On the plane to New York last night, there were several people obviously traveling to do the New York City Marathon (either talking really loudly about it or wearing subtle shirts from previous marathons). When I didn't get in through the lottery this year I convinced myself that I didn't care, that I have already done the race twice and had painful if memorable experiences. But listening to them talk and seeing all the traffic signs warning of delays and road closures on Sunday for the race has me bitter and envious. I am going to have to pound the treadmill on Saturday and Sunday to try and deal with my angst.
I hit the scales at 178 pounds this morning which is around what I have been for the last year, a result of taking creatine for the last 20 months. Without creatine, I am around 170 pounds when I run 30-35 miles a week and lift three times a week . And a little bit faster. And a little weaker.
Given that I am trying to do well in marathons and triathlons, this extra weight is not doing me any good other than helping my sensitive ego. The creatine addiction all stems from seeing a photo from a half marathon in February 2006 in which I looked emaciated and old. I started on creatine in the hopes of gaining 5-10 pounds and filling some of the gaunt lines on my face. Presto it worked. I have considered going off the powder but visions of getting weaker dance in my mind so I stay on it.
Sam is 12 and has just about hit the stage where he doesn't want to hang out with his dad on weekends. I am OK with that; it's awesome that he has lots of friends who love spending time with him. But that leaves me sitting in the Kingston Holiday Inn (the Velodome section to be sure) waiting to pick him up from his night on the town. I should use this time to write a novel or pick a cause to support. Or watch a boring Celtics-Bulls game.