Strength with Balls

   Let’s face it, we runners are not known for our great upper body strength. Most of us would probably lose an arm wrestling match with Pee-Wee Herman. If this is a source of pride for you, by all means continue with your current routine.

   If however, you want to improve your upper body strength, but feel you’re crunched for time I’m here with a suggestion. The exercise below is, I feel, one of the best and most timesaving moves there is. If you are currently doing no strength training, I believe by just adding this every other day you will notice significant improvements in your strength and running.

  

   As always, consult your doctor before starting any routine. Do three or four sets of ten. If you can’t do ten, try less. As the weeks progress add more reps. After a month or so challenge Pee-Wee to a rematch.

Time to Run

   We’re all busy. With work, family, friends, and your honey-do list demanding so much of your time, how do you fit in a run? I have an idea. There’s a black hole in your house right now. Its gravitational pull is sucking your precious time away. It’s your TV. You’ve got to get rid of that sucker.

   Hopefully you didn’t just have a heart attack. I know you’re wondering how you can possibly live without knowing who the next Idol or Survivor is, or which nasty little vampire is doing what to whom, trust me, you will survive. I’m sure you’ll suffer some withdrawal symptoms, but in the end you’ll feel much better.

   I wouldn’t tell you to do something I wouldn’t do myself. Pictured here is my TV sitting on the curb in front of my apartment. I’m not saying you have to throw yours away, you could give it to someone else, preferably someone you dislike. Are you feeling better about getting rid of it yet?

   Just think about all the time you and your family waste in front of the TV. I know it’s frightening to think about how you’ll spend all that extra time you would have, maybe you could actually spend quality time with your loved ones, or have a real conversation with Junior. Or you could use that time to work towards a running goal.

   Plus, if your TV is a dinosaur like mine, you can count carrying it to the curb as your strength training for the day (Lift with your legs).   

Ten Mile Hurt, Part 2 of 2

      Sunday morning had arrived. I stood outside Andy's house at 5:45 a.m. with butterflies in my stomach in my finest cotton t-shirt, basketball shorts, cotton socks, and three year old running shoes. I was ready to do this thing, I knocked on the door.
  
   Andy came out and greeted me. We did a few stretches, or what I called stretches. I took a deep breath and reached for my toes, I made it to my shins. Just like that, without any grand ceremony we were off.
  
   We started out easy, it felt great to be out so early and getting to watch the sun come up as we ran. Like most Florida mornings it was so humid you could feel the dampness in the air. I had already broken into a sweat from the attempted toe touch, now only a few minutes in I could feel the sweat starting to pour. Once my muscles were warmed up and my stride evened out it seemed almost effortless. That moment was brief.

   About five miles into the run we were near the local community college so we decided to stop for some water. By this point my cotton t-shirt was soaked through and my shoes felt like wet sponges. It was at this point Andy informed me that our pace had been a little fast and we should slow it down. Hearing that was one of those rare moments you felt you could hug a man. Then he said we were at the halfway point and all that warm fuzzy feeling went away.

   It felt better to run at the slower pace, but I hadn't forgotten he said we were only halfway. I did the math pretty quick in my head. Ten miles. I wasn't going to make it, someone was going to find me wandering the streets delirious, probably suffering from amnesia. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse I noticed some discomfort in a place I had never felt discomfort before.

   I noticed my nipples beginning to feel warm and then it quickly progressed into a full on burn. It was as if I had decided my nipples stuck out too far and the only solution was to sand them down. I just knew that when I finally stopped running I would have perfectly smooth nipples. The pain was excruciating.

   That's when it happened. In the middle of all that misery, I was having a moment of great revelation. There I was, Andy had left me in his dust, all alone with no reason to keep going yet, I was still running. Now I'm sure if you asked anyone who might have witnessed this they would not describe me as a man running. Mainly because it appeared I was limping along having a seizure while holding my shirt out, Madonna cone-style, away from my now bleeding nipples, contorting my face in ways that would make Jim Carrey look like an amateur. Never the less, I was still running. The revelation was that somehow through all this pain I felt great, I was now officially a runner.

   Andy was waiting for me when I finally reached his house. He said he was sorry about running further than we planned. My reply was, "No problem, it was great". I'm not saying you have to run ten miles to be able to call yourself a runner. It's the realization that you don't have to keep going when you're feeling your worst, but you truly want to. In running as in life, we can all do more than we think we can.
 

 



  

Ten Mile Hurt, Part 1 of 2

   Three years, Sixty pounds, and one divorce ago I discovered I was a runner. Not knowing exactly what I was seeking, I stumbled upon it on about the eighth mile of a ten mile run. This was probably the most physical pain I had ever inflicted on myself, on purpose.

   It all started innocently enough the previous weekend. My friend Andy, who I had not known very long, and I were at a cook-out with other friends and the subject of running came up. I had mentioned that I had been running for a couple of months, basically because of my recent split with my wife I realized that a Thirty-year-old, fat, unemployed, homeless guy was not very desirable and the fat part was the one thing I knew I could change. Here's how the conversation went:

Andy: What kind of pace are you running?
Me: About ten minute miles. (I just made this up.)
Andy: That's about the same as me, I'm going to do an eight miler next Sunday want to join?
Me: Sounds Great! (I'm pretty sure I had been drinking.)

Sounds Great! What was I thinking? The furthest I had run until this point was two miles, two miles! My first thought was to come up with some way out of this. Honestly though, what excuse could I make, I had no job or real responsibilities. So it was on to Plan B. I figured I could just push a little harder this week and I'd be ready for eight miles on Sunday. By Thursday I had worked my way up to 3 miles, it wasn't pretty, in fact it was down right ugly.

I was ready...