Rudyard Kipling was a 4:30 Miler

It is tough being at home when Penn Relays is going on. As you can see from my Penn Relays post earlier this week (and be sure to check that out), it is one of my favorite weekends of the year. However, sometimes you have to pay attention to the bigger plan and hope that you’ll be able to see Usain Bolt in person some other time.

Also turns out that I had some work to do this weekend. I am closing in on the end of the semester, which for me means the end of the line and hopefully a Master’s Degree at the finish. But I am working on my capstone project, and yes (surprise!) it is running based. I am doing a little piece on the mile and what it means to me and what it should mean to others. Part of it looks like it is going to be published so things are looking good on that front.

I bring this up because I have been reading any book I can find on distance running, and especially the mile. I would bore you with quotes that I found interesting, but then I was glancing back through Once A Runner, the book that many claim is the best running book ever written. In all honesty, it captures the essence of the sport and I think does a fantastic job. One section at the beginning of the book is introducing the protagonist, Quenton Cassidy.

On the third floor of Doobey Hall a battered oak door held two three-by-five index cards neatly thumbtacked one atop the other.

The top one said in Smith Corona pica:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
-Rudyard Kipling, 1892

The other card read:
Rudyard kipling was a 4:30 miler.
-Quenton Cassidy, 1969

Now I laugh at this quote because here I search long and hard for quotes that will help my piece out and then this Cassidy character tells me that they all mean nothing unless the guy who wrote it is fast.

But Cassidy is full of it, because Kipling can write. Sometimes that’s better than running fast.
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Had another good week of training and getting pumped to head out to Stanford to race this coming weekend. Should be a nice 1500 heat and hopefully I can get another good race in. It’s all still leading up to hopefully being ready to go come USAs…so just gotta keep on the grindstone and get in some races in the meantime.

Workouts this last week were strength based with some 800s on Tuesday and then some split 800s (5-3) on Friday at more 1500 pace effort. Probably wont back off too much this week and then pop a nice time out in some Cali weather…definitely looking forward to it.

Let’s Go!

Racing Trains

“We might not be the best people” – Jack
“But we’re not the worst!” – Liz
“Graduate students are the worst.” – Jack and Liz
-30 Rock

Now not all graduate students are the worst. But we certainly aren’t the best either. Sometimes grad school can get a little tedious and boring. But other times it can be great.

One course has really stood out. “The Reported Memoir” has allowed me to write about my favorite subject: myself! But in all honesty, it has been fun to try to write a story that you think you know so much about, but end up finding that you really didn’t know a thing.

Back in my freshman year at Columbia, I raced the subway. It is this topic that acts as the driving force of my first official memoir. Here is an excerpt from the still unfinished story, but enjoy…
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Choo, Choo, Choo. Smack, Smack, Smack. The six-car train barrels forward carrying its’ passengers to their destinations.

Stomp, Stomp, Stomp. Gah, Gah, Gah. My feet and exhale breaths carry me along, unwavering.

At about 12 feet tall and 227 tons, the R62A rushes forward unrelenting, ready to smash anything in its path.

At about 5-foot-10 and 135 pounds, I delicately glide over the sidewalk, avoiding even dips in the sidewalk that could falter my stride.

Dreadfully, the green lights begin to turn against me as their hues turn a yellowish orange. The signal men who were smiling at me earlier saying, “Oh go ahead, you’re fine,” have turned into a red, blinking hand warning me, “Stop you idiot, you’re going to kill yourself.”

Idiot I may be, I am going to beat this subway. My cadence quickens, light feet, clear mind.

Nearing the intersection at 113th, I see a car raring to cross Broadway. A quick glance left; the light is green. A quick glance ahead; the driver is looking down. A quick decision; I’m going for it.

“Oh shit,” I realize as I cross in front of the car and see that the driver has just looked up. My right arm extends, my hand in the same position as the one in the walk signal that had warned me against continuing. I Heisman pose my way across the street, the driver slams his foot back onto the brake, and I continue on as a honk from behind rings in my ears.
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In running news, it was an alright week. Struggled through a mile repeat workout, which reminded me how much I hate mile repeat workouts. Now, off for another week of running and only 2 weeks away from the race out in the Bay Area. Gonna be fun.