Arjun stirred as I carefully lifted his pillow and searched around for the little plastic baggie in which he had saved the first tooth that he had lost earlier that day. I was playing tooth fairy, but with a mild sense of unease. I removed the tooth and replaced it with five 1-dollar bills, feeling at once a sense of satisfaction from fulfilling an expected role and a disquiet from the con (albeit harmless) I was perpetuating.
In the morning I pretended to be amazed at the generosity of the tooth fairy (Arjun had rather doubtfully expected one or two dollars the previous night) and congratulated him on his find. An unexpected (but not altogether surprising) effect was Abhi being upset that he hadn't gotten anything and bursting into tears. I pacified him by contributing a dollar to his (broken) piggy bank. Arjun was pretty stoked by the whole thing but I wasn't feeling particularly thrilled.
Looking into Arjun's trusting eyes, all round with the wonder of it all as he recounted how the tooth fairy had taken away his tooth, I really had to question why we did this. As adults we tend to tell many little lies to kids, rationalizing that it is all for their benefit: either they get some comfort from it or they just can't handle the truth. One common situation this occurs is when kids go on their endless "why" questions spree. I learned quickly that what I was comfortable with was to give them the most truthful answer that I could. And if I couldn't explain it to their level (or satisfaction) then that is exactly what I would tell them - that I cannot explain it any better. This eliminates the need to remember what I had told them and having to answer the question, "But why did you tell me that...?" At the same time, I do believe that childhood is a magical time that never comes back and I don't want to be one of those humorless parents who insist on exposing their kids to the "realities of life" (in their estimation) as early as possible. And so, I continue to push the fantasy of Santa and now the Tooth Fairy.
Maybe I am making too much of this and there is no significant impact from these little lies, but I cannot help thinking that every time a child realizes that he or she had been subject to a deception, some trust is lost. It is not the sort of stuff that leads to therapy sessions or even resentment (at least I hope not), but there is still a loss. But then, maybe that is what growing up is all about: taking off the rose colored glasses.
At least in this case, the matter resolved itself. In the evening, I received a call from Malini - apparently, Arjun had found out from his friend Suraj that it was no tooth fairy that had placed the money under his pillow, but instead it was me. He was upset and confused. As is his wont, he was in tears and asked if the tooth fairy did not take his tooth, then who did? And what would happen to all the teeth? Malini consoled him and said that we would talk after I came back home. Eventually we decided that it was best to just explain the truth and not prolong the deception. It turned out to be fine - he accepted the explanation and didn't seem terribly put out. He was happy to get his tooth back - apparently what had bothered him was not the actual lack of existence of a tooth fairy, but that given this fact, there was no good explanation to what had happened to his tooth. And so goes another little rite of passage through childhood. I am thinking that, at least in our house, Santa's days are numbered.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Limits
Arjun has always been a bit more interested in music than I think is average (he once requested a specific Bob Dylan song), but Abhi is a bit more derivative in his interests - usually, keying off what Arjun, Malini, or I like. With "Rock-On" it was different though - both boys firmly took possession of the album and Abhi, in particular would hum garbled phrases from the songs throughout the day. One line (from the title song) in particular used to puzzle me a great deal. He would go: "Hurlum Huppukkara." Now, I am the guy who sang, "Samjota Samose Kar Lo" instead of "Samjota Gumon Se Kar Lo" so who was I to throw stones? I finally asked Malini what Abhi was trying to say. Turned out the line is "Har Lamha Yehe Pukara."
Arjun is a lot more catholic in his musical taste - tolerating, and even enjoying almost anything I would play for him - Jazz, Carnatic, Hindi film music, and of course, ghazals. Abhi, on the other hand is a lot less tolerant of all this non-kid friendly music and doesn't hesitate to express his displeasure. While driving him to school every morning, if its not the Eagles (specifically, Hotel California, which he can listen to on a loop), it better be some kid's music. Of course, he is equally happy, if not happier, if I turn off the music and answer his questions about the cars next to us or specific situations that might arise in an NFL game.
Even so, I thought he was getting indoctrinated what with Malini also playing Ghulam Ali songs almost incessantly at home. Then one night I was trying to put the boys to sleep. Our normal modus operandi for this is to lie down with them, read them each their book selections, and then turn off the lights and fall asleep - there is no use pretending to do so - I tried that once and opened my eyes to find Abhi staring at me from about 2 inches away checking on me. Since sleep does not come that easily, I take requests for songs and they are usually some rhymes. On this night, I proposed a ghazal and Arjun agreed. Abhi demurred and then changed his mind - ghazal was ok with him. Invoking my best Ghulam Ali, I started:
Hum ko kiske gum ne mara...
Hum ko kiske gum ne mara... (repeating the opening line as in every ghazal rendition).
But, Abhi had already had enough. I was just starting to repeat the line again when he broke in with almost perfect timing: "Is that all you know, acha?"
I burst out laughing and while he had no idea why it was amusing, he took full credit for it and for several days afterwards would ask me to sing this song just so that he could interject with, "Is that all you know, acha?"
Arjun is a lot more catholic in his musical taste - tolerating, and even enjoying almost anything I would play for him - Jazz, Carnatic, Hindi film music, and of course, ghazals. Abhi, on the other hand is a lot less tolerant of all this non-kid friendly music and doesn't hesitate to express his displeasure. While driving him to school every morning, if its not the Eagles (specifically, Hotel California, which he can listen to on a loop), it better be some kid's music. Of course, he is equally happy, if not happier, if I turn off the music and answer his questions about the cars next to us or specific situations that might arise in an NFL game.
Even so, I thought he was getting indoctrinated what with Malini also playing Ghulam Ali songs almost incessantly at home. Then one night I was trying to put the boys to sleep. Our normal modus operandi for this is to lie down with them, read them each their book selections, and then turn off the lights and fall asleep - there is no use pretending to do so - I tried that once and opened my eyes to find Abhi staring at me from about 2 inches away checking on me. Since sleep does not come that easily, I take requests for songs and they are usually some rhymes. On this night, I proposed a ghazal and Arjun agreed. Abhi demurred and then changed his mind - ghazal was ok with him. Invoking my best Ghulam Ali, I started:
Hum ko kiske gum ne mara...
Hum ko kiske gum ne mara... (repeating the opening line as in every ghazal rendition).
But, Abhi had already had enough. I was just starting to repeat the line again when he broke in with almost perfect timing: "Is that all you know, acha?"
I burst out laughing and while he had no idea why it was amusing, he took full credit for it and for several days afterwards would ask me to sing this song just so that he could interject with, "Is that all you know, acha?"
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Reverie Harp
This is a somewhat unusual topic for me to blog about, but I have deemed it "blog-worthy." (I trust enough of my readers will get the thinly veiled Seinfeld allusion.)
I heard this last week on the classical music program, "Performance Today" (Weekdays 7-9pm, KPBS Radio) and while most of the details of the music they are playing go over my head, this segment was different. It introduced a new instrument called the "Reverie Harp" and its use in some forms of therapy. It is an instrument that was designed specifically for people with no musical skills and apparently almost anybody can learn to play it reasonably well in a very short period of time. Its not really a performance instrument - instead, as the name suggests, it is an instrument that is used to cause a reverie. One group of people who have found this instrument helpful are those dealing with impending death - folks who have been told that they have a limited time to live (possibly the most defining piece of news one could receive). This resonated (no pun intended) with me, and hence this post.
If you want to hear the PT segment, here is a link to the audio. The actual discussion about the Reverie Harp starts at 50:25 of the second hour. You can also read about it on the website of the creator of this instrument (Roberts).
I heard this last week on the classical music program, "Performance Today" (Weekdays 7-9pm, KPBS Radio) and while most of the details of the music they are playing go over my head, this segment was different. It introduced a new instrument called the "Reverie Harp" and its use in some forms of therapy. It is an instrument that was designed specifically for people with no musical skills and apparently almost anybody can learn to play it reasonably well in a very short period of time. Its not really a performance instrument - instead, as the name suggests, it is an instrument that is used to cause a reverie. One group of people who have found this instrument helpful are those dealing with impending death - folks who have been told that they have a limited time to live (possibly the most defining piece of news one could receive). This resonated (no pun intended) with me, and hence this post.
If you want to hear the PT segment, here is a link to the audio. The actual discussion about the Reverie Harp starts at 50:25 of the second hour. You can also read about it on the website of the creator of this instrument (Roberts).
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
It Never Rains, but it Pours
This story is well known within our San Diego crowd, at least those who have been around since 1996 or so. I have been meaning to record it for a while now, so here goes.
It was a Monday in early '96 and Rahul, Sanjay, and I were roommates in a 3-BR townhouse in Pacific Beach. I was enrolled in a UCSD Extension course and was taking the day off to prepare for the final. I was heading upstairs to the kitchen when I started feeling slightly woozy, but I managed to negotiate the stairs without issue. I had some cereal and still feeling a little light headed, went back down to my room. I was getting more dizzy and soon nausea hit me and I just made it to the bathroom to heave up my stomach contents. I could barely stand and stumbled back to my bed. Subsequent trips to the bathroom had to be done on all fours. The only way to avoid nausea was to lie face down on my bed and remain completely still. Clearly, this was not a sustainable situation, so I dragged myself across the hallway and knocked on Sanjay's door. He responded after a while:
Me: "Hey Sanjay, I am not feeling too good. Can you drive me to the hospital?"
Sanjay (in a feeble voice): "Actually, I am not feeling good either. I was about to ask you to take me to the doctor."
Me: "What happened to you?"
Sanjay: "I am not sure, but I think I have Chicken Pox." I crawled back to my room. Rather conveniently, Rahul had left town earlier in the morning.
After some time, I called up RD and he came by as soon as he could. He offered to drive me to the hospital, but I refused - I didn't think I could tolerate the movement. He called 911. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but since RD was relaying all the questions to me I knew what they were asking:
911 Operator: "What's the problem?"
RD: "My friend is not well and needs to go to the hospital."
Op: "Can he move?" (RD to me:"Can you move?" Me: "No!")
Op: "Is there any blood?" (RD to me: "Is there any blood?" Me: "No!")
Op: "Can he talk?" (RD to me:"Can you...") "Yes, he can talk."
RD: "Can you send an ambulance?" And she said, sure, they could.
The ambulance showed up soon and the EMTs came in and established that I was not prepared to raise my head or move in any way. They strapped me to a stretcher and took me in. (A minor disappointment is that they saw no reason to turn on the siren on the way to the hospital.) RD was going to follow in his car and just as he was about to leave, Sanjay came out and asked if he could tag along.
I was wheeled into the ER and nurses and doctors milled about. Eventually I got the diagnosis - most likely an inner ear infection. Nothing to be done, except to sleep it off and oh, here is a prescription for some Codeine. I was feeling less nauseous now and walked out to the waiting room where Sanjay was waiting with his own diagnosis - confirmed chicken pox. RD drove us both home with a stop at a pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions. A rather miserable week ensued with both of us struggling to fend for ourselves. Meanwhile the one guy who could have helped us - our third roommate Rahul - was enjoying his visit to Boulder. Oh sure, he expressed his sympathies by email and wished he could be there. But it all turned out ok: As soon as he came back from his trip, he came down with Chicken Pox.
It was a Monday in early '96 and Rahul, Sanjay, and I were roommates in a 3-BR townhouse in Pacific Beach. I was enrolled in a UCSD Extension course and was taking the day off to prepare for the final. I was heading upstairs to the kitchen when I started feeling slightly woozy, but I managed to negotiate the stairs without issue. I had some cereal and still feeling a little light headed, went back down to my room. I was getting more dizzy and soon nausea hit me and I just made it to the bathroom to heave up my stomach contents. I could barely stand and stumbled back to my bed. Subsequent trips to the bathroom had to be done on all fours. The only way to avoid nausea was to lie face down on my bed and remain completely still. Clearly, this was not a sustainable situation, so I dragged myself across the hallway and knocked on Sanjay's door. He responded after a while:
Me: "Hey Sanjay, I am not feeling too good. Can you drive me to the hospital?"
Sanjay (in a feeble voice): "Actually, I am not feeling good either. I was about to ask you to take me to the doctor."
Me: "What happened to you?"
Sanjay: "I am not sure, but I think I have Chicken Pox." I crawled back to my room. Rather conveniently, Rahul had left town earlier in the morning.
After some time, I called up RD and he came by as soon as he could. He offered to drive me to the hospital, but I refused - I didn't think I could tolerate the movement. He called 911. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but since RD was relaying all the questions to me I knew what they were asking:
911 Operator: "What's the problem?"
RD: "My friend is not well and needs to go to the hospital."
Op: "Can he move?" (RD to me:"Can you move?" Me: "No!")
Op: "Is there any blood?" (RD to me: "Is there any blood?" Me: "No!")
Op: "Can he talk?" (RD to me:"Can you...") "Yes, he can talk."
RD: "Can you send an ambulance?" And she said, sure, they could.
The ambulance showed up soon and the EMTs came in and established that I was not prepared to raise my head or move in any way. They strapped me to a stretcher and took me in. (A minor disappointment is that they saw no reason to turn on the siren on the way to the hospital.) RD was going to follow in his car and just as he was about to leave, Sanjay came out and asked if he could tag along.
I was wheeled into the ER and nurses and doctors milled about. Eventually I got the diagnosis - most likely an inner ear infection. Nothing to be done, except to sleep it off and oh, here is a prescription for some Codeine. I was feeling less nauseous now and walked out to the waiting room where Sanjay was waiting with his own diagnosis - confirmed chicken pox. RD drove us both home with a stop at a pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions. A rather miserable week ensued with both of us struggling to fend for ourselves. Meanwhile the one guy who could have helped us - our third roommate Rahul - was enjoying his visit to Boulder. Oh sure, he expressed his sympathies by email and wished he could be there. But it all turned out ok: As soon as he came back from his trip, he came down with Chicken Pox.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Child's Play
Lately, friday evening has become Xbox game night which means Madden NFL 10. Arjun was engrossed in a Saints Vs Redskins game and Abhi was getting antsy for his turn. In a bid to distract him, I suggested that he do his pretend game - this is something he is always doing: simulate the snap and then pretend to be the QB who throws an imaginary ball and after the throw is done, switch to being the receiver, who more often than not fails to make the catch. There is much rolling, tackling, and quite a few injuries, all accompanied by play-by-play narration. Each play is of course followed by a slow motion replay of what happened with added expert commentary.
Abhi quickly brightened upon my suggestion and right away went into the stance ready to snap the ball. In the Xbox game, you are given three or four choices for the play to run along with the button ('A', 'X', 'Y', etc) to press for the particular play. In a bid to make things a bit more interesting for Abhi, I pretended that I had a xbox remote in my hand and announced that I was pressing 'A.' He immediately liked this new variation and started insisting that I "press" a button before each snap. We did this a couple of times and both times the (pretend) receiver failed to hold on to the (pretend) ball. On the third occasion, the receiver apparently held on to the ball and proceeded to score a touchdown. I thought some celebration was indicated and enthusiastically beckoned Abhi to come for a high-five. All I got in response was a frown. I once again called, "Abhi, come, high-five - you scored a touchdown." Another frown and then in an exasperated tone, "Achaaaa, I am in the TV!"
You see, what I had failed to grasp was that this was not your run of the mill pretend NFL game - on the contrary this was a pretend version of a pretend game (Madden NFL 10), which any 3 year old will tell you, happens "inside the TV" and you certainly cannot high-five those players.
Abhi quickly brightened upon my suggestion and right away went into the stance ready to snap the ball. In the Xbox game, you are given three or four choices for the play to run along with the button ('A', 'X', 'Y', etc) to press for the particular play. In a bid to make things a bit more interesting for Abhi, I pretended that I had a xbox remote in my hand and announced that I was pressing 'A.' He immediately liked this new variation and started insisting that I "press" a button before each snap. We did this a couple of times and both times the (pretend) receiver failed to hold on to the (pretend) ball. On the third occasion, the receiver apparently held on to the ball and proceeded to score a touchdown. I thought some celebration was indicated and enthusiastically beckoned Abhi to come for a high-five. All I got in response was a frown. I once again called, "Abhi, come, high-five - you scored a touchdown." Another frown and then in an exasperated tone, "Achaaaa, I am in the TV!"
You see, what I had failed to grasp was that this was not your run of the mill pretend NFL game - on the contrary this was a pretend version of a pretend game (Madden NFL 10), which any 3 year old will tell you, happens "inside the TV" and you certainly cannot high-five those players.
My First Marathon
I was feeling anxious, tense even. It was Jan 23rd, the day before the 2010 Carlsbad Marathon and I had a sense of foreboding - surely something was going to go wrong and interfere with my run the next day. Would it be my gimpy IT-band? Would it be my increasingly queasy stomach? Or maybe I'd just sleep through the alarm on race morning? (I set two of them, just in case.) I spent the day taking note of every twinge and stiffness in every muscle and joint. Many folks asked me if I was "all set" and I really didn't know how to respond. Sure, I had done my preparation, but was I really "all set?"
The preparation had begun almost 5 months earlier, actually almost without realizing it. I had been running Miramar Lake (~5 miles) for almost an year, but didn't seriously believe that I could go much longer. Then I had a minor epiphany that the way to approach longer distances was to plan to take walking breaks in between. In a burst of determination, I put this theory to test that very weekend and ended up going 6 mi without stopping. Without really thinking much about it, I did 8, 10, and 11 in the succeeding weekends. Now there was no looking back - I had to give the marathon a shot. My friend Greg was partly responsible for my return to running in late 2008 and after starting from near-zero running till then, he was already doing 2 laps of Miramar Lake. He proposed the Silver Strand Half Marathon that was scheduled for Nov 15th and I quickly countered that we could use that as the half-way point for the Carlsbad Marathon, a suggestion that was not received seriously.
My guide was Hal Higdon's novice training schedule, which is an 18 week training schedule for first time marathoners. Since I had already worked up to 11 miles, I jumped in at week 6. The training was going mostly according to plan with only a few hiccups - the first time I did 13, 15, and 16 miles were rather difficult, for reasons mostly relating to heat, lack of sleep, etc. As Nov 15th approached, I eased off on the runs in anticipation of the Silver Strand - my maiden half marathon. The run started well, but, around mile 6, I felt a sharp pain on the outside of my right hip which eventually migrated to the outside of my right knee. The pain was bearable, though, and I finished under 2 hours, which had been my outside goal.
But the injury had me worried - how much would it set my training back? I started regular Chiropractor visits and with careful management, I was able to get back on schedule within a couple of weeks. As I looked ahead into the schedule, I realized that our Costa Rica trip, scheduled for the third week of December would be right when I was supposed to do the long runs - 18 & 20. I decided it was better to complete those runs before the trip and indeed had very good training runs of 14, 18, and 20 in the three weekends leading up to the trip. I ran a couple of times during the trip, but they were relatively difficult which I attributed to the high humidity. However, upon my return I found that my conditioning had indeed relapsed. I stepped up the mileage in a bid to gain it back, but without having the option of doing a really long one, I would have to depend on the recalled confidence from the 20 mile run which would be 6 weeks old by the time race day arrived.
So here I was, a day before the race all nervous and anxious about what to expect. The obvious question was how I would deal with the 20+ region - a region never ventured into before. Ironically, I was actually looking forward to that, but was on tenterhooks about a dozen other concerns. I had my pasta dinner and went to bed early, but woke up around 1am with a queasy stomach. However, an Alka Seltzer seemed to help and I was able to go back to sleep soon.
On race day, I woke up easily with my 3.30am alarm and my preparations went well and I was ready when Greg showed up at 4.30. The drive up there was peaceful and I was gratified to note the abundance of porta-potties since the lines for using them right before the race is usually a stressful affair.
It was a bit cool, but clearly I could eschew all warm gear for the run. As it turned out the weather was almost perfect for the entire run. The first part of the run was going as per plan and I did the Palomar Airport Road hill without any problems. Around mile 15, Greg and I were still running together (Greg's family had shown up unexpectedly at mile 14 to cheer us on) when I slowed to a walk to have my first gel pack (I had had a Powerbar at mile 10). I was hoping to find a water station soon after, but had to wait more than a mile to find one. At this point Greg had pulled ahead and stayed ahead for the rest of the race.
Going into the race, all the concern had been about the Palomar Airport hill, but what really affected me were the several sharp climbs in the later half of the race. The climb up to mile 18 was one of them, leading up to the Southern tip of the route, La Costa Avenue. I was running alone and trying hard to ignore the low back pain that had pretty much settled in and was rather unexpected. As I crossed mile 20 and began another climb, my legs started feeling rather heavy and I really wished I had stopped to stretch. I was still under the 4 hour pace though and needed to keep going if I was going to finish that way. However, as I got past mile 21, it was becoming rather obvious that the 4 hour goal was almost gone. I tried to find a good rhythm and pound on.
Around mile 22, I heard somebody loudly call out my name and I reluctantly lifted my head to realize that it was Vito - another friend from work and a strong runner on his own accord. He had shown up to cheer us on and fell in next to me with the idea of doing a mile or so with me. He soon realized that I was struggling and decided to just stay with me all the way. It was kind of funny how that helped me - I pushed myself just a bit more almost because I didn't want to disappoint Vito, who was expressing so much confidence in my ability to finish well. Still, I took about 4 walking breaks in the last 4 miles and I almost took another one towards the end, but Vito's exhortations kept me going. As turned the final bend, I finally noticed Malini and the boys (I had expected to see them at mile 25) on the side of the road. I waved and powered on to the finish line, posting a time of 4:05, which though only 5 minutes outside my goal, left me with a slightly disappointed feeling because of how close I had come (Greg finished in 3:50).
No doubt doing the long runs so much before the race played a part, but so did my poor nutrition during the run. I had almost no protein or fiber either in the morning or during the run and realized later that I had been really hungry. In the days following the run though, I began to feel better about my effort - after all, completing 26.2 miles in 4:05 is a significant accomplishment, no matter how much better it could have been.
An insight that will surprise no one is that attempting things like these are more a mental challenge than a physical one. Indeed, the long runs are as much mental training (most folks baulk at the thought of having to run for 4 hours, let alone having the physical stamina to do so) as they are physical conditioning. Race day itself is manageable - its one day after all - most everybody can talk themselves into going out and putting out one big effort. The real challenge is the discipline to stay with the 5-month long training program - doing all the runs no matter what the situation, week after week. A big part of why I was able to do this was the support of Malini and the boys - accommodating my weekday and weekend running schedule was hard enough - the vegetable I turned into after my long weekend run just added to it. Keeping me going even as my confidence waned closer to the race was a challenge on several levels. But now I get to return the favour: I have almost talked her into doing the La Jolla Half Marathon with me.
Some stats from my training:
Number of training runs: 70
Total mileage: 470
Longest run: 20 miles (on 12/13/09, 6 weeks before marathon).
The preparation had begun almost 5 months earlier, actually almost without realizing it. I had been running Miramar Lake (~5 miles) for almost an year, but didn't seriously believe that I could go much longer. Then I had a minor epiphany that the way to approach longer distances was to plan to take walking breaks in between. In a burst of determination, I put this theory to test that very weekend and ended up going 6 mi without stopping. Without really thinking much about it, I did 8, 10, and 11 in the succeeding weekends. Now there was no looking back - I had to give the marathon a shot. My friend Greg was partly responsible for my return to running in late 2008 and after starting from near-zero running till then, he was already doing 2 laps of Miramar Lake. He proposed the Silver Strand Half Marathon that was scheduled for Nov 15th and I quickly countered that we could use that as the half-way point for the Carlsbad Marathon, a suggestion that was not received seriously.
My guide was Hal Higdon's novice training schedule, which is an 18 week training schedule for first time marathoners. Since I had already worked up to 11 miles, I jumped in at week 6. The training was going mostly according to plan with only a few hiccups - the first time I did 13, 15, and 16 miles were rather difficult, for reasons mostly relating to heat, lack of sleep, etc. As Nov 15th approached, I eased off on the runs in anticipation of the Silver Strand - my maiden half marathon. The run started well, but, around mile 6, I felt a sharp pain on the outside of my right hip which eventually migrated to the outside of my right knee. The pain was bearable, though, and I finished under 2 hours, which had been my outside goal.
But the injury had me worried - how much would it set my training back? I started regular Chiropractor visits and with careful management, I was able to get back on schedule within a couple of weeks. As I looked ahead into the schedule, I realized that our Costa Rica trip, scheduled for the third week of December would be right when I was supposed to do the long runs - 18 & 20. I decided it was better to complete those runs before the trip and indeed had very good training runs of 14, 18, and 20 in the three weekends leading up to the trip. I ran a couple of times during the trip, but they were relatively difficult which I attributed to the high humidity. However, upon my return I found that my conditioning had indeed relapsed. I stepped up the mileage in a bid to gain it back, but without having the option of doing a really long one, I would have to depend on the recalled confidence from the 20 mile run which would be 6 weeks old by the time race day arrived.
So here I was, a day before the race all nervous and anxious about what to expect. The obvious question was how I would deal with the 20+ region - a region never ventured into before. Ironically, I was actually looking forward to that, but was on tenterhooks about a dozen other concerns. I had my pasta dinner and went to bed early, but woke up around 1am with a queasy stomach. However, an Alka Seltzer seemed to help and I was able to go back to sleep soon.
On race day, I woke up easily with my 3.30am alarm and my preparations went well and I was ready when Greg showed up at 4.30. The drive up there was peaceful and I was gratified to note the abundance of porta-potties since the lines for using them right before the race is usually a stressful affair.
It was a bit cool, but clearly I could eschew all warm gear for the run. As it turned out the weather was almost perfect for the entire run. The first part of the run was going as per plan and I did the Palomar Airport Road hill without any problems. Around mile 15, Greg and I were still running together (Greg's family had shown up unexpectedly at mile 14 to cheer us on) when I slowed to a walk to have my first gel pack (I had had a Powerbar at mile 10). I was hoping to find a water station soon after, but had to wait more than a mile to find one. At this point Greg had pulled ahead and stayed ahead for the rest of the race.
Going into the race, all the concern had been about the Palomar Airport hill, but what really affected me were the several sharp climbs in the later half of the race. The climb up to mile 18 was one of them, leading up to the Southern tip of the route, La Costa Avenue. I was running alone and trying hard to ignore the low back pain that had pretty much settled in and was rather unexpected. As I crossed mile 20 and began another climb, my legs started feeling rather heavy and I really wished I had stopped to stretch. I was still under the 4 hour pace though and needed to keep going if I was going to finish that way. However, as I got past mile 21, it was becoming rather obvious that the 4 hour goal was almost gone. I tried to find a good rhythm and pound on.
Around mile 22, I heard somebody loudly call out my name and I reluctantly lifted my head to realize that it was Vito - another friend from work and a strong runner on his own accord. He had shown up to cheer us on and fell in next to me with the idea of doing a mile or so with me. He soon realized that I was struggling and decided to just stay with me all the way. It was kind of funny how that helped me - I pushed myself just a bit more almost because I didn't want to disappoint Vito, who was expressing so much confidence in my ability to finish well. Still, I took about 4 walking breaks in the last 4 miles and I almost took another one towards the end, but Vito's exhortations kept me going. As turned the final bend, I finally noticed Malini and the boys (I had expected to see them at mile 25) on the side of the road. I waved and powered on to the finish line, posting a time of 4:05, which though only 5 minutes outside my goal, left me with a slightly disappointed feeling because of how close I had come (Greg finished in 3:50).
No doubt doing the long runs so much before the race played a part, but so did my poor nutrition during the run. I had almost no protein or fiber either in the morning or during the run and realized later that I had been really hungry. In the days following the run though, I began to feel better about my effort - after all, completing 26.2 miles in 4:05 is a significant accomplishment, no matter how much better it could have been.
An insight that will surprise no one is that attempting things like these are more a mental challenge than a physical one. Indeed, the long runs are as much mental training (most folks baulk at the thought of having to run for 4 hours, let alone having the physical stamina to do so) as they are physical conditioning. Race day itself is manageable - its one day after all - most everybody can talk themselves into going out and putting out one big effort. The real challenge is the discipline to stay with the 5-month long training program - doing all the runs no matter what the situation, week after week. A big part of why I was able to do this was the support of Malini and the boys - accommodating my weekday and weekend running schedule was hard enough - the vegetable I turned into after my long weekend run just added to it. Keeping me going even as my confidence waned closer to the race was a challenge on several levels. But now I get to return the favour: I have almost talked her into doing the La Jolla Half Marathon with me.
Some stats from my training:
Number of training runs: 70
Total mileage: 470
Longest run: 20 miles (on 12/13/09, 6 weeks before marathon).
Friday, January 29, 2010
Our Microwave Handle
Our family room couch is almost 11 years old and while it has held up remarkably well, there is a big tear between one of the cushions from which some of the stuffing has been slowly coming out. Furniture shopping is about as enjoyable as pulling your nails out, but more boring. But there came a time when we agreed that it could not be put off any longer. Of course, it wasn't as simple as just getting another couch - would we have to change our end table, our coffee table? The moment you overcome the mental barrier to doing any kind of significant home improvement project is a dangerous one for any homeowner: it signals the advent of a freewheeling consideration of every other project that had been ignored either due to a lack of urgency or just plain old apathy. It was no different for us.
Ok, so we are going to get a new couch, but what about that sliding screen door? It doesn't close properly and its upstairs cousin is all torn. Maybe we should replace the whole sliding door? Oh, what about the curtains then? We had installed them about six years ago and the exposed mounting hardware had always been an eyesore. I was a bit more tolerant of them, but Malini had never really liked how the curtains had turned out. But, but, Malini goes, what I really want to fix is our garage floor. We had attempted to epoxy-coat it twice with rather indifferent results (those episodes deserve a blog of their own) - now it was a peeling, stained mess that mockingly reminded us everyday of our futile attempts to make it presentable.
So I started making some casual inquiries - a post on the 'classifieds' mailing list at work yielded some leads and also some alarm at the potential cost. Multiple home visits from various flooring, blinds, and door folks ensued and after much back-n-forth, it was decision time. Should we do it all? Or maybe just the garage floor? Or maybe just replace the couches and bide our time? Eventually, I gave into the siren song of a new and improved house and decided to do all three projects.
We lined up all the contractors and the projects mostly finished on schedule and remarkably, they were all trouble-free and almost completely satisfactory. When I think back on it, it never fails to astonish me that we did three, rather expensive home improvement projects that we had not even contemplated till we decided the couch must go. Now have new wood blinds through out the house, new glass doors upstairs and downstairs, a beautifully finished floor and cabinets (oh yes, this was another incidental addition to the project) in the garage, but the couches? Well, I put some duct tape on the tears and we are still using them.
Ok, so we are going to get a new couch, but what about that sliding screen door? It doesn't close properly and its upstairs cousin is all torn. Maybe we should replace the whole sliding door? Oh, what about the curtains then? We had installed them about six years ago and the exposed mounting hardware had always been an eyesore. I was a bit more tolerant of them, but Malini had never really liked how the curtains had turned out. But, but, Malini goes, what I really want to fix is our garage floor. We had attempted to epoxy-coat it twice with rather indifferent results (those episodes deserve a blog of their own) - now it was a peeling, stained mess that mockingly reminded us everyday of our futile attempts to make it presentable.
So I started making some casual inquiries - a post on the 'classifieds' mailing list at work yielded some leads and also some alarm at the potential cost. Multiple home visits from various flooring, blinds, and door folks ensued and after much back-n-forth, it was decision time. Should we do it all? Or maybe just the garage floor? Or maybe just replace the couches and bide our time? Eventually, I gave into the siren song of a new and improved house and decided to do all three projects.
We lined up all the contractors and the projects mostly finished on schedule and remarkably, they were all trouble-free and almost completely satisfactory. When I think back on it, it never fails to astonish me that we did three, rather expensive home improvement projects that we had not even contemplated till we decided the couch must go. Now have new wood blinds through out the house, new glass doors upstairs and downstairs, a beautifully finished floor and cabinets (oh yes, this was another incidental addition to the project) in the garage, but the couches? Well, I put some duct tape on the tears and we are still using them.
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