The Friday Ramble 12/4/20

A weekly spin through training and whatever else comes our way

Each week, the Friday Ramble will offer a snapshot of my training along with other things that are floating around in my brain. This week: a Substack rec, a reader question, a trip through March, 1973 with the Grateful Dead, and an update on where this newsletter is going.

One of my goals for 2020 was to make the transition to a four-week training cycle with a three-week buildup followed by a week of rest and recovery. I had previously been doing three-week cycles, a holdover from what I learned when I was training for road marathons. 

You wouldn’t think an extra week would be that big a deal. But after two progressively harder weeks layered on top of one another, that third week becomes a monster. Especially when your body has been conditioned to expect a reprieve. 

It took a while, but I’m finally getting comfortable with the four-week cycle. It allows me to build a broader base and also encourages some variance in the training. I can mix up mileage, workouts and routes without feeling like I lost the plot. Additionally, looking at things from a slightly longer perspective has helped get me through the pandemic slog a little better than I might have otherwise. 

The impetus for making the move to four weeks was to prepare for my first 50-miler. The change in training tactics was supposed to be only one part of a broader adjustment to my training philosophy. The race was canceled and I haven’t put the other elements into practice yet. (They included taking in real-food nutrition and incorporating the back-to-back long run.) 

Anyway, that’s a long way of saying I’m right in the middle of a training block. I did 42 miles during Thanksgiving week with about 5,500 feet of climbing. My plan was to really hammer the climb this week. Alas, that knee tweakage cost me a run, but I had an awesome long run this morning and still managed to do 40 miles with 6K feet of climb while mixing in some tougher outings.

My goal for the third and final week of this block is to have everything come together in beautiful synchronicity. Let’s say, about 45 miles with a long run around three hours and 6.5K feet of climb. We might be getting snow this weekend, but that’s what gear is for.

Let’s get it. 

What I’m reading: The Burning Shore

A friend of mine tipped me off to the strange and wonderfully warped world of Erik Davis. He’s the author of a few books including High Weirdness, which I am getting into now. It’s a little out there, I’ll acknowledge. Davis has a substack called Burning Shore that I enjoy, although I’m not sure how to characterize it in a sentence. 

His piece on the death of Eddie Van Halen struck a devil’s triad chord with my adolescent self. Like Davis, I wasn’t that into Van Halen as a band, but they were inescapable if you grew up in the 80s. I can vividly remember skate sessions in an abandoned swimming pool with early Van Halen, Misfits, and Sabbath tapes providing the soundtrack. (Please note that I was a lousy skateboarder, but that anecdote was too cool not to share.) 

Not that I’ve spent a ton of time thinking about it, but I never really identified the element of Eddie’s playing that I found attractive. It was fast and technical, sure, but it was also way more melodic than the thrashmeisters or the hair metal poseurs of the time.

Davis hit on it here: 

Metal has always had a relationship to the inorganic—that’s why it’s called metal. In Eddie’s hands, metal got mercurial: shiny and liquid and fast as an integrated circuit printed with quicksilver. Robert Christgau, grudgingly admitting the singularity of EVH’s chops, nonetheless slagged his playing as “Technocracy putting a patina on cynicism.”

“Cynicism”? That’s too cynical for me. While there is a cold and wonky aspect to EVH’s playing, it lacks the imperious and disembodied demands of technocracy. What we might call his “mastery” is also wedded to a metamorphic radiance that is indistinguishable from play, not just the playfulness of a tinkerer or a kid—that winning Eddie smile—but the sheer exuberance of material technique pushed to the edge of incandescence, and then spilling over the edge. Eruption.

RIP Eddie. 

Reader questions 

This week’s question comes from Eric Nusbaum, author of Stealing Home: Los Angeles, the Dodgers and the Lives Caught Between. Eric is also the co-creator with Adam Villacin of the wonderful SportsStories, which is absolutely worth checking out. In addition to editing me at the late, lamented Classical, Eric is an all-around fine fellow who is just getting into running.  

Eric asks: How often do I need to get new shoes? 

When I was a road runner I'd swap them out every 300 miles or so. I track shoe mileage in my training log, so I can anticipate when it’s time for a new pair. I like to break in a new pair slowly, getting about 50 miles in a shoe before taking it out for anything longer than an hour. Unless an old pair is totally unrunnable, I tend to keep them around for a bit just in case the other one gets soaked or trashed in the winter. 

A couple of indicators -- and keep in mind, this is an inexact science -- if there's excess wear and tear, especially the tread, it's time for new shoes. If you can fold the midsole in half like a taco, it's definitely time for new shoes. Honestly, if you feel like it's time for new shoes, it's probably time for new shoes. 

For trail runners, I can get up to about 500 miles on a pair, but that’s a whole other deal. We’ll talk about the quiver some other time. 

Behold the quiver.

Have a question? Hit me up and I’ll try to answer it, or I will find someone way more qualified than me to provide a response.

What I’m listening to: March ‘73 

Music plays a central role in my life. I listen to music when I’m writing, working out, and making dinner. Pretty much the only time I don’t listen to music is when I’m running. Fair warning: I’m a certified Grateful Dead freak.

I’m trying, per my wife’s wishes, to reexamine my music library because she’s had it up to here with Sugaree. If she had her way, there would be no more Deal’s going down. We shall not be going through the transitive nightfall of diamonds anytime soon. Ah, the joys of pandemic living. 

Too bad for her, though, our kid has been on the bus since preschool. We used to listen to the China>Rider + Eyes of the World from the Grateful Dead Movie soundtrack endlessly because it was the only CD that would still work in my car. 

Like me, he enjoys a good ‘73 and we’ve been working through March of that year while we do his schoolwork. The Eyes from this period are particularly wonderful, as is Playin’ in the Band. My happy place is the moment of reentry in Playin’ just before the reprise and the inevitable Donna wail. 

Each show from that March run hints at new directions and unexplored possibilities, like the blissed out space tucked around the Truckin’ runout and the end of the Weather Report Suite intro from Baltimore. In old interviews, Jerry Garcia talked a lot about the power of flow. His high point, as it were, was to be in a place where he could play music without distracting thoughts getting in the way of his performance. That sounds an awful lot like the feeling I get when a run is clicking on all cylinders. 

What I’m digging most about this run are the venues: Nassau Coliseum, the Spectrum, the Aud in Buffalo. If there’s a nostalgia element to the Dead for me, it’s the old buildings. Each one is distinctive to its city in a way all the corporate bank centers and airline arenas of today can’t replicate. 

Of particular note are two shows from the Memorial Auditorium in Utica, New York. That’s not far from where my grandmother lived, along with my aunt, uncle and various cousins. When I was a kid, we’d visit every year for the holidays. 

My uncle Mike passed away this summer and I haven’t really processed it yet. While he was in no way a Deadhead, listening to these shows put me in touch with his spirit at a time of the year when I miss him the most. 

So, what’s the plan for Running, Probably? 

First, let me say thank you. I am completely blown away by the response to this newsletter. At last check, there are almost 1,400 subscribers, and I thank each and every one of you for giving this project a chance. Your responses on the Rookie Mistakes post have been nothing short of inspiring. Feel free to check them out if you have some time and add your own. 

I’m learning a lot about the newsletter model, but it seems to me that the best way to grow this community is by word of mouth. If you like what I’m doing, please tell your friends and invite them to subscribe. 

There was no Substack when I conceived of Running, Probably in the spring of 2017. My plan at the time was to build a website where runners could hang out and talk about running in a safe, non-judgmental space. That’s still a long-term goal. In whatever form it takes, I’d like to create a cool place on the Internet where we can share our experiences, celebrate our triumphs, and offer encouragement, knowledge and support. 

At some point in the near future, this newsletter will shift over to a paid model. As those of you who followed my basketball writing career may know, I left Vox Media over the summer. Truth be told, I was ready for the freelance life and more than ready to bring this concept to life. This is my passion project, but it’s also the path I’d like to take professionally.

My goal with RP is to devote all of my writing energy into making it as interesting and informative as possible. I have plans for a podcast and to incorporate journalistic elements into the mix, as well. I’d still like to create a site where RP can live on its own. All of that will depend on funding and I want to make sure you get your money’s worth. 

The plan is to roll out three posts a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. That’s a somewhat ambitious publishing schedule given that I’m freelancing and taking on primary childcare duties that include zoom-schooling a first grader, but I think I can make it work. 

If training teaches us anything, it’s the ability to focus on the day-to-day while adapting to changing circumstances without losing sight of the big picture. That’s the approach I plan to take with RP. I reserve the right to take a rest day every now and again, but I pride myself on showing up every day and putting in the work. 

Thank you all for reading and subscribing. I’d love to hear about your weekend runs in the comments.