CIM Marathon Stats

10,000 Stoopwaffles

Stoopwaffles sounds like a Nazi death unit on the Eastern Front. But nothing so dire here. A Stoopwaffle is a confection I was handed post-race. Very tasty. California International Marathon runners hailed from 32 countries and all 50 states. But how many tubs of Vaseline were used? Scroll down for that and more.

Marathon Report: CIM 2022

 

activenorcal.com

Lessons galore awaited me in my 7th marathon. New approaches and techniques had been incorporated into my training, lending uncertainty to the final outcome. Would these new elements cause me to bonk? Blow up? Grimace in the presence of photographers? Here's what happened.

Back in July, I was goofing around on the web instead of working on my book. Ending up on the California International Marathon website, I had a pang of nostalgia. Once, I'd signed up for the same race, intent on qualifying for the  prestigious Boston Marathon. But injuries by the crate load sidelined my training and appeared to end my running career. 

Anyway, 14 years later, I signed up for CIM. My 2022 training commenced with the goal of breaking five hours. But then I went on vacation. My hopes of incorporating training runs with travel fizzled. I lost two weeks.

Back home again, I only had 10 training weeks left. Some running economies would be necessary. Preparing for Surfers Point the previous year, I'd been steamrollered by my 21-mile run. Slow as I was, that distance was practically the same amount of time it would take to run the actual marathon. To keep my legs fresh, I chose to limit my longest run to 16 miles. 

My goals were to finish 26.2 with a smile and only lightly brush the fabled Wall. The smile would have to await circumstances. As for the Wall, I planned on taking electrolyte paste—known as "gu" and also a popular brand of exercise paste—earlier than I normally did and staying well hydrated.

Since rain was forecast for race day, I packed the poor man's rain coat: a 33 gal. trash bag.

Sunday in Sacramento

At 4:45 AM, rain swept the parking lot, drops beading on windshields. Boarding a drafty school bus, I was conveyed with my fellow runners to the start-line near Folsom Prison. CIM sure didn't skimp on Porto-Potties. I was able to locate one without too much hopping around. There were almost 9k runners waiting in the drizzle for the the race to start. I figured to hang out in the back, go out slow for the first few miles, than dial up the pace, hitting the second half of the race with more zip. I'd make up the time and bust five hours like dropping a dish on bricks. 

Loudspeaker banter from someone, then a woman sang "The Star-Spangled Banner," then the race began. Seventeen and a half minutes later, I crossed the timing mat. Downhill, then up. That would be the pattern for most of the race. You run a little different going uphill, conserving your energy, then drop your arms and let your legs swing back on the downhill. These weren't steep hills, nothing like what I trained on, but they grew monotonous. 

activenorcal.com

Pretty green country with farms and horses, and people outside in lawn chairs. "You're almost there," yelled someone on the second mile. No one laughed, not even the man who said it.

I smiled at people cheering. ("You've got this.") It was a good way to pump up my own energy. But in the course of things, I let my pace lapse. By around seven miles, I realized I needed to hustle. As we ran through suburban Sacramento, past high school cheerleaders, taiko drummers, djs spinning techo mixes, musicians and vocalists, I sped up. By around the 13.1 mile mark, I was closing in on goal pace.

"It Could Be Worse," said a homemade sign, "You Could Be at Work." The overcast sky parted and we ran under a clean polished blue sky. Wadding up my "raincoat", I jammed it into a trash bag held by a teenage dude. "Watch," I said, "It'll rain now." He snorted in amusement.

Too much water; that's what my stomach said. I felt bloated. At mile 18, I couldn't touch another Gu. I also noticed that walking ached almost as much running. Between miles 21 and 22, we ascended a bridge over the American River. Coming down the other side, a man yelled, "You're on the fast part now."

Really? My legs felt as heavy as iron girders. As we entered the Sacramento city limits, a woman checked her cell phone and cried, "86.6 percent of runners have already finished." She seemed delighted to convey the information, as if responding to popular curiosity. The only runner I cared about was me. Dark clouds drifted overhead.

Best message of the day was held up by a boy of around nine. His homemade sign read: "This is the worst parade I've ever seen."

While I was holding pace, I still hadn't made up lost time. At mile 23, I took off, giving it all I had left. 

Grit-your-teeth time. Everything hurt. My feet burned as if running on lava. I hoped for an injury so I could walk in. 

At mile 24, the rain resumed. I was grimacing for all to see, praying the finish line would rush forward to meet me.

Then we were in downtown Sacramento. The rain eased off. The finish line was just past a jigsaw beyond the 26 mile sign. Straight then left. My wife Joy waved from the sideline. "See you up ahead," I called. Then the course hung a left dogleg and the finish line awaited 

A woman passed me. An odd hobbling man passed me. To break five hours, I needed afterburners like a Titan rocket.

Wobbling over the finish line, I checked my time: missed the goal by 24 seconds.

And So?

Clearly, I should've picked up the pace sooner. I tended to weave across the course, wasting even more time. Still, I bettered my last marathon by 22 minutes. I also discovered that 16 miles is just fine for the longest of the long training runs. I didn't smile at the end, but I didn't suffer from a lack of electrolytes. I felt relatively good.

You race like you train. I trained to finish and did. If I want an afterburner, then I need to improve my chi running form, strengthen my core muscles, and set aside a dedicated running day for speed. I also need to practice marathon pace when my legs are heavy.

As we entered Christmastime, I'll allow my body rest for the next few weeks. But I'm anxious for the next marathon. Perhaps Los Angeles? Starting January 1st, I'll have a whole 11 weeks to train.

CIM Post Marker

 

A place holder until I can write up my notes on training and the race.

Famous People Born on My Birthday v. 8

 Birthday Post Redux

Having completed a marathon, I spent this year writing and marketing a book on my journey to the start line. I also trained for, and completed, a second marathon just last Sunday. Hence, my b-day post is late. A recap will be up shortly. (No book for this race. Well, maybe an audio book.) Having reached the age of 70, I may hire a town car for my next marathon. Delighted to enter a new decade. 

These people were also born on December 5th. How many have you heard of? Here's a more mature list. Enjoy productive lives!

In no particular order.:

1. Martin Van Buren - b. Dec. 5, 1782

2. George Armstrong Custer - b. Dec. 5, 1839

3. Walt Disney - b. Dec. 5, 1901

4. John P. McCann - b. Dec. 5, 1952

1. Martin Van Buren succeeded greatly in becoming the 8th President of the United States but was hardly remembered even in his own day. He had a large bull frog stuffed and used as an ink well in the White House. However President Taft later sat on it by accident and they had to throw the thing out. That's about it.

2. George Armstrong Custer succeeded greatly as a soldier in the Civil War but had a mixed record fighting Indians. (1-1-2, I think.) He is best remembered for his  spectacular fail at the Battle of the  Little Big Horn. At first, everything was going well; then it all fell apart under an Indian tsunami. In later years, Custer had a park named after him as well as a monument and a movie where his part was played by Errol Flynn. That's a whole lot more than Van Buren ever got.

3. Walt Disney succeeded greatly in animation, a pioneer in the field, creator of iconic characters—but not the word 'iconic' which has been seized upon by junior execs.—established Disney studios and Disneyland and is fondly remembered to this day. Nonetheless his body is frozen in a vault beneath Disney's Burbank lot and should Walt be reanimated and start making decisions again it could effect his legacy.

4. John P. McCann was greatly successful as a Hollywood atmosphere player. McCann was the ship-board stand-in for a Canadian actor portraying Errol Flynn in My Wicked, Wicked Ways. In addition, he is visible catching Dennis Quaid's jacket at around 1:19 in a clip from  Great Balls of Fire.
More successful in animation, McCann created the non-iconic character of The Huntsman. For the next fifteen years, he piggy-backed onto as many successful shows as his friends would allow. While the record is still being written, outsiders agree that McCann will be remembered by Bank of America and several other creditors who might reasonably feel aggrieved should he pass from the scene within the next several months without attending to the balance of his debts.

Images: whitehouse.gov, Parcbench, fold3

Top 100 TV Theme Songs

 

According to Rolling Stone. But there's plenty of nostalgia for all ages. 

Marathon Countdown

rt.com

Very little on the running front lately. I'm still depressed over the Dutchman's death and don't feel like blogging or Tweeting or working on my next book. I look for reasons not to do anything. But the marathon approaches this Sunday and I'm not so bummed out that I'd eat the race fee, hotel room, or months of training.

My goal remains to once again break five hours. Last year's Surfers Point race only counted a hundred or so marathon runners. Lots of elbow room. The CIM sports around 10k. That means close contact with my fellow humans in the first few miles. So I've factored that in as an asset to slow me down when every instinct cries, "Take off!"

Despite my grief, the race must go on. As Auden said in Musee des Beaux Arts: 

"About suffering they were never wrong,

The Old Masters: how well they understood

Its human position; how it takes place

While someone else is eating or opening a window or just

walking dully along;"

Based Black Friday/Cyber Monday Book Sale

 Back Again and Hungry for the Eyes of Readers

@AetherCzar

Yes, Hans Schanz, scientist and author, once again promotes free or .99 ebooks. Perfect for those holiday moments before the tryptophan kicks in. Choose sci-fi, fantasy, military sci fi, dystopian fiction or browse a selection of non-fiction including my very own Jury Doody. 

Go now, gather up these deals, and enjoy a fine read. At some point, the relatives will arrive and you can forget peace and quiet. 

So Long, Dave "Dutch" Heckman

Courtesy Angie Heckman

"Just Round the Corner"

He forgot more things than most people ever learned. 

Emmy Award-winning cameraman, passionate photographer, author and a brilliant funny guy, Dave Heckman passed away last week in Mar Vista, California, aged 71. We met in a bar across the street from KTLA back in 1979, later living in the same apartment building. When Dave bought a home in Hollywood, I moved into a guest house above the garage. 

Around 1986, he decided he wanted a nickname. For the next year or so, Heckman would correct people calling him 'Dave,' insisting he be referred to as 'Dutch.' In time, Dutch succeeded in giving himself a nickname on his own terms.

As Kurt Vonnegut might have said, "And so it went."

Below awaits a Heckman sampler. It's hard to believe there will be no more of Dave's hilarious acerbic comments. But plenty old ones remain.

Undistilled Heckman

What better eulogist than the Dutchman himself?

2007 - 2009:  Products of a Diseased Mind blog

Distilled Heckman

Write Enough! blog posts either mentioning Dave or featuring his writings.

2006: Getting Around with a Leg Cast

2007: The Value of Nothing

 Excerpt from The Value of Nothing

2008: 27 Years Ago

Time and Mrs. Murphy

2012: The Riots Recalled

The Dutchman Recalls the Riots

2019: Stalinfest

The Dutch/D G Heckman Reviews

If you miss Dave's outrageous humor, look no further than his books.

2014 Appalling Yarns

2017 Dreadful Outcomes

My wife, Joy, sent me the passage below. When it comes to the memory of Dave "Dutch" Heckman, I will be guided by this soothing wisdom:

Coyotes on the Fairway

sharetheoutdoors.com

Three of them. Rain kept away all by the most fanatic golfers. Same for runners as I had the trails to myself. But glancing over toward theWilson-Harding golf course in the early afternoon, I spotted a trio of coyotes, all with their heads down, still as oil paintings. Splashing past, I figured they were waiting for rain water to force up some gophers. But there have been a lot of coyotes out and about lately. Perhaps LA DA George Gascon releases them per his cashless bale ways. Feral bastard; same for the coyotes.

Speaking of running, my California International Marathon arrives the first Sunday of December. My training has been erratic, but I'm standing strong on my 4:59 finish. This training cycle, my longest run will be 16 miles. Because I'm so darn slow, a run of 20 miles ala last year takes almost as much time as the marathon itself. The body takes a beating and needs more time to recover. And since the benefits of long slow distance wane around three to three and a half hours, I'm game to discover the benefits of running less. (Should they exist.)

This time last year I was aglow from Surfers Point.

Let's see what kind of glow awaits in Sacramento.

Little Book Reviewed on Bookshine and Readbows

 

Available in many places.

A blast from back-in-the-day as book review blog Bookshine and Readbows passed judgement on my New Age satire, The Little Book of Big Enlightenment. Inside its electronic pages, gurus, marketers, and the author battle over the true meaning of the Eckhardt Tolle-like musings of visionary Lompoc Tollhaus. Or, as Bookshine and Readbows remarked:

"Don't expect to find any genuine enlightenment . . . but to instead be entertained by a rollicking riot of flim-flam, shicanery and bickery in-fighting . . . ."

Find the Little Book in most spots where fine ebooks are sold.

Falling While Running v.2

 

iconscout.com

Why Do You Do That?

Not by choice, but I'm old and possess hobbit-like feet without all the hair, and was running in thick Hokka trainers that cut me off from the ground. Anyway, while running ten miles yesterday on the rocky trails leading into the Angeles National Forest, I hit a rock and fell.

This happens once or twice a training session and I've gotten better at dealing with it. First of all, I don't fight the fall and avoid tensing up. Second, I perform a half-roll while in motion. This mitigates the scrapping away of flesh and the impact of striking the ground. Unlike March where I rolled into chaparral,  this time I was unmarred. Of course, wearing excessive sun block, my legs were breaded with dirt.

The fall was witnessed by three people and two dogs. A woman asked, "Are you all right? Did you hit a rock?"

I replied, "The only thing hurt is my dignity."

She smiled.

A couple asked, "Are you all right?"

I said, "Only my pride was damaged."

They smiled the weak grin of the uncertain.

All that aside, training continues for the California International Marathon, taking place the day before my birthday. The longest runs will take place over the next two months. I'm going to experiment with limiting my long runs to no more than three and a half hours. Recent info informs me that any time on my feet more than that won't help my overall aerobics. It also takes more time to recover. Last year's 21-miler was rough. Perhaps I can do less with more. 

Literary Titan Interview with Author JP Mac

 

assignment point

What's the next step when life crumbles on all fronts but one?

And then the last front falls with the rest.

A brief interview with Literary Titan explores my reaction to extreme misfortune as chronicled in How to Run a Marathon in 13 Years.

Recently visited Tennessee and am growing more comfortable spelling the state name in various posts. More on the trip soon,

9/11 Recalled 2022

K called from Florida, "Planes crashed into the World Trade Center and one of the towers just fell." Unemployed in Los Angeles and half asleep at 7:30 AM, I shuffled downstairs to the TV, past Joy as she prepared for work. At first, all I saw was a dirty cloud obscuring southern Manhattan. Then a stunned announcer said the second tower had just collapsed. Joy joined me, work forgotten as we learned of the attack.

Other friends phoned throughout the day. Paul Rugg speculated about the pilots of the doomed aircraft, certain they weren't Americans forced to crash. TJ, a Vietnam vet, was incensed at the footage of jubilant Palestinians with their candy and AK-47s. He wished he could gift them with a nice buttering of napalm. In a grim mood, I agreed.

Watching TV and power-chewing Nicorette, I mostly felt numb — except when the subject was jumpers. Then I felt horror. Go to work, sip coffee, joke with your pals, then decide whether you'll suffocate, burn alive, or leap a quarter mile to certain death. Questions of etiquette arise: jump solo or hold hands with a co-worker? Perhaps several of you link arms and form a chain, finding courage in numbers. Or do you clutch a table cloth and step into the air, desperately hoping it slows your fall?



The journey takes ten seconds.


Air velocity rips away your shoes.


You explode on impact.


I will always be haunted by the jumpers of 9/11.


Oceans of paper were blasted from the towers, filling the New York sky like the Devil's ticker tape. Invoices and wedding invitations floated down to gray sidewalks.

My friend Cathy, who worked in D.C., reported chaos as the government sent everyone home at once following the Pentagon attack. One jammed intersection turned scary as a man leaped out of an SUV brandishing a pistol and attempting to direct traffic.

Being murdered is not a heroic act, though it can be. Flight 93 passengers fought back and died, saving many more in their sacrifice. North Tower Port Authority employees rescued over 70 people before perishing.


There were many heroes that day.

My sister Mary Pat and I had dinner at a coffee shop. She was passing through town, leaving a job in Mountain View, CA to return to Phoenix. Depressed by the day's events, our meal was not jolly.

Later, Joy tried to give blood, but the hospital was overwhelmed with donations and refused.

Vulnerability, grief, dismay, anger.

Such a beautiful morning with a sky so blue.

(Photos from: Little Green Footballs.)

Repost: Sept. 11, 2008

Update: Strange to reread this. TJ died in 2009 and K passed away just over a year ago. My wife, Joy, and I are doing well, as is Paul Rugg who now rides the train. 

Repost: Sept. 11, 2013

Update: I had cancer surgery last year, but recovered. My wife is doing well and my sister battles her own health woes. I have not heard from my friend Cathy in a few years.  Paul Rugg continues riding the train in addition to being a voice over machine.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2015

Update: Paul Rugg's daughter was not quite two years old on 9/11/01. Now she is a freshmen in college. I have retired from TV animation writing, though, as stated elsewhere, I find retirement to be indistinguishable from unemployment. (Save for a small annuity.) And very soon, I shall ride the train to see my sister. (Explanatory post t/k.)

Repost: Sept. 11, 2017

Update: Ten years have passed since I composed this post, 17 years since the incident. Alas, the greatest hit to our nation continues to be a colossal security apparatus that can't seem to function without monitoring everyone's communications, then lying about it. I'd rather not comment on airport theater. Still, my wife remains gainfully employed and I'm racing to complete a dystopian thriller by Christmas. Amidst the great events, the little things carry us forward.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2018

Update: About to publish a softcover version of my prostate book. Meanwhile the Afghanistan Forever War continues. I refuse to believe that for almost 20 years, there's been no better way of fighting the Taliban than sending billions to Pakistan to provide hiding places for them while they infiltrate Afghan government forces and assassinate our advisors. The Byzantine Empire lasted over a thousand years battling multiple enemies on different fronts, employing a combination of diplomacy military prowess, and strategic alliances. With the entrenched, consequence-proof dimwits we have infesting Washington D.C., we'll probably end up surrendering to the Taliban.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2019

Update: How odd to stand on the threshold of twenty years. Given the riots and chaos of the pandemic, the blithering repose of local government re. small-business-killing lockdowns, the event is passing with barely a mention. If I hadn't spotted a NatGeo special on the Twin Towers, I might've forgotten myself. Interesting health issue, with cataract surgery, an upcoming new crown—for a tooth—and the results of a biopsy for skin cancer. Paul Rugg works on a Henson TV show, and his daughter nears the end of her undergrad studies. My sister continues on with NPR in the unburned portion of the Pacific Northwest. I will publish a book of my short stories by Christmas. Joy's work will soon restore her full pay, slashed during the lockdowns. Since South Dakota never locked down at all, shouldn't their population be deader than the Sioux at Wounded Knee? Not all experts are experts.  

Repost: Sept. 11, 2020

Update: 

What I wrote sarcastically in 2019 came true. A devastating mortifying defeat. 

Repost: Sept. 11, 2021

Update: Paul Rugg's daughter was recently married. Paul and his wife are moving to Virginia to be somewhat near her. I've just finished a book on my thirteen-year journey to run a marathon and am preparing for a trip to Tennessee. Perhaps I'll also depart from the once Golden State, a large garbage can with palm trees.

Repost: Sept. 11, 2022

 

Marathon Book #1

 Mine is on the far left in the number one slot. How to Run a Marathon in 13 Years remains discounted through Sept. 19. After that, the ebook will no longer sell for under a dollar, but bloat up like everything else.