“Dear ____________________________________”

I am going into business for myself. My product is a series of nicely designed and printed business card sized notes that can be handed out to the people you meet on your running adventures. There will be one for every occasion, and on the back will be space for you to put your own contact information, should you choose. I’ll sell them in packages of 25, with five each of five different notes. Or, in if you want the complete range of possible communications, you can get the package of 100 cards, with five each of twenty-five different notes. There will also be several blank cards included, on which you may write your own hand-held correspondence.

Before I go public, I thought I’d share the text of some of the most popular trial cards.

Dear Ultra Fast Runner,

You’re an inspiration to me. When you blew past me on the dirt track at the local elementary school I had visions of training and dieting until I could match your pace and avoid the shame of having you pass me twice every 400 yards. It’s my dream to run next to you so I am not scared to death every time you yell “track!” unnecessarily upon passing me. I also like your singlet. Keep it up!

Dear Flexi-Leash Dog Runner,

I like dogs, too. They’re so cute and they don’t bag out of running dates like my jerk friends who always have to work or are too tired to join me for a lap around the neighborhood. I think it’s super awesome that your dog has so much freedom to run wherever he wants on the end of that fifty-foot flexi-leash. Lucky dog! It’s just the best when he cuts across the trail and wraps that leash around my ankles. Dogs are SO CUTE!

Dear Super Cute Runner,

You are truly a joy to look at. I’m not just saying that. But can you work on your pacing a little bit? It’s hard to stay right behind you if you keep speeding up.

Dear Running Group,

I wish I had so many friends to run with. With that big a group of runners you can literally take over the entire sidewalk and never have to worry about being passed in either direction. And you’re right, the fog line is probably a better place for me to run anyway. It’s hard to chat with your friends if you are running in a line. The blob formation is better.

Dear Mouth Breather,

This race is really getting hard, isn’t it? Wow. Congratulations on making it this far. Having you breathing in my ear is motivating me to run faster to get away from you. I’m flattered that you’ve chosen me to draft off of, but I can’t hear my music, and my power song is coming up, so that is why I am letting you pass me.

Dear Sprinter/Walker,

Each time you pass me I am amazed at your stamina and pace. So amazed, in fact, that I barely notice it when I pass you as you walk on the shoulder with your hands on your hips. But rest assured, I see you each time you pass me.

Dear Spitter,

I remember when I learned to spit as a kid. I spent the next week spitting everywhere. On the playground, in the halls, into drinking fountains, etc. Until my teacher finally got fed up with it and made me fill up a Cool Whip container with spit. I lost the joy for expectoration after that. But I know sometimes a runner needs to spit to get his mouth clear. Next time can you check over your shoulder before letting fly like that? Thanks a bunch. Is that Gatorade I taste?

Dear Grouchy,

We’re in this together, man! I can tell you’re straining and I know that running can be hard work. That’s why I waved and smiled. I know I don’t know you, but come on, we’re like a little club here. It’s us against the world. Can I get a little smile? A wave? A simple flip of the hand? A nod? Why so grouchy? Maybe you should join a running group. I have listed several local clubs on the back of this card. Give them a try. And SMILE!

Dear Motorist,

Thanks for stopping after you hit me. I can’t talk right now because your Hummer crushed my rib cage, but I trust this card will suffice as a thank you for not leaving me here to die. Also, those thick white lines on the road mark a pedestrian crosswalk. I know they must look to you like a starting line from which to race into the tiny opening in the traffic, but no. It’s there for me. At least do me the courtesy of checking it once before you drop the hammer on your V8. Love.

Have a hand-held note you want to see in print? Send it to me at gregsrealrunning.blogspot.com

Next Up:

Cap’n Ron and I (and apparently several thousand others, but I can’t confirm that) are heading to Canada for the Vancouver Marathon next weekend. I am hoping my legs recover and the shin splints go away before the start so I can avoid my first ever DNF. Cap’n Ron has visions of Boston within his grasp.

If you’re heading up there, let me know. I could use some help being carried back to the finish line from Stanley Park.

In other related news, the Vancouver Canucks beat the L.A. Kings to advance to the second round of the NHL Playoffs, which means there will likely be playoff hockey in British Columbia while we are there. I don’t know if you know anything about Canadians and their hockey, but…should make for an interesting couple of nights.

Also:

Where are all of you? I see you visiting Real Running, but you leave without saying hi. How rude. Leave a message. Send an email. Something. That means you, Random Visitor from Belgium. Belgium? The Interwebs are amazing things.

Taper Time

It’s time to taper my training and prepare for the Vancouver Marathon on May 2^nd.

I imagine this is what it’s like to stop using heroin cold turkey.

In theory, tapering is a relaxing week or so before a marathon when the training is over, the long runs are in the books, and all that is left to be done is rest.

In reality, The Taper is 7-14 days of mental torture, body mis-management, and stress.

Tell me all you want about the physical benefits of tapering before a marathon (I’ve read those books, too, you know) but I really wonder how much the physical benefits matter if the experience turns you into a self-conscious, hyper-critical stress ball like it does to me.

Physical evidence aside (what do those scientists and doctors know, anyway?) how can NOT running help you prepare for the biggest run of your life? It just doesn’t make sense. And my body knows this.

When I’m not running, I walk through the day like a bored toddler. I watch a little television. Read a little bit of a book. Eat a snack. Go outside. Take a nap. Eat another snack. No direction and no energy.

And not only do I get a little stir-crazy when I can’t run, I tend to get fat and lazy. Running gives me energy and burns those few extra calories I pack in, and it takes a week or more for my body to realize I’m not running and adjust its desire for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese accordingly. By the time I am able to adjust my diet, I’ve gained all the pounds I managed to slice off during the peak of training. “Race weight,” which I have never achieved in my life, slips away as the race draws closer.

And so I decide that running “a little” won’t do any harm and will make me easier to be around. I go out of a little three mile jog and come back an hour later with seven miles on the books. Woops. Then the next day I’m a little stiff, and figure a nice jog will loosen things up. Repeat.

And then at mile 22, somewhere west of downtown Vancouver, I smash headlong into a wall and my legs start to give up. And I think, I should really take the taper more seriously, as Cap’n Ron grooves past me to the finish. It’s like I can see into the future…

Happy tapering everyone.