Day 7: I can’t rest too long, can I?

Day 7, Week -3 / 10:30AM

6 miles on the treadmill

Completed in 45m 06s

Peak speed at 10.0 mph for 2 min.

This weekend was spent resting.  I hit a cleaning binge on Thursday night, and came away with about 2 hours of sleep, so running on Friday was out of question.  I thought I could keep running and running on the weekend, but my body kept insisting on sleeping and chilling out, or at least making sure that my head and heart were at ease before straining them with a long run.

Here’s an article about resting and running.  I should integrate in my training regimen, but rest is the only thing I’m really lazy about.  When I’m deeper in training though, I most certainly begin to turn in on Friday nights, to hit the ground hard and long on Saturday mornings… you’ll see.

Instead, I helped myself to watching some films over the weekend. 

There’s a solid critique of the film Wendy and Lucy on Geologic’s blog.

If I can add anything to his critique, it’s reminiscent of the photo documentary works of the Depression era photographer’s, most specifically Dorothea Lange.  In fact, I’d contend that the film’s droll qualities are akin to a roll of film shot by Lange.  There’s the rough editing and composure of the photo, the subject is asked to sit in their state of distress, distemper, or disillusion, what-have-you, and the photographer dances around them and reappropriates the drama.  Wendy and Lucy carries substantive moments, moments in repose and still, yet the movements between are exasperating, frustrating at best.  If one seeks out a distilled form of body in space look to Robert Bresson’s catalog, and one finds despair in the form of doomed characters confined by strict rules not completely of their society, but of the director’s stringent and sterile style.  It’s watchable, but brace yourself.

I took a second look at Planet B-Boy by Benson Lee.  It’s a work that is a great update to the meta-narrative of B-Boying.  Themes included Hip-Hop as a vehicle for self-discovery, and within that a subset of themes with globalization, male psychology, etc.  I can’t speak loads more about it, as it’s very straightforward.  One thing to note however, is how quickly the game changes every year with crews upping one another, and how political/culturally influential the judges can be on these international competitions.  

I also got to see Coraline in 3-D.  Pure joy, pure horror.  I’m not saying anything new here when we discuss the psychology of children’s tales and the fixation of fear and what these fears address.  It seems that most animations are for adults anyhow, as our generation has become more and more responsive to our bygone days of Transformers, and the constant flow of Marvel films.  I’m not knocking it, but cheers to the geeks turned filmmakers and studio execs.  

 

Day 6: Scurry to a better time

Day 6, Week -4 / 10:30AM

3 miles on the treadmill

Completed in 21m 04s

Peak speed at 9.0 mph for 6 min.

Yesterday’s hill training left me with sore calves.  The cold air also exacerbated the remnant of my congestion, so it was pretty rough this morning, but I ultimately decided to push through because of breakfast — I helped myself to tater tots, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a bagel.  To additionally test my tolerance/endurance I successfully completed the 3 miles just over 21 minutes.

Speaking of eating, I’ve been munching and munching on trail mixes, dried fruits, trying trying TRYING to eat less foods of the deep fried variety, but it’s so dang difficult to unlearn years and years of eating based on what your parents could make available for you.  Oddly enough, preparation for veggies as meals in raw or steamed form is much more simple than throwing stuff in a big pot o’ oil.  Nowadays, I’m better about it, every once in a while I’ll eat up at In-N-Out, but I miss those days of Fried Chicken with Jufran and White Rice… man, we used to eat with our hands it was so good!  Currently, to trick and treat myself, I often eat at Fresh Choice.

I like going by myself, as bringing another person is often embarrassing for myself because of my eating technique (which I will refrain from going into).  Additionally, going by yourself means a maximized opporutnity to observe and people watch.

Yesterday’s evening at Fresh Choice brought out family after family.  A couple of bachelors like myself were also present, didn’t notice any women eating by themselves.  Most of the bachelors decided to not face the crowds and immerse themselves in their reading materials (I too, brought some homework to work on in between trips to the salad bar).

Another musing I often have is how overloaded the salad plates end up being.  It’s a trick to think that a plate overflowing with ’salad’ could be so ‘healthy.’  To each their own though, I should talk, if one to observe my template meal they’d scoff and pat me in the soon-to-be-full stummy.

Mid-meal I was interrupted by large middle-aged father of two, who inquired if I was an old co-worker named Dennis.  Apparently, it had been years, but I managed to carry very similar physical characteristics of Dennis.  I politely said no, but this didn’t seem to convince his son, who kept stealing glances my way.  I imagined what Dennis could possibly do as I peered over at the gentleman’s table, there was a large walkie-talkie sitting there, and his equally sizable son of a young-20s also sported one, but both were in plainclothes and their voices were pleasant enough to not conform to any kind of police or authoritative figure.  Could Dennis have been a colleague at a sewage plant?  Could Dennis have worked in the control tower at SFO?  I’ll never know, and I should have asked.

In fact, I will ask at this point.  For most of my life, I’ve been mistaken for someone else.  My current doppelganger is this fellow.  In college, I kept getting called Val.  I’m stopped enough in the street by people to pick up their conversations where their friend (whom I resemble), left off.  It was annoying for a bit, but I finally succumbed to not having a continguous identity that is R.J. Lozada (do we ever have a contiguous identity though?).  At this point, as a fun project, I think I’ll inquire further next time I’m asked if I’m someone else.  I should have asked what they thought of Dennis, what impressions he left, and why he thought they lost contact… Not that I would then absorb Dennis’ narrative, but it be nice to leave with some kind of connect with a stranger, and I’m trying to be about that more often…

Day 5: Running Upward, Heave-ho!

Day 5, Week -4 / 12:00PM

1.5  mile warm-up on flat ground

5 times repeat hill training

Completed in approximately 1hr

In the past, I’ve been lazy about integrating more hills into my runs, as they mess with my breathing and my mental game.  I can’t avoid them this time around though, as San Francisco is peppered with hills, and the marathons that I’ve been apart of have always had a major hill or two thrown in the first half of the race.

For a good read on hill training read this Runner’s World article here.  If you want a specific regimen, read Active.com’s recommendations from the American Running Association here.

Slowly but surely, I may be on my way to my goal time.  Took me a number of tries, but I think this regimen (and this blog) will be my answer.

Day 4: Swimming on two feet

Day 4, Week -5 / 10:15AM

10 miles, Camp Sawyer Trail off of Millbrae

Completed in approximately 1hr 30m

In the rain.  With Ninoy Brown of FOBBDeep.com

I enjoy running by myself, but I would like to run with more people, often.  When I caught wind of Ninoy Brown training for a half-marathon, I jumped at the opportunity to accompany him on one of his long runs.

‘Rain or Shine’ he said.

It was raining.  Pretty hard I might add.  I got up this morning thinking how drenched we were going to get, and wondering if a cold would follow thereafter, I wasn’t going to miss out on another day of training, much less flake on a friend so I layered, even brought a garbage bag in case I wanted to cover myself up in it, and headed to the Sawyer Camp Trail.  Full of sloping, rolling hill, mossy trees, large bodies of water, and deer, the trail provided a nice canvas for the sounds of our feet ambling, leaves rustlings, frogs croaking, and lungs wheezing.

Mr. Brown and myself were at a comfortable enough pace to tackle the 9 – 10 miles and still talk about work, and running around the world.

Running that path alone is great, I imagine attaining a zen-like trance that would most likely carry me miles and miles, but pairing up to encourage and marvel at scenerery wasn’t so bad either.

I skipped out on yesterday’s run to recoup from the Center for Asian American Media’s kickoff party, and to make sure I attended the screening of Manilatown is in the Heart: Time Travel with Al Robles.  The screening was at the Koret Auditorium at the SF Public Library.  It played to a modestly attended group comprised of some veteran cultural and community workers.  Al Robles’s birthday was on that day too, so after the screening we had birthday cake.

The film was a mish-mash of time periods with Al’s presence being featured.  Al’s poetry and essence was mostly captured on the film.  I was more impressed with the breadth of material that Choy had accumulated over time.  I have a mild addiction to watching formless footage, or time capsule footage — it feels mostly unadulturated, and sincere in it’s emanations of the qualities, and Choy’s footage of the manongs in Delano was no exception.  There was no reason to, but I teared at viewing that footage.  There’s a quality of continued humble and modest fraterity and love between the manongs… that their solo efforts to make a life in the United States isn’t in vain.

I’m bothered that Al doesn’t get the recognition he deserves.  The labor of love that is asking and listening, documenting, and advocating for the senior populations is a thankless task, but it’s necessary for the well being of any group of people…

I’ll stop this rant for now because it isn’t getting anywhere… but here’s a poem by Al Robles…

THE STRUGGLE OF THE MANONGS This place of the manongs This place of Pilipino farm workers Showed me where to follow Found imprints of Vera Cruz’s foot And hands in the trees, in The grapes in the soil Deep in Agbayani Village Beneath the trees grapes fallen We begin the long struggle The long jouney I awoke to the croaking sound Of fighting cocks Behind manong Candio’s house And soon began heading toward The backyard The shrill sound clearing my mind Circling around the treetops Like ravens Following the early summer morning Each step I took got deeper into the past Of the manongs It led us far, father across The road, the beginning of resistance The beginning of revolutionary struggle Autumn midnight In Agbayani Village The spirit of the Pilipino farmworkers. Finds its own way Their struggle with the Chicanos Is to go to battle For the poor farmworkers There is fire in the vineyards, In the fields on the road There is fire in the vineyards To give…we must walk with the Pilipino farmworkers Ablaze in summer cool in winder Anytime, man! Anytime, man! And your face will fear nothing Before the grapes ripened again We will rise up like fire Get rid of the rich white grower’s greed Voices on fire rise up!

(a poem about Philip Vera Cruz) No disheveled weathered grass-minds Lay dead around the rich grower’s ground Who will touch us Who will cripple us We will not sit still New struggles spring up bursting Flows over the fields Thunder cannot move us Let us all go to Delano Deep in Agbayani Village Let the fish swim deeper Across the fields Into the mouth of the manongs On arrival I saw poets cried down the grapes Our conversation Our love of the Pilipino Chicano farmworkers We still come back to Delano We still live by our struggle We still live by our poetry of resistance In the dark hours across the Delano vineyards The struggle against the white grower’s goes on I know the things of the manongs I know the lives in deep melancholy dreams Empty pockets soaked in old weathered work clothes Yet their life of struggle belongs to us I saw manong cardac and manong Willie And manong Candioand manong LaCuesta All of them…all of them… Circling around us Laying out things of the past Marks of brown feet Hidden dreams and memories still fermenting Whispering overhead shadows darken The face and chill the heart of poets © Al Robles

Day 3: Form and Function

Day 3, Week -5 / 5:30PM

6 miles from door to door, round Lake Merced

Completed in ??m ??s

Peak speed at ??? mph for ? min.

[I forgot my watch]

Good morning.  It was Lincoln Day yesterday.  Started off with Obama’s speech, and went to the gym, I went against running because I wasn’t fully awake, and not about to faint on the treadmill.

I did end up running at the end of the day though.  The sun stayed out just a bit longer, but it was still cold.

I took careful consideration of my form.  I try to integrate best practices when it comes to running, paying mind to form – I pretend that I’ve got a string at the top of my head and it’s being pulled by the sun, my shoulders pulled back, not too far though.  There’s an optimal range of posture that seems awkward, but i’m sure is familiar to marching band geeks.

I’m also mindful of footstrike, making sure not to slam on my heel at too rough of an angle, as I know from long runs that such an angle affects your joints and your lower back.

I also made sure not to exert myself on the last .25 mile too hard, as I knew I’d catch cold–if I let the cold air get to deep in my lungs, but I’m not even sure if that’s a true thing, I just pretend that it is…

Felt relieved that I worked my body twice yesterday.  The run was a nice cap to the day, as I purchased an individual membership at the California Academy of Sciences (I can take another person in with me for free, wanna come along?).  The one most amusing thought I had out there was the abundance of folks with $1000 – $4000 worth of digital photo equipment taking photos.  In fact, it seemed bizarre altogether that so many people would take such photos, and for what memories?  I suppose posterity can’t be all that bad, but it doesn’t seem memorable to pick up a photo of an Alligator Gar behind glass, well, unless you happened to jump in the aquarium soon thereafter.  I’m not bitter that I don’t have that equipment in tow, it just seems ludicrous.

I enjoyed the penguins, the jellyfish, and listening to the short narratives from all of those involved in the preservation of the Philippine Reefs…

I made sure to hit up the rainforest dome, I nearly teared at the sight of several butterflies trying to fly out, and the others that lay dead.  Of course my imagination got the best of me, as I attempted to draw a plan to head over to Madagascar to document conservationist groups.

I also hit up the Planetarium and realized that whole fiasco and space is the best place to fall asleep.  It was better than a car ride in a baby’s car seat.  Even the hosts’ voice was very soothing.  But you figure all of its got to be that way to prepare you, ease you into the idea that this world will end, but we have options, and the god that you once thought you may have understood, may not even really be the only god, or be a god at all… all my pains and gripes were washed away temporarily at the prospect that we are not alone, and everything you thought was a big deal, is literally, not a big deal.  Wait, that’s not to dismiss the things we are passionate about, but it’s a good model just to recall when you aren’t at your best.

In a final effort to figure out what brings me joy in my life for that day, I thought about hitting up Amoeba and picking up the Menahan Street Band’s album, but since I had gutted my bank account for most of that day, I abstained.  I figure it would be best to just practice on my trumpet and all it a night…but I didn’t, I went to Manilatown’s pre-V-day festivities.  A small group of Manilatown supporters had their fill of sweets and booze, poetry, salsa dancing, and good company.  I left buzzing to the comforts of my bed (geez, sounds pitiful).

Now it’s Friday the 13th, and I botched things up with a V-Day partner earlier this week so we’ll see how this day goes.  Hopefully the CAAM, SFIAFF kick off party will provide fertile ground for me to come out shining!  Here’s to good friends and libations!

Day 2: It’s going to get worse before it gets better…

Ain’t that the truth?

Day 2, Week -5 / 10:30AM

3 miles on treadmill

Completed in 26m 04s

Peak speed at 10.1 mph for 1 min.

Incline at 6.0 for .25 miles; Incline at 10.1 for .25 miles

I’ll be making a second attempt at the first marathon I’ve attempted in 2007 with the San Francisco marathon at the end of July this year.  Obviously, the 7×7 region is diverse as the communities, and micro-climates that make the space challenging and exciting.  To be prepared, I’ve taken mental and physical steps to tackle more and more hills.  The beginninngs of my running in San Diego hills are jokes compared to any neighborhood in the city, as I’m usually crying by the top of Dolores Park, and some of the quiet hilly inlets that the Mission has to offer.

During training it’s important to mimic the terrain that you’ll be attempting, in fact, it’s even more important you make it even more difficult and overperform routinely, so when race day hits you, you’re well and fine throughout the run.

I’m still slightly under the weather, and I wasn’t about to run outside, as it’s suddenly frostier, yet the sun’s deceptive smiles are inviting compared to the hamster wheel that is the treadmill.  I also forgot my ipod at home, so upper-body dancing or fist-pumping wasn’t happening.  However, the 24hr Fitness radio did play Elvis Costello’s track ‘Veronica,’ and that easily brought me back to high school on walks, or runs around San Diego.  I think I may have smiled midway through one of the ‘hilly’ quarter miles I ran.

Last night, I flipped through Runner’s World magazine, and happened upon the cover story on a very inspired and driven indiviual by the name of Matt Long.  If you have time, peep the video

If not, I’ll give you the short of it — Long was a NY Firefighter who was at the peak of his game with several amazing times for a half-ironman, and marathons.  Circumstances couldn’t predict that on a ride to work on his motorcycle, he would get run over by a bus.  Long lost quarts of blood, his rectum ripped, several perforations within his stomach.  Doctors gave him less than 10% to survive.  Long lived.  Long now lives with a right leg 2 inches shorter than the left, his left leg is infused with a titanium rod, with screws that hold his hip in place…

Long wanted to live better though, so he ran a marathon.

Of course, I’m going to say if he can do it, I can do it.  I know it, you should give it a shot too.

In other ramblings, other pains are getting easier to deal with.  A combination of running and good listeners is gettin’ me by… but much like the state of world’s economy I presume it’ll get far worse before it gets any better.

Like Bukowski taught me though, if you’re all the way at the bottom, ain’t no other place to go but up.

Let’s try this…

It’s difficult to find a consistent thread or theme that permits me to blog.  However, one of the more consistent things in my life has been running.  So with that, I’ll begin logging my progress.

Ironically, I’ve been running inconsistently.  Hopefully, after today, it’ll be regular again.

Day 1, Week -5 (Pre-training schedule) / 10:30AM

Weight: 169lbs.

3 miles on treadmill.

Completed in 23m 03s.

Peak speed at 9.5 mph for 2 mins.

This was a rough one for several reasons.  I had only gotten away with a little over 3 hours of sleep.  There’s a bit of self-imposed drama happening in my life at the moment as well, including but not limited to:  poor time management, and a complicated situation with another person.  I’m always surprised at the challenge of sifting through emotions and rationale when trying to orient yourself next to another person…

With that said, running is probably the cheapest wholistic form of therapy.  Till I find a Pin@y therapist who’s willing to tackle an imagined national consciousness, the decolonization process, and internalized racism/oppression on top of a challenged sense of self-worth attached to an imangined masculinity, I’m going to run….hard.  No… harder.

I know there are other people out there suffering way more than I am, no doubt — but Imma do me, you gon’ do you, ya herd?