I arrived at Temple University at 6 AM and received my shirt and number and stood among the group of people that appeared vastly fitter than me.  The group was composed of policemen and actuaries/underwriters and having little else to talk about we BSed about weather and sports.  We bused to the starting point of the race and I looked for my corral which corresponded to how quickly I thought I’d finish the race.  I said 2 hours and my cohort consisted of reasonably fit older folks and slightly plump 20 somethings which seemed appropriate.  The race began at 8:00 AM, my wave began at 8:45 AM and I was off on my first race that meant anything.

From SuburbanAdventureRehost

At the bottom of the picture are orange stripes lined by blue.  Each of the race bibs had a sensor strip in them that talked to these boxes and were used to log time per mile.  This allowed for me to start the race after the first runner had probably finished and still be ranked accurately.

Notes:

  • Many people ran as a team and I myself had a giant Temple “T” on my back.  One team was “Black Women Run”.  Someone had a slightly messed up shirt that said “Black Women, Run”.  That’s a very different team.
  • Favorite sign: Worst Parade Ever
  • People I saw running: Several people dressed as green man, someone in a tutu, and a bad-ass fellow in Marine fatigues who ran the entire race waving a giant American flag.
  • The early miles had a lot of bands playing.  As I passed Temple, their band was out playing and I found this strangely encouraging.
  • The cross streets were all closed to cars but pedestrians could still cross.  At one point there was a blind woman crossing.  Wow.
  • Each time I ran under a traffic light that was a red a neuron fired going “I ran a red light, tee hee”.
  • You could tell what kind of hydration station you were approaching by whether or not it was sticky (Gatorade) or not (water).
  • John Andelfinger was on one of the islands in the street.  I stopped to chat for a few seconds and we made dinner plans.
  • About a 1/3 of a mile from the finish line a man ran up next to me and said “hey, you keep a consistent pace.  My running group has been following you since mile 3.  How do you keep your pace?”  “I train on a treadmill and that’s about it.”  I bolted.

For the first five miles of the race Billy Penn grew taller and taller as you approached City Hall and then the skyline diminished as you approached the Navy Yard.  The first five miles were fun, the next three were boring, the last two were brutal.  As you run you use both the fine muscles that control micromovements as well as the large muscles that power you forward.  Eventually, the fine muscles give out and the large ones take over and you begin to pound pavement.  Upon crossing the finish line, most people fall back on these fine control muscles to walk and discover they are completely gone and have to use the larger ones to control their walking which is quite hard.  Everyone looks drunk.  Since everyone does this as they cross the finish line there is a standing wave where people turn from runners to drunkards which is quite fun to watch.  I finished in 1 hour 35 minutes and was very happy with that time.

We returned to Temple and I enjoyed myself at the barbecue which had Yoohoo chocolate drink and chicken sausages.  I ate and talked and ate and talked and found out later that I had eaten more in calories than I had burned running the previous 10 miles.  Time to go home and burn those calories off on the treadmill.  Hazaa…

Chris Lutz is rare among my friends in that I have no memory of us meeting. Not that we’ve known each other since some time immemorial but just that there was a time when I didn’t know him then there was a time when I did and I’m not sure what event separated the two.

Today he was getting married in DC to his partner and I was asked to serve as the photographer. I arrived only a few minutes before the service started but I had two cameras thanks to Joe Naylor and I looked like several tourists combined or in my head, a total bad ass. The pastor approached me before hand:

Pastor: So, you’re the photographer.
Me: *looks at cameras* Yep.
Pastor: Ok, you’re welcome to take all the pictures you want.
Me: Thank you.
Pastor: I’m not done, you’re welcome to take all the pictures you want from anywhere you want before the service but once the service begins there are some restrictions.
Me: Like?
Pastor: Please don’t stand in the center aisle, do not stand behind us at all, don’t stand in front of any of the guests, and don’t make noise during the important parts of the ceremony.

Is that all?

The ceremony went off without incident and the reception afterward was a study in smooth operation. I took some more pictures and headed out to meet a friend of mine my high school I hadn’t seen in about seven years.

Me: Sorry I’m late. I stayed a little longer than I thought I would at the wedding I was shooting.
Her: Oh, are you a photographer?
Me: Nah, nothing so fancy.

There are few people with whom the contrast of knowing me vs. knowing my life is so strong. I know many people who know my life but not me and the reverse was novel.

Tomorrow I was going to be the photographer at Chris Lutz’s wedding followed by meeting up with a high school friend. Sunday I was scheduled to run in the Broad Street Run and take in 10 miles of prime Philadelphia pavement. I was already beat from work and as I lie in bed not able to sleep I Googled “how to take wedding photos”. The wedding was ten hours away in time and three hours away in distance so I was probably behind on doing this. Every list I found started with “get there early”. I guess I know which tip I’m skipping.

We visited the hospital to see Ryan and Amanda today and my mother had an exchange with a nurse.

Mom: Where’s the nursery?
Nurse: we don’t have a public one.
Mom: Why not, where are the babies?
Nurse: with… their… mothers.
Mom: The mothers need their rest, they’ll have the rest of their lives with their children.

Love you, mom.

Today, Patrick Robinson, son of Ryan and Amanda Robinson was born.  He’s very early, by over 12 weeks, and he’s quite small at under a pound.

From SuburbanAdventureRehost

That is my thumb for reference. He is quite small, and his odds are not too good at a square 50/50. Right now, his life is a dance between his developing body and an integrated automated care system that is keeping him alive. I never thought such humanity would lie between biology and technology with forces possessing no awareness of what they are doing.

I cried a lot after I heard the news. Not immediately after, but several hours after. I was on my treadmill, trying to stay distracted from Patrick’s precarious state and suddenly my heart rate shot up to 185 BPM which is 20-30 higher than I want it to be. I came downstairs, and my dad and I cried a lot and I’m not entirely sure why. I was an uncle and he was a grandfather, something we both wanted to be, but not this way. He went to bed exhausted but I wasn’t quite there yet so I placed some calls and I’d like to thank Pat Toye again for being my Go To person when I have an existential dilemma after 11 PM. He is good to me.

I’ve never been angry at a number before. As a student of statistics I know exactly what 50/50 odds mean and I understand how probabilities change over time, but 50/50 doesn’t give you a side to cheer for, there’s no underdog, there’s no expectation. 51/49 would have made me happier and I felt bad for that. Life should never be that close to a coin flip. Let us hope he is a fighter.

Me: I’ve found a new way to prepare steak that you might be interested in.
Boss: I like steak.  Go on.
Me: It’s called sous vide, and I think if I use some lab equipment I can make amazing steaks at work cheaply.
Boss: Not on your life.
Me: Why not?
Boss: Against SOP, every device in this lab comes with an implicit guarantee that it will not be used to prepare food.
Me: But it’s steak.
Boss: SOP says no.
Me: If an SOP told you to jump off a bridge would you?
Boss: Yes.

At least he’s consistent.s

Six miles for the March of Dimes seemed like an easy idea but I had never before run so far on asphalt nor in front of this many people.  Kelly, Jess, and I started together and I kept to my rule of “I’ll go at your pace as long as you are actually running”.  This held up for two miles before one of them needed to walk, and then again every half mile or so.  At about 3.5 miles, I asked if they’d mind if I continued without them and they politely allowed me to depart.  I took off.  At around mile four I shot up a hill without tiring and thought to myself “ah, that’s what adrenaline feels like”.  At around mile five, I was taken in by the sound of birds, the breeze, and the bucolic scene and thought to myself “ah, that’s what endorphines feel like”.   If I didn’t finish first I came damn close.  But this wasn’t a real race so I ran back and caught up with Jess and Kelly and literally pushed them to the finish line.

The whole experience was strangely fun until about two hours later when I had the feeling that my body was breaking down.  Every joint in my body was seemingly seizing up and 1/2 my muscles hurt.  In my contorted state I googled “running stretches” and learned the depth of my folly when I saw all the things I had failed to do.  We need a run for warm-up, stretching, and cool down awareness.

Gina is a friend of mine from High School that recently moved back to Philadelphia and has taken to running.  We got together for dinner at Beau Monde, a creperie on 6th and Bainbridge that I remember enjoying in High School.  The entire wait staff was in skintight leather and the crepes were good.  I remember one of those from high school but wonder if the other was what really made the selection for me.  Gina and I talked and we went over our recent past.  She had apparently gained and then lost a lot of weight, started and then quit smoking, and dated and then stopped recently but now had a vastly better job.  I had gained and lost a lot of weight, gained and then lost a neat job (medical device start-up gig), and started and stopped dating, but now I had a vastly improved cardiovascular capacity.  I’d prefer the job.

Me: Want to running this weekend?
Kelly: Actually some friends and I are running at BCCC if you want to join.
Me: Sure, what time?
Kelly: Around 10 AM.
Me: Ok.

*Call later*

Kelly: What size shirt are you?
Me: XL, wait, what’s this for, have I been conned into running for something?
Kelly: Yes, but don’t worry, it’s free and there’s food.
Me: Ghaaaaa, what am I supporting?
Kelly: Infant diseases.
Me: Dammit, I can’t argue with that one.
Kelly: See you at 10.

Me: Joe, do you know anyone with Community on DVD?
Joe: No, but it’s on Netflix, I think.  Why not use a free trial and see it all?
Me: I’ve used up all my email addresses to set up accounts already.
Joe: You own like, 4 domains, just make a new email address.
Me: Joe, you’re a smart one.

Minutes later “freenetflixtrial@ockanickon.org” existed.