We've moved!

The Fat Runner as you know it is no more! This site will no longer be updated. Instead, check out the new home of the Fat Runner at:

http://www.breakingthetape.com/fat-runner/

This is a much-needed upgrade and all things Fat Runner will be espoused upon there-in.

RUN FAT!

3 + 6 = 2 PRs

It's Tuesday. That means that there have been two runs and a circuit training session this week. The circuit training session was fine, but I will always remember the runs from the first week in August, 2006.

Yesterday I ran three miles faster than I ever have before and finally broke the 30 minute barrier. I know that 98% of runners could run 3 miles in less than 30 minutes, but it was difficult for me so back off!

This morning, I ran six miles in less than an hour for the first time. This was major for me since I was on the treadmill and had to maintain a faster pace than I would were I on the road. Again, most people who have been running for as long as I have wouldn't have an issue running six miles in less than an hour, but in my case, this is the beginning of a payoff from a long and determined effort to improve my default pace to less than 9 minutes a mile (they don't call me the Fat Runner for nothing, folks).

A couple of runs like this back to back are enough to keep me motivated for weeks to come. I am sure that this weekend's LSD will be the worst ever, but for now, two otherwise unremarkable runs have shown me what I might do in the future.

Why is there some chick sobbing in the bathroom?

Everyone remembers the good times in their lives. The walks on the beach with your special someone, the ridiculously good dessert that was after the ridiculously good meal, the wonderful weekend spent without any stresses in the company of good friends and good times. I had one of those weekends last week when the Fatter Non-Runner was out in The Bay with Wife of Fatter Non-Runner and Wife of Fatter Non-Runner. We ate. We drank. There was no running. I probably gained 50 pounds. Then they left, and I had to run again. This was where my own personal suicide watch began.

First of all, I ill-advisedly switched models of shoes to a shoe that, unbeknownst to me, was much narrower than the same size as my old model with a smaller toe-box, so every step feels like Satan's vice grip getting ever tighter on my delicate and sensitive feet. More on this in the coming weeks as I am too cheap to buy new shoes.

Wednesday was my first day back after Debauch Weekend '06. The first mile was fine...then the coughing fit started (I forgot to mention I smoked about 14 packs of cigarettes over the course of the weekend). I ran through that and after it was done, I felt a lot lighter since my left lung was now no longer a part of me so much as it was a piece of litter on the side of the trail. I followed this show of athletic excellence with a session of circuit training. After all was said and done, I cried in the shower, listening to the echo of my cholesterol- and nicotine-laden tears bounce off the porcelain tile. This was very embarrassing for me; not because I was a grown man crying in the shower like a depressed middle-age housewife...it was more because I was using the shower facilities at my office and the other men in the locker room where wondering how a very high-pitched and sobbing girl got into a men's shower stall. I had to wait for everyone to leave before I could get out and dry off.

Thursday wasn't much better. I should have kept it simple, but I decided I would do my normal Thursday run of six miles. The main problem was that the air was so humid, you could practically drink it and I simply couldn't do a thing with my hair. This run was so bad, I think that I am going to stop writing about it right now. Please, don't even ask. It never happened.

So, tomorrow is another day. It'll be my first long run (I define "long" as any run up to and over 10 miles) in over two weeks. I intend to rain fire upon the Mountain Bay Trail, and don't think that won't happen.

I'm going to put a sidebar with certain fitness stats that are important to me (at least the things I track). I'm going to post some updated Fat Run pictures in the next few weeks so the weights can be put into context...I don't look that fat if I am wearing a shirt!

Everyone keep Running Fat!

My Calphalon pans are harder to take care of than a baby.

The current state if things around The Fat Lair is this: pregnancy. That's right...in case you missed it, Mrs. Fat Runner is currently carrying two (count 'em, 2) Future Fat Runners. We are coming down to the wire with only about 10 weeks to go and honestly, I don't see what the big deal about being pregnant is.

Here is how it all breaks down. Mrs. Fat Runner has back pain, is hormonal, and has to pee all the time. Every five minutes she's running (well, walking) (well, really it's more of a shuffle) towards to bathroom. Compare this to every drug addict you have ever seen on television. They shuffle around complaining of aches and pains because they haven't had a fix in a while, then they move slowly and quietly towards the bathroom, hoping no one notices, pulling their works from some hidden pocket so they can get straight far away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. Sound familiar? Just like a pregnant woman, you say? I seem to remember that Jessie Spano acted EXACTLY the same way when she was all hopped up on goofballs. Zack had to come in and get all intervention on her. Sometimes, we all need a little more Zack Morris.

Once the baby arrives, I am sure to get an earful from Mrs. Fat Runner about how hard it is to take care of children. What.......ev. Last year, Mrs. Fat Runner and I purchased a new set of Calphalon Anodized cookware complete with a saucier, omelet pans (both 8" and 10"), several other pans and pots, and one of those weird things with the straight walls on it that defies all other description. I can't imagine that the care instructions for a baby (should such a thing exist) would be more detailed and complicated than those for this set of cookware. Don't wash in the dishwasher, don't use cooking spray, use non-metallic utensils, don't stack on one another, breast feed if possible, keep away from electrical outlets, don't handle with a wet cloth as pans will retain heat, pre-heat before cooking, don't shake, let cool before cleaning, taking pans out of box voids warranty, etc. Are you going to sit there and tell me that some kid is is going to have all those restrictions? Please.

Moreover, I have been a child and I found that I really enjoyed two things: television and candy. Were I given those two things (separately or together) I was happy, quiet, and generally content with the universe. Now I am told that there are some parents out there who will not give their child(ren) either of those two things. So are children really that hard to take care of? NO! People are just making it hard by not allowing the child those precious few trifles that will allow them to stay placid and open to suggestion.

But I will say that I am looking forward to having some company on my Fat Runs for the next 18 years, as long as the kids have a note from Mr. Belding.

She's not attractive at all (or, why women's sports suck)

One of the things that Mrs. Fat Runner and I like to do this time of year is watch the end-to-end coverage of Wimbledon (either on the Deuce or on NBC). During the course of the past few weeks, there has been some grumbling from the bra-wearers that there isn't parity in the amount of winnings that the female champion receives compared to the men's champion. The difference is minimal (on the order of 50K) but the ladies still complain. It's not hard to figure out why women don't make as much money as men in professional sports (or why women's professional sports is not taken seriously), but in case you've been under some sort of Title IX-less rock for the past 30 years, here's a break-down.

First of all, women's sports are generally not that interesting. When he and I were talking about this just the other day, Fatter Runner had this to say, "Back in the days of my extreme sexism (wait, that was last Tuesday), I posited that you could remove the word 'women's' from all descriptions of such sports (e.g. women's basketball, women's track, women's rugby) and replace it with 'underwater' and it would then be more descriptive of what you were watching: I tend to think that women playing any game tends to look like men playing the same game under 20 feet of water." I couldn't agree more. I don't think there has been a more astute observation about women's sports in the last twenty years.

NO ONE CARES. Not even women. Last weekend, Mrs Fat Runner and I were watching the U.S. Women's Open golf tournament. Regardless of the fact that you had a playoff for only the (some small number) in (some number) of years, it was really boring. I turned to Mrs. Fat Runner and asked her if she had the choice between watching women play golf and watching men play (such as the greats like Phil, Tiger, Ernie, Sergio, etc), she said the men. Without hesitation. Look at the professional soccer league that went bust a few years ago. If as many young women were actually empowered as we were led to believe, I think that league would still be around. The WNBA is a joke that is kept around by the good graces of it's owners who are losing money faster than an idiot with long arms and shallow pockets.

MEN WANT TO WATCH HOT CHICKS! WOMEN WANT TO WATCH HOT CHICKS! THERE AREN'T A LOT OF HOT CHICKS IN PROFESSIONAL SPORTS! This is a known fact. Both men and women alike can appreciate the beauty of a finely toned and attractive female athlete. But, outside of a few sports (tennis, beach volleyball, curling (it's true), foxy boxing, and surfing) there just aren't that many good looking women to attract a crowd. How many women out there with husbands/boyfriends have heard them talk about Maria Sharapova? How many have talked about Cheryl Swoops (or any WNBA player)? 'Nuff said.

WOMEN ARE REALLY GIRLY. Seriously, in what other discipline do women hug and cry after everything? I work in an office, and I very rarely see this sort of thing. Is this the result of the "empowerment" that sports are supposed to give? The incessant cheering, the crying, the manicures, etc all lead to one thing...vomiting. More from Fatter Runner: "I have to say what really irks me about women's softball, and I'll do it in an indirect way by demonstrating what Men do NOT do in baseball - after an out, the entire team does not run in to discuss their hair and nails on the mound." That guy is just on fire today.

What does this have to do with running? Everything. Distance running is one of the few sports I can think of where women are generally as accepted as men. There are still the empowerment girly nutsy neurotic women out there, but for the most part, women are on par with men. The truth is, most women could beat most men in an all out footrace.

I await the firestorm. Run Fat!

I'm more concerned about your gravy count.

It seems that women continue their rampage toward insanity. Everywhere I look, there is a new book, movie, television show, television network, radio program, pamphlet, motivational poster, t-shirt, scrunchie, lanyard, or dog collar devoted to informing women of their self worth. It seems to me that if you are the type of person that gets esteem from these types of things, Darwin has selected you already. (This last comment inspired by a wonderful poster that everyone should have a look at). But I digress...

During my brief hiatus from blog composition I have been running, albeit not continuously. The one thing that fell by the wayside was the marathon that I was training for. I decided to not run in that race this year. Between job-related travel and other such trivialities, training became much too difficult. But fear not, constant reader! Annum 2007 will bring the return of the Fat Marathon. Since I am turning 30 this December, I have decided that I will run 3 marathons over the course of 2007; one for each decade the people of Earth have been lucky enough to have me around.

Life in Wisconsin goes on. A WI summer is the perfect environment for a distance runner. Cool in the mornings followed by oppressive heat and vomiting in the afternoon. Since I last updated my reader, I have taken a new job local to the Green Bay area and am now free to explore all the activi...the activity that The Bay affords me...eating. It's pretty much the official state sport 'round these parts. So, in response to my dedicated and steadfast participation in the WI State Sport, I am now focused on weight loss and muscle toning. I obsess over what I eat, when I eat it, and how much of it I am eating (yes, just like a neurotic woman. I think if I participate in this a few more weeks my penis will finally fall off and I can join their coven).

There is one noteworthy event on the horizon. The Fat Runner and Wife of Fat Runner will be hosting their first out of town guests next week since moving to The Bay. My reader might remember that a few months ago (okay, it was last November), I regaled my reader with a detailed account of my weekend with the Fatter Runner. Unfortunately, this time the Fatter Runner will not be visiting. Rather, my other very good friend from Virginia will be joining us...wait for it...The Fatter Non-Runner.

Fatter Non-Runner and his lovely wife Bride of Fatter Non-Runner and his lovely daughter Child of Fatter Non-Runner will be here next weekend. As I said, these fine people currently live in the urban sprawl that is the I-95 Corridor and will undoubtedly be impressed with the bucolic splendor, lack of usable teeth, and denim shorts that The Bay has to offer. Here's how the weekend will go.

FR: Good to see you. Welcome to The Bay!
FNR: Thanks. Wow. Is this the "heartland" that I have heard about on television?
FR: We don't have television out here.
FNR: You do have indoor plumbing, don't you?
FR: ...
FNR: No matter. We can always dig a hole to crap in.
FR: Way ahead of you. In fact, you might want to take a few steps to the left...and change your socks.
FNR: Look, a cow!
FR: That's a not a cow, that's a tractor. Just because it's in a field doesn't make it a cow.
FNR: Is that a cow?
FR: No, that's an outhouse. We'll get one of those once the home equity loan gets approved.
FNR: Where are all the cows?
FR: Come with me to the dining room....

I delight in explaining to the uninitiated (among which I once was) how life works out here in the middle of nowhere. If I live here just five more years, I can officially wear overalls without seeming like a poseur.

I suppose that I should talk about running just a little bit. I have researched and found that the magic number for belly-fat loss is 20+ miles a week. To that end, I have been running 30+ miles a week for the past three weeks or so. We'll see how it goes. I have also started a new circuit training program (man, my penis really is useless at this point) in order to tone up We'll also see how that goes.

In the interim, be sure to Run Fat!

Good Lord...this site is still up?

Yes, I am still alive. I am currently living the sweet life in Wisconsin's beautiful Fox River Valley. This is just a quickie update to show that the blog is still active, but there will be more in the very near future.

RUN FAT!