Let's Start Smiling At The Errors Of Our Past

Let's set the tone for tonight's spectacle.

Please grab your choice of drink.

 

When I love, I love deeply, though it is not often. 10 years ago, before muta est sprouted from spit on the ground, I said to myself that I will never betray myself again. Without a map in hand, I drew out circles and lines with a stick in hand. A map to what though? That is a question I have carried on my back since this journey of aimless quiet wondering began. At the time I never really understood why I said that to myself. As I accumulate years of life, I believe now that it was a feeling of needing to nurture myself and be who I needed to be. I told myself that if I erased everything I ever believed and jot everything down from memory, I'd find who I am. Whether it was through words or pictures, I knew that the answer was cast away by spells in there. I hold that promise like a devotional scapular. In the toughest moments of my life, I've never been alone because of self-efficacy. 

When I found running, I took an interest in the connection movement had on my way of thinking. Spending time alone running felt much more constructive than spending time alone in my study. When I looked down at the sweat on my forearms after my runs I remember thinking every blue feeling has left me for a brief moment. It is possible not to feel angst consume every single moment of my life. If melancholy is a binary variable, then I shall find every possible function for the value to equal 0. 

'

This weekend I showed up to my first battle with the marathon. I raised myself as a runner under the Frankenstein methods. A mad scientific mariachi of sorts. With songs of pain and love in my heart and machine learning algorithms in my head, I walked up to the starting line with full-confidence in my ability to strike this motherfucker on my first lunge. In González-Iñárritu's Amores Perros, there is a scene where Susana tells Octavio at his brother's funeral, "Si quieres hacer reír a Dios, cuéntale tus planes." Which translates to, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him/her your plans."  

My marathon debut turned out to be a diagram of pulled guts. All signs seemed to indicate me coming in around 2:53:00. Of all days, my debut turned out to have quite a massive variance. I reached the finish line completely decayed in 4:00:53. A historic version of me listening to Nirvana would've been devastated at this experience. But I'm in a different realm of wizardry now. For several years, I woke up thinking how I was going to make a strong impression in the marathon, and I laid my head down at night content with the day's training. Everything I cultivated behind my eyes turned out to be a sharp contrast in the real world. And that's okay. I have embraced imperfection through my training. Specifically, through art. We won't get too deep into the details of God, but if there is one laughing at me, I laugh with you. I trust that I will arise from these spilled guts. If I have to paint smiley faces on them with my black sharpie, I shall. 

My love for running has not changed a bit. I tripped on the very first step due to circumstances out of my control. I will use my imagination to see through this mystery. I will never delude myself. Never. 

Perseverance is a lunatic trait, 

Erik

I'm Wondering What Made Malcolm Smile

Hear ye, hear ye!

Today is a celebration of turning 28 in chronological years. This annual observance declares me to run and feel all of what today is about. A love for myself and this sport that gives me infinite safety to explore myself each day. 

A few days ago I PRed at the Hot Chocolate 15k under viscous weather conditions. 20 mph headwinds with 30 mph wind gusts circulating madness for 57 minutes and 24 seconds. For the first time since spring of 2014, I exhaled calmly from start to finish. I no longer lament. As a data enthusiast, I consider all directly observed and latent variables in every run. All sources seem to indicate an S-Class forecast. Now is the time to embrace all of what seemed insignificant. 

Themes over the years:

2019: Develop a healthy relationship with running again

2020: Examine strengths and weaknesses

2021: Explore and solidify your relationship with running by bringing your non-running self into training

2022: ?

Fellow lurkers, I cannot mold a summary of what hasn't happened yet. I therefore leave this year blank and let time and memories write it out for me when due. I trust that I will find the urge to pick up a pen or caress this new beautiful mechanical keyboard of mine when the meeting place is set. 

I shall die under the winter sun with love, 

Erik

Y Regresa El Rico Movimiento

I braved one of the most loaded training of my life last week. 71 miles according to my tally. I've not seen any bored demons peeking out from the horizon. I believe they must be scared of the cumbias I play for them every morning. Or I must have these currents well predicted? Who knows? All I know is that I'm up on my two feet right mapping out time to the guacharaca sounds of La Furia Urbana. 

The course is still strong for my seppuku at the end of winter. I'm enjoying the sea of self in front of me. Putting down the sails when necessary, but never afraid to conversate with Huracan. I've always believed in my ability to navigate wavering waters because I too waver with the funk. My hands aren't wet this time. I calmly await for you in my cabin, mujer marathon. 

Wepa wepa,

Erik 

Soon 28

Winter '22

En La Disco Va A Empezar El Escarseo

I've been spinning a lot of reggaeton tunes since the summer and I guess on this hour of writing, I will attempt to mirror the past with the present. 

Reggaeton has been a source of navigation for me to pick up on things of my younger self because lately I feel fucking lost. This feeling of directionless is nothing I'm unfamiliar with. Constant experimentation with my life sometimes leaves me with more unanswered questions than what I began two-stepping to. This feeling of opening a door only to find 7 more doors behind is humorous to me. I smile and finger-paint over all 7 when I can. 

I have become an archeologist digging through my childhood memories, and using the hypnotizing boom-daboom-da, boom-daboom-da, boom-daboom-da to concentrate. I'm deconstructing life's complexities into simple 4/4 sections. I'm trying to see my perceived universe from another perception of myself. What do all these memories mean to me? I find myself trying to study all the forking paths I have taken like an investigator looking for a fugitive who will never be found. Perhaps it's time to step away from that time.

Whoever you are, 

Valentino

I Was Dancing When I Was Twelve

 I would like to formally address that today was a beautiful day. 3 months of stretching in humidity and getting killed 5 minutes have come to a close end. I've been suffocating, but today was a breath exhaled. Today I woke up before the sun like nothing. No weight physically or mentally was holding me down. My warm-up felt extra good. My workout went freaky-deeky. It was perfect. For about 4 months now, I have made W. Leather Dr. my go-to guillotine because the tracks closest to me are closed for construction. My apologies if I have ever slowed you down on your way to work. I have to find the best alternatives and the upper-class have the smoothest roads.

I am embracing these near death experiences. I am water that is slowly starting to boil. I am drinking out of a metal straw from Lethe. 

This morning I breathed,

E.T. El Pinche Mudo

Hey! Dale Tranqui, Tu Hora Llega Por Que Lllega

I have written very little on here, and even less on paper. I am not sure why it has been so difficult for me to pick up a pen or type on a keyboard. The future and past don't trigger me the way they used to, and so the urge to reflect has been non-existent. This apathetic feeling has been living in me since last summer, and up until a month or so ago I started to revolt against it through my work with running. The last few months have been shit, but I've been trying my best to get through them while remaining as healthy as possible. As I type this, I'm beginning to think that perhaps I stopped writing because I'm scared to confront the shit I went through at full volume. Hm.

Fortunately, the last few months have been dedicated to realizing when something scares me, and going head on with it. Preliminary findings suggest a courageous future.

I continue on my quest to be free. To realize who I am. Not so much where I belong in this world, but to see who the fuck I am without family, friends, career, running, writing, painting. Nothing! I want to know who I am if the world around me was free space. 

Key days this week:

Thursday 9/15/21:

5 x (600 + 500 + 400 + 300 + 200) w/ 1:30 rest.

Saturday 9/18/21: 

6.6 mile tempo @ 6:00/mi o hasta morrir. 

 Same theme, different post,

 ET

Too Early, Maybe Later You Can Show Me Things

As I begin to write, the traffic in my head spreads out so thin that it now becomes difficult for me to describe every detail that is so easily observed when I am doing measly tasks like washing dishes or scrubbing my toilet. I'm not sure why this happens. Perhaps it is a fear of the abstract becoming representational. Reflection is an important facet of all my life enjoyments like running, friendships, music, data, art, and writing. When I am unable to make something out of these reflections, it is difficult for me to be at peace with myself knowing a particular flower bloomed violently quick, and I missed it. The thought of missing or forgetting something has turned me into an information hoarder. 

I am 15 minutes away from having to make a few burritos so my time here will end soon. Maybe I'll bring my notebook near the counter for chorizo notetaking. 

When I grow up from all this insignificant data I've collected, I trust that it will help me be me in this particular time I am living in. In the end, I just want to make sure that on the last run I do, I will have cultivated a memory of myself so thick and kaleidoscopic that it sits independently in the archives.

Taking a million first steps, 

Erik

El Diablo Anda Suelto

 Lurkers, I've waited patiently for this particular feeling for 6 years, and today I find myself face-to-face with half enjoyment. When I look at the past, I see not the best of what once was, but a flower with mistakes for petals. I now see the future from that memory's perspective. I now bloom out of beggarly soil. 

I've been racing against the clock for 1 year now, and today I beat it half-full. Roughly 1188 days left to listen to the world, to shout with excitement, to take risks, to show courage, to have fun. Tag a long if you see me at the lake. No matter what standard the Olympic Trials want, we'll brush our clothes with a smile. 

A nobody who daydreams, 

E

I Always Wanted To Eat Glass With You Again

Peace from a point in the day where I can hear my own breath.

Muta est (mute one) began as a form of running silently throughout these capitalistic days in order to absorb all the interactions of myself with this "reality" capitalism presents in order to revolt. Historically, I've never been one to participate in the external cinematic diatribes presented in everyday life. The pseudocommunication forms this society unwillingly creates hasn't really convinced me to partake, but I desperately wish to bring change to these forms of culture and politics, and attempt to adjust how capitalism mediates apathy and revolution, at least for me.

I propose an unorganized running guild that wishes to not be malnourished consciously. To listen, but to conduct our own experiments. To practice alleviating ourselves from our own systematic way of thinking, and embrace the dérive.

Everyday I run, I am closer to bringing myself to life, and to participate in it equally with my personality.

Readers, there are days when it doesn't feel like I've thought about anything productive. So I ask myself this afternoon, who's in charge?



Take us to your leader,

I, who found time to write.

Let's Sail Away Like A Photograph

Greetings from a physical space under the clouds, 

The following stimulus was presented symmetrically over the span of 14 days:

I currently find myself exiting the last day, Sunday the 24th, scratching my chin in hesitancy. The question for me is how do I continue to grow asymmetrically? Adaptation seems to have put a bind on my physiology this past year, and one must wish to break away from one's triple-knot. 

Today I took a deep breathe of this humid air, and second guessed my capabilities to run longer. Perhaps tomorrow I will breathe more smoothly. 

She Said, "I'll Never Let Them Hurt You"

To write to keep this brain at least dimly lit tonight - that is the mission for such a quiet night. Tonight I hear pieces of metallic clanking, only, they are not outside my apartment patio, and not sounds of anything external, they are little pops of sounds coming from the shifting parts of a staunch brain.

In efforts to tighten the lax construction arrangements of my life, I've put together a tentative syllabus for two new experiences that'll hopefully remain unaffected by the 'rona pandemic.  1) The DRC Half and 2) 8-mile Turkey Trot.

 Rest of 2020

With every new model, new themes must be webbed in the draft! For the upcoming months, memory and discipline will be spun around with the rhythms of my crooked hips. In order of appearance, it seems to me that involuntary memory will be inescapable of the many sensory experiences such as old routes, old paces, and old funky smells. I won't be able to help but amble in awe the showcases I am now allowed to see thanks to chronological age. Perhaps the moment I raise my finger to tap the glass of remembrance, I'll be able to quickly remember to diverge my attention back to the present. But I am human, and architecture of personal blunder can be quite intriguing.

Secondly, discipline here will be looked at a magnification closer in the frame of disciplinary logic. Such framework for how a running plan should be is not to be reinforced, but to be repeatedly challenged, criticized, and problematized. While I wish to write more on the subject, dinner time is approaching so I will try to summarize. What I have above is a tentative syllabus to guide me to the DRC Half, and the 8-mile TT split into 3 periods: Fundamental, Special, and Specific. However, as I look at this, we have here an example of disciplinary logic. I should not be following this stiffly, but problematizing the formation of this knowledge I have gathered over the years, and seeing how it has become an instrument of control that has the potential to normalize my performance (for example, underperform). I must try to disrupt the regime as much as I can according to how my body feels, and not prescribed workouts, periods, times, benchmarks. I wish to write more, but the tummy seems to be prowling.

This time I will be more engaged and connected. This time I'll ask more open-ended question. This time I will challenge those who shape me.

To never limit myself,

E

The Mars Volta - Frances The Mute

Y Aquí Andamos Apenitas

It's been about 19 days since I've been circling like a ghost from my room to the kitchen grabbing iced animal cookies. Perhaps being under these artificial lights dehydrates me into hunger.

As the coronavirus floats to the summit of my novel fears, I thought about a few things today on my neighborhood run: 

2 mile easy + 13 x ~300m hill repeats + 1.5 mile easy (no humans besides E)

This shake on normalcy has brought about an uneasy feeling to my often self-criticized normalized training. The need to control every portion of my regimen has created a too high, too thick dam of stiffness that slowly curates a precise way of thinking. At times, I can't help but remember the limitless that comes with naivete.

Normalcy should be critiqued as much as possible, and when imprecise distributions are seen, we should embrace them. Yet, a pang of embarrassment weakens me when I note the stresses and anxieties I experience when I am unable to adapt to such natural disruptions in my regimen. But what can you expect, I am a product of this routine-controlling culture, and it takes patience to think and stray away. As a participant of life, I must keep both eyes peeled of such hegemony in order to jig when we are taught to run.

Somehow I still don't feel like I adequately explained myself, but perhaps it's because I've been on this screen for too long. As the note-taking become denser, I hope to share polished conclusions I've come up with.

The week has been recorded as follows:

With sanitized hands,

me

I Would Hurt A Fly

Sometimes I am tired of feeling blind.

This theme has continuously flashed onto me sporadically throughout my life. And it confuses me in the following form: how long has it been since I've been unable to see my memories? This state of fraught for my memory, if you can imagine, is like writing on a page and finding it again, only to see that it has been scribbled over. I am awake when I run. I recall several memories and can feel happiness above tiredness. But this deplorable reality in which many of us live in creates a vision field of wearisome, and I suppose that is why when I don't run, my memories dilute. The sad thing is that I reinforce this blindness by participating in stringent activities. At this moment, it's difficult for me to contend in a game of diatribes with my own fears and anxieties to be free from being a multiple of this culture.

It is inevitable. And I suppose my current condition could be of some angled help. Only by participating in this culture could I ever understand how I, and others, reinforce the status quo.

Today I ran 14 miles in 1:44:30 with a crummy right ankle.


With temporary admittance,

me

Maybe You'll Be President, But Know Right From Wrong

Today I finally feel something different. Proud! Clear! Fulfilled! Attentive! I could let out a sigh of relief and fall backwards in peace.

For the past couple of weeks my brain had been feeling inactive. I've sat inside a bell jar, watching the water from the sink faucet wash away the beans from my dishes, but nothing beyond that. Watching city drivers no longer afraid to die spread irritation to others, but nothing beyond that. Watching the grass wave as I stretch before a run, but nothing beyond that. Mental inactivity tried to subdue me, but I could never let it.

Today, the sights and feelings are vivid. Long runs have turned into a quest to find the present.

We Invented The Cure

Finding direction within personal diatribes and uncertainties is a conundrum just as we ask ourselves why entitlement can't be snipped out of brains.

Recognizing myself, my sunny and self-slumping habits, is what I've been trying to attend to on these blooming '20 days. We're taking field notes all the way up until February or March, and making decisions on what is worth nourishing and what must be put on hold (for now).

The reason for aiming for the top is to infiltrate it. I'd like to see it, but I don't wish to snap a blink alone. This field of cognitive flowers is too big and erratic for one person to understand it all. If I could, at the bare minimum, do my part to cultivate this invisible ejido with other timid hooligans, and make something special, something that is fueled by sidereal causes, something that one feels insane for, a space of some sort to think about the world, I think a sense of contentment will balance the angst. There must be other reasons for being at the top besides blabbering about personal achievements, and quoting people at the bottom of yourself.

Towards more thoughts.

Memory Lover, You Are Mine

Remind me again, can I exemplify the pieces of my mind that flash through me? Note-taking on myself allows me to form these pieces that I watch behind my eyes out of syntax. To daydream, remember, and reflect on these bits of stimulation for me is pleasantly screened through running. Moving through the lake, the Katy Trail, and Germany Park, allow my consciousness to stream through unfiltered vessels. I feel replays of moments, words, images that haven't happened yet spiral and bounce in me, but I cannot blink fast enough to wake up and encode it.

It is why etching visions into this world requires one not to ruminate into a slumber. Being outside frees me of rumination and kadupul flowers. The time I set aside last year to create was insufficient.  The current day is an excellent time to prepare for cultivation of these ideatums. I must do something real as I try to understand myself and others.

¿O Es Que Todos Tienen Más Valor?

To myself, I say: 

This is the guilt portrayed in bad posture,

This is the head,

Cultivated from a bleak pampas,

These are the legs prone to accidents, 

So much life and never with my brain's default mode network.
Unsure if repeating winter moods result in sadder moraines.

To wherever I run.

Time has run out for me. My toes are reaching the half marathon starting line faster than I am able to find myself. My negative form is still here, but I can only assume it is a product of my own loopy distractions. How is it possible to be full on screamo and timid?

Put A Muzzle On The Lamb

I'm writing from a quiet place tonight where my crummy feet do not ping my brain.

Being part of this humdrum society, it is only natural that those sentiments generalize down to me, the individual, and I, in return, am a feedback loop for it. The point for me in running is to revolt against those very generalizations that try to cage away my differences in curiosities and application. Only with the sweatiest of armpits will I be able to nourish my idealism, and build a replica of these myriad thoughts that flash through my attention span. Still, as empowered as I have been feeling thanks to those around me, this software bug in me continuously allows the present to slip by me. The magnitude of it does not impose grand danger anymore as I have been debugging it for awhile now, but it is evaluated weekly through my benchmarks.

Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday are the days in my training that have the most identical stimulus of a race. The pressure, the angst, the focus, and the mental drive can be related to the specified bug from above. Much like, checking mile/pace, I have made a conscious effort to snap out of my daydreams, and focus on the airflow in my nostrils in order to shake off the fear.

Gloria Is Silent

At this very hour of my Friday evening, I feel empowered. It has been a long road of feeling weak, and unable to concentrate during my runs. They do not pass by me the way the concrete cracks do. I feel my legs touching the ground more, I hear my breaths fleeting my body, disembodied into every single spot I pass. At this very moment I am content with running. Around February, there has been a feeling in me, that this year, 2019, will be the year I either get close to the threshold I left in my past, or surpass it. Impulsiveness in my running is no longer as intense in the myriad of my being. My patience has been more nourished  

Tonight, the paranormal activity in my head is low. Those ghosts at every corner of mind no longer put me at an anxious halt.

This Time Won't You Please

On Thursday (08/08), I ascended Interstate 40 from Dallas to dispel my distractions throughout south Utah. Over the past few weeks, it became more noticeable the way my attention trickled down towards time's abyss. This is something that I urgently wish to put to a halt. It is difficult to improve my mental abilities when I am in a state of attention catatonia. In running, the stimuli that pass through my eyes is as stale as the trees that I pass by. These trees keep me awake, but I wish to design and implement a new form of preparation in this sport: one that includes psychological variable tracking and advancement. The current puzzle for me is finding the right balance between daydreaming and taking action. 

While my seclusion in Utah was fleeting, it was enough to empower my focus again. Training resumed last week, and the stiffness from sitting on my rear went away swiftly with the electric boogaloo. 

The Dallas Half is about 17  weeks away. 

Educar para liberar! I run to revolt. 

I've Been Waiting For

White Rock Lake Summer 2019

I find myself standing once again at a familiar point in my running timeline at what seems to be a recurring apathy at an almost interval based routine. At the moment, I have a small measurement in my training data that I am hoping to use as a form of calculation and study, but have yet to set off on that exploration for a couple of reasons that not all will be detailed here.

This little slime of motivation of mine has been inanimate. I have watched it slip through one hand down to the other sluggishly, and unfortunately, that is all I have done: Watched it. I am a believer of observance, but at what point do I take action? What's happening, am I to wait around for nature to fluctuate my brain just enough for me to do something, or am I the one that creates the determinant thoughts that tick each muscle fiber that begs for me to take action. 

I have managed to steer my physical training about 95% accordingly, but I find my mental state (as described above) unable to sizzle. There are days when I forget what I am running for. I forget my race goals, my training plans, my affirmations, my creativity, and I end up yawning in a middle of a run.  This rumination seems to loop too often in these writings. It will be a conscious effort of mine to make myself unreachable by these pastoral grips over and over again. And to write more on my atheoretical running tactics. To write more on the good days, and eliminate the negative autobiographical memory biases. To merge my favorite interests into running and create a new form of art that will ease all who read, and participate for the distance. Commence these rhythmic motives. 

Confusion Will Be My Epitaph

My initial feeling to this recent descent that has grabbed me by my slim ankles is self-condemnation. Is the reason I have slipped my fault? Could there have been something on my part to prevent this? At times, I feel guilt that an aggressive gazelle isn't wild enough to break from my own mental fetters. If you ever see me run past you, I won't seem apparent that I am a being with vigorous eyes. 

On Tuesday afternoon, under the intersection of Mockingbird and W. Lawther Dr, I found myself yawning in a middle of a fartlek workout, and if a tad of honesty can propel from my defensive reflexes, there wasn't much motivation to put effort on the run. A slug had taken host of my body and brain, and I couldn't find the internal diatribe to loosen and unlatch it from me. 

There has been a mirror in front of me during my runs. No matter if I look to the side, straight ahead, or down on the floor, it is always there in my vision field, reflecting back. The case may be that that's why I have been feeling so blue, but who knows. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. In a couple of minutes after I put of the dishes, I will close my eyes for the day, and find peace for a few hours. When I awaken, I will be conscious and find a deep breathe in me, and aim for narrowest path within the clamor. It'll cost a lot to bring me down, so, whatever you are holding me by my slim ankles, I ask that you reconsider where you aim the whetted blade. 

And I Cannot Remember When I Was This Messed Up

If I can find my identity with these legs, may my brain collect its seeking peace.

This summer has slowly began to sink itself in me, and has provided me with scads of tasty memories that I am sure I will have to excavate years from now. My self-collected data shows positive trends, even in this depressing heat, and I can only hope that this trajectory remains constant.

I will make an appearance at a few races in the foreseeable future to unearth my racing apparatus to Dallas. There is a recurring presence in my stomach that reassures me that this is the year I make a comeback. This time around, there is a smarter, more balanced, delicate approach to training on my part.

Some Kind Of Night Into Your Darkness

Inspiration for me comes and goes at unpredictable intervals. Whether I am able to latch on to it, and lift off to new heights without falling off from it is also something I repeatedly worry about. This year however, my inspiration has been consistently glowing within me, and it makes me happy because there are various times when I wonder if I am too apathetic to make something of myself in not just running, but in my own life. I ask myself if I am getting better and realizing how to fight and deal with this fuzzy mist that plagues my day-to-day consciousness? I'd like to think so. As the days go by in 2019, I am proud that over this blurry timeline (Jan. 1st to now) I have felt my cognition shifting, molding, and locking itself together into a stronger buffer from all this shit I've been dealing with for years. I am not what you suppose, but far different. 

This year will be the year that I make a difference again in myself through running. In a few moments, I'll be registering for the Dallas Half which is the race I have been slowly building a holistic syllabus to, and finally fix my eager eyes onto.

 

16 x 400m by Cairo Valentino

Monday: 50 Minutes Easy by Cairo Valentino

Thoughts of Wings Open Wide

These two crummy legs on which I sail through this city have been through a lot in such a short amount of time, and it is only evident that it has been the reason for my accidents. My practice has, for the most part, never been short-sighted. Failure, after failure, after failure, I have calculated every mile and pace as I re-enter the battle arena, and never do I intend to stop gathering the data that I, myself, create.

It has been about 4 weeks now since my last good voyage through the Katy. In my most latest assessment, my right knee hasn't been looking to return to normality, and that very phantasmic thought kills me. I am missing one of my favorite smackdowns of the year: Dash Down Greenville. It's an unfortunate event for me, but I guess this is an attack on my memory. Never should have I overestimated my abilities to take on some of the workouts that I gave myself. Those bits of information throughout my run should have never been ignored.

Today I swirled around the Katy trail for 2 measly miles. I'll take whatever though. My leg was in pain for the last half of the run, and doesn't seem to be getting much better.

Yeah, Love, Hate, Love

Fuck me. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...10 days since my last run.

Last Tuesday, after a failed attempt to run at Germany Park, I went out to the dreadful Katy trail to do a 4 mile tempo. Perhaps I'm a bit harsh on Katy nowadays, but gah dangit, do I get tired of going up and down that trail sometimes. Then again, it's my own fault, because I don't go out towards the extra mile or so after the cross walk at the 2 mile mark. I just absolutely hate crossing that street because I never know if impatient-impulsive drivers are actually going to stop for pedestrians, but whatever. Everything was good during my usual 2 mile warm-up, no pain, nada, nothing. A bit fatigue, but that was felt all throughout for the past several runs. Around 1.7ish miles of the actual speed workout, that's when I actually started to feel a pain on my knee/IT band slowly start spreading like a frantic zombie virus. The first thing I thought to myself was no way! Not right now! I'm way too fucking far from home to walk from here.

But I did.

I walked all 2 miles back. Dreadful. 

So here I am, hoping that tomorrow's day looks brighter for my damn leg. I should have NEVER done that stupid hill workout. In all honesty, I knew it was a bad idea, but there I was going up and down that hill like a trained mouse. 

These days, empty of runs, has really brought me down from that freedom trip I've been riding. I just hope I can return when the good weather comes around. Running in the cold sucks. My days haven't been completely empty though. Oh no. I would never let that happen, but get this: I read Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human. This book, man, I have never felt my chest felt so full of blueness, but empty at the same time. This book might go in my forbidden shelf. In recent times, I've had to work on the realization of being injured, and the hole this book has shot through me. Painting and studying statistics/R have helped, but there's nothing else I'd rather be doing than running during my daily free time. Running is the treatment for this damn numbness. 

And After All Is Said and Done

In between the miles
Se me quita la perra enfermedad.
My time is running by me.
Watching me gasp and gasp and gasp and gasp and gasp.
Y nunca mas sufrire.

It's been so long since I've ran 35+ miles- I can almost taste my past again. There hasn't been a day since I've put on these running shoes that I don't feel whole. Except for today, but today flipped on me in a matter of minutes. I'll run tomorrow snow or no snow.

Anyway, my long runs are getting better. I'm betting that by this year, I'll surpass my PRs.

The Couple Next To You Think You Look Strange

I stepped outside Thursday to run after about 2 months of being exiled from trails. One of the most liberating things I have done all summer. Running as liberation! This is how I am able to function progressively in times where I am close to resigning from critically thinking.

Running to me is the pipeline for a few loads of crap that exist in me: Negativity, sadness, and distraction. Seeing all of that in the form of sweat makes me relieved. Of course, I could just be a baked good from Texas because of this dang heat, but I'd like to see it differently. One of my biggest problems that I've had all summer is waking up early. I just can't seem to get up even after 8+ hours of sleep. Or to be fair it could be because I awoke on the 7th hour (groggy hour) of my sleep cycle. Or perhaps because I didn't have a full ignited motivation to get up as early as I currently do.

I am back for now. Aiming to be physically healthy capable of withstanding the amount of work I want to do with running so that in turn, I can use running as a catalyst for critical thinking. It seems like my best ideas about change in the world have come to me while I stomped and gasped for air in this heat. My most intense feelings to study social movements have come when I step into the lighthouse. I am not meant to exist in a still posture. I am meant to exist running in exhaustion, grinning my crooked tooth while I think.

Tomorrow I plan on running 4 miles.

Peace, peace, peace.

In A Mellow Tone

Me and my sister Rebecca exploring the aquarium. 

Summer seems to be the point of stance in which I serve under these grey skies.

It's a bit frustrating that I am sitting here in my kitchen table, actually, everyday sitting in different spots, thinking about how much it sucks that I am not running!

About a month ago I ran the Memorial Day 5k with a fierce motivation to hit it like a comet. As much as fierceness was with my that day, my body seemed to be lagging. Specifically, my misaligned hips. I knew it, to be honest. I knew that I shouldn't have ran that race, yet I did. The passion was finally there again, and there was no way I wasn't going to put it to use.

I say it sucks, but at the same time I am finding acceptance in what as happened. This ankle injury/sprain/fuck up is probably another reminder of things other than just running that I need to be working. To be exact, I really need to get a stronger body. I am doing just that thanks to the help of Abby, who gave my a pretty great circuit to run through on this time off.

Until next time-- peace forever and ever and ever and ever.

Is There A Spirit That Spits

With the S-Class Mage himself

Running is some funky stuff. 

Becoming a runner is stretching out a discipline that isn't there all of the time. These times just couldn't come down this first half of the year, but I'm determined. 21 minute 5ks haunts and spits at me! I'll be going on a 2 week hike down to my muted lab, and after that I'll strike again.

The aim of this muted hike is to learn how to think again while running. After being away from the roads, it seems I have become cultivated in fear. Yes, fear of becoming injured again. It won't leave me. When I run, it's always there, reminding me that I shouldn't go all the way. Of course, the aim is to always to train as smart as possible, but is it okay to have a monstrous attitude post-injury? I'm stuck.

Idk, this 2 week muted hike should help me pick off these fragments that dominate me. I won't let fear spread beyond what it already has.

All Veins in Highway Laps

Control. Gaining control during a race was always very difficult for me in 2013/2014, and it might still be. Yesterday at the Dash Down Greenville 5k was a good reminder of it.

I found it very difficult to push the pace even when I had a lot of fuel left in me. It is like I couldn't really think during the race, and it was all automatic. Very linear racing. Competitiveness, motivation, and determintation were sort of forgotten during the race. I'm assuming that it might be because I'm not that used to racing anymore. I finished in 21:10 which isn't as bad I thought, but I was certain I would break at least 21 min. Nonetheless, I am very proud for where I am currently at. 

I bit of what happened these past weeks:

Monday 03/05/2018

AM 3 miles, PM 2 miles

Tuesday

15 min. + 12 min tempo run.

Wednesday

5 miles.

Thursday

15 min. + 6 x 200m. 

Friday

4 miles

Saturday

9 miles in 1:14:xx

During the week of 03/11-03/17(Dash Down Greenville 5k was on the 17th) I ran all my runs very easy and only for 30 min. except for Wednesday, when I ran  a 15 min. warm-up and then 5 x 200m in 47 seconds with recovery at my own pleasure. Nothing impressive as I am just trying to wake up from this long running sleep. 

I'm hoping to stretch out the mileage these next few weeks as well as the pace. 

And The Camera Makes You Seasick

Sunday
9 miles in 1:13:10.
*Felt so motivated today. Mental imagery was positive as well., and to top it off, weather was actually great today after almost 5 days of rain. It can't rain all the time. So sore though. 

Monday: 
5 miles

Tuesday

Wednesday
Double: AM - 3 miles, PM - 3 miles.
*Wow, my legs felt like they were on clouds on the PM run! Beautiful. 

Thursday
15 min. warm-up + Uphill short sprints (Mile worth) + cool down.
*Went out to Norbuck, but couldn't complete the workout due to mud. Interesting encounter after my run though: As I was heading back to the parking lot towards my car, I saw another car parking right next to me. What the heck? I thought. The parking was enormous and vacant... why next to me?! Out come two dudes, and one of them stands in between their car and mine, and stands there. At this point, I'm still on park grounds, but I pretend, out of painful awkwardness, to jog around to see what he's doing. Turns out they were taking turns taking a wizz in open grounds, where literally, there was a porta-potty a few meters away. What the fuck? I choose to jog a bit more, and wait for them to leave so I can avoid awkward contact. I'm jogging around the baseball field, occasionally looking through my peripheral vision to see if they leave, but out come two more guys. They start sitting on the trunk of their car, and start smoking a few blunts, and take out a few beers. Dang it! How uncomfortable! I jog for a few more minutes, and finally decide to walk to my car because it's getting late. As I'm walking, I see that they have their car door wide open, blocking my door. Fuck! I think to myself. I have my headphones, and look up to the guy, and hear, under my music, Wassup foo? I forget how to talk, "Oh, uh" and point at his door. What? Close that h*e, dawg, the stoned out dude says. Cool, I mumbled. I close it and drive off.

Friday
3 mile easy jog. (8:50 pace)


Saturday
Rest with Deftones

I ran 26 miles this week! The most I have ran in years!

February 19th Hushed The Wind, The Backyard Died

Boogie's last day with us. 2001-2018

Training over the last few weeks has been decent. Not as great, but it's better than nothing.

Look at that... 

Training has been "decent". What do I mean by this and why is it decent? Why not great? Why did I automatically think it was just decent? To begin, it's simple that I am observing two "selfs". I am comparing my actual current self with my ideal self, perhaps even my past self (when I was hardcore).

A big aim in my training this year is to be more self-compassionate. However, I must be able to differentiate and be aware of the different levels of my "being" in training. (Stuff I'm thinking: being lazy, being disciplined, being motivated, when I am setting high standards, when I am setting too high standards, etc). Never realized this until a few years after I stopped training, but I became really obsessed with creating the perfect training plan. I AIMED to make my times decrease linearly; to have a perfect negative slope. My training was centered on one equation that I found to work every time I punched in my goal times, but failed to account for "contamination" from external environmental things. Man, did I get distressed about the smallest things (not full-blown distress, but just like a deep worry) BUT...

...luckily, I have figured out how to manage this maladaptive perfectionism, and just be more lax about it.

Training:

Going for about 18-20 miles this week. Really off on my schedule, but I do hope to reach it within the next few days as this weather has been bleh, bleh. Also, aiming for the loop at white rock this weekend with a few surges, so that should take care of about half the mileage.

(Week Feb 18-24)
Sunday
*No run. Was in Portland, Oregon. COLD! RAIN! SNOW! 

Monday
1 mile. 
*Came back from my trip from Portland, and had to put my 17-year-old dog, Boogie, to sleep. Very, very painful to me. This is my first time getting a punch to my chest by death. I love you Boogie forever and ever and ever and ever. 

Tuesday
Biceps and Back
*10 reps x 4 sets each.

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday
4 miles @ 8:00 pace + yoga afterwards.

Saturday
9 miles w/ surges around miles 6-8

Accident Prone

And the bib hoarding begins

It's been about 4 years since my last post.

After so many injuries, and instabilities, I am here today sore as heck after officially registering for a race after 3 years.

The goal was simple: Just finish.

I did it!

Finished in 21:48. SO satisfied, but I'm in diapers again. Diapers and learning my running tongue again. No "serious" workouts have happened this year. I'm hoping to shave off 2 minutes by April/May, and it feels possible.

Training for week 6 of 2018 (2/5-2/11):

Monday
4 miles @  8:15/mi
5 x 100m strides
*Accidentally ran more than what I should have. Around 43 minutes. Can't wait till there's more sun available in the day. 

Tuesday 
4 progressive miles.
Chest 4 x 10 reps. Biceps 4 x 10 reps

Wednesday
5 miles in 41:30 on grass
5 x 100m strides

Thursday
1 mile easy + 3 mile fartlek (1 min on/1 min off) + 1 mile easy.
Good run around the lake. Didn't feel too bad!

Friday
4 miles

Saturday
1 hr @ 8:34/mi

Sunday
30 min. easy or Yoga.

Warning

Incubus-Warning

Sunday: 9 miles 

1:03:57. This run was a struggle. My hip didn't bother me so that was good

Monday: Rest

Tuesday: 7 miles + form drills

49:15. Felt 10x better than my Sunday run.

Wednesday: 8-10 miles + core circuit

Thursday: 6 miles + 8 x 100m strides

Friday: 5 miles + drills

Saturday: 6 miles + 8 x 100m strides

Thought today: 
I have to keep trying. 

Commit

W/ Colon at the Luke's track meet

Sunday:
6 miles easy

Monday:
2 mile warm-up + 8x200m + 2 mile cool down.

Tuesday:
Luke's Track meet
Ran the 1500m in 4:44, and the 1600m leg of the DMR. Really forgot how to handle pressure during a race, but it was good building that competitive mind again.

Wednesday:
Rest

Thursday:
6 miles easy

Friday:
Rest

Saturday:
Bloomin' 4 miler
24:20 nuff said

You Got Me All Wrong

Hello,

It is now Spring 2014. I have no idea when my last post was as I am writing this fairly quickly, but a lot has been going on since.

With another spring season complete, it is now time for my epilogue. Several lessons were learned, although, I was aware of them before I reached the end. Record-keeping and time are the two slaps I got from life this spring. I lost track of my training around (wild guess) March-ish, I believe. I slowly stopped giving a fuck for some reason, but my excuse is good (or at least to society), check it: SCHOOL. Learning is my main concern right now, especially stats. I'm fascinated by it. I am not too sure if everyone is like this, but geez, I just couldn't motivate myself to log all my runs down. It seemed like I was always in a hurry. Time, I will master you.

I'm still unclear on what I want to run in the fall, but my first short-term goal is reach at least 70 miles per week by the end of the summer.

Let's get on with training.

Sunday:
12-15 miles @ 6:45-7:30 pace

Monday: 
6 miles + 8x100m strides

Tuesday: 
7 miles + drills & core circuit
Luke's Track Meet w/ Colon, and the Cartwrights. Did the Mile and 800. Although with no real speed work under my legs for 2 weeks it was really fun getting back on the track after 2 years. 

Wednesday: 
10 miles + flexibility session
8 miles w/ Manuel and Shades. Really cool having a pack to run with. Finished in 57:43. Felt great.

Thursday:
6 miles + 8x100m strides
So sore. Finished in 45:19

Friday: 
5 miles + drills & core circuit

Saturday: 
6 miles + 8x100m strides

Note:
Close your eyes and enjoy this tune.

The Calendar Hung Itself

Hm...

After today I will have 14 weeks to reach my goal which is to run 15:45.
I was so sure that starting on Sunday I'd have a full week of training. Unfortunately, it's been the most inconsistent, which is the worst feeling. I've only been able to get 3 runs in this week. Empty days on the calendar suck. I shouldn't be so negative about this week though, there were of course some good to this week. I felt GREAT physically. Every run was a piece of cake! (12 miler Sun, 10 miler Wed, and 1hr run Friday)

I'm also sick ONCE AGAIN, which means something..

One thing is for sure: I'm never going to stop trying. 

This upcoming week is the beginning of the fundamental phase. I have given myself some pretty tough workouts to complete and I am hoping this is where I start to break off from my old self. Trying to find clarity.

I'm close to figuring something out, but I don't know what it is. I feel it intuitively. Anybody ever get that feeling?

Even Flow

Apart from physical training, I have recently started training mentally for this sport. Two things I plan to improve every day for this training cycle: confidence, and focus.

My thoughts on my own confidence:
Let it be known now to myself: I sometimes don't know what the fuck I'm doing with this training stuff. I have been reading lots of training methodology since I first started training and figured out how to analyze my times, but I still don't know if what I am doing is the "correct" way. This is all merely a trial-and-error for me. My training is simply a projection of my own logic, and, people, do I question myself a lot. It's very difficult to have a positive attitude when you're in the dark. What I just said, thinking positively, is a big influence on my confidence. Now, sure, it's easy to start positive self-talk, for example, the common dull phase, "I can do this!". I'm not sure if I am able to say that to myself if I don't even fully believe it?

Here's something interesting that I've recently been aware of:
In 2013 Spring (my first training circle), I was ALWAYS looking right into the eyes of my goal (30:30 for a 5-miler), and never at the process itself (day-to-day training). I don't think I was wrong for being naive about my immediate goals (day-to-day training), but it's important for me not to look over them. I recall feeling quite lazy before going out to my runs, and never getting myself mentally prepared for it. Now that I look back, running seemed like a punishment, and not as a gift. That's about to change. I'm going to create a positive mindset for myself if it's the last thing I do. I'm never going to stop trying.

Think positively, take risks, experience success. Those are the 3 things I need to focus on to create confidence. I will talk about those later on, along with focus.


Training:

Sunday
9 miles
This was a hard run. Not the mileage, but the fact that it was hot and I made an idiotic move to keep my thick American Eagle hoodie on. To add on, I was sicker than a dog. Dry mouth, stuffed nose, negative thoughts before I even started, you name it.

Monday
5 miles in 35:10
Agility Drills
8 x 100m arrancones

Tuesday
3 miles in 21:13

Wednesday
6 miles in 41:43

Thursday
5 miles
Agility drills
10 x 100m arrancones

Friday
8 miles
5 miles 36:43

Saturday
3 miles 6 miles 41:30
Form drills
10 x 100m arrancones

Thoughts:
This will be an easy week. Oh! Spring semester starts next week.. I'm excited

Testify

Wake up call

Since my last post in November, (it's January now) training has not been as consistent as I had planned. Well, now that I think of it, it was a plan that I rarely put much thought about so I shouldn't talk. The plan I had worked on for 15 minutes had no phases in it, nor race goals. All I was thinking about was how this was the year I would keep progressing as runner, if that makes sense. It'd be a dream to be a challenge to college runners. 

I'm currently working on finishing up an outline of my spring season, so I plan to blog more about my runs and reflect on them. I do know this: I have 17 weeks to run a sub-27 10k and/or sub-16 5k. I can't wait. 

Turkey Trot 2013 - 48:20

Showing support to Hansons-Brooks ODP

Crowded, cold, and nervousness was all around me at the start line. Settling into a get-set position, I held the start button on my watch. "Runners, on your marks..."

Let's rewind to the night before, eh?

I ended up getting off work the night before the race around 10, constantly thinking about the race, The Dallas YMCA Turkey Trot (8 miles). I ended up eating a cliff bar that was offered to me after work from one of my co-workers because I ended up forgetting my money at home, and ended up not eating dinner Wednesday (bad I know). This was the first F-up to my concentration because I was constantly thinking, "I'm going to feel the effects of this tomorrow". 

When I got home, I started feeling an intense pain in my right leg. A pain I had been feeling since I had to do my long run on the track a few days ago. This was the second F-up to my concentration.

I was scheduling myself to wake up at 5:30 a.m. to gather up some of my friends, and head out downtown to find a parking spot near the start line. I made it to bed around 11 trying to focus on my breathing in order to relax, and hopefully disconnect from the pressure that was going on in my mind.

 Back to the start line ..*loud airhorn*

The race was on, and I quickly fastened myself next to my friend Carlos Colon. Carlos and I had came up with a plan a few nights before the race: follow the leader. Each of us would swap the leading role every mile, and maintain a 5:47-5:57 pace.

This plan sounds like it would have worked, but sadly, it was completely erased from my memory once we started running haha.

Side by side we passed mile 1 in about 5:40... shocked by that split we realized we had to lower the speed a bit. Carlos, and I were already starting to breathe hard, and I thought to myself, "it's only going to get tougher from here. What are you doing? Slow down!" Once I came to my senses I tried to figure out how I would turn the situation around. I have to love suicide pace. Only then will I have a true racing experience. A new challenge emerged as I passed that mile. I focused on leaving that part of me saying, "Erik, you have not trained for this, what are you doing?" deep down in the conscious, and follow a simple word: Fight! A word I kept repeating to Carlos in our previous weeks of training.

Miles 2-6 felt really easy. I ended up passing mile 4 around 23:40 (I'm writing this a week later so I could be off), mile 5 around 29:35. mile 6 around 36 minutes. I ended up getting a PR for miles 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8. This part of the race was rather easy since there was still a good pack of runners surrounding us, so all I had to do was copy their speed.

Mile 7-Finish
After we passed the 6th mile we ended up in a very abandoned part of the city with a VERY long stretch of road (Probably wasn't, but that's how it seemed like at that time). I was finally beginning to feel a side stitch, and I quickly started thinking negatively. I fell back from a little trio group that consisted of me, Carlos, and a runner who runs for a university up in Missouri (2nd female overall). Slowly, the two were starting to leave me when I suddenly heard Carlos scream "Come on! FIGHT!" "Oh f**k!" A new burst of energy flowed within me. I surged up to them, and latched myself to our trio again. Sadly, once we were about 800 meters from the finish line my legs completely gave up on me. Did I mention it was all uphill? I felt like I was walking! Carlos sped up the hill, and I quickly screamed internally "GO, GO, GO, GO!" I curved onto the final 100 meters, and sprinted (or so I felt like it) with a cheering crowd on the sides.

The greatest race of my life was now over in 48 minutes, and 20 seconds.