Self-Explanatory
When they say “Police ‘Need Criminals to Boost Numbers’” is that one of those chicken-and-egg puzzles?

Cutting Heads
If there's one good thing that's come from having finished training for the marathon, it'd be that I was home for the telecast of the 1st U.S. Presidential debate. I respect Jim Lehrer as a newsreader, and, in the PBS News Hour, when I catch it, as a moderator of discussion, even though I think he could stand a better set of commentators than he's got. As the moderator of the debate, let alone as the author of the questions, he was pretty weak, I thought, but be that as it may, the debate showed up a couple of points.

First, McCain often approached the point of incomprehensibility, struggling to finish a phrase, let alone a sentence, or to make a point, and always striving mightily to accomplish two things: sound like Ronald Reagan and to portray himself simultaneously as Beltway insider and "maverick" outsider. For anyone who's been paying attention, for even just the last year, neither came off.

Obama was measured and reasonable throughout, often crediting McCain when he didn't have to (and McCain certainly never saw any reason to offer any such courtesy), even when there wasn't so altogether much to hold praiseworthy. Don't forget - don't ever forget - that for all McCain's principled stand against torture as an interrogation method by U.S. troops, he rolled on the CIA and other paramilitary arms of U.S. power. I think he came off well, particularly on domestic issues, but he never stumbled on the foreign policy issues, either, even if he did let McCain slide on a few porkies.

Admittedly, I'm an Obama supporter, but that's not to say I'm blind to his faults. He doesn't have years (and years and years) of history on Capitol Hill, or any great depth in matters military, economic, or whatever. McCain certainly has more personal experience as a legislator than Obama on any matter of governance you can name. But experience doesn't translate into leadership, and that's what the Presidency is about.

Congress makes laws. The Judiciary ensures they are applied or can be. The President leads the nation. Bush has led America into a terrible economic crisis, two wars where one would have been sufficient, and a general malaise of neglect and abandonment of the needy. McCain will do nothing different. Obama will. At any rate, Obama will try. McCain is for McCain, and that's all. Obama is for America, the one we Americans are raised to believe in, the one where if you try you can succeed, where anyone can grow up to be President. That's not McCain, and he's not the President I want to see lead the country for the next four years, let alone eight.

And God help us all if his running mate ever came to power. No, let's not even mention what she could do to the Supreme Court.

Yes, I'm o.k.

That's me at the end, the only one of the five of six runners included in the video being asked if he's in need of medical assistance. I must have looked as healthy as I felt.

Feel better now, though, thankfully.

A Supposedly Fun Thing to Do
That I'll probably NEVER DO AGAIN. ZOMG. 4:32, by the clock over the finish line, and pretty much by my clock, too, although maybe a little less, since it was a couple of minutes before my brain would function enough to remember to stop it. I literally hobbled to the nearest city street after picking up my finisher's shirt and silly medal, and my gear, which all took far longer than I liked. But after buying a sports drink, which I consumed walking home the last block, and then polishing off the one I bought yesterday, I discovered perhaps the most painful aspect of doing silly things like this: showering. Yes, even though this is something you'd think would be a blessed relief, in fact, removing the salt from certain sensitive areas hurts a lot. Pain was inevitable, as previously mentioned, but this was suffering. Only briefly, of course. After that it was a matter of getting the water hot enough to restore my internal body temperature to normal and then drinking lots of water.

It was, however, a really interesting course. Starting on the north side of the harbour, and crossing the Harbour Bridge on a beautiful Spring morning, was a splendid start. Even better, the race then loops through the Domain and Botanical Gardens out to Mrs. Macquarie's Point, and past the naval base at Woolloomooloo, before heading back through East Sydney and into Darlinghurst along Oxford Street (strangely deserted, for the most part, although you could hear the Saturday night gay bar discos still pumping out the jams). The best part of this stretch was the bandit who jumped in: "I've been drinking for eight hours! And I'm going to run with you!" I'll never know what happened to him, but I doubt he lasted long.

The course took a loop through Centennial Park, out to Randwick Racecourse, and doubled-back on itself a couple of times along the way. Very annoying, but oh, well. After that, it was straight through the heart of the city via Surry Hills, my old stomping ground, as it were, and off along a stretch of highway to Leichhardt. And it was a stretch. By this time, we'd passed 28k, and I was looking for that 32k marker, with the excuse that, if I can get past that, it will be the longest I have ever run continuously and maybe there'll be a water station and I can take a little break. There was, I did, and it was the first one that still had some Gu. Up until then, I'd been making do with the two I'd carried - and consumed by about the 18k mark, jelly beans and diluted sports drink. Jelly beans, I think, are not as good. Sort of reminds me of that NY'er article, where they talked about Frank Shorter shaking up Coke to remove the fizz - a stop-gap measure until technology catches up. Of course, it has, and judging by the wrappers I saw, there was Gu provided, or maybe those were just the packets people had brought of there own.

Hairpin turn at Norton Street, and back up through Ultimo to the city. Nice working-harbour views. My training run had taken me - literally - over some parts of this course. Normally the Old Glebe Bridge is closed to traffic, but I'd had a nice look at it many times, crossing the Anzac Bridge above it. The loop through the Rocks was strangely desolate, although there's not much reason for anyone but a stevedore to be there generally, so I shouldn't be surprised. Suddenly, however, we were under the south towers of the Harbour Bridge and making the loop around Circular Quay. Packed to the rafters it was (and it was the first time anyone called out, "keep going Keith Richards"). By this time, walking was long since not an option. If I walked it became harder and harder to start running again. Murakami's mantras and examples did little, but I employed them - I am here to run; I am a running machine. Helped, I suppose, as I managed a bit of a kick over the last K and crossed the line better than I had any real reason to expect.

I was done in. I've regained a little energy, and the blisters I thought I felt coming up over the last 8K never did materialize. Clearly, taking the advice from the salesperson at Rebel Sport to buy a half-size up was worthwhile.

Now if I can just make it into work tomorrow. . . .

Last Gasp
Well, the training is over, so it's all on for Sunday. I missed a few days, unfortunately, but most here at the end, during the tapering off period, so maybe it's not so bad. I've done 93% of the training, all up, although I admit to being fairly slack about the cross-training element. I mean, if I ride my bike around town for a couple of hours doing errands, stopping here and there, does that still count? I guess I'll find out.

The race pack is seriously disappointing. Not only did I have to buy the shirt, but the stuff they hand out for free is handbills - not even discount coupons. I mean, in NYC, even if the shirt was just a cotton T, it was part of the entry. It's not like I'm in contention for any prizes, so it's all down to personal achievement, now.

The NY'er had an interesting piece on marathoning a couple of weeks ago, centered around the great hope of the nation for the Beijing games (but, my, didn't that Kenyan dude kick it?). Basically, all the big races and Western elite runners are subsidised by us hundreds and thousands of slowpokes. So why can't they hand out an advance tube of Gu?

I'm also readying Murakami's memoir, "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running," which is just annoying. Blah, blah, blah, I run every day and at least one marathon in under 4 hours every year. . . ." Bastard. No, actually, although I don't think memoir is his form, there's some good stuff in it here and there. I especially like: Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional (which I've since learned is Ghandi's). I may write that on my arm for Sunday.

Obligatory
Saturday was local council elections across NSW, so I got to vote for Mayor - Lord Mayor, no less - and a referendum (on whether Sydney should be divided into wards, and guaranteeing 3 councillors each, theoretically making the overall body more representative. At this level of government, party politics doesn't get in the way quite so much as it does at the State and Federal level. Clover Moore, for example, is an independent, and while Labor otherwise has been dominant, the Greens have a significant influence. The independents and Greens in the bigger houses play much more of a spoiler role, when they play any role at all.

Now the NSW State government (Labor) has been getting kicked around lately, what with the Premier resigning after sacking his cabinet, the new guy making some poor picks of his own and so on. The conventional wisdom basically runs that the State would kick Labor out, if there was a decent opposition. And it's true; the Liberals have been woeful. As for the Greens, well, you might just as well not vote as vote for them. They just don't have the power base. But if the Liberals can't make a go of it at the next election, they really ought to just stay home. WA just went (barely) for the Liberals, making Labor's wall-to-wall government stranglehold a thing of the past, and probably enlivening the hopes of the party here, too. We'll see. If the new guy manages to find the money for the infrastructure spending, and doesn't run into any more ministers-without-pants scandals, Labor could still pull it off.

And it's not like the Liberals nationally are all that, although having ousted the pathetic Brendan Nelson in favor of silvertail Malcolm Turnbull, they might yet have the nous to stand up to the Rudd government and make a challenge in 3 years. I don't think Turnbull's really got the credentials or the charisma, but that's just me. Peter Costello finally turning down the leadership sort of definitively probably helped Turnbull, but for all the fun it's been to listen to the whinging about Costello's memoir and will-he-won't-he (get real; he never had the nerve) stand for leader, it'd be nicer if they'd just get on with the job.

In some ways it's been a relief to focus on the U.S. Presidential run. McCain just gets nastier all the time. How anyone could ever have believed he was a politician of a different sort - a maverick - should have been put to rest as soon as he was shown embracing Bush in a bear hug after losing the nomination in '04. You is my bestest friend, George, no matter what anybodys says (including you). Jeez. Principles, eh? And look at his running mate! I mean, Obama picking Biden was a little bit of a surprise. What? He needed a daddy? O.k., that was unfair. Biden's not bad. Every time he turns up on t.v. here, he's asking the pointed question of somebody who needs to be poked with something sharp. He's not a bad speaker, he's got the credentials for the top job, he's got the gravitas. So why Alaskan Governor Palin? What was Johnny thinking? Was it really just his infamous temper flaring up over being denied Lieberman? Screw you guys, then, if I can't have Joe, I'll pick this no-name chick? Nah. And it's not all about the oil (in ANWR), either. Don't forget, McCain is fully aware that all the crude under the tundra would have zero net effect on gas prices and wouldn't last a year, even if you could pull it all out at once, or before two years from deciding to drill there. Is it the guns? The anti-abortionism? The mommy factor? She's freaking clueless, even if she isn't afraid to open her mouth and let everyone know. She won't melt down, and she won't make (quite) as much a fool of herself as Quayle did, but she's just a stunt.

I sit next to another ex-pat at work. I knew, the instant I met him, that he was a Republican, but, since he's from Chicago, and since he's recently spent a fair amount of time laughing at Palin and McCain, I asked. Yeah, die-hard, dyed-in-the-wool GOP. Voting Obama. Wouldn't have voted McCain even before Palin. For all the talk of stealing Hillary voters off the Democrats, I reckon John'll have driven off a few others who might have stuck with their party just like he did this guy. What a maverick.

Into the Infinite
David Foster Wallace, an author whose novels I've enjoyed immensely - including the immense "Infinite Jest" - hanged himself. I can't say how sorry I am to hear that. Other authors of his generation have pointed to him as the "smartest guy in the room", but I guess there are sometimes just demons beyond endurance even for such as Mr. Wallace.

Boom
The Large Hadron Collider is up and running, and so far no black holes sucking us into another dimension. At least, not that we’re aware of. Let’s see what happens when they actually start smashing up protons.

Closing in
Today's 19k was nearly as fascinating to me as Thursday's 6k, for the latter of which I turned in a clocked time of under 5 minutes per K. Today, however, at just under 6k, even if slower, showed something remarkable: after all these weeks, 19k, which was unimaginable 16 weeks ago, doesn't even require the kind of effort it did the first time I ran it, just the motivation. And there's the rub: I'm very tired, so psyching myself up for the training runs is getting a little old. Gu does seem to help - thanks, bro, but what helps even more is knowing this will all end soon.

Although there is still to be a running cabal at the office, at least until summer hits its stride.

Prep Work
Well, that's the longest training run done now. From here on, it's tapering off, up until 21 September, when I'll run 10k further than I did today. I gotta say, my only hope at this point is that the taper does the job, resting me, but still keeping up whatever little stamina I've developed these last 15 weeks, because the 32k kicked my butt today. I took the Gu(tm) the Counselor thoughtfully shipped past Customs, one shot before I went out, one at about 10-15k, and another somewhere around the 20k mark (all distances are approximate, based on my vague recollection of where the markers fall while I'm drafting the route on Map My Run), but the first on-route shot fell short of helping within the next 5k covered, and I can only hope the last one was what enabled me to shuffle through the remainder of the run. By the time I was on the last 2k, I was thoroughly done in, unable to accomplish any chores, which will now all have to be done tomorrow, along with some swimming or bike-riding. Given how my back and neck were seizing up over the last 10k, maybe I should go for weights and push-ups and the other exercises the trainer I'd been working with over October-March set out for me.

Racing
Yesterday's 23k felt o.k., and that may have been helped by the contribution of a case of Gu(tm) from the Counsellor. It couldn't have hurt. I'll carry some with me for the remainder of the training, especially next Saturday's 32k, the longest training run of all. I'll probably carry some on the day, too, just in case they're not handing it out with sufficient frequency to support my caloric requirements to complete the race.

Meanwhile, speaking of races, did Obama really choose Biden? I mean, not to be unduly rude, but WTF? It's better than Gore's Lieberman choice, but, still. It's a little Bush-istic, isn't it? Picking the old guy to add gravitas/experience? I'd have been happier with Richardson. I'll admit, Biden plays well on the news here, asking the hard, pointed questions. That can't hurt. Anyway, Democrats, go figure.

American Humor
Monday, M. took me to see David Sedaris. I guess the Counsellor and others of us had spoken often enough of how funny we found Sedaris' material that she thought it would be a special treat, given I'm such a fan. He is funny, and I enjoy his memoir pieces and so forth in the NY'er, but a book launch and reading was probably more effort than I'd have gone to on my own. Strangely enough, he was originally booked into a theatre venue, but things took an even stranger turn when they moved it to the Opera House. Nevertheless, it was packed to the rafters, nearly. I didn't hear many American accents, so he must have a following of his own. No doubt Sydney's gay population would have had something to do with it. The readings were very good. He got a lot of laughs. In fact, and in keeping with one piece that's never been published, he's better out loud than on paper. The interview with Judith Lucy, an excellent Australian comedian, was perhaps less successful, but mainly because it took some time to warm up, so that Sedaris spent a little time repeating himself, essentially. He's good, though, despite the odd nervous tic of introducing each piece with "I wanted to read something from [x]," as though apologizing for reading something different. He wanted to, and he did. I particularly enjoyed a Thurber-esque animal fable. Dead on. A nice treat, in the end, and I may have recruited a new member to Democrats Abroad.

Yes, It's Boring, But There's Nothing Else
29k yesterday, and it took just under 3 hours. I'd pretty well psyched myself out regarding my chosen course two weeks ago, doing the erroneous 32k, but now that I had some landmarks, it actually went pretty well, getting out to the Olympic Park, anyway. Somewhere along the trip back, though, with enforced stops to wait for traffic lights, I started stiffening up badly again, so that - again - by the time I got to Leichardt, I was reduced to jogging a K or two and walking a block or two, which seriously ate into my hoped-for two-hours-and-forty-five minutes intention. Not too bad, but it pretty much put paid to the rest of the day, which was spent largely in hobbling out to the laundry and back and watching the Olympics.

I know that NBC back in the States had a hand in the scheduling of the swimming, but the coverage here seems largely to consist of water polo, basketball, soccer, and archery. I think you've got to be pretty die-hard to stick with any of these, let alone badminton and ping-pong. Sheesh.

Meanwhile, so far so good for Michael Phelps, superfish. Eight today? Alas, I'll be out watching the Rabbitohs take on the Manly Sea Eagles, one of the best sides in the premiership.

Navigational
For this week's long run, 26k, I decided the best option was to run straight out Parramatta Road until I reached a reasonable cut-off to the Olympic Park. Easy to navigate, I thought, and a bit of a change. It would mean crossing some traffic intersection choke-points, but that oughtn't to delay me more than a couple of minutes here and there. However - and there had to be a however, didn't there? - I missed my turn. Suddenly, I was right behind the park, just the same (o.k., not suddenly; by this point it had taken damn near forever), so I swung in and started looking for the interior loop I'd plotted. Never did find it. Nevertheless, on the theory that I should do one anyway, I ended up following a longer loop than expected. By the time I got back on track - and stopping to examine a wall map helped me reorient myself - I was nearly done in. When I got home and replotted the route according to the path actually travelled, I'd done nearly 32k. What's killing me is, despite walking a lot of the path home, I did the course in two-and-a-half hours, i.e., 148 minutes, which works out to something like four-and-a-half minutes per k. I gotta be doing the math wrong, because I was very deliberate in keeping a "reasonable" pace, and probably walked most of the extra 7k. Even better, somewhere along the way, my ankle wallet unzipped, and my house key fell out. I had to spend 30 minutes waiting on a locksmith, while the salt of my perspiration dried in snail trails along my arms. I'm well sore, too. What a day. Swimming tomorrow will be just the ticket to loosen up, but I've also got to do the shopping, and bring my bike in for repairs.

Meanwhile, tonight's the Rabbitohs, so I'll spend some time out in the wind-chill just to top things off. The way I feel, they'd better bloody win, or I might not make it through the 80 minutes.

More Gloating About the Marathon
My running mate at work has pulled up with microfractures along his right shin, requiring rest for at least a week, if not putting him out of contention altogether. He's very committed, so I hope not, as I'm also looking forward to beating his time, since our runs together tend to be just a little slower, more often than not, than my solo runs. Still, he's twenty years younger, at least, so I won't feel bad about a different outcome.

I screwed up my Saturday run, though, when I was supposed to do 24k and only accomplished 22, as a result of not studying the mapped route carefully enough in respect to the final 4k, which led me to cut off a loop at the end. It's actually getting rather difficult to find longer and longer runs that aren't just loops around the same stretches of road, with a couple of final turns around a couple of local blocks, which also led me to a really difficult bike ride across a few bridges up north, and which probably won't end up as an new route, simply because I got so thoroughly turned around trying to find the bike paths.

Of course, I also recognize that all these marathon-related posts must be getting dull, a failing I think that inevitably occurs in those of us who train for such things, but it does become an obsession, so please don't think it's all just gloating smugness at how fit I'm becoming. I am pleased to go have some trousers taken in, just the same.

Long Weekend
I planned my weekend around a Saturday afternoon Rabbitohs home game, and the fact that I had to go to the bank, the post office, and visit a doctor to have some stitches removed (minor kitchen incident). In the end, since the knots had come undone, I did the stitches myself. The remaining chores, at opposite ends of the city, presented similar levels of difficulty, but provided plenty of opportunity for riding my bike. It was only having to navigate the crazed Catholics meandering through town with absolutely no awareness of anything around them but themselves. Nice they had a good time, I suppose, but there were more barricades up than for APEC, and not all of us were headed for mass at Randwick Racecourse (where, I suppose, a trifecta bet could only be Father-Son-Holy Ghost). I’m not a little glad to see the end of “World Youth Day”.

The Rabbitohs game, however, turned out to be on Sunday, which meant I had to do my 16k run and head straight out to Olympic Park. (Speaking of which, Olympic Park, where the various venues left over from 2000 have little to occupy themselves, was used as a gigantic shelter for many hundreds of WYD pilgrims, sleeping on the floor of various gymnasiums and so forth, serviced by semi-trailer showering and toilet facilities.) But the Bunnies lost, badly, outplayed by Wests Tigers, and I returned home tired and a little muscle-sore, in rather a bad mood, facing a large load of laundry to complete, exacerbating the gloom of the evening.

Wascals
The Mighty Bunnies won last night, against the Parramatta Eels, in what was probably one of the most fun evenings I've spent at a sporting event. It was a bigger crowd than usual, which may be attributable in part to (a) their winning streak, now at 5-in-a-row (for the first time since 1994); and (b) World Youth Day, for which a special seating section was on offer, although I can't say that there was any evidence of Catholic pilgrims visible.

Talking Down
I never voted for the man, but I have had little, if anything, against the Reverend Jesse Jackson, even admiring him as a candidate for President, perhaps especially in knowing he never stood a chance. But he’s a showboat, and known for his inappropriate commentary - remember “hymie town”? I’ll bet there a lot of Jewish NY’ers who do. Unfortunately, like the Reverend Al Sharpton, Jackson is regarded as an African-American spokesman especially when he does or says something harmful to himself or his community, a situation you’d think he’d recognise and try to mitigate, rather than offering the Bill O’Reilly’s of the world more ammunition. It’s not going to hurt Obama among his supporters, but it’s going to give aid and comfort to those who will irrationally oppose his candidacy, which will have the inevitable effect of swaying the weak-minded into a knee-jerk vote for Bomb-Iran (with cigarettes) McCain, just when they might very well be willing to try something different, as well as to support the disgruntled Clintonites in doing something equally stupid. Why do Democrats seem so intent on shooting each other in the foot?

This Little Light
M. & I caught the Rolling Stones concert flick, Shine a Light, over the weekend, about which I'll say, it's a well-done concert movie, if not necessarily a stand-out; the Stones are pretty much, by the evidence of the performance documented, very set in their persona, very much aware of themselves as performers, as The Stones, and don't offer much in any way new or fresh of themselves; Buddy Guy, who appears for one song, blows them all away, as acknowledged by Keith Richards, who, in a gesture of submission, hands his guitar to Guy, saying, "this is yours". I really have to find a copy of Stop Making Sense, now, to round out the concert movie experience, but I don't expect it to exceed Berlin.

Highways
I bought a bike last weekend, to help me figure out new routes around home, as the distances get longer, so I won't be left just doing loops of the shorter distances already plotted out on Map My Run. My specific first inspection tour, last Sunday, was to find a way, if such existed, across the Anzac Bridge. It wouldn't add much distance, per se, but it would mean crossing a bridge, which would be beneficial for race day, when, last year, anyway, the marathon crossed three bridges. Hill work, essentially. I didn't find the bike path until I was already well into highway traffic, at which point I discovered myself running parallel to the pedestrian/bike lane, separated by a concrete barrier. At the first break in traffic, I hauled the bike across and proceeded normally. All well and good, but this week, for my 19k run, I figured on hooking up with the bike path on spec; that is, I made an unfortunate assumption of where it started. Nope. It actually starts on the other side of Victoria Road, and has a overpass of its own to join up with the bridge's bike/footpath. So, as usual, it seems, I was left with bushwacking my way to a point where I could rejoin the plotted route. Less dangerous than the previous weekend, but frustrating. I'll have to make a trip into town, soon, to see about something similar for the Harbour Bridge, not to mention finding a way over the Lane Cove Bridge. That'd put me three-for-three on the previous route's bridges, although I hear this year the route's been changed. Apparently, international participation rates are low because the course has been considered too hard. (Too hard? These people run marathons for money. Wimps.)

Meanwhile, as we all know, intensive aerobic exercise shuts down certain autonomic processes, i.e., digestion, which I've discovered affects me rather dramatically, post-run, at distances more than 10k. We shall have to hope not to be "caught short" come race day. Say no more.