The Sports Frog

(This is the last of the pre-Hood To Coast entries. We hope to have time/energy to post from the road during the race.)

It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be a tribute to anything but the organization and logistical prowess of a group of internet strangers. It wasn't supposed to dovetail perfectly with the larger race's fundraising efforts. It wasn't supposed to be one last way to pay our respects for one of our own. Now it is all of those things and we wouldn't want it any other way.

We were supposed to be doing this on a lark. We were the "Charlatans of the Highest Order," an homage to a team member's clever dating ruse. Certainly a worthy name, but we got a better one while wishing that we'd never had to change. We're now the Unknown Swampers, which is a name that works on two levels. We are, for the most part, all part of The Swamp, and also mostly Unknown to each other. That's just a coincidence. The bigger reason is to pay a tribute to one of The Swamp's own, Unknown, a young man from Chicago named Sean E. Healy who remains a big part of Swamp Lore.

There are a lot Swampers who have fallen by the wayside for one reason or another. Telkinsjr. Lafley. Tkurkjan. Brainbo. JBCool. Smitty. I couldn't possibly list them all. Their reasons are their own, under their control or not, it is what it is, repeat as needed. Sean's reasons were out of his control and in the form of a battling a rare cancer.

It says something about the Swamp that when he hadn't been around for a while, we started to get worried. Sean had told us once before about his cancer and how it had gotten better and allowed him to live his life normally. Then he slipped away from the Swamp for an extended period. We didn't notice for a while, because people's posting habits ebb and flow. Of course, given his history we feared the worst as the time stretched out longer and longer.

Then the news came, via the private messaging system. A Swamper had contacted Sean's e-mail looking for news on him. Eventually two responses hit his inbox from Sean's account. They were sent by Sean's mother and confirmed what we suspected. Sean lost his fight with cancer on February 10, 2007.

We didn't know Sean, other than as a message board friend. Everyone had (and still has) issues and arguments with others, even on a message board with as much civility as The Swamp has. Unknown was no different. Fiercely loyal to his Chicago teams, US Men's Soccer, and any other topic which needed his defense, he made people mad on occasion, but he was capable of making us smile even more easily. He was, like the rest of us, a regular guy/gal looking for a place to talk about sports without the sniping and namecalling that usually accompany anonymous message boards. He was a valued member of the Swamp Community.

That's what this is all about: this race, this board, this website. Community. A lot of websites have message boards that are an offshoot of the main content page. The Sports Frog has a front page (I Swear!) that exists because of its message board.

The Swamp is a community, the likes of which I am not sure exist anywhere else in cyberspace. So when a group of twelve relative strangers gather to run from Mt. Hood to the Pacific Ocean this weekend, we're gathering as a part of a larger community. Unknown Swampers together, running for other Unknown Swampers, singular and plural. We'll be thinking of all of you, the ones here still, and the ones who have passed their way through our space, leaving a bit of themselves with each of us.

So, with nothing left to add before we hit the road, this one goes out to those Unknown....

(There's still time to donate to The Unknown Swampers's race fund; every penny of each donation goes to the American Cancer Society. We didn't plan on having a reason to support the ACS, but sometimes things work out like that.)

Welcome to AB's Running Blog! Well, maybe it just seems that way as we make a final push to Hood To Coast 2008. It's close enough to taste, and believe me, if you've ever licked the back of a collective someone who has just run 197 miles non stop, you'll know that it is not a taste that can be forgotten.

When last we left off I was showing progress but I needed to ramp up the mileage. The shortest leg of Hood to Coast (incidentally, mine) is 13.55 miles, or an average of 4.52 miles per leg. I hadn't run so much as a 5K in mid-January. So on January 25, 2008, I sucked it up. I was going four miles, pain be damned. Forty-six sixteen. Not great, not bad. The next Friday I did the same. Forty-three thirty nine. In seven days, I improved two and a half minutes. I was convinced that I wasn't pushing myself as hard as I needed to be doing.

Only that didn't work out. It worked exactly opposite of how I had hoped. I hit a wall and think I hurt myself a little. I ran only six times over the next month. Then another eight for the two months. I was hurting some and basically chickening out. My anemia was back; I was tired by six p.m. most days. Running wasn't on my priority list. Soon it was May and I was well behind in training. From February 1 through April 31st I had run just twenty-two miles. I was letting the team down, though none of them said as much.

Now we were three months out and I had a lot of work to do. I bought new shoes at a specialty running store, signaling a fresh commitment. I took the advice of a store employee and implemented the 10% rule, whereby you track backwards from a target mileage and never increase weekly mileages by more than 10%. Aiming to run twenty-two miles race week (figuring for race mileage and some training miles), I found myself needing to run 7.25 miles the first week of training. Suddenly these numbers were manageable. The original spreadsheet was calling for six and eight mile runs and I simply wasn't capable of that.

Continue reading "The Last Runs, Including the First Race" »

Now how could I forget fair Dave? Maybe because he's neither running nor driving, but rather just showing up for the fun parts? A real team player, that Dave. OOOH, I'll just show up when it is convenient for me. How does that fit your schedule? If he complains about his knees aching he is liable to be killed.

That said, DaveinSeaside is bringing some heat, literally. Well, not literally, unless he transports a propane tank from Seattle. He will be fricaseeing, and braising, and searing left and right making a post-race brunch. Hopefully it will have the requisite amounts of grease to combat hangovers because there's going to be so much beer drinking Saturday night howard is gonna get a contact drunk.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: DaveInSeattle
AKA: DiS
Height: Acrophobic
Weight: Divorced, so much lighter now
Team Role: Keymaster/Chef
10K Potential: Less than Michael Phelps
Hobbies: Bacon and Vodka Trafficking, Cameron Mills Worship, Bending People over the Sail Bag
Biggest Asset to Team: Tying Bolo ties
Most Likely To: Not need ibuprofen Sunday AM

This is all his fault, really. He tricked us with his promise of booze and brotherhood. Then, once we had committed, casually mentioned that, oh yeah, we have to run 197 miles first. We should have known he was lying; he also claims to play soccer weekly in Alabama, which is obviously an outright fabrication. The only thing soccer players in Alabama are good for is for feeding to the football players. So this lying thing is pathological.

The thing is, the guy seems to be able to flat move. He didn't let us know he was training that much, and then boom, he drops a line in our Super Secret Forum (trust me, you've missed nothing) and says, "What's up guys last night I ran four miles in like 24 minutes, but I'll try to do better, sorry to let you down." I got a stitch in my side just reading what he had done, it was so surreal.

Bob used to play foosball collegiately at San Diego School of Mines and Technorati, where he was the third little man in the midfield. He and his two linemates synchronized their flipping as if connected by a fat metal bar. He still has the scars, both physical and mental, from this experience, and will gladly show them to you. The mental ones that is. The physical ones are his true shame.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: Bobby Pentagonz
AKA: Gonz, Bobby P, King of the Vagabonds
Height: 70.5 inches
Wait: The Hardest Part
Team Role: Runner, Leg 9 (19.68 Miles, Most Difficult Leg)
10K Potential: The Clock
Hobbies: Shopping for home security systems, not being caught because he's f*cking innocent, Necromancy, Kegel Exercise Class Instructor
Biggest Asset to Team: Racist Joke Sounding Board
Most Likely To: Wake up without knowing where his pants went

Next: AB!

TommyBoy and Brian were the masterminds of our team. They took the time to crunch the numbers and come up with the running order that would be best for the team. After about seven minutes it was pretty clear to see that TommyBoy likes spreadsheets. He has a tatoo of an empty pivot table on his ass. Drop Data Items Here indeed.

TommyBoy spends his days doing high finance and his nights low finance, supplementing his income by giving investment advice to hobos. He eats PEG ratios for breakfast and defecates no-load mutual funds. It will shock you to know that maybe these profiles are not 100% accurate, but I've written this whole section and am not positive he works in finance. The way he makes love to Excel means it must be so.

TommyBoy kept us very abreast of his training regimen, including the Ipod Hits from his latest runs (he runs similar paces to Rassele). From this, we have learned that his taste in music is not very eclectic. What I mean by that is that it all, without exception, sucks.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: TommyBoy
AKA: The Thrilla Who's Vanilla
Height: Dead Horse
Waits: Tom
Team Role: Runner, Leg #3 (17.16 miles, 6th most difficult)
10K Potential: Currently banned from the SEC"s website for soliciting runners
Hobbies: (=VLOOKUP, 'Hobbies!'$A$1:$B$47,2,2,)
Biggest Asset To Team: Caged Wisdom DVD Set
Most Likely To: Hook up with a tranny at the afterparty

Next: Bobby Pentagonz!

If boybleu is blowing his horn, you best get out of his way, because he's headed to next exchange point. There is something to be said about a guy who, having run the event in the past, is smart enough to volunteer to drive instead. All of the camraderie, none of the shin splints.

What we're looking for from boybleu will be guidance. What we need is for him to give some of his sage wisdom, such as "It's customary for the vans to stop and water their runners during the leg." Never mind that in certain legs you can't do that; boybleu is a bona fide rule breaker. A ruffian. A scofflaw. He's the type of guy who will bring a keg of Corona Light onto a streetcar and dare you to question him about doing so.

We're just hoping that his reputation as a chartlatan doesn't mean that we are all in on his little ruse. A little ruse that involved the registering of a domain name and creating a fictional race whereby to lure twelve unsuspecting strangers to his hometown so as to murder each and every one of them. A very lazy mass-murderer, if you will.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: boybleu
AKA: Puddy (I swear!)
Haight: A neighborhood in San Francisco.
Weight: 4400 pounds (when seated in driver's seat)
Team Role: Driver, Van #1 (197 miles, easiest leg)
10K Potential: At current pace, May 2012
Hobbies: Conoisseur of fine mouthwash, CRT Monitor Repair, Rochambeaux
Biggest Asset to Team: Grooming tips
Most Likely To: Trip the light fantastic

Next: TommyBoy!

Brian knows pain. Brian knows the pain of going long distances, hoping to finish strong. Brian knows how hard is to often start out wonderfully, only to hit the proverbial wall and screech to a halt. Brian knows the pain of constant toil, knowing that the only thing in the future is another disappointment. Such is life for Detroit sports fan.

When it comes to running, however, Brian's story is among the best on this team. Checking in at 5-10 1/2 inches tall, Brian at one point decided he needed to lose some weight. I envision it was much like Forrest Gump. One day, he just put on some running shoes, stepped outside his Detroit home and took off. He arrived in Las Vegas four months later, shacked up with some cocktail waitress from Ned's House of Blackjack (it's just off the strip) and divorced his wife. Budweiser is considering him for a spot as a "Real Man of Genius."

Brian has run several marathons and/or half-marathons (though we've tried to tell him that quitting a full marathon midway doesn't really count as a half-marathon) and lost enough weight that he is also being considered for the role of body double to Subway Jared, who appears to be getting a little bit thicker in the past couple of months.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: brian
AKA: briandtw, Chippewa Chuck
Height: (omitted)
Wait: 15 minutes from this point
Team Role: Runner, Leg #2 (17.5 Miles, 3rd most Difficult)
10K Potential: One of a handful to reach this post count
Hobbies: Hitting on 15, Olde English Typesetting, Boycotting Video Games, Issuing Non-Interest Bearing Loans
Biggest Asset to Team: Body Glide Supplier
Most Likely To: Start his legs later than expected

In seriousness, Brian is our Team Captain and has put in a lot of time to help make sure things have run as smoothly as they have. He fronted a lot of money when we didn't know who was going to be running, coordinated our paperwork with the race organizers and secured half of our vans for the race itself. I would like to extend a personal thank you to Brian for this and I think in doing so I speak for all of our team members.

Next: boybleu!

We did have twelve runners from The Swamp at one point. For one reason or another, good (JoeyClams, PresidentCerrano, GovementChedda, Brainbo) or bad (Bronto - pinnacle of health my ear), like it or not, some had to drop out. Thusly, we have had to scramble to find runners to fill their spots.

The first Non-Swamper signed up was Momma Pentagonz. A serious runner, if a suspect child-rearer, Momma Pentagonz has been on board from the start. She will be running Leg 8 (14.39 miles, 10th most difficult) and riding in Van #2. It is expected that she will compete with GPJ for the title of Bear Safety Warden, as she has more first-hand experience than the merely theoretical work of Jones. She is the front runner for the most likely to say something off-color to make everyone else breathe a bit easier in her presence.

SpongeLikeNinja found the second non-swamper, a friend of his with the absolutely stunning initials AB. AB the Unswamped, as it were, has run several 50K races, which is, and I mean this in the nicest way, stupid. I don't think I've run 50K total in preparation for this race. Pork (The Other AB...get it?) is running Leg 10 (17.89 miles, 4th most difficult leg), which after running 50K is merely a warm down. It is expected he will run back to Portland to catch his flight.

The third and fourth replacements are a couple who were found by TommyBoy via a swinger's message board. The two mentioned that they would "run to the ends of the earth" for a nice, clean, non-infected experience with a good Catholic family. TommyBoy said "How about just to the Pacific Ocean, with no promises as to the other caveats?" Their first questions after joining were "You guys like beer, right?" The Naturals. Remco (the "man" of the relationship) is a Hood to Coast veteran who will run Leg 5 (17.91 miles, 2nd most difficult) while Karen (soon to be the "man" of the relationship once the two marry, effectively ending Remco's days as a man) will run Leg #4 (14.74 miles, 11th most difficult).

The last replacement was garnered also by TommyBoy from another message board (the man is indefatigable) and can run eight-minute miles. "Jim," if that is his real name, will compete with howard in nyc for oldest male in Van #2. A nineteen time Hood to Coast Veteran, Jim will run Leg 11 (15.85 miles, 8th most difficult). Jim is "Most Likely to Mutter 'What Have I Gotten Myself Into' Under His Breath.

Next: Brian!

SpongeLikeNinja is a punk. I'm positive that when he goes into litigation situations, he goes in with an Armani Suit with the sleeves ripped off (because cutting them off isn't punk enough) and a pink spike mohawk with a studded dog collar around his neck. What else would you expect from an associate with the law firm of Vicious, Ramone, Ramone, and Smith?

OK, so he just likes punk music, but you have to admit that would be a pretty badass law firm. Tell me you wouldn't settle out of court to avoid the smashing of the jury box and the witness stand.

A denizen of the great northeast (using Hawaii as base point), SpongeLikeNinja is also an accomplished runner. He has simulated Hood To Coast conditions during training by running long distances, and then sitting in his car for hours at a time while talking to himself. The neighbors have called the authorities on more than one occasion.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: SpongeLikeNinja
AKA: SLN, The Caped Barrister
Height: you know by now
Weight: 183.72 pounds (approximately)
Team Role: Runner, Leg #12 (16.12 miles, 9th most difficult)
10k Potential: Can review one under retainer in under 200 billable hours
Hobbies: Visiting the Orthopedist, rocking out with his (too hot!) out
Biggest Asset to Team: Due Diligence
Most Likely To: Use his ninja skills to cut off five miles from his total distance

Next: The true Unknown Swampers!

you'll have to pardon me on this one but it wouldn't be right to use capital letters in this post. for years, the esteemed howard has eschewed large letters for small, and so it is that this post shall be an homage to howard's propensities.

a political and pugilistic junkie (a lethal combination when, as often happens, political discourse comes to blows), it is expected that howard will have no shortage of stories and debates to entertain and enlighten the runners in van #2, which howard will be guiding along the hills and countrysides of oregon. a west coaster for some time, the smell of the pacific is nothing new. god help the poor female runners who find themselves in the crosshairs of the good doctor's charms.

tale of the tape:
name: howard in nyc
aka: doc, the good doctor, dr. hunglow
height: five foot 10 1/2 inches, give or take five inches
team role: driver, van #2, (197 miles, tied - easiest leg)
weight: about three pounds less than what hood* reports at any given time
10k potential: 11 minutes in driver's seat of van on small country roads
hobbies: de-flowering, free lunches, de-flowering drug reps after free lunches
biggest question heading into event: where are we staying on friday night? (answer: behind the wheel of a rental van, doc)
most likely to: offer to share a room with Momma Pentagonz

next: spongebobninjapants!

No team would be complete without that guy. You know the one. Keeps everyone light. Cracks a few well timed jokes to break the tension. Might not be the most talented on the team, but can be counted on to perform well and not do anything to take away from the team. Is happy to just be there, but also capable of a few moments of glory when it counts. Clutch.

I am sure Raselle can agree that it would be nice to have a guy like that on the team.

Seriously, though Rassele can go, to borrow a caddy phrase and apply it to running. Like yours truly, he's been a big user of the Bobby Pentagonz spreadhseet for training, though his numbers are usually about 50% lower than mine. Show-off. During Week Two of training, Rassele was running three miles in nine minutes per mile. This past week, Rasselle did that same mileage in 23:49. The last time I went that fast in an athletic event I was riding in a golf cart.

There's little doubt that he's ready.

Tale of the Tape:
Name: Rassele
Team Role: Runner, Leg 6 (16.92 Miles, 5th most Difficult)
Height: Guessing Five foot 10 1/2 inches
Weight: 170, 173 with Playoff Beard
10K Potential: 52 Minutes
Big fan of: Sir David Attenborough, Sunny D
Hobbies: Buying Furniture at Target, Seasonal Avatar Rotation, Repeating Jokes, Stealing Office Supplies
Biggest Asset for the Team: His running shirts feature a print of his avatar
Most Likely To: Be the first to break out pictures of his offspring

Next: howard in nyc!

SL22, known in The Swamp as SL22, is a highly skilled athlete. Or at least he was at some point in his career. As for now, the jury is out. Much the same as yours truly, the first day of training was harder than expected. The following is a direct quote from Sl22 himself after his first day of training:

"Ok, I tried to run to the gym, workout, and run back. Well, about a mile in, my lower back started to flare up. Real bad. I was thinking that there was no way in Uzbekistan that I was going to be able to do this. So I walk/jog/walked the rest of the way to the gym, lifted, and realized how freaking hard it is to jog back home after. I walked like, a mile, and had a mile and a half left. I decided to jog and see how far I got. Well, I think I started off too fast the first time, or maybe just stretched my back out, because I made it the whole way home in about 12 mins. Little to no back pain. So, day one was inconclusive. Wednesday is day two as I will hopefully be able to do the full 2.5 miles to and then back from the gym. If that works out, I'll go for 5 on Friday."

A harsh reality, but at least he had several months to get in shape, right? Not so fast, as our Merkin-ed content stealer likes to say. That quote was from Monday. The one just passed. Three days ago.

Let's hope pure athleticism wins out.

The Tale of the Tape:
Name: SL22
Team Role: Runner, Leg 7 (15.54 Miles, 7th most Difficult)
AKA: Slolz, Gunpowder Jones, Barbaro, etc.
Height: Guessing 5 foot 10 1/2 inches
Weight: 175 (180 in a wool Houston Oiler Sweater in the Florida Heat)
Length: Less than boasted
10K Potential: Unlikely
Hobbies: Laying down hot fire, forced carnal acts with manatees, revisionist Presidential history
Biggest asset for the team: Makes the others feel overprepared
Most Likely to: Alienate Bobby Pentz's mother

Next: #2 - Rassele!

This is part two of my series on training for the Hood to Coast relay race next weekend.

You'll remember I did this on sort of a lark. I committed to the team before we knew for certain if we were in the race. You see, there are thousands of entrants, and the race organizers limit the field to around 1,000 teams (apparently 1,040 this year) and so you have many applicants submit applications for a lottery. My first runs were without the knowledge that we would be racing, but after my admitting I needed to do something to lose some weight.

I was plagued by back problems from 2000 or so until 2006. The doctors (general and chiropractic) gave good advice, and almost all of them included weight loss in this advice. At the start of this training I weighed in the neighborhood of 270 pounds, give or take depending on the day and the number of trips to the bathroom at weigh-in. I'm a shade over 6-2, but 270 pounds was still way too much.

In 2006, I did read up on John Sarno's back relief system and that helped, but in 2007 things were again creeping towards problematic. I knew I needed to lose some of those 270 pounds. . Even at the hefty weight (My idol was fellow UK alumnus Jared Lorenzen, apparently) I fancied myself in somewhat of a decent shape. I started out with doing two miles at a time, without regard to pace, just to get the distance that I wanted to get.

The first time I stepped on the treadmill, it took me thirty-one minutes to cover 10,560 feet. I understand there will be some reading this that might not be able to do two miles in that time, and please know I am not demeaning you at all. I was just mad at myself because I really thought it was going to be no problem to go out and run 12-13 minute miles from day one. That's not a tremendous pace in itself, but I expected to be around that given that I was just starting. I found out that there was literally nowhere to go but up.

Continue reading "The First Runs...Cabbage Soup Not Included" »

...gets the grease. The problem with the squeak, though, was this: it wasn't a wheel. It actually took me some time to figure out what the infernal squeak was and where it was coming from. I knew that it started every time I walked anywhere. The logical culprit was the shoes. So I tried to figure out how my shoes were squeaking on carpet floors. Couldn't do it. So I took my shoes off. Step. Squeak. Step. Squeak.

Must be the office floor, right? I stepped into the hallway. Step. Squeak. Step. Squeak. Walked all around my floor barefoot. Still my mousy refrain. It's one thing to know where an annoying sound is coming from. At least then it can become part of the everyday soung orgy. You don't hear the wall clock ticking, or the clicking of the keyboard in the next office, or the screams of your boss after another maddening phone call.

The astute reading this (yeah, right) will have already figured out the problem, but, myself never being confused with the astute, had not. Until I got home one evening last August.

Continue reading "The squeaky wheel..." »