100 Miles at 180 Pounds

My "Doing Stupid Things While 20 Pounds Overweight" Tour continued with the Solvang Century, only one week after the LA Marathon debacle. The first 20 miles went great. I even joined a pack with some serious cyclists that was averaging 25 mph through some rolling hills. Nevermind that I was at my anabolic threshold within the first hour of a 6-plus hour ride. It felt good. Until my buddy Aaron dropped me at mile 35. And until my legs totally blew up at mile 60. I was ready to get in the sag van at mile 70 when an old dude on a recumbant bike exhorted me to finish. "Son, I'm 72 years old. I'm going to finish this ride, and so are you." Embarrassed, I coasted my way towards the finish. I hope that I'm inspiring 30-year olds when I'm 72.

My new friends Drew and Whittney and I went to Bacara resort and spa in Santa Barbara for post-race recovery massages. I learned something about myself: I enjoy a good spa treatment.

All smiles at mile 20

Fresh from our sports recovery massages at Bacara Spa

More pictures from the Solvang Century weekend with Drew, Whittney, Aaron and Annabelle here.

26 Miles at 180 Pounds

My New Year's resolution was so simple: lose 15 pounds by March 4, 2007. I've lost that much weight in as little as 40 days. But that was before I turned 30. It seems that on my 30th birthday, my metabolism came to a halt. So March 4th came, with me weighing 180 pounds. A full 20 pounds heavier than when I first did the Los Angeles Marathon three years ago.

I was worried at the start. I didn't train properly. I really ate a lot of crappy food over the past three months. But for some reason, I got to the starting line in Universal City very confident. I would hold back, and aim for a modest time of four hours, thirty-five minutes, meaning that I would have to average exactly 10:30/mile. A snail's pace.

Miles 1-16 were awesome. Best I'd ever felt in a marathon. Maintaining 10:30 was a walk in the park. Then at mile 17, I noticed my heart rate was reaching critical. I don't know why I didn't realize it earlier. Maybe it was the cockiness that comes with running a course that's mostly downhill for the first 16 miles. Maybe it was the ideal running weather, which coincidentally disappeared at mile 16.

At any rate, I struggled to stay on pace.

Then came mile 18.

Body shutting down. Must . . . have water. Start walking. Oh look, there are Dad and brother. They have cameras. Must . . . run . . . for . . . picture!

I walked the next three miles, then did my best impression of the ghouls in "Thriller" to try to run/shuffle my way to a sub-five-hour marathon. To no avail. Official time: 5:02:49.

Damned extra 15 pounds. I was so depressed after the run that I drowned my sorrows in Tecate and Mexican food in Boyle Heights. Drunk and full, I resolved to lose 15 pounds by August 4, the date of the Vineman Triathlon. Who's taking bets?

Check out the pictures my dad and brother took here.