"Woody"

Remember when I said I wasn't going to write any more blog's for this one? Well, I lied.

And I came back just in time to report some of the lowest of lows!

The US Road Mile was about as disasterous a race as I could have hoped for. I felt good for about a 1/2 mile, and then the wheels came off all at once. It was an odd experience, it just kind of all of a sudden happened. People started passing me, I tried to respond, and I couldn't get my legs to move. I dropped out a little after the 3/4 mark. I obviously tried to forget the experience as soon as possible, but much easier said than done. And amazingly, the hits kept coming.

The Red Wings lost to the fricken Sharks. I'm not even that big of a hockey fan, but playoff hockey is intense and fun to watch, and anyone who reads this blog knows how much I love all things Detroit. So I watched the game, got even more upset, and then slept for about 4 hours before my flight back to Michigan.

And it got even worse from there. I woke up with a sore foot. The left foot. The same one that has had 2 stress fractures in a 3 year period. It didn't hurt in the fourth metatarsal, but it still hurt.

So I got home to Bath and tried to nap away my sorrows. Obviously, this wouldn't be easy either. So I begrudgingly got in my Dad's homemade truck (see above picture) to drive up to the local YMCA and get in a swim.

I usually don't mind driving "Woody", and his may or may not be true, but I'm pretty sure the radio was stuck on a station playing Creed. So even the driving was ruined.

Then, as I'm driving over I-69 on an overpass, the hood of that damn truck flies up with a POP! and obscures any point of view I could have ever imagined having. After a brief freakout moment, I pulled the car over, shut him down, got out and slammed the hood shut and latched it with a few four-letter words spewing from my mouth.

I got back in the car and just started laughing. Couldn't get much worse than that...

And it really hasn't. I do not have a stress fracture (thankfully!) and my foot is starting to feel better. I'm skipping the great meet that is taking place at Occidental this weekend (gonna be a stacked 15!) to get my training back and going and get my head on straight.

To put it bluntly, I've struggled with my first year and a half as a pro, but I'm going to figure some things out and get ready for some nice racing come June, July and August. As always, it's go time, and I need to "Let's Go!"

New Yorker - Imported

The Motor City

"It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do." - Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird

I will be the first to admit that there are a few things in life that I seem to overplay (Skyline Chili anyone?). I get into something and I talk it up to any and everyone. It may be overkill, but I go with it anyway. And with how much I love The City of Detroit, some may think I overdo it. Especially considering that my hometown of Bath is a two hour drive away, yet I quote an Eminem movie on the bottom of my LBPjams page. While I may aggrandize some things a little for show, I truly do love Detroit.

They've been around for a while now, all the "Woe is Detroit" pieces in newspapers, radio, and TV spots. Time Inc. even had "Assignment Detroit", where the company bought a house in the city limits, and reported on the city because they believed it was a true "American story." There were no jobs, people were leaving, the politics were rough, and, as Time predicted, some great stories came out of it.

Being a sports fan, I stuck to the Detroit stories related to the Pistons, Tigers, Lions and Wings.

In 2009 when General Motors couldn't afford to pay for a sign over the fountain in centerfield at the Tiger's Stadium, instead of taking the sign down Mike Ilitch (owner of the Tigers and Wings at the time) left it up and put up signs for Chrysler and Ford as well with a sign reading: "THE DETROIT TIGERS SUPPORT OUR AUTOMAKERS." (Article Here)

Then, after the Lions finished 0-16 for the worst season ever, Mitch Albom stood up for Detroit. He pointed out that things weren't great, but the city was going to fix them. In "The Courage of Detroit" he wrote: "We don't talk about whether Detroit will be fixed but when Detroit will be fixed."

My memories of the city stem from street sports in the suburb of Royal Oak. We would drive down Woodward to get downtown and then over to Corktown and my Aunt Sue's house. Then we'd walk the three blocks from there to Tiger Stadium. It was only a buck fifty to get into the game, even on Kazoo night with my Aunt and all her crazy friends. Then maybe my uncle would take us to Lafayette Coney Island for a chili dog. Or we'd visit Granny in Clinton Township when she'd get back from yet another shift at the Sears she worked at for more than 50 years. Sometimes we'd meet all my Dad's high school buddies and play basketball long into the night.

Now when I go, I see Detroit more. I see the old Train Station, dilapidated but still amazing. I see the empty houses from the freeway as we get to my aunt's house. Tiger Stadium is no more, just a field. My mom drives me by the car factories. She tells me that both my grandfathers worked there. My Dad even put in time on the line. The parking lots aren't full.

But here's the thing about Detroit: the people are not giving up. The city may be downtrodden, but they are going to do something about it. It may be an uphill battle, but Detroit plans on winning it.

Then there was the Superbowl Commercial. As soon as I saw the I-75 Detroit sign I was in a trance. I shushed everyone. "It's the hottest fires that make the hardest steel." Hell yeah, I murmured. "Add hard work and conviction and a know how that runs generations deep in every last one of us." Eminem started playing and my jaw dropped. "This isn't New York City." I gotta get outta New York, I thought. "This is the Motor City, and this is what we do." Holy sh*t.

I'm not from Detroit. When people ask me where I'm from I say Bath. They then ask where that is and I say just north of East Lansing and MSU. My Mom told me, along with my entire graduating high school class, to do that. Take pride in where you're from, she said. And I do. That's what people from Detroit do.

I like that pride, and I'm going to try to help. It's not much, but it's better than nothing: every time I win prize money in a race, I am going to make a small donation to the Think Detroit PAL. I won some prize money in my New Balance 1500, and got money to rabbit at Millrose, so two donations are heading to help Detroit's youth through athletic, academic, and leadership programs. A car commercial can do wonders for a city.

My first car was a Chrysler. A New Yorker. Funny how the names worked out like that. It was imported from Detroit. And it was the greatest car in the world.

Liquid Gold

Footage of the race at Gtown last week...(I'm the guy in the headband.)

I walked out of my room holding a jug of Pure Michigan Maple Syrup, looked each of my roommates in the eyes and said: "If either of you even think about taking any of my Pure Michigan Maple Syrup, I'll **expletives deleted** and then I'll **more expletives deleted**!" Then I walked out of the room.

It was at that point that I knew I had a problem with sugar in liquid form.

It started with my dad being an entomologist. Growing up, there were bees everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE. Colonies in the backs had swarms of buzzing drones. At yearly intervals there would be a huge silver spinning vat in the house that was used to extract the honey. I was lucky if I didn't step on a dead bee at some point with the stinger still in tact.

But oh that sweet nectar that my Dad got from those bees. While most kids pulled PB&J sandwiches out of their brown paper lunch bags, I ate PB&Honey. Some kids put brown sugar on their maple syrup, I doused my morning breakfast with silky smooth honey.

On top of my love of honey, my high school's mascot was a Fighting Bee. Everywhere I looked, there was a connection to honey. It was awesome.

Now, my love of liquid sugar goes beyond honey and extends to delicious maple syrup. For a while I was on a Safeway Brand butter flavored syrup craze, but I realized that may be detrimental to my health, so I've gone the good for you sugar route (if there is such a thing).

There is somewhat of a point to this nonsensical post about honey on my "running blog". I look at honey as a healing food. One coach (I won't mention names) I know used to tell his runners that whiskey was a healing power: "Constipated? Take a shot of whiskey...Diarrhea? Take a shot of whiskey." That's how I look at honey. So, if you're a runner and feeling sick, have a squirt of honey...if you're a runner and you're feeling awesome, slurp a little honey.

Bees? Beads!? Beeeees!!! Bzzzzzzz.

--
I'm running a 1500 this weekend at the Armory. Hopefully after last week's race I'll be ready to go for it. I think it's going to be a pretty good field, although I'm unsure who is in it. I go off at 1:40pm EST and I think ArmoryTrack.com usually has a video feed of the races going, so if you're not in NY you can check it out there. Haven't said it in a while, but....LET'S GO!!

Moving On

New York...

...or Michigan?

Falmouth was disappointing to say the least. The Friday shakeout for the Saturday race left my left foot feeling sore and flared up. I had a stress fracture on the 4th metatarsal of this foot as a senior at Columbia, so I have always been extremely careful with that area for the past 3 years. But I decided to ice it a bunch and figured that I could race one more mile on it and then call it a season. However, as soon as the spikes went on for the race on Saturday I knew I was in trouble.

The race had a money bonus if you got under 4, so the racers had decided to split up the pacing duties. I offered to take the first lap just for the chance that my foot wasn’t going to allow anymore. Turns out 600 meters was all that I would make it. The foot was getting worse so I decided to pull the plug, dropping out of a race for the first time since being a sophomore in high school trying to complete the 16, 8, 3200 double and not being ready for the heat and pace of the 2 mile. It’s not fun to drop out of a race, but hopefully I kept my foot from getting too bad. About to see a specialist to try to figure it all out as we speak.

The other big news in my little world is that I am leaving Washington, DC. I loved the city, loved the Georgetown team and really appreciated all that Coach Henner did for me both as a Georgetown runner and after. He has been an amazing coach and really will do anything for his athletes. However, we both decided that if I am going to run at the level that I want to, I needed a little bit more than a college coach.

I have narrowed down my choices to 2 different yet similar places/coaches/groups. I will either be moving back to my home state to train with Olympic Silver Medalist and his coach, Ron Warhurst, or will be moving back to New York City to train with Coach Gagliano. Both coaches are legends and really know how to coach middle distance runners.

I have been given a great opportunity and I am really excited about either group that I join. The next 2 years of my life are going to be all about running, and I am really looking forward to making a push towards my goal of making an Olympic Team (It is funny to say that out loud considering how long the odds are, but that’s the goal, and I’m going to make a run at it).

I was thinking of contacting ESPN to see if they wanted to show “The Decision Part II: LBP to Ann Arbor or NYC?” but I’m not sure they’re interested. Flotrack maybe?

Look out for the decision sometime this weekend or early next week….as always, Let’s Go!

Ireland and Ryan Shay Mile Recaps

Finishing up the Ryan Shay Mile.

A lot has happened since I left Dublin. Almost all of it has gone unreported on runLBP. What follows will be a lengthy (extremely lengthy…save it for work on Monday) recap of the end of my European racing season, a recap of the Ryan Shay Mile race, and what to expect coming up. Please excuse the lack of cohesiveness to the post…it will be in a bulleted format.

• The Dublin race left a lot to be desired. It was nice to know that breaking 4 wasn’t a fluke as I was able to get under the barrier for the second time. However, I once again didn’t race the way I would have liked. I found myself mid-pack the entire way in a slower race. Thus my 57point last lap didn’t help as I was too far away from the real race to really take care of business. Bumbi was half a second ahead of me and felt similar to me as we both realized we couldn’t be that upset with our races but couldn’t be that happy either. We resolved the issue by listening to Rage Against The Machine…
• Speaking of music. My newest jam is straight Euro. Bumbi and I were loving it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTJSt4wP2ME
• Got the hell out of Ireland the morning after the race. It’s funny how I get to travel the world, but a lot of times I stay at an airport hotel and run at a track near said hotel. Needless to say, I didn’t get to see much of Dublin. I did, however, make it back to the good ol’ USA. Not without a hitch though. The Chicago airport failed to get my bag to the Detroit airport with me. Thankfully, due to forgetting this on the way to USAs and getting a stern talking to from Coach Henner, I had my flats in my carry on luggage. Thus, the lack of clothing/actual running shoes wasn’t as big of a deal leading up to Ryan Shay as one would think. And thankfully Will is the same size and had some running shorts I could wear. Oddly, I don’t think he followed my “bring two extra pairs of underwear rule” as I was relegated to one pair for most of the weekend up north. It was nice to be back on Michigan soil and racing for only the second time in my home state since high school. Also, my uncles cabin that he let us stay in is an amazing house on Lake Michigan. So we had a star treatment for the race.
• Ryan Shay Mile: the race itself was awesome. I was singlet-less and was almost forced to wear a way too tight women’s jersey that Christine brought along, but thankfully Rob Novak came through with an extra NYAC singlet. (Rob ended up taking 3rd in the race for a big what would be PR, but road miles don’t count officially.) It was a pretty cool experience. They announced us in front of the finish line crowd and then drove all of the competitors up to the start line in the back of a truck. Crammed next to the rest of the runners the drive seemed to be taking a really long time. I made eye contact with a Kenyan runner and nervously said: “damn, this seems like more than a mile.” He nervously laughed.
• There was an arbitrary start line and they sent us off with the blow of a horn. There was a $250 bounty for being the leader at the half-mile. Some people were serious about getting that cash money. I didn’t see the quarter mile mark, but we were supposedly through in 55 seconds. Approaching the ½, I looked up at the clock and saw 1:47…I was sitting on Jeff See’s shoulder at this point and somehow calmly said, “if that time is true we’re f!*#ed.” Rumor has it we were through in 1:53 and I was in around 6th place (it is also worth mentioning that one of the runners was clearly trying to get the $250 bounty because he dropped out before the half realizing he wasn’t going to get it).
• The next quarter things slowed down. I started to relax and realized that I had a shot at this thing. The runners ahead of me had gone out a little too hard and were starting to come back to me. I remained on See’s shoulder. With 400 to go there was a hill. I straight sprinted down it. Flattening out, I found myself right next to the leader and decided I might as well make a run for it. I probably went too soon. But when you go you gotta go…so I started rolling.
• The finish line seemed like a ways away, so I was charging and trying to avoid locking up. It didn’t quite work. With probably 100 to go, See went by me. I tried to find an extra gear, but probably wasted it on the downhill. I still fought hard and See only barely pulled away from me. I crossed the finish line in 2nd, with a 3:56 to my name and 500 bones in my bank account. And I was happy with how I raced. One of my mantras that Coach Wood passed on to me (and bear with the language, Coach Wood even said he doesn’t like to swear while telling us) is sometimes you just have to say, “F-word it.” Nothing is ever going to go perfectly, so you have to go out there and run. And that’s what I did that weekend. No luggage, no problem. Don’t feel good on the warm up? Who cares. Leading up to Penn last year, John Maloy told me that he didn’t feel that good. I looked at him, told him, “you don’t have to feel good to run fast,” then smacked his but and did a strider. He split 1:48 twice that weekend and was on a 7:16 4x8 team.
• Also…it was great to run in the Ryan Shay Mile. For those of you who don’t know, Ryan was a legend in Michigan running. He is the only person who has ever won 4 individual state cross country championships (he even won as a freshman!). I ran against his younger brother Stephan in high school (Stephan is also trying to pursue a running career right now…we don’t race much any more as he is more of a distance guy) and always had to bring my A-game if he was going to be around. Tragically, Ryan Shay died while running the 2008 Olympic Trials Marathon in Central Park. I was watching in the park that day and was shocked to hear of the terrible news. This was the 3rd year of the Ryan Shay Mile and they really put on a great race. The Shay parents were in attendance and it was great to be part of a race that remembers a great competitor like Ryan.
• Since the mile, life has been a little hectic. My flight back to DC was less than ideal as I ended up staying the night in the Atlanta airport. I then moved out of my DC house and don’t really know where I’m going to live. That will all figure itself out soon enough. I head to Nova Scotia on Monday for a Tuesday night 1500…I am extremely excited. The end of the season is approaching and last week wasn’t perfect. But you don’t have to feel good to run fast.

Let’s Go!

Dublin Track for the Morton Mile.

Climbing up the Sleeping Bear Dune.

Shay Mile Awards Stand

Beautiful Lake Michigan...

Family Records

The spiked shoes on the runner in front of him gripped the cinders and then tossed them out behind. His Chuck Taylors failed to have the same effect as they slid across the black surface. With “FRASER T&F” stitched onto his singlet in blue and gold, and a budding pony-tail flowing in the wind behind him, the runner in the Chucky T’s labored past the spiked runner and crossed the finish line in first place.

His time for the ½-mile: 2:00.0

And with that a family record was born. It was the late 60s, and 2-flat for a freshman was promising to say the least. That runner was my Dad, and as a freshman in high school, the guy could run.

Walter Pett decided to stop running after that year (he claims he hated the coach), but his two-minute half would live on for years to come.

My brother and I have encyclopedic minds when it comes to our track times. (My mile PR’s from 7th grade on: 5:20, 4:54, 4:38, 4:21, 4:17, 4:10, 4:09, 4:08, 4:06, 4:04, 3:59, 4:00.) And because of this, we have a set of family records. Call it the Boylan-Pett Record Book. We have categories for each age group. There’s seventh grade 800, which Will has at 2:19, and 12th grade 3200, which Will has at 9:31. Then there’s every other age group and record ranging from 800-3200, which I have. Juust kidding, Will has freshman year 1600 and most 3200s as well.

Will and I dominate the record books. Only one record didn’t have the name Will or Liam next to it. It was the 800 (or half-mile, since that’s what they ran back in the 60s) for 9th grade: and the 2:00 remained the record after I was only able to run a 2:01 as a relay split.

But this week, there were some changes made to the record book, which is now titled the Boylan-Pett/Pett/Fanta Records. That’s because Annie, my little sister, decided to drop a 63.7 one-lapper as a seventh grader! Yiikes that is moving! Congrats to Annie for moving her skinny little self around the track so quick. I’m looking forward to see what her and her teammates can do the rest of the track season as they have some fast girls rocking the Mid-Michigan track circuit.
--
Training went well this week. I’m looking forward to heading out to Minneapolis to run a road mile on Thursday night. Back to some good old fashioned street racing, and I really can’t complain about that. It is shaping up to be a really good field, and I’m starting to get pretty jacked up for it.

Got to actually run some fast stuff in practice on Friday as I did 3x600 with the first two at 1:26.6 and then 1:26.4. Then ran the last one in 1:21 after coming through the first 200 in 28high. Nice to get back to some 800 paced stuff and starting to get sharp for some racing...

That’s all for this week: the picture is in honor of Mother’s Day and my favorite Mom quote of all: “She just shown on me like the sun.” Happy Mother’s Day!

Let’s GO!!

Degrees

So this is going to be a short post. My final project in my Master’s program is due May 3, so I have to make sure it is perfect. My project is a lot about running, though, so you all will get a little treat to it…mainly because I had no idea what to write about this week, so I’m just going to cut and paste something in.

I wasn’t extremely pleased with my race at Stanford this week, but there was a lot to learn from it. Namely, that I need to be able to handle being tired and head into a race still with my head on straight. I am racing May 13th in Minneapolis for the USA Road Mile Championship and then May 22nd at Occidental College for a hopefully fast 1500… That’s all the updating for now. Enjoy the opening to my Capstone Project (thesis type project for journalism students at Gtown)…

Traveling Stoll Road in Bath, Michigan, the distance between Upton and Center Roads is one mile. Starting at Upton and going east to west, the first three hundred yards is flat before a steep hill leads to a mailbox marked 7804 that signals the first quarter mile. A field opens up to the south while tall pine and walnut trees hug the north side of the street as the dirt road flattens out for another two hundred meters. Long blades of crabgrass droop over the shoulder of the road as the fuzzy ends of the yellow foxtail weed find themselves caked in brown dust. A slight downhill begins as three ranch style houses appear behind the giant Oak Trees lining their front yards. Power lines carry long black ropes down the hill and continue onward towards Center. At the halfway point, one smaller electricity post stands alone, away from the larger ones lining the entire street. One measly, black cord extends from the post. It makes its way to another lonely pole, drooping in the middle to form a sad smile. Below the lowpoint of the smile is a creek that cuts under Stoll perpendicularly. Extending from Potter Lake to the southwest, largemouth bass sometimes follow the creek outward. A young fisherman sits atop the steel cylinder tunnel that runs below the road with his legs dangling back and forth above the clear water. If he hears anything other than the buzz of horseflies and gnats, it is the faint crunches of gravel. Quick, rhythmic steps tread over the dirt road and the crunch becomes more and more audible. The fisherman turns around to see a runner approaching him. A sun worn mop of frizzled, curly hair bounces on top of his head with each step. Sweat beads flow from his hairline down his hollow cheeks and fall from his chin down to his chest. Sweat soaked shorts swish with each step as droplets splatter in dark brown splotches on the road behind him.

“One fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine,” The voice inside my head counts off as I pass the electrical post to my right that marks a half-mile to go. “They’re on pace now, just over halfway there.”

I wave my arm at the fisherman and only slightly disrupt my running motion before switching my concentration to the approaching hill. Up I run past the farmland to my left. To my right is the Jerome’s, an old farmhouse with black shutters outlining each of the windows. Robson Road branches off to my right and I only have a quarter mile to go.

“Two fifty-eight, two fifty-nine,” The announcer in my head reads off. “400 to go and these guys are getting going now.”
I steady myself and pick up the pace, bouncing a little higher with each step as I arrive at the crest of the hill and begin a slight decline for the last 200-meters.

“Less than half a lap to go and Boylan-Pett looks like he’s going to get under!”

I hunker down and veer to the right side of the road, picking up the tempo even more. Down the last hundred I float, covering ground as smoothly as possible.

“Three fifty-seven, fifty eight, fifty nine…”

I pass the stop sign to my right and click my watch.

“He just did it ladies and gentlemen! Liam Boylan-Pett has broken four for the mile!...”

I snap out of the track world in my head and glance at my watch. No three on it. Not a five or a nine either. Forty-five minutes and six seconds, it shows.

The imagination of an aspiring high school miler lets you break four even on easy runs.

That's The Midwest For Ya...

The above picture is my Dad’s camper (legitimately called a Scamp) that has gotten him some mileage throughout the years. My Dad knows how to bargain; he once traded $60 and two jars of salsa for an old Toyota truck…his salsa is really good. This picture of the camper was last year’s Xmas card for Walt.

I finally made it back to Michigan, and it was just in time for a Christmas filled with gusting winds and accompanying rainfall that wiped all the snow away. I think DC and Michigan decided to switch their normal weather patterns for the past week.

Not to worry, last night the snow returned and its back to me sliding my way through my runs. I like snow running though. I try not to even look at my watch and just go out for the mile markers that I know in Bath, of which there are plenty. I feel like more of a badass with snow running, maybe it’s because the air seems thinner due to the cold or the small steps I take so carefully so as not to fall (not to say I haven’t bitten the dust a few too many times on these roads.)

But, the show must go on, especially in Man Month, so I continue to go out in weather like the picture that follows (although this pic is from last year, the snow is almost at this height already):

–
The running went pretty well last week. Was able to do a 4 mile tempo and then got in some 200s yesterday after getting a day off this week because of the holidays. Yesterday, thanks to the rain, I got up to the old high school track and pounded out 12×200 with a 200 jog. It was meant to be a get used to your pace type workout so they were each supposed to be in the 30 second range.

Thanks to the gusting winds, I was a little varied on the times hitting anything from 30point high to 28point low. Overall it was a good workout, and even in the sub-freezing temperatures I was able to get in a solid workout.

My racing schedule is still non-existent for the sole reason that we don’t know what races I will be able to get into. Hopefully I’m in good enough shape to get into some of the bigger US indoor meets. I will be sure to keep everyone updated.

And in great news, expect an announcement sometime after the new year about an update to runLBP…it’s exciting stuff.

Let’s Go!