Recovery

sunday was one of the best days of my life. i finished the houston marathon in 3 hours, 15 minutes, 19 seconds -- a whole FIVE AND A HALF minutes faster than my previous best.

i'm recovering now, planning to post a full race report on the run factory within the next few days.

here is the song that was stuck in my head for at least 22 of those 26 miles (during the last 4 my brain wasn't working well enough to understand music):

Pardon the interruption

i'm going to do something i haven't done in almost two years: take a few days off from sharing my thoughts.

why?

because i'm super focused right now on running a personal best at the houston marathon this weekend. i'm going to be traveling, the technology loop (as mentioned previous) tends to drag my focus in times like these, and i want to really kick some fucking ass down there.

i'll be back.

while i'm gone, do yourself a favor by going outside and exploring.

HOLLA!!!

New year's resolution: dowatchulike

two years ago my resolution was to quit smoking. mission accomplished.

last year my resolution was to learn something new. i bought some turntables and taught myself how to mix/scratch. been having a blast doing it all year.

my resolution for the year 2012 will be to spend more time doing the things i enjoy and say fuck all to everything else.

more reading, more writing, more baseball, more basketball, more running. LESS people-pleasing, LESS committing to shit i don't care about, LESS suppressing my feelings/thoughts.

HUZZAH!

Introducing "The Run Factory"

i have too many running-related pieces running (pun intended) through my head, so i decided i'd post those at a different site, therefore keeping Sky God! real with the usual badassery and not confusing it with all those running adventures.

i'll be writing about running at The Run Factory.

holla.

If i'm not alone, then YOU'RE not alone

every once in a while i'll stumble across something on the internet that really catches my fancy.

recently, through a friend of a friend of a friend on facebook, i tripped over this blog post from someone i've never met or heard of before and a couple hours later i felt like i was reading the pages of my very own running doppelganger.

i realized that i'm not alone in my running addiction and that in this bigass world, one can only be as alone as he allows himself to be.

and that's fucking cool, man.

Ryan hall: one fuckin' fast crazy train

i love ryan hall. i really do.

as a runner, i have nothing but respect for the man. his marathon achievements thus far are as inspiring as his training tips are effective and i love every bit of ryan's work ethic.

but the dude is fucking batcrazy delusional.

also, he's one of those preachy xtrian delusionoids who won't let an opportunity to speak about his god in public go amiss. here he is prior to this year's chicago marathon, talking about his training habits. he gets into the bible/jesusy shit around the 1:40 mark.

sorry, ryan. jeebus and god and the MAN MADE bible have nothing to do with the normal training techniques you're talking about.

your body needs rest. it especially needs rest if you put it through hard work. without rest, adaptation cannot take place, and you wouldn't do well in any sort of race. do you really need the bible to tell you to take a day off once in a while? do you need a bible to tell you to go pee when you have to go pee too?

and yes, of course, an abundance of counselors is going to be beneficial to your training. that's why we have think tanks and focus groups and congress (okay, maybe congress is a bad example). i don't see how the bible is necessary for you to ask others what their opinions/thoughts might be.

i have read advanced marathoning four times now, and the authors point out -- repeatedly -- how important the above principles are.

it has nothing to fucking do with the bible.

PS, i will still be there cheering for you in houston this january.

Endorphin ecstasy

i completed my first 50K trail race on saturday. it was fucking badass.

i don't know how else to explain it.

in fact, it's hard for me to describe a 5 hour endorphin trip that includes listlessly romping through the forest on a 55 degree morning with plenty of sun. the whole time i kept saying to myself, "this is the life, this is the life, this is the life"...

and everyone i came upon seemed to agree.

what shocks me is that most people don't enjoy running. i know it's not for everybody, but i do feel like adults could use a little play in their lives. for a good part of the race i was clicking my heels and doing twisted leaps down the rocky trails, the smile on my face stretching from one end to the other.

i can't wait to do more. i even signed up for my next challenge: a 50 miler.

BOOM!

50 kilometers

50K. that's what's on my mind today.

on saturday, i'll be taking my first shot at running the 50K distance. i'll be running on trails, in a warm climate and my pops is gonna be there to make sure i don't die.

haha. just playin'. 50K (31 miles) isn't much more than a marathon, so i know i'll be just fine. still, since this is my virgin voyage, i can't help but acknowledge that i do have some nerves piling up.

i've decided to not race it, to just take my time and enjoy the journey, wherever it takes me (hopefully not off course!)... and in making that decision i realized that my plan is quite the cliche metaphor for life.

well, shit, things become cliche because they're RIGHT, right?

right.

:-)

Get ready for the cold by saying "FUCK YOU, COLD"

it's pretty dark when i lace up for my morning runs now. not only that, but that crisp, cool left jab of a chill is in the air too. that can only mean one thing: winter time is a comin'.

here in chicago, we have two seasons: hot as fuck and cold as fuck. our transitional period is usually filled with rain, wind and whatever else people don't like. but there's one thing to remember for those of us who live here: WE FUCKING KNOW IT'S COMING.

now, one can either get pissed off at that, or one can just embrace it and get off on being tough in the face of whatever mother nature throws at us. it took me about 4 years of moping and complaining and using the harsh winters as an excuse for being miserable before i realized that I AM THE MASTER OF ME.

all it takes is the right attitude, and we humans can pretty much psyche ourselves through anything. and that's exactly what i do.

i spit in the face of chicago's worst weather. FUCK YOU, COLD. FUCK YOU, RAIN. FUCK YOU, 40 MPH WIND.

you can't get to me, 'cuz i won't fucking let you.

Free running, parkour badassery

for me, one of the great perks of life is discovering cool shit i never knew existed.

the other night i was interweb surfin' and i stumbled across something called free running, which is a variation of something called parkour -- both concepts that my mind had never even thought or heard of.

fucking fascinating shit. watch for yourself:

here i've been living 32 years and never heard of this.

it's probably a good thing i'm just now learning about it, otherwise i might have been inclined to try it out at some point.

i know better now.

i think.

Switchin' it up and slowin' down

i run a lot. it's my thang. that is no secret.

but when i run i'm usually in my head. yes, the surrounding environment is there, but my mind isn't focused on it.

the other day i decided to rest my legs and do something different: i went on a walk.

i walked up and down the streets in my neighborhood -- a chi town neighborhood i've lived in for nearly 5 years now -- and for the first time, i SAW my neighborhood.

that may sound weird, but i encourage you to try it. slow down. look at everything. pay attention to the little things. ask questions. be curious.

when i got home -- TWO HOURS LATER!!! -- i was giddy from all of the cool shit i learned lurked just beyond my door.

Victory, sweet victory

my top 4% finish at the chicago marathon sunday was as exhilarating as it was mind-blowing. running at the front of a pack of 45,000 people was something i had never done before and being treated to the neverending cheers from 1.7 million spectators gave me the energy to fly without much perceived effort... until about the 23 mile mark, where i conveniently asked myself: "whose legs are these?!?!"

nevertheless, i kept pushing. hard. then harder. then HARDER. until i crossed the line with a dizzy disposition.

it was a little too warm for my liking, so my time wasn't as good as i thought my legs were capable, but finishing at 3 hours 20 minutes and 49 seconds was good enough for a top 4% finish and a to-date personal best time at the distance.

next up: two 50K trail races (one in texas and one in indiana in november and december respectively), then on to houston in january for another sub 3:15 marathon attempt.

as one of my best buddies would say: HOT MUTHAFUCKIN DOG!!!

What i'm doing

if you're reading this between the hours of 7:30 a.m. and 10:45 a.m. chicago time, well, this is what i'm doing. i'm running like a madman through the streets of my beloved city. in fact, miles 20 through 24 take you right through my neighborhood.

this is either going to be the greatest running achievement of my life thus far or a colossal failure... either way, i'll tell ya all about it and not get too hung up if things don't work out the way i want them to.

HOLLLA!

Ready for "epic"

running means a lot to me. it's my drug, my escape, my happy place. without it holding me up the last couple of years, i'm not sure where i'd be.

and it's a strange sport, this running. i mean, what other sport has its elite athletes toe up on the same start line as amateur joes, weekend warriors and the virginally crowned couch-to-5Kers?

this weekend i will put the exclamation mark on what has been the absolute best 16 weeks of training i've ever gutted through by running the coveted chicago marathon. i'm stoked as hell as this will be the my first marathon since my st. louis letdown back in april, where i ended up injuring myself and shelved for six weeks.

this time i trained smarter. i didn't marry a chart, rather, i listened to my body and pushed it when i could, eased back when i had to, and most of all, i tried to remember that THIS SHIT IS FUN!!!!

and realize as i may that no one really gives a fuck how fast or how slow i run a marathon, the competitor within me is dead set on running sunday's race as fast as i can with all of the effort i can muster, no holding back. that's what running is about to me: seeing how far i can go, seeing what i -- as a mortal human fucking being -- can really push myself to do.

I CAN HARDLY WAIT!!!

my pops is coming to run it too. and so is one of my brothers-in-law. i hate to steal one of those kid-cliched interweb memes to describe the potential, but i cannot resist saying it's gonna be EPIC.

Thinking in the nearer future

a recent goal of mine has been to cash in on my innate need for sleep. for the last year or so, i've actually been thinking about sleep, not just doing it when i have to, but really, seriously thinking about it. and, reasonably speaking, i try to get as much of it as possible.

i know that it is my body's primary response to the vigorous training i've been putting it through (the running, the boxing), but a fine byproduct of always being well rested is a sort of calm about the future that i've never really had before. i feel less stressed out. i feel more grounded in reality.

this is not to say i don't have the usual anxieties anymore (i do) but it is to say that with the extra rest comes what seems like an extra dose of chill-out-edness.

and that's fucking cool, man.

(image via skull swap)

Losing time can be trippy (and fun)

i'm a runner.

i run.

that's what i do.

despite what my job title says, despite my undying devotion to baseball, despite my female form worship, i'm first and foremost: a runner.

and i often tell people that, for me, the worst part about running is that eventually, i have to stop.

but what happens between the time i start and the time i stop is a magic time. i never know what's going to happen. sometimes i figure shit out. sometimes i let my imagination flow. sometimes i get really emotional. and sometimes i just fucking play, like a kid, take off and boom. whatever happens happens.

on sunday, i ran 20 miles with a pace group. i wanted to stay with this fast group for the entire jaunt so i spent several days just thinking about it, prior to the run, preparing my mind (and body) for the heavy task i was going to ask of it. and as i crossed the finish line i looked down at my watch and saw that i had been running for 2 hours and 30 minutes.

and i couldn't remember a fucking thing.

was that... was that... what the fuck was that????

my mind totally blanked for two and a half hours! all i remember is following the guy in front of me, and breathing. often. other than those basics, i had not a single thought the entire time! what a fucking trip!

what a fucking awesome, confusing, badass trip!

huzah!!!

Dream race

the UTMB 103 mile race was held the last weekend in august. i kept tabs on it via the interwebs, thirsty for some video, and when some of it came out, oh boy... i got the willies.

watch this breathtaking video (you may want to click the youtube link and watch it there 'cuz blogspot won't let you see the whole screen for some reason):

that may be the most terrifyingly beautiful terrain i have ever seen. and one day... i am going to run that race.

believe that.

Lip burned

i went running for a few hours on a really sunny day recently and my lips got burned!

in 32 1/2 years i have NEVER had sunburned lips and let me tell you, it has been such a strange feeling that i can't help but laugh at myself. i feel like i've been making out with a jalapeno all fucking day.

but i bought this aloe-based lip balm that gives me that AHHHHHH feeling and i almost want to continuoulsy have lip burn so i can feel that as often as possible.

Box a motherfucker

in looking for a more enjoyable cross training activity to supplement my running than swimming and biking i stumbled upon a groupon for a 2 month membership to a boxing club in my neighborhood.

i have always been curious about boxing, wondering if i could handle something that rigorous, if i could keep up.

well, shit, i can run marathons now so i'm sure i'm fit enough to try.

so i did.

and let me tell ya... it fucking rocks.

i think it's better conditioning than running actually. it builds more endurance, more antidotes for pain. it's more miserable, it smells bloody awful and there's a motherfucker yelling in your face a lot. but at the end of the workout, you wanna hug your trainer for making you feel so bad. it's really quite unexplainable.

and just like with runners, i feel like the boxing community is a more amicable lot than most other clicks. everyone is so nice and so caring and so interested in one another's lives. it makes sense cuz you're doing things that are so awful that you reach out to your peers for support.

the other night before class, i went and watched my trainer spar with a guy who whooped his fucking ass. i mean, my trainer had a cut eye AND a cut lip, blood dripping down his face and he just kept going. never lost his poise. and this was practice. then, after he was done, he taught class for an hour like nothing was wrong.

it hurts so good.

i recommend it for ANYONE. fit or not. if you are fit you ain't seen nothin' yet til you try this and if you aren't fit, you stick with some boxing classes and your ass will get fit quick.

or die.

haha. just kidding you won't die.

probably.

Knowing who you are

one thing i struggle with is being able to identify who i am rather succinctly. i think this harkens back to an older age, but it's always bothered me anyway, not knowing who i am.

we tend to be defined by what we do for a living. he's a banker. she's a chef. he's a bus driver.

i'm a... bookstore manager? that fucking blows. that's not what i wanted to be when i grow up.

so when people ask me what i am i just say "i'm a writer" or "i'm a runner", even though i make zero dollars doing those things.

to some that's cheating, but to me, that's surviving the question without breaking things. i wish i could make a living doing what i love and i'm trying to get there, but it's not easy. if it were easy, everyone would do it, right?

anyway, all the above came to mind after watching the young beat-machine prince, araabMUZIK throw down on his MP. there's no question what this dude is: A BEAT MAKING MASTER.