The Mind at Work During a Half-Marathon

I ran a half marathon (13.1 miles) recently. This wasn’t really a milestone in my life, I have probably completed 9-10 of these at this point. One thing that I did this time is try to remember my thoughts as I progressed through the run; I tried to keep things clean for the most part, but there are probably a few disturbing and or creepy thoughts that found their way into the narrative below.

• Start. A great day for a run! Overcast, 70 degrees, a mild wind. I ate a decent breakfast, a double helping of organic maple and brown sugar oatmeal and a Quest bar. I have been drinking water throughout the morning. I don’t bring water on me during the run, I will just depend on the course water stops. There aren’t a lot of people here, less than 600, so maybe I could place in the top 3 in my age group and get some sort of trinket. I really need to go to the bathroom, as I always do shortly before a substantial race, and there are a series of long lines at each set of porta-johns. Hasn’t anyone ever heard of the “queuing theory”? You have a single line that feeds all of the johns, it is quick and efficient, instead of having 15 different lines where you are subject to wait for people that may use it for longer durations. Basic statistics should be a requirement for everyone, all lines could be optimized. I jog over to the starting area, moving toward the front, maybe 10 yards back. Close to where I am lining up, a pacesetter has the 1:40 finish sign, which is a little beyond my capabilities, but only by a few minutes, so it will do. Do I have my gear set up? My Digifit app is running that connects via Bluetooth to my heart rate monitor on my wrist. Now switch over to Nike+ and get that ready. Why do I have 2 apps going at once? It makes no sense, but I am a data hoarder and like both apps, even though there is certainly a battery life cost. 90 seconds to start. I’m doing a little stretching, a little bouncing around. My sunglasses, compression socks, compression sleeves, shorts, earphones, shoelaces, and phone case are all adjusted. The race starts, I start the Nike+ app, everything is functioning, and the crowd is moving.
• Mile 1. There isn’t a cluster at the beginning, so my actual race time and chip time will not vary. People are spreading out, and most people seem to have lined up according to his/her capabilities, so I’m not forced to run around slower people. Sometimes, inexplicably, a slow runner will line up at the very start, and then force hundreds of people to go around them, which is inconsiderate. The race goes through a large amusement park in the midwest, which is great because it is distracting, but bad because there are a lot of twists and turns. The parking lot leading up to the park is full of puddles, as it rained heavily throughout the night, so people are attempting to avoid them while avoiding running into each other. The park is eerie when it is largely empty like this. The Nike+ voice announces my pace, which is way too fast and unsustainable over 13.1 miles, but that is the norm. My HR is normal. The beginning of a race is mentally grueling, with so many miles ahead. I tell myself that I am not going to push things, but rather enjoy the run. That is a lie I usually tell myself whenever I run.
• Mile 2. I pass the 1st water stop, no need, if you have hydrated properly, you shouldn’t need to drink water this early. A few people pass me, which always pisses me off, especially if female or if I suspect that it is a male in my age group. There is a lot of separation between runners already, so there is little jockeying for position. Some of the cone placement is confusing, but I seem to be on track. My pace has slipped by 20 seconds for the 2nd mile, so I’m hovering around where I expect to finish, at about 7:45 minute miles on average. Mudvayne is performing some motivational running music, but it is a little early.
• Mile 3. The run through the park is concluding with a nice straightaway. There are a few supporters, but not many. I give them my usual “thumbs up”. I have tried to get away from being the stone-faced, serious runner and become more interactive. If someone takes the time to cheer for me, the least I can do is politely acknowledge them. A group of three female runners in their 30s passes me, one of whom looks amazing in a sports bra and boy-shorts. The battle against gravity is real, but at her age, she is winning impressively; of course she will lose the war at some point, but why worry about that now? The view distracts me for a while until they put some more distance between us. Only one quarter of the race is completed, how depressing. The Deftones scream in my ears, which makes things better, I’m starting to need some motivation. I don’t feel like I actually need water, but mentally, a quick sip is sometimes helpful, so I accept a cup. The volunteers are very friendly, I feel a little guilty about tossing my empty cup in the grass, but that is the process. Thanks for picking up my litter, volunteers. A hyper 30-something year old guy with a headband and a gray running outfit blows past me – I have a feeling that I will see him again at some point, I think he is over-extending himself this early.
• Mile 4. I am now out of the park and onto the causeway connecting it to land. This is an interesting part of the course, it is a four lane street with the lake on either side. This is where the terrain ascends and we are going uphill, and then downhill after almost a mile. This is a little demoralizing, because the course is an “out and back”, and I will be facing this hill again at the end of the race. 9 miles to go, or 3 more 5ks. This reasoning is not inspiring. Static X is along for this portion of the run. My Nike+ app mileage is not correlating to the mile markers, with the app logging about .2 miles less.
• Mile 5. The end of the causeway approaches. This is where we turn west and start jogging toward a “downtown” area, such as it is which isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. The music is extremely helpful and distracting, 30 Seconds to Mars snuck into the shuffle, which is okay. The area is completely barren of spectators; several courses that I have ran over the years have been lined with supporters, and this isn’t one of them. Maybe people that reside outside of an amusement park don’t give a rat’s about the tourists in general, let alone a bunch of idiots torturing themselves by running long street races wearing neon, pastels, and knee-socks. To the north you can see the larger rides from the park and the lake, it is very picturesque. A few people pass me, including a young couple in their 20s, which is annoying. This water stop has Powerade, refreshing!
• Mile 6. Traffic is almost nonexistent. I give a nod to the police officers that are there to control things, even though there is little to control. It is probably a sweet overtime gig for them on a Sunday morning. We are continuing to run the opposite direction of the start/finish line, which weighs on me for some reason. I want to stop running, and yet I’m moving further and further away from the place where I can stop running. I am nearly half-way finished, with the equivalent of a 10k (6.2 miles) left. It seems like this should cheer me up, but it doesn’t. The humidity is high, and my legs are feeling heavy. Maybe I should have rested yesterday instead of walking around the park chasing my kids for hours. The houses are all small structures build around the immediate post-WW II era. I wonder what most of these residents do for a living, and if they ever go to the amusement park anymore. They probably are just counting the days until late fall when the park closes for the winter and all of the annoying tourists are gone. Ahead someone is walking/running. Yeah, it is the herky-jerky guy in gray that rambled past me around mile 3, who burned himself out. Dude, this race is a (half) marathon, not a sprint, literally. The app mileage is now .3 behind the course markers.

• Mile 7. The couple that passed me jog over to the sidewalk, she has some sort of cramp. I pass them with a degree of satisfaction for some reason, even though it isn’t rational. Oohh, a yacht club, how posh! I always picture Thurston Howell III in his captain’s hat hanging out and drinking 40 year old single malt Scotch at these types of places. I did some math earlier and calculated the turnaround to be at the mile 8 marker (since 3 miles of the route were through the park and the race ends short of the park, 13.1 – 3 = 10.1, divided by 2) which his approaching. If I can just get to where the course is bringing me back east again my morale will improve. It is hard to think about 5 more miles of this. Why not just quit and walk, who cares, what do I have to prove? Nothing, and yet that is unthinkable. A woman with a stroller and a toddler are all alone on a street corner, waiting for someone to cheer on. I bypass the water stop. The fast runners are approaching from the opposite direction, having passed the turnaround. A short stocky guy that does not look like the typical lean, lanky runner is leading, which is interesting. I try to note people my own age, and see a few, figuring my top 3 finish is not going to happen. The young couple once again pass me, and I silently curse them. I hate running. Why am I doing this? Bike racing may be fun, I can just coast when I get tired, and I can wear spectacularly colored spandex and an oblong helmet…never mind.
• Mile 8. At last, the turnaround is approaching. The exhausted part of me wishes I could somehow turn around early, but cheating would be ridiculous. I reach the turnaround, grab a cup of Powerade, and start getting a second wind. My HRM reads a lower heartbeat, and I pick up my pace a little. Up ahead, I see a guy with Old English lettering on the back of his arms that blew past me at about mile 3 running with…is it possible…yes, the girl from the park that was a part of a trio that passed me, the one in gray with the great ass! What a gift this is. My head starts to formulate the chain of events that brought these two together– the young fast guy runs, sees the stray hot girl that was ditched by her girlfriends, slows down to chat, and decides to forego his fast finish to run with her the remainder of the race. I’m sure she will ditch him at the end, but who knows? This is possibly a metaphor for relationships in general. I approach and then pass them over the course of about .75 miles. I once again lament the loss of the view, but enjoy passing the younger, faster guy. I am approaching the 9 mile mark, which will leave me with just a 4 miles to run. This still kind of sucks, as there have been times when 5ks seem long. But realistically, that is no more than 32 minutes of running left, not bad. The slower runners are heading in the opposite direction, so people watching is passing the time, along with Soundgarden discussing how they are going to break their rusty chains and run. Indeed. I make random observations about my fellow racers. This is almost entirely a white person’s race, and within that, a 20-30 year old’s race, with more females than males. I analyze the attire, question some gear, admire others, question some people’s dietary preparations – honestly, I can’t imagine doing this while fat, but I applaud the effort. I pass a guy in an Iron Man costume, which made me happy for some reason.
• Mile 9. I glance behind me, and there is no one close enough to overtake me for some distance. I don’t know why this matters. I have overtaken a few people, as I pass the same non-noteworthy terrain for the second time. Rain falls briefly, but nothing significant, and it actually refreshes me. 311 encourages me to come original, and it keeps things moving along. I pass a guy holding his phone playing loudly, perhaps he forgot his earbuds? I didn’t turn my music down to take in his music selection, because I really don’t care, it probably sucks. The running app is now .4 miles behind the course.
• Mile 10. Uggh, I thought I would be hitting the causeway soon, but the course just seems to go on and on. Some people have closed the gap and passed me, but they are younger and it doesn’t bother me (much). The last of the runners in the opposite direction passes by, and there are actually people who walk the entire course. A heavy woman with a red pacer sign reading “sweeper” walks along the lonely course, with 7 or 8 more miles to go.
• Mile 11. We finally take the left turn north onto the causeway. People are starting to make moves to finish faster. There is only two miles to go, which still seems like a monumental distance. A song comes on that I don’t like, I think it was Five Finger Death Punch, but I am unable to forward past it, as I don’t want to mess around with the phone and possibly reset my running apps.
• Mile 12. To my left, I feel the presence of someone, and then a guy with a salt-and-pepper beard passes me. Is he in my age group? I think he is a little older. But what if he is my age and bumps me out of third? Not that I know I’m in third, or have any idea whatsoever where I stand. So I keep up with him, remaining a few feet back. Taproot comes on, and like the songs says, I hate myself sometimes I love myself, and it inspires me, so that was the jolt I needed. There was also a 10k race which started after the half marathon, which did their turnaround at our Mile 3, so there are walkers who don’t give a fuck about the half-marathon, and are walking 3-4 deep in some instances, so we are running around them as best as we can. Running/walking etiquette can never be assumed. We are reaching the only hill again, and I overtake graybeard and put some distance between us. Then up ahead I notice the couple that has passed me twice, and they are falling back a little. I think I can take them! I know that the guy could easily run faster, but like a good significant other, he has hung back with his partner the entire race. I pass them. We are approaching the parking lot of the park, where the race ends. A coned route weaves through the lot (filled with vehicles with “13.1” and “26.2” bumper stickers), and it is a little confusing. I can’t really see the finish line, which I should be able to, because it is a giant, colorful, inflatable arch surrounded by flags. I refuse to get discouraged, because Korn is sorrowfully blasting the negativity out of me. I hear footsteps approaching. The young couple is picking it up. The guy seems indifferent, but I think his girlfriend is pissed that I passed them. I pass a guy that looked pretty athletic but was struggling, I’m guessing he has cramps or something.
• Mile 13. The girl from the young couple and I are racing neck and neck. She is determined to beat me, but I won’t relent. I hear my name being called by the announcer, a nice, motivating feature of the race. We are yards from the finish line and she surges ahead, and I think I may have eased up a little. We basically cross the line together, maybe she beat me. I look up at her but she doesn’t look at me, I guess her competitive side won’t allow a sportswomanlike nod. A nice, heavy medal is placed around my neck. I walk around with my arms behind my head like I’m surrendering to the police, trying to catch my breath. I find a bottled water and a chocolate milk, drink half of the chocolate milk, throw it out, and then drink water. I feel pretty good, my time is about what I expected, although my GPS distance is .4 off of the 13.1, stating that I only ran 12.7 miles. I hear others making the same observation. My fitness app reveals that I have burned 1,600 calories. These are all calories that I will delightfully eat-back, so my day is looking promising, at least in terms of not caring how much I eat. Overall I’m pleased with my effort and the experience. The pain and the annoyances are already starting fade from my memory.  I walk over to a kiosk, punch in my bib number, and check my time.  1:41, 5th place in my age group.  Sigh, just 2 places out of winning a commemorative drinking glass.

Running is amazing, I’m so thankful to be able to do this, on both a physical and mental level, and I want to be participating in these events for the rest of my life.  It isn’t even 9am yet and I have traveled farther on foot than most people will for the entire day, maybe even days. It is more than just the running aspect of it, it is being surrounded by healthy, positive people, the general lack of pretense and fakery; it is just individually and collectively being in motion in an attempt to achieve the same goal, which is met by most and immediately celebrated.  We all suffered together, we all doubted ourselves at times, and yet we all kept moving forward.  I will be signing up for another race soon, probably a few months in the future.

When you allow your “children” to attack

As a runner, I have had countless experiences with bad pet owners. Many of the times I never actually meet the pet owners, just the fallout from their bad ownership, their beloved pets. At best, the encounter entails being barked by a dog in a yard that is restrained by the owner at the last minute, and at worst, a dog flat out pursues me, snarling and growling, intending to harm me.

Recently a dog came about 6 inches from getting smoked by a passing car, as it was so focused on getting a piece of me that it crossed into traffic. A few months ago, when I was out on a neighborhood bike ride with my two young kids, an old German Shepherd came charging out of his garage and bounded toward us. I hopped off my bike and thought “alright kids, enjoy watching your dad get mauled by a large dog as I attempt to protect you, this will make for a wonderful childhood memory”. Luckily an alert neighbor called out to the beast and jogged over, grabbing ahold of its collar, while cheerfully assuring me that the snarling dog was very friendly and just loved kids. Sure, just like every other dog that takes a bite out of strangers. I suppose I need to consider carrying a weapon when I’m out in Mayberry on a bike ride.

The death of responsible pet ownership seems to have coincided with the death of responsible parenting. I have acquaintances on social media that consider their pets children. In many cases, these people are unable or unwilling to have kids, so I get it. There are countless pictures and videos posted of animals doing something cute, silly, or charming. Sometimes they are actually dressed in clothes, like furry little kids. Sometimes they are checked-in at an expensive groomer or a 5 star kennel / spa where they are pampered for the weekend while their “parents” are out of town. I have seen dogs incorporated into weddings.

As a dog lover, having grew up with dogs and owned a wonderful dog as an adult, I have no problem with any of this. I understand the strong feelings people have towards their pets. Although I never pretended that my dog was a human being, I loved him a great deal and took great care of them. Part of that care entailed training them not to intimidate and / or hurt people.

The dog that I owned was a gorgeous Doberman, an over-sized rust and tan that weighed 110 lbs. Even though I met his parents, had certified pedigree papers, and knew he was a purebred Dobe, I swore that he was part Rottweiler because he was so enormous. Understanding that he was going to be a huge dog (witnessing him clumsily trying to maneuver his oversized paws as a puppy) and a breed that had an aggressive reputation, I enrolled him in obedience school as soon as soon as he was old enough. I spent hours with him at the school, as well as additional hours on my own training him. Beyond enforcing general obedience, I also never fed him table scraps, did not allow him to beg, and did not allow him to sleep in the same bed with me (to be fair, I also impose these same rules upon my kids).

So once my dog was fully grown, he was well behaved. He didn’t drag me down the street when I walked him, he didn’t rear up like a wild horse when we passed others on the sidewalk, and he didn’t nearly choke himself to death trying to interact with other dogs. He really didn’t need a leash, because he stuck close by me when we went out and understood what the word “heel” meant. And yet he was always leashed, every single time. He never chased another human being or animal. He never ran into traffic. He never snarled or snapped at people. I never put his leash in the hands of someone that couldn’t control him if, by some chance, he decided to bolt (unlike the owner of that Golden Retriever who let his child walk it, with the dog ripping the leash out of the child’s hand when the dog decided it didn’t appreciate me running down his street).

I’m not sharing all of this to brag about what a wonderful pet owner I was. I am sharing this because I was merely a pet owner who was meeting the minimal standards of pet ownership – training a dog that did not inconvenience or endanger others. If the effort I put into training him seems unusual, that is indicative of how far our standards of good pet ownership have fallen. I invested hundreds of dollars buying him and thousands feeding and caring for him throughout his 10 years of life, so investing a comparatively small amount of money and effort into making him a good dog was commonsensical.

Beyond protecting the public, there is also another important reason for training him; my dog deserved it. He deserved to have the pride of being a good dog. He deserved to have people admire him for being a good dog. People loved him and wanted to be around him. Friends and family were happy to babysit him. The kennel employees enjoyed watching him for the weekend when I had to board him, because he didn’t present them with any problems. Therefore, he was almost universally treated kindly. All dogs deserve this kindness.

Beyond the safety aspects, you should want your animal to be loved, and not simply tolerated because your friends and family care about you. A well-behaved pet will simply have a happier life. We have all dealt with the misbehaving dog of an acquaintance, and suppressed the urge to give it a little push or kick when the owner left the room, following an uncomfortable duration where it tried licking your hands and face over and over or put its head in your lap to beg for food while you are attempting to eat.

Raising an undisciplined dog does not benefit anyone, especially the pet. Allowing it to run free puts the pet in peril, and can result in the pet getting injured by a startled stranger, attacked by another animal, hit by a car, or otherwise hurt in some other way is cruel. Your dog deserves better and you can’t expect an animal to train itself. You took on the responsibility so own up to it.