Thursday, March 30, 2006

4.2 Miles

4.2 miles on the office dreadmill, 32 minutes or so, forgot my watch. Still trying to take it easy with the right adductors. Think they're getting better, Idunno, better rest now until Sunday, 10-13 miles.

I've been puzzling over what it is, precisely, that seems to annoy people about other people talking on cell phones in public spaces. All over the place, there are signs prohibiting cell phone usage, at health clubs, for example. Why, exactly. It doesn't really bother me, okay sometimes, but I know it does seem to really annoy a lot of folks. I heard something about airlines considering allowing cell phone usage during flights, so it's got me pondering.

So, obviously people don't mind, in general, people talking with each other in person in public. What is it about a person talking to another person through a cell phone? Some ideas I've come up with.

  • The public only gets to hear half the conversation of a cell phone conversation. It's fun eavesdropping on in-person conversations, but eavesdropping on cell phone conversations by comparison is just frustrating.

  • I'm not sure why, but phone conversations tend to often be of a more personal nature than in-person conversations. Maybe the phone acts as a proxy for the Catholic confessional. In any case this observation suggests a problem. Urinating in public is considered disgusting, for example. Why. Because it's an activity which should be done in private, no one wants to see or think about that. When you're listening to private conversation on a cell phone in public, it's a similar situation. You're witnessing and enduring what should be the private activity of another.

  • There is an implicit and probably mostly unconscious assumption in human society that, when in a public space, other humans are available for standard human interaction. For example, to query what time it is, or to inform that the plane is about to crash so they better buckle up. A person talking on a cell phone is explicitly making themselves unavailable for this kind of standard in-person interaction, and this is annoying to those wishing to interact. They're basically saying, screw you, I have better things to do than be available for any interaction with you.

  • One counter to the above. People with headphones on in public, listening to music, don't seem to elicit the irritation of others. But that could be because they are retreating into themselves, like sleep; we can all understand the desire to tune out. This is different from the cell phone where the user isn't tuning out, but interacting with an alternative.

  • Some people simply tend to talk louder on cell phones than they do in during in-person conversations. Not sure this is true, but it's my sense.

  • This point may be archaic since early cell phones usage was reserved for the more well-to-do, though there may be residual effects. People talking on cell phones in public often seem to have a sense of sounding, well, self-important. Whatever the reason.

What bothers me about cell phones is how there's a whole generation evolving who spend so much time submerged in random aimless cell phone chatter with friends, that I fear the it's a generation with little concept of what it's like to be alone with your thoughts. God, I sound like an old fart. Bingo!

Oh, so how about this idea. How about bringing back the phone booth. New ones, designed for cell phone use. Eventually it would be considered uncouth to use a cell phone without ducking into one. They could be cozy and filled with messages from paid sponsors. Brilliant.

This is the kind of evolutionary psychological puzzle someone like Steven Pinker might have some interesting opinions on.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006


Still resting adductors. 3.5 mile power walk on the treadmill. This short short story never fails to amuse me ...

My Financial Career
by Stephen Leacock

When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me. The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot. I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.

So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must needs consult the manager. I went up to a wicket marked “Accountant.” The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.

“Can I see the manager?” I said, and added solemnly, “alone.” I don't know why I said “alone.”

“Certainly,” said the accountant, and fetched him.

The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.
“Are you the manager?” I said. God knows I didn't doubt it.

“Yes,” he said.

“Can I see you,” I asked, “alone?” I didn't want to say “alone” again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.

The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to reveal.

“Come in here,” he said, and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock.

“We are safe from interruption here,” he said; “sit down.”

We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.

“You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume,” he said.

He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.

“No, not from Pinkerton's,” I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency.

“To tell the truth,” I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it,“ I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank.”

The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.

“A large account, I suppose,” he said.

“Fairly large,” I whispered. “I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly.”
The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.

“Mr. Montgomery,” he said unkindly loud, “this gentleman is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning.”

I rose.

A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.

“Good morning,” I said, and stepped into the safe.

“Come out,” said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way.

I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick.

My face was ghastly pale.

“Here,” I said, “deposit it.” The tone of the words seemed to mean, “Let us do this painful thing while the fit is on us.”

He took the money and gave it to another clerk.

He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes.

“Is it deposited?” I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice.

“It is,” said the accountant.

“Then I want to draw a cheque.”

My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a chequebook through a wicket and someone else began telling me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it.

“What! are you drawing it all out again?” he asked in surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me.

Reckless with misery, I made a plunge.

“Yes, the whole thing.”

“You withdraw your money from the bank?”

“Every cent of it.”

“Are you not going to deposit any more?” said the clerk, astonished.


An idiot hope struck me that they might think something had insulted me while I was writing the cheque and that I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper.

The clerk prepared to pay the money.

“How will you have it?” he said.


“How will you have it?”

“Oh” - I caught his meaning and answered without even trying to think - “in fifties.”

He gave me a fifty-dollar bill.

“And the six?” he asked dryly.

“In sixes,” I said.

He gave it me and I rushed out.

As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006


Resting right adductors. Elliptical, 65 minutes. I love this man ...

Was I clever enough? Was I charming?
Did I make at least one good pun?
Was I disconcerting? Disarming?
Was I wise? Was I wan? Was I fun?

Did I answer the girl with white shoulders
Correctly, or should I have said
(Engagingly), "Kierkegaard smolders,
But Eliot's ashes are dead"?

And did I, while being a smarty,
Yet some wry reserve slyly keep,
So they murmured, when I'd left the party,
"He's deep. He's deep. He's deep"?

— John Updike, Thoughts While Driving Home

Monday, March 27, 2006

Borges and I

The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to. I walk through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name on a list of professors or in a biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typography, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson; he shares these preferences, but in a vain way that turns them into the attributes of an actor.

It would be an exaggeration to say that ours is a hostile relationship; I live, let myself go on living, so that Borges may contrive his literature, and this literature justifies me. It is no effort for me to confess that he has achieved some valid pages, but those pages cannot save me, perhaps because what is good belongs to no one, not even to him, but rather to the language and to tradition. Besides, I am destined to perish, definitively, and only some instant of myself can survive in him. Little by little, I am giving over everything to him, though I am quite aware of his perverse custom of falsifying and magnifying things.

Spinoza knew that all things long to persist in their being; the stone eternally wants to be a stone and the tiger a tiger. I shall remain in Borges, not in myself (if it is true that I am someone), but I recognize myself less in his books than in many others or in the laborious strumming of a guitar. Years ago I tried to free myself from him and went from the mythologies of the suburbs to the games with time and infinity, but those games belong to Borges now and I shall have to imagine other things. Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.

I do not know which of us has written this page.

— Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986)

Sunday, March 26, 2006

14.1 Miles

I narrowed down the problem in my right leg, pretty sure it's what's called the adductor longus, or possibly adductor magnus or adductor brevis or gracilis or sartorius, or any/all of the above. After day of rest and despite some occasional lurking soreness there, went out for my long run of the week — 14.1 miles, 1:39:20, 7:03 average pace. Usual 3.1 lake circuit route, three times around, splits: 6:59, 6:47, 22:23 (7:13), 21:49 (7:02), 21:56 (7:05), 6:52, 6:32, and 7:26 pace for final 0.8.

Started out pretty sucky, thought I might bag it within the first half mile. Adductor bothering me, not quite painful, but just about, but gradually altered my gait to accomodate. I worry about doing this, it could lead to secondary stresses/injuries, but tried to be careful and attentive. It's very tiring and tiresome to pay close attention to form to workaround an issue. I had to shorten my (normally rather long) stride, and pick up my right leg sooner than normal, and bend the knee more, reducing the stress when swinging it forward, stride rate increased.

Mentally stressful jaunt, hoping I'm doing the right thing, hoping I'm not making it worse. Gradually settled into and got as comfortable as I could with the compromise I had to make with the whining adductor. But then around mile 7 or 8, I found I was relaxing more, letting my stride open up, with little to no discomfort. By mile 10 or 11 felt like I was cruising (but still worrying, it's what I do, my forte,) virtually no adductor issue.

So what is that. Was it just really tight, needed warming up, or did I numb it into submission. I guess I'll know tomorrow if it's really sore. I'll rest, but probably walk a mile or three.

What a beautiful day though, much warmer than forecast, nearing 50F, cloudy, but when the sun came it out put a spring in my stride. Thanks God, six months of winter is finally nearing an end.

Made reservations for the Vermont City Marathon, the point of no return, I think I have to go through with this. I see from the handbook I received that Patty Catalano is a guest speaker — I remember her from the early 80's. She was a druggie or something, a mess apparently, got cleaned up and became this incredible marathoner.

My older sister started running around that time; her first running experience — snuffed out her last cigarette, ran for a half mile, vomitted, and slept the rest of the day. We ran quite a bit together after that in those days. She was especially impressed and inspired by Catalano. She had, as I recall, a pretty quirky form, one leg flying off in an odd direction. Whatever, she ran sub 2:30:00, and held the American record for a time. Apparently she slid into depression and homelessness after all that, but is making another comeback now, at 50. Might be interesting to hear her speak.

I see a bunch of seminars or whatever at the Sheraton for the VCM, mile-by-mile course preview, for example. Sounds pretty goofy, wonder if any of that's interesting. I figure I'll at least drive the course a couple times. And it's hard imagine any mile-by-mile preview beating this VCM course description.

Friday, March 24, 2006


I've been blessed over the years to have only had a single injury issue, my shins. Knees, achilles, plantar fascia, all fine. I don't even know what the hell an IT band is (I've done those ITB stretches and don't feel anything's getting stretched, whatever they are, mine are wicked awesome.)

The right shin had been trouble for a good year after starting running more consistently again a couple years ago. It cleared up last fall but moved to my left shin. That's been okay now for a couple weeks. Well now the trouble's moved on to my right hamstring. It's a zero sum game for me apparently.

I think it's my hamstring that's trouble anyway. It seems to be so deep within my thigh, just above midway, that it could be the ham or quad. But I think I'll classify it as hamstring trouble since if I apply pressure from below, with The Stick for example, I feel a little pain, but when applying pressure from above it's fine.

The trouble began during my 20 miler last weekend, felt some twinges, tightness, discomfort in my right hamstring or quad, but it seemed to get better after a while. Took a day off, then ran 5.6 and 6.5 miles on the treadmill at work on Tuesday and Wednesday respectively, typical progression from high 7:00s to mid/high 6:00s. It wasn't too painful, just pressure, but wasn't any getting better, so took yesterday off.

Today, 4.5 miles on the home Landice. Definitely still an issue. But the good thing was, normalizing for the hamstring problem, I felt really strong. Running at 6:50 pace hasn't felt so easy on the mill in a long time. I can even imagine getting back to my good old 4-6 mile treadmill tempos at 6:35 to 6:15.

So despite this minor setback, I'm optimistic. Just hope I'm okay by Sunday to do the 14 miles I should be running, but need be mindful to cut it if it goes badly. I'll be paying more attention to my stride. On the treadmill I was really noticing how my stride rate/length effected the discomfort. I think running faster is actually more comfortable, and I think that's because I'm bending my knee more when swinging the leg forward — shortening the pendulum. I have noticed my tendency on longer slower run to sort of drag my rear leg, letting it hang back, sliding it forward, not picking it up so much, maybe creating extra stress on the hamstrings.

Anyway not so bad, still thrilled about the lack of shin issues, life's good, healthy, settling into the new job, saw Z in her opening of Really Rosie tonight, then excellent dinner at the new Indian bistro in town, what else is there.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

First 20 Miler

My first 20 miler, in 2:26:00 (7:18 average pace), subtracted 33 seconds for waiting time crossing Main Street twice). Five times around my lake, Lake Quannapowitt — given the number of times I've run around the sucker in the past two years, I feel I really can call it my lake. A 3.1 mile circuit, 2 miles there, 2.5 miles back. Splits: 6:38, 6:34, 22:29 (7:15), 22:52 (7:23), 22:42 (7:19), 22:56 (7:24), 23:31 (7:35), 7:32, 6:48, 3:53 (7:46).

Dandy time until 11 or so, except for some issues with my right quad from about 3 to 8, tightness or kink or weakness or something, funny how it goes away after a while, beat it into submission I guess. And it was too cold! Thought it was supposed to get into the 40's today, but no such luck, mid 30's at best, wind whipping across lake though not as brutal as other times, was annoying.

Really working by 12 and couldn't quite maintain pace without risking the run, conventional wisdom sez I should be running way slower anyway, whatever. I was the Tin Man in need of an oil can for the last circuit, legs locking up, left ham, and especially those large ligaments (tendons?) behind knees/quads (biceps femoris?), feet started feeling tired, and buttocks even, new issues arise with each increase in mileage. But all aerobic, not breathing hard at all really.

Death march up the half mile hill on the way back, during mile 18, though it did feel good (not the right word) getting off the lake flats, changing stride pattern, and managed to brute force out a 6:48 final mile. Definitely getting stronger, form's getting better, feel I'm landing softer and evenly more consistently, even late in the game.

Tough, but not much more so than 16 miler a couple weeks ago, and recovered better, at least no digestive issues. Went right to my health club for some time in the hot tub and pool and a shower — our (only full) bathroom is being remodeled so we're without a bath/shower for the week. But a wave of fatigue came over me on the way home, collapsed into bed for over an hour. My legs will be sore tomorrow I bet.

This needs to get easier. It takes so much time, preparing, running, recovering, most of the day is shot, good grief I have a family afterall. What a self absorbing and selfish activity! I need to start this process earlier in the morning. Stayed up late-ish last night introducing my daughter (11) to one of my favorite movies — My Dinner With André; she fell asleep but enjoyed it, she loves the theatre and appreciated most of the conversation. J (8) watched for a bit too, he instantly recognized Wally Shawn as the dinosaur in Toy Story :-)

The best thing is, no shin issues! That I can tell. I'm still apprehensive about even probing with my fingers much, but for the first time, ever, I sense that they're only getting stronger now. And a 50 mile week, a new world record. Progress!

"A baby holds your hands and then suddenly there's this huge man lifting you off the ground, and then he's gone. Where's that son?" — André Gregory

Friday, March 17, 2006


Third week at the new job, going okay. And the running situation is good, the fitness room in the building is so convenient. I ran every day this week, 30 miles total, 4.2, 6.5, 6.5, 6.2, and 6.6. Amazing for me. Monday was recovery from my awesome Half Marathon last weekend, I was pretty dang tired though. Tuesday and Wednesday were okay. Thursday was no fun at all for some reason, really dragging. Today was better, in my Nike Frees. All pretty similar paces, around 7:50 down to 6:30, 7:08 average or so, mostly 1.5 incline, first/last 2.0-5.0.

Workouts have probably been way too homogeneous according to conventional wisdom, but I'm just trying to get my mileage up, build some base, as I've never really done before, and most importantly, without breaking down my shins. And thanks God, they both seem to be holding up okay, knock on wood, a breakthrough possibly. This is also what's keeping me motivated. I'm agnostic, but I made a deal with God a while back — if He fixes my shins, then I'll work hard and train for a marathon. I'm on the hook.

And today I got my Vermont City Marathon Handbook in the mail. It's got me excited and anxious. I realized that I'm nearly constantly in a state of low level anxiety about running, it's so silly I know, it's not like it's actually important, I guess this qualifies as an obsession, why else would I be publicly blogging about it. Midlife crisis scheiss. If I don't go for it now, I'll regret it forever.

At the same time I can't believe I'm doing this, it' hard, I'm staring down the barrel of a 19 miler this weekend and it's freaking stressing me out, why. This is a voluntary activity, right? I don't have to do this. Doesn't feel like it though, voices in my head — lazy bugger, get moving, get to work, run. It won't be so bad, did 16.5 two weeks ago, I survived, just one more time around my lake. Concentrate on the benefits, getting stronger, my resting heart rate is noticably slower in the past couple weeks, definitely below 50 now.

I'm such a Charlie Brown, still can't fully commit psychologically, but I'm going through the motions. Making arrangements for the weekend in Burlington, Vermont, but at the same time, I can't believe I'm actually going to do this thing. I only hope that after a couple longer runs, the idea of running a marathon will be similar to what I feel about the half marathon, which used to seem almost unimaginably far to me, but which I now can run at a faster pace than I ran 5K races less than two years ago.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Boston's Run To Remember Half Marathon

Ran my second Half Marathon ever, inside of two weeks, 1:26:43 (6:37 average pace), 133rd out of 4135. Mile splits: 6:15, 6:36, 6:30, 6:42, 6:37, 6:32, 6:42, 6:46, 6:36, 6:41, 6:42, 6:46, 6:34. Legs are fine, digestion not so good, ate too late last night (around 8:00pm, for an 8:20am start.)

Hardest part of this race (most races) is getting up early. Up at 5:00am, still dark, memories of a 10 year old me in 1969, up early to go fishin' with my Grandpa and his buddy Rufus Fog, both long since dead. I loved the trunk of Grandpa's Chevy, filled with a manly array of tools, stuff. RIP. Time to run.

I like getting to the event early, get the number/chip, mill around, pee, drink, wait in line, pee, etc. Big race, thousands, not even nervous, too early, I'm learning not to fear the race, I'll rise to it, always do, no matter how tired/heavy I feel jogging about beforehand, somehow the racing me emerges when called upon.

Only minor crisis was the the little nose thingy on my glasses broke off literally 2 minutes before the start, a kind soul picked it up and handed it to me, but I dropped it again, no matter, just lopsided glasses for the race, perhaps I should get some goofy sports glasses or something for racing, I don't mind looking like Ichabod Crane.

Felt almost like a real runner - there were pace/place signs for 11:30 pace down to 7:30 pace; I know I'm good for a 6:50 pace, at least based on my last/first HM performance two weeks ago, so I'm pretty far up front, not too far behind the elites. Go. We're off, feeling good off the bat, sweet, cruising, blew by mile one in 6:15, a 5 mile pace for me not half marathon pace, crap, oh well, adrenaline flows, like getting the first mile out of the way quick, and it's fun running with dudes out of my league for a bit.

Settled in after that to an average 6:35-6:45 pace. Really not sure I'd be able to hold if for 13; 8 sure, 10 probably, but 13, dunno, let's try it, an experiment. Pleasantly surprised how I felt by 7, still relaxed. Chatting with co-runners, more than in any other race. Around 8 miles a guy offers me a hit of his Gu - uh, thanks, but no (he said he knows it's kinda gross but sometimes people get desperate - really? Thanks God, I'm not desparate.

So what's with these occasional guys passing me and breathing like hell, just one or two, not sure if I ever passed them back, but I was sure I would. Maybe they have a completely different aerobic/muscular profile then me. I'm breathing pretty easy, but the leg muscles are gradually getting more and more fatigued. Maybe these guys have incredibly strong non-fatigue-able legs but but need to huff and puff.

So I'd taken Gu at around 7, not really experienced with this, just figured it'd give me a lift; I know a tiny bit of candy/snickers before the start is a nice boost. First real negative thoughts around 8.5, but not too bad, slowed a bit, let a couple people go, don't let ego get in the way, let 'em go if you can't stay with 'em. And it turned out I caught a few later anyway. But either Gu or placebo helped me pick it up, cruising again. Then, about 11 miles, almost hit a wall, not really, too dramatic, but really getting tired, right around Boston Common on the way back, felt like I was done. Caught up with a female (fifth overall I found out), hung with her for a while, helped keep me going a bit.

Then the shortness of the remaining distance was my aphrodisiac, just 2 miles, then 1.5, I can take any pain for 1.5 miles, right? Started pushing, and picked it up with 1.1 to go, and some uphill to contend with, feeling almost springy, almost. Smoked the fifth female. Spotted M, Z and J near the finish, which was great, then they anounced my name - a nice touch, one other race I ran did that. 1:26:43, bettered last HM PR by well over 2 minutes. Yeah baby.

Great race overall, miles not flying by like at the Hyannis race, but I was working harder. Fun running through the streets of Boston with thousands of others, over Longfellow Bridge, right past my office building.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Busy Bee

New job, no energy to obsessively itemize running details. Ran Tuesday through Friday this week on the office building fitness room dread at lunch time, not a soul in site, just daytime TV (today, inane local News heads, morons on Millionaire, and All My Chilin' or some such nonesense) and my iPod Shuffle (need to get a new playlist.) 25.1 miles total for the week so far (not bad for me), mostly 1.5 incline, 7:45 to 6:45 pace, 7:08-ish average.

Something compelled me to sign up for another Half Marathon this weekend -- Boston's Run To Remember -- just two weeks after the Hyannis Half Marathon and a 16.5 miler last weekend. But feeling okay. Need to do another long run (though 13 isn't technically long anymore), and a race motivates me, even if I don't actually race all out (and I probably won't/shouldn't.)

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Four Times Around

Lake Quannapowitt, 2 miles there, four times around (3.1 miles each), and 2.1 miles back - 16.5 miles, 1:58:05, 7:09 average pace. Sunny, high 30's. My longest run ever. I'm beat. Bad planning, didn't have enough recovery drink in the house, too exhausted to go out. Just one bottle of my whey/gatorade concoction. No appetite at all. Waited for M to get home from the grocer to get more. Collapsed into a warm shower for half an hour, and into bed for another half. Zzzzzz.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Back to Work

After Sunday's hurdle, the Hyannis Half Marathon (1:29:28), another hurdle Monday morning, first day on the new job. Surprisingly low key, easing in, interesting how as you get older you naturally seem to get a pass from others, no one's hovering, or even that interested, assumed you can take care of yourself. Been a long while since I've had a new job, like 9 years!

Starting to get up to speed with Java 5, Tomcat, iBatis, Spring, yadayada. Idunno, the Java community I think is insane sometimes, obsessed with every Tom, Dick, and Harry open source project which blips the radar, for many small to medium sized projects/apps Pojo (plain old Java objects) will do just fine, screw the frameworks. Anyway, can't officially criticize until I've had some actual experience. And Java classpath hell is already rearing its ugly head; .NET is technically superior, imo, though I'd have to think/research long/hard to more precisely justify that statement.

Anywho, running, yeah, so, took a day off after the HM, quads wicked sore (DOMS). Then 3.5 miles Tuesday on the home Landice at freaking 6:30AM, ugh, and with a headache, recovery, ya right. Then Wednesday, 6.2 miles in the free fitness room of my new office building. Yesterday and today, 5.2 miles. All low-ish 7:00's average pace, fairly fatigued though, from HM race still I think. Feel like I'm getting slower, haven't done any speedwork for a while, and can't imagine doing 6:35-6:20 pace 4-5 mile treadmill tempos like I used to do, last one was exactly two months ago. But I feel like I shouldn't worry about it, need to try to build miles without injuring my shin further (or anything else), speed will come later, right? Right.

So this new office building on mine has at least 16 floors, must be hundreds of people working there, fitness room has two dreadmills, one elliptical, two stationary bikes, a couple muscle thingies, and a partridge in a pear tree. In three days spending 40-55 minutes there, around lunch time, not one other person in sight. What's up with that? Fine with me, but not one other person in the entire building works out at lunch time?? And it's been f-ing cold out. Bizzare, it could be a Twighlight Zone episode. Maybe I'm the only one who knows about it.