Blissful Masochism

This morning, I woke up at 3:45am, drove two hours to northern New Jersey, got slightly misdirected by faulty GPS, ran a 20 mile training run around the nice but lonely town of Long Branch, had a post-run conversation with Abby about wanting to do an ultra-marathon and a race up Mt. Washington, drove back home through heavy Easter traffic, submerged my lower extremities in a bathtub full of ice water for 15 minutes and only just now (13 hours later) am finally relaxing in my sweats with my feet up. Why, you ask, do I subject myself to such masochistic adventures?

Simple- I'm a runner.

And therefore, by definition, masochistic- intentionally and blissfully masochistic.

A more elaborate answer comes from a detailed recounting of all of today's events. As mentioned, today began early. So early that as I drove to meet Abby, the only other signs of human life I saw were the police officer hidden around a corner looking for drivers inebriated from the night's festivities and several young ladies in stilettos stumbling out of Wawa with an arm full of food. I, on the other hand, was just going for a Sunday morning run. Longer and further away than most, but a Sunday morning run nonetheless. The drive up was relatively uneventful: an amusing recount Abby's unfortunately eventful day yesterday, Passover-adibing and gluten-free pre-run fueling with Baked Lays and PB&J rice cakes, respectfully and some discussion about both the absurd and beneficial aspects of what we were doing. The unreliable GPS on my phone led us slightly off course, but with "help" from a gas station attendant and our own logical reasoning we made it to The Shore Runner, where the NJ Road Runners Association meet for their monthly Sunday long runs. This run would include one loop of the actual NJ Marathon course and then additional miles to make your desired length run (ours was 20 miles). A pre-"race" meeting with helpful instructions from the marathon director and we were off down the boardwalk along the picturesque beach, ready or not.


I guess there were 70-80 other runners starting off, although after mile one, I never saw more than 12 different people. It had the potential to be a very lonely, potentially confusing run. Abby and I planned to run together so we would avoid utter loneliness and at least have the company of each other. Shortly after starting, we happened upon a new friend, Andrew, another out-of-towner in Jersey today for the opportunity at a long run change-of-pace. We quickly began conversing and fell perfectly in step with each other. Our pace was brisk, but comfortable. We finished the first mile in under 8 minutes- definitely faster than anticipated or suggested. But we felt good and continued, slowing slightly but maintaining a good kick. We eventually met up with two other runners who joined our Motley Crue.

The organizers of the NJ Marathon take extreme pride in their race and go to extraordinary lengths to accommodate any desires and needs of the runners participating. The course was remarkably well marked with arrows painted on the road, signs warning drivers of road closings during the race (in three weeks) and race directors driving the course assuring runners were staying on track. (We only missed two turns- both times likely due to our own distraction and lack of attention, not poor marking of the course.) In addition to course organization, this training run came with 6 fully stocked aid stations on each loop. Customary water and Gatorade was accompanied by standard chocolate and vanilla GUs, as well as Easter appropriate jelly beans and Peeps (yes, the sugar-coated marshmallow chicks). I had a handful of jelly beans at several points along the course, the closest I got to anything constituting an Easter celebration. The organization and management of this run easily marveled some larger and official races that I have done. I was remarkably impressed. New Jersey just gained some major props in my book.

Oh and I almost forgot the actual running part (that was the point of today). Well, it kicked ass. We kicked ass. Major ass. We more or less maintained our aforementioned starting pace. Despite some slower miles on account of a head wind or slowing to pour our own water and one much needed bathroom break, we were remarkably on pace with our overarching goal. And by "on pace" I mean ahead of pace. We finished 20 miles in 2 hours, 45 minutes and a disputable number of irrelevant seconds. Most importantly, feeling good, really good and very excited at the accomplishment. High fives all around.

A post-race meal with Andrew at a nearby eatery (with a typical New Jersey menu composed of more options than most cookbooks) rounded out the awesomeness of the day. An extremely freaky, candy basket-wielding Easter Bunny was at the restaurant and we took the opportunity for a classic photo-op.


As if running 20 miles wasn't enough masochism for one day, I decided to partake some yet uncharted masochistic territory: my first ice bath. I stopped on the way home to pick up some ice. The gas station was out, the Wawa up the road had only two bags left. Wow, a lot of people must be taking ice baths today. I bought both bags and upon arriving home, promptly emptied them into a tub full of cold water. I changed into tiny spandex shorts, a thick running shirt and heavy ski jacket. And then I got in. Gasp.


The initial feeling was less than pleasant, but once I resigned myself to cold and pain, I got comfortable. I caught up on the latest issue of Runners World- appropriately reading articles about qualifying for Boston and taking care of your body. 15 minutes later, risking frostbite and frozen organs, I decided it was probably time to get out. Feeling cold, but good, I continued to reflect on the day.

It was, for lack of a better term, the perfect day.

Some consider me crazy to willfully subject myself to such experiences. I agree. I am crazy. But I'm a runner.

And if you want to know why, my answer is simple. I never stopped smiling all day long. Who could ask for anything better?