Who are the people you really don’t like running with?  I’m sure we can all come up with our own lists of fellow runners with annoying habits that take a little bit of the fun out of our runs from time-to-time.  Panters, sweat-sprayers, don’t-wash-the-shirt-enough-guy, one-steppers (who insist on running one step faster than you want to go), blah-blah-blahers.  I could go on.

But if you are like me, the worst person of all to run with is the one that’s not even there.

It’s the person we end up having imaginary, contentious conversations with as we go along and not even realize they are dogging us, sapping us of the gentle joys of being alone and running.

Maybe it’s always a specific person, someone who is close to you, but always finds a way to get under your skin.   Or someone you just can’t seem to get close enough to– who always has a way to keep distance between you. Or someone who has perpetrated some great injustice upon you. Or one that won’t forgive your trespasses against them.

Or it could be the red Dodge Ram truck that blocked your lane and forced you to miss your exit this morning, the grocery store that didn’t have enough checkout clerks and caused you to be late for a dentist appointment, the person who designed the beverage holder that won’t hold your coffee mug.

The Worst Person To Run With is like an earworm.  They show up uninvited and stay as long as you let them.  Often they stay with us longer than we realize, just sitting there on our shoulder, repeating the same arguments, whispering the same doubts, pointing out the same mistakes, vexing us.

I am not usually one to rely on music to get me through runs, but listening to almost anything is better than listening to this person over and over again. What’s worse is that running with this imaginary person in your head makes dealing with the real person even harder in real life, because your body feels and remembers the pain of that contentious conversation that never took place.  You’ve secretly made The Worst Person To Run With even more oppositional to you with every stride you’ve carried them.

The upcoming holiday season ramps up the volume of so many of our relationships, it’s a natural time to end up taking along The Worst Person to Run With on our precious runs.

So let’s see if we can give our shoulders a rest this season.

Perhaps, like I try to do when I realize what’s happening, you can leave The Worst Person To Run With by the side of the road,  and take the rest of your run free from distraction.

And get back to The Best Person To Run With. Yourself.

Who have you met on a run?  What have you learned about them? Yourself?

I have a regular running partner who I’ve been running with for about 10 years or so.  It’s a partnership I take for granted, but one I’ve come to rely on.  We have an incredibly satisfying non-run kind of run.  By that I mean no talk of PR’s or speedwork or anything to do with running at all.  Just the kind of meandering conversation that goes on for miles without either one of us really noticing how far we’ve run.   Familiar, comfortable and the foundation that helps me do other, more intense kinds of training on top of it.

Over the past couple weeks, I got the chance to run with a few people that I had never run with before– which is pretty rare for me because of the patterns I’ve set in my training.

Since it was running that brought me to meet these new friends,  I knew we’d end up talking about running, and I found it curious to see where the conversation ended up with each of them.

I’ll just refer to them as The Trail Runner, The Yogi and The Surgeon.  And no, we did not run into a bar, although if we did, I’m sure The Surgeon could get a pharma company to pick up the tab if the Obamacare website isn’t quite up-to-speed yet.

With The Trail Runner, whom I met up with during the Runners World Half 10K road race, the talk was mostly about the companionship and therapeutic benefits that running provides.  Whether it’s on a long run through the woods (she does 50K runs for fun. Yes, I said fun) or just a run up Main St., she reminded me of how social this sport has become.  With big races, meet-ups and such a variety of running-related events,  we don’t have to be lonely long distance runners unless we really want to.  And when we want to be alone, running is still there for us, as the healing value shifts from talk therapy to zen.

The Yogi was the youngest of my newfound companions, in her mid-30s.  She reminded me of how a runner’s competitive nature can lead to a mindset that brings on injury.  She considered herself a reformed runner in that she no longer pushes herself to run through pain at the cost of her health.  She works with runners and athletic teams now and offered a very keen observation about why yoga can help runners live better lives.  Runners too often try to disassociate themselves from their bodies in the push to run through pain, whether to hit training goals, just to be stubborn or because of something closer to addiction.

As runners, we are set up to be “versus” our bodies, trying to push them beyond where we are comfortable. Yoga also pushes us, but it pushes us into our bodies.

Yoga puts us back in touch with our bodies by helping us understand our contours, strengths and resistance.   I’ve done both and believe that the best of both worlds is to approach the excitement and competitive spirit of running as a way to better understand my body, not to try to impose some kind of domination over it that leads to a breakdown.  And yoga helps me do that.

The Surgeon was perhaps the most humble about running’s role in his life– as he was just thrilled to have the time on a Sunday afternoon to take to the trail as our kids rode their bikes ahead of us. Even though he had to carry a backpack with his phone and supplies because he was on call for surgery, he ran with ease and relaxation.   He took whatever running had to offer and made few demands on it, maybe because there were so many other demands on him and his work.

Our talk veered into healthy habits and eating and he expressed how difficult it is to watch his patients fail at making relatively simple lifestyle changes that could ward off life-threatening concerns like diabetes and heart disease.  “I’m good for another 60 years, right doc?” was the kind of thing he’d hear when he was doing bypasses and putting in stents.  That kind of attitude might be good for his business (if the afflicted can get to him in time), but he was still sad and perplexed about seeing that kind of attitude keep people from living full and active lives.

I’m grateful for the chance to get such an interesting collection of people to run next to and reminded of what a great venue that a run can be to get to know someone a little.  Better than a cup of chili or a glass of gin (you know who you are), in my humble opinion. But then, as a running author, maybe you’d expect that from me.

Yet The Trail Runner, The Yogi and The Surgeon each found something in the runs, too, I’m sure.  And I hope to be able to share more from them and others that I happen upon during my runs.

Running can be an awesome power in our lives: to help us connect to others, to help us connect with our own bodies and to help us connect to health and longevity.   May we not only manifest that power in our own lives, but serve as ambassadors of the sport to whomever we meet one-on-one, run-by-run, at any speed.

So we are almost exactly halfway between the two big east coast marathons, Marine Corps Marathon (last weekend) and New York City (this coming weekend).

Just between the two little old-fashioned footraces, more than 78,000 of you will subject yourself to a level of physical, mental and emotional cruelty that, if not for the fact that you do so willingly, publicly and at great personal expense, would be expressly banned by the Geneva Convention.

And yet, as I was out on my little wimpy, happy 5-mile run today, I couldn’t help thinking about why the race, despite its torture, is so compelling.

So here goes, 10 Awful Things That I Love About Marathons.

10.  It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion

The pain and distress the race causes happens over the course of hours, scattered over the map of the city.  Usually human carnage of this magnitude is horrifically centered in one heap, which is too monumental to grasp.  Here we have the luxury of watching the pain and agony unfold slowly, as the happy faces of the first few miles morph into the strained grimaces of the final few.

9.  Zombies take over a city

When zombies finally do appear in our streets and claim our nation, there will be a strange sense of deja vu for anyone who has witnessed a major city marathon.  The stoned faraway looks and the staggering but indomitable pace of the streaming multitudes will be nearly identical.

8. We get to stare at you, in your underwear

Usually, when we stare at people who are so vulnerable and thinly clothed, we are considered impolite and potentially perverse. During a marathon, we are considered supportive.

7. We feel like you look

On many days, the hard knocks of life have us feeling beaten and beleaguered.  But we can’t show that side of ourselves, or we will be pitied and coddled and possibly stripped of our responsibilities at work.   So watching you cheers us up as we identify with your pain and acknowledge that maybe we can get through our own sh*t afterall, seeing how you keep going no matter how terrible you look. And you do.

6.  There’s a finish line

You have a finish line to end your pain and signal your achievement.  We are not so lucky as we struggle with the ups and downs of our lives. We just go to bed and try again tomorrow.  But you remind us that struggle can have purpose if we let ourselves believe that what we are doing has some importance.  We need you to keep going to give us hope.

5.  Watching the clock

The worst part about running my first marathon was the incessant worry about whether I was going to hit my time goal. The clock doesn’t pause and doesn’t compromise.  And yet that time lasts forever on your race history permanent record.  The tyranny of that disciplines you to push yourself.  We can sit idly by and see you have to be judged by the harsh measurement of the clock, while ours seemingly stands still. No one will judge us today like the clock will judge you.

4.  It’s personal yet public

There will be 78,000 reasons and 78,000 stories and 78,000 inspirations behind the runners that will complete these marathons. Many will cry upon finishing and not (just) because their nipples are bleeding.  Each person’s struggles and achievements and failures are intensely private, forged in the hours and hours of training and the singular dedication to preparing for this day.  And yet, there it is.  Right in front of our eyes.  Every single step of those 26.2 miles will be publicly witnessed by thousands of people. We will know if you make it or not.  We will know when you walk. We will know if you cramp, cry or crumble in a ball.  That kind of transparency is the ultimate curbside reality TV.

3. You are all moving in one direction

Seldom in life do so many people simultaneously agree to move in the same direction for so long.  If you randomly selected 78,000 people and put them in one place can you imagine any other scenario where they would virtually all end up in the same destination via the same route?  I fear that the enjoyment of this coordinated and mutually beneficial movement makes us all socialists.  We may be in Glenn Beck’s next book.

2. It’s like the world’s largest Stations of the Cross

With all due respect to people of all faiths, this Catholic boy can’t help thinking of the marathon as tracing some of the steps of Jesus as he was led to his crucifixion.

Your clothes (ie. extra sweats and garbage bag ponchos) are taken away. You may fall (or at least stumble).  You may see your mom (even if only in a ecstatic vision accompanied by polka music). You will get help from strangers (who oddly know your name). Women will weep as you pass by (you will look that bad). You may fall again– and again. You will wipe your face (save that towel!). You will be offered water, and perhaps occasionally if they are out of Gatorade, hyssop on a reed.  I only hope you have a more dignified finish line to mark the end of your day.  Although come to think of it…

1. The first guy who ran it died after finishing

So for Pheidippides’ sake, you gotta kinda know it’s not a great idea.  Sort of like the first guy who ate poison berries.  And yet, you go on and somehow survive.   In other words…

When life gives you poison berries, make a smoothie.

Drink up, marathoners.  Congrats and good luck.

I hope to see some of you this weekend at the Runners World Half and Festival in Bethlehem at Steel Stacks.    The weekend is more than just races and the huge expo for running gear. Here’s the schedule for the other half of the weekend, the seminars and talks on Saturday.  I’m entered in “just” the 10K, which no doubt will be filled with runners just passing through on their way to the coveted hat trick hat (running the 5K, 10K and half marathon).  Technically, I did complete the hat trick last year in what I’m pretty sure was the fastest time of any finisher.  However I did so by running the half and driving the pace car in the 5K and 10K.

Some of this year’s highlights that you will not want to miss are below.  Get here on Saturday for some of the best speakers in sneakers.

Noon   My track coach Budd Coates will be talking, with Chief Running Officer Bart Yasso, on “What Every Runner Should Know” .  Perhaps Bart will mention what I’d like to know: how to get paid for doing what he does.

Also at noon, two very well-informed nutrition experts who helped me in my Mulligan Mile will be part of a panel on fueling for peak performance.  It’s sold out, but a few stand by seats should open up and I hope to be in one of them.

• Joanna Golub – Runner’s World Senior Editor, Nutrition
• Pamela Nisevich Bede – Sports Nutritionist and Runner’s World Columnist

1:15  My brilliant editor Tish Hamilton is leading a panel with Olympic hero (and erstwhile kids’ game show host) Summer Sanders, who Tish assures me is as every bit as charming and smart as she is beautiful and talented.  The panel will discuss the unique challenges and joys of women’s running.

There’s also seminars on running with dogs, injury prevention, pregnancy and running and more along with two inspirational running flicks, including one on running legend Steve Prefontaine.

The evening wraps up with what promises to be the most riveting running talk you will ever hear, from Dave McGillivray, Race Director of the Boston Marathon.

By the way, if you are looking for my book signing, don’t bother.  I am still working with my agent to put the finishing touches on the book development proposal.  Maybe next year you will be able to line up for your copy.  This year, just get your pasta and be happy.

If you follow my work, you may remember that in four months last summer, I went on to lose 12 pounds, cut 1:21 from my mile time and [spoiler alert] run a 5:34 in the 2012 Fifth Avenue Mile, a time that surprised me most of all as I tell in my story, The Mulligan Mile.

I knew this year’s result would be slower due to a litany of excuses I had registered in advance with my readers when I signed up for the 2013 race.  I mean, I could have just blamed Obama, since the car crash I got into on election night 2012 was clearly his fault.  But that was the easy way out. You deserve a better explanation than such an obvious scapegoat.

Yet perhaps I didn’t need to create such a long list of reasons. It all may boil down to one variable that, for me, encapsulated all the other, related excuses in one neat number, 10. As in ten pounds heavier this year than I was last year.  Of course a big reason for that is that I didn’t train as much or as hard as last year.  But with that in mind, my weight may have been the best measurement of just how much training I had done this year and my prospects for success.

I did my best to try and find a reliable source to tell me definitively the relationship between weight and speed.  I know that every pound lost is speed gained, but how much?    I found this article in Runners World that plausibly suggested that losing 10 pounds would net you 20 seconds per mile, within some undefined reasonable range.

So that would mean this year’s time, with everything else being equal, would come in at around 5:54, reflecting the additional burden I had to carry for those 20 hallowed blocks along Central Park East.

I’d be thrilled to take that, given that I still hadn’t broken 7 minutes in the little training that I had done this year.

The race this year started out similar to last year’s in that I scorched the first quarter mile and was only a couple seconds behind last year’s pace at the first split.  After that, I completely lost track of the clock until I looked up in the final 40 yards before the finish line.  Last year, I checked my half-mile split (what i reported as 2:59, but afterward I realized that my real, chip time, was probably 6 seconds faster than that due to the time it took me to get to the start line).

But I didn’t need a clock to tell me this year was different.  I tried the same racing technique– zero in on the back of someone ahead of me and try to pass him.  Last year, it worked, I was passing people left, right and center.  This year, not so much.  Turns out that setting the intention of passing someone isn’t the same as actually passing him.

You still need the legs– and the lungs.  I had neither in the same capacity any longer and the backs of the guys in front of me just kept going and in fact, were joined by more and more backs of guys passing me in the final 600 yards. No one seemed to pass me last year.  But this year, I was passed over more times than celery sticks on a buffet table.  I kept pushing as best I could, but at one point I caught myself thinking about the finish, just wishing it were upon me. And it wasn’t.

My lungs were clenched, my legs kinked. I was moving backward. But somehow when I looked up at the clock at finish line, there was still a 5 in the first position. As I drew near it and with that auspicious number drawing me in, I staggered home just before it turned over to 6.

Which of these authors is David and which is Goliath? Malcolm Gladwell ran a blistering 5:03 in this year’s Fifth Avenue MIle.

My lungs immediately seized up and I could barely talk above my cough for the next 30 minutes, even when I stopped to chat with fellow writer and age 50 – 59 competitor Malcolm Gladwell, author of The Tipping Point and the new David and Goliath.  Gladwell kicked my mulligan ass with an incredible 5:03 befitting the former Canadian champion runner interviewed in the same September 2013 Issue that my story ran.

So I ended up officially with a 5:56, plus 22 seconds from last year– almost to the second what was predicted by my 10-pound weight gain. (Since he ran about a minute faster than me, does that mean Gladwell must weigh about 150 lbs?)  Now I have to eat my pretzels.

You can keep your Yasso 800s to predict your marathon times.  I’ll just use the Cinquino Scale to let you know what I plan on running in my next competitive mile.

Congratulations to three fellow running friends from the Lehigh Valley on their fine races that day, too.  Megan Hetzel (@megrunnergirl) who won the women’s media race.   Pictured below are Jamie Gottschall, who ran strong coming off a series of troublesome injuries,  and my running coach Budd Coates, who placed second in the men’s media race with a time that would have won our age heat if he had chosen to compete against Malcolm and I.  Maybe next year, coach.

Later in the week, I’ll get you some more details on yesterday’s race. But until then, my agent has told me in no uncertain terms I need to be working on my book proposal.  So enjoy these photos and stay tuned.

In the moments leading up to the starting gun, what should you do?  It’s the most nerve-wracking minutes of a runner’s life.  To make matters worse, I’m already thinking about those moments now, even though the Fifth Avenue Mile race is still 2 days away.

In fact, the only way I can get through the week leading up to a big race is when I know exactly what I’m supposed to do each and every day and in the pre-race warm-ups.

Without a specific plan to hold my attention and assuage my anxiety, my mind is left to wander off the farm into the woods, where the hungry foxes of fear and doubt devour my energy with needless worry and their mysterious call.

So this is what I’ve been doing this week, in anticipation of the 5th Avenue Mile on Sunday.

Last Sunday, in a gorgeous early evening in Brooklyn’s McCarron Park, I ran 8 200’s, as a mariachi band played to a picnic and bingo party on turn 3 of the track.

Monday, I ran for about 50 minutes, with some walking and water stops in between. This took place on the very, very scenic Lehigh University campus in Bethlehem, PA.  Lots of beautiful sights there.

Tuesday was a guilt-free 20-minute dash in Historic Bethlehem.  In my book, if it’s 20 minutes, it counts.

Wednesday was intervals at the track with my coach, Budd Coates.  He put me through 6 x 100m strides, 2 x 200m at fast but not all-out, 1 x 400 all-out (which for me was only 87 seconds, so don’t get your hopes up for me besting my time from last year) and then 3 x 100 strides to wrap up the day, capped off with about a half-mile jog with the editor who helped bring out the best parts of my Runners World story, Tish Hamilton.  (Who, btw, is a great Twitter follow @RWtish).

Thursday – Went to see Sklar Brothers at Helium in Philly. (Who, btw, are my absolute favorite, #1 Twitter follow, @Sklarbrothers)

Friday,  3 miles and 6 x 100 m strides back in Brooklyn.

Saturday will be an easy 2 miles in Central Park.

On Sunday, here’s what Budd advises for warm up for a mile race:

Get up for an early (6-8am) very easy 15 minutes run.  This will get me up and out of bed and will keep me from tossing and turning thinking about my nerves.

At Race time:

10 minutes easy run

4 strides at pretty good but not all out pace

RYBO- Run Your Butt Off!

See you there. I’ll be the guy in the Mulligan shirt, looking for a mulligan on his mulligan and hopefully, having a good laugh.