Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Learning to Rest

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

I'm on the couch in my apartment. I've been spending a lot of time there lately. And not just because I've moved out of my bedroom to be closer to the window unit. It's Thursday and I haven't run since last Saturday.

I needed a break.

I didn't want this break. But I needed it. It was difficult yesterday. The alarm went off at early o'clock and I had to stay in bed. I knew this would be the only way. In theory I could have just not set the alarm, but I didn't have the strength in the evening. I knew the only way to not run was to make the choice in the morning. It is much easier to stay in bed when you are already in bed.

2016 training miles complete with terrifying slowing trend.
I needed this break. My body feels tired and a bit worn. I think I am running too much for my body. I am not giving it enough time to recover and build itself back. I'm not running that much, just too much for my body. Or at least that is the theory. But I think it is backed up by evidence. The data are in the charts. I'm getting slower.

Three years of miles - and the trend line is still increasing!
At the last Fred's Team run I mentioned my slowing to one of the coaches. He recommended I take some time off. It made sense to me. My first year of running I took a week off (or maybe two) due to a foot injury. When I returned to running I felt as if I was giving the same effort. In fact I went out intending to do a very easy run to ease my foot back into the punishing pounding that is running. But when I finished I looked at the time and realized I had run much faster than I had up to that point. Maybe it was a fluke, but my pace improved with a bit of rest and recovery. I hope this will prove true again.
I like charts.
This break was hard because August could have had my biggest month yet. I enjoy keeping track of all my data and I really enjoy watching the miles pile up. And I wanted this month to be the biggest yet. But that is a stupid way to run a marathon. I took this break in hopes that I can have a faster time at the marathon. That is the point after all. But it still hurt giving up the miles.

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Hill training

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!



Mile 11-16 are uphill, strongly uphill. Really strongly. Water bottle is low. No opportunity for a refill until mile 19. Everything wants to stop. But I can't. The only option is distraction. Distracting one's self from tired legs, bursting lungs, and a thirsty mouth is an art form. It isn't easy. It takes practise and effort. Usually.

It is much easier when you keep passing very large scat, large and full of hair. These woods are full of lions. No need to slow down. No need to think about my lungs, or legs, or thirst. I just keep scanning the fog shrouded fields for eminent death.

This is not my normal Central Park run. This is Santa Cruz.
View from the Dorm. The city and ocean are below the fog.
I was out in the west for work. It was a conference complete with dorm room accommodations and a pass to the dining hall. Breakfast was served promptly at eight and more importantly, breakfast promptly stopped at nine. Not wanting to go hungry till lunch I set my alarm for Very Early. My schedule called for 19 miles. I mapped out a route. At dinner I swiped a bagel and snuck it past the zealous food police. Back in my room I reviewed the route, and once more, and turned out the light.

It turns out that the sun is different in Santa Cruz. It rises much later than in NYC. And yes, I had changed my clock the appropriate three hours. It was black outside the open window. The lucky kids in Santa Cruz don't need air-conditioning. They never have to try to sleep when the cool of the evening is in the upper 80s. Each night the temperature drops into the low 50s. As it turns out this means it was dark and cold outside the open window. And I had to get up and run.
Santa Cruz: end of the wharf, civil twilight.
I ate the stolen bagel, gulped as much water as I could, and headed out. I was on the road at five. There had been a couple of street lamps near the dorm. But on the road the university was rather stingy. Soon I was away from the buildings and under tall trees. I couldn't see the lines on the road. I couldn't see anything. I started to think about mountain lions.

When I arrived and was given the keys to the dorm I was also warned that losing them would cost me $140. In a moment of unrecognized genius I took off the miniature flashlight from my key chain and placed the two dorm keys on it. And there in the darkness I remembered it in a flash of inspiration. It took me a bit of time to fish it out of the tiny pocket in my shorts but I could again see the white line under my feet.

Astronomical twilight comes before nautical twilight and then civil twilight. From my experience astronomical twilight is a lot like pitch black darkness. Technically some of faintest celestial objects become harder to see as the night fades into astronomical twilight, but under the mountain lion trees there was no hint of brightness.

Still the flashlight wasn't needed for much longer. As I ran out from the trees I ran into the fog and the black turned into a dark, blinding, wet grey. The fog condensed on my beard and dripped into my lips. The wall of grey lit up into bright white as A car materialized in front of me. There was no sidewalk, barely any shoulder. I muttered repeatedly, "this is safe."

I ran down towards town past sleepy blocks and sleepier houses. I ran to the edge of town and out on the wharf. Between the gulls, seals, and the horn, it was a musical place. Back in the sunshine of yesterday I planned on taking my cell phone so that I could take a few pictures of the sunrise and the town. It was now just a few minutes before 6am. And while it was now civil twilight, and noticeably brighter, it was still dark and foggy. I snapped a couple of pictures and with the fear of missing breakfast in my tummy I ran on.
The lighthouse. The condensing fog makes for a soft focus.
I ran along a beautiful road that curved along the coast up towards the lighthouse. The road was flat and smooth and as the sky brightened and the fog thinned the view improved. All of the houses were on the right and the cliffs down to the ocean were on the left. In a few miles I reached the lighthouse. Built on a jutting curve of land, the light house is short and squat and home to the Santa Cruz Surfing museum. More importantly it also has a water fountain. I refilled my bottle, enjoyed another energy goo and continued to run.
Unfortunately I didn't have time to stop in.
At the 8 mile mark I refilled my bottle for the last time. As I left the little beach front state park I ran out of town and up Highway 1. I started looking for the trail that would take me up the mountain and back towards the campus. I didn't need to look very hard. I should have known any mountain ascent would start at the very bottom. The path quickly gave up all of the elevation I had gained since the wharf and even tunneled under the highway right where I started to climb the mountain. And climb I did.

The entire mountain climb averaged to about a 10% grade. But plenty of little bits were much steeper. I was digging into the hill. I was almost all on the balls of my feet. In seconds my lungs were bursting. In seconds my pace had soared. Suddenly I was really thirsty and tired. And then I past by a pile of recently deposited cat scat.
Cat Scat found in Russian Ridge.

Usually keeping your mind off of the exhaustion is difficult on a long run. But the fear of being hunted, attacked, and eaten alive has a way of worming into one's mind. I tried to think about running and my tired legs, But all I could remember was that mountain lions are most active at dawn and dusk. I couldn't forget that it was dawn now and that I was running through thousands acres of state forests and fields. I couldn't shake the idea that I was moving and breathing like a overweight and severely injured deer. I couldn't shake the idea that I would miss breakfast while being breakfast.

I made my plan. I would keep my eyes very open. I would see the attacking cat. The plan failed to fully firm up past that first step. But it was a first step. I had some vague ideas of trying to look big, fighting back with the keys in my little pocket, and simultaneously soiling myself. That, save for the last bit, was the helpful advice the sign at the entrance gave: "If attacked, fight back!"

I scanned the fields of dry grass and fog for hungry cats. I kept my eyes peeled. And then I looked up and saw four large deer immediately in front of me. And in their bored glance my plan went out the window. A few paces later I stirred up a covey of quail. At least they seemed just as startled as me.

My water bottle quickly ran low. And the climbing mountain of fields and fog kept growing. There were more and more trail branches than I had seen on the map. I kept choosing up. At this point my fear of being eaten my tired legs were locked in a dead heat for my attention. Near the top of the mountain I saw my first sun beams. And Then I stumbled out of the fog and onto the top of the hill. I drank the last of the water and joined the road down towards the university.
Perspective. Red: Chicago Marathon, Blue: NYC, Purple: Portland, Green: Santa Cruz run.
To reach mile 19 I would need to run down to the road that led back up to the dorm. But my empty water bottle, my watch, and my legs all persuasively argued that I should cut it short. So when I saw a trail leading to what must have been the campus I took it. And since I'm writing this you know I was right. In fact, I made it back in time for breakfast. It was just as delicious dorm food ever was.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Following Phantoms

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

I looked up and felt ridiculous. My short pilgrimage had come to an end. In the plain courtyard I sat on the bench. I hadn't come for the bench, though I knew that was all that would be there. I sat for a moment longer. And then I left to wander back down through the green and bright of the waking world.

I knew there would only be a bench. Still I was hoping to find something else. I had come for him, or some tangible memory, or something. I hadn't planned this pilgrimage well.

It started when I left my car at the station and boarded the train into the city. I rolled slowly past miles of tightly placed homes, small and expensive. I switched to the metro and began counting down the stops as we popped above and below ground. It was 15. I had never been to Berkeley. It is beautiful. I didn't realize it was the first school of the University of California system. Calling themselves "Cal" makes more sense.

The physics seniors of the class of 2016 dedicated a bench to Charles Townes in the small courtyard next to his office. The old tree which had stood from beyond memory fell last year after he died. And in the passing of two such monuments they decided to redesign the little space into a courtyard to honor him.


He told the story of the creation of the maser in his books and in person. And always he recounted sitting on the park bench in Washington D.C. next to the blooming azaleas. It was there he received his revelation. And it was there that the entire world changed.

Sitting on this bench 2500 miles away I knew I had come too late. Though, there wasn't much I could do about that. The simple reality was that I was born far too late. Still I had come and instead of an epiphany I just felt silly. I had wanted to feel a connection, some recognition of his spirit, something. But why? I didn't know Dr. Townes in any real meaning of the word.

While I had met him once, it was when I was very young, and at a funeral. Still, he was a bit of family lore and his name and story stuck with me. But for years he was only lore. Then in college I wrote him. I don't know who found his address, or what I even wrote him. But I still have the letter and papers he sent in reply to mine. Even now they number among my dearest possessions. In them he shared his thoughts and encouraged me to be a scientist and a religionist. He wrote in bullets.


A few years later I invited him to come lecture at Yale and he did! I remember the beer he ordered at Mory's before his talk. I remember his lecture. I remember as much as I can. And I had the entire drive back to JFK with just him. He called the lab at 6 am local time, 3am at the lab (because he knew they would be working). He was always going. And he was 92 at the time. We parted at the terminal. He was off to California and then Qatar. And that was it.

Through the years I watched the news knowing some day it would come. And it finally did. I walked to the corner and bought the paper. It is still yellowing in my desk. The greatest experimental physicist of the 20th century. Perhaps that is more truly when this weird and slow and poorly planned pilgrimage began.

It ended in a little courtyard with a view of his old office and a few dumpsters. I didn't find him there. I didn't find a connection, any meaning, or even some special memory. I just found a bench. This family myth turned exemplar hero was yet again far ahead. I had come too late and he had gone to where I can not yet go, born too late as I am. So I went a bought a coffee.




In writing this post I remembered a video of Charles Townes reading poetry and thought I'd link it here. His bit starts at 20:20 (with a short introduction) I highly recommend starting there. Oh to be such a Renaissance man!

Monday, August 15, 2016

Running uphill

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

*full post to come, this is just a teaser.

Mile 11-16 are uphill, strongly uphill. Really strongly. Water bottle is low. No opportunity for a refill until 19 miles. Distracting oneself is key. If one doesn't, one stops. Distracting one's self from their leg tiredness, desire to stop, their bursting lungs is an art form. It isn't easy. It takes practice and effort. Usually.

It is much easier when you keep passing very large scat, large and full of hair. These woods are full of lions. No need to slow down. No need to think about my lungs. Just keep scanning the fog shrouded fields for eminent death.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The Meeting

I'll bring you up to speed on my punishing run down and up the mountain soon. But for now see what we are enjoying - darkness at noon!

Oh power point. Hours and hours of power point.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

Santa Cruz

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

The flight went without incident. The sole grievance was that my seatmate passed enough gas for a return trip. Still it was smooth. Even the screaming infant slept until we started to descend. I caught In the Heart of the Sea and Hail Caesar. Neither were particularly good. I filled the remaining hour with episodes of Portlandia intermixed with staring at the flight information screen.

No one looks out windows any more. No windows are even open, presumably to maintain the viewing darkness. I would have enjoyed looking for mountains. So I satisfied myself with the rough map of the US and the little plane graphic that slowly updated our position. The windspeed, altitude and temperature were all reported. It is a rather odd thought (in the middle of a hot summer) to remember how thin the warm skin of air is. We were flying through ridiculous cold.

Our data last updated at we touched down. We were still supposedly 180+ feet above the service and cruising at a tortoise pace of 165 mph. And then the screen went blank.

A warm bus ride through traffic and mountains and now I am in my dorm room. I am hungry and there are still three hours till dinner. I walked to the cafe, but no one was there. It was open, but I couldn't find anyone to make me a sandwich. I may try the Mexican joint I heard about. I was told it was up "cardiac hill." Sounds promising.

All Back of the Bus

I'm headed to San Francisco and on to the Santa Cruz Developmental Biology Meeting.

Everyone seems more than a bit grumpy. The flight attendants are snappy, the passengers, after a ridiculous security line, an "issue with boarding," and an overbooked flight, are venomous, and the screaming infant in front of me seems to think she's being boiled alive in oil. Good morning!

Two years ago I made the same trip. I can't remember if there were any travel issues. All I remember is the great science, amazing weather, and Fantastic time playing in San Fran with M and J. I'm sure my memories of this trip will be the same.

But at the moment I'm all back of the bus, and not with the cool kids.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Popsicle Run

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

A busy stretch of days has kept me from the blog and many other things. Fortunately, I've kept running. Even last night.

Last night was hot. But it wasn't just the heat. It was also humid, but it wasn't just the humidity. The dew point was extremely high. The air felt like soup. New York Road Runners had a race, but they cancelled it. I hadn't been planning to run it, but it was terrifically hot and miserable - enough to be worried about one's safety - so I went for a run.

C ran with me and was caught in a brief explosion of rain that did nothing to ease the heat. Fortunately, I was still inside the lab listening to the thunder and changing into my shorts at the time.

I am used to sweating this summer. Between my under-adequate air conditioning unit, my record breaking broken AC subway car finding(50%), and the running, I'm usually pretty gross. Plus, this summer is much hotter than the last three. Oddly enough, my running times and temperatures (which I track) do not show this. I assume that this anomaly can be explained by my new 50 minute commute. I'm running even earlier in the morning adjusting temperatures down a degree or two.


Summer Temperatures


Anyway, C and I ran in the park. C will be running with me in Portland. He has already broken the 4 hour barrier. I don't doubt he'll do it again. Anyway, Again, we were running past all the race preparations and all of the volunteers taking down the race preparations. As we kept plugging we noticed more and more runners making off with food and popsicles. And finally when we reach what would have been the finish line we found the treasure. Boxes and boxes of popsicles, intended for the finishers were quickly coming to temperature and were being given away. Not a bad way to refresh yourself mid run.

Not a great way either. But still, the colors were bright, the sugar content was high, and the wooden sticks came with really bad jokes printed on them. All in all, it felt like summer. Which made me remember prettier, less humid runs. Like the pictures of my runs on the beach.





If you are still with me, I'll bring you up to speed on my speed. I look to be mostly on target for a 3:51:59 racing time. Or, I should say, I'm on target as one can be. I've now run two marathons and with that infinite wisdom I've learned that they are hard and can surprise you. Still, I managed to run a half marathon last weekend with decent time and in sub-optimal conditions (stopping every four minutes for traffic lights). It's the fourth from the last point (8:28 pace). The last point was the popsicle run. We stopped to walk and savor.


So get your donations in! Only so many more days. The summer is quickly fading. HOME and Fred's team could really use your help. And I know I do! Check out the marathon donation multiplier. Find out if that is for you! And donate today!

Monday, August 01, 2016

The Relaxening

Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!

Donate to H.O.M.E. here. Donate to Fred's Team here. More information here and at the top of the blog!

Showing our sweet commemorative tats.
I have some really wonderful friends. This was our third Relaxening, and first at the Chesapeake Bay. Each year the days are filled with all sorts of activities like sitting, eating, talking, and otherwise being together. And the nights look much like the days. (Though we keep going to bed earlier and earlier. Adam and I had a race to see who could fall asleep faster during our after-dinner conversation. I'm pretty sure I won.) While lovely, this weekend was far too short. I wanted at least an extra day with each of them. There was far to little time to catch up, to hear, to just be. 

Anyway, here are a few pictures to enjoy while you donate monies! 
The Bay and the liquid fire sand. The hottest weekend of the year.
We managed to squeeze in a few miles - and I managed to take a few pictures of the running route.
Amazingly I took zero pictures of corn. It seemed like we only ran through corn upon corn.
Eric had trouble lifting the bushel of crabs
We pretended that we would need a few sides.
Midway through. My lips were wrinkly from the old bay. Bourbon helped.
The aftermath. While the rest of us enjoyed the porch, Adam and Amrit cleaned the rest for cakes the next day.
The rental house listed a bit.
I even made it home with some fridge worthy artwork! Becca, whose signature was forged,
 was the one using my shorts as a tissue. And yet she still managed to be ridiculously cute.