Lets start at the present

     I've heard it over and over..."Do you have a blog? You should write about your running, your races, and your (mis)adventures as an endurance athlete and coach." I guess I haven't ever pursued this blog for the reasons that: A) I think I'm a pretty lousy writer, B) I don't think anyone would actually care to read about my training, and coaching experiences, and C) Every time I do try to sit down and write something I end up going back after 24 hours, re-reading it, realizing that what I wrote is not very good, and deleting it. So here it goes- my own running blog. Maybe there will be a post here and there about my other big passion, being a drummer, musician, and drum teacher, but generally I've started this blog for the purpose of running related stories. If you want to know about my drumming life click here to go to my website.
     So lets start at the present- Today, Sunday January 18, 2015. Sunday mornings mean one thing for most runners- long runs. With the Fred Lebow Half Marathon only a week away I was aiming for a  run of about 15 Miles today. I headed out of my house for a 7 AM start at a hosted run a member of The Essex Running Club was having at her home in West Caldwell. The course called for a few residential hills before heading to the West Essex Trail for an out and back 6 miles, then back on the streets and hills for some post-run hot oatmeal and home baked carbs, some conversation while we defrosted, then home by 9:30. The weather forecast- not too great. Just hovering around freezing with heavy rain predicted to really start coming down by 10 AM. Sounded like I'd just make it by the skin of my teeth.
     So as I stood shivering in a driveway in West Caldwell NJ, with the freezing rain beginning to fall in the pre dawn cold I eagerly awaited for my training partners to gather and begin our run. The first mile or two we ran at a comfortable pace, conversing, and enjoying the company of my three other running compatriots. Soon it was just myself and one other runner, affectionally nicknamed "Madman" who had already ran 6 miles from his house to get to the start and was looking to run 22 miles in total. (Do I really need to get into the origins of his nickname?) A few wrong turns and an increasingly icy course later we began noticing our traction getting worse by the minute.
     There was the inevitable slipping and sliding, until we realized the street was becoming a solid sheet of ice, as the sidewalks had apparently already been for some time. So along the suburban lawns of western Essex County we continued, slipping and sliding, turning our watches off and on every 30 seconds. (Madman who doesn't turn his watch off at brief stops says we were running at a  10 min + pace.) As I tried to convince him we would be sure to have great footing if only we could finally reach the trail head, and he tried to convince me that this was not only completely pointless but downright dangerous we began to turn back and walk. As we crept across the frozen sidewalk, now about to throw in the towel, we found a small park with two adjacent baseball diamonds. Finally getting some decent traction on the grass we looped and looped and made figure 8's around and around the tiny park for another 4 miles. What had become an aggravating exercise to just stay upright was actually becoming fun again. We traded stories of playing in the rain in our younger days, and wondered who were the bigger idiots: us running around this little park for 15+ laps or the slipping and sliding cars on the nearby street. We both agreed-if not for one another's company this would be a total nightmare.

Your author's failed attempt at rehydration

     As we finally made it back to the hosted run at exactly 10 Miles, we got into some dry clothes, gathered around a warm fireplace, re-loaded up on some homemade carbs, watched runners slide in the door, and swapped stories of how many times we fell, how many miles we didn't complete, and checked our phones to read the official reports of how bad it all really was. The salt spreader who glided into 3 cars, the runner from our club who was picked up on her way home by a good Samaritan in his brand new SUV only to slide and crash it minutes later, the reports of slippery ice covered streets, the 38 car pileup on the Turnpike, and the 400 reported car accidents. Suddenly those extra 5 miles I didn't run didn't seem to matter. I was warm, safe, with friends, and about to finally get into the car and drive home now that the travel restrictions had been lifted and the roads finally safe to navigate. Madman of course ran his 6 Miles back home. (I still don't need to explain the nickname, do I?)

     So my first race of 2015 is now 7 days away, and I guess you can say I started my taper by default. The forecast calls for dry, but cold conditions this week, and on race day. Will it really matter as I'm racing in Central Park next weekend that I was forced to cut my run short? Probably not. I finally got the inspiration I needed to start up this blog, and I've added another story to my arsenal about playing in the rain in my younger days. After all the training and suffering we do isn't it mostly about having fun and spending time with friends anyway?
-PK