Game Over

After many, many months of avoiding its wrath, The Wall struck back with a vengeance today.

I have been upping the intensity and tempo of my workouts recently in an effort to make a push to qualify for Boston at the Long Beach Marathon in October. Sand has been my terrain of choice, which has been soothing for my bum ankle, but has taken some getting used to for my legs. It's also been wonderful to take advantage of cool mornings along the Pacific Ocean. Beach running is quite tranquil. Plus, when the tide goes out, the footing is secure and solid. I've noticed that the hard-packed sand still dissipates a lot more energy than does concrete, but it's not so choppy that it breaks up my cadence.

After a weekend away from running due to traveling, I was eager to kick up the distance this weekend (while at the same time staying productive at work on Saturday and Sunday), so I devised a schedule that looked something like this...

Friday night: sleep four hours
Saturday morning: run four hours (25–30 miles)
Saturday night: sleep four hours
Sunday morning: run four hours (25–30 miles)

Saturday's run was fast and punishing, covering a course that was roughly ten miles on sand and went over the two steepest hills in La Jolla. Naturally, I had the bright idea to repeat this course on Sunday morning. After a rocky first few miles, my pace steadied quite nicely, and it was shaping up to be a smooth run. Two and a half hours, I was making the turn back from Del Mar and heading home. I had consumed about 100 ounces of liquid and one energy bar (read: Snickers).

I crossed the long stretch of beach in the Torrey Pines reserve and began surmounting the hill along the tortuous footpath there. After a few minutes, I felt suddenly hollow and listless -- utter deflation, and ravenous hunger. I reached for my remaining energy bar, only to find out that it had fallen out of my pocket earlier in the run. At this point fatigue and desperation merged. I resorted to a mix of running and power walking. Unfortunately, I was still around seven miles away from home. After getting to the crest of the hill, I tried to ease my hunger by slurping down copious amounts of water from a drinking fountain, which did little, except leave me feeling wet, water-logged, and still hungry. I kept my legs churning towards home, and managed to get within a few blocks before my mind really started wandering to hidden corners of consciousness. The music that I was listening to (a familiar song that I've heard hundreds of times) sounded as if it was playing at twice its regular speed. The people that I passed seemed oddly alien -- they were on their way to the grocery store, while my mind and body were waging all out war on one another. I was light but my legs and body were heavy.

I entered my apartment and immediately started eating anything in sight: yogurt, cashews, bananas, Fritos, ice cream, and peaches. I cleaned up and tried to go about my day, but (as friends will attest to) my mind was not working normally -- not to mention the fact that my body kept bursting into random, profuse sweating fits during the day.

Truly, an epic journey that makes me curious what the end of a 100-miles race is like.

Boston (not the marathon, yet)

I've been in Boston for the past few days chaperoning a group of high school interns who are presenting research posters at the American Chemical Society (ACS) National Meeting.



Evidently I planned well for the rainy weather because I didn't even bring running shoes -- packing light in order to avoid checking luggage. Nevertheless, I did have an inspiring running moment in the middle of my trip.



Like a good Boston local, I spent a rainy Monday afternoon with my friend Margaret on a Duck Boat tour of downtown Boston. Beyond being interesting historical relics (given their military history as amphibious trucks), the Duck Boats actually provide a unique opportunity to have a look at Boston from within its bustling streets or from the more placid (and now mostly clean) Charles River. My motivating and inspiring moment came as we drove across the blue finish line for the Boston Marathon (not shown). I had been toying with the idea of qualifying for some time now (3:10:00 + 1 min buffer). However, since my dream of running a 100-mile trail ultra in early September recently died because my hectic travel schedule precluded me from getting in enough miles, I've become much more narrowly focused on become faster and BQing. Seeing the finish line in actuality crystallized my desire to qualify this fall. It's full speed ahead from here -- running, I mean, not driving a Duck Boat (awesome photos included).