The New York Harriers are sponsoring a race this coming August 26th for all those that are interested. Looks like a great idea and I have raced many times against these guys and they are fast, so I would assume this race is legit. Plus they have beer in the title of the race so I had to post about it.

Sunset & Suds 5K Run

Flat, fast out-and-back 5K with start/?nish at Hudson Beach Café at 105th Street and Riverside Park

PLUS! Postrace party at Hudson Beach Café with FREE BEER

$25 entry fee with pre-registration at Urban Athletics 1291 Madison Avenue between 91st and 92nd Streets or race night at the start line until 6:45 pm. After 6:45/limited $30 race day entries

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It has been way too long since I have posted on this blog. I will try to get back into the game and start posting on a regular basis. Stay tuned!!

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Every summer I search high and low for a couple of choice tracks that I always know will easily slip me into the perfect summer mood. Just when I was about to throw in the towel, NPR came rushing to the rescue.

I’d start with the Higga Boom track here and relax into a nice cocktail.

I don’t normally say this, but—Keep the Party Going!

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Two items I never thought I would write about a year ago are the recession and Copper River Salmon. Well this year I am in Seattle and Copper River Salmon is front page news here. Check out the picture below of the fish coming off the plane.

Copper River Salmon arrives May 15th each year and is known around the world as the best wild salmon available. Something about the cold water and length of the Copper River in Alaska make it delicious, which I am sure you can research if you care to find out the details.

The recession part of this has to do with price. Back in NYC, this salmon usually cost upwards of $40 a pound and in restaurants was a $50+ dish. Well this year due to a recession and a great catch prices are around $30 elsewhere and $20 here in Seattle.
I bought a beautiful 3/4 pound piece this afternoon and this is without a doubt the most delicious salmon I have ever had. This fish is a deep red and melts in your mouth. None of that nuclear orange with the painted white lines you normally see.
I am not sure how long this fish lasts, maybe 30-45 days, so if you see it in our local store, spend the extra $$$ and pick up Copper River Salmon. You will not regret it

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Well, with the Ibuprofen count officially under 4 a day, and the nightly icing rituals melted away, I thought it about darn time I relayed my NYC marathon story.

Let me first start by saying, how amazing all of the Dukes of Flatbush, particularly that guy I call my Husband, was through this whole process. A very sincere thanks to everyone for all of their well wishes, advice and encouragement along the way. And a particular shout out to the lady on First Ave and 96th St who was the ONLY person I didn’t know to call out my name- you will never know how much that helped. THANK-YOU!

I’ve taken a bit of time to write this for a lot of reasons. Partly because I needed to digest what exactly happened in those hours between 5 am and 6 pm on November 2nd, 2008, and partly because I really needed to get some rest! As I mentioned in my pre-marathon post, I was really looking forward to the two-week taper. My body, particularly my right knee and calf, were really giving me hell, and I was in an almost constant state of pain. I sought out the services of an acupuncturist, which helped tremendously, but even still I did not go into Marathon day in top form.

I’ll get this negative stuff out of the way, because as the administrator of this noble blog said- “It’ll be cathartic”. I’ll admit, I was pretty disappointed about not being in top shape on Marathon Day. After 2 + months of training, to be feeling rather questionable about your ability to perform is a bit of a lousy feeling. I didn’t play many team sports as a kid, so maybe this is something everyone else is used to by 32- I am not. I didn’t play through an ankle sprain and kick the winning goal. I didn’t get the MVP for getting two teeth knocked out and staying in the game to score four 3 pointers. I was a cheerleader- I broke my elbow doing a high kick and sat out the rest of the season out. Simply put, I’ve never played through the pain, it’s just not what I do.

OK, that feels better.

So there I was on the Saturday before Marathon Day, with perfect weather (crisp and partly cloudy with high of 50F) to look forward to, and I was a nervous friggin’ wreck about my knee. I went out for a long walk when a friend and fellow Marathoner called to ask how I was feeling. I described myself as the Owner of a Best in Show Contender at the Westminster Dog Show who had to leave Madison Square garden to go get a hotdog because they were too nervous to watch. This training process had done a lot of strange things to my mind, but this was getting out of hand. I was now simultaneously the Best in Breed, the trainer and the Owner. This had to stop!

What was the worst that could happen? “You could do real damage to your knee and wind up in serious trouble, Idiot,” I told myself. OK, fair enough, but really what are we talking about? Collapse in Williamsburg? Ambo in Central Park? I told myself that I could walk if I needed to, and in all honesty, that was fine. “There are plenty of people that walk, it’s not about the time. More importantly, it’s about finishing and raising funds for Jack’s Fund I reminded myself. Well, either the Viszla inside developed language skills or I was being to make sense. Either way, I was calm enough to go home and start the process of unwinding- 5 am does come early.

Per usual, I didn’t sleep much. It was a cold morning, but the spirit of the day most certainly got me out the door and onto the Subway Platform by 6 am. If your listening Mr or Mrs NYC Marathon Logistics Manager Man or Woman, I have to admit, I don’t think the Wave Start plan worked as well as you hoped. There were many, many runners that were in the 10:20 am start that had 5:30 am ferry or 4:30 am bus times. Doesn’t seem that it was the best use of staggered starts to then have people crowding the Staten Island Ferry terminal to stay warm before heading out into the sub 40 degree temp. But, I’m just saying. As I mentioned before, I consider myself a wimp. I know everyone talks about how amazing the Marathon Village is before the race, and how much fun it is to walk around and such, but I was freezing, so I stayed in the Ferry terminal till 8:30 before hoping on the bus to Fort Wadsworth.

Once there, I realized that there was a whole flurry of activity going on, and I clearly was not the only one that was a bag of nerves! People were literally walking in circles, too anxious and cold to sit, but too sore from months of training to move too fast! 9:30 am marked the end of Bag Check and in those few moments before I saw every type of salve, cream, gel you could imagine being applied to any and all body parts. Without shame, I too, joined the Vaseline’d Masses and got myself prepped for the race.

Before I knew it, we were lined up and stripping away our “give away” warm up gear. Without realizing it was really happening we were moving en masse up the platform up to the start line at the base of the bridge. Of course, Bruce Springstein’s Born To Run was playing on the speakers as I crossed over the start line. I chuckled to myself and smiled as I took off up the Verranzano Bridge and looked out over to Manhattan in the distance. I overheard someone say, “Doesn’t it look so far away?”. And strangely to me, it didn’t.

Coming into Brooklyn, I felt great. There was a dull pain in my knee, but it felt manageable. The tightness in my calf had subsided, I felt well rested, my digestive tract co-operated earlier and in all honesty, I felt like I was about to have the run of my life. Once on Fourth Avenue, I could see the Williamsburg Saving and Loan Building in the distance.

I live in Fort Greene, which is just past that at mile 8 so I settled in for an easy cruise up Fourth Ave, knowing that I would get a Dukes Welcome at the end of my block.

And there they were, my Bloody Mary’ed Cheering Section!

Luckily, my Husband brought out the Stick to the end of the road for a bit of mile 8 ITB release.

By this point, I was starting to question that “run of my life” comment. My knee was starting to feel very tight and tender, and each time I flexed my knee back after taking a step, it hurt even more. I slowed down from my 9 minute mile pace to a 9:30 for the next two miles to see where I was at. By mile 10 on Bedford Avenue, I stopped for a few moments to stretch out to see if I could loosen the ITB- it was beginning to feel like a rubber band being snagged on the outside of my knee with each step. No such luck. I stopped at the next Medical Tent to see if they had a Stick- for some reason this made sense to me, but of course they didn’t.

I was only 10 miles in, and here I was contemplating that I might have to serious consider walking for a bit. But walking on my right knee didn’t feel any better. The way I thought about it, it would just take longer and therefore hurt for longer. So I took off on my left leg, and just gently used my right foot to balance myself out. With that first step, I set my mind to running the remaining 16 miles on my left leg. Now I know this sounds insane, and of course it is. But it’s basically what happened. I stopped at two medical tents to have them tape up my knee to keep it from bending too far back, and I went about the business of getting through it.

Just passed seeing another group of friends at mile 14 in Long Island City, the pain was so bad that I stopped, folded over and started to cry. I don’t know if it was the pain, the frustration at my 11 minute pace or what, but I was pissed. All of this training, the resting, the icing, the balanced friggin’ nutrition, the Tetolling- I couldn’t believe it was coming to this. I think I even let out a bit of a Blue Streak- sorry to any kids that may have been nearby. After I few minutes, I got myself back together and got back to the business of the left sided shuffle. If it took me 7 hrs, I was gonna finish this thing.

I had been warned about the 59th St Bridge. With no crowds on either side, and the vibration of the runners pounding the expanse, it can be both daunting and exhilarating I was told.

As I made it up the incline, I got into a bit of a rhythm with the my new left sided gait and I was starting to settle in a bit. Just as I crested the bridge I realized that it truly “all down hill from here”. Not exactly the best thing for someone experiencing ITB pain, but you get the metaphor.

First Ave was pretty unbelievable.

Looking up those 50 or blocks and seeing a river of runners moving up the canyon of skyscrapers is a pretty remarkable site. There are so many spectators at this point too; never before have I felt greeted with such welcome arms to Manhattan. That said; I basically put my head down and wobbled my way up the Avenue, knowing that my Dukes Cheering Section was just 4 miles away.

By the time I got to mile 18, I realized that stopping to stretch was not a good idea; it became increasingly difficult to get started again and was more painful each time. It was also at that point that I realized that despite my difficulties, I was still within shot of my goal of sub 4:30. To do so, I would have to shave about 30 seconds off of my mile pace. One thing that has always been true during my training is that I tend to speed up after I get over the hump and enter the last 3rd of a run. Would that be true this time was the question.

I’ll spare you the grunting, wincing, cursing blow by blow of the last 8 miles, but they were the most intense of my life. The crowds down 5 Avenue and in Central Park were amazing. To each of the crazy spectators with the large “Beer” signs, thank-you for the laughs.

But I think this sign had to be the best-

With one last glance at my husband at the 26 mile mark, I ran those last .2 miles with tears in my eyes and a fullness in my heart that I will hold with me for the rest of my life.

At 4:28: 53, I can now say I know what it feels like to have made my own goal, banged up knee and all.

A week plus later, and I am not quite ready to tackle the pavement just yet. I might go back to Pilates for a bit, maybe even consider taking a Yoga class. I’m waiting for all of the swelling to go down to figure out what to do about my knee. I figure it makes sense to see what is just a result of all that training, and what may or may not be a lasting result before going to see a Doctor. To be honest I don’t want to know yet, I’d rather just bask in the glory for a bit longer.

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We take a break from our normal programming to discuss the New York Mets. The Mets are on fire as they head into the All Star Break and this hot streak is a long time coming.

They have won 9 in a row, have 4 shutouts in their past 6 games and have come back to within 1/2 game of 1st Place.

Let’s hope these guys can keep their act together over the All-Star break and keep their winning ways in the 2nd half of the season.

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Like everyone, I LOVE bacon. If I was on one of those cooking shows where someone gets eliminated each week, I’d just make bacon every time – how could I lose? So simple. I just ran across a video of a place down in the Lonestar State that makes Chicken Fried Bacon. I did some quick calculations and you have to run a mile for each strip that you eat, otherwise you better be “really funny” or a “good dancer” cause you’ll never get laid again. I can run a 10k these days so I’m good for a sixer…

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It is with great pleasure that we can announce the successful launch and maiden voyage of the Dukes of Flatbush’s first naval vessel. Astute students of history, the DOFB understands that no entity, whether man, club or nation, can be truly complete without demonstrating superior naval power.

A bit like the Russians at Stalingrad, our rival running club Los Compadres continues to best us at area races with an attrition strategy based on overwhelming numbers and superior infantry training. However, all indications are that they have no “Unified Forces Plan”, and have left their BBQ, Motorcycle and Naval flanks completely undefended.

The Dukes already own the Grill and Motorcycle theaters; we’re confident that the addition of a stout sailing vessel will be the linchpin in our summer campaign of good-times domination.

Consider this fair notice Compadres, your speedy ways on the asphalt are no match for our comprehensive forces. We will express our dominance and steal your good times in a classic pincer movement that would do Hannibal proud.

In other boating news – the Dukes of Flatbush are pleased to announce partnership with the Hüskooler School of Sailing and Maritime Refreshment Research. With a staff of gifted instructors, the Hüskooler School offers a new paradigm in multidisciplinary seafaring education. Full certification is the goal for all students and a rigorous, Shelter Island based, 8 week class schedule will commence in early July. Please contact your administrator or neighborhood Moose Lodge for more information.

Proper technique from a lead instructor

CIT training session

Anti-pirate-stratagem role play

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In an almost unbelievable turn of events, the dive group lost last Friday in Flores was found intact and relatively none the worse for wear. You have to read this article…it’s pretty crazy……fending off deadly Komodo dragons with your weight belt?!? Having see the dragons first hand, and enjoyed many a celebratory beverage at The Paradise, this resonates.

A toast to Kath for getting all in the group safely to shore. I’m sure it was an epically harrowing experience, but truly the best outcome possible in a potentially fatal situation.

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Fayth and I dove with Reefseekers at this time last year off the island of Flores in Indonesia. It’s a great outfit and the woman Kath who runs the show is an amazing instructor, an excellent guide to the undersea wonders of Komodo Park & an all around inspiration to those of us who appreciate striking out and carving an existence WAY off the beaten path.

She and a small group of divers have gone lost in Komodo. Whether you believe in the power of positive thoughts or not, please send a good one their way and hope for the speedy and safe return of all on the dive.

Thank you,
-b

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Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and, I guess, this is one of those times for our beloved admin, erstwhile coach, training partner extraordinaire and certified master of the grill Jeff. He’s packed up the shop, loaded what’s important and is redeploying to the left coast in search of fortune, adventure and cracked crab. As we all navigate the fog caused by last night’s sayonara wumpus, I’d just like to pause for the cause and give a hearty HUZZAH to our partner in crime.

Fare thee well sir. You’ll be sorely missed but we’ve every confidence you’ll quickly get to holdin’ it down out there and swelling the ranks of the Dukes West Coast Chapter. Write when you get work and we’ll come inspect your beachhead.

Vaya con dios y un gato en tu pantalones Amigo.
-mismanagement

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If you’re like me, you probably waste and hour or two each week on Facebook. If you have the bug, go ahead and join the Dukes of Flatbush group.

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Every year vintage motorcycle nuts, gear heads and assorted “enthusiasts” gather out in Ohio for the AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days festival. Part carnival, part swap meet and pure good times, VMD plays host to all kinds of sweet stuff..vintage class races (on and off road), old metal beauty contests, the biggest motorcycle related swap meet you can imagine, bike and gear auctions and the sort of beer drinking and tall tale tellin’ that happens when old gear heads get together.

Every year VMD chooses a particular brand of old sweetness to highlight. This year triumph takes the cake and the whole scene is sure to be bursting with awesome old Bonnies, thruxtons and toothless Britts ‘ carying on about the superiority of British combustion power and insisting that Lucas wasn’t The prince of Darkness. Needless to say I’ve been itching to gussy up the Superbad and get out to VMD for years. This year presents an almost to-good-to-pass-up opportunity to ogle the beautiful old Triumphs while showing what wiped the slate clear and issued in the era of awesome Japanese performance engineering and reliability. Heh.

Sadly, I recon I’ll have to pass with all that Baja prep requires; maybe next year.

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