When A Moment Changes Everything

March 6th, 2011

For weeks now, I've been listening to David Gray's "When A Moment Changes Everything" on near-repeat fully expecting to get hit by a bus, pushed in front of a subway, or catch a stray bullet at any instant.

It's a simple, hooky, perfectly David Gray kinda' song with a propellant beat, ascending melody, and the sort of broadly opaque lyrics that invite projection.

"The stolen glances broken threads," he sings. "The vision looming in our heads. The years spent running parallel to everything that might have been."

It's just uptempo ...

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2010 Chicago Marathon In 4:03:49

October 15th, 2010

"It's not the heat," I Tweeted in the wee hours of Sunday morning, "It's the uncertainty."

Ends up it was both.

See, Chicago has a bit of history with extreme weather. In 2007, one runner died and another 100+ were rushed to area hospitals on account of too much heat (the mercury topped ninety!), and too little water.

That Sunday's forecast, then, called for a high of 86 degrees was, well, cold comfort (or it's conceptual but not thermal inverse).

Still, as Chris, Mike and I sat around Saturday afternoon (one isn't really a tourist ...

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Into The East

April 4th, 2010

Abbi and I moved from West 56th Street and Tenth Avenue to East 71st and First this weekend. To most, this would seem a simple, two mile, two zip code, cross-town move. Which would be true. But man, what a difference two zip codes can make.

New York neighborhoods are rife with generalities, none more pronounced that the Upper West and East Sides. The Upper West is for cultural and artistic workers, the Upper East for more commercial and business types. Nothing is that simple, of course, still, it often bears out. The Upper West has ...

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Moment Of Zen: Litchfield Beach

March 30th, 2010

Litchfield Beach sits just south of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a broad and flat stretch of sand at the center of Long Bay.

I rose before dawn to greet the sunrise there, hit the sand, and turned north towards Murrell's Inlet. The waves were soft and low, the water grayish-blue. The sun peaked over the water a few miles into my run, just as the modest, gray-clapboard houses gave way to the rolling dunes of Huntington Beach Park.

I jogged into the park at a break in the sand, following a shallow creek to a pond bolstered by evergreen ...

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The Wave

February 4th, 2010

Funny story from Dominican Republic. Sort of.

Our hotel, Casa Colonial, was wedged in the middle of Playa Dorado, a World Bank-funded hotel, golf course and mall development roughly half-way between the Puerto Plata Airport, and Puerto Plata itself. Again, I can't say enough nice things about the hotel itself, and particularly the staff. Playa Dorado, was oddly-contrived (horse-drawn carriages to shuttle pedestrians the literally dozens of feet between hotels, for example) and antiseptic, though. It took me less than twelve hours to ...

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And Baby Makes Three

December 30th, 2009

I woke early -- too early -- on account of a message from my younger self.

Well, not exactly.

It was 29-year-old singer/songwriter Casey Shea (nearly ten years my junior) texting me in the small hours of the morning as he sauntered home from a rock show on the Lower East Side (as I have so many times before). The sound of his text shot through Abbi and my bedroom like a sonic boom. She stirred. I woke.

He suggested that we could hook up in Brooklyn to hand off a flash drive full songs for my long-gestating documentary, "Mister ...

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My First Yoga Class

November 23rd, 2009

For months now, Abbi's been asking me to join her Saturday morning yoga practice. And for months, I'd put it off... until yesterday.

It only stands to reason that stretching, strengthening and meditating will go a long way to remedy a frenetic life punctuated by frequent, joint-pounding runs. As my marathon finishes have increased (eleven and counting), my back, hips and knees have grown more fragile. Sitting is often difficult on account of my piriformis syndrome. My doctor prescribed physical therapy and the gym. My physical ...

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November 11th, 2009

Last Monday afternoon, some 24 hours after my record-setting (well, my record, anyway) New York City Marathon finish, I settled into the massage table for my annual deep-tissue rub down.

My masseuse, Elana, was strong, driving her elbows deep into my hamstrings and calves. Somewhere between my shoulder blades, just before gingerly flipping me over, she hit a soft spot that set my nose running like a faucet. By Tuesday morning, my throat was sore. By Wednesday morning, I had a full-on head cold.

I slid sluggishly into the weekend ...

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My Actual 3:51:05* New York City Marathon Playlist

November 4th, 2009

A friend of mine emailed me a page from The New Yorker yesterday. The black-and-white cartoon showed two PacMan-like faces staring at one another. The face on the left's speech bubble said "Marathon, Marathon, Marathon, Marathon, Marathon." On the right, it simply said, "Zzzzzzz."

That pretty much sums up the days following any marathon, let alone a PR. It was my best marathon ever. I ran the first 13.1 miles in 1:57:02, the second in 1:54:04 to finish in 3:51:05 (an average speed of 8:50 per mile). I was the 9239th male finisher, and ...

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The 3:51:05 New York City Marathon Playlist

November 2nd, 2009

With over 40,000 runners making individual Odysseys across 26.1 rust and wind-swept miles, the New York City Marathon is nothing if not cinematic. Add some stakes (like shattering an eight-year-old personal best) and a throbbing soundtrack, and the race is truly epic.

I've run to the music of this city for years. The rush of West Side traffic, lapping of Hudson and waves and rustle of Central Park trees was welcome refuge from headphones and headaches alike, a place where my thoughts could stretch out and get lost. This year, though, as ...

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