Stuck in the Middle (With You)

I’m gearing up for my next race. 10K in Central Park on July 9th. Today I designed the master plan. The path to success. And success isn’t finishing. Success is running fast. Beat my buddies. I know it’s wrong to think like that. Karen already told me. But, contained by 20-something years of inaction, a deeply buried/rooted competitive spirit tend to emerge out of me when I race. On my first try, I ran a sub 7:00 pace over 5K. I beat dudes whom expected to leave me 5 minutes behind. They want their revenge. They literally bullied into registering for the 10K. Now that I did, I’m goin’ for the kill.

During my first race, I lacked experience. My strategy changed as soon as the starter unleashed us. I went from 1) start slow 2) finish strong to 1) run as fast as you can till you collapse 2) collapse near a cop or an ambulance. I collapsed on the finish line. Lucky me. For my next race, I expect to improve in terms of strategy, pace, pain threshold, gears. I’m gonna buy new running shoes. Saucony Kinvara 2. Light. Fast. Like me. (autosuggestion technique)

It’s amazing how something as grueling and uninviting like running can turn into such a passion. I wake up in the morning and really look forward to my run, even though the only fun part of the run is when I’m done with it. The end is always much easier than the middle. The same goes for writing. If you have a good ending, the beginning is a breeze. The shitty part, in running or in writing, is the middle.

The middle is the best part of life. Between the end of the school years until your kids start treating you like a kid. Life begins in the middle. You stop growing high. You start growing up. The middle is the plateau between the getting taller and shrinking.

In a story, the middle is about filling holes purposely left open. A great middle shines by his discretion. A great middle should be present, but introverted. It should be long, yet short. Actor, yet observer. It’s hard work. Like in a run.

I run loops, so the middle point of my run is always the farthest from home. That’s when the Beast screams the loudest. When you are far from home

“Quit, walk, it’s too hard, quit, quit, quit… can’t breath, can’t take the pain.”

One day, I’ll finally master the middles. It’s going to take a lot of writing. A lot of running.
A lot of training. Today, I had some down time. Bas slept all day, recovering from his most recent bout of fever. Mia was out with the Lees. (thank goodness for our NY famiLee: J-Lee, Kim-Lee, lee-Mone). So today, I put together my own little 6 weeks training program. Excel spreadsheet and all. 6 weeks, 5 runs a week. EZ runs, pace runs, hill runs, long runs. Rest. I’m going to stick to it, run my ass off and beat my buddies.

I shocked the world once. I can do it twice.

(Rocky’s theme blasting in the background)