So, Tad is an awesome guy.
Being an ultra-marathoner, I thought it would be interesting to get his perspective on running, diet, and all things health related. And so I wrote about it, posting snarky remarks in between his gracious and thoughtful responses to my questions. If you missed that post, you can read it by clicking here.
In that post I insinuated that perhaps he would respond to some of my reactions, and therefore I would get to post again…and the conversation would continue. But, let’s be honest, in a conversation with the Tadster, I don’t really compete. Anyone who can run 80 miles a week and consider it “conditioning” wins. Hands down.
I don’t care what Charlie Sheen says, that’s the definition of “winning.”
Today Rhonda and I headed to the gym. She was complaining that I never run on the treadmill next to her, and accused me of “not wanting to run with her.” I responded that I really didn’t want to run at all, so who it was next didn’t matter.
And yet, run I did. That’s sacrifice, folks.
But before you think I’m up for sainthood (not happening, mom), consider Tad’s work. Here are some of his responses to my remarks in that first post. I’ve put my remarks in italics, and put his responses in normal font. And then my NEW responses to his thoughtful remarks come after that.
And if that confuses you, just go back to your abacus and stick to math; reading obviously isn’t your thing.
At the end of the post is the week in review. As my friend Patrick Shebeck would say, “Later Gators!”
Tim’s remark to Tad’s note that he runs ultra-marathons:
That is a long time. Which means, in real terms, that you’ve run farther on foot than I’ve been on plane, train, automobile, foot, and riding lawnmower combined.
Tad’s response: You know, your response made me actually think about how far I’ve run recently. I did some rough calculations in my head, and I figure I’ve probably run close to 20,000 miles in the past 5 years. That’s a lot of miles…and a lot of expensive running shoes. The cumulative cost of your plane and train tickets, gas, and automobile (and lawn mower) wear-and-tear is probably less than what I’ve spent on Asics and Five Fingers.
Tim: Five Fingers are those shoes where each toe gets its own cozy compartment, right? I have a pair of those, and sometimes I run in them. But I find that my calves kill me when that happens, so it’s become less frequent. Am I running wrong? On another note, do you feel self-conscience because you look stupid running in those? I do…
Tim’s remark to Tad’s note on pushing the body to extremes:
The dedication that requires is definitely admirable. I want to wonder out loud what it might look like to push a body the other direction, to see what a body is capable of in slovenly conditions. Although, looking around me on the Red Line, I can see that that experiment is well underway and probably on its second and third trial.
Tad’s response: I think my wife would say my dedication is bordering on obsession. But that’s another story for another day…
Tim: Hmmm. Intriguing. The counselor in me says, “Tell me more about that.” Followed up quickly by a “That’s too much information.” I’ve seen the show “Obsession” on A&E. If I see you on there I’m calling an intervention. Running can be the enemy.
Tim’s remark to Tad’s note on not over-running when preparing for a race:
Interesting! It’s kind of like when I’m preparing to go to Standard India, the Indian buffet, and I skip breakfast and lunch. Overeating doesn’t help my body prepare for that food. I imagine over running is much the same. Except, well, healthier…but not as tasty.
Tad’s response: Oh, I can eat me some Indian food. While we don’t have a good Indian buffet near the house, we do have a restaurant (Zagat rated, no less) that serves the best chicken tikka masala and chicken kashmiri this side of the Indian subcontinent.
Tim: Awesome! Although, be honest, you don’t eat Indian before running long distances, do you? I mean, I question how one would go to the bathroom on a normal marathon run, let alone an ultra-marathon. Some thoughts that come to mind: where do you hide the tp? Do you bother to stop running if you have to urinate, or do you just run backwards? Is there an unspoken rule that fellow runners don’t mind if they see people “taking care of business” a little close to the road? In another sense, I can see how eating Indian food might encourage one to finish a race as quickly as possible.
Tim’s remark to Tad’s body fat percentage:
Disregard the above answer to your first paragraph. I don’t eat at Indian buffets. At least not when I’m confronted with 1-2% body fat…
Tad’s response: My wife says that, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that my body fat percentage is not that low. That would put me in Dean Karnazes territory…
Tim: She’s an honest woman. And I hear she’s from New York City, which also makes her tough as nails and a possible homicide witness (if we’re going by stereotypes). But, seriously, your body fat count can’t be more than 4, which makes it a good 22 percentage points lower than mine so, “winning.”
Tim’s remark to Tad’s not clarifying whether he works for a secret branch of government:
You never answered whether or not you’re a secret agent…
Tad’s response: Let’s just say that I always thought the words were “Secret Asian Man”, not “Secret Agent Man”. Trust me, you don’t want me in charge of your national security.
Tim: And, yet again, you evade the question.
Tim’s remark to Tad’s noting that his wife gets sick at his using running metaphors:
Couldn’t agree more! And my wife also sickens when she hears me…say anything.
Tad’s response: My wife now informs me that she’s used to hearing me use running metaphors for nearly all of life’s situations.
Tim: But is she OK with it? My wife hears me burp a lot, but for some reason she still gives me a dirty look. Being used to something is not the same as tolerating it.
Tim’s remark to Tad mentioning he once yelled at an oncoming runner, “Isn’t it a glorious day to run?”
And had that oncoming runner been me, I would have screamed back. Nothing in particular, just screamed.
Tad’s response: I will admit that, in the last mile of that 100-miler (which was actually 101.85 miles), I was cursing the trails, the hills, and the rocks I had to run on. I just wanted the run to be OVER.
Tim: Uhuh. Look, you just ran 100 miles. What is one more, really?! That’s the way I look at Doritos. You’ve eaten almost the whole bag, what’s one more, really?!
Tim’s remark to Tad’s mention of throwing up:
You and I share a similar penchant for puking. Ah, bonding over bodily fluids…
Tad’s response: Running has eliminated any sense of shame I have left. Puking (which I have thankfully yet to do on a long run or in a race) is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ll leave it at that.
Tim: I would say you haven’t applied yourself. Go by my mantra, “If there is no bile, you have to run another mile.”
I then mentioned Tad’s father’s running being noted in a local paper:
For a nice news story mentioning Tad and his father, Indiana pastor Philip Meyer (props to Terre Haute), check out the Tri-Star reporting on ultra-marathoner Dean Karnazes by clicking here.
Tad’s response: BTW, my father completed his first marathon over the weekend, the Phoenix Rock and Roll marathon. Given that he retired from the ministry over the summer, he needed something to occupy his time. Running seemed to be the best fit, most likely because it got him out of my mom’s hair.
Tim: Very cool. I want to run a marathon, too one day as well. Perhaps when I retire!
Thanks, Tad, for the great thoughts and responses. I have to say that it’s really remarkable that you can run those distances and not puke. Today I basically looked at the treadmill and felt ill. But, as you said, one day it will be enjoyable.
I long for that day…
Week in Review
Days of cardio: 3
Days of lifting: 2
Prayer/Meditation: 4 days
Weight at beginning of the week: 232
Weight at the end of the week: 231
Flossing: Still going strong!
Next week I’m going to try spinning classes at the gym. Get ready for projectile vomiting!