I’m finally back in Los Angeles after the Thanksgiving holiday, a time that knows no diet plan. It certainly was a calorie-laden holiday, and my father and brother put together quite the feast. The fact I didn’t suffer much in the way of heartburn was extraordinary as second and third helpings were inescapable. But while on vacation, I wasn’t about to skimp on my marathon training, and running was of the upmost necessity after gobbling down turkey, creamed corn, apple and pecan pie, stuffing and the occasional serving of vegetables. I actually did my recovery run on a treadmill, but I increased the grade to 3% to make it more challenging for myself. My family and I were staying at a house by the ocean, and I did a lot of walking on the beaches and grassy paths which left my heart beating faster than just about anything else, maybe even sex.
This past week had me catching up on making money to pay the kind of bills Donald Trump has avoided paying for years, and this kept me from doing my maintenance runs. So, coming into this 14-mile run, I felt like I was going to fall behind everyone else in an embarrassing way. But at least this time I made it to Griffith Park before everyone else ran off without me.
On my way over to Griffith Park, I had my soundtrack and film score iPod playing on shuffle mode as I was trying to find the right piece of music to get myself pumped up. The best I could come up with was the “Helicopter Chase” theme from James Newtown Howard’s score to “The Fugitive.” Listening to this piece of music quickly reminded of Harrison Ford’s role of Richard Kimble, a doctor wrongfully accused of murdering his wife who ends up escaping police custody and going on the run in an effort to clear his name. Being someone afflicted with an infinite persecution complex, I relate to what Kimble went through even though I am not a vascular surgeon and did not kill my wife (for the record, I am not married).
Today I was planning to run at a 3:2 pace as running at a 3:1 pace was not the same as it used to be for me. But upon learning the rest of the 15-minute group was going to run at a 2:2 pace, I decided to adjust accordingly as I felt it would be nice to run with the group for a change instead of by myself.
Well, it turns out running at a 2:2 pace was the best thing for me as I never struggled for energy or “hit the wall” at any point during this 14-miler. The extra minute of walking allowed me more time to recover, and it felt good to keep up with my fellow pace group runners instead of falling behind which I have found myself doing these last couple of years.
Another notable presence on our running route was the Burbank Police Department, and a motorcycle cop did not hesitate to stop us in our tracks when he found us running on the street instead of the sidewalk. He was quick to inform us that the walking path which runs down the middle of Chandler Boulevard was built for people like us. We never got the opportunity to tell him about how running on asphalt is easier on our joints than concrete, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.
Following this, we saw a number of Burbank cop cars pulling one driver after another over to the curb, so clearly they were trying to meet some sort of quota. Not that I don’t support the police, but making an unscheduled and forced donation to them always feels like thievery to me. It doesn’t matter if you deserved to get a ticket or not because, who wants to pay it? A lot of people go 80 miles per hour in a 25-mph zone. Not me, but a lot of people.
One thing my pace group did get to do on this run, and it is something I always hoped we would do, was sing a marching song. One of the runners serves in the military, and he got us to sing along with him. Here’s my favorite part:
“If my chute don’t open wide,
If my chute don’t open wide,
I got another one by my side,
I got another one by my side.
If that chute don’t open round,
If that chute don’t open round,
I’ll be the first one on the ground,
I’ll be the first one on the ground.”
Hey, it was either that or something from “Full Metal Jacket,” and some of the marching songs in Stanley Kubrick’s film are not exactly appropriate for the ears of Burbank citizens.
It took long enough, but the weather is finally getting colder, at least in the morning. It was seriously frigid when we arrived in Griffith Park, but the temperature did rise as the sun came up. I think we managed to beat the heat for the most part, and we arrived back where we started just before it became unseasonably warm.
I am in the slowest pace group now as several other runners have since dropped out of the program for one reason or another, so only the coaches were still around when we returned to Griffith Park. Part of me feels a little disappointed in myself as I kept thinking I would be in a faster pace group after running so many marathons, but instead I have slowed down to where I wonder if I will ever be the svelte individual I was back in my high school days. Hey, I can dream, can’t I?
But seriously, I felt really good about changing the pace on this run. I came through it without feeling hopelessly exhausted, and I felt satisfied in a way I haven’t in some time. There was plenty of chocolate milk left over to cure me of my runner’s hangover, and I drove back to my apartment for a well-deserved nap which lasted much longer than it should have (not that I’m complaining or anything). Next week we have a recovery run, and we will need it after this one. Coach James encouraged us to do our maintenance runs on Tuesday and Thursday so we would have time to recover and to keep increasing our mileage on them. I’ll do my best, but like Boy George once said, time won’t give me time dammit.
Thanks for reading.
The Ultimate Rabbit 