The Legend of Gu

Today, I passed a running milestone. No, I'm not talking about my first foree into double digits mileage, I'm talking about my willing ingestion of a sports gel/gu.

For those ill-acquainted with the idea, runners and other endurance athletes measure their self-worth as a function of discomfort and unpleasantness endured while engaging in their sport; swapping food for calorie infused non-foods of the gag-reflex variety is just one of many options. I kid - kind of.

Gu (if we're going all brand-conscious here) is what the name would imply: a slimy substance. Primarily, gels are concentrations of fructose or other sugars. Runners et al. bring gels along in their pockets and tear into them at a recommended rate of about one every forty minutes for runs lasting longer than 75 minutes. There's a lot of variety on what sort of nutrient pumping occurs in the gel world, but gels advertise supplementation in anything from electrolytes to vitamins to amino acids to caffiene to the ebola virus (oddly, less popular than the other alternatives, despite having the nicest flavor).

Advertising claims aside, they do offer certain advantages. Primarily: portability. They're also much less likely than solid food to divert blood to the stomach and jump-start a destructive digestive spin cycle that illustrates just why people call it "the runs" afterall. I'm not sure gels are any more effective than any concentration of sugar, which brings me to wonder if I wouldn't be happier with a honeybear strapped to my waist in future long runs - it would certainly be cuter and a heckuvalot more entertaining to me. Also, perhaps I am too suspicious, but I'm wondering if somebody didn't just buy up a surplus or those novelty flavored lubes and repackage them. Still, many marks for convenience.

And yes, ten miles today. And it only required getting up at 4:45 already dressed in my workout clothes to do it! Ok part of sleeping in my workout clothes is more a motivational thing than an actual time consideration, but smooshing together a workout and a morning routine can be pretty intense. I blame my compulsive fear of injury and resulting fixation on warming up, cooling down and stretching, which inevitably adds 30-45 minutes easily to any actual running that might get done. When I think of it in terms of time, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, since I have done all sorts of aerobic activities for longer than 1.5 hours. And when I think of the miles clocked by marathoners, it feels even more paltry. But somehow, that move into double digits is still cool.

And time consuming! I might only be adding a little less than ten minutes a week, but these things add up. At some point these long runs are really going to be...long. Since I only have a two weeks more of work, I'll get a chance to re-evaluate my running schedule before school starts up again. It's going to feel a bit like a game of scheduling tetris, I suspect.

In other news, today is my last day as a 26 year old. I'm not sure what I ought to do to commemerate this, if anything. I am hankering for a solitary wander of the urban kind. There's something pleasant about these sorts of jaunts through anonymous shopping structures and office buildings - they resemble the experience of being in transit, meditative moments in which the ego dissolves and existence crystalizes; being becomes intransitive in the face of transition - one simply is and nothing more. This weekend, I found the final book of the Night Watch Series - something of a surprise since I'd thought it was a trilogy. For those unacquainted, it's a Russian fantasy series painted with all the appealingly beleagured-yet-hopeful-cynicism that only Russians can do. Perhaps for my final day as a 26 year old I'll go find an airport-resembling food court and read my book and pretend I'm on the cusp of some exciting adventure. You may shape that into the trite analogy such a sentiment begs, as I am sure that the next year of my life will be an adventure, as they always are.