The Pixies : Gigantic (1988)

MOTM Kim Deal ~ The Pixies

It was a couple of days before he left town for Thanksgiving eating/visiting family-no, not eating the family, geez-- and so forth that we talked about how certain musical instruments influence, help to shape, create, develop the personality of the person playing it and the conversation went a little freaky, I mean, I started to think that the instrument is the control panel for the musician, and while the musician not totally or actually never incidental to the sound emanating from that instrument whether juvenile or stunning the instrument in effect is a conductor of the musician but of course I just invented the idea that the, say the Trumpet as we were discussing is the type of instrument that commands the personality of a true frontman, that which is defined in any genre--any band in any genre-- that quintessential front~human who pulls us in and takes us on this mission that the band has laid out on a set list --which is another fascinating piece to the live experience and a piece that is unrelated here but whatev, it's my blog and I'll deviate if I want to, anyhooooo so if a trumpeter emerges as a frontman, sort of, or mainly this the trumpeter displays some of the skill set that is required from the frontman than it must be said that the instrument is the X factor in the development of this personality type and maybe musicians should have their own personality types charted like the type A's B's C's and D's that the rest of less than hard core musically trained or totally untrained-non musical rabble are categorized by because I can't imagine Kim Deal fitting into any of the categories that make up the ABCD types, I mean, she's totally something different and you can hear it in the bass she plays, she's heavy, maybe she's an Em personality, nahh too much of a complaint for the stoic, maybe she's an F#m7 because it's not a depressed note the m elongates the # and those notes meld into to something that is quite beautiful actually and with Kim, I've realized in her playing that there are times that she can choose a steadily simplistic bass line because it is required by the composition and that her instrument doesn't play her according to an idea that the more complicated the line, the more it pulls through the song, adding to it and being a part of it-- maybe I find a relationship between the F#m7 and the lyric 'your feet are in the sky and your head is on the ground' that the bright tones poking through the F#m7 is a metaphor for Kim's smart interpretation of the bass for the Pixies taking the bass from what could be that which settles the song to that line which the song gets tangled up in like in a simple tangling which is how I think Kim would want it --which is odd because she is really quite complicated but I love her and I love the Pixies and actually she was much like her bass line while she was in the Pixies ~ heavily rehearsed perfect design off a bit and still relevant since twenty years have meandered by

Disco Biscuits - Home Again - 5/29/10 - Red Rocks, Morrison, CO

MOTM The Disco Biscuits

Marc Brownstein, bass, all mega hot with his Macbook

A Philly band I heard about from a fellow Goddard College student in a common area where we were probably partaking of the Vermont (North Kingdom) kind and talking ad nauseum about jammy faves but not certain if 'to the point of nausea' was totally the result of the topic; no matter neither his name nor his designer drug preference is necessary to reveal but what emerged from that conversation was an opportunity to experience live music that married my - at the time newly discovered first of the two is new- two favorite elements: persistent electronic house-ica fused to my -must have- long, live jammy gimme some o' that and with that combo I find myself running a 20 miler in the time it takes Bisco to page through only 4 or 5 of it's explorative, shift~changing numbers but it's confusing because well, what I mean to say is that the art is happening while the artist is at work so that in these moments of the live jam, the moments that do not repeat, unlike much of the music that fills our environment whether preferred/hand selected or unsolicited, music has a structure to it that commands a quality of listening, a quality that actually requires concentrated effort and sometimes bands are lucky if we don't participate in this way, other times we are lucky to listen in just that right way because these artists disclose themselves through amplification a complex formula for the framework that becomes the platform for this art and, for me that is, the attack and at times can be rootsy reggae, electronica, house rock trance stuff that makes for the best running music and certainly a fun live experience-- this is a dynamic in every live jam performance that makes me fully present because if it weren't there, neither would I, but, for me the attack is that something fresh to the sound, the dynamic~dynamic that particular place in the song doesn't sound exactly the same with each performance, the fluid improv attack-not just experiencing the dark sides of the artist but also the aggressive, driven notes a pelting attack followed by the airy breathe of notes cushioned by the familiar drones and tones, in the jam culture persists the manipulation of body through sound there is an iconoclasm and affect a resembling an expression of these sounds that have pressed themselves out of the souls of the fans and cloaks them in colors/fabrics/textures that are as diverse at the divergent paths in a 25 minute Lunar Pursuit and I am one of those jam fans under attack by the band seeking those pinnacle moments of an epic good time and as it seems to be with much more regularity having a better and stronger workout than yesterdays or at least accomplishing in each day a concentrated effort in listening and being.

Tool - Stinkfist [hq - fullscreen]

MOTM Tool

This was going to happen following the Screaming Trees because of the time period, the sound reminiscent of the inertia caused in part by Nirvana's thrust that sent waves through all of us, and then Tool
along with a handful of other politically conscious/pop culture rejected/spiritually unfundamental and in particular those groups that are preoccupied with a concept that no-thing should interfere with my becoming especially dogma or anything that constructs cultural or spiritually predetermining platforms in our minds or tries to control 'where the water flows' for the individual that absolutely nothing that begins with
'this is the truth and the light' interacts with our development as humans and it's not that only a select few have something important to accomplish it is that all of us are becoming and if something interrupts that which moves into the direction of our progession to being fullly then it must be at least identified as a space invader or an infection You might think I am talking about Tool as the Iconoclastic-clasmatic iconoclasts
who are as banal as the sloping~non~linear~turns of a woman's curves constrasted against the cold`hard`mortar and rough`clay`brick or something artsy that makes you want almost want to say ' I just don't undestand it ' so that the artist has an opportunity to acquire a sense of acheivement, NOT, these are these things we've known about Tool whether we've bought their albums in the 90's or not there's a message there that maybe the ears weren't there to hear and certianly if Wal Mart and MTV were busily watering down Tool then THAT is what we've really always known is the aberrant tendencies were what kept us, exactly the ones that failed to read the warning on the package [or on the pew], what is there then for us are the coliding opposites that is Tool, the vocal contrasts, metal pulse to the music, ebbs and strange miscounts, timing shifts reminding me of complicated 7/8ths that show a sophistication and pique my interest and allow my shoe stikes to filter through the ear buds for a few moments,
what we have is Tool and except for Mr. Keenan who bravely puts stage crashers in bass ackward body slam death grip choke holds and behold the simple all hallowed hotness of Justin Chancellor (he's second from the right pictured above) who stomps the bass, Tool means penis and like there's really nothing else to say about that except this video is about transformation, a disturbing varietal.

The Single Ingredient Diet

Along with my fitness program, my diet always needs modification.
It would also not be unreasonable to say that along with any good fitness
program, a good and effective diet also needs the SAME rigor and attention that the
exercise prescription requires.
My calorie demands, that is my need for energy, has increased and
the types of foods needed to satisfy those demands are really very simple.
I once wrote about or talked to someone about how food for me is less about an adventurous culinary
experience and more about adhering to a strict understanding between
the food-its micro nutrients and, its relationship to my workout.
Recently, and through a smart and attentive friend, it was delicately brought to my attention that I am
calorie deficient based on the demands I place on my physical self and my need for energy.
As an example, there are days when I eat more. On those days, I crest the threshold
of eating that is reminiscent of my 300 pound days--where quantity consumed was
an issue (although quality is not).
The morning following a significant carbohydrate intake, however, my workouts
have an extra power element that seems lacking on the days when I monitor those
calories [perhaps too] strictly.
The single ingredient diet means I eat sweet potato, egg, meat, fruit, vegetable, rice,
oat, pasta, black bean, nut. One thing. One ingredient. And, I do this every 2-3 hours.
So, from my diet, I had to omit: hummus, tortilla chips, marshmallow fluff, salsa, cottage
cheese, soy milk, wheat crackers, peanut butter, diet soda, bread, spelt cookies (ugh)
and maybe other sweets that I don't need anyway.
For someone like myself who has undergone such a radical change in her physique and
in her physical fitness (I have lost 170 pounds)--food failed to stop short at categorizing me
as playfully neurotic.
Never mind all of that.
It is very important to view nutrition as that which fuels our bodies for
the demands we place on it in a 24 hour period. What you do with your 24 hours is your business.
For me, I workout for approximately two of those 24 hours and my total miles run through the week
can vary from 42-80.
Having fun with food for people is an enjoyable pastime, they make friends, cooking appeals to their
creative side, they write blogs and make movies and write books about food (of course, everyone likes food, right?) But in America, with such an impatient crowd of eaters, and an increasingly high-maintenance crowd at that,
suddenly we have forgotten simultaneously that our legs are meant for running and our calories are meant to
fuel our bodies simply as energy.
There is such a systemic-asymmetric-relationship between our time spent exercising/moving/sweating and the time spent selecting/preparing/eating food. Geez. Such a crime.
And, we have forgotten--as we have evolved from our primate ancestors--that our diets CAN and SHOULD be so simple and so uncomplicated.
Our diet hasn't evolved.
We need basics.
We need grains, protein, fiber. It's so easy.
And, the added benefit of when you're in shape and powerful
and strong the food you eat, so long as you meet
those basic needs, gets put to work--honoring that machine that your body truly is and, dare I say, honoring a soul
that desperately wants that body to move.

Screaming Trees - Make My Mind

Screaming Trees ~ MOTM Musicians of the Month

So, here's a run~on sentence about this months' Musician of the month and I am happy to announce this grungy 90's band that I have loved for years the Screaming Trees with their undeniably west coast sounds and not those of the aimless laid back variety but of a new style that was opened up when Nirvana broke in hard and in squeezed the Trees with an edgier than usual sound differing their 80's roots as skater music with more of that laid~back stoner psyche they welcomed change as good artists do and because I get that change and what inspires it and what compels it and researching briefly what projects they have found themselves in over the years it is clear that these fellas dig music period {ie Bomb The Bass} but there is nothing like the monster power chords of the early nineties and stringing together those pinnacle chops in three BIG changes comes a mega song like none other during particularly great practices and with Beck~like ebbs the Trees have it and let me say this because I mean it what grunge did to 80's rock was amp it up without diminishing the 80's vocal quality it leveled it so that it was 90's ready and now that we're not in the 90's it sounds classic in that grungy sort of way and the hair from the 80's changed only slightly and by that i mean less shampooing for the grunge folks and I get that too because when you have long hair you don't need to wash it everyday (partly because it's a hassle and partly because it looks cleaner for longer periods of time) lol anyway so I run to the Screaming Trees and I can do that because it has that epic from start~to~finish 90's muscle that pushes.

Re~Inventing The Fitness Program

So here's a run~on sentence about fitness, this comes at a very important time because, as I have discovered, I must always organize and re~organize my fitness program for a number of reasons one of which is keeping my physical self interested in the regimen and I can know that it is interested by continued hypertrophy of the muscle tissue and continued dissolve of the fat globules which takes me briefly on this tangent of tissue, the muscle does not weigh more than fat and I know we've all thought this but it's just not true, that being said, muscle takes up less space than fat so let's see, one pound of fat takes up roughly 4x more space than muscle and fat is not efficient, muscles require calories while fat requires nothing and so therefore fat is only kind of lame and that's because women have to have some of it on their bodies for survival and having babies, etc but to make this easier to understand if you have 2 women that both weigh 135 pounds the one with only 20% fat will look more tone and healthier than the other woman with 40% fat, this is because fat has more volume and makes you look lumpy and now you can guess my new goal for the next 4 months is getting LEAN and this will be done and I will do it myself and when I am done you can ask questions or hire me to train you because I am beginning a program that will allow me to train folks and assist in developing goals (more about that later) but I think what this sentence is about is my muscles because I want them and I want to see them and I like them and I especially like the shape that has emerged through all the changes my body has gone through and I am continually impressed at the willingness certain components of my body have that enables it to adapt and re~shape re~form re~invent themselves in a very big major FU to all those who assumed I was stupid because I was fat, so to that I say this: I wasn't fat, I was friggin lumpy because fat has more volume than muscle, so there.

Grateful Dead live 94 -So Many Roads

MOTM Jerry Garcia

I am always at least surrounded by individuals who are strong, smart, reasonable and who care for me and aren't afraid to share their thoughts and it has been this aspect of my life that has my attention more than ever now that the focus for me is nurturing important relationships and feeling, at once, blessed to have them in my life and it is days like today and weeks like this one when I can see with such clarity that which makes me take a breath, deeply, like the breath that a relationship often takes like the slack between tides, at the apex of change or the final [gaseous] heave of the corpse, a pause between two places or people, the median, the juxtaposition, Taijitu, where balance is imminent and necessary and the forever equation that the cosmos is forever doing and forever undoing and rarely, stubbornly showing her work in a way that I'm prepared for--like 15 years ago today, Aug. 9, 1995, no one can question whether or not I can recall that day and it's apex for me, the great pause in my life, the day, really, when everything changed (a bit naive since I hadn't birthed a child but similarly and in retrospect, this day was the biggest breath I've taken) and it started with a phone call to an apartment in Portland, Oregon where myself and my boyfriend slept onlly on a floor and drinking wine only from a gallon jug, the death of Jerry Garcia was announced to us through tears on a phone line suspending into mid air above me went my entire impetus for being on the west coast in search of the kindest of everything and in a breath had suddenly reached it highest and lowest point in a simultaneous explosion of confusion and hurt and such a feeling of emptiness that I actually can't say that I've recovered from it but here is that moment revisited and the man with his genius and magic swirls in and out of my EVERY SINGLE DAY and through the lives of my children and my father who heard his first Peggy O twenty years ago and grooved in a way that made me look at him as not the same man I've known but one who listens with the same heart that I have and as I continue to struggle with the loss of this talent Jerry Garcia has continued to accompany me on many deeply intense experiences and conversations and paintings and thoughts and writings and miles driven and miles run and even during both births of my boys, these are things that cannot be taken away, so today I take that pause, like I do every year at this time, to recognize a guy that has given so much to my life and I thank him, wholeheartedly, and I miss him, selfishly. So many roads to ease my soul.

Led Zeppelin- Kashmir

MOTM Led Zeppelin

This month's MOTM is Led Zeppelin so my job here is to try to explain that in a run-on sentence although how can I explain that when it's strictly my preferences at work and while I'm no music theorist [there are those who are] and they will agree that the discussion of why I love this music for running may lend itself to a lengthy attempt to articulate how I process music in general which of course takes all the romance out of it for me, I guess I'm reluctant to do what I think is whittle music down to information or signifiers, which it may be at most simple or maybe it just appears that way when organized intellectually, yet this is necessary so music theory can be taught and also, when paralleled with a brief mention in Einstein's special theory when he insists that geometry is 'true' because it corresponds with stuff we experience though experience isn't required for geometry to be 'true' or moreover kind of true, in fact, what we can know by this is that the equation is more true than what can be experienced...and maybe (this is me now and not Mr. Einstein) it is that the word true is actually too impressive of a term to use EVER even when discussing planes/polygons and why Led Zeppelin is, for me, so relevant to running while oh let the sun beat down upon my face as a non-logical axiom was spun from an innocent length of road that when threaded together with a very percussive song in which the guitar emphatically mirrors that profound percussiveness we are so very pressed to acknowledge an equally heavy and dark cello, my god, which is so odd to me because my experience has been with the cello, while very moving, not as dark but I am continually reminded of the tenacity and courageousness of the artist so much that here I am not sure if I am more seated in Page than in that nameless cellist, or that out of this passion for running and new-sprung physical strength emerges a new way to process, a new set of preferences and a brand new axiom that marries music theory, relative positions and foot strikes thereby, which is even better, completing an epic trifecta of 60 degree angles that I call perfect.

People Under The Stairs - Acid Raindrops

MOTM~ People Under The Stairs (PUTS). A Run On Sentence About Music I Run To.

I know, I know it seems unlikely that I would choose (for the MOTM) the mellowest west coast hip~hop with the super~kind~deep rooted drum loops and heavy grooved rap with melodious movements lightly~mild~thinly~easy but committed to an R&B underpinning like the smooth hand groping under clothes, specifically the kind that moves my feet by way of my heart because the desire of melodious hip hop grooves is JUST that and not even JUST that because what I have discovered about these fellas lyrically (in their homonyms and homographs) is that there are phrases that are quite brilliant and strung together with marajuana, ammo and funky tracks and nickel sacks and reaching out so that I get what is referred to and why the lower ends of the mixes are riffs that take over vocals and the presentation of the song as a single structure becomes less structured and the components separate themselves from each other (a simple volume adjustment for the producer, who is an artist as well) , but giving in to that kind of listening allows the music to push itself through the space allowing us to breathe the intention of PUTS, in pleasurable ignorance.

Watch This Cool Trailer

MOTM~ Stewart Copeland/The Police

This run~on sentence is about listening to Stewart Copeland because he is my cat~in~the~hat when it comes to running; or, specifically I once compared The Police to Dr. Seuss saying that The Police are to rock-n-roll what Dr. Seuss is to children's literature: with that very unique sense of meter and rhyme, one that is timeless, madly creative and wildly intense with imaginative measures and the playful interludes found in syllabic explosions; The Police are elegant and with Mr. Stewart, it's like he's read my favorite Seuss 'To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street", because he knows how to wrap my feet with roto toms, honoring that they are the group I pull behind me in a wagon, and they are the ones that keep me coming back for more of everything I imagine about running while I am not doing it, just like the boy from that story.

One Sentence about a Runner's Tattooed Legs.

This runner was in the very fast 2000 corral at the Boston Marathon and I wasn't the only one who noticed because people were photographing his legs, except me and I regret that- both legs were tattooed with an entire musical composition beginning at the thighs and encircling, ending at the calves; A week later I determined his legs are to running what the conductor's arms are to the orchestra or, maybe it's that occult~like aspect to running, the ta eso, extending beyond pure reason that had gone looking for an alternative expression, the ta exo.

One Sentence about Running on Trails

Running on trails evokes a kind of listening that is similar to the sound of a lover's voice; it's in the birdsong, the breezy~blow through soft spring leaves, the electric~lush of fern and planting the foot on maple~memories that gave way to new.

MOTM: Phish

Well, what can I say, you saw this coming. IT was bound to happen. There, I said it, so let us move on.
Phish is one of the best bands on the planet to run to, to dance to, to sing to, to drive to, to raise kids to. It's no mystery that Phish is a high energy band; they are an improvisational strong arm that sets them head and shoulders above any other in the category. And, there is a category; Phish is a jam band. But long ago, far far away, there were a bunch of folks who listened and followed and grooved deeply without the category. Now there are many who follow in their footsteps, just as Phish has footsteps it follows; but, their legacy can never be eclipsed by another. I promise.
Phish has kept me coming back over the years and with good reason! The music is fresh, it's ultra~creative, genius, brilliant, composed with elements that make you smarter, and, not unlike any classical definition of a musical composition.
Their music is like a concerto, allowing and alternating between each, leading the rest, emerging slightly from the other three. You have the accompaniment and the soloist, there are counterpoints, there are modulations and monotones, there is the discretion of each of the guys as they work together, there is harmony, expression, intonation, inflection.
For me, as far as my rock-n-roll experience, both live and studio, these guys really have had my attention for many years; they will continue to have my attention even though the shows I'm not going to continue to pile up. Stepping off to the side is okay, too.
Good news!! I am flying to Telluride this summer to see two (very special) Phish shows. I am bringing my running shoes!! It will be fun to go for a run before the show. To have Phish in my ear buds maybe playing a selection that will surface later that night. Maybe what I hear in my headphones will become 'my call' for the evening as we discuss sets lists and what they haven't played in a while. Or, what has been in heavy rotation. Or, what soundcheck revealed while running by.
One thing is for sure, whirling around in this dizzying inspiring concerto I call Phish, there is Jon Fishman. He really is what makes this great running music. I so totally dial into his hi-hat or maybe the ride to the far right. My feet found a home there in the eccentric end of his rhythm. YOu'd think it is the kick. But it isn't. Or, maybe the snare as it sharply thrusts through the other fella's instruments. Not. Instead, it's the lively and even~tempered repetitions of the consistent beat; the beat that the other sounds situate themselves in within the percussive measure; this becomes almost a template for Fishman as he scans, organizes and displays the elements of his kit.
I once had the very awesome privilege of reading Fishman's senior thesis from Goddard College (The Vault) entitled "A Self Teaching Guide To Drumming Written In Retrospect". In this thesis, Fishman deconstructs the techniques and methods used for jazz drumming, cultural stylings of African drumming and really a variety of techniques. I was convinced after reading his paper, that there is a very intellectual side to the jazz drummer and to hear this training in his technique distinguishes him as a rock-n-roll drummer and pushes him instantly to an all new level of badass. The listener isn't always able to pick of the finesse of a jazz trained musician and, really this says nothing about either participant. What it does show, however, is the ability for a musician to use his training, in Fishman's case, as part of an intelligent network of communication, a system devised by the band that includes me and makes me feel welcomed~regardless of what I bring to the event. But this I know, Fishman has personally powered me through workouts, whether a MOMA, Julius, Carini or the classic standards for running: Antelope, Tweezer, Weekapaug and YEM, for me the guy has ceaseless talent and I am stoked that we graduated from the same college!!! I can't wait to find out what is on the horizon me this summer in Colorado. Time to focus and make lists!
Keep Running!
And, I certainly wish the guys a great summer on the road! (Uncle Pen in Telluride, encore the first night, and maybe a lovin cup thrown in there for good measure. am I right, John?)

I Shamrocked this race!

Virginia Beach, Shamrock Marathon, March 21, 2010

That is what the finisher's shirt says on it. "I Shamrocked this race". Gladly this is a term that no one understands, so, when I say that I shamrocked this race, you will have to believe me without question, or doubt or suspicion.
Road races are for good causes. This particular race ended up donating $500,000 to the American Cancer Society; a killer nationwide community based voluntary agency dedicated to cancer research, education and beating it down so it's not the evil killer that it is. This is very close to me; my mother has had cancer 4 times. Mom's cancer makes her a person of interest to the bright folks at Dana Farber Institute where they study people like mom who fly under a radar that has been aggressively chasing her down since she was 38 years old. I am 38 years old. So, I've decided to run away, more than a metaphor, from all things cancerous. We shall see if I've bettered my chances or if the cancer gene is indeed stuck to my double helix; the cancer gene is best compared to an Improvised Explosive Device (IED), I only mean to suggest that there is a finite amount of time till it rears its head and the body becomes the battle ground. I've willed other things away and I shall will this, too.
One would think the marathon is the premier event! Not the case here, or, at least the number of participants, as compared with the other events that weekend, did not reflect it as the premier event. Less than 2700 were in the 38th running of the Shamrock marathon. The other races, in VA Beach that weekend, had more than 10,000 participants. No worries.
There were 177 women running in my division which is women's 35-39 years. There were 1043 women in total. I placed 29th in my division and I placed 224th out of the women.
My age-graded result was 56.2% which is an interesting calculation gauging how the runner fits into gender/age; it's the runner's overall performance grade for the race. Whatever. Could be useful information someday, it's there if I ever give a crap.
Races are usually sponsored by beer. Yeungling, for this race. This was my first time drinking the lager; it is very tasty with excellent, rich amber color, round finish, resembling an ale in many ways but, when super chilled has epic notes of a light malt on the front & a bright hoppy punch to the back but it's quick like a stable lager. I drank 7 Yeunglings after my race. Yes. Beer is to the road race what butter is to lobster. Sorry dear New England friends!

75 degrees, clear skies, bright sun.

D Tag attached, check! Two GU's, check! Laces double tied, check! Calm?, Check! Elijah has two GU's for the split, check!

At the second split, the most important one and exactly on time, this was at 13.1 miles. 1:51, exactly an 8:38 pace. I wrote the times on my legs so I could be reminded. But, anyway, I got there perfectly. oh, I saw a NH girl at mile 7. I ran next to her for a bit as we talked about Reach The Beach (her shirt), a relay similar to Hood To Coast. It's possible that I will be joining a team for this race and I told the girl about that. She said some things (I was passing her and she was real nice) and then I was gone. Never saw her again.


I smelled no aftershave. Thank you marathoners! They must have read that blog AHEM! about synthetic pheromones and their negative affects on neighboring runners.
Running on the shoulder was a new technique of mine. Finding comfort and participating in an extended warranty for my R achilles, the treadmill has become a new vice of mine. I love the road, but the pounding is covered by credit and when it's time to pay up, you get bent over coughing up double. So, the shoulder. You could find me there. And, for miles I passed people there. FEeling the sand give a bit was just what I needed.

There were about 2 minutes that passed before my section of folks hit the start and clicked on the d tag. The openness at that moment called for a lengthy stride, followed by another one similar, a shortened one more closely resembling me and then we're off, i hit my pace, sat back and focused and listened to the music.
You know you're running a marathon when: there are empty GU vessels ALL OVER the road for 26 miles, when there are people laying in the grass of the final 10 kilometers. And, you know it when your body turns off all pain receptors, locks down, closes up and gets to work with a determination not yet accessed. And, you know it when there is a definitive point where there is no more energy, just a will that emerges ex nihilo.

I ran out of energy, but listen, it's not all that bad. I have a ton of endurance (okay there may be a difference and I'll explore that and report back-diff. between energy and endurance). At the final split, with 10 kilometers to go, i saw the clock 3:01:27. I remember squinting at the clock through the sun, shiny spikes of light darting from my squint through damp eyelashes, making an effort to accurately register the time in my head, this took effort, actually. I quickly ran some foggy calculations. Let's see...at 4:30 in the morning, I jump on the treadmill and run 4 miles in about 33 minutes. If I run 7 miles, I'm done in an about in hour. Boston was out of reach! I trained enough in the chilly New England winter. running 3 twenty milers during the 5 weeks leading up to race day and was keeping an average of about 40-50 miles a week.
For the folks on the the side of the road with the EMT's, perhaps their training was inadequate. I don't know. When I said I ran out of energy, this just means that my cruising pace of 8:38 for the final 10k lapsed into a 9 and some change. I was OK about. Reconciled it. REalized, for real, that marathon miles are exponential (tested using scientific theory, exponential as quantifiable property) and that a 10 k right then, is not a 10 k in it's simplest understanding, or how I was used to them feeling.
Glycogen Debt (observable phenomena- the second part of scientific theory:):
I love using money or financial reference as the metric for most things. It speaks to my kids. Their main currency is surprisingly not the TV or the PS2, it's the rattling contents of the piggy bank. And, I've a fine for most bad behaviors. So, to avoid being totally cruel, they can earn it back, too.
Anyway, I've been doing lots of research of glycogen. Let me just say this and then I will blog about the stuff because I think it's way cool. My muscles started to pretty much use themselves as energy toward the end of the race. This glycogen, the energy in the muscles that, once depleted, causes the muscles to break down. Now that I have very little fat on my body, I can see how key carbo replacement is. There was a time when carbohydrates were the enemy. Now I cannot build my muscle and stay energised at the workout, without significant portions. Craziness. I will do some more studying about this and get back to you.
Legs froze after I crossed the finish. I got the d tag over the finish and walked. Calves very tight. Ankles stiff. Bananas, pretzels, cookie, water, 3 waters, 6 bananas, 2 cookies, gatorade, finisher's shirt, finisher's medal, finisher's ball cap. Glycogen at an all new low. More later on that and perhaps some tips on avoiding it.
I'll need to figure something out. I'm running a 50k race Memorial Day weekend in Maine. That's 31 miles, and I have no business sapping the glycogen out at the 20 mile mark.
Finished my first marathon: 4:08
Keep Running!
(still waiting for photographs from mother in law, stay tooned)

Beck: MOTM (Musician of the Month)

Each day I post some basic information about my daily workout, including the song that most inspired me, on Facebook. SOTD is an acronym for song (S) of (O) the (T) day (D). How this relates to my workout is really important, it is the reason I workout, it's the runner's high, the endorphins firing off, the dopamine produced by the brain surging/pumping positivity throughout my body.
Those things are what makes a workout a good workout. Each day my road running, my workouts on the treadmill and/or my weight training provide much satisfaction for me, and if I'm honest, the music is not incidental to this.
I ran a 13 miler on Wednesday and turned off the music for about a mile, this was a test. First, the sounds of my shoes on the road is rhythmic; breathing in and out is audible and, maybe was in 4 time. One breath in and one out, completing a full cycle included 4 shoe strikes on the shoulder. Just like that! This cycle repeated itself in the same pattern, after a significant warm up, of course. Next came the sounds of the cars going by at like 40 mph; because I live in the country, the erratic presence of cars made this annoying actually. Other runners assert that running without the msuic is an organic experience. So I gave it a shot and besides my breathing and foot strikes which are quite rhythmic, thus resembling music in my hear, I'll stick with music--it gives me something to write about.
So, this is a new thing I'm going to start doing each month: MOTM. This is another acronym: Musician(M) Of(O) The(T) Month(M). This new thing probably requires little more than that as an introduction, but, I want readers (if they exist) to understand that there is more going on in my heart about the workout. To be sure, I'm not trying to come off like I work for Rolling Stone (that being said, I'm open to them thinking I have a natural talent, and, maybe there's an opening or something?; I will need a pink treadmill in my office and a cute boy to massage my feet).
Since the new year I've been listening to lots of Beck (see fig 4.3). His music has revitalized the workout for me, more to the point, it has been key to the indoor workout, the gym workout. Which, btw, is radically different than running miles on the road, it takes more concentration than I thought I had.
I am listening to 2 records, Odelay and Mellow Gold. Odelay, omg. Beck's songs are highly percussive with the space in between that makes me deeply attached to what (and aware of what) has influenced him musically. First listen gives way to classic punk rock styling- but his beat--it's like real grungy, classic punk stuff...but I trail off from here because the guy is really hard to categorize (RS, don't hold it against me, I'm a newbie).
Hotwax is such a great song. Commercial break: I am headphone person. I can't run with a boom box (that would be so cool, so old school, but, so fully inorganic in my own category of inorganicness and kind of bulky.) I have the headphones. Alright gear heads, I have pink earbuds by JVC. Pink.
Back to Hotwax, I can tell the song in the first few notes. The twang of a very southern-maybe slide-maybe an open body jazz guitar with extra special attention being paid to the texture of the lower strings. Strings played confidently with lots of stress put on them, can sense his ear through this technique. I immediately move my posture differently, like sitting back into a cruising pace with cadence very aware of the sound in the earbud. The bridges come without warning and back to that deep percussive movement that is my Beck.
There are changes in a workout, similar to those that happen in Becks songs. Ebbs and flows. His music empties out in the bridges. This empowers the percussiveness at the change. It power boosts it. The synthesized elements are what makes this category of music strictly his own; it reminds the listener that Beck is weird. Let us not forget. His ingenuity is stunning, like Dr. Seuss meets a cubist at a bar in NYC where they crank late 70's punk, do some recycling, toke with Beeker, while GG Allen salts the fries. Yeah, I don't know if they'll hire me anymore.
Workouts work similarly. When it empties, it's called the bonk. You can hyper do it if you're not eating enuff or you're not into what you're doing. Bonking and being apathetic are both bad and must be avoided. Music is not a device just to motor one through or artificially increase physical response to the intensity of the workout. Not!
Though a device, our physical response is first to the music thus springing out of our bodies through feet and hands, whether moving the ground beneath the feet or pulling 20 pounds up with the left obliques or 25 pound curls under the stress of the repetitions. It can be quite magical actually.
The runner's high; we know that we must be super synced with ourselves to have it. Euphoria. Imagine that feeling accompanied by some really killer music. Sometimes I feel like I'm dancing in my running shoes (the 769's, for the road, or the Free's for the gym) and tights. Maybe I should blog about FILA. A brand that makes me look good if I get to dancing a little while I'm running.

Ice Skating With My Boys

There isn't a more joyous time for me. Being with my children and skating on the ice is something that brings me such happiness. I can see the happiness in the kids' faces, and that makes me even more super happy!
And, I? I feel like a kid, for sure. Alpine skiing is fun, yes, but skating is ultra fun. My earliest wintry memory is of playing hockey in tiny, girly, white hockey skates with my dad and brother.
Now with the conditions as they are, my entire front yard is available for some of the best skating around. 100 acres of open skating!
Elijah and Levi actually let me hold their hands, today, as we coasted making large circles with our blades--carving white tracks atop the smooth ice. The sounds of it heaving and sighing under our weight doesn't bother us. We are New Englanders. We know ice. And, starting at a very young age, we learn how to glide on it. We learn how to gain speed pushing our blades out and to the side and the turn, with arms outstretched with a gentle motion we glide backwards, staggering the blades and leaning in to make an easy semi- circular turn. The ice looks like a massive diamond that's not yet cut to sparkle in that way, especially at twilight with the epic reflect-ioning glimmer coming in at us from the West. See fig. 4.3
It's best to skate due West at twilight...the remainder of daylight illuminates cracks that have potential to reach up and grab the blade taking us down or causing an explosion of posture and appendage as we attempt to recover, removing any signs of grace and control from the event.
But, holding Elijah's hand... I'm pretty sure I will think of that moment a thousand times. Skating with him and having him rely on me in a very real and tangible way, and, my being able to do that for him in a real and tangible way, best demonstrates, in a real way, my desires and wishes for him as his mother. I'm willing to bet Levi will always remember skating as a young kid and licking the ice and chipping away at it and being with mom (the boys think I'm a professional skater :)
It is so important for me to be fully present for the ice skating. So many minutes get pushed toward the routine. I need to find a way to hold my boys' hands this summer.... or else I'll just be dreaming of winter.

A Snowy Walk in New Hampshire

Today was basically the quintessential winter day in New Hampshire. It snowed lightly all day, laying down about 4 or 5 inches of snow that is sticky for snowpersons. It was beautiful outside, everything looking clean and fresh. The temperature was hovering around 27 or 28, so, it was warm.
Levi, who is my 3 year old son, likes to ride on the sled to the bus stop to get his older brother, so off we went.
I saw a tree.
A pretty and small tree that was skinny on the bottom and twiggy on the top. The snow was stuck to it and it looked beautiful. (see fig. 4.3)
"Levi, look at the tree," I said, pointing to the tree, "It's pretty, isn't it?"
"No." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No." he said, "It's not pretty."
"Pfffft. Okay." I said, as I started off toward the bus stop again, pulling the sled behind me.
I turned to give him a wink and a smile, and you know what? He was looking back at that pretty and small tree that was skinny on the bottom and twiggy on the top!
Although a child can't really acknowledge that his scope of the world emerges largely from his parent, the fact that levi gave the tree that second look reassures me that he is listening and exploring and (not just) pushing against me. I'm okay with all of those things because I love him (and, he does enjoy what snow can do to a small tree).