Mile 2

I imagined I looked something like a hobbling ballerina to him. He still opened the doors, without muttering a word. In a different context, I would have told him, "Now, listen, these are graduated compression socks, high-grade stuff, designed to improve blood flow back to the heart. And who doesn't like that? No seriously, just for a minute here, Albert (my doorman), consider the moisture management and temperature regulation, the Achilles tendon support, and the padded foot soles that prevent irritation. This is serious stuff, and I'll sell them to you off my feet for $30, after my run, for a song, really, for the $60 value and they're worth every penny of that and you can pick them up at Urban Athletics." (http://zootsports.com/spring2010/product/m-compressrx-sock?category=mens%3Acompression)

It was a day of firsts. It was the first time I put these on and headed out the door to meet JR, my friend and teammate from Central Park Track Club, for a morning run. It was the first day in my marathon training that I woke up, stepped out of bed, and my right leg felt on fire, as if it were still in the middle of my 5K effort from the night before. It was the first day I had officially freaked out the doorman.

Giving Albert my casual good morning and good-to-see-you nod on my way out for mile 2, he pulled his head back in surprise. I looked behind me to see if something else had caught his eye. No, I realized, my ensemble of short running shorts and compression socks was a revelation to him. What that revelation was, I don't know, except to say it was a revelation to me, too.


I was hurt. Not emotionally hurt. When I'm training for something I'll do anything to stay healthy. I'd wear my graduated compression socks out for a black-tie event. This was just the first time I'd worn them out for a morning run. Part of the problem is my personal approach to injury is a lot like how surfers think about sharks: it doesn't exist, injuries happen to other people. That kind of attitude is fine until you see the fins a few feet away from your surfboard or if you're only on mile 2. Anyway, I should have known that running a one-legged 5k on a concrete surface can cause this kind of pain and that the sharks were too close, but I didn't.

So here's what we're looking at. This is a rough sketch I found with some of my other notes and scraps of paper on my desk. I'm not sure I can actually take credit for the drawing, but the point is, that thing is fragile. Albert knew it, the good people at Zoot who make compression socks know it, and I need to admit it.

Getting to the start line (pictured below) has to be the first goal now, since the ultimate goal is actually running the race.

As for Albert, and my morning of firsts, I ran twelve steps. Waves of pain swept up my leg to my hip and somehow made it to my ear and screamed "STOP!"

So I did.

Continuing to run, to meet JR, and to go for 9 miles would have introduced a whole new set of problems that I wasn't willing to invite. In my finest hobbling-ballerina swagger I came back into the building and nodded to Albert, who smiled and said, "Finished already."

Mile 1

"Five flat. Five o' one. Five o' two," they yelled at mile one. The race clock wasn't ticking as we crossed through the first mile. That's fine. There's no shortage of people with watches who want to tell a runner how fast or slow they're going. Let me back up. 5:02 isn't first-mile pace for a marathon. It was the Sunset & Suns 5K Run last Thursday (August 26th). This was a test of fitness, a prelude, and an opportunity to drink all the beer I could stomach for $25.

So yeah, not the same as running over the Verazanno Bridge after huddling with the masses on a November morning, but I like starting small. Like just under 150 people small. The race was put on by Urban Athletics, the New York Harriers, and brought to us by the good people at Mizuno and P. D. O'Hurley's.  

It's been a while since I ran a 5k, almost  a year now, and that was on the grass.  I knew it was a true distance because Jerry, one of the minds behind Urban, measured it twice the day before. So beforehand, I got my number, donned my UA singlet, warmed up with some pain in my right leg hoping that it would go away, and lined up. My goal: 15:30 or below. 

That guy on my left shoulder was sort of like the pain in my right leg. He just would not go away. For some reason, after the gun went off, I went out and around the avenue with this guy and my leg nagging.  Everything else was right. The temperature. The trees and the sun mixing. A fun, track-like course. 

Mile two went a lot like mile one. "Ten o' seven, Ten o' eight, Ten o' nine." The guy on my left has passed me once and backed off. I'm getting used and we both know it, but that's what smart runners do. Or at least that's what I'd do if I weren't running for time. Mile three had an inverse effect from mile one. 

The paradox about marathon training is that you are always tired, feel like someone went over your legs with a Louisville Slugger, but aerobically you keep moving at the same pace. You can see it in my eyes up there at mile one. I'm thinking, "Yeah, I know I'm going to regret this," but then that look doesn't go away. Now, here's the money shot. What you can't see is that I'm watching the other guy pull away, and I've stopped feeling my right leg. So this is really more of a helpless look. That's the kind of look I want to eradicate from my repertoire before the marathon.

How do you get a face like that?

Most runners have been there before, but in trying to break the other guy I also knew with near certainty that I would go ahead and break myself.  So that's me breaking. About a half mile before this point I threw in three quick surges. I pulled away three times. He pulled me back in three times. I don't mind getting beat in this fashion because I'm doing what I can and there's nothing left. Plus, look at the background. This course was a great place to run and we surged past the riverfront, past people sipping beer at the cafe, and around the park benches with the sun peeking through the trees.  Was I happy? That's what people ask you after a race. I shrug. Sure. 15:51. This was a PR for running on one leg. I still have to figure out that other guy's name. My leg feels as if someone is running an iron over it on steam during my three-mile cool-down. Then I pick up my beer mug, which I received for entering the race, and head for the keg. This was a soft opening. Thankfully. At the NYC Marathon, no one will be standing at the 5k with a beer mug for me. In the marathon mile one, as this race demonstrated on a smaller scale, is where honestly knowing what you're capable of will be the most important.

Warm UP

I've signed up for the local marathon. It's a 26.2 mile race through the five boroughs of this city.

http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/

This is Me. Peter Derby.

photo courtesy of Sue Pearsall

My first race was in third grade. My parents had four boys. I was the third of four, and I started running when their fiscal strategy to cut back on babysitters began to include bringing us to local 5ks. Now I'm trying to run the ING NYC Marathon.

Here are my brothers and myself, bottom left pocket, back then:

You get the picture.  Marathon Derby is an attempt to put all those years of babysitting fees to use. In many ways, not a lot has changed since then. (Not sure your strategy paid off, Mom.)

This is where I work, a running specialty store, Urban Athletics. 

http://www.urbanathleticsnyc.com/about.html

When the owners, Jerry and Cara,  say, "a home for runners, where they need one," they really mean it. Jerry found me back in February. I was drinking cup after cup of coffee at the burger joint around the corner, Jackson Hole. I was writing "unemployed writer / runner" on a piece of cardboard with a Sharpie when Jerry sat down at my table. The rest is history in the making. 

Since Urban Athletics (UA) is my running home, I will also make it the starting point for most of my runs. Generally I go from 2 World Financial Center where the Downtown UA is located, while other runs will start from the 92nd and Madison location closer to Central Park and closest to the home of the 7 oz. burger at Jackson Hole (http://www.jacksonholeburgers.com/).

Over the next 73 days, till the start of the NYC Marathon, I'll write 26.2 entries to explore the "necessary" elements of training. I'll also log my mileage, try to take my own advice, and talk about running. Recently, I received my United States Track & Field (USATF) Level 1 Coaching Certification.  Since this is my virgin voyage into marathon running, I'll also explore apparel and products related to the NYC Marathon. And I'll be trying to figure just what it is I've gotten myself into and will have regular contributions from marathon correspondents of all levels. Tomorrow is mile 1.