Last night I went out for tapas with one of my favorite people. Over figs wrapped in bacon (orgasmic, yes), we unpacked the condition of the Mom qua Athlete. We came around to our need to have a project going. Something that makes us think, troubleshoot, work, and reach a gratifying outcome. A project that is a work of both art and science, one requiring creativity and playfulness balanced by logic and strategy. Not an experiment, an analytic quandary that gets unriddled and as a result, unfolds like a perfectly crafted novel. Kind of like solving those blasted GRE analysis questions, only, you know, not a total bloody waste of a Saturday morning. Not that we ever get this kind of project. We just want to have one. Scrapbooking, cooking, needlepoint, and good God, cleaning–none of that will do it.

Training. Training is the project we get. Only now our self training has become insufficient so we’re out training other people. Megalomaniacs unite.

(continue reading…)

I think I’ve struck a chord. Scrolling down my blog today, as I do when I’m feeling more vain than usual, I noticed that my MILF Effect post has been viewed by twice as many people as any other post in the last couple weeks. Hm. I’m a little apprehensive that the sorts of people who google ‘MILF’ are now reading my blog, in which case I would like to state to all the skeevy people out there that I am a total prude and this is a wholesome web site for running enthusiasts, a site that only occasionally and comedically uses words like ’slut’ and ‘f#ck.’

(continue reading…)

I am not a sex kitten. Most of the week, I schlep around town in fuzzy Merrell clogs and fleece sweatpants from Horny Toad. The pants have never elicited the response implied by their brand. When I’m feeling saucy, I break out a pair of jeans and my Dansko clogs for a bit of a heel.

The woman with the red boots and the blog littered with double entendres? That, my friends, is the result of the MILF Effect caused by running.

(continue reading…)

“Mentally and physically my seasoned older self would kick the shit out of my self as a girl.” Um, yeah. This is what my friend Mary wrote in her blog post yesterday. That was before we went to a place called Redemption Tattoo in my old Cambridge ‘hood to inquire about some ink. But I’ll get back to that in a bit.

(continue reading…)

In New England, October is for chipmunks and runners, both darting around with manic glee and tempting cars to flatten us on the asphalt. While those glorified rats gorge on acorns, for runners, all signs point to racing. One such sign I’ve seen in the last few days:

My race mantra: 3:40 or die trying

Pretty much every runner I know in a 50-mile radius is going to be at Bay State on the 18th, either spectating or running. It’s one of the few days in the year when people flock to Lowell, known more for its desolate, empty mills than anything else. Still, it’s going to be a party, but one where people try to leave as quickly as possible, not unlike the flight of Lowell urbanites to the suburbs in the past few years.

(continue reading…)

Do you know how hard it is to find a running controversy to debate every week? I came this close to crafting an argument around the overuse of pastels in women’s running shoes but when you start yawning at your own writing, it’s generally a good idea to revise your outline. (Seriously, though, knock it off with the pastels.)

As serendipity would have it, I got some interesting data in my inbox today. A survey of moms conducted by Gather.com found:

• 58% of them are lonely,
• The younger their kids, the lonelier they feel
• Moms between the ages of 20 and 34 are most likely to feel isolated, and those between 35 and 49 are most likely to feel content with their support networks
• 61% of them have made a new friend online in the past year

(continue reading…)

By Brian Sawyer

Delirious at Mile 25 or so

I don’t remember the title (or much else) of the IMAX movie I saw years ago about a guy who crashes his plane in the mountains and has to walk some unheard-of distance through the snow to civilization, but his mantra made a big impression on me: “I’m walking … I’m walking … I’m walking …” (continue reading…)

By Brian Sawyer

In Pain, Mile 18

All of a sudden, this Sunday in the park was no longer just a Sunday in the park. For the first time since beginning training (including a 22-miler, a couple 20-milers, 18s, etc.), I started to get muscle cramps. My calves seized up on me every few steps and I had to decide whether to stop and stretch (I worried that stopping would seize them up for good) or work them out by running through them (I was worried that would make them worse). (continue reading…)

By Brian Sawyer

Golden Gate Bridge, Mile 6

Like everyone else, I was really looking forward to running this part of the course, but beyond the possible bragging rights for the accomplishment, there really wasn’t much more to like about crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Engulfed in haze and mist, the road was wet, making footing difficult, especially on the raised reflectors, which became slippery and difficult to dodge. (continue reading…)

By Brian Sawyer

After a short trip on Caltrain from San Jose, I arrived in San Francisco early Saturday afternoon, checked into the Hyatt, and jumped on the shuttle bus to the expo, where I picked up my bib, a nice official tech shirt, and new Fuel Belt to hold my phone and the several packs of Gu I was planning to carry with me on Sunday (I love my SPIbelt, but it won’t hold much more than my phone). (continue reading…)