of my thoughts, and I’m too hopped up on endorphins when I’m running to see the similarities. Nahhhh, they’re earth shakingly good: I’m certain of it. Back to my theory.

There are too many things going on in any given 24-hour period to focus on innovative thought. Any of the following can stop an epiphany like the iPhone or spray tanning dead in its tracks: work, daycare, dishes, personal hygiene, car repair… Did I mention dishes? Unless you’re getting paid to think creatively, you’re not going to act on your ideas.

My Dad carries around a pen and series of running lists — little index cards and old receipts spilling out of his shirt pocket. I’ve never thought to ask him if he has the same problem I do with ephemeral conceptions. Hopefully, he’ll read this and give me an answer, because the thought of asking him is already sashaying off to that soft, fuzzy, inaccessible part of my brain.

Maybe I’ll start running with a Dictaphone.

It’s kind of like making a movie about Mountain Dew or Trident. I understand the ins and outs of multi-tiered advertising campaigns and media saturation. I also understand this is a biopic. But it feels like the lead in this film should be a character named, Facebook.

He’d go around making friend suggestions, weighing in on status updates, and tricking you into looking at him when you’re supposed to be working.

Then, out of nowhere, things go wonky. A crime is committed. And you know who we’re supposed to think is behind it: that shifty Twitter fellow. But the offender turns out to be… dunh, dunh, dunh… Youtube.

Thank you for indulging me.

Jesse Eisenberg, the star of “Zombieland,” helms what I’m betting will be a serious snooze fest. I have it on good authority that Mark Zuckerberg is nothing if not completely bland. Meaning, my friend’s friends said they met him at a party in LA and he is not sexy. I have a feeling the film’s writers and director would have you believe otherwise.

Kenyan flag

Here’s a headline from a Chicago news source:
“Kenyan man, Russian woman win Chicago Marathon titles”
Here’s another from a Boston paper:
“Kenyan, Russian Post Fastest Times at Boston Marathon”
And another:
“Kenyan wins White Rock Marathon; Russian runner wins women’s race”

Kyrgyzstani flag

Soooo… Nature or nurture?

Here’s one blogger’s take:

Many believe this is because of the high altitude at which Kenyans and Ethiopians train, although these countries also have a robust running culture as well as highly trained regimes … Additionally, the fact that so many Kenyans and Ethiopians have witnessed their fellow citizens travel overseas and win thousands of dollars in marathon money has been a further encouragement to rigorously train in order to become the best at marathon running. This has led domestic competition to drastic levels in order to determine who is the best to compete internationally.

As for the Russian women. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the Soviet legacy of athleticism is alive and well, and distance running has replaced hockey and Greco-Roman wrestling. I’ll think on it and let you know.