The thoughts of a wannabe runner

Right now it's 60 and sunny out in the middle of October in Kent, Ohio. I have three hours until my next class. The Spirit of Pittsburgh half marathon is a little over a week away.

And I'm sitting in my room.

Sometimes I wonder if I can actually call myself a runner. I run a lot. I've spent hundreds of dollars in the past year on entry fees, shoes and clothes. I've ran races around Ohio and a half marathon in Pittsburgh. I can call myself a runner, but do I really have a runner's mentality?

My sister in high school was on the cross country team. She ran six days a week through the summer and fall. I thought she was crazy.

But maybe you have to be.

Running is more than running. Running is a need, not a want. Running is a lifestyle, not a hobby. Running is a lie, not a request.

I can want to run. The weather could be nice, I could feel gung-ho after watching Prefontaine. That stuff would make me want to run. But it's not just wanting. It's needing. I need to run for my day to seem complete. I need to feel that exertion, that tiredness, that pain.

To call running a hobby is a joke. Who can wake up at 5 a.m. for a race on a weekend and call it a hobby? I know a lot of people who call photography or art a hobby. I don't know anyone who has willingly woken up before the crack of dawn to paint though.

Depending on the day, usually about three miles into a run is when I start lying to myself. I tell myself I don't have much farther to go, my legs don't really hurt that bad or it's really not that bad. Sometimes I have to yell at myself (Seriously, watch me run up Summit St. hill sometime). Never though, do I ask myself to run more.

That just seems stupid. Of course I'm going to say no.

But maybe that's the difference between a wannabe and a runner.

# # #

I'm relaunching this blog on wordpress soon. Nothing against blogger, but it just seems like everyone else is on wordpress.

So be on the lookout for SeeJoshRun.wordpress.com (Like the title? I thought of it while running a few weeks ago. And I don't like attack the hill for two reasons: 1) I honestly hate hills, 2) My brother told me the name sounds like a crazy right-wing political blog. He's probably right)

How about run txt?

"I'll run tomorrow morning."

Those are usually the first words I think on Saturday mornings as I roll over on my futon to reset my alarm.

A couple things to note here:

1) The snooze function on my phone has increased my laziness 10 fold.

2) Yes, I sleep on a futon. I'm hip like that.

3) Tomorrow doesn't come very often.

I'm not what anyone would call a lazy person. I take 18 credit hours a semester, work 30+ hours at the newspaper, sit on Kent State United Way's board, plan stuff with student leadership in the Dive, etc., etc.

Lately though, I've been an unmotivated person. I always tell myself I can do this later. Procrastination is every college student's enemy.

When I tell myself I'll do my long run tomorrow, tomorrow becomes tomorrow, and tomorrow becomes tomorrow. You get the idea. It just never happens.

I think this is why having a running partner is so important. Running partners do more than just chat while jogging; they encourage each other.

This morning if I had gotten a text or anything from someone telling me or asking me to run, I probably would have. I would have jumped out of bed, thrown on my running stuff and headed outside. A simple text message is encouragement. It's knowing you're running for someone else.

It's like a team almost. You don't work for yourself, you work for the guy next to you. When I'm running by myself, the guy next to me is a large, middle-aged man mowing his lawn in cutoffs. He's not exactly someone I want to work for. So I don't run.

I'm one of those people who don't like to disappoint. I also don't say no very often. So if someone tells me to run, I'll do it. Maybe I'm a little weird in that sense. But that's what gets me to run.

So next time you hear me talking about running, send me a text the next day. I'll feel guilty and run. And you'll feel great knowing you've just manipulated me into doing something.

Boy meets shoes

I think a special bond exists between a runner and his shoes.

The shoes carry the runner, keeping him comfortable on the long run. They protect the runner from rocks and water. They love the runner.

But the runner fails to return the affection. While the shoes' love of its master is unwavering, more often than not, those shoes end up tossed under a bed, still reeking of sweat.

Six or eight months of hard labor, and the runner discards the shoes for a new, fresh pair. Sure, there is some heartbreak. An awkward phase of adjusting to a new pair of shoes, but the runner eventually moves on.

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I bought a new pair of running shoes before the start of the semester. They were a slick, shiny pair of Adidas Supernova Glides. While trying them on at Dave's Running Shop, I felt like my feet found love at first sight.

A month or so later, that doesn't seem to be the case.

My first runs with my new shoes went well enough. The short 2, 3-mile light jogs around town were nothing spectacular, but enjoyable enough for a second date.

The relationship strained though. My feet wanted my new shoes to feel like my previous ones. Runs began to seem forced. Hill climbs felt tense. Spontaneous runs ended terribly. Eventually, my feet became reluctant to even go on runs.

My feet had moved too quickly in the relationship. They didn't give time for the shoes to break in, to truly feel comfortable. Sure, everything seemed great in that fling at the store, but now the real world was setting in. Maybe my feet and those Adidas just weren't meant to be.

Then my old running shoes came back. The hole in the left shoe didn't seem so bad anymore. The familiar firmness of the soles embraced my feet on long runs. All the old feelings returned.

My feet became confused. Was there still something between them and the old shoes? Why didn't runs with the new shoes work out? Did the socks have anything to do it?

Only time will tell which shoes are meant for my feet. For now, my feet are running with my old shoes. But the new shoes are still in the picture. My feet walk around campus with them, breaking in, becoming more comfortable with each other.

It's probably better that they just take it slow for now anyway.

(Josh's note: This love story is in no way an allegory to myself or any real-life situation. I just got bored while waiting for a casserole to bake.)

I hate hills

Northeast Ohio might be one of my least favorite places to run.

I've ran around a lot of places — NW Ohio, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Jacksonville, Fla., west central Ohio — but Northeast Ohio ranks at the bottom.

Why do you ask?

The hills.

Yes, I realize this blog is named Attack the Hill, and I named it after the struggle to run up hills and conquer them. Lately though, they've been conquering me.

Kent has some fairly steep hills, especially around the university. There's Lincoln Street, Summit Street, Terrace Drive and Crain Avenue — just to name a few. I've never ran a road race with hills that steep or long. I really question sometimes why I train on these hills.

At home, in Pemberville, I can run 8-9 miles no sweat. Here at Kent, I'm sucking wind hard after two miles. That's not cool.

Maybe it's my core muscles. I haven't been doing any crunches or push-ups lately. Maybe I'm getting a little weak around that area. I'll try doing crunches and stuff in the mornings. Hopefully that'll help me attack the hills.

Or I'll just rent a really big backhoe and level out Kent, Oh.

Race countdowns:

Spirit of Pittsburgh Half Marathon: 58 days

Thanksgiving Day 10K Run (Cincinnati): 84 days

Flying Pig Marathon: 240 days

Pemberville Five Miler: Race Day

(Note: Since the Pemberville Five Miler begins at 6:30, I had an awkwardly long amount of time to kill. So this is what happened.)

10:00 AM (8 1/2 hours until race time): Wake up and lie in bed for a couple minutes. It’s going to be a hot day, I can already feel it.

11:30: After draining a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats, I open my itunes and crank up my “Psych up to Run” playlist. Nothing motivates me to run more than this playlist.

A.M. — Pax217

Readyfuels — Anberlin

The Sun Also Rises — Brave Saint Saturn

Vertigo — U2

The Galley Slave — Flatfoot 56

One Time — Earthsuit

Hand Grenade — Thousand Foot Krutch

Engage — Pax217

Our Little Secret — Justifide

Echelon — Pillar

 Bliss — delirious?

Come On — Andy Hunter

Go — Andy Hunter

Chinatown Jail Break — Flatfoot 56

Schizophreniac — Earthsuit

Where the Streets Have No Name — U2

Seven Nation Army — The White Stripes

Harder, Better, Faster Stronger — Daft Punk

Where the Streets Have No Name is especially meaningful to me. On top of U2 being an awesome band, this is one of the songs I remember hearing on the loudspeakers at Pittsburgh. The only other song I remember is Bruce’s Born to Run. I think that’s a little too cliché though.

I'm also checking my facebook page more often than I should. I don't think there's a better way to kill time than to mindlessly stare at facebook as it updates itself. Maybe I should get a Twitter too. 

12:15 PM: I sit down with my mom and brother for a Japanese lesson. After a summer of absolutely no studying, we’re both a little rusty. I barely remember hiragana and even less of katakana. Luke and I struggle through an hour or so of conversation. I think some of it is slowly starting to come back.

2:22: After eating a really light first lunch, I decide I’d rather feel full for a couple hours at least today. My mom makes a bowl of kitsune udon, Japanese-style noodles and vegetables. It’s just about my favorite lunch meal. I have this theory that Japanese food is better to eat than Italian food before running. Today, I finally get to put my theory to the test.

3:00 (3 1/2 hours to race time): The weather widget on my Mac says it’s currently 85 degrees outside. Great.

3:12: “Josh, if you’re just killing time before the race, you should take your sleeping bag to the Laundromat.” — My mom.

4:08: Going to the Laundromat was the first time I'd been outside all day. Holy cow. It's hot. I saw some people setting up registration tables by the fire station where the start line is. It shouldn't be allowed to be this hot today.

5:00 (1 1/2 hours to race time): Took a nap. Not because I was tired. Not because it's part of my pre-race ritual. Nope. I'm still just killing time. I think I'll go drink some water now.

6:00: Changed into my running clothes (first time wearing compression shorts in a race! Exciting I know). Then I walked down to the firehall to register in. My bib was 169. The square root of 13, an unlucky number. I just thought of that now though.

6:26: I notice the bank's time and temp says it's 90 degrees out.

6:30: The gun goes off...

Mile 1 (8:00): All I think as I approach the first mile marker is, "How are my feet feeling? Is my stomach ok? How's my pace? Too fast?"

Mile 2 (16:08): I'm a little weirded out when I hear the splits being called out. An 8:08 second mile? And I'm still feeling good? Sweetness.

Mile 3 "The Turnaround" (24:23): A mile completely out in the country. No shade, few buildings. Some enthusiastic fans lay out slit hoses that spray water on the runners. The fire department brings out a pump truck to dose everyone on the course. Relief. I love this race.

The turnaround is typically where I stop to walk. I still felt good though. So I kept running. The breeze blew into my face, suddenly the sun didn't seem so unrelenting.

Mile 4 (31:50?): Mile 4 is roughly the same water stop as Mile 2. Oddly enough though, there was no split caller. I was annoyed, so I asked the guy next to me. He said something around 31:50. I have a hard time believing I actually ran the fourth mile in 7:27.

The Finish Line (40:25): I love the finish of a race. I blew past four or five runners on my kick. I may be a road racer right now, but in high school I was a sprinter. My kicks are sweet.

So all in all, a 40:25 five-mile is a pretty good base to start my half marathon training from. Not to mention the fact that it was a gazillion degrees out today either.

Random thought

When I started this blog I dubbed it "attack the hill" because that's what my friends told me to do while we climbed hills during our runs at college. 

It occurred to me this afternoon that the 5K I ran this morning, which dropped 300 feet over it's span, was the complete opposite of this blog's name.

Oh, irony.

"The Fastest 5K in Ohio"

First race since Pittsburgh.

This morning I ran the JK 5K with most of the staff of Camp Wesley, where I'm a counselor this summer. It's billed as the fastest 5K in Ohio. For good reason too. The course starts literally at the highest point in Ohio and pretty much drops a couple hundred feet over 3.1 miles.

The guy who won ran something like sub-5 minute splits. I don't care if you're in free fall, that's fast. I heard he passed the pace car at one point.

Here's my splits:

Mile 1: 6:48

Mile 2: 13:56

Finish: 22:50something (Hey, guess where the downhill stopped)

That's pretty much going to be the fastest 5K I'll ever run. So I guess the JK 5K lives up to it's name. But hey, how can you compete with a race that starts at the top of Ohio?

Next race: Probably the Pemberville 5-Miler