I do not have much to write about.
Life is pretty simple in my little slice of the world, maybe even a little boring.
However, I need to write. I see shapes and colors and patterns that others have already pieced together. I explore what has already been found. I write what has already written. It used to feel a sin to think words no others think and to put them down upon paper no others are to see.
Perhaps they are not words that no other think.
Perhaps they are words many others think.
What matters to me is that they are words that I think. I need some place to collect them; some place to go and see what I thought was intriguing enough to commit to some medium more lasting than neurons. These writings may range across the gamut of technology, video games, board games, art history, ramblings on the climate of micro economies in eastern European countries, or the migratory patterns of the western tanager.
Primarily, though, my thoughts focus on what I am actively doing - so obvious, I am unsure of why I felt the need to write that fact.
I need to write, because I need to work on my articulation and artistic creativity. I need get better at putting my thoughts, ideas, and visions into written form. At this point, I cannot think of a better way to do this than to just keep posting to this blog (a term I still loathe). Some projects of note that I will be commenting (read: rambling) about in the near term include: A Movie (as yet untitled) that I have been tinkering with over the better part of a decade, Another Movie (as yet untitled) that I have been tinkering with for the last two years, (re)learning Ruby on Rails, expanding my knowledge of <a href="http://knockoutjs.com/">Knockout.js</a>, learning at least one other JavaScript framework (probably <a href="http://emberjs.com/">Ember.js</a>), my time spent in the world of <a href="http://us.battle.net/d3/en/">Sanctuary</a>, and learning a <a href="https://www.duolingo.com/drovani">second language</a>.
Whatever this adventure may be, I need to write. Chances are good that few people will read these words, but these will still be my words, and I may look at them at some point.
Today is Day One of a Thirty Day experiment. I am going to write a post every workday, no matter how small or trivial it may be. It has to have some kind of information, and it needs to add something to my collection of stored knowledge.
We may just be speaking alone to no ears but our own, but there is no transgression blacker than to do or think alone.

Rovani in C♯

I crossed the start line. I crossed the finish line. <a href="http://results.chicagomarathon.com/2013/?content=detail&#x26;fpid=favorites&#x26;pid=favorites&#x26;idp=999999107FA3090000100997&#x26;lang=EN_CAP&#x26;event=MAR">04:41:59</a> elapsed between those two.
For the last 24 hours, I've been trying to tell myself that I finished a marathon, and that I should be proud of that fact. Yet all I can really come up with is disappointment. As I went to lunch, today, I walked down LaSalle St. Yesterday morning, the street was closed off and I was running right down the middle of it with 40,000 other people, being cheered on by a mass of spectators with nothing better to do than scream at those of us too crazy to think this was a bad idea. Today, it is just another Monday in the city, and I'm just a guy in the way of a speeding cabby. Yesterday, friends and family, and even random strangers, were congratulating me on completing the marathon. Today, it is just another Monday in the city, and I'm just a guy limping around. It's a surreal experience that I don't quite know how to describe.
Obviously, I met my first and second goals. I really did everything according to plan, too. My first two miles were in the 9:15 range; I started out going at a very comfortable pace, making sure I didn't get swept up in the excitement of the event and burst onto the course too fast. I would grab a Gatorade at the early point in each hydration station, take two long walking steps to gulp it down, get right back into my stride, then do the same for the water. My gel plan of taking one at 5, 12, and 19 miles worked great. For the 16 miles after the opening two, I held a fairly steady 8:55. That meant miles three through eight were gradually making up those first two miles, and the next eight miles were banking time. My fitness was holding steady and strong. However, nagging me from around mile 2 was a strain that I've been having with my left <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iliotibial_band_syndrome">IT band</a> for the last 5 weeks or so. I knew that it was going to bother me the whole race, the question was just how far I could go before it shut down.
I started suffering around mile 18, which forced me to drastically reduce my pace. At mile 22, it completely shut down, and I was reduced to a limping walk for the next 4 miles. I tried getting back into stride at various points, but each time the pain was absolutely torturous. Goal number three was completely out the window by that point, and now I knew that finishing was the only priority. It's amazing how much more time there is for introspection while walking than there is during running. There's so much more to occupy the brain while running: breath pattern (In.. 2.. 3.. Out.. 2.. In.. 2.. 3..), stride (foot strike, knee and hip all in a vertical line), posture (chest up, shoulders relaxed, arms loose), path (keep a straight, clear line). But when walking, especially while injured, the breath pattern, stride, and posture just completely fall away. Suddenly I have time to think about the pain, and the disappointment, and all the time I sacrificed for training, and how I really just want to give my wife and kid a giant hug at the end of this. It was terrible.
So, I started setting little goals - anything to keep myself out of my own head. Just keep walking… just keep going… only three more miles to go, only two and a half, only two, just a mile and a half. Oh look, they even have a nice "1 mile to go sign". Just keep walking. I had to finish this. It wasn't a question of whether I was going to finish, just when. The 800 meters to go sign was the hardest for me. I could see it a half mile or so before I got to it. I'd decided, somewhere along while limping, that no matter how much it hurt, I was going to cross the finish line running. Even if it was just the last ten feet - I was going to run across it.
When I finally saw the 800 meters sign, I decided that's where I was going to start running. What's 800 meters? That's just twice around a track. Anyone can run 800 meters. One last hydration station, two city blocks, and then an 800 meter run. And that's what I did. 400 meters north on Michigan Ave., turn east and go up the dreaded hill on Roosevelt to pass mile marker 26, then turn north for the final stretch on Columbus Dr. Run across the finish, with a smile to the camera, then it's over. Only it wasn't over. The pain didn't leave itself on the course. The dehydration, hunger, and cold didn't go away by passing through that magical portal. I don't think I've ever hurt that much, and I've certainly never felt that much emotion well up all at once.
Now, I'm officially a marathoner. I still can't bring myself to say that I've run a marathon, because I haven't. I ran 22 miles, and walked another 4. But this is what happened at my first half-marathon. I ran 12 miles, and walked the last one. Then I came back a year later, and destroyed my goal time. I'm not downtrodden, I'm not depressed, just disappointed. I'll be back next year. I may not run in the Chicago Marathon, but I'll do another Fall marathon. I'm disappointed in my finish, but I'm not finished just yet.
<blockquote>
3:47:14 PM me: I'm such a terrible writer.
3:47:44 PM Dorothea: no! I liked your posts :)! they are gripping and easy to read
3:48:32 PM me: haha! I'd call them rambling and incoherent.
3:52:09 PM Dorothea: na!!! I've an MA in literary studies, so I know what I'm talking about. so shush!
3:53:28 PM me: Well! I believe I just got schooled.
</blockquote>
Footnote - my favorite motivational sign, which I saw at multiple points was:
<blockquote>
Some day, you won't be able to finish a marathon
today is not that day.
</blockquote>

A Marathon in Three Parts, Epilogue

Three Hours, Five Minutes, Zero Seconds or less. For a male, 34 years or younger on race day, 3:05:00 is the qualifying time to register for the Boston Marathon. In all practicality, it will probably take a sub-3 hour marathon to actually <a href="www.baa.org/races/boston-marathon/participant-information/qualifying.aspx">get to run the race</a>. The more I read about the Chicago Marathon, the more I discovered all about the running community, worldwide events, legendary runners, support organizations, fundraising, charity drives, and the Marathon Majors. How wonderful would it be to run a marathon in Chicago, Berlin, Boston, London, New York, and Tokyo! That meant I had to qualify for Boston, which means a sub-3:00:00 marathon. That's not going to happen my first time out, so I'm settling for sub-4:00:00 finish.
Chicago is going to be my first marathon because it is convenient; I live here, so getting here is simple. What better place to show off the culmination of all this training, then by taking a running tour of this town? There will be a couple hundred thousand neighbors cheering me on (and the other 36,000+ people! thirty-six thousand!). For many, just finishing the race is their only goal. However, I'm driven by tangible goals, so I had to set something to target. For my first half-marathon, I'd set a goal of sub-2:00. I failed miserably due to over training, a lack of body awareness, and generally being under prepared. This year, sub-2:00 was my initial goal, and I was very confident that I was going to achieve it. I had been training at a 9:00 mile pace, so holding that would get me in at 1:57:54. However, the day before my race, my good friend sent me her half-marathon race result of 1:56:37, with a taunting email subject of "Beat This!". Well, that just wouldn't do! I pushed myself hard that race, and came in at 1:48:56, averaging an 8:19 pace. I had to push hard the last 5k to do that, but it felt great reporting a sub-1:50:00 time.
I've been training all year at a 9:00 pace, running in the 6:00am group out of Montrose Beach with the excellent <a href="http://cararuns.org/">Chicago Area Runners Association</a> (side-note: I can't say enough good things about CARA. If you are training for a marathon, don't look anywhere else for your summer training. More about that in another post.). That pace puts me at the finish line with a time of 3:55:48, giving me 4:12 of wiggle room. Barring injury, accident, or mental breakdown, I'll be finishing the marathon with a big 'ole Three at the start of my time, and it will feel great. If you are bored, or already plan on being along the course, I'll be the tall white guy with long dark hair, wearing a yellow shirt with 10017 pinned to my chest. I'm probably going to be in my own head, calculating splits and pace and thinking of all the lines I should change in these posts when I get back home, and eventually crawling across the finish line, and hobbling my way home.
And then I'm going to cry, because I need to pace 6:52 in order to get into Boston.

A Marathon in Three Parts, Goal the Third

Everything in threes, but before the third comes the second and after one comes number two. As a logical extension to my first goal of crossing the start line, my second goal is to cross the finish line. It sounds like a simple goal, going hand in hand with the motto of "finish what you start." However, a lot can happen in 26 miles and 385 yards.
A lot has happen in the last two years and four months.
This is going to get pretty sappy, and my story is a terrible cliche, but it's my story, and that is what is unique about it. On 29 April 2011, my son was born. It was a long, stressful, exhausting, glorious event. There are few things that I have known that I have wanted in my life. Getting married and having children have been the two strongest (desires/needs/events? I'm terrible with words). The kidlet was born, and shortly thereafter he started crawling, then waddling, then running all over the place; and I was exhausted. Just absolutely worn out all the time. I had to fix this.
Also, I turned 30 that year - which didn't help things.
In high school, I ran cross-country and track. I competed in a pair of 10k <a href="http://waucondaparks.org/wauconda-fest/wauconda-fest-5k-10k-race/">local races</a>, finishing with terrible times. I don't really know why, but running sounded like a great idea at the time. I signed up for the 2012 Rock and Roll Chicago Half-Marathon, and training began in late 2011. I started with a Couch-to-5k program (I don't remember which one, but they are great programs, and the perfect place to start). Once I got to the point where I could actually run the three miles, I went to the <a href="http://universalsole.com/">local running store</a> and replaced my 13 year old shoes (leftover from high school). Winter hit, which kept me inside, but at least I was going to the gym and doing some weight training. Then came spring and summer, with more training, a terrible case of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plantar_fasciitis">plantar fasciitis</a>, and a 2:14:38 half-marathon - no where close to the two-hour goal I was aiming for. I couldn't walk for a day, I could only hobble for the next two days after that, and was fully a month before everything stopped hurting. It was a miserable, awful, never-going-to-do-it-again experience. I'm not sure how many runners quit at that point, but I almost did.
A month later, a friend of mine wanted to do the 2012 Hot Chocolate 15k. She's not really a runner, but after complaining all summer about not having a running partner, I wanted to support someone else getting into running. The race was terrible. My time was fantastic, but the race itself was awful. I don't think I'll ever do another Hot Chocolate race again, and probably avoid RAM Racing events in general. Not being injured the next day was a nice feeling, and I actually got back out on the road that week and ran some more. It felt nice. I was comfortable at this distance. I could do six miles or so without much effort, and I knew I could push myself to ten miles. This was alright.
Then I saw a marathon tattoo.
The wife and I took the dog and kid to the dog beach. On the way back, we stopped at the Redbox to pick out a movie for the night. There was a woman in front of us with a tattoo combining the Chicago flag and "26.2" on the back of her ankle. I was a little jealous of the tattoo, and almost immediately had an idea for how I'd improve it. A week later, I was still thinking about that tattoo, and how great it would look on my calf. A week after that, I found myself looking up marathon training programs. A week after that, a co-worker caught wind of it, and proceeded to pester me for the next three months to sign up for the Chicago Marathon. On 19 February 2013, I was one of many tens of thousands of people that helped crash the Chicago Marathon registration page.
There I was, with a registration confirmation, a tattoo to earn, a new membership to CARA, and registration to three other races (Lakefront 10 Miler, Soldier Field 10 Miler, RnR Half). This was going to happen, and I only had 236 days to get ready for it.
In two days, all that time will have passed. Cross the finish line means I can call myself a marathoner.
It also means I get to go get a tattoo.

A Marathon in Three Parts, Goal Number Two

Goals are good, goals are great, goals help keep you straight.
I have fifteen days until I run my first marathon.
Taper depression is a thing.
Randomness.
For any given race, I have three goals that I strive for. As with any trio of related goals, I keep one as a near guarantee of success, another as a probable success, and a third that would be nice, but isn't as important as the other two. My first goal is always: Cross the Start Line. Shortly after 7:30, on 13 October 2013, I will be crossing the starting line for my first marathon. There will be roughly 10,000 people in front of me, and approximately 35,000 people behind me. I still need to pause and soak that in every time I think about it. Forty-five thousand people.
Getting to the start line is certainly a significant goal in and of itself. It will have been 18 weeks of formal training, building on a year of self-training. I have logged over 600 miles this year; a vast increase over the 100 or so I ran last year. Countless hours have been spent reading and researching about training programs, injury prevention, injury treatments, diet, carbohydrate loading, protein portions, energy gels, hydration methods, foam rolling, split tracking… the list goes on and on. I have probably spent more time thinking about running, actually running, or recovering from running than anything else since February 19th (when I received my registration confirmation - for the third time). It has certainly been a stressful strain on all parts of my life. I have had much less free time to spend with my son, and thus have had to defer a lot of parental duties onto my wife. I've missed being able to put him to bed most nights, because I have to be up early running. As of late, I haven't been able to chase him around as much, because I'm limping around on sore legs, hips, and/or knees (which is terrible ironic, since I started running because I was out of shape and had trouble keeping up with him). My work has suffered as I've been distracted with all the reading and researching. My social life has plummeted to nearly nothing, what with spending most evenings running and my Friday nights cut short due to early Saturday runs.
It has been a long journey, and now that I am in the final weeks, I am keeping a close eye on my mood. The endorphin that was released through 16 weeks of pushing my body is going to come in a small trickle, and runners have experienced extreme depression in the weeks leading up to the marathon. Being grumpy and irritable (different from normal, how?), depressed and extra stressed is something that I want to be aware of. And rambling - apparently rambling is also a part of this because that seems to be all that I am capable of doing. Just a stream of words typed out? ok? this isn't being productive.
Cross the Start Line
On October 13th, I'll get out of bed at 4:30, follow the same morning routine that I've followed each Saturday morning for the last 16 weeks, and roughly three hours later complete goal number one.

Rovani's Sandbox

Blog Posts - Page 15

Rovani in C♯

A Marathon in Three Parts, Epilogue

A Marathon in Three Parts, Goal the Third

A Marathon in Three Parts, Goal Number Two

A Marathon in Three Parts, The First Goal