The Martin Chronicles

I Wrote Another Book!

2011-12-20T13:55:00.001-05:00

I am overjoyed to inform you that I've completed writing my 3rd book. What is it about, you may ask? Well, I'll excerpt the two sections from my book introduction that explain that:

"How this book came to be

I cannot remember how NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) entered my consciousness. I suppose the concept was always buzzing around in my brain until it took hold when I became aware of its existence in reality. What is NaNoWriMo? I shall quote directly from the website: “National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word, (approximately 175 page) novel by 11:59:59, November 30.”
For months I walked around daydreaming about what I might possibly write about over this 30-day span. My first two books were non-fiction. I’ve written short stories before, but I’m poor with dense plotting. Anything I’ve ever written in that arena consists of few characters and perhaps a single twist, but no more. I did realize, however, that in my mind I was constantly creating dialogues amongst my many methods of daydreaming. I daydream a lot, as you might imagine.
Dialogue would be the novel, but what kind of dialogue? Who is talking with whom about what? Where are they? In what time? Why would anyone read this?
I recalled a book I head read in my youth called Vox, by Nicholson Baker (looking back, I realize I was a bit young for that book). It is a conversation between a man and a woman over a party line. The dialogue was free-flowing. I could recreate something like that, but what would my characters talk about? What would bring my characters together? Could I create believable dialogue for a woman?
I then recalled a film where two Jewish fellows rehash a decades-old grievance and converse for two hours on a park bench. I could not remember the name. I e-mailed my father, who had it in a nano-second: The Quarrel. He offered that he had actually written papers for college in the style of the conversation. Interesting!
I then ruminated on my enjoyment of business fable books, specifically the One Minute books by Ken Blanchard and Spencer Johnson and the books by Patrick Lencioni. The style resonated with me and informed me very well. The dialogues were an excellent way to relay the gobs of information both explicit and implied.
I then realized the answer was staring at me right in the face. Nearly every Shabbos morning, I pick up a friend on the way to synagogue, and invariably heavily discuss matters concerning God, religion, evolution, science, knowledge, ignorance, truth and faith. The regrettable problem is that these conversations are always interrupted and never allowed to complete or come full-circle, just as many public debates regarding similar themes are hampered by various constraints, most notably time itself.
My book would be our full imagined dialogue, unencumbered by physical limitation. I would give our opinions full voice and allow them to pour forth like a mighty stream. This would also allow me to more fully explore the concepts and educate myself further.
The pieces were now aligned on the chessboard. I now needed only to wait until midnight of the first of November to hit the clock.

And so, it began

At the stroke of midnight on November 1, 2011, I began to write. At the midnight toll of November 30, 2011 I did not make deadline, having fallen 7,850 words short. On December 14, 2011, I hit the 50,000 word mark. On December 17 – my grandfather’s 93rd birthday, may he continue to be well – the book was complete. Following rewrites and edits over a several-month period, this is what I wrote:"

There is much yet to be done. I need to do an initial rewrite, then a rewrite based on all the feedback I've gotten from friends, then a rewrite with proper footnotes, then I have to run it through some volunteer editors, then I have to go through the painstaking rejection process, then if that doesn't work, self-publish again. I do have a feeling that I might have something here that publishers might want. We shall see.

While I'm going through that process, I'm actively writing Bush II, Book II and Bad Behavior II: More Scalawags, Dirtbags, Bullyrags and Lollygags. Oh, and a few children's books and a book on running and my grandfather's memoirs and many other ideas while I try to crank out another issue of TheKnish.com and another iteration of my surname column.

As you can see, I hope to do this for a living one day. Because for now, if I may quote the words of the recently late Christopher Hitchens: "Being a writer's what I am rather than what I do."

While I'm sweating away at all this, please consider purchasing one or more of my first two books (50% off!): http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom
Kindle versions are available here: http://www.amazon.com/Martin-Bodek/e/B004GAVBZ8/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1324405444&sr=8-1

If you'd be so kind, I'll be sure to say I knew you when. :-)

Thank you, as ever, for your support, encouragement and business.

-Martin (Mordechi) Bodek

My blog: http://www.martinbodek.com
My site: http://www.theknish.com/
My column: http://www.jewishworldreview.com/1110/bodek2.php3
My finest: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/apr/06/mean-regs-and-scam/
My books: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom

Results of the 2nd Annual JRunners Health Awareness 5k+ Run

2011-12-07T21:27:00.001-05:00

Results of the 2^nd Annual JRunners Health Awareness 5k+ Run

Martin Bodek

JRunners continues to blaze a path for itself via various races and events. The club has received much attention for its preaching of fitness in the Jewish community and strong ties to important organizations within. They have raised awareness for ALS and benefited the Ohr Meir organization via their annual Brooklyn-to-Catskills relay races. They have rescued Our Place from folding via a fundraising race held earlier this year in Prospect Park. On December 4, 2011 no cause was invoked other than the importance of one’s, and of others’, physical wellbeing

On a seasonably ridiculous, comfortable and sunny spring morning in the middle of winter, 126 men and 128 women toed the line for the second edition of the Health Awareness Run.

Before the start, the runner’s village was abuzz with reminiscing friends who hadn’t seen each other in hours and runners who hailed from locales as far away as Brooklyn, NY.

This reporter jests, of course. In truth, large family contingents turned out to run with one another and support each other. There were parents and children (Balassiano, Silk, Bryski, Tepler, Wicentowsky), husbands and wives (Mittel, Zidile, Pupko), siblings (Ovits, Kaminetsky, Bressler, Bodek) galore.Four states and two countries were represented.

At the start the runners sized each other up, trying to determine their ultimate placement. As runners compared their recent mileage and times, it was learned that Yaakov Bressler had recently been injured, but he cloned himself, called his doppelganger “Moshe,” wound him up and set him loose for an experiment in the field. While the runners pondered this and socially fumbled by being unclear when to shake hands and bump fists, the elites snuck in from the sidelines and took position in the front, leaving runners possessed of serious hopes and dreams with shattered illusions instead. However, our man on the inside, Mark Izhak, serving as emcee of the event, cleverly invited the 200k participants to stand forward of the starting line, so everything was evened out at the start, at least for five seconds.

For the men’s race, the start was fast, very fast. Fast runners were behind in the pack and slow runners were in the front. It took about a mile and a half for the natural sorting to occur. Following that process, The Hill performed further sorting.

Once the sorting was done, the top 3 males completed the Prospect Park loop, without being clobbered by whizzing bikes, in the following order:

1 Chris Decamps, 29, 18:21, 5:29/M

2 Steven Rosenbaum, 33, 19:24, 5:47/M

3 Hector Sevilla, 44, 19:58, 5:58/M

Age group victors were:

1-3: Mordechai Dov Silk

4-12: Yoel Tepler

13-19: Moshe Bressler

20-29: Moshie Gamss

30-39: Yitzchok Mittel

40-49: Sender Krutov

50-59: Tom Tobin

60-69: Sholom Bryski

70-79: Michael Schenkman

Barefoot: Bill Ades

For the women’s race, the top 3 ladies completed their loop as follows:

1 Stephanie Pere, 22, 22:15, 6:39/M

2 Rachel Mitel, 28, 25:10, 7:31/M

3 Sally Shatzlles, 30, 25:29, 7:36/M

Age group champions were:

4-12: Tova Blau

13-19: Millie Marcus

20-29: Perrie Briskin

30-39: Judith Sambol

40-49: Baila Miller

50-59: Karen Stevenson

60-69: Elaine Agassi

Barefoot: that’ll be the day.

Once the handsome trophies and well-earned medals were handed out to the deserving recipients, the following were handed out in an alternative universe that may one day successfully fuse with ours:

The Cotton Eyed Joe Where Did You Come From? Award: Chris Decamps – Chris was one of the obvious-on-sight elites who lined up at the start and looked he meant business. He absolutely laid down the law and smoked his competition by a minute and three seconds. He had to come from somewhere, so we looked him up on athlinks.com. He owns a 4:36 mile and a 1:22:00 half marathon. Whoa.

The Oscar the Grouch Talking Trash Award: Yitzy Mittel – Yitzy is a humble fellow, righteous in his generation. His fellow JRunners? Not so much. Recently some of the Brooklynites have taken up verbal arms against their fellow Passaicites. Some argue it was the argue way around. While they quibble, Yitzy collects victories. He was first of all JRunners, beating the next Brooklynite by 28 seconds.

The Secretariat 31 Lengths Award: Stephanie Pere - Stephanie destroyed her competition in the women’s race and strode across the finish line in 22:15, fully two minutes and fifty-five seconds over second place. Wow.

The Lindsay Lohan Freaky Friday Award: Yaakov & Moshe Bressler – As mentioned above, Yaakov cloned himself following an injury and called his monster “Moshe.” Then “Moshe” won his age group! Yaakov claimed his creation is designed to be a biker. To this we say: Moshe, drop the bike. It’s only good for slamming into pedestrians. Moshe & Yaakov, you can destroy the racecourses. We have foreseen this. It is your destiny! Join up, and together, you can rule the road as brother and brother! Come with us. It is the only way.

The Phelps over Cavic Hairsbreadth Award: Moishie Gamss – Moishie has made a habit of coming from behind in the late stages of races to overtake his competition. He did it in the relay race, he did it at the S.I. Half, and he did it at this run, beating the man he had targeted by one tenth of a second. You cannot do anything in one tenth of a second. The only other thing possible is for Trent Tucker to bury a three.

The Brangelina Power Couples Award: Yitzy & Rachel Mittel/Steven Rosenbaum & Judith Sambol – Yachel? Ritzy? Whatever you want to call them, Rachel’s second place finish among the girls and Yitzy’s fourth place finish among the boys established the Mittels as a force to be reckoned with. They have children, if they care to run, watch out! As for Sudith/Jeven, their positions were interposed with Steven placing second and Judith fourth. An exact draw with the Mittels! How cool is that!

The Methusela Award: Michael Schenkman and Elaine Agassi – Michael and Elaine were our most senior finishers, and how old they are is none of your business, thank you very much.

The Borat Sagdiyev Great Success! Award: Michael Diamanantstein – Shia Itzowitz, sporting a “Bodie for President” t-shirt (I guess Herman Cain left the slot open), convinced Michael to join the race. He signed up with ten minutes to go before showtime and completed the race at a 9:22 clip. He did not even think he would finish. Hey Michael, y’all come back now, y’hear?

The Zeh Hakooten Goodel Yeeyeh Award: Mordechai Dov Silk – MDS has been on earth for all of two years, but proudly strode to the finish line, beaming all the way with his oversized t-shirt, with his four year old brother, Tuli. Papa Mitch couldn’t be prouder as he scooped them. We expect big things from the little Silk-worms.

The Mary Tyler Moore Light Up the World with Her (Uh, His) Smile Award: David Balassiano – There were several parents running with their children in this race, but absolutely none was prouder, smiled wider, or was more effusive in his praise than David was for his son Joseph, saying, “I cannot describe how proud I was of my son for running this with me. SO proud of him. Times are different. My mom used to push me to eat a second plate. Now I push my children to be active and healthy and I am glad I can do these kinds of things with them.”

JRunners mission accomplished.

Martin Bodek writes books for a non-living: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom. Please buy them, as JRunners Beat Reporter is even a worse non-living.

My 17th Marathon Run

2011-11-23T09:36:00.001-05:00

My 17th Marathon Run
by
Martin Bodek

Waitaminnit, you must be asking yourself, didn’t I just run my 16th marathon? What am I doing running a 17th two weeks later? Have I completely lost my mind?
The answer to each of the above questions is, well, yes. How this came to be might be a little more interesting.
For a long while, I’ve fantasized about running an ultra (any distance run longer than 26.2 miles, which is marathon distance), so I scheduled an off day for 11/21/11, mapped out a 50k course in my neighborhood, invited several friends and got practically no interest. No biggie. I’d go it alone.
Then my JRunners brothers got rabid about participation in the inaugural Brooklyn Marathon, told me to dump the ultra and join them for the race. I couldn’t turn them down, and, knowing the toughness of the course, I decided to take it easy for the race and if anything was left in the tank, to add a few miles via the lower loop of the park.
I didn’t want to burden my wife with dedicating yet another whole day chasing after me on a race course, so I took my older two kinderlach to Brooklyn with me on Motzei Shabbos to stay overnight at my mom’s, and my wife stayed behind with our little one.
I got a full night’s sleep, went potty three times in the morning, klutzed around until tallis/tefillin time, munched a light breakfast and made it out to Prospect Park at 6:30 AM. This was early enough to realize that the park’s maps showing where Center Drive is – the start of the race – was inaccurate. I wandered for a half hour until I could orient myself in the proper direction. When I finally found the start area, the first thing I noticed was that there were no porta-potties, and I had another need left in me. I parked myself under a tree, and my fellow JRunners joined me one by one (there were 17 of us among 262 [26.2! ha!] finishers, 6.4% of the field! We saturated it better than Chai Lifeline does Miami!). As we schmoozed, we each realized that we had no goals, and no idea how things would turn out for us, as so many of us had already run the New York City Marathon just two weeks before.
At 7:44 AM, the porta-potties arrived, and the flatbed driver didn’t even have a chance to get them off his truck before everyone bum-rushed the bathrooms. I made one more use of the privy and I was good to go.
Two minutes before the race, a reporter ambled over and interviewed me and my fellas – including my new best friend barefoot runner. My money quote ended up in her article. Check it out:
http://parkslope.patch.com/articles/hometown-pride-at-inaugural-brooklyn-marathon.
The race started 15 minutes late, as expected, following announcements from the organizer through a bullhorn that was pointed in the wrong direction, a national anthem that could not be heard until the singer said, “brave,” and the most confusing race directions you’ve ever heard in your life. The race was two loops around the lower half of the park, six loops around the whole park and one last loops around the middle. Yeah, no one’ll get confused.
So we were off, and I really had no idea how things would work out for me, considering the pratfall disaster that was my NYC Marathon experience. I had wrenched my left knee and I had no idea if it would flare up, or tell me to quite five miles in. We’d see. I had one goal though, and that was: if everything is okay, then even though this would be a much, much tougher course, I had to come in at a faster time than my NYC time.
So here’s how my day went:

Mile 1: The start is spent dodging an incredibly disgusting amount of moosepoop. Once past that point, however, it’s the smoothest sailing marathon start I’ve ever experienced. I get to the start line in fifteen seconds. Already it’s worlds apart from NYC. I have all the space in the world, and the terrain is incredibly forgiving on my feet. I am immediately in a good mood, coasting along, schmoozing with my JRunners compadres, and clearing the first mile in 8:21. A very, very good start.

Mile 2: More pleasantry in my wide open space. More how-do-you-dos with my homeys. I clear it in 8:26. Nice and steady and loving it. Though, upon looping past the start area, it can clearly be determined that some runners with Asics and Skechers footwear did not successfully circumvent the elephantpoop.

Mile 3: I enjoy so much of my own space, and nestle in so nicely with my fellow runners, and run so steadily and comfortably that pretty much nobody passes me for an entire mile, and I don’t pass anyone else. That’s how comfortable we all are. Towards the end of the mile though, I do pass one person with a small sign on his back that says, “3:45 unofficial Brooklyn Marathon pacer.” Well hey, I’m faster than he is! A good day so far! I clear it in 8:10. Peachy keen jellybean. (two points if you get the reference)

Mile 4: Uh oh, my left knee hurts a bit. Hmmm, seems manageable for now, but we’ll see. I know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. Looping past the dinopoop again, I notice an Adidaswearer apparently wasn’t so lucky. Another relaxed 8:20 mile in the books.

Mile 5: Totally taking it easy and 7:48. Whoa, that’s a bit TOO fast! I try to slow down a bit, but it doesn’t work. Anything slower is crawling. Cool that I’m completely relaxed, yet still zipping along. This course is great!

Mile 6: Another 8:20, and we’re still happening along, but uh oh, here comes The Hill. I’m going to climb it six times, and I intend to take it very, very easy. I’m not trying to set world records here, just trying to finish the race. I’m not wearing my Superman t-shirt today (lots of people asked me about that) because I’m feeling very, very mortal. I’m not Kal-el this morning. I’m just Clark Kent.

Mile 7: The Hill. Eaaaaaaaaaaaaasy does it, with a very measured pace. I find two clusters of very energetic people here shouting out my bib number (32) and my name (across my chest). They help me up and over and I clear it in 8:58. Whoa, relatively fast, and I took it easy. Only five more assaults to go! At this point, I’m well ahead of my marathon PR (4:10), as I’d have to average 9:09 for 4:00 and this 8:58 was my slowest mile. Whoa.

Mile 8: I’m cruising happily along, scouting the spot where my family should be a bit later in my run, and who shows up? Shia! He promised to join me for a bit and he was true to his word. Nice to have the company. He’s got fruit roll-ups and Gatorade in a bag he stashed in the park further up ahead and asks if I’d like some. Sure I want some! So he zips ahead with intent to double back to me and supply me with some nourishment. 8:40 for the mile. Steady as a rock.

Mile 9: Shia comes running back from where he placed his bag, cursing under his breath with various Peter Griffin-esque “Ye bastid” bromides because some lowlife has stolen his bag! In it was food for me and other JRunners, a change of clothes because he has to zip off to Yeshiva afterwards and some personal effects. Uh oh, quite a bind he’s in! He continues to run with me though, as we mull over what to do about his clothing situation.

Mile 10: Alrighty, one more time up The Hill, but before that point, I need some water. But the water stop is too far ahead. Conveniently, this park is filled with easily-spottable water fountains. They’ll do just fine. The clutch of supportive groups are still assembled at the top of the hill, still hollering my name and number. Nice and easy I go, up and over the hill. I only have to do that four more times.

Mile 11: I begin munching on the gels in my shorts to stave off “The Wall.” I’ve made great strides with this and intend to continue the trend. Uh oh, my left knee hurts a bit. Not enough to slow me down, but enough to worry me just a wee bit more than previously.

Mile 12: Shia takes leaves of me to cut back across mid-park to the start line, thinking perhaps some good Samaritan spotted the bag in the park and brought it back to the baggage area. It’s the only prayer he’s got. I continue cruising along, but my left knee is beginning to bark at me a bit harder. I slow things down to 9:30 pace, relax a little more and my knee seems to respond.

Mile 13: As I approach The Hill once more, my buddy Matt pulls up behind me. He’s got his own left knee in a wrap, and I ask him how he manages the pain. He says to take it easy. Exactly what I’m doing, I dial it way back to 10:00 per mile and the pain is alleviated again. I’m still at PR pace, but I’m beginning to worry. Absolutely nothing else hurts, it’s just this left knee. I hit the halfway point at about 1:56, which is three minutes faster than my split at NYC. It puts me in good spirits, and I do The Hill mile in slightly under 10:00. I do some math: If I was sub-9 for the first half and can only do 10s for the last half, I’d still challenge my PR. Interesting!

Mile 14: Pain-free sub 10:00 coming off The Hill, munching on my gels, as “The Wall” is six miles away. Only three more times over that hill.

Mile 15: Shia pops out again at Center Drive. He couldn’t find his bag. Oy, poor guy. His last recourse is to check the area where he left it. Maybe somebody plopped it down somewhere, moved it, something, anything. I’m a bit slow for the moment with my 10s, so he scoots ahead of me for some reconnoitering. A few minutes later he comes running back to me, bag in hand! Everything is accounted for in the bag save for the food. A noble thief! He took what he needed and plopped the bag down for retrieval. Shia is happy, but now he’s running with a big bag of clothes alongside me, which is kinda awkward. Also along this stretch, I bump into my man David and we run a bit with him. More great company! I check again for my family. Not there. Maybe next pass. I’ll be back.

Mile 16: Smooth-sailing now, holding steady, discussing movies, TV and books with Shia. He does a good Peter Griffin impression. I do a good Cartman, but not 16 miles into a marathon. He’ll have to hear it later. According to him, I have to read a book called The Immortal Game. Will do! Uh oh, here comes The Hill again.

Mile 17: My “32” cheering squads still have their pep up. At the top of the hill a nice lady is handing out Twizzlers! Yes I’ll have some! This will make up for my missing Twizzlers guy at the NYC Marathon. Yum! Midway through the mile, I spot my family! Woohoo! My mom, Aba, sister, niece and my little girl and boy are in the sidelines, waving signs. I dodge whizzing bicycles to make it to them, give my kiddies kissies, and scarf down oranges, Powerade, and pizza. Man, there is nothing like pizza 17 miles into a footrace. Ironically, I get the pizza at nearly the exact same mileage point during NYC, when I get it from my brother-in-law. My kiddies are adorable and shy, and very eager to get back to the playground. I tell my mom I’ll be back again in about 30 minutes. The kids head off to the playground, and I – uh oh. My left knee is locked up. What’s going on? I can’t move it. Ow. Well, not really ow, just, oof, it feels like it’s in a vise. It’s encased. I can’t shake it loose. Oh man.

Mile 18: I decide to take it slow. My aba joins me, as he wants to do a circuit around the park to prep for the JRunners Health Awareness Run on 12/4 (plug!) After about a quarter mile, I try to run again, but it’s tough going. No fair, everything else feels so good, but this knee is locked. No PR today, but I’ll finish.

Mile 19: I hobble through the mile, taking lots of breaks, stopping at the water fountains to stretch my left leg. I realize that stopping hurts most of all, and proceeding makes the hurt less. Again, it’s not a hurt, or a pain really. It’s just…sealed shut. Like my knee forgot how to bend. Keeping it in motion though, seems to be helping.

Mile 20: Shia takes leave of me at this point. He ran 9 miles alongside me and was great company. I’m alone now, though. So I’ll have to rely on my internal voice and external crowd to get me going. My knee loosens up a bit, but not all the way. Here comes The Hill again. Oh no, can I do it again? I text back and forth with my wife to distract me. It kinda works! At the top of the hill is my Twizzlers lady. She now has Pop ‘Ems! Oh, YUM!!! That’ll put a charge in my run, if anything will. Delish!

Mile 21: My left knee is feeling better as I keep moving. I realize as I’m coming off The Hill that I am completely not bored of the repeated circuits of the park. It is not monotonous at all, which is surprising to me, as I thought it would be. Instead, I find the familiarity of the course comforting. I’m getting to know its twists and turns, and frankly, I’m loving it. Know what I love even more? My family! Here they are again! My kids run towards me so fast that I get nervous about the zipping bikes. I bolt towards my kids so they don’t have a mishap. Me and my son run so fast towards each other, that when he meets me with his hands out, he pounds me in the nuts enough to knock the sails out of me. Oof! Easy, boy! You’ll find out this is not so pleasant! My mom tells me that she got worried when the 30 minutes passed and I wasn’t there, so she asked a fellow JRunner about my welfare, who said, “He’s back there with a knee injury.” Not something a momma wants to hear! More oranges and Powerade and bagel parts. It’s good to run on a full belly. The kids head off to the playground and ouch, my knee is stuck again. Arrrgh.

Mile 22: I pass the water stop at Center Drive. My fellow Vibramite (though not in public) Moishie is handing out water, which I gulp while lamenting that everything is working except for my left knee. I walk, I jog, I hobble, and stop stopping. Something about stopping isn’t working for me. I just kept on keeping on.

Mile 23: I psych myself for one final run up The Hill. Wow, I’ve done it five times already and this is the last one? Cool. As I approach, a supremely fit woman is running against the marathoning crowd shouting encouragement. Every inch of her is covered in clothing except for her sterling abs. As she passes me on the right, I overhear a women to my left saying to her friend, “Did you see that girl? She’s all, ‘Oh, look at me, I’m skinny and cheerful, go runners!’” Hyuk hyuk!

Mile 24: One last trip over The Hill. I come across my energetic “32” cheering squads again and thank them for their love and support. They appreciate my appreciation and holler me up and over. My Twizzlers/Pop ‘Ems lady is nowhere to be seen. Thank you, Twizzlers/Pop ‘Ems lady for your Twizzlers and Pop ‘Ems! Just before the end of the mile, my left knee unlocks. Just like that. I’m free, and suddenly I’m running again and feeling very, very good. Perhaps stopping the stopping helped me and keeping it in motion is what I needed. Wow, it feels great to run again unencumbered.

Mile 25: I pass the Center Drive water stop again. Somebody is offering brownies. Brownies? Did somebody say brownies? Mmmm, brownies. But oh no, they’re homemade! Iyagh! Okay, mental note to ask my family for brownies during my next marathon. Oh man, that would hit the spot. Moishie’s still handing out water. Off I go for the stretch run, in good spirits. My left knee is still functioning normally and I’m running confidently.

Mile 26: At the mile 25 sign, I check my GPS. I have to beat my NYC time and it’s going to be close. Fortunately, my legs are now in working order, so I’m going to give it my best shot. Oy, if only my legs worked this well for miles 17-24, but no regrets. They’re working now, and that’s all I can ask for. For the first time in nine miles, I actually pass runners as I barrel towards the finish line.

Mile 26.2: I look up as I approach the finish line. I’m going to beat my NYC time. And who do I see just past the finish line waiting for me? My kiddies! I must have smiled a smile wider than the one fixed to my face at my vort so many years ago. I cross the finish line in a time that’s 46 seconds faster than NYC. I accomplished my goal. I get my gorgeous medal. I stop and pose for pictures with my kinderlach. OH, it’s great to see them! What’s not so great is that my leg has locked up. Like I said earlier, I know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. I have to fold ‘em. There won’t be an ultra today. There will be one some other time, but I need to rest this knee. I’m thrilled that absolutely nothing else hurts. I think it’s indeed a residual flareup from the spill I took at NYC. I can’t rest it too much, though. I intend to put in a good performance at the JRunners Health Awareness Run on 12/4 (another plug!). For now, I’ve got some daddy duties: my kids need lunch and I’ve got to get my daughter to a birthday party.

Two mornings after: I wake up and find that my knee is at about 82%, but the rest of me – and I do mean every other square inch – is 99.4%. There’s no muscle fatigue, no hip or ankle pain. My right knee is solid. I feel wonderful. I just need to be responsible with my left knee, build its strength back up. There are more marathons in me (17 is just the beginning), more races to run (157 is just getting warmed up), and I’ve got an ultra I need to put in my rearview mirror (1 is the best way to start).

My First Roast

2011-11-14T12:12:00.000-05:00

I was asked to participate in a friend's roast, and was delighted with the opportunity! I hope I've acquitted myself with my first go at the concept. If you think I've done well, hey, I do wedding and bar mitzvahs. Writing material for roasts is HARD, but FUN!:

Good evening everyone, it's a pleasure to be here this evening roasting our friend Yaakov. It's really nice that his wife invited so many of his close friends. Looking around, it's obvious though, that none of them accepted the invitation.

So she asked me to say some nice things about her husband. But ya know, I'd rather tell the truth.

But what can you say about a man who's admired, revered and loved by everyone? I can start by saying he's not the man we're honoring tonight. Instead, we're roasting Yaakov.

I'm at a disadvantage though, as most everyone here knew Yaakov from back in the day, whereas I only know him as an excellently-coiffed metaphor-spouting Star Wars-geeking partially-whipped whiskey-sucking superskinny crybaby. Actually, upon further review, this seems to be the same person he was back in the day, except then he was called Jake. Ooh, big difference.

Let's start with the easy target. Look at this guy. Ever seen anybody skinnier?

Yaakov is so skinny, his nipples touch.

He is so skinny, his pajamas have one stripe.

He is so skinny, C3P0 uses a Yaakov costume as a Purim outfit.

He is so skinny, people think he struggles with Bulimia - but I think he's pretty good at it.

let's switch to something a bit more controversial, shall we? Yaakov likes his whiskey, a lot.

His doctor recently found traces of blood in his alcohol stream.

I actually thought of doing this roast as Foster Brooks, but I'd probably appear sober to Yaakov.

He drinks so much, when alcohol does its taxes, it lists him as a dependent.

For his new job, he had to provide a urine sample. There was an olive in it.

His liver is probably so black, it had sex with Lisa Lampanelli.

And is there a shaila about his geekiness?

Yaakov is such a geek that he's probably the only person in this room who knows that 00101010 is the answer to the most profound question in the universe.

He's such a geek, DOS was his favorite toy as a child.

But what really defines our guest of honor is what a crybaby he is. He cries during kol na'arim, he cries when the space shuttle launches, he cries when he makes speeches, he cries when he can't keep up with Elmore Leonard's books, he cries when Threadsy goes out of business, and of course, he cries at the thought of becoming shul president.

I mean, what do you call a man this dedicated to his shul, to his family, to his craft? You call him Pinny. (our shul president)

I kid, of course. We only roast the ones we love. Tonight, we've proven the exception to that rule.

But seriously, our man Yaakov is the king of metaphors, which is worth mentioning as I close, because when the chips are down and the stakes are high and it's the bottom of the ninth and you need to win one for the gipper and you need someone who's got your back and won't let you down and it's do or die and it's now or never and your back is to the wall and you're running on empty and the gauntlet's thrown down and you need all hands on deck and the whole nine yards and there's no turning back and there's no way out and the going gets tough, who you gonna call? Duh, you call my wife, but Yaakov's a good backup.

In truth, Yaakov, you're a consummate professional, a devoted husband, a doting daddy, a great vice president, a helluva programmer, an excellent friend and - please don't cry on me - an amazing legacy for your father.

Happy 40th birthday, my friend, ad meah v'esrim.

My (bitter)Sweet 16th Marathon Run

2011-11-08T21:54:00.000-05:00

My (bitter)Sweet 16^th Marathon Run

Martin Bodek

There are days when you wake up in the morning, and you feel real good, and you roll out of bed and you’re in a good mood, and you brush your teeth and comb your hair (in my instance, whatever’s left of it) and you feel right, and you get dressed and you practically whistle, and breakfast is yummy and you go out for a race and smash a PR and everything is well with the world.

Then there are days when everything is shifted a bit, when you’ve got some rust on you, and you don’t like what the scale says as a result of six days of holiday fressing combined with a taper, and when you head out for that run, you get punished with a hard, violent lesson.

My 16^th marathon run – my 14^th NYC – was the latter. The lesson: you do not wear Vibrams for the NYC Marathon. I paid for that lesson in pain. Lots of it.

I smashed my marathon PR last year by 14 minutes, finishing in 4:10. I rejoiced (the pictures are great!), and immediately thereafter resolved to find an edge for next year. One week later, I purchased the Vibram Five-fingers and found that edge, combined with a 20 lb weight loss over two years. I published an article praising the Vibrams and detailing their proper breaking-in for Trail Runner Magazine. Through 2011, until this year’s marathon, I had run 14 races and PRed in 11 of them through cold and rain and rough terrain.

Little did I know that the course of the NYC Marathon would prove the most brutally punishing terrain of them all.

We begin with my alarm going off.

4:00 AM: My alarm buzzes me awake, and I’m amazed to have actually caught some shuteye after getting a good nap in the afternoon and dealing with a nervous and agitated stomach. I don by usual marathon outfit – Superman T (with the symbol in the shape of a magen david), red shorts with gobs of nutrition, minor first-aid, salt packets and cash in the pockets lined across the back, Vibrams, arm warmers, gloves, kippa (I haven’t had a haircut for two months and still barely have enough for it to stick to!), my bib with a TheKnish.com sticker, Livestrong cancer bracelet, 4:00 and 4:10 pace bracelets, “14^th NYC” sticker on my arm, JRunners tattoos on my calves, a “Martin” sign on my chest, a sign that says, “If I’m walking, pat my back, thanks!” on my upper back and a sign that says, “’The main thing is to have no fear at all.’ – Rebbe Nachman” on my lower back. I calm my nerves for a few minutes by writing a page for the novel I’m working on while I partake in NaNoWriMo (http://www.nanowrimo.org, check it out), have some light breakfast, and I’ms ready to rock.

5:30 AM: My father-in-law drives me out to the Meadowlands, where, for the umpteenth time, absolutely no signs are available to show us where to go. I find the buses only because I know where they are. Why they can’t have the buses in a spot viewable from the major highway that passes by, I have no idea, but I will complain again. I do find my favorite seat, all the way back left (perfect for zoning out) and enjoy the bumpy, fishtailing ride as the sun rises. Before the bus comes to a full stop I hit the yellow strip indicating a passenger would like to get off at the next stop. Because I’m silly like that.

7:30 AM: After my 3^rd of 5 bathroom trips for the morning and a scouting-out of my corral, I join the International Marathon Minyan, co-hosted by my JRunners brothers with some nice, new amenities. I hang around for the 2^nd minyan as well, chilling in the risen sun and thawing out my frozen feet. The organizers of the Jerusalem Marathon are there. I kibbitz with them and say that if they’d cover my plane ticket, I’d be there in a heartbeat. It’s merely freezing at the staging area, which means it’s the warmest I’ve ever been at the start. It’s been bone-chilling and even marrow-chilling, but it’s just right for the start. I wouldn’t have minded it colder. I hang out with my Bro Eli Friedman (3:59 on his first marathon try!). He is freezing to death, one foot from me, while I feel felt balmy and comfortable. Go figure.

9:15 AM: I enter my corral, sit down to rest my legs and sip some water and think about my wife and kids, who I didn’t see last year because said wife gave birth to said youngest child just five days before the marathon. I’m always amazed when women who’ve just given birth show up at their son’s brissim, but I don’t think I’d expect them to holler at runners on a marathon course just a few days after giving birth. When we’re ushered out of the corral towards the start, I Facebook that my race is dedicated to my children, and that I’d make them proud. While we wait in position before the start line, I – yet again – experience some German racism. Well, maybe not racism, but certainly hate-ism, or run-ism, what have you. You decide: Behind me I hear some of them talking, fully understanding what they’re saying because I speak Yiddish. Suddenly one says to the other to check out the sign on my back. Now his response doesn’t even need an understanding of German or Yiddish to interpret, because it basically sounds like this: “Err shtinkin in laufen, untz klappen eim un backen der gantzen vaygen.” Didja get that? I ignore it, but I think that’s the last time I do. Anyway, just before the start, I take a last look at my kiddies on my phone and the pre-race chizuk from my wife and it elates my mood.

10:10 AM: P’toom! The cannon fires and we’re off.

Mile 1: I’m on the lower level this year. Good for faster starts and two miles free of the sun, bad for clothing being tossed off from the upper level and the urinators who are unmindful of those below. My goal is to run the first half at an 8:00 MPH clip and slow gradually for the 2^nd half and perhaps claim another PR. It takes me 3:06 to get to the start line and I finish the first mile in 9:37, which is very, very nice. We can start some 8s from here. I notice a lot of T-shirts bragging about 15+ marathon finishes and a lot more saying the run is dedicated to a brother or sister or son or daughter or father or mother killed on 9/11. So many.

Mile 2: Though there’s quite a crowd, the pace picks up. The urinators from my corral begin their work. The men go against the wall of the Verrazzano bridge, the women go just behind the concrete barriers separating the road from the grass. Such a perfect setup. There’s a guy running with a Giants helmet. I just can’t understand why a person would run with something that induces hardship. Yes, I’m dressed like Superman, but it contributes to my ability to run, as opposed to detracting from it. I finish the second mile in 8:25. Great, now let’s get those 8s.

Mile 3: Did I say 8s? How am I supposed to do that with this crowd? Man, there are an awful lot of people around me, and I can’t break free. The Brooklyn energy begins, with lots of hootin’ and hollerin’ and cowbells. I gotta have more cowbell! The route here is new, so it’s nice to experience a few different parts before re-joining the familiar, which – when it happens – frustrates the heck out of me! At approximately mile 3.6, the course rejoins the throng of runners, and there is NO room to maneuver. None. I’m trapped. I’m forced to go at the speed of those around me. There’s just no getting away. I’m hoping it will loosen up soon. I have another problem at the first water stop, which are now a block long. This means that my feet get positively soaked as I try to wend my way through the melee. It’s seriously uncomfortable. At 74^th and 4^th, I expect to see a co-worker of mine hanging out. I don’t see him, but one block later, I see someone holding up a sign with my co-workers’ name! Interesting! I see a little girl with a “Free hi fives” sticker stuck to her jacket. Free? I’ll take one! I finish the mile in about 9 minutes. Hey, that’ll still get me a PR, but I still want to break free of this crowd!

Mile 4: Did I say break free? There is no breaking free. I want to climb back to 8s but there’s little chance of that. The crowd is just too thick. At least I’m running steady 9s. I’ll make my peace with that for now, but sometime before Mile 10, I need me some 8s! Another water stop, and more foot sloshing. I run through a minefield of Gatorade trash, and my Vibrams get all sticky, then they get rinsed at the water stops. It’s starting to make me cranky, but if the liquids were reversed, I think I’d lose my mind! The signs people are holding up are a little grosser this year, such as “I think black toenails are sexy.”

Mile 4.7: Pit-stop 1. My mommy’s waiting for me with a tray, like she’s my concierge. Upon it are a salt bagel, sliced four ways, a Powerade bottle and four orange wedges. Just like I ordered. Now that’s service! My Aba is there and my sister Devorah and my old mailman Charlie with his wife. We take some pics, hand out hugs and kisses, and just before I depart, I notice some of my JRunner homeys there! Joseph Pancer, Shai Grabie, Sam Weisz and Yehuda Braunstein give me fives and I’m on my way. Hoo-ha!

Mile 5: Still traveling at 9s with the immovable phalanx. It feels like all 47,000 runners are crowding me, and I’m liking the idea of a two-day marathon more and more. The water stops are becoming grueling and aggravating. The signs are cleverer this year: “You are the 1%.” Heh, I like that.

Mile 5.2: Pit-stop 2. I spot my dad, rocking his Justin Timberlake hat real cool. My little twin sisters are there and my mum. Hugs and kisses all around (no need for food, I’m still munching the bagel I got a half mile ago!).

Mile 6: Okay, my feet are now officially annoyed by all their waterlogging, and I’m annoyed that I can’t break free from this pack of people. There is no loosening up that can be seen and no way to dodge the water deluge. I can’t mount the sidewalks and running in middle of the road is no help whatsoever. I can’t believe I have to deal with this for another 20 miles. It’s already clear that Vibrams do not work in a race of this magnitude. The crowd energy is still good though, and the signs are noticeably more profane: “There are two kinds of runners: those who run $#!T, and those we eat $#!T.” Okay!

Mile 7: I try to dodge the waterfall any way I can, I can’t. I try to pick up the pace to move away from this pack and only find myself at the same pace with another pack. I feel like I sped up to the rear of the next wave. I try to grab some food, including my usual banana spot just before the Prospect park Expressway, from the sidelines and keep missing. What’s going on here? My mojo’s all busted.

Mile 8: I suddenly and serendipitously realize why I’ve been having a problem getting away from the pack when I look behind me to get a look at the crowd. What do I see about 50 feet behind? The 4:00 pace team with their bobbing balloons. I then notice that the people I’ve been traveling with mostly have 4:00 pace team bibs on their backs. It seems I’ve been enveloped by the front end of the bubble surrounding the pacers! I speed up just a smidgen, break free of the bubble and whaddya know! A sub-9 mile for me! Woohoo! Just when I pull that off though, I run into a massive bottleneck, coupled with another waterstop, the combination of which practically grinds me to a halt. This is getting really, really annoying. However, I’m still around 9:00 per mile pace, slightly ahead of the 4:00 pace team and once I’m free, I’m cruising.

Mile 9: I stay ahead of the pace team and pull off another sub-9, and the streets are wider here, so I survive the rinsing and still get a cup of water. I’m still at sub-4 pace and I’m finally in a buoyant mood. It’s gonna be a good day.

Mile 10: We turn into Williamsburg, home of the Chasidic Froggers. They need to build these people bridges or tunnels, because they are going to cross whether the runners like it or not. A little girl offers me candy. I ask her in Yiddish if it’s kosher. She probably still has the look on her face that she gave me, which is: stunned and scared to death. I notice several chevra toting tallis bags. The time now is about 11:45 AM. If it was PM, I’d understand. Y’know, tefillin dates and all.

Mile 11: Bedford Playground is at about mile 10.5. There’s a bathroom here some runners take advantage of. There’s a black woman standing about 20 feet ahead of the bathroom hollering at runners that there’s a bathroom, which means runners have to double back to make use of it. Hey lady, you’re helpful, but how about moving 40 feet down so runners can veer directly into the facilities after you alert them to it? I can’t do all the thinking around here. At this point, the 4:00 pace team finally surges ahead of me. I stay far enough behind them to move out of the bubble and keep them in my sights, traveling at their speed. At this point, I scarf down the first of the gels in my shorts, to combat the “heaviness” feeling that’s plagued me in the past. I’ve determined that this was the proverbial “wall” due to improper nutrition. I’m doing what I can to avoid this.

Mile 12: We enter the hipster – or non-Frogger - portion of Williamsburg, where my man with the Twizzlers is hit or miss every year. I miss him this year. Darn. I’m still behind the 4:00 pace team, still at PR speed.

Mile 13: We enter Greenpoint, a bit of an uphill but a nice, wide expanse. Still with the 4:00 pace team, things are looking up, uh, literally. My feet have been mostly dry for a few miles because of the wider streets and pocket I’ve found for myself. Clever sign: “Chafe now, brag later.”

Mile 13.1: At the halfway point, the 4:00 pace team pulls away from me because of the hill up the Pulaksi Bridge ramp. I don’t want to overdo it, so I let them go. I’ll fall back and try to stay ahead of the 4:10 group, which would still be a PR for me. I hit halfway at 1:59:21. That isn’t bad considering the aggravation and annoyance my feet have been experiencing. Only 13.1 miles to go!

Mile 13.6: Pit-stop 5: Chabad of Long Island City is here! With hammer gels and water and a band and some of my fellow JRunners! Woohoo! My man Chanan Feldman is manning the station with some of his compatriots. They even capture a picture of me enjoying my hearty swig of elixir!: http://www.chabadlic.com/templates/photogallery_cdo/aid/1671872#!5841100 . Cool!

Mile 14: I can now see the Queensboro Bridge in the distance, begging me to take it on. I’ve conquered my fear of it through repeated attempts and have finally learned to manage it well. I fear it no longer, but I must have in mind to climb it with a measured pace, to run down the middle as others fall back and to the side and run steadily and surely. If I’m laboring, I use a mantra (“Up and over! Up an over!”). I got this.

Mile 15: At about mile 14.5, I turn the corner onto Crescent Street, which is the straightaway toward the Queensboro. I spot something I’ve never seen before, a frum guy fronting a rock band. Cool! Rock on! One block before I make the left turn up the bridge ramp, a woman on a megaphone yells, “Last water stop before the bridge! Last water stop before the bridge!” I grab an extra cup of water. I’m gonna need it. Just before we turn, I hear at least three runners mutter stuff along the lines of “Okay, here we go,” “Here goes nothing,” “Here we go again,” etc. This bridge really takes its toll on people, but I got this. I got this. As I approach the mile marker, at nearly the same exact spot where, years ago, some German bunghole whacked me on the back and sneered “Greeeeeeeeeeeeetings! From Gerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmany!,” the same thing happens again. This time it’s a couple of Netherlanders. How do I know they’re Netherlandites? Because I later google what it says on their t-shirts (“KiKa Kinderen Kankervrij” – yes, I memorized that), come up with a web site, run some phrases through Google Translate and learn that it’s Dutch. Well the first guy slams me in the back and says, “Nize shooooooooooooze!,” and the second guy slams me in the back and says, “Gooooood for youuuuuuuuuu!” So what is it with the Deutsch and the Dutch with their harsh backwhacking? Somebody clue me in.

Mile 16: I make it over the bridge hump with some good energy. My man Joe Herman passes me by. He has a goal of 3:58 today (he will eventually finish with a PR of 4:06, nice going!). It has long been a standard for me that if I run over the Queensboro Bridge, then I run the rest of the race, and if I don’t, then I don’t. As I come screaming down the ramp into the shouting throng of NYC, I’m in good spirits and feeling great, still holding on to my PR pace. And then-.

Mile 17: Disaster.It’s one thing to run with Vibrams over maybe ten straight feet of gravel, or hey, 100 feet in some circumstances, but they are NOT designed for four straight miles of punishment! I’ve driven down 1^st avenue before, and yes, walked with shoes across the street, but it only took wearing Vibrams to realize I was going to be in a world of hurt for a long, long stretch. I do my best to dodge the gravel, but there’s nowhere to dodge. I try to go into the crowd and run on the sidewalk, but there’s no room! There’s no escape! I contemplate running one avenue over and running parallel until The Bronx, but that’s insane. I just can’t get away from this. My feet are ground to hamburger patty, and I slowly fall off my PR pace. That’s not even the worst. I get a massive soaking at the next water stop. Runners partake a lot here because they’ve just run the water-less bridge and need to hydrate. I can’t escape two straight blocks of Powerade and water flooding of my toes. But wait, that’s not the worst! There’s a hydration zone a bit further up, where they hand out sponges! Sponges! Noooo! I’m forced to squish through three straight blocks of this. Oh GOSH the aggravation! Make it stop! Make it stop! Total misery!

Mile 17.7: Pit-stop 4: I get a short reprieve when I meet my brother-in-law and nephew. They’ve got Powerade for me and something very, very refreshing: pizza! Oh yum, it’s cold, but it’s delicious and it’s a sight for sore eyes, or a taste for sore feet, or however you want to remake that metaphor. Oh yum yum yum. I stay for a minute or two and explain my predicament. Knowing today is no PR, I have the time. I take another couple of swigs, rip off the crust, and I’m on my way, thankful for the oasis in the desert of pain.

Mile 18: The crowd is more sparse here, and I do some sidewalk running, but I’m forced back repeatedly to the road and it just hurts so bad, man, so bad. My feet just can’t take it anymore.

Mile 19: Oh G-d it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts. Get me off this avenue of agony. Get me the hell out of Manhattan. I need The Bronx. Get me to The Bronx, I need it now. My favorite-named band is along this stretch: Squirrels from Hell. I just love the name, amuses me every time. Hey, I could use the distraction.

Mile 20: I pull off to my annual “urinal,” the beams for the highways supporting the Triborough - oh excuse me, RFK - Bridge. I’m aware I have a yarmulke on my head so this spot allows me to do this discreetly. I’m grateful for every stop. My feet need the break. We head over the Willis Avenue Bridge and I get no reprieve whatsoever. The road has vertical grooves. I can run with the Vibrams over more common horizontal grooves, but verticals HURT! They HURT! Get me the hell off this bridge!!! I get off the bridge, finally, and pretty much the worst thing that could happen to me on a day like this, does: I slip, on a banana peel. You may take some time out of your day to laugh at my predicament. Done? Okay, so I slip on a banana peel and go kersplat on my elbows and face. I feel, at the same exact instant, like I’ve been pulled apart like Stretch Armstrong AND smashed into the Earth by the Fist of God. I wrench my left knee, my left hip and my right ankle. At this point, I’m just completely demoralized. However, I remember a lesson my father taught me when he used to chaperone me on Purim when I tended to drink a bit much. He constantly admonished me to never, under any circumstances, allow myself to be in such a state that I was wallowing in my own mess on the ground. I carry that lesson with me always, so I get up to my knees immediately, but can’t stand up right away. I’m in too much pain. I’m just so embarrassed at this moment. Here I am, SuperJew and all that, surrounded by a field of banana peels. Uch, just psychologically horrid. I do get up, but I’m not the same after that. My left leg isn’t working. I do a fair amount of walking, and the pats on the back start. Lots of them, with lots of encouragement.

Mile 21: I limp through The Bronx in agony. My left leg locking up, getting worse. Balance is getting to a be a challenge. For the first time ever in my marathon life, I have to pull over to rest my head on a fence and stretch out my legs and breathe, breathe, breathe before continuing on my broken, painful, agonizing path. I come back into Manhattan, where I pray to the living God that 5^th Avenue isn’t gravel-filled like 1^st. It isn’t. Oh, thank heaven. I don’t know what I would have done had it been the same. I think I would have curled up on a sidewalk in the fetal position and begged for my mommy, or at least beg someone to throw me on his shoulder and carry me to finish line. The irony? While I’m thinking that, that’s exactly what I see on a runner’s t-shirt: “Notice: if you should come across my lifeless body on the road, please drag to finish line.” Now that’s an awesome t-shirt! It gets me going. Sometimes you need little things like that to give you a charge. I can’t keep it up forever though, and I find myself getting a LOT of attention, both from runners behind me with their back-pats and words of encouragement, and the spectators shouting for Jewish Superman to fly already. I gobble up every piece of nourishment offered, and keep digging into my gels. Energy, energy, I need energy. I need my legs to stop hurting, I need to see my family, I need to finish this race. It’s hurting me so bad.

Mile 22: Ow ow ow. At Marcus Garvey Park, I pull over to the sidewalk and walk slowly in parallel with the runners. It’s peaceful here, a nice pocket of silence. I’m able to gather my thoughts together and invigorate myself a bit. I do what I can to combat my despair. I rejoin the crowd after a few blocks of walking in this fashion and then, I get what is probably the most refreshing thing I’ve ever had during a marathon: beer. A guy is standing on the sidelines with Coronas in hand, offering them to runners. I pull up to him and say, “You know what? I could really use that.” He says, “No problem, just two things: 1) Smile for the camera, and 2) Just try to keep your lips off the bottle. I know you runners know how to do that.” Dude, no problem. I smile and make it to someone’s Facebook page,I turn up the bottle and pour it down my throat. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that feels goooooooooooooooooooooood! I thank him profusely and as I rejoin the runners, one of them asks me if that was enjoyable. I said, “Man, that was the most amazing beer I’ve ever had.”

Mile 22.5: Pit-stop 5: My family! Woohoo! My wife is here with our three kiddies, all beaming and giving me different items. My 6-year old daughter gives me a bagel, my 4-year old son gives me Powerade, my none-of-your-business how old wife gives me my 1-year old son, and we smile for the camera. As with my last stop, I spend some time detailing my woes to my wife. There’s no PR today. I’ve got the time. I need the break. Because I can’t run anymore, it’ll also be a bit before I see them again. After kisses and hugs cheek-pinches all around, my trek of travail carries on.

Mile 23: It’s uphill here. I don’t need that. I really don’t. I munch my bagel and my gels and realize that hey, I actually have all the energy in the world, and I don’t have that heavy feeling. I avoided the wall successfully with proper nutrition and hydration. It’s just the punishment my legs and feet have taken that keep pushing me to the sidelines for temporary reprieves. I get so much encouragement from the crowd and the runners, but I’m an embarrassment to Krypton. Under this yellow sun, I should be much more powerful than this.

Mile 24: Somebody’s holding up a sign that says, “Quitting is not a f!@cking option.” Your damn right it isn’t. But that’s not what gets me going. What does is a sign that says, “I’m proud of you, complete stranger!” Why that gets me going, I don’t know, but it does. I need to get away from all these back slaps. It’s not that they annoy me or anything, it’s because my throat is dry from my saying “Thank you” so much. I feel obligated, ya know? I notice that every time a runner gives me a pat, and I give my thanks, that runner has a smile spread across his or her face, as if they’re grateful to have a fulfilled opportunity to provide requested encouragement. The youngest runner of the race, a kid named Louis, 18 years of age, passes me. Two runners are on either side of him holding a banner over him declaring that fact. Interesting. We enter Central Park.

Mile 25: Central Park has hills. Lots of them. It also has a lot people yelling at me to get it moving. I manage a bit, but not a lot. I try to look triumphant for the cameras (I am looking for a good replacement for my current Facebook pic), but after a while, I just can’t fake it anymore. My left legs hurts too much. I pull over at a bridge. A guy says, “Don’t jump! You gotta finish the race!” I assure him I’m not jumping, but I spend two minutes relaxing, watching the pedestrians go underneath, zoning out. I snap to and continue on my tour of torture.

Mile 26: I try to run, it doesn’t work. I try to hop, that doesn’t work either. I try to shuffle, nope, that’s not gonna work. A barefoot runner passes me. Holy hell, how do you do that, man? The “1/2 mile to go sign” pops up. I feel a resurgence of strength, and somehow I manage to right myself into something that might closely resemble running. I can tell it looks kind of like running because the back-pats stop. I enter the park, and graduate the “run” to a gait where I’m charging forward while dragging my left leg behind me like I’m a zombie from Night of the Living Good. It’s good enough, but I’m hurting so bad, I’m actually crying. I can’t remember the last time I actually cried from physical pain. But the crowd keeps yelling for me and I see the finish line in the distance, and – hold on, I’m getting emotional…there, all better – I’m closing the gap, and somehow I get my left leg under me and I’m able to actually run for the last tenth of a mile, and…

Mile 26.2: …I hit that finish line and exult like never, ever before. I did it. Through pain that I’ve never experienced before, I did it. But boy did I learn my lesson hard. I get my medal, I take my photo, I get and give hugs to strangers (I’m like that sometimes, particularly at the end of marathons), I shuffle with the crowd to the exit, meet my wife and kids, head home, have a junk-food dinner (My two week junk-food post-marathon binge will be reduced to two days, I’ve got an ultra scheduled, and I’ve got to stay in shape), put the kids to sleep, take an Epsom salt bath, write some more of my novel and head off to sleep. A good day. I just now have to rethink what I’m going to do about next year’s NYC.

The morning after: I wake up with the feeling that my legs were detached yesterday and re-attached all wrong this morning. I head into work though, it’s good to get the muscles moving and the blood flowing. I should be okay in three days, and I’m psyched for my ultra. Anyone wanna join me?

Hilchos Shkoyichgeben (AKA “Thanksgiving”)

2011-10-31T20:03:00.001-04:00

Originally published on Bangitout.com on 10/28/11:

http://www.bangitout.com/articles/viewarticle.php?a=3293

Hilchos Shkoyichgeben (AKA “Thanksgiving”)

The MaMaB (Martin M. Bodek)

Mesoyreh: One must engage in a seudah to celebrate the heiligkite of the yuntif. It’s brought down in the May Achuz that this heilig day is heiliger than Chalamoyd and Hoyshanarabba combined!

Lechatchilah: One should sit down for the meal after plag hamincha, but before tzais, so that it take place at a time when the original nayce of shkoyichgeben occurred.

Bidieved: If you are chasidish, you can have it any time during the day, because, as the SHL’A famously said, “We are not aware that there are clocks in heaven.”

Mehadrin: One should invite guests, wear a kittel, drink four cups of cranberry juice and remember to recite, “He oyf anya.”

Mehadrin min hemehadrin: One should wear a belt with a large buckle instead of a gartel and the children should all wear their hats with new Native American names, like “Shlepping Ausvorf” or “Pear Fresser.”

Mesoyreh: One must watch football to be truly yotzeh oynig yuntif.

Lechatchilah: One should be makpid to watch an entire football game, whether or not his wife needs help in the kitchen with loading the turkey in the oven.

Bidieved: If one can’t watch the entire game, one should at least be sure to watch one Geico and one Budweiser commercial, and will be soymich on poskim who hold that this is the minimum choyv to be mekayim the mitzvah.

Mehadrin: Tzadikim should go the football game itself, and it is mutar to pay one Shabbos meal’s worth to purchase the tickets.

Mehadrin min hamehadrin: One should jump from the stands and run down the 50-yard line. If security tackles you before you get to the field, you're not yoytzeh yidai chavoosoy.

III

Mesoyreh: One should be makdim all his neighbors besayfah poonim yoofis.

Lechatchilah: One should say “gobble gobble” to at least two different neighbors. This must be done by day, as the ness of shkoyichgeben happened during the day.

Bidieved: If one is tired from shlepping the turkey all the way from the store, into the car, up the steps, onto the counter, one is allowed to say “gobble” to one neighbor.

Mehadrin: One should insert “gobble” into his sentences like the Smurfs put “smurf” into their sentences.

Mehadrin min hamehadrin: One should say nothing but “gobble” all day, while bobbing his head back and forth, waddling and birthing turkey eggs.

Mesoyreh: The Korban Turkey should be eaten on the last Thursday of choydish November.

Lechatchilah: One should eat turkey.

Bidieved: If one is too poor to eat turkey, one should sell his wife’s jewelry to afford it. If one could never afford jewelry for his wife, one may sell his children into child labor until he has enough earning to buy a turkey. If one has no children, he may enslave his wife. If one’s wife is too weak to apply rivets to cars coming off the assembly line, one may substitute chicken.

Mehadrin: One should have turkey with Wild Turkey.

Mehadrin min hamehadrin: One should have turkey with Wild Turkey while running a local Turkey Trot, acting like a turkey, and at the end of the seudah, singing “L’shoonoo haboo b’Turkey!”

Mesoyreh: One should partake in a parade to be yoytzeh the concept of “Seesee v’simchee.”

Lechatchilah: One should sit down in front of his monitor with his wife and children with hot chocolate in everyone’s hands.

Bidieved: One may leave the room to do his usual morning learning, but his wife must be certain to call him back in to see all the good parts.

Mehadrin: One should sit on the couch from beginning to end, with a bedpan if necessary, to be sure to hear every word. If one misses a word of the broadcast, one may visit his shaygitz secular neighbors to review the broadcast on the treifineh yaytzer horah that is called the DVR, loy oolayknee.

Mehadrin min hamehadrin: Equal s’char is given to those who work on themselves all year to be able to watch the Rockettes without succumbing to hirhurim and to those who look away every time they show up, but are still careful to hear every word.

Mesoyreh: It says in parshas Vayiglach that one should eat the seasonal harvest foods on yom nutnimtoda.

Lechatchilah: One should consume turkey, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, gravy and pumpkin pie.

Bidieved: If one is already poor from buying Chanukah gifts, one may be lenient and consume pigeon, yams, cranberry juice, zaft from a gefilte fish jar, and whatever the shaygitz neighbors left over from their Halloween pumpkin carvings.

Mehadrin: One should use the turkey used for kaporos shloogin and shechted by a chasidishe kohen, sweetened sweet potatoes, cranberry peach mango juice, galleh and pie slung into his stomach from a punkin chunkin machine.

Mehadrin min hamehadrin: One should do all this while dressed like a native american pilgrim and pardoning the turkey while watching football on his monitor, the parade though his neighbor’s window, The Discovery Channel’s Punkin Chunkin on picture-in-picture, while saying “gobble gobble” to the neighbors, who are now calling the cops because the guy next door is seriously unstable.

Martin Bodek is co-founder of TheKnish.com, beat reporter for Jrunners.org, surname columnist for Jewishworldreview.com and proud proprietor of his own new bookstore. Browse around!: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom

Grand Opening of My New Store!

2011-10-26T09:11:00.002-04:00

Okay fine, it's not a STORE store, it's a virtual store. And alright, it's not a general store, it's just a l'il ol' bookstore. And nu, it's not really a full bookstore, it's actually one shelf. And whaddyagonnado, it's not even a full shelf, it's just two books. But hey, I gotta start somewhere, right? And hopefully, I'll be adding to that shelf in the near future.

So please drop by new bookstore - er, shelf, and browse around (which is easy to do, considering the amount of selections):

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom

To celebrate my grand opening, I'm offering both books at 50% off for a limited time (also, until 10/28, "BURIED305" gets you another 25% off).

I've also set up a sister store on Amazon. This is where you can purchase Kindle versions of my books, see my book-related tweets and be apprised of my book reading events (G-d willing soon speedily in our days) if that suits your fancy:

http://www.amazon.com/Martin-Bodek/e/B004GAVBZ8/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1319586524&sr=8-1

Thank you, as always, for your interest.

-Martin Bodek

My blog: http://www.martinbodek.com/
My site: http://www.theknish.com/
My column: http://www.jewishworldreview.com/1110/bodek2.php3 My finest: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/apr/06/mean-regs-and-scam/
My books: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/mbodekatgmaildotcom

The 2nd Annual JRunners S.I Minyan - Oh, and Half Marathon Too

2011-10-10T19:39:00.001-04:00

The 2nd Annual JRunners S.I Minyan - Oh, and Half Marathon Too
by
Martin Bodek

It promised to be a hot, hot challenging race. While other runners prepared with several heat-acclimation techniques, the JRunners tried an alternative tactic: fasting for 25 hours the day before the race. It seems to have paid off, as several of the 24-strong field set PRs and some 1/2-marathon virgins put in some excellent times.

It was still rather cool as the minyan got underway, but as the day rose, the winds died, the sun got hotter, the ezras nashim got more chatty, and at race time it was already somewhere around balmy. It was going to be tough going.

What's a JRunner if not tough? All of us came back in one piece in the following order:

Gamss Moishie M26 BROOKLYN NY 1:31:01 6:57 PR by 5:47
Mittel Yitzchok M34 PASSAIC NJ 1:31:14 6:58
Pancer Joseph M41 BROOKLYN NY 1:31:23 6:59
Ovits Mordechai M34 BROOKLYN NY 1:31:39 7:00 PR by 7:56
Bressler Yaakov M18 BROOKLYN NY 1:33:08 7:07
Friedman Israel M42 BROOKLYN NY 1:39:01 7:34
Goldberg Miri F30 HIGHLAND PARK NJ 1:39:49 7:38
Bodek Martin M36 PASSAIC NJ 1:43:15 7:53 PR by 4:11
Maltz Martin M37 BROOKLYN NY 1:44:20 7:58
Katz Matt M33 BROOKLYN NY 1:44:55 8:01
Pupko Sruli M28 BROOKLYN NY 1:47:23 8:12 PR
Kohane Ariel M40 NEW YORK NY 1:47:38 8:13
Wilhelm Michael M30 BROOKLYN NY 1:47:49 8:14 PR
Nath Howard M30 BROOKLYN NY 1:50:39 8:27 PR by 7:41
Wulliger Abe M27 BROOKLYN NY 1:53:47 8:42 1st 1/2
Itzkowitz Shia M20 BROOKLYN NY 1:58:46 9:04 1st 1/2
Silver Shelly M46 PASSAIC NJ 1:59:00 9:05 1st 1/2
Saperstein Avi M34 BROOKLYN NY 2:00:04 9:10 PR
Rosenblum Chesky M49 BROOKLYN NY 2:03:03 9:24
Rand Charles M34 BROOKLYN NY 2:19:07 10:38
Pittinsky Jonathan M42 PASSAIC NJ 2:26:18 11:11
Balas Dave M41 BROOKLYN NY 2:27:26 11:16 1st 1/2
Feldman Chanan M39 BROOKLYN NY 2:28:54 11:22
Lebovits Abraham M30 BROOKLYN NY 2:29:24 11:25 1st 1/2

Notice the times of the top (core) four runners? They traded places regularly over the last three miles. It was intense and positively frantic! They all finished within 38 seconds of each other! Wow!

Virtual pretend make believe awards (that will be real one day!) were handed out to the following during our breakfast sponsored by Mordy Ovits and family:

The OK GO There He Goes Again Award - Moishie Gamss: Moishie repeated his accomplishment of the 2011 JRunners Relay Race: he started way behind (this time, a corral behind where he was supposed to be), fell behind for a bit past the midpoint, and then powered strong to sneak ahead of an unsuspecting lead runner even as it got hotter. Gamss did all the scorching though. Helluva performance, especially considering the drag from those funky glasses.

The BTO You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet Award - Yaakov Bressler: Yaakov, all of 18 years old with no fat that can be detected (hence he was shivering mightily before the race), placed 2nd in the 12-19 age group for the entire race!!! The sky's the limit for this guy!

The Isley Brothers Who's That Lady? Award - Miri Goldberg: Ms. Goldberg showed up like a ghost, said a quick hi, beat the pants off of most of the JRunners field, and disappeared after the race. She's listed as one of us because she's Jewish and she runs, and we're not that picky about who joins our little club. Miri, y'all come back now, y'hear? This time, stay.

The Frank Sinatra It Was a Very Good Year Award - Martin Bodek: He lost 20 pounds, strapped on Vibrams and, finally after 14 attempts, broke his 12 year old Half Marathon PR. It was the last standing PR at any available distance that was left to fall over the past year. Now he wants to break each and every one of them again. Little does he realize he'd have to lose another 20 pounds and go barefoot. Uh oh...

The Hall & Oates He's a (Marathon) Maniac Award - Sruli Pupko: Proudly wearing his Marathon Maniac t-shirt - earned by running two marathons in fourteen days - Sruli got tons of recognition from fellow runners who know what it takes to earn club membership. But we really know why he got his props. It was that bloody nipple. It was um, hard earned.

The Charles Dickens Great Expectations Award - Abe Wulliger, Shia Itzkowitz, Shelly Morris, David Balas and Abraham Lebovits: Each of these men ran a half marathon for the first time ever, and each of them did very well. Shia actually set 2:10:00 as his goal going in, and demolished that by twelve minutes! David says he couldn't run 13 feet a year and a half ago, and now he did 13 miles, pushing hard all the way. We now expect all of you to continue moving up the ladder. JRunners only ascend in accomplishment.

The Veeoohaftoo Liryeachoo Koomoychoo Voos Iz Mantz Doos Iz Dantz Award - A half dozen JRunners: A keen eye might note some incorrect biographical information in the runners results chart above. This is because several runners ran with bibs of other runners, and some ran with multiple chips. All this so that nobody would be oiver ba'al taschis. Yet another reason we were zoyche to just a fantastic showing.

Martin Bodek is the beat reporter for JRunners.org. Buy his books though (http://tinyurl.com/3nvusoz, http://tinyurl.com/3ky5u7y) because this gig pays him squat.

Oh the Talks You Can Talk! (My Sheva Brachos Speech for Sara and Daniel)

2011-08-31T10:24:00.002-04:00

(Introductory remarks about the importance of communication and thank yous to relevant parties)

T.T.T.O. "Oh the Thinks You Can Think!" by Dr. Seuss.

You can talk about life.
That's what you can do.
You can talk about everything
you both have been through.

You can talk on the couch.
You can talk on a walk.
You can talk over dinner.
Oh, the talks you can talk!

Oh, the talks you can talk
if only you try!
If you try you can talk
till your mouths go so dry.

And you don’t have to stop.
You can talk about slop.
Nonsensical slop
with a cherry on top.

You can talk about me.
Or my wife Naomi.
Or even our Naava
Freddy or Nani.

You can talk about
All in which you take stock
About your life together
Over at The Rock.

Talk about children,
How many you want.
Talk about travels
from here to Vermont.

You can talk about talking,
Instead of to fight.
to make sure you always
sleep soundly at night.

You can talk about work,
and the kids in your care.
You guys are made
for that work, I swear.

Talk! Talk and babble.
Babble and talk.
Talk all you want.
May the words never balk.

You can babble aheen.
You can babble aherr.
You can babble so much.
Till you’re blue over there.

Talk of your wedding.
Man, what a scene
It happened despite
Some gal named Irene

There are so many talks
that you talkers can talk!
When you’re dining out
Or you’re out on a walk.

Talk about things
Both holy and prust.
At the end of the day
All the talking’s a must!

Oh, the talks you can talk!
It’ll take just a minute.
To think of your day
and tell all that was in it.

Talk of hopes, talk of dreams.
Talk of trivial things.
Talk of anything
that to you, happiness brings.

TALK! You can talk
Any talk that you wish.
From a writer you like
To your most favorite dish.

Talk of high, talk of low.
Talk of to, talk of fro.
Talk of stop, talk of go.
It’s about talking, you know.

TALK! Talk a streak.
Till you’re red in the cheeks.
Till you can’t even speak
‘cuz your jaws are so weak.

And life! Talk of life!
As new husband and wife.
So whistle and fife
To avoid any strife.

So listen, you two.
To the words I gave you.
And all will come through
In a gitten shoo.

Mazel tov!

Copyright © 2011 by Martin Bodek

The 2011 JRunners Relay Race Awards

2011-08-29T10:11:00.000-04:00

The 2011 JRunners Relay Race Awards
by
Martin Bodek

Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the 2011 JRunners Relay Race Awards. I am your host, Martin Bodek. While I figure out what to properly call these trophies (The Runnies? the Racies?), I ask that you sit back, enjoy and extrapolate the tale of the 2011 relay edition via the citations given to the worthy recipients.

The We've Got The Runs Award for the Best Team Name - The team names were, in order of their arrival at the finish line: Team 5 AKA No U Turns, Team 8 AKA Silk's Ilk, Team 7 AKA John Elway Runners, Team 1 AKA Cool Running, Team 2 AKA The WEeBLes, Team 6 AKA Rapid Runners, Team 4 AKA Asphalt Assault, Team 3 AKA Runners Anonymous. This vote was put to the runners, organizers and volunteers, and by an overwhelming margin, The WEeBLes are proud to hoist this trophy.

The Steve Prefontaine Guts Award - Mordy Ovits, Team 2. Mordy signed up to do 18.1 grueling miles, and completed them all in speedy fashion. Then he started adding to the tally by running several segments alongside his group B temmates down the final stretch, in particular doing almost the entire leg 29 with his brother Yitz. Then he also put in the Mad Dash. In total, he ran 26 miles, only .2 short of a marathon! Holy smokes! Mordy also wins the Soul Asylum Runaway Train Award for fastest time recorded at any moment on a GPS. On one of the mountain downhills, he recorded a 4:37 clip!

The Rocky and Bullwinkle Fearless Leader Award - Steven Friedman, Team 4. Steven was admittedly in lesser shape than last year, but nevertheless signed up for more difficult and longer legs. Leg 22 threw him for literal loops, which seemed like flat terrain from the map, but those kinds of maps have painful blips. The heat beat him down and invited him to quit. He experienced cramps and pulled muscles in every single part of his body. Through the difficulty, he made up his mind that he was going to drop dead before he ever quit. He did not quit, and you must know by now, though he is difficult to reach, he did not drop dead. He lived through the hills and the pain and the obstacles and the fire-engine red adorable cheeks of his at very good overall paces with pride and guts. Way to go, Steven.

The Gunnery Sergeant Hartman Troop Rallier Award - Elie Lowinger, Team 4. Elie coached several of his teammates as he ran alongside them for support and motivation, hollering positive energy into his sun-beaten and hill-clobbered buddies. His group cited his efforts as crucial to their brave performances.

The Evanescense Bring Me Back to Life Award - The one lady, three EMTS, nine teammates and little girl who respectively watered and iced me down, oxygenated me, fed me and kept me company when I collapsed after the finish line. I gave it my best, and they gave me their best. Thank you all so very much.

The Scooby Doo Mystery Machine Best Decorated Van Award - Team 3. They deserve this award simply for trying so hard. Every inch of their car was covered with slogans and messages and streamers and t-shirts and arts-and-crafts and names of the runners and sneakers that looked like they belonged to Shaquille O'Neal. And oh yes, lovely foot-hats (ergo default winners of the Captain Jack Sparrow Best Costume Award) made by Mrs. Pupko, wife of captain Yisroel Pupko.

The Billy Mills Comeback Award - Aron Rosenfeld, Team 7. Three times, count 'em 3!, Aron overtook team 2 to take the 3rd place position, finally making it stick on his last attempt. On leg 10's torturous Hills of Wesley, he overtook Martin Bodek in the final 25 feet, coming on like a steamroller. On leg 20, he overtook Yitz Ovits with a quarter mile left, and finally, on leg 29, he overtook Yitz Ovits again and made it count. He hit the ground after exchanging, but made sure no one needed to worry about him by immediately doing a series of pushups. I don't know where he gets his fire. Maybe it's the homemade flying Nike tzitzis.

The Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure Award - Ariel Kohane, Team 3. First his left sole got punctured while out on his first leg and a stone got wedged inside that he couldn't remove. Then he got chased off the course twice by dogs, nearly necessitating a jump on a JRunners support vehicle before their owners called them back. Then on the last leg he outran the teammates pacing him for support. Then we presume he was finally happy to be finished with his crazy day.

The Winston Churchill Never Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever Give Up Award - Team 1. Moishe Gamss and Team 1 were languishing in 8th place after leg 15 but never gave up hope and never stopped running with extreme determination. Their efforts paid off with a quarter-mile to go, when Moishe blasted past a hurting team 4 runner (okay, fine, that was me) to secure 4th place for his team. Amazing job.

The Kurt Vonnegut Slaughterhouse Five Award - Team 5. Also known as the Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction Award, team 5 laid down the law and absolutely mashed the field to a fine pulp. Establishing a lead from the 3rd leg, they kept the throttle down and never let go, not on the hills, not in the mountains, not through any personal struggles of any of their runners. They accomplished it through strength of unity and phenomenal teamwork. They prepared by running with each other before the race. The Brooklyn contingent ran together in Prospect Park, and the Passaic contingent did so in the Passaic Park Environs. Many of them clobbered their previous best showings.

The Mike Marshall Bullpen Horse Award - Chaim Silber, Team 8. Chaim was an 11th hour replacement who had 24 hours to prepare for the race (not much training you can do for a trial by fire like this over 24 hours). However, Chaim is a proud member of the Israeli Army, and that means he's tough as nails and completely unaware of the concept of quitting. He completed all his legs and then some, tearing into the hills with a vengeance. Am Yisroel chai.

The Cake Going the Distance Award - Moshe Kaufman, Team 8. Moshe signed up for the longest total distance going into the race. Including the mad dash, he committed to 19 miles going in and despite several hills on all of his legs, he finished 'em all. That's what we call committment and dependability.

The Edmund Hilary Alpine Award - Yosef Landau, Team 2; Shia Itzkowitz, Team 8; Ron Goldofsky, Team 5; Shaul Mayerfeld, Team 7; Abraham Lebovits, Team 1; Mark Izhak, Team 4; David Colman, Team 3 and Jacob Deckelbaum, Team 6. What do these fine gentlemen have in common? They each ran leg 17. What's so significant about that? Well, leg 17 would make ordinary folk cry for their mommies and beg for their daddies. But these eight men are not ordinary folk, they're a special breed of athlete called JRunners. They powered up the hill as it mashed them to a pulp. Through cramps and exhaustion and profuse water refills, they made it. Yes, Leg 26 was a very close second in degree of difficulty, but the difference is, those who ran leg 17 came back for more!

The Luke Skywalker The Force is Strong with this One Award - Yaakov Bressler and Matt Bohensky, teams 6 and 5. Both are teenagers in possession of serious physical strength and speed. They have no idea how envious runners twice their age are of them, mostly because it's icky to admit an athlete's crush on one half your age. I think they have an idea how much potential they both have, and that comforts me, but what is more important is their toughness. Yaakov had stomach cramps but fought hard with it while running an extra leg due to an injured teammate, shouting, "I do those mountains for breakfast!" all the way and completing a total of 23 miles. Matt actually ran with a bad knee, having bashed it accidentally into a dinner table just three weeks before the race. The bruise was still visible at start time. Alternatively, this is also known as the Peter Parker With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility Award.

The Hocus Pocus by Focus Award - Yoni Lazerous, Team 4. Yoni signed up just days before the race and took the daunting hills in stride. Then his teammates got a bit lost while he was on leg 2 and couldn't get him water support for the entire 7.7 miles, but he was cool about it. Then he got to the exchange eight minutes before his teammates arrived, but he didn't panic. Then he put in 22 miles including pacing of his teammates and remained cool as a cucumber throughout. Some of us could have used some of the ice water in his veins.

The Bear Grylls Man vs. Wild Award - Jonathan Pittinsky, Team 2. Many of us encountered much in the way of wildlife as we were out there on the road. There were deer and horses and cows and birds and bullfrogs and dogs (Adam Orlow, Team 2, got bitten by one!) and a rattlesnake and five billion crickets, but the most alarming encounter of all was the one unseen, and therefore the most threatening. A motorist passing by lowered her window to holler at Jonathan to be careful, as she saw a bear nearby. A bear! Holy cow! Imagine running while fretting about a bear in your way??? Yikes!

The Rod Stewart Hot Legs Award - Tzvi Hass, Team 4. Tzvi was happily running along when the rain started, then wasn't happily running along anymore when a lightning bolt struck the ground about 100 feet from where he was. Frightened as any of us would be, he ran off the road seeking shelter when his van happened by. He jumped in for safety until the storm dissipated. Yours truly has been thrown by a lightning strike before. I know the fear and what happens to your heartrate. It's a good thing Tzvi's last name means "rabbit." Run, rabbit, run!

The USMC Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body Award - Yossi Sharf, Team 3. Yossi's FIRST step resulted in sudden cramping of both his calves, his next steps hurt him even more, when he started picking up the pace in an attempt to outrun the pain. When he closed in on his first exchange, he donated the contents of his stomach to the West Side Highway. Then he had problems catching his breath, then he thinks he started hallucinating. Then on his second leg, his legs started cramping. But he fought through it all with the help of his teammates and hydrating bikers. What didn't kill Yossi, made him stronger and he promised to train more and harder for next year's edition. Great show, Yossi.

The Pam Reed Extra Mile Award - Levi Gutwein, Team 5. Due to a logistics issue, in the lead-up to the race, Leg 29 was officially shortened by almost a mile, but team 5 had established such a lead by the time they got there, that the exchange was not yet moved to its new proper position by the time Levi came along. He ran that leg that near-mile longer than any of his leg 29 competitors, and he felt it. Levi said his legs were cement and that the last mile was, "the most physically and psychologically demanding mile I have ever run!"

The Queen The Show Must Go On Award - Rabbi Daniel Coren, Team 4. Rabbi Coren gives a daf yomi shiur, and would not let his participation in the race keep him from his preparation. Between legs, he sat down and commenced his studies to dispatch his spiritual responsbilities. Because of his commitment, he was fully up to date at the end of the journey. conversely, I am now a full week behind because of the two days over which the race elapsed and all the furious post-race writing that takes up much of my time. Maybe having Rabbi Coren as a teammate would keep me up to date.

The John Travolta Lookalike Contest Award - Abe Wulliger, Team 5. Because he looks exactly like John Travolta!

And there you have it folks! Congratulations to all the winners!

Martin Bodek is the beat reporter for JRunners.org. Buy his books though (http://tinyurl.com/3nvusoz, http://tinyurl.com/3ky5u7y) because this gig pays him squat.

Report from My (and the) 2nd Annual JRunners Relay Race

2011-08-22T21:54:00.001-04:00

Report from My (and the) 2nd Annual JRunners Relay Race

Martin Bodek

It was the best of times, it was the worst at times, it was the day of glory, it was the day of agony, it was the race of invigoration, it was the race of exhaustion, it was the relay of solitude, it was the relay of camaraderie, it was the Run for Hope amid legs of despair, we had everything in us, we had nothing in us, we were all pounding for Ohr Meir, we were all pining for the finish line - in short, the 2011 JRunners Relay Race had literal and figurative ups and downs, for individuals, for teams, for the volunteers, and for the organizers themselves. Overall however, the elevation - again, literally and figuratively, was a net uphill, and nobody could ask for anything more.

The following is my personal experience in the race, leg for leg. Liberties were taken when - due to the mad whirlwind of activity and my personal spent energy - certain events could not be remembered in their proper order.

Leg 0: Pre-race was filled with my captainly duties: wrangling beverages, arranging radio installs for the cars, co-coordinating logistics, and selling out the copies of my new book (http://tinyurl.com/3nvusoz) that I brought with me. I should have brought more!

Leg 1: We were off, for our team ("The WEeBLes" - acronym revealed only to those who ask) it was Adam Orlow whose boots were on the ground first. At about 5 miles into Leg 1, a Glatt Mart Cheering Zone was set up. We hurried over and welcomed in the runners amid a frenzied and joyous crowd. Adam was in 2nd place at that point by about the length of a random hair on my head (for those of you that know me and the degree of my challenged follicles, you'll know how close it was). I met members of my family there. It was delightful to see them. We took pics, regrouped and we were on our way to the Fort Lee exchange while group A toughed it out through Brooklyn, Manhattan and up the 9W.

Leg 2: As we headed up to Fort Lee, we learned that we were still in 2nd place, by 10 feet. Adam Goller was holding it down for us, and holding it down strong.

Leg 3: We (group B) made it Fort Lee, and tried to get some sleep. First I tried to sleep in the driver's seat, then the back seat, then the middle seat, then slumped against a tree, then lying down in the grass. Nothing worked. I resigned myself to the impossibility of actual slumber, but over the course of the day, I'd continue trying, but to no avail whatsoever. Meanwhile, group A was holding the position, but the lead team (Team 5, or the Slaughterhouse Five, as I'll call them) had opened a curiously large lead on 2nd place. Jonathan Pittinsky took this leg for our team and ran strong.

Leg 4: Pacing, lots of pacing, and bathroom trips, lots of bathroom trips, and nervousness and excitement. Lots of those too. Chezky Rand took this for our team and ran it well despite some nausea, and interpreted some dicey directions (through a tunnel and up some steps, tricky!) successfully.

Leg 5: Team 5 came in first, then team 8. Finally our man Avi Hornstein (hill-climber extraordinaire and veteran of the Tiberias and Jerusalem marathons) zoomed in and handed off to Yosef Landau, our plucky last minute replacement due to an injury to brother runner Steven Perel.

Leg 6: Yosef had a great finishing kick and handed off to Mordy Ovits, who had 7.7 miles ahead of him. The first half downhill, the last half way uphill. Throughout the race, we kept driving ahead of our runner, pulling off to a safe spot, jumping out to offer supplies and hollering encouragement. SOP for everyone else, I hope. At one point, Yosef realized he was missing his cell phone, so I called his phone, drove back to the last place we pulled over, prayed I didn't drive over the phone and as we approached, there it was, glowing in the dark because of my call. Wow. We then zipped back to Mordy for further support.

Leg 7: Mordy finished his leg like a champion and handed off to Joseph Levine, who had the opposite leg of Mordy: 4.8 miles, the first half up, the last half down. He maintained power all throughout though. Tough guy. While this was all going on, we were receiving updates from group A as to race position. We were in 3rd. First place was increasing their crazy lead.

Leg 8: Levine finished strong and handed off to Yitz Ovits - Mordy's baby brother - who had a nice, flat route perfectly designed for his abilities.

Leg 9: While Yitz was out there and being yelled at (in a good way) by his proud older brother, we continued receiving updates. Same ol' same ol'. We were in 3rd, with a good lead on 4th, and 1st place was way, way, way out in front.

Leg 10: Showtime for yours truly at daybreak. I was running for my breakfast. Yitz handed off to me and off I went in Wesley Hills. In short order, I would learn with terrible intimacy why "Hills" is appended to the town's name. I smoked the first mile at sub-8 and suddenly came upon a hill that looked literally like the ramp on the highway to heaven. I fished out the map in my pocket and noticed a little blip on the elevation chart. Well, that blip was a 150 foot rise on a tenth of a mile. Cars cried when they tried going up. I could hear them weeping for themselves and for me as they passed me. But I had good energy and passed a strong runner (Aron Rosenfeld, Team 7) on the way down. I had another sub-8 mile and then, oh my gosh, another crazy ramp! I fought and struggled and powered my way over it until I came to level ground. I spotted an old lady out for a jog, and I had to pass her, so I did. Maybe I'll send her flowers as my wake turbulence must have rattled her. Soon after I passed her, Rosenfeld suddenly thundered past me with great energy, powering his legs high and swinging his arms efficiently. We both dashed towards the exchange. He had more than I did and beat me by a picometer. Interestingly, I finished my entire leg in a faster time than he did. I handed off to Adam Orlow, headed for a mostly flat leg to take advantage of his incredible speed.

Leg 11: While Orlow was running his brains out and receiving support from group A, I and group B scarfed down our breakfasts, did our morning prayers, recharged our cell phones, talked trash (Mordy Ovits and Moishe Gamss - great competitors) with another team on Nachum Segal's radio show, failed at further attempts at sleep, and worried about the impending rain - which doesn't bother me unless conditions are extreme, but certainly affects others adversely and makes the organizers nervous from a safety perspective.

Leg 12: It was wheels up for our group to make it to exchange 15. Before we left though, Mordy whispered in Nachum Segal's ear what our team name stood for. The look on his face was priceless as he slapped his heel into this forehead and laughed his durn fool head off. Meanwhile Avi Hornstein was conquering with aplomb a truly painful 3.4 mile leg with 718 feet of elevation. He mastered it though, because man, his legs are as amazing as his hair.

Leg 13: Adam Goller was out there for us, running through Harriman State Park and experiencing everything a leg could throw at him: a massive drop, long flat and massive elevation towards the end. Meantime, we passed the entire field with our car, getting a sense of how everyone was laid out. It seemed there were two clusters: four teams in a relatively tight group in the front, then a wide gap, then four teams in the back. However, team 5 was off the charts, with a lead of approximately two miles. Yikes. That was - literally - fast!

Leg 14: Chesky Rand's turn. He was granted a leg with a straight-down 600 foot drop off a hill. Before you think this is easy, go ahead and ask his quads what this felt like. Go ahead, I'll wait for you here while you speak with them.

Leg 15: Not so easy, huh? Jonathan Pittinsky now. What goes down, must go up. Jonathan had to go 300 feet into the air over 2.9 miles, but he did very well, and was very strong, and oh yes, Jonathan must have gotten the scare of his life when a motorist passing by lowered her window to holler at Jonathan to be careful, as she saw a bear nearby. A bear! Holy cow! Imagine running while fretting about a bear in your way??? Yikes!

Leg 16: Jonathan handed off to group B (after successfully not getting mauled by a bear) in the visage of Mordy Ovits, who was in for some serious torture. I mean, the leg map actually has a pointer blurb to "top of mountain." This top of mountain was 500 feet higher than the beginning of the leg, spread out over two miles. Following this was a 700 foot leg-shredding downhill. I can't imagine the pain. Mordy can.

Leg 17: Yosef Landau - remember, our last minute replacement - had the honor of tackling the longest sustained climb of the course: 551 feet of elevation in 2.1 miles with a single 13 foot dip over a tenth of a mile at mile 1. And that's it. The rest is up, straight up. He toughed it out despite severe physical agony. He was sweating profusely, so we were hydrating him well, but my gosh, when he was done, he was very happy to be done. He was very, very proud of himself for that gutty performance. We were proud of him too!

Leg 18: A 700 foot drop off a cliff over 5 miles for Joseph Levine. Again, this hurts, but Joseph aced it. Checking back at the field, we're still in third, and first place is now in the lead by about a light year. Yours truly waiting for the baton in the blocks. Pacing pacing pacing, sipping sipping sipping. Here comes Joseph.

Leg 19: And I'm off. 3.6 miles ahead of me on mostly flats with some rises. I tore into it like I was made for it. I ripped into the first mile at a 7:02 clip, then encountered some hills over the next two miles and was distracted by wildlife (cows, horses, gorgeous yellow-and-black birds) but kept both sub-8 (7:51, 7:54). Then for the final 10k I was unleashed and ran it in 6:16, handing off to Yitz Ovits smoothly and fully re-energized from my run. MAN, that felt good!

Leg 20: Yitz enjoyed a mostly flat leg, albeit with a 130 foot headache over three-tenths of a mile midway through the run that left him cramping, and ran it very well despite the "bump." Big brother Mordy continued to take pride and joy in his pride and joy. At the approach to exchange, Aron Rosenfeld (there's that man again!) overtook us and dropped us to 4th. Yitz then handed off to Jonathan Pittinsky, as group B handed off to group A. Lead team now in the lead by the distance of approximately three galaxies.

Leg 21: While Jonathan was on the road, another of our troupe lost his cell phone, so group B drove alllllll the way back to exchange 18, where we couldn't see it on the ground. We called the phone, heard a faint buzzing somewhere in the vehicle, and after much investigation, voila, it was in the glove compartment. It remains a mystery to this day how it got there. At this point, we remained in 4th place by a few minutes, but kept the 3rd place team (7) in our sights.

Leg 22: While Pittinsky was handing off to Adam Goller, group B passed by the entire running field to get a sense of what was going on. We encountered our Fearless Leader Steven Friedman struggling up the hills, a rictus of pain etched on his face, his cute usually-pinkish cheeks fire-engine red. But we also saw determination. Steven Friedman is no quitter.

Leg 23: Group B continued making tracks to exchange 25 for our lunch, and we passed our man Avi Hornstein, our mountaineer, on a serious uphill charge, calves bursting. He totally had it. Avi's money, baby. We continued closing the gap for that silver medal slot.

Leg 24: While Avi handed off to Chesky Rand for a tough, tough uphill 2.7 run, group B made it to exchange 25, had some lunch, bought some ice, showered and made ablutions, GUed, recharged our batteries, got comfortable in changes of clothing and prepared for the final stretch. We were still in 4th, closing in on team 7, but also holding off a fast-closing two other teams, nipping at our heels, both within a mile of us.

Leg 25: Adam Orlow on the prowl, who shot past team 7's runner and gained a 3-minute lead over 4th place. Mordy got into the blocks when we saw Adam in the distance. We could see Adam was hurting, bad. The look on his face was scary. Marked on it was the quad-trashing he endured on the 700 foot drop. But he was okay, and he handed off cleanly, and Mordy was away, and it was group B now for the stretch run.

Leg 26: Mordy absorbed a monster. A 600 foot climb over 6 miles with terribly steep ascents in spots. He muscled through it with confidence though, refusing water as he focused on charging through his leg. At the end of it, he had completed the most miles for our team. 18.1 in total (he would add 8 more via runs alongside his teammates plus the mad dash for a total of 26). While he was out there, group B had pulled into the next exchange, so group A went to check on him. As they approached, they noticed a rattlesnake on the road, right in Mordy's path. Mordy had enough to worry about! So Avi shooed the snake away with his car (I too would be scared of an Escalade bearing down on me) and he slithered out of Mordy's path.

Leg 27: Mordy handed off to Joseph Levine who absorbed similar difficulty with a 400 foot rise over 4 miles. He kept refusing water, asking for a sponge instead to wipe the sweat off himself, then finally accepting water as the hills grew steeper. He remained a trooper and handed off to Landau.

Leg 28: Yosef had a nice, smooth and swift run on a leg that was mostly flat for five miles. That doesn't mean he didn't need our help though. Any runner on his last leg needs as much help as can be given. We started passing bungalow colonies where kids would run out to the fences and cheer us on. That was rather neat. At one point, we parked awkwardly (Okay fine, I did, as I was driver for 90% of our journey) and when we (okay fine, me) pulled out, we knocked askew a mailbox in the front of someone's bungalow. We started getting out of our vehicles to apologize and see what we could do, but the owner - standing right there - said, "Don't worry, just run." Now isn't that nice?

Leg 29: Yitz Ovits now, on an up and down, twisty-turny, very unforgiving leg. Mordy accompanied his brother nearly all the way. During one of our support stops, team 1 rolled in and we talked some smack again with Moishe Gamss. I realized suddenly that my toe felt funny, and whaddya know? The small hole that had eroded into my Vibrams had now grown so much that my toe was hitting asphalt every time it stepped down. Nothing I could do about that now. I'd have to grin and bear it. Further on, at another support stop, Team 7's Aron Rosenfeld (again!!!) came storming through again like rolling thunder and overtook our runner. I got out of the vehicle, bumped first with Aron and said, "Respect, brother." He said, "Thank you, brother." We were now in 4th place. From there, I drove to the next exchange to await Yitz and Mordy for the final assault. Aron came rumbling in, yelling like a banshee, handing off with fury to Moshe Sanders (an impressively fast man 10 years my senior), and collapsing to the ground, breathing heavily. I was two seconds way from calling Command for medical assistance, when he started doing pushups.Ohhhhkay! He was gonna be alright, I estimated. While I waited for the Ovitses to appear, I paced, I GUed, I jogged in place, I went weewee multiple times, and then, in the distance, here came the Ovits brothers, powering up the hill towards me. Here we go, here we go, showtime, I gotta catch Moshe Sanders. Gimme that bracelet, gimme that.

Leg 30: Okay, it's all on me now. I tore out of the exchange with Sanders many minutes ahead of me and Gamss on my tail. My best hope was to cut the tangents (safely) and hope Sanders wasn't doing the same. Despite the crazy hills, I was doing very well. My mile splits were 7:44, 7:58, 8:17. I had to have been making ground on Sanders. I had to. As I was running, I kept repeating, "Gotta catch Sanders, Gotta catch Sanders."

And then.

The lights went out. The energy meter went down to zero. I was snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Cognitive function ceased. I started babbling. My teammates Joseph and Mordy took turns running alongside me to motivate me. I tried communicating with them, but my vocabulary was reduced to "Meh," "Veh," and "Fleh." I remember trying to ask for ice, but all I could muster was "Mm, mm." I also remember attempting to ask, "Where's Sanders?," but all that would come out of my mouth was "Wuh, Zzz." Mordy would later share with our team that anyone who knows me, knows I'm a loquacious fellow (certainly on paper!) and to see me lose my power of speech was scary. Twice I felt like I was going to simply tip over and kiss the pavement, but Mordy and Joseph stayed with me and kept me going, giving me instructions, promising me the end was just over that hill, just over that hill, just around that bend. I couldn't hear them, I was too busy hallucinating. For fleeting moments, corrupting thoughts entered my head, like, "Gee, if I tip over and road rash my face, that might actually be more physically pleasant than what I'm experiencing at the moment." and "That is such a pretty ditch: gravel, bees, animal droppings and everything. I want to lie down there, it looks so serene and heavenly." But I could never give in to thoughts like that. I really think I would rather die than quit. Death is better than giving up. If I would have stopped running at any point, I would never, ever be able to live with myself. Death before dishonor. I could never quit on people counting on me. My last drop of life force that exited my body was when I crossed the street and started up the Loch Sheldrake golf course hill. My soul left me from that point until I was revived. My thoughts weren't normal. I'm not kidding about that ditch though. I also looked up at the sun and thought, "Burn me up now, I've always been curious what spontaneous combustion actually looked like. Kaboom. That's gotta be cool." Seriously, that's how my brain was going. I know I had an out of body experience because from above I could see Moishe Gamss passing me by, and Mordy in bewilderment, saying, "You're a runner?" And then I realized, no, this is not an out of body experience, that was actually Gamss zipping right past me. It hurt so bad when he passed, but I kept on my feet, my teammates relying on me for 5th and no less, no less, oh please, no less. So I charged up the hill with Mordy's support, and my teammates joined me and we got our lights-and-sirens hullabaloo escort and we crossed the finish line, 5th of 8. We all ran our guts out. Now there may have been celebrating and whooping and family reunioning, but I wasn't up for that right now. I needed to lie down somewhere. At first, the concrete seemed real inviting and I leaned over, hoping the pavement wouldn't hurt so much when I hit it, but I spotted a patch of grass just fifteen feet away, and I dove right into it and lay down and begged whoever was listening for ice. I was on fire, burning up, my whole body was aflame, my privates were a cauldron of insane bristling heat. And people heard my whimpers, and somebody put me in the seated position, and a lady began pouring cold water on me, and somebody handed me a bag of ice, and I stuffed it between my legs, and three EMTs surrounded me, and I remember saying, after being offered oxygen, that "I don't want to look like a nebach." But he insisted, and I took the oxygen, and a teammate circumvented the payment scheme for the finish line food to fill me up. And I cooled down, and I was oxygenated, and I was hydrated and nourished, and brought back to life. I gave everything I had. Every ounce. All of it. We fought hard and placed 5th, and I'm proud of me and my teammates. All guts, all glory.

Martin Bodek is the author of the recently released The Year of Bad Behavior: Bearing Witness to the Uncouthiest of Humanity (lulu.com), which is ironic, because he encountered nothing but goodness and kindness during the entire race experience.

Guess Who's ITIL v3 Foundation Certified?

2011-08-11T13:46:00.001-04:00

That’s right, me! I earn this lovely pin…

…another professional credential and a handsome addition to my resume.

May all of us continue to strive and accomplish and attain along our career paths.

A Race of Their Own: The First Ever Ladies Only JRunners 5K

2011-08-07T20:11:00.005-04:00

A Race of Their Own: The First Ever Ladies Only JRunners 5K
by
Martin Bodek

Yes, the flyer said rain or shine, but rain was absolutely nothing to worry about. The first ever JRunners women’s 5k was run in positively pristine conditions on a beautiful sun-dappled race course with nary a cloud in the sky.
55 women turned out for the race in Loch Sheldrake – exactly the same amount as there were finishers in the first ever NYC Marathon in 1970. They came from far (Houston, TX!) and near (Monticello, NY). They were young (9!) and sage (77!). They were fast and faster.
At 10:30 AM they were off, and at 10:53:02.5, Judith Sambol crossed the finish line with the fastest time ever recorded by a female in a JRunners event.
Devorah Levin followed shortly thereafter with her silver medal performance and offered that “It was a great race, and it felt great being a part of a group of fit Jewish women.”
In 3rd place was a “PR”ing Rivky Tepler, who was effusive in her praise for the event, saying, “It's always fun to see everyone come together and give it their all. It’s always enjoyable to see my running friends and to meet more women with the same interests/obsessions that I have.”
The top three finishers beamed with their glass trophies in hand. As each runner streamed in, the smiles grew wider as they earned their finisher’s medals and showed them off to their cheering supporters.
Steve Holmbraker, director extraordinaire of each and every one of the JRunners races, was pleased with how the event turned out.
“The race was great,” he said. “The weather was perfect. The runners were happy and appreciative. It was all good.”
Shana Friedman took great pride in her performance. Having sustained a worrisome injury earlier in the week, she was unsure up until race time if she could actually partake. Partake she did, and placed 2nd in the 20-29 age group.
Even more pleased was the youngest participant of the day, Mimi Gornish, all of nine years old.
“I can't believe I did it!” said Mimi. “Even though I was the youngest, there were still some ladies behind me when I finished. I definitely had fun and want to do this again!”
Rivky Orlow and Tzipora Hornstein offered a joint summary of the race that encapsulated many of the sentiments offered by all the runners nearly to a man, or in this case, to a woman.
It said, “The race was lots of fun! Last year at this location, it was exciting to watch our husbands finish their JRunners race and come in first place! So when we heard JRunners was organizing a women’s race we were excited to participate. The mapped route was great without too many hills. It was so nice to feel the camaraderie of a diverse group of women who are all serious about the sport, and there to enjoy the race. We enjoyed the competition and of course it doesn’t hurt that this was both of our best 5K times yet! We look forward to more JRunners events.”
Competitive spirit was on display in the forms of Masters division racers Baila Miller and Miriam Wielgus. Both ladies have been trying to outdo each other in every JRunners event they’ve run so far. In the first JRunners 5k winter race, Miriam beat Baila by a hair. In the 5k race in April, Baila outran Miriam. This time, Baila emerged the victor again. Advantage Baila, and the Masters crown.
Miriam was nevertheless buoyant after bowing gracefully to her victorious competitor. Said Miriam, “The race was a blast! Looking forward to the next JRunners event.”
That would be the JRunners crown jewel relay race on August 17-18. Eight ten-man teams will run 30 legs totaling 143 miles in support of the Ohr Meir foundation.
Onward and upward it is for the non-profit JRunners organization and their message of promoting health and fitness. Their de facto slogan, Vive Currere, Curre Vivere (“live to run, run to live”), seems to have taken hold in the Jewish community.

Martin Bodek is co-founder of TheKnish.com, beat reporter for JRunners.org, surname columnist for Jewishworldreview.com, and author of "Bush II, Book I" and the recently released, "The Year of Bad Behavior: Bearing Witness to the Uncouthiest of Humanity," both available on lulu.com.

Originally published in The 5 Towns Jewish Times on August 3, 2011.

My New Book is Out!

2011-08-04T13:03:00.001-04:00

At long last, after seventeen months and three weeks of writing and editing and shvitzing (My first book - Bush II, Book I - took me eighteen months to complete, so as you can see, I've streamlined the process), my new book is available. Here's my new baby:

Lulu.com: http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/the-year-of-bad-behavior-bearing-witness-to-the-uncouthiest-of-humanity/16427315

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Year-Bad-Behavior-Uncouthiest-ebook/dp/B005FM7W9K/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1312400374&sr=8-2

What's it about? Well, I spent a year encountering the nose-pickers, nail-clippers, cellphone-yappers, lane cut-offers, people who stand akimbo, child slappers, personal space invaders, stores that have cashiers who can't decipher coupons, customer service idiots, the rude, the people who need BlackBerry helmets, line cutters, escalator mudsticks, teenagers discussing what liquids induce abortion, and I wrote about it.

I ask at a bare minimum that you "like" the book, at a bare medium that you have a look at the preview (I customized it to be the first fifteen pages of the book, to allow you a full and proper feel for its substance, flow and feel), and at a bare maximum, that you actually purchase the book. Give me that chance, I won't disappoint you.

I've now published a book two years in a row. Like Woody Allen, I think I'll put out a full product once a year indefinitely. That's my ambition. I want a pile of my own books that are taller than me (Christopher Hitchens keeps a pile of his 22 books next to his desk for inspiration - that is SO cool!)

So please help me along this writing path of mine. Buy the book, enjoy it, and I promise to do my best to sign it for you. I signed approximately 80% of the Bush books that I sold and I just love doing that, LOVE it! Like Mary Roach (great writer!) has said, I'm a signing fool.

Thank you in advance for your interest.

JRunners Results from the Celebrate Israel Run 4M on 6/5/2011

2011-06-14T09:24:00.002-04:00

On a day that was officially 59 degrees, 72% humid, 5MPH windy and mostly cloudy, but really was 80 degrees, 95% humid, 0MPH windy and mostly sunny, 36 - count 'em, twice chai! - JRunners toed the line at the Celebrate Israel Run 4-miler. It was the largest JRunners participation in a non-JRunners race ever! Those 36 were comprised of 30 men and 6 women. What an awesome turnout!

The crowd was slightly smaller than usual (5,177), so most of us got over the start line pretty quickly and bolted through the gates in pursuit of glory and JRunners pride. The nearly-unanimous feedback upon arriving at the finish line was that the first two miles were pretty brisk for everyone, but the sun and the hills came out at mile 3, forcing some breaks and water stops. Nevertheless, the JRunners pack featured 6 sub-7:00 mile runners and 8 between 7:00-8:00. JRunners is not just getting bigger, it's getting faster!

The panache performance podium pack perched as phollows:

Pancer, Joseph, M41, 26:11, 6:33
Karlin, Michael, M39, 26:45, 6:42
Katz, Matt, M33, 27:16, 6:49

Age group winners were:

0-20: Bressler, Yaakov, M18, 27:40, 6:55
21-30: Pupko, Yisroel, M28, 32:56, 8:14
31-40: Bodek, Martin M36, 27:29, 6:53
41-50: Friedman, Israel, M42, 27:48, 6:57
51-60: Gross, Jerome, M53, 37:28, 9:22

Awards were handed out at the bustling JRunners booth in middle of the Central Park mall. The recipients were as follows:

The Frank the Tank Kickin' Us Old School Award: Joseph Pancer - Yossi recently changed his Facebook profile picture to that of his 2:39 finish at the Boston Marathon sometime in the last millenium. Perhaps he was motivating himself to recapture his youth. Recapture that he did! He taught the rest of us 35 punks a hard lesson by beating the next best competitor by 34 seconds. Great show, Yossi!

The Cotton Eyed Joe Where Did You Come From? Award: Michael Karlin - Michael was visiting from Bethesda, MD, and ironically finished his race at Bethesda Fountain with a super solid silver medal performance. Welcome Michael! Nice to have you join us! Stay for a while, it's nice in New York. If you don't, hey, you can get the corollary Where Did You Go? Award.

The Gunnery Sergeant Hartman Proper Motivation Award: Matt Katz - apparently, Matt woke up about 7 minutes before the race and was sleepily cruising along when he spotted Martin Bodek ahead of him and had this general conversation:

Matt: "Bodie! I'm gonna kill you!"
Bodie: "Oh, you got me, g'head!"
Matt: "I can't let you beat me! See you later!"
Bodie: "[inventive invective]"
Runner next to Bodie: "Oh, don't worry, he'll poop out."
Bodie: "I don't think he will!"

Then further down the course, Yossi Pancer spotted Matt ahead of him. Since Yossi was in middle of conducting a clinic, he blew past Matt who let out an audible "OMG" when marveling at Yossi's high-octane burst. Still, Matt took the bronze with yet another super-consistent run in a string of many.

The Rodeo Cowboy Stay on that Bull Award: Martin Bodek - Martin beat his 4M PR by 8 seconds. He finished mile 1 - which included Cat Hill - in 6:21. Without the hill, he thinks he could have done the mile in 6:05-6:10. For short races, he is now employing the Kenyan go-till-you-blow style of running, in which he goes as fast as he can, as hard as he can do it, until he just about unravels, recovers via hydration and deep breathing, and finishes strong. It's helped him PR in 9 of the 11 races he's run this year.

The Frank Sinatra The Best is Yet to Come Award: Yaakov Bresler - Yaakov is a young 18-year old whippersnapper wunderkind with a stride so beautiful, he doesn't even know it. He also doesn't realize how much power he produces from his super-fit body. JRunners predicts great things from Yaakov. He's built for it, made for it, looks the part, is a gamer, and if he sticks with it, will show us all how this is done. Yaakov, whatever you do in terms of diet, exercise, training etc. do NOT change your stride. You hear? It's perfect.

The Runited Airlines 8-Mile High Club: Avi Saperstein - Avi, new to the JRunners scene and improving quickly, got under 8 minutes per mile for a race for the first time in his career. Avi is an example of the recent trend of quickly (pun intended) improving runners. There are brand new sub-8 and sub-7 accomplishees (that a word?) galore. Avi can join the sub-7 club soon, and SOMEbody's gonna join the sub-6:00 club soon.

The Emerson, Lake and Palmer We're so Glad You Could Attend Award: Isaac Galena - Isaac, of Bangitout.com fame, has run much in parallel with us, but decided to run as part of our team. We're glad to have you aboard Isaac! You've got to see our show, it's a dynamo! Or at least, y'know, it's bangin'.

The Steve Prefontaine (Literal) Guts Award: Chesky Rand - It was so hot out there, that Chesky nearly lost his lunch at the finish line, and he had only just eaten breakfast! He did manage to hold it down though. Not only that, but he completely demolished his 4M PR by 1:30! NYRR was so impressed with his performance, that two days after the race they subtracted 1 whole second from his finishing time.

The NJRA Most Improved Player Award: David Balassiano - David's first run ever was the JRunners Chanukah 5K. It took him 43 minutes for a pace of 13:50 per mile. At the Celebrate Israel Run he completed the course in 39:44 minute for a 9:56 pace; a whopping 4 minute per mile improvement in just half a year. At this rate, he'll clobber the Kenyans by the beginning of 2012.

As for the ladies' performances, I could not secure permission to reveal their finishing times. As a man who got once got bonked over the head with a purse because I dared call a woman "ma'am," I know better than to speak of women, even complimentary, without permission. I'm a little batty sometimes, but I'm not suicidal.

Martin Bodek,
Beat Reporter, JRunners.org
63 days left, don't make me beg: http://www.jrunnersrelay.org/my/thebodie

Nothing Gets Between Me and My Vibrams

2011-05-27T10:29:00.003-04:00

Nothing Gets Between Me and My Vibrams
By
Martin Bodek

I have now run over 150 miles in my Vibrams. I love them. They I and are now as one. This is the during of a beautiful relationship.
I’m asked about them a lot, and have given Cliffs Notes versions of my full response that follows (namely, the headings of each paragraph). So if you’re curious about what I think about them – because apparently my opinion matters to you – please read on:

1) They’re not for everybody – We earthlings are not all built the same. Oh sure, we generally are derived from the same genetic soup, but we’re different in our nuances in many ways. As for those five-toed things we shod in leather and rubber and plastic and fabric, well, we have flat feet, we have wide feet, we have flipper snogger slog feet. Pardon my Seussian tangent, but you get my drift. These things are for some, not all.

2) But they’re worth a try – I mean c’mon, aren’t you curious? I sure was! They’re worth a try just to see if all the anecdotal theories about their injury-preventive properties are based in reality or not. They’re worth it just for the fascinating experience of trying them on. They’re worth it because it’s an entirely different running experience. So give them a whirl – because they’re worth it.

3) You have to break them in slowly – Before purchasing the footware, I researched the experiences of other VFF-shod runners and found much talk of injury, nearly all related to running practical ultramarathons right out of the box. Dial it back people! I refused to make such an error. I purchased them one week after the NYC Marathon, wore them around the house for a week, rested, walked around the block a few times, rested, ran a quarter mile, rested, then a mile, rested, then more, and slightly more and I’ve avoided injury entirely. Follow my example instead of the example of lunatics. Easy does it and you’ll reap the rewards.

4) They’re not for cold weather – Because your toes are encased in separate chambers, they can’t rely on each other for warmth, and you can barely wiggle your toes. This makes for a disastrous situation in seriously cold weather. I tried the Injinji socks, but I find they bite into the webbing between my toes. So I wear Nike Frees (a slightly lower rung on the barefoot running ladder) when it’s terribly cold and wear my VFFs the rest of the time.

5) Your physique will change – I’ve been running for 16 years and have always been pleased with the appearance of my calves. Suddenly though, my calves have exploded. I’ve added a half inch to their size in just a few months. You practically feel them exploding if you run properly on the balls of your feet, which by the way, takes pressure off of every body part from the knees up. Unsightly black toenails are a thing of the past. Also fascinating are the calluses that are forming on the bottom of my feet. I should have taken before and after pictures. During and after won’t do, I’m afraid. I have the feet of a firewalker!

6) People will stare at your feet – You know how people stare at their BlackBerrys while allegedly having a face-to-face conversation with you? That’s what this will be like. I now have a clue what women feel like when people stare at their chests when attempting to have a conversation, which they’re apparently having so they can stare at their chests from close range. You might find yourself having a conversation with a fellow runner about your Vibrams and if asked to identify you in a lineup, will fail miserably.

So there you have it. Six distinct points. One for each toe. Um, I think my math is off a bit, but then again, so am I for loving these things so much. Hey, you might too.

-
In just 81 days, Martin will be running the JRunners Relay Race - in his Vibrams - to benefit the Ohr Meir foundation. Please assist him with meeting his fundraising obligations: http://www.jrunnersrelay.org/my/thebodie

JRunners Genesis

2011-05-20T10:42:00.003-04:00

JRunners Genesis
By
Martin Bodek

In the beginning, there were just a few of us. There was me, and my dad, and Yossi Pancer and Ariel Kohane. There were a handful of other clustered groups of tribemembers scattered about the five boroughs whom we encountered on occasion at races, and thirty or so of us would meet annually at the New York City Marathon Minyan.

And we loved running, and partook of the races on the NYRR calendar, and ran our marathons and piled up big numbers and fast numbers, but our little club never grew beyond the few of us. It was a bit lonely out there on the roads, surrounded by fellow runners with whom we parted ways after races.

Oh sure, occasionally someone would say “shalom” and wish us Happy New Year before Rosh Hashana. We’d wear our yarmulkas like beacons but we were like lighthouses in the fog, unheeded, unseen and ignored.

We kept on though, piling up the numbers, 16 marathons for Ariel,15 for me, 9 for Yossi, 5 for my dad. Hundreds upon hundreds of local races in total, but no matter how much we ran together, we really ran alone, and waited for the day our friends would catch on, and join us. We would run together, dine together, partake together in each other’s lives and enjoy the fine bread of brotherhood.

The day came in the form of a flyer: a 125-mile 30-leg relay race from Brooklyn to the Catskills. A club called JRunners. There’d be music, there’d be food, there’d be camaraderie, there’d be adventure and excitement. They were running to raise funds for a friend stricken with ALS. They were looking for a few good men.

And before I could take my eyes off the flyer, the e-mails started pouring in from the people in my life who knew I’d been at this for a while and knew I’d be interested.

And before I could finish processing all these e-mails, I received a call from Matt Katz – one of the three founders of this nascent club – and before I hung up the phone, I was sold, I was running this thing.

There was a pre-race expo soon after in Brooklyn - the home I’d left for greener pastures - in the building where I worked more than a decade and a half before, and the floodgates of old friends opened up, and poured forth like a might stream. There was Martin Maltz, and Chesky Rand and Aaron Rosenfeld and dozens of others I had not placed my eyes upon in years and years and years. I was enveloped, I was back home, it was a reunion that nearly brought me to tears, but I held back; there’s no crying in running.

And the race was afoot a week later.

And we ran through the stifling humidity and the encompassing darkness and the rising sun and the pounding rain and the hot, hot heat of the day.

But neither sleeplessness nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stayed these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

We finished amongst a flurry of palpable energy, as all of Brooklyn and its environs had turned out to cheer the runners on at the finish line.

Yet I was not there, having bailed after my last leg to return to Brooklyn in time to attend a friend’s wedding. So exhausted was I from my journey that I literally fell asleep in my soup, and smiled when I did so, knowing that I would return next year to experience that finish line that people talked about for months and months and months.

A week after the race, we gathered together for an appreciation event. The captains of each team told their amazing stories and held their audience in rapture. I learned that many fellow runners had run 7, 8, 9, 10 marathons, but all in the past two or three years! I praised G-d that I and Ariel and Yossi and my dad were not yet too old to enjoy this renaissance. In a short time, my total number of races run would no longer stand out in the crowd, but instead I would just be one in a collective, running with my band of brothers, breaking bread with them, rejoicing with them, enjoying life with them, gathering with 140 of them at the JRunners-revitalized International NYC Marathon Minyan.

And JRunners put on a 5k race in December of that year, and I partook, and I enjoyed. And JRunners put on a 5k race in the following April, and I partook, and I reveled. And JRunners has more races coming up, and the second relay races looms mightily in the approaching distance, and I will partake of this wonderfulness, and I will run with my brethren.

For we have climbed highest mountain, we have run through the fields, and we finally found what we were looking for.

For I see every thing that JRunners has made, and, behold, it is very good. And it was evening and it was morning, a new era.
-
Martin would be grateful if you sponsored his upcoming JRunners relay run benefiting the Ohr Meir Foundation: http://www.jrunnersrelay.org/my/thebodie

Their Big Fat English Wedding

2011-05-15T20:28:00.003-04:00

Their Big Fat English Wedding
By
Martin Bodek

It is often wisely advised that if you do not wish to listen to the ranting of a specific radio personality, switch the dial. If you’re not interested in the opinion of a particular newspaper journalist, turn the page. If you don’t want to watch the day’s news, turn off the TV and fall asleep with a good book on your chest.

Every once in a while though, a particular news item becomes so loud, and coverage becomes so pervasive, that there is no dial to turn, no newspaper page to riffle, no news station to flip in order to hide from it and partake in something else - anything else.

The Royal Wedding was one such event. There existed not a remote enough place on Earth, not an oasis sufficiently far afield, not an isolated patch of land where the incessant news of this did not reach. People stranded on deserted islands got the message in a bottle, jungle dwellers had The Royal Tune sung to them by birds of paradise, Bear Grylls himself got it in skywriting while filming an episode of Man vs. Wild in the Mars outback.

As for me, I tried to hide from it by listening to music on the radio, but it seemed every commercial break was preceded and followed by Royal Gossip. I tried to watch some TV, any TV, that I thought wouldn’t bother covering it, but the information was practically fixed in a permanent news scroll stuck at the bottom of the screen on every show. I tried escaping to the sports pages in my paper, but there it was, in the betting section. Who would cry the first tear? What color would the queen’s hat be? You’ve got to be kidding me.

What nauseated me though, was the patently absurd level of detail. It’s one thing to comment on what it means to the people of England, how Princess Diana’s absence affects matters, how work stopped in the English empire for maximum attention to the event. This is legitimate news coverage.

Not legitimate were some details I accidentally listened to while trying to switch radio stations to escape from this news: Oh really? Kate hasn't yet perfected The Royal Wave? Oh, poor baby. And she has to go to classes to learn The Royal Lilt? You must be joking. Kiss your husband awkwardly so we can all move on.

When I launched CNN’s website to look for information on another matter, I had to scroll past 3,482 sickeningly inane Royal Materials before I could get to legitimate news. Fourth from the top was this nugget: ”Wedding Dress Mystery Solved.” There was a mystery about her dress that needed solving? Really? Just call Scooby Doo and the gang and they'll take care of it.

To me, the part that’s fascinating is the mundane experiences of everyday life that Princess Kate will never again have to endure. She will never wait for the electicity bill to arrive, then complain to her husband that he hasn’t called in the numbers like he’s supposed to so the utility can get an accurate reading. The only difficult thing she’ll endure as far as raising her children will be actually giving birth to them. The rest she’ll farm out to the help. If they grow up to be brats, so what? They’re royalty! So ha! And she has no use for a last name! This is all interesting to me.

If you ask me, I think all this coverage is because Her Royal Highness Princess Catherine Elizabeth Neé Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, Countess of Strathearn, Baroness of Carrickfergus, wife of His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis Neé Mountbatten-Windsor, Duke of Cambridge, Earl of Strathearn, Baron Carrickfergus is smoking hot; the hottest Brit not named Amanda Holden; way hotter than desperately-in-need-of-a-sandwich Posh Spice – the first woman on earth to lose ten pounds every time she has a child; certainly she has the best set of teeth in the United Kingdom.

I’ll tell you though, the one bit of news I found terribly amusing were the guffaw-inducing hats sported by some of the wedding guests. I hear Her Royal Weirdness Lady Gaga Neé Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, Duchess of New York, Countess of Glam, Baroness of The Meatpacking Dress District fired her publicist on the spot for not co-opting the look first.

That’s news to me. I was born this way.

Martin is the author of “Bush II, Book I,” available on Lulu.com.

My Coworker Died in My Arms

2011-05-11T20:57:00.000-04:00

There are people in this world who witness death on a recurring basis. These would perhaps be soldiers in the battlefield or hospital staff. There are those who encounter it on an occasional basis. These would probably be firemen and policemen. Finally, there are those who almost never come face to face with human demise, but eventually, over the course of a long lifetime, inevitably will. This would be you and me.

But no matter how frequently or infrequently one experiences the parting of a human soul from its host, the first time must rattle us in profound and memorable ways.

On May 11, 2011 it was the first time for me. Yes, I had once been asked - during a visit to my late grandmother in the hospital - to hurry to a room where a man was expiring, so that I could join with ten men in a quorum to say the proper prayers for a soul departing to heaven. At that point however, the gentleman's fate was sealed and the lines long gone flat, and the machinations of the hospital staff a mere formality.

This time however, it was a man - a coworker, a friend - in his vitality, who went from his normal, cheerful, everyday, working self to lifelessness in a matter of minutes, right before my eyes, and right in my very arms.

This is what happened:

We work in the technology field. Our office space is divided into cubicles. We're in a basement with piping that makes odd sounds every once in a while. So odd, that some customers on the phone sometimes comment on it.

I thought I heard the sound again, but it was a bit different this time. So different it caught my attention. The pipes were making a strange choking sound. Choking sound? What are the pipes doing making a choking sound? Should I report this to Facilities? No wait, that sounds like a person choking!

I got up out of my seat to see if everything was alright with anyone present. Two cubicles over, my coworker was on the ground. He was on his stomach. He was seizing. I had witnessed a seizure before. I knew what I had to do. I ran over to him and rolled him onto his side as the seizures continued. I grabbed at his tongue and jaw to keep his airway open. I tried to calm him and jostle him awake.

One other colleague was in a nearby space. I asked him to call a nurse and call 911. He did just that as I continued to keep the airway open and keep our friend on his side. He was of considerable size, so I had to hold on to him to keep him sideways. I didn't want to violently shove him to a wall for stabilization.

Suddenly things changed. I had felt something of a pulse before, but it was now gone. I couldn't find it. His jaw clenched, he wet himself, his face and fingers started turning blue, his eyes opened and his irises blew all the way to the corneas. There was no more inhalation or choking or seizing or movement or anything. All I could feel was one steady, slowly, softly exhaling breath, and then there was nothing.

This was not good. This was not good at all. I understood that the seizure was not something to worry about now. Everything had stopped. I had to start compressions. I pushed him onto his back and began.

The head nurse appeared. She placed an oxygen mask over his mouth, continued compressions. More nursing staff came. A Code Blue was called. We moved him to a more open area. My colleague who had placed the calls performed some compressions, then starting cutting at our coworker's shirt. I was so desperate to DO something that I practically shoved him aside, grabbed the shirt, and yanked it apart with one stroke. More nurses came. They opened the airway, they bagged him, they brought the electronic defibrillator, they compressed and compressed and compressed and got nothing in return.

The paramedics arrived fifteen minutes into the ordeal. They continued where the nurses left off, pumping the bag, compressing, trying to get a line in. This proved difficult because of his heft and the EMTs practically drilled holes into him to get the line in. Blood streamed from his shin and wrist.

I stepped back to give them room and called my supervisor to apprise him of what was going on. My right hand was shaking so badly I couldn't grip the receiver.

They took our friend away, twenty minutes after I heard the sounds that began the nightmare.

Dozens of people were in our office space, which seats only seven people. All of them were stunned. They all left mournfully, defeated and saddened.

Those of us who witnessed everything stayed behind and placed calls to our supervisors providing them with all the detail. Through some cosmic accident, it fell to me to explain to our coworker's wife exactly what happened. I tried to be as minimally graphic as possible, but I couldn't think straight. I think I rambled. I was not prepared for this. I did my best. She seemed to be calmer than I was.

After this conversation, I called my supervisor. I told him I need to take the rest of the day off. I needed to see my wife and to cling to her.

En route to seeing her, our CIO arranged a conference call for the IT staff. I dialed in on my cell. He confirmed that our friend was gone and thanked me and my colleague and everyone present for their efforts. I was just grateful that I had the presence of mind to know what I needed to do and to do it. My only panic moment was when I delivered the information to the wife, nay, widow, but I think I did okay in that regard.

My wife came out to meet me. I talked it all out with her. It put me in a centered place. We traveled home together and I hugged my children dearly when we came home.

Once they were asleep I set about writing this piece. Writing is my therapy. I feel better by a few more degrees. They'll be offering counseling at my workplace, and I'll take advantage of it. I'm not a stubborn man, and I'm not sure or unsure if I've endured anything in the realm of PTSD.

I did what I could under the circumstances, so I don't blame myself for that. I think I do blame myself a little bit for not motivating my friend to get himself in shape. I do so for many other friends, why didn't I do so with him? I may have failed him in this regard.

So the moral for me is to continue living my healthy life and doing my best to motivate others to do the same. The moral for you is to take good care of yourself. I think we'd all prefer to shuffle off this mortal coil in our sleep at a time when we've been old and full of days, rather than at the young age of 54, leaving twin fifteen year old girls behind.

They'll miss him terribly, and we, his coworkers, will miss him profoundly and I will miss him inestimably. He was a good man and he was too young when he left us. Rest in peace, my friend.

My Run-in with Yankees Security - and the Start of "Bad Behavior II"

2011-04-07T14:26:00.003-04:00

While "The Year of Bad Behavior" is being finalized (Coming soon! Patience!), I've been patiently waiting for an interesting story to begin "Bad Behavior II: More Scalawags, Dirtbags, Bullyrags and Lollygags" (Whaddya think of the title?). Finally, I got my story, and this is how my new book will begin:

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

I try to head out to The Stadium at least once a year to catch my beloved Yankees. I usually go with my brothers-in-law. They and my wife are from Minnesota, and the trash-talking is a lovely enhancement of the baseball experience.

My party makes its way inside and I’m last in, but security stops me. This is the conversation that ensues:

Security guy: “That’s a Kindle.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Security guy: “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t come into the stadium with a Kindle.”
Me: “What?”
Security guy: “I’m sorry, you can’t come in with it.”
Me: “Why not?”
Security guy: “Um, hey , I’ve got a guy with a Kindle.”
Pit boss: “I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in with a Kindle.”
Me: “Why not?”
Pit boss: “It’s a distraction, sir.”
Me: “A distraction? A distraction for what?”
Pit boss: “Fouls balls, announcements n’ stuff.”
Me: “In that case, you shouldn’t let me in with this book (Too Far From Home, by Chris Jones), or anyone with a BlackBerry or phone, or kids!”
Pit boss: “I’m sorry sir, I don’t make the policy.”
Me: “Of course you don’t. Fine, is there a locker I can rent where I can put in my bag?”
Pit boss: “No sir, sorry.”
Me: “What? Is Yankee stadium going to turn away my business?”
Pit boss: “Well, there are stores around where you can rent a locker.”
Me: “Okay, can you point me to one?”
Pit boss: “Try Stan’s, it’s about a block and a half that way.”

So I look for Stan’s, which is half a block away, but there are no lockers to speak of, just open space behind the counter. And whaddya know is back there? Dozens of Kindles with tags on them!

I grab some food from the kosher stand, rejoin my group, wipe off the slight drizzle from my seat, sit myself down, enjoy the atmosphere – and the game is postponed.

Postponed? This isn’t even rain! It’s mist! I say, if we can sit through it, you can play through it. Somebody get me the Steinbrenners on the phone. Arrrgh, whatever, I’m outta here, and I’m sure the policy about rained out tickets is a very simple process.

On the train home, three clearly inebriated Yankee fans spot a Twins fan halfway down the train (overlooking my brother-in-law and nephew, whose hats are covered by hoodies) and have the following conversation at 145 decibels:

Drunks: “Ahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Minnesota sucks!”
Twinkie: “Yeah, well they didn’t suck last night!”
Sots: “Yeah, well they sucked the night before! Hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Minnesotan: “Yeah, well they sucked against Texas last year!”
Boozers: “Yeah, well you suck! Ahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Okay, so they don’t descend into “Hey Trebek, I had shecks with your mother lasht night” territory, but jeez, can you keep it down a bit? And how drunk are you when we didn’t even get a game in???

Results of the JRunners Run for Our Place 5.55k

2011-04-06T11:39:00.015-04:00

Results of the JRunners Run for Our Place 5.55k
by Martin Bodek

JRunners has blazed a path for itself via various races and surrounding events. The club has received much attention for its preaching of fitness in the Jewish community and strong ties to important organizations within. They have raised awareness for ALS via their inaugural Brooklyn-to-Catskills relay race, are now benefiting the Ohr Meir foundation via their second relay race this year, and organized a fun loop around Prospect Park for the benefit of Our Place to raise funds to avoid having the facility and its services shut down.

On a gorgeous morning, the likes of which have not been enjoyed by runners in these parts for months, 101 men and 113 women toed the line for the 5k-and-then-some race on Sunday, April 3rd, 2011.

The start was electric with the music blasting, the dignitaries speeching, the runners reminiscing, Shlomie Dachs anthem renditioning, and out-of-the-starting-gate blasting. For the men’s race, The Hill made quick work out of the runners who did not expect the steep, sustained incline. Once the running of The Hill was complete, the top six positions held pretty much until the finish line, proving how brutal and everlasting that hill actually is.

The top 10 males completed the 5.55k course in the following order:

1 Mordechai Ovits, 34, 22:16, 6:27/M
2 Yaakov Bressler, 18, 22:35, 6:33/M
3 Matt Katz, 33, 22:50, 6:37/M
4 Moshe Gamss, 25, 23:27, 6:48/M
5 Martin Bodek, 35, 23:49 6:54/M
6 Yoel Sontag, 16, 23:59, 6:57/M
7 Moishe Sanders, 45, 24:09, 7:00/M
8 Sender Kruto, 45, 24:21, 7:03/M
9 Yisroel Pupko, 30, 24:27, 7:05/M
10 Steven Gelbtuch, 29, 24:33, 7:07/M

Age group victors were:

13-19: Yoel Sontag
20-29: Moshe Gamss
30-39: Martin Bodek
40-49: Moishe Sanders
50-59: Daniel Stirewalt
60-69: Noah Lantor

For the women’s race, the top 10 ladies completed their loop as follows:

1 Dena Nierenberg,NY, ?, 27:25, 7:57/M
2 Baila Miller, 44, 28:38, 8:18/M
3 Rachel Weissman, 25, 28:53, 8:23/M
4 Abigail Bryskin, 29, 28:59, 8:24/M
5 Leah Salomon, 24, 29:16, 8:31/M
6 Sheindy Brach, 28, 30:19, 8:47/M
7 Miriam Wielgus, 46, 30:24, 8:49/M
8 Mimi Strauss, 33, 30:30, 8:50/M
9 Miriam Soffer, 53, 30:44, 8:54/M
10 Chani Jeter, 26, 31:29, 9:08/M

Age group champions were:

13-19: Nechama Kurland
20-29: Abigail Bryskin
30-39: Mimi Strauss
40-49: Miriam Wielgus
50-59: Miriam Soffer
60-69: Hilda Zoldan
70-79: Erna Bollag

Once the handsome trophies and well-earned medals were handed out to the deserving recipients, the following were handed out in the minds and hearts of all the runners. If we can work fast enough, these will one day soon take place in the real world:

The Will Smith I Make this Look Good award: Mordechai Ovits – Mordechai took it real easy, with an upright gait, legs close together and eaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasygoing stride. He kept the same form over The Hill as he did at the finish, taking his first-ever crown by nineteen seconds over the next competitor.

The Secretariat 31 Lengths Award: Dena Nierenberg – Dena destroyed her competition in the women’s race and strode across the finish line in 27:25, fully one minute and thirteen seconds over second place. Wow.

The Montell Jordan This is How We do It Award: Yaakov Bressler – Yaakov loped into second place with a running form that the elites use: The kicking yourself in the behind stride. If you watch films of champion sprinters, you will notice this unique style of running, which is difficult to maneuver into if you’ve been running for years. Therefore, Yaakov, don’t change the way you run. You’re 18 and off to an awesome start.

The Ce Ce Peniston Finally Award: Martin Bodek – in Martin’s 143rd professional road race in 15 years of running, he medaled for the first time, obliterating his 5k PR by 33 seconds en route to the 5.55k finish. Martin could not believe he hung with the leader pack over The Hill and through to the finish. He credits his goofy Vibram shoes and forefoot striking for his newfound propulsion. We’ll be expecting big things from him.

The Muhammad Ali Rumble Young Man Rumble Award: Yoel Sontag – Not only was Yoel was the youngest male competitor in the race, he placed 6th overall despite dropping his yarmulke at the 5k mark and losing valuable seconds sprinting back for it. Impressive Kiddush Hashem and impressive running performance.

The Laila Ali Rumble Young Lady Rumble Award: Zoe Poznanski – all of 9 years old, Zoe ran with her grandmother, Savta Lynn, all the way to the finish line and crossed together at 50:44. 9! Awesome! Zoe’s dad, Mark (Lynn’s son) followed closely behind to make sure both his daughter and mom were okay. Three generations! Awesomer!

The Renaissance of the Middle Ages Award: Moishe Sanders – Moishe taught some young fellas a thing or two with his 7th place (and age group champion) placing. We are impressed.

The Dean Karnazes Run to the Race Award: Yisroel Pupko – Sruli ran – and showed GPS evidence of this – 3.45 miles to the 3.45 mile race to make it on time. Hey, Sruli, next time, run clockwise from the zoo instead of counterclockwise, and you’ll be at the start in 20 seconds.

The Steve Prefontaine Guts Award: Chani Jeter – This is our favorite award to hand out. We actively seek out and pore over all the injury stories to find the one that is most inspiring to us. We found one in Chani’s story: Three months ago, she slipped on a patch of ice and tore two ligaments in her left heel. She was given the all-clear to run just two weeks ago. She signed up to run on the Thursday preceding the race and placed 10th in the women’s race. Great show, Chani! Now we think you should go back to heel-tapping, because it hasn’t helped your batting average so far. Oh, CHANI Jeter. Oops.

The Family that Runs Together Award: Chesky and Shaindi Rand – your humble beat reporter has been fomenting some spousling rivalry amongst this happy couple, and it’s finally proven fruitful. Chesky demolished his per mile PR by 16 seconds and Shaindi took the gold for her age group. I’d call this round a draw.

The Tergat/Ramaala Photo Finish Award: Shim Perlman and Jesse Asher - Shim and Jesse crossed the finish line arm-over-shoulder together (the reason for which is still being investigated) in unison with such precision that both clocked at exactly 32:54.3. This means, you realize, that they started at the exact same time as well. They can start a new Olympic sport called Synchronized Running.

The Biggest Loser/Greatest Gainer Award: David Balassiano – Before: 273 pounds, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, 82nd place in the first JRunners 5k. After: 203 pounds, normal blood pressure, normal cholesterol, no diabetes, 47th place in his second JRunners 5k. David plans to join us for the 200k and promises to do his best to be the first Sephardi to win a 5k race. To this we can only say Ya’alili!

The The Doobie Brothers Takin’ it to the Streets Award: Shoshanna Friedman – Shoshanna keeps fit at home in Queens, but heard about the race through her association with Our Place. She showed up and claimed the bronze medal for her age category! Not bad for the first time out at a road race! She asked that our very own trainer, Chaim Backman, get recognition for his invaluable assistance to her and opined that JRunners is a nice group of people. Oh GO on!

The Methusela Award: Noah Lantor and Erna Bollag – Noah and Erna were our most senior finishers, and how old they are is none of your business, thank you very much.

The Dick and Rick Hoyt Be All You Can Be Award: Aron Greenstien Pushed his grandfather Avraham Silverman in his wheelchair all the way to the finish. Mr. Silverman is 88 years old, and is a veteran of the U.S. Army. He served our country in World War II in North Africa in the infantry and in Italy as a bomber against the axis powers. I was proud to be standing next to these two gentlemen as the National Anthem was played.

The Kelly Gneiting I’ll Crawl if I Have to Award: Chanina “Sam” Grush – Sam is extremely passionate about Our Place, and signed up to complete the race no matter what. Sam weighs 500 pounds, but would not be daunted, saying, “If it takes me all day, I will crawl to the finish line, or if need be, walk cross-country in order to garner support and donations to keep Our Place going.”

And therefore, with an exclamation point, you can see why JRunners partnered with Our Place for this amazing, fun and important race.
-
If you buy Martin’s book – Bush II, Book I, available on lulu.com – then he would be delighted to sign it for you at the next JRunners 5k race, taking place Sunday, May 22nd in Teaneck, NJ.

Ya’alili Music Video: A Play-by-Play Review

2011-04-05T12:54:00.004-04:00

http://www.bangitout.com/articles/viewarticle.php?a=3220

It behooves you as a Jewish music lover to watch the following video and not immediately consider converting to another religion.

After all, the music is awesome. The cinematography is top rate. But the music video - shot in a kosher supermarket with product placement and singing fish - is troubling on a variety of levels. Most of which, that someone actually thought of this as a cool music video idea. (they were right, 200k views later) Therefore, to really appreciate this magical bizarre video without throwing up in your mouth - we sincerely suggest mass amounts of narcotics before viewing. So now a brief play by play:

“Ya’alili” is a meaningless word that translates to “meaningless word.” It is also the hottest hummable stuck-in-your-ear candy-coated music sensation since The Maccabeats sang their way into America’s hearts with their knockoff-of-a-knockoff song “Candlelight.”

“Ya’alili" is sung by the group “8th Day” and is YouTubable at a kosher browser near you. The video begins in Pomegranate, a grocery store designed by a squad of architects tripping on acid, by showcasing Jews from every walk of life: the Haredi Jew, the Litvish Jew, the Zionistic Jew, the Hippie Jew and the token PC black guy who clearly found himself in the wrong supermarket.

Before the music begins, the story is framed by your now-standard token Jew-with-a-chip-on-his-shoulder-who-will-see-the-light-of-day-before-the-clip-is-over. He’s closely related to the now-standard Jew-hurls -epithets-at-the-Gentile-help-but-has-change-of-heart-once-he-learns-Leroy-or-Guadalupe-actually-understands-Yiddish-but-has-hidden-that-fact-for-twenty-years.

The happy-go-lucky cashier, who is unaware he’s above water because he’s still wearing goggles, announces “Ya’alili” over the PA, and the music and dancing and grooving begins. Why he is wearing a winter coat? Just adds to his mystery.

Then suddenly this modern kosher supermarket is infiltrated by snakecharmer Sephardic musicians and guitarists in the cereal aisle. If you haven't started on those pills, please do so now.

A teenager mopping the floor suddenly goes Fred Astaire by dancing with a mop. The kid’s got moves. Like The Maccabeats, he won’t be single for long, if indeed he isn’t yet spoken for.

The butchers in the meat department then start banging their knives around, dangerously close to each other. Since the closing credits don’t say, “No shochtim were harmed in the making of this film,” it must be assumed that indeed, and unfortunately, they must have massacred each other.

Then three fish sing part of the chorus, which proves, once again, especially after the scandal in Monsey and tons of historic folklore along the same lines, that Jews simply love talking fish.

The Sephardic Jews again, with their traditional jam band outfits in the dairy section! Man, this would be great to watch while on drugs.

Wait, is that one of the butchers on the drums? Where’s the other guy? Whoa, maybe I was right. Oh, there he is again. Pshew!

And now the singers break for an apparent hot stuff eating contest. Interesting. Did you know the hotness of peppers is rated in scovilles? Now you do. (sellout alert!)

There’s the dancing kid again, definitely spoken for at this point, and the butchers dancing like Rockettes, and more hippie Jews, and the guitarist is choking on the peppers, and there are those hilarious fish again!

Trippy musical interlude by the musicians dressed like Sefardi royalty, and hey, is that Balki Bartokomous? And where did that Lubavitcher guy come from? Nice moves!

Speaking of moves, that good-looking kid is back. Whoa, put him on Cirque-du-Soleil with those crazy backflips! And look, he’s joined by his friends, dancing NSYNC/Backstreet Boys style.

Back to our chip-on-the-shoulder Jewish friend, who’s suddenly realized LSD is some real, real good stuff, and exits the store, presumably directly into traffic.

Aaaaaand credits, every one of which is Chaim Marcus. Why doesn’t he just put everything he did in one shot? Couldn’t he get some help anyway? Did he really do this all by himself? And how come there’s no acting credits? I recognize some of the actors, but can’t quite place them.

Anyway, the video is mostly meaningless fun. In other words, it’s all Ya’alili.

Martin Bodek is co-founder of TheKnish.com, beat reporter for Jrunners.org, surname columnist for Jewishworldreview.com, and author of "Bush II, Book I," availalble on lulu.com.

My 5.55K PR - and First Ever Running Medal!!!

2011-04-04T11:33:00.007-04:00

The fastest and greatest race of my life, hands down. The weather was perfect, I was well-rested, psyched and feeling really good. We busted out of the starting gate in a hurry, but the immediate hill quickly weeded out the hacks while the elites left them all in the dust. Halfway up that hill, I was in 2nd place, with the leader 20 feet in front of me, and I thought, "Is he not going that fast, or am I faster than I think I am?" I think it was a combination of both. Once the hill was done, I was passed by 3 runners (Ovits, Gamss, Bresler), and these positions held all the way till the finish, proving how ridiculously difficult that hill is, and how it really does separate the chaff from the wheat.

Mile 1: Finished, including The Hill, in 7:17.

Mile 2: 6:35, I repeat, 6:35. I don't think I've ever gone faster for a mile during a race.

Mile 3: 6:44. I hit the mark in 20:38, 6:53 per mile to that point.

Mile 3.1. I hit the 5k mark at 21:20, obliterating my 5K PR by 33 seconds, still holding on to the 6:53 pace, 9 seconds per mile faster for any 5k I've ever run.

Then a kid in front of me dropped his yarmulka. As I passed, I said, "Oops, that'll slow you down a bit." I didn't mean anything by it. However, he put on his yarmulka, bolted past me, and said, "Bye!" as he did so. He forgot the number 1 rule of Martin Bodek's Competitive Running Club: You do not trash Martin Bodek, else he will thrash you. So I thrashed him and kicked his skinny little punk-ass as I motored past him and left him flagging in my wake.

Mile 3.45: I thundered across the finish line in ‎23:49! 5th place! 1st in my age group! first racing medal of my life! 6:54 per mile! Woohoo!

http://ourplace5k.jrunners.org/jrunners/cute_editor_uploads/JRunners5KRunforOurPlaceMensRaceResults.pdf

I Wrote Another Book!

2011-02-07T19:35:00.002-05:00

I am overjoyed, overdelighted and overdelirious to inform you that after a year of effort, I have finished writing my second book.

It's called "The Year of Bad Behavior: Bearing Witness to the Uncouthiest of Humanity, or What is the MATTER with You People???"

I've admired the recent trend to experience/partake/endure something for a year and write about it (See here: http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20335162,00.html), and I wanted a piece of that action.

So for a full year, every day, every single day, I recorded all the nose-pickers, nail-clippers, cellphone-yappers, lane cut-offers, people who stand akimbo, child slappers, personal space invaders, stores that have cashiers who can't decipher coupons, customer service idiots, the rude, the people who need BlackBerry helmets, line cutters, escalator mudsticks, teenagers discussing what liquids induce abortion, and that's just in the first five pages!

Now there's yet more work to be done: There's much editing I have to do, agent and publisher rejections to collect, ackowledgements and various appendices that need to be written and I need to secure the services of a cover artist in the event that I have to self-publish.

I hope to have the final product for you in about six weeks. Until that time, I'd like very much to pique your interest and lobby for your eventual purchase. As the book is written in diary form, I ask that you send me your birthday, and I will gladly send that day's entry to you as a teaser. This will also assist me in catching typos and grammatical errors, so I thank you in advance for your interest and for your de facto editing assistance.

As for my first book, I just received my first W2 from the royalties I received - which was a huge thrill - and it is still available for 40% off until I sell my 40th copy. You can purchase it here: http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/bush-ii-book-i/6254252

As for the sequel to my first book, I'll have you know that it's currently about 44% complete and I hope to finish before the end of the year so I can begin working on the "Obama" book. Yes, it won't be called "Obama, Book I" because there won't be a "Book II." :-)

Again, I thank you for your interest and and am always and ever grateful to al those who have contributed to the W2 I received. So cool.

-Martin (Mordechi) Bodek

My blog: http://www.martinbodek.com/

My site: http://www.theknish.com/

My book: http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/bush-ii-book-i/6254252

My column: http://www.jewishworldreview.com/1110/bodek2.php3

My politics: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/apr/06/mean-regs-and-scam/

1 Race Down (a 5M PR!), 9 to Go

2011-01-09T15:59:00.001-05:00

Despite the bone chilling cold that a) rocketed through my Vibrams and threatened to break my toes off, b) forced me to duck in to apartment buildings every few blocks on the way to the park to rewarm my toes, c) relegated me to taking shelter in a portapotty for 25 minutes while I warmed my toes back to life, and despite having to dodge water cups (they would have killed my feet, KILLED them!), horespoop and the salt that Mayor Bloomberg finally put down, and despite overlayering due to the arctic temperatures, I completely annihilated my old 5 mile PR by 1:51, making mincemeat (with the log-rolling technique) of the two hills in my way to finish at 36:28, 7:17 per mile, 9 seconds behind the director of the NYRRC.

I ran over to her and told her that she's my rabbit this year, and I'm going to beat her, and she said, "Whoa! And you did that with all those layers!!!"

The breakdown: Mile 1: 7:33. I told myself that wasn't good enough, so mile 2 was 7:07, mile 3 was 7:12, then I actually dialed back because I'd never run further in my Vibrams and I was NOT going to do anything stupid this early in the season, and I STILL did 7:17 over Cat Hill, then dialed it WAY back and STILL did 7:19. So it's 2 races this year and 2 PRs. 4 mile PR gets dropped on 2/6.

My 15th Marathon Run - and New PR!

2010-11-09T13:50:00.000-05:00

Let me not keep you in suspense for a moment longer than is necessary: I crossed the finish line in 4:10:23, clobbering my old PR by 14:26 and finally coming in under the time goal (4:20) that I had set for myself 15 years ago when I embarked on my running lifestyle.

That’s the boring part. The exciting part is how I put it all together and pulled it off.

It began 3.5 seconds after concluding last year’s marathon. I crossed the line in 4:53:45 and was obviously delighted to have finished another marathon but immediately furious with myself at my increased inability to make my 4:20 time goal. I figured I have another 10-12 years of setting PRs before Old Man Time catches up to me, but I wasn’t going to wait that long. I want 4:20 NOW.

I then inundated myself with piles of reading and books and research and studies and expert commentary and crawled out from under the pile of information with a multi-step approach to tackling the problem.

First I was going to run through the winter. I had read much about wear and tear on the human body and learned that the general consensus is that the body is designed for wear (i.e. slamming into pavement in metronomic fashion), but not tear (i.e. twisting motions ever-present in sports like football and basketball). So I did run through the winter and my legs became much, much stronger as a result.

Then I stopped stretching pre-run. I read the results of study after study on this topic and determined that I would try this as well. I stretched very, very lightly and my results were that I did not endure any muscle pull or strain or tweak or tear for the entire year.

Then I decided to lose weight so that a) gravity would have less of an effect on me, and b) my body would become more efficient. I was surprised to learn that one’s body needs less oxygen when it weighs less. It needs less to function. How interesting. I found this to be true. As I was losing weight, I absolutely stopped feeling any pain from the waist up on any running distance. My lungs were simply not taxed as much as they used to be. I lost seventeen pounds.

Then I bought into the whole barefoot/minimalist running craze. I purchased the Nike Frees; nothing more than a slipper with padding. My hip, knee and ankle pain ceased immediately. Blisters and black toenails were relegated to the dustbin of my history.

Then I resolved a chafing problem by investing in Nipguards.

Then I built jogging routes where the first half was uphill, so I trashed my hammies, and the second half was downhill, so I trashed my quads.

Then during the summer I participated in the Jrunners Relay Race, an enthralling and exciting event that absolutely catapulted and energized the rest of my training.

Then I got the perfect running shorts, with a series of easily-accessible pockets running along the top of the waist which would house my supplies like a utility belt.

Then good things started happening.

I destroyed by Marathon Tune-up 18 Mile record by more than ten minutes.

I came within 34 seconds of my nine-year old half-marathon PR.

I put in my longest ever training run of 19 miles.

A week later, I put in my longest ever training run of 20 miles.

I put fifty more seasonal training miles than I ever did before, totaling 382 miles.

Then, five days before the marathon, my wife gave birth to a little boy! The joy completely invigorated me! The cool factor is that he’ll have several birthdays on marathon Sunday. How cool is that for a harbinger for running aptitude, especially when our three-year old boy is clearly a natural born runner?

The Shabbos before was spent bathing in hand sanitizers. The shalom zachor was awesome, but all I needed was one bug to derail me. I don’t think too many people were insulted that I shook their hand then squished me some Purell.

I had a two hour nap on Shabbos afternoon, built my Bodie Golem on a guest room bed the night before and promptly went to bed and didn’t fall asleep.

This wasn’t anxiety, mind you; it was because my brain was electric with thoughts. How can you sleep when there are thoughts to be thunk? I was so awake, that I happily engaged in diaper duty through the night.

While I was not sleeping, I laid out the game plan for the race. I had stacked the deck in my favor with my multi-facet approach towards establishing my PR, so the race itself needed this tack as well:

1) I was going to run in the middle of the road so my legs don’t over or understretch along the curb-slopes.

2) I was not going to overhydrate or overnourish.

3) I was going to spend a maximum of 45 seconds per family stop.

4) I was going to do whatever I could to avoid going to the bathroom.

5) I was going to go short-stride and steady on the uphills and punch it on the downhills.

6) I was going to punch it for the first half and focus on slow deceleration for the second half. I had read a book called “The Perfection Point,” which discussed the theoretical limits on various sports records. It discussed how, in the 100 meter dash, the first 60 yards are spent accelerating, and the last 40 were spent decelerating as little as possible. That would be my approach in general this year.

7) I was going to run the tangents – especially in Central Park – very mindfully and very carefully.

8) I was going to laugh at the Queensboro Bridge as I ascended the ramp.

I rose at 3:45, animated the Bodie Golem, put my running shell on top, sent out a few quick Facebook updates and I was out the door, with my right foot first, like my momma always tells me.

My father-in-law drove me to the Meadowlands, where for the umpteenth year in a row, they couldn’t a) put an obvious sign anywhere on the 3 pointing us in the right direction, b) put the buses in a parking lot that was viewable from the highway, and c) have a random employee with the skill to point us in the proper direction.

Notwithstanding that constant catastrophe, we made it to the start, but not without further organizational shenanigans.

When our bus rolled in, full buses were pointed to the right for runner drop-off, empty buses were pointed to the left and back from whence they came. Some fella with airplane light thingies thought we were empty and pointed us out, which the driver obeyed, which the runners realized immediately and began hollering at her to cut our losses and drop us off in middle of the expressway.

She refused at first, but we were all terribly polite, saying it’s not her fault, we saw her getting pointed in the wrong direction, but if you keep driving, it’s just going to make it worse, so would you please, pretty please, open the door and let us out. We’ll walk the half mile.

So she did.

I made it the International Marathon Minyan – attended by a record 130+ runners – and hung out there for a bit, even manning the Jrunners table (asking people to sign up for updates and handing out freebies) because hey, what else was I gonna do?

And man, it was cold. I did not expect this drawback to occur from the weight loss, but it’s excruciating for me now. Winter’s gonna hurt.

The only reprieve I had was from a generator powering one of the speakers dotted throughout the runner’s village. I was so cold, I didn’t mind breathing the carbon monoxide, nor did I mind it when I stood too close and nearly burned my calf off.

Once the minyan participants petered out, I headed to my corral at the proper time, lined up and stood at the foot of the Verrazano, positively crackling with anticipation, excitement and total-body energy. It was PR clobberin’ time. I felt so good and strong standing there, that I flexed every sinew and muscle in my body and just felt alive. I was going to break my PR today, yes indeed. The only question was, by how much?

The cannon fired, Frank Sinatra sang “New York,” I began with my right foot again, and as I crossed the start line, the MC singled me out by saying, “Well, SuperJew has joined us today! Good luck to him!”

In case you’re not aware, I wear an easily-spotted quasi-Superman outfit annually by wearing red shorts, a Superman t-shirt with the symbol in the form of a magen david, blue gloves and arm warmers, and my yarmulke, which I hope will still pin to my head in future years despite my accelerating hair loss.

And I was off on my 13^th NYC, 15^th marathon overall and my 11 consecutive NYCs intact (wow, I’ve done every NYC in this millennium!)

Mile 1: I spent it gathering it all in, breathing lungfuls of air and enjoying the moment. I peeked over at my sister’s house in Sea Gate, viewable from atop the Verrazano. I took in New York City itself with the landmarks I’d be running past in the distance (Williamsburg Savings Bank, Citibank building in Queens, etc.). I could not yet see the rising Freedom Tower. It will be nice to see it next year, hopefully. I also spent some time looking around at the t-shirt slogans, specifically targeting those proclaiming high-number marathon finishes. The most I saw was 24. I intend to eclipse that one day. Because of the packed starting crowd, I completed mile 1 in 11:19, about two minutes faster than I’ve ever cleared it before. Things were looking good.

Mile 2: Downhill, punch time. I completed it in about 8 minutes, and as a result, was already under the time on the 4:20 and 4:10 bracelets I had on my right wrist.

Mile 3: An 8:10 mile. I wasn’t even pushing it, just totally cruising. A question I’d been asking others had been answered. I had wondered if smarter training and more mileage meant that one’s natural stride would be faster or that one would still have to push harder to run faster, albeit with increased ease. It seems one’s natural, carefree stride is faster with good training, because man, I was putting forth the easiest of effort and not overtaxing myself in any way.

Mile 4: I started seeing some great signs from the spectators. One said, um, “Go, ” and “Go complete stranger!” Oh, cool, that’s me. Know what else was me? Another 8:10 mile, no biggie.

While zooming down this mile, I suddenly caught up to the 4:10 pace team and hung with them for exactly 2.1 seconds, when I realized that they were going too slow for me! So I outran them and left them in my cloud of dust.

I also noticed at this point, that the flags and runners getting the most enthusiastic attention are Chile, as the mine rescue had occurred just about a month ago and Edison Pena, miner # 12, was on the course today.

Mile 4.7: Ah, my first family pit stop. My Mom, Aba, sisters Devorah and Yenti, my niece Roizy and representatives from TeamOHEL, for whom I was running and raising funds with this race. I was asked to pose for pictures, was asked questions, was given a bagful of stuff and was generally overwhelmed with information and could barely focus. I don’t know how celebrities do it. I sorted through everything and only took a half bagel and sports beans. I spent less than 45 seconds there, as planned, and I was on my way.

Mile 5: I completed it in 9:01. Considering my family stop, it was actually around 8:20. Awesome. I also looked at my pace bracelets and realized that I was several minutes ahead of the 4:10 pace. Awesomer!

Now I’d been texting my status to Facebook every few miles and received a cease and desist from a friend of mine with the following text sent to my phone:

“Put the phone away and just run! You can set your PR and you know it. Eyes forward.”

He was so right, so right. I stopped the silliness immediately and focused on my race.

Mile 6: I decided to punch it a little harder and blitzed through the mile at 7:28. Whoa. I did not expect that. I re-did the math several times and yup, it was 7:28. Now I’d decided to go blazing through the first half, but whoa, I couldn’t keep this up. So I was thrilled with that but went back to regular pacing.

Mile 7: I was shaving more minutes off the 4:10 pace. It was looking like 4:03 at this point. Wow. All my miles were 8:39 or better. I was averaging per mile faster than any mile I’d ever run before.

Mile 8: Smooth like buttah, following through on the game plan. Taking small sips of water and not overdoing it. With a downhill, I was back to 8:10s.

While running down this stretch, a woman to my right spotted her significant other cheering on the sidelines and leaped into his arms Yogi Berra-onto-Don Larsen style. Very sweet.

Somebody is blasting “YMCA” over his boombox. The Americans - including me because it’s fun! - all do the familiar called-for arm motions, while several foreigners behind and around me say something along the variation of “What is YMCA? What is doing with arms?”

Mile 9: Downhill, punched it, still looking at 4:03. We entered Williamsburg and to my left, I hear a person say to his running partner, “Hey, there’s the SuperJew guy!” He then runs over to me and says, “Hey pal, this is your neighborhood, enjoy!” Well that’s nice, I say thank you and outrun them, because hey, that’s what I’m doing today, outrunning everybody.

Just so you know I’m not kidding, I found myself suddenly astride the 3:50 pace team? 3:50? Whoa, too fast, Bodek! Put those brakes on! Back into my cruise control.

I pass by a running fella dressed as a banana. Hey pal, whatever floats your boat, just as long as I don’t slip on you.

Mile 10: My dad, Mum, and sisters Chanaleh and Chaya Saraleh were waiting for me with a bagel and Gatorade. Exactly what the doctor ordered, yum. My dad asked me how I was feeling. I said, “I’m watching the scenery and cranking out 8-minute miles.”

Mile 10.2: The crowd in Williamsburg – as you might imagine – is not terribly gung-ho about the day’s event. Runners try raise-the-roof gestures to enliven the Chassidim, but truly, they don’t know what they’re up against. At this juncture, a runner desperate for any sort of regard, stops at a mother pushing a carriage with two children at her side and puts out his hand to the little girl for a high five. She looks at her mother, who smiles awkwardly and her daughter actually gives the runner an enthusiastic palm. That’s it, she’s now ruined for life.

Mile 10.4: My cousins are usually here, waiting with entirely inappropriate food (one year it was kokosh cake with seltzer, you must be kidding me!), but not this year. Ah well, moving right along.

Mile 11: Another 8:20. Totally crushing this. Still pacing for 4:03. It’s here that the guy with the “Twizzlers! Kosher!” sign stands, but I don’t see him. No biggie, next year.

Mile 11.5: Runner’s High, that euphoric feeling when running, envelops me like a cocoon and washes over me from head to toe. Thoughts of the finish line enter my head. 4:11? 4:08? 4:15? Sub-4:00? Don’t worry about it, I tell myself, enjoy the high and focus on a mile at a time.

Mile 12: The sun is at my back and the wind is nice and cool and I’m in a total comfort zone and I’m coasting. My pre-race efforts are paying off and my pre-race morning game plan is bearing fruit. I am in the zone.

Mile 13: I hit the foot of the Pulaski Bridge and meep meep! P’tchoo! over the ramp like it wasn’t no thang. Hills are nothing to me now after the Relay Race and hill training and quarter-mile uphill climbs in my neighborhood. I eat hills for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Mile 13.1 Halfway! I hit the mark at 1:55:35. Convention says to double your half time and add ten minutes to determine your possible full marathon time. By this rationale, I should cross at just over 4:00, whoa. Dozens of tourist runners stop here to take pictures of New York City.

Mile 14: The first instance of any degree of pain sets in: a minor pinge in my left hip. I mentally bat it away, but improve my running form, straighten my back, breath it away and focus on the slow deceleration phase of my race. I drop it back to 9:30 miles and I intend to hold this until at least mile 20.

Mile 14.4: The Chabad of Long Island is here with cups of Powerade, but the crowd is so thick in front of the tables that they are, regrettably, not accessible. Oh well, next year.

Mile 15: I pop a salt tablet to prevent hyponaetremia and time it right as I approach the next water stop and the Queensboro Bridge.

Mile 15.2: My old nemesis, and site of my unpleasant previous run-ins with a Neo-nazi and a runner who collapsed of a heart attack. I’ve been bragging about my hill prowess throughout and I’ll continue to do so, because my training climbs translated into absolutely conquering the bridge and gliding right over it and into the long downhill into the screaming, sensational crowd at the foot of the bridge and up 1^st avenue.

Mile 16: Foot of the Queensboro, only 10.2 miles to go and feeling awesome. I turn into the tangents carefully and run into the screaming crowd, but no high fives this year. I’m running in the middle and waving when I hear my name or alias (SuperJew, SuperYid, Jewish Superman, Super Hebrew, etc.) called, but it’s downhill here for two miles and I must retain my focus.

I notice a great T-shirt: “Run hard or stay home.” Well, I haven’t stayed home, so I’ll opt run for running hard.

Mile 17: The crowd is deafening and my hand keeps going up reflexively to acknowledge all the people hollering for me, but I am focused. Eyes forward, eyes on the prize, still cranking steady 9:30s. I am in complete obeisance with my game plan.

Mile 17.5: I pass up the water-soaked sponges this year. Usually they’re an incredible relief, but it’s too cold and it will chill my fingers. They’ll bug me for at least a mile, a nuisance I don’t need. Carrying on then.

Mile 17.7: My brother-in-law pit stop: I don’t see him. Shucks. I go from corner to corner but can’t find him. This is probably my fault, as I’m going way faster than I thought I would and am well ahead of the exact meeting times I expected. I did have give-or-take scenarios, so I’m giving (or is it taking?) an awful lot. He was to be waiting with a slice of pizza. I so wanted that, but oh well, next year.

Mile 17.9: TeamOHEL again hootin’ and hollerin’ for me and my teammates. I get more sports beans and some much needed Gatorade. Yum.

Mile 18: Steady as she goes up 1^st avenue and past my favorite-named-band along the marathon route: Squirrels From Hell. Has a great ring to it, doesn’t it?

I swallow the first of the two newly kosher Hammer gels I have in my shorts. Thank you, CRC!

Mile 19: My hips have been fine, but I get my first tweak of pain in both legs at the same spot just above my Achilles and just below my calf. I immediately begin visual imagery, which is a technique I’ve used for years before I even knew it had a name. I imagine the blood vessels in the area growing little hands and knitting anything torn back together. This always helps, along with re-organizing my stride. A straight body is a painless body.

Mile 19.5: Over the new Willis Avenue Bridge and into the Bronx. The bridge was replaced earlier this summer and it’s boring as all get out, with a drab pre-fab support structure and bleh oddly sloped surface. The original bridge had so much more character and the carpet covering the iron grating was terribly amusing.

Mile 20: Time to take stock of how I’m doing. I go through each step of my 8-point plan and realize that I have adhered perfectly to each of them. Awesome awesome awesome. Like the great John “Hannibal” Smith said: “I love it when a plan comes together.”

Mile 20.8: Over the Madison Avenue Bridge into the Bronx. A DJ there yells through the music that the Chilean miner is reported to be experiencing some knee trouble and asks the crowd if they mind if he cuts the music when he comes through so he can hear the pure enthusiasm of the crowd. He gets a hell yeah.

Mile 21: I get that heavy feeling I experience in the final miles of the marathon. Considering that I’ve followed through on my plan - and specifically not overhydrated - I now am no longer sure what exactly is the cause of this, but I am committed to determining the cause. This is my homework to be completed well in advance of next year’s marathon.

Mile 22: It seems I’ve trashed my quads successfully on the downhills and I’m paying for it. The inside thigh muscles just above my knees are starting to feel like they’re fraying, but it’s too late in this race for this to keep me from my PR.

Mile 22.5: My usual immediate-family pit-stop, but my new little boy is only five days old and it would be impossible for my wife to bring out all our kids (We also have a 5.5 year old girl and a 3.5 year old boy) today. I miss them, but I hope to see them back next year. I especially miss my wife, who has been here for me ever since she knows me. I especially also miss my daughter, who is a delight to see as I roll in. I especially miss my big boy. Uch, I especially miss them all.

However, TeamOHEL is here again. I grab an orange and scarf it down. Another friend was supposed to meet me here as well, but I’d later learn that I must have missed him by approximately one or two minutes. All these misses are my fault. I am simply going way, way faster than I could have dreamed.

Mile 23: No more family stops and food grabs from spectators. That’s now done with. There’s nothing left but the impending park, on which I am pre-focused to take the tangents. I will not lose sight of this for a moment. The crowd will be thick and hollering my name and I’ll let my arm fly up in acknowledgement, but the eyes will be forward and focused.

Mile 23.7: Into the park and the beginning of the home stretch! Only 2.5 miles to go and a quick look at the watch tells me it’s going to be somewhere around 4:11. My thighs and hips are bothering me and I’m feeling that heaviness, but it’s going to be a PR by at least 10 minutes.

Mile 24: I’ve slowed to 10:30s. If I had my druthers, I’d never allow myself to do worse than 10s, but I’m battling the heaviness and it’s proving quite challenging.

Mile 24.3: Someone yells, “Go SuperJ – can I say that?” Heh heh.

Mile 24.7: I pass a woman whose T-shirt says, “Nasty Wife.” Now what would a person do in life to earn such a designation?

Mile 25: 1.2 left! Oh boy oh boy. Focus focus focus. Run run run. Ooh, my thighs hurt. Ooh, ow.

Mile 25.3. I exit the park and go screaming like a bullet train up Central Park South. My thighs are screaming back at me as well. So they hurt, so what? I’ve got a PR to set.

Mile 25.7: Oh man, a half mile to go. Just a half mile. PR, here I come, her e I come!

Mile 26: Here I come down the final stretch. The adrenalin kicks in, the thigh and hip pain disappear. The crowds yelps and roars. 400 meters to go. 200 meters to go. The finish line looms. Here I come, here we go, arms up in triumph and –

4:10:23! 14 minutes and 26 seconds faster than my previous PR! I had done it. I had done it. I had put together a year-long and race-long game plan and did what I wanted to do.

I roared at the cameras and did a little dance and came to a halt and suddenly, I couldn’t move my legs. Hey whoa, what’s going on here? They suddenly didn’t work! They felt like they were encased in cement! Uh oh! This was going to be a problem as far as getting to my pickup car.

I shuffled over to an iron barrier and leaned over. A medic came over to me and asked me if I was okay. I said yeah, I’ll be okay, I think, in a few minutes, but for now, I can’t move my legs. She said I should walk it off. I said they’re not working! She helped me move forward and suddenly the pain was gone. I supposed it was a temporary muscle-seize following the pounding, but it let up and I was able to ambulate as usual.

I got my medal, my blanket, my grub , walked a mile to the park exit, met up with my Brother-in-Law and nephew, went to Kosher Delight for my traditional meal of two burger delights, one fries, one onion rings and kiwi strawberry Snapple (oops, forgot my usual pastry). This kicks off my two-week junk food binge, which will be followed immediately by a redux and improvement of everything I improved upon during the last year. I may be going more barefoot/minimal, I will be losing more weight. I will be running higher, more and faster. And I’ll try to solve this heaviness problem. Also, I have to figure out how skinny people can stay warm. Man, I almost feel like gaining my lost 17 pounds back just so that I don't suffer like this.

Once at home, it took a few minutes to get up the twenty-one steps to my front door, but it was worth the effort as my kiddies welcomed me by wearing marathon t-shirts and jumping up and down waving the signs they’d made for me. Awesome.

And so my run is dedicated to my new little boy, Ranan Elisha, born on a good day in a right and propitious time. I hope to see him and his mother and his siblings at mile 22.5 next year. Long may he live, long may he run, long may he prosper under the sun.

Mordechi (Martin) Bodek,

SuperJ – can I say that?

My Bris Speech for My Son Ranan Elisha, n"y

2010-11-09T13:20:00.001-05:00

Good morning everyone, before I begin I’d like to publicly and profusely thank everyone in attendance, anyone who has made an extended effort to be here, everyone who has lent us a hand over the past week, Rabbi Krohn for his fine work, and especially, I’d like to thank my mother-in-law, for all the help she’s provided us in its many forms over the past several weeks. She is so valued to us that my wife and I refer to her in e-mails as capital M, capital O, capital M.

I also am grateful to my son and my wife, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

It says in the closing psukim of Megilas Ruth: Vayiled ben l’Naomi! She’s done it again! She’s brought life into the world. Of course she had some assists in various forms: I got psicha about 17 times in the last month and the Rabbi actually vinched us that the week in which Ranan was eventually born should be the last week that anyone says bsha’ah tovah to us. Uh! It worked! And all the bsha’ah tovah brochas we received also came true!

Our boy was born at the most convenient time imaginable! He wasn’t born on Monday where I’d have to worry about wrangling a ba’al koreh and trying to figure out more kibbudim. He wasn’t born on Shabbos, he wasn’t born too close to Shabbos, he didn’t interfere with any of our scheduled commitments and board meetings. He did not keep me from voting. He did not force me to reschedule my pre-marathon physical, and of course, he wasn’t born on marathon Sunday or the week before marathon Sunday. Thank you!!!

As we all know, the mitzvah of pru irvu is the man’s mitzvah, but the woman does all the work.

This concept got me thinking about other mitzvahs where a person goes through a massive amount of effort and someone else gets all the credit.

The first thing that comes to mind is milah. It is my responsibility to perform the bris on my son, but since I’m not qualified, I had to hand it over to a capable agent. The mohel does all the surgical work and I get the points.

Shchita is another example. The food is prepared with precision (and the more chasidish, the better), but the consumer get the credit when he makes a brocha, because of the fact that it’s kosher!

Another example is kiddushin. The actual act of kinyan is quite basic from a chosson’s point of view, but the halachic details and edim and contracts and procedures are all done by the mesader kiddushin, who doesn’t get any mitzvah for his work. It’s all so the chosson can perform his obligation properly.

One more example is ner Shabbos. It’s the woman’s mitzvah to light the lecht, but it falls to the husband to prepare them for her. It’s not exactly a halacha, but it’s brought down in several sources that this is the husband’s obligation to ensure that his wife can easily light the neros for Shabbos. She has a million other stresses and shouldn’t have to worry about this one.

Looking at this list and other examples that I thought of, it was apparent to me that the most difficult “shlichos” to endure is probably childbirth, and the easiest must be the Shabbos candle preparation. Another way that these two contrasted was that there is a physical limit to the length of time that a woman is able to bear children, but there is none to candlelighting.

There’s a lesson here, at least for me. Now here’s the part where the men stick their fingers in their ears and say nananananana, and the women go awwwwww.

The lesson is that a man has to, week after week, for the rest of his life, for his wife, do the most basic task in the world on her behalf to repay the favor to his wife who endured the most difficult thing in the world on his behalf.

Considering this thought, in regards to my wife, it is well known what she brings to the table on behalf of our shul, of her community, of our children’s schools. Her involvement and random acts of kindness are legend.

Now you may think that she has spread herself too thin, but let. Me. Be. Clear. I have been fortunate enough to be the chief beneficiary of her benevolence, including the most incredible gift of three children.

I therefore declare to my wife that I will endeavor for the rest of my existence on a persistent basis to be worthy, and deserve, her everlasting love and eternal kindness.

So our son’s name is Ranan Elisha. It’s not Ra’anan, it’s Ranan. Ra’anan means “fresh.” Ranan means to sing joyfully. But where does this name come from? Who’s Ranan? Who’s Elisha? There’s nobody we know of by that name in our families. So why did we give him this name?

We’ll have you know that there are ten reasons our son is named what he’s named, and these are they:

Reason # 1. Because it’s his name. We believe that a certain form of ruach hakodesh is invested in prospective parents, and the name that is chosen represents the nature of that person. Naomi and I actually picked this name before Naava was born, and it would have been her name had she been a boy. In Freddy’s case, he was named for his great-grandfather, who had recently passed. So the name has been in a holster all this time, and finally given to our son.

Reason # 2. We love what the name means. Name definitions are important to me and my wife. Given a choice, we prefer to give names that express emotionally how we feel about our little blessing, and in Ranan Elisha’s case, we indeed sing joyfully, for G-d is indeed gracious.

Reason # 3. Ranan is the key word in my favorite Shabbos zmira: libi ivsoori yeranani l’kel choi! My heart and my flesh sing joyfully to the living G-d!, exactly how we’re feeling right now.

Reason # 4. His name is a nod to my three fathers. I’m sure no one but me has noticed that the second name of each of my fathers is an expression of joy. My father’s second name is Yom tov, my Aba’s second name is Simcha, and my shver’s second name is Yitzchok. Therefore, our son’s first name is Ranan, which completes this circle of joyfulness.

Reason # 5. It is good for a man to be invested with some female sensitivity. His name is therefore an acronym for the women that have immediately preceded him in life. Raish for his grandmother Rochelle, Nun for his mother Naomi and Nun for his sister Naava.

So that’s why he’s named Ranan. What about Elisha?

Reason # 6. He is named, in a way, for my parents. My father’s first name is Chananya, which means G-d is gracious. My mother’s first name is Chantze which means the same thing and our son’s name is Elisha, which means the same thing.

Reason # 7. Elisha is the name of the ultimate disciple. It is good to be a leader, but it is also good to be a great follower. My wife and I are proud of some of our accomplishments. Why wouldn’t I want him to be a runner like me or super-geshikt like his mother? That’d be awesome!

Reason # 8. Elisha is noted in Navi as a runner. He ran to do Elijah’s bidding and the bidding of his people. He ran to Elijah when he first met him and ran after him when he ascended to heaven. Additionally, Elijah placed his coat over him as a way of “passing the baton,” and when he went up to heaven he did so in a “chariot of fire.” Get it? Work with me, people.

Reason #9. This one was a series of silly puns that were vetoed by my Editor-in-Chief. So if you’re a sports fan, a running enthusiast or if you like comic books, I’d be glad to relay them to you upon request.

Reason # 10. Some of you may have noticed that our son’s initials are R.E.B., which possibly indicates that he might be a rebbe or a rebel, because we do have bechira in life, which brings me to my brocha for my son.

I should first mention that one of the things I enjoy about my extended British family is that the Brits take care to personalize their blessings. Here in the states, you get stock brochas. Before a child is born, it’s b’sha’ah tovah, once he’s born, the bris should be bizmanoh, at the bris, it’s l’torah l’chupa l’maasim tovim, once he gets to the chupa, it’s build a bayis ne’eman b’yisroel. Baw-ring! Very cherished, very appreciated, very valued, but boring.

So my brocha for my son is: you should make good decisions in your life. If you have a choice to be a rebbe or a rebel, be a rebbe. If you have a choice between tov v’ra, choose tov. And if you have a choice between chaim v’moves - and we are inevitably confronted with these kinds of decisions at some point in our lives – remember my son, that I adjured you on the day of your bris in front of all these witnesses, always always always, iboochartoo b’chayim, iboochartoo b’chayim!

If you make the good and proper decisions in life, I vinch you oon that you should be zoche to the first pasuk of the aliyah I received during the week of your shalom zachor:

וַיִּגְדַּל הָאִישׁ וַיֵּלֶךְ הָלֹוךְ וְגָדֵל עַד כִּֽי־גָדַל מְאֹֽד׃

The man grew great, and grew more and more until he became very great.

May you grow great, grow more and more until you become very great, and of course, you should be zoche l’gadlo l’torah l’chupa ul’masim tovim.

So I have finished a masechte in honor of my son. My family may have noticed that when I finished the masechte I didn’t send out my usual e-mail. This was because I usually dedicate it to somebody, but our son wasn’t born yet. I had learned it in honor of something sheloi ba l’olam.

But now that he has a name, I can finally declare that I learned it in his honor.

I should first say that it is an honor again to finish a masechte in my grandfather’s presence. He will be 92 next month, I’YH, and he now has over 70 great-grandchildren, and he just witnessed the marriage of two of his great-grandchildren. My brocha to him is that he should be zoche soon to have his great-grandchildren exceed the number of his years.

Let us now conclude masechtes Avodah Zorah, in honor of bni Ranan Elisha and l’chavod my zaidy, Reb Bentzion ben Reb Aharon…

How I Lost 16.5 Pounds

2010-10-20T10:59:00.002-04:00

On the morning of February 7, 2010 I awoke and weighed myself on the bathroom scale - as I do every morning - and was horrified by the readout: I was a 196.5 pound gelatinous blob of wriggling pudgy-fudge. Needless to say, I was repulsed. And let me tell you, to be disgusted by one's own self is not a very pleasant feeling.

A few hours later, I was lined up for a race in Central Park when I ran into an old buddy of mine, who as part of his greeting, patted my tummy and said, "What's this?"

I was mortified and embarrassed, and as I dragged my spare tire through the first mile I decided then and there to get a hold of this before I spiral out of control and end up leaden enough to qualify for the WBO heavyweight division.

On the morning of October 20, 2010 I awoke and weighed myself on the bathroom scale and tipped it at 180, reaching my goal weight, four pounds less then wedding weight, and the lowest of my adult life.

I did it by following a six-step program:

1) I undertook various six-week fitness challenges. First I undertook a program to be able to muster 100 consecutive pushups (http://hundredpushups.com/) and aced it. Then I tried a program to crank out 20 straight pullups (http://twentypullups.com/) and crushed it. Currently I'm partaking in a program that should allow me to conquer 200 straight situps (http://www.twohundredsitups.com/). All this meant I'd be sweating at least three times a week, burning massive amounts of calories.

2) My family has pizza about 100 times a year(!). Pizza is typically 300 calories per slice. I used to eat two slices, plus all the leftover crust from my family. I realized that in reality, I was eating three total slices! So I chopped out a slice and it's more than enough to satisfy me. Doing the math, that's 30,000 annual calories I haven't consumed!!!

3) I've stopped stuffing my face to my heart's content after a run and after hockey. This is major. I used to jam grub down me gulliver, thinking I could afford to because I'd sweated so hard and I deserved it. Not so fast. I began calculating how many calories my activities burned and consumed way, way less than that amount. Instant results.

4) I get home daily about 1-1.5 hours before my wife. I used to snack in the interim so that they could tide me over until she makes her yummy dinners. No more. Now I play with the kids, put them to sleep solo most of the time and eat hardily once my wife is home. Those snacks were useless calories.

5) Are you like me? Do you panic when you're offered birthday cake and think to yourself, "Ohmigosh, I have to have this! I mean, when's my next chance? But the flower-shaped icing has 437 synthetic ingredients! But it looks so good! I need to have it!" No more. Especially when my kids get invited to birthdays all the time, and birthday cake is in ample supply. I can have it when I want it, but I don't. I ask for one bite from my kids' offerings and it's enough to satisfy me.

6) Because of my weight loss, I've been able to put in longer and more vigorous runs, which is an excellent calorie-burning loop. I've trained more miles this year than ever before. I've broken various PRs. I'm getting fast and faster and my workouts have become more intense, and I am no longer a gelatinous blob of wriggling pudgy-fudge. Nay, I might currently be in the best shape of my life.

Finished Another Book!

2010-10-12T09:08:00.000-04:00

The Disappearing Spoon, by Sam Kean - Did you enjoy the periodic table of the elements as much as I did when you were a child? Of course you didn't! Therefore, despite the absolute wonderfulness of this book, and its fascinating tidbits and stories and mind-blowing facts, I'm recommending it only for people who are actually interested in this corner of the physics world. If you are, this book will be very, very enjoyable and rewarding. The writer's passion for the material is absolutely transparent and he imbues the pages with total appreciative awe.

The First Ever Jrunners Half-Marathon Minyan/S.I. Half Marathon/Post-race Continental Breakfast

2010-10-11T13:22:00.000-04:00

It was the largest gathering of Jrunners since the Jrunners Apprecation Event, which took place one week after the inaugural Jrunners Relay Race. Twenty-one strong (including our first honorary Jrunnerette!) turned out for the Staten Island Half Marathon. Some showed as a final long race before the NYC Marathon, some to break a PR, some because running is a constant in their lives, and some for the camaraderie of it all.

It began with what is believed to the be the first ever recorded Half-marathon Minyan anywhere on earth. With the rising sun, mizrach was rather easy to find! Fourteen Jrunners joined in and the davening became quite a curiosity for onlookers (overheard: a person waiting for a friend to meet them said into her phone, "I'm right next to the service at the bottom of the stairs"). We had enough pictures snapped to drown Facebook accounts across America. Fortunately, only us Jrunners could provide proper tagging.

The Jrunners caravan then hung around in the parking lot, giving each other how-do-you-dos, advising each other on hill management, snapping pictures for posterity, poking fun at some of our clothing choices and generally enjoying each other's company.

Then it was showtime, with brisk weather surrounding us, and great energy coursing throughout the Jrunners contingent, we were off, we survived and we returned to where we started in the following order:

Katz Matt M32 1:34:01 07:11
Holmbraker Steve M51 1:37:24 07:27
Pancer Joseph M40 1:37:49 07:28
Ovits Mordechai M33 1:39:35 07:37
Friedman Israel M41 1:39:42 07:37
Mittel Yitzchok M33 1:42:22 07:49
Maltz Martin M36 1:43:01 07:52
Kohane Ariel M39 1:43:02 07:52
Schachner Dovid M46 1:43:28 07:54
Piekarski Abe M38 1:44:14 07:58
Bodek Martin M35 1:47:20 08:12
Weisz Shmuel M29 1:47:27 08:13
Sommer Pesach M39 1:50:44 08:28
Pupko Yisroel M27 1:55:21 08:49
Pupko Adina F35 1:55:30 08:49
Silk Mitchell M48 1:58:08 09:02
Singer Simon M32 2:01:38 09:18
Rosenblum Saul M35 2:01:43 09:18
Shmueli Menachem M31 2:10:50 10:00
Rand Charles M33 2:15:00 10:19
Dornhelm Alex M32 2:18:07 10:33

As you can see, Mutty, Steve, Yossi and Yisroel won their respective age groups. Chesky, Maltz and Alex set their PRs.

Following the race, we got together for some official and unofficial photos and headed to Chesky's car for a continental breakfast sponsored by fellow Jrunner Mordechai Ovits. We chowed down, wished each other well, gave one another metaphorical pats on the back for a job well done and hoped that we could find an occasion to do this again. A great time was had by all.

And now, for the awards ceremony:

The Paula Radcliffe Fait Accompli Award: Mutty Katz. We though he would win, guessed he would win, discussed that he'd win, expected him to win, and he won. I mean, the dude was dressed for the part, with Cathlolic schoolgirl socks and shorts so short they .

The Satchell Paige Let Me Show You Punks How this is Done Award: Steve Holmbraker. Now about 98 years into his running career, and running what was probably his 875th half-marathon, he completely schooled anyone not named Matt Katz. Actually, taking age grading into consideration, Steve finished in 1:25:25. So all things considered, he absolutely smoked the rest of us.

The Michael Jordan We Should All Have Colds Like this Award: Mordechai Ovits. Mordechai complained all week about an annoying cold about which he worried would wreck his performance. Ahahahaha! Wreck, right. He broke his own Half-marathon PR by 15 minutes! Halevai we should all get sick like this.

The Milorad Cavic Missed it by THIS Much Award: Mordechi Bodek. Mordechi missed his 9-year-old half-marathon PR by 34 seconds, but when interviewed about his performance (by himself, naturally), he stated that he was thrilled with his performance, as he gave it everything he had and getting that close was extremely rewarding.

The Willis Reed Limp Shmimp Award: Pesach Sommer: Pesach is only a month removed from knee surgery, but did that stop him from training hard and running sub 8:30s for a half-marathon? Nope.

The Kathrine Switzer First Lady Award: Adina Pupko. 1) self-explanatory. 2) Welcome!

The Staples Superstore Easy Button Award: Chesky Rand. Chesky has an excruciating list of booboos and hills make him nauseous, but he focused so hard, he didn't notice THE HILL and powered right over it. He flagged a bit in the final miles, but sucked it all up and finished strong, just in time to open the car wherein our continental breakfast was.

And there you have it, folks! Congratulations to all of us for a great showing and a great show!

My Near Half-Marathon PR

2010-10-10T17:14:00.000-04:00

The S.I. Half Marathon, where I was joined by 19 other fellow Jrunners, davened shachris together before the race, had a continental breakfast after, and in between, I narrowly missed breaking my half-marathon PR by 34 seconds, but I could not push it any further. I gave it all the energy I had. It was my 15th half.

And I know where those 34 seconds went. I needed to do exactly 8 minute miles from wire to wire to break my PR. For the first seven miles, my times were all between 7:36 and 8:01, but then came THE HILL, and the mile portion of that stretch took me 8:45, then I needed to spend some time at the next water stop to recover. By the time I got my senses back, I had lost too much time for continued 8s to get me my PR. That hill wrecked me. But I have no complaints, none. My PR is 9 years old and to come within a whisper of my PR is extremely satisfactory.

Now the general convention holds that to determine your marathon time, take your last 1/2 marathon distance, multiply by two, add ten minutes, and badabing! By that rationale, I should obliterate my PR (4:24) and finally eclipse the goal I set for myself when I ran my first marathon sometime in the last millenium: 4:20. But I should do soooooo much better than that! I will.

Finished Another Book!

2010-10-08T09:57:00.000-04:00

Why Faith Matters, by David J. Wolpe - I read this book with what I consider its inverse companion: Christopher Hitchens' "God is not Great." I must say, it wasn't a fair fight. Hitchens, as he did in a real-life debate, absolutely smashes Wolpe's mousy little arguments to fine dust.

The writing itself is horribly, terribly amateur. If this was intentional, it was deplorable. MAKE me spring for a dictionary as a result of you selecting a perfect wording or phrasing to sell a point.

Speaking of points, no new ground is covered her, and no insights save for one or two mildly interesting arguments.

Wolpe is simply not the choice to successfully defend the religion I practice. A better champion needs to be made available.

The bottom line is, and no better classic argument is available, that for those who wish to believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who don't, none will suffice.

Finished Another Book!

2010-10-08T09:56:00.000-04:00

God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, by Christopher Hitchens - Of all the books availalbe to read on this planet, this one probably would raise the eyebrows highest for the people who know me - if not for the content, then at least for the title.

However, I had to read this book for two reasons:

1) I have to read everything. The deal I made with myself is that if there is a controversial book whose content might effect my philosophical underpinnings adversely, I must also read the best available converse book for balance. I therefore read David Wolpe's "Why Faith Matters" at the same pace and actually finished both books on the same day.

2) I love Hitchens' writing in general. There is simply no one on earth with a better command of the English language than he. And if you can find me one who does (and I challenge you to do so), then at the very least, there is simply no one on earth who combines amazing literary intelligence with masterful insolent wit.

I absorbed all the information and enjoyed running to a dictionary every few seconds (his word choice is so expert, he should give lessons to those who try big words and contextually fail with them). I disagreed vehemently with two points and agreed vehemently with another.

Disagreement # 1: I was quite surprised at his lack of proper research into the finer details of Orthodox Judaism. If you're going to rail against it, know it. He himself says in the closing sentence that to fight one's enemy, you must first understand it. Ergo, he cannot fight Judaism without a better understanding of it.

Disagreement # 2: He addressed the classic argument that atheists are too responsible for scads of historical mass murder. His response is that the regimes responsible were religious in their construction. This argument is invalid, especially in the face of a much simpler argument he can easily counter with: would you assume that if these atheist murderers introduced G-d into the equation of their lives, they would have ceased their activity or increased it?

Agreement: He says with clarity that one needs not to be a moral person to achieve a great moral accomplishment. Often religions cry against this, citing purity of heart as responsible for purity of achievement. Both Hitchens and I believe this to be nonsense. Great, great, moral advances and lofty accomplishments have been achieved by people who hey, like to sleep with scores of women. So what?

Now if you'd like to rebuke me for reading this book, shove it up your poopchute. If you'd like to discuss it with me as a gentleman, please feel free to e-mail me. Let's talk.

I Sold a Kindle Copy of My Book!

2010-10-07T14:22:00.000-04:00

How cool is that!?:

http://www.amazon.com/Bush-Book-New-Testament-ebook/dp/B0034G679U/ref=kinw_dp_ke?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

The Night I Placed My Book Into Jon Stewart's Hands

2010-09-28T10:13:00.005-04:00

Throughout the process of writing my book (http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/bush-ii-book-i/6254252) I had constantly thought that the one person in this world who would most enjoy it would be Jon Stewart. I daydreamed about him holding a copy of it.

On September 27, 2010, I made that daydream a reality.

The Daily Show recently launched their new book (http://www.amazon.com/Daily-Show-Stewart-Presents-Earth/dp/044657922X) and would be having a book reading and signing by the 18 writers in Barnes & Noble Union Square. It was called for 8:00 PM.

After I got off work at 4:00 PM, I quickly zoomed to the library to drop off some books (http://tinyurl.com/2cchw8e, http://tinyurl.com/23ruo29) and pick up some new ones (http://tinyurl.com/29o7kt6, http://tinyurl.com/29yh3u3), then quickly zoomed to KD to pick up some dinner, then quickly zoomed to the Bryant Park sukkah to eat that dinner, then quickly (this sounds like the Kohen Gadol Yom Kippur avodah, doesn't it?) zoomed to Union Square, picked up Jon's book, plopped myself down in a seat at 5:45 PM and read a great book (http://tinyurl.com/2ecytkj) for two hours until Jon arrived. Good thing I did that because 15 minutes after I sat down, all the seats were gone.

The book reading was vastly entertaining, and the Q&A session even more so. One of the questions from an audience member was how one could get to be a writer on the show. Jon replied that interested writers received "submission packets" wherein an applicant would create funny headlines and stories and the staff would decide if the material passed muster (The Onion has the same process; The Knish has higher standards).

Ooh, I could use that when I approached Jon for the book signing. When the Q&A was over, I signed my book for Jon and queued up. I noticed that the bodyguard in front of Jon was the same hardcase at The Daily Show studio (my wife I attended a taping previously), and the Barnes & Noble staff cautioned that the writers would be signing only their book and nothing else. I decided to keep my book out in the open, arousing less suspicion than surreptitious tucking, perhaps.

It worked. The bodyguard eyeballed me as I approached, but it was do or die. As my copy of Jon's book made its way to him, I placed my book into his hands, and offered my well-rehearsed nerve-jangled flop-sweat sales-pitch:

Me: “Hello Jon.”
Jon: “Hey, howaya?”
Me: “I’m good, thank you. This is a gift from me and is also my submission packet.”
Jon: (leafs through book) "Oh!”
Me: “I think that of all credible American journalists, you would enjoy this most.”
Jon: (still leafing) “Oooooh, heyyy, interesting!”
Me: “Please feel free to read at your leisure.”
Jon: (leafing still) “I'll definitely have a look at it.”
Me: “Just trying to make my way in this world, thank you.”
Jon: “No problem.”

Dream fulfilled! I floated away from the signing table on a cloud of happiness, looking behind me and noticing that the writer next to him, Josh Lieb, an author of his own book (http://tinyurl.com/27gfdtf) was espying mine.

Now if Jon Stewart would be the person who would enjoy my book the most, who possibly could enjoy it even more?

Stephen Colbert, that's who.

I'll keep you updated.

My NYC Marathon 18 Mile Tune Up PR

2010-09-19T15:59:00.000-04:00

This morning I absolutely clobberdemolishnihilatedestroyed my previous 18 Mile Tuneup record (set in 2002! I'm not an old man yet! Not yet!) by 10:40!!! 10:40!!!

I was faster per mile by 36 full seconds!!!

My time was 2:40:05!!!

How fast was I?

So fast, that I kept the first seven miles all under 8:08! So fast, that I kept the first 12 miles all under 8:43!

So fast, that the lead runner didn't pass me until mile 12 (he usually passes me at mile 9).

So fast, that my laces couldn't tolerate the headwind and busted open! (well, no, not really, I didn't tie them properly and lost 30 seconds!)

So fast, that I finished 7 miles in 1 hour for the first time EVER in a race!

So fast, that I finished 14 miles 2 hours for the first time EVER in a race!

So fast, that it felt like there were a hundred water stops because I kept getting to them so quickly!

So fast, that I reached the half marathon point in 1:51:30, 6 minutes faster than the Bronx 1/2, but several minutes slower than the time I'll put in at the S.I. 1/2, which I'm now REALLY excited about! I'm closing in on being in the best shape of my life. I've got 10 more years of PRs left in me. I am PUMPED!

My Maseches Shvuous Siyum Speech (for Mendy)

2010-08-22T09:03:00.001-04:00

Good Shabbos! The reason I'm doing the siyum today is for a very important and very personal reason. That reason is that Iddo has become sick and tired of always doing this all by himself and wanted to hand this off to somebody else for a change.

But in all seriousness, there is an important and personal reason I'm doing this, and if Iddo had not asked me to pinch-hit for him, I would have volunteered.

I have learned this masechte and the masechte before for a single individual.

As you probably all know by now from all my annoying e-mails, I participated in a relay race a few weeks ago from Prospect Park in Brooklyn to South Fallsburg which was staged so that the proceeds could benefit a person and a friend of the race organizers. His name is Mendy.

Just this last Tuesday, we all got together again for an Appreciation Event to reminisce about the race and learn about future programs from this new Jrunners organization.

Each team of runners had a representative step up to the podium to speak about their experiences, and to a man, the one thought they all had in common was that they could spend all night talking about the amazing things that transpired, but we all had day jobs we had to get back to.

I have the same problem here. There are amazing stories to tell, but we have to get to Ma'ariv, so I will make mention of another common thread we experienced on this run.

This was the monumental physical effort the runners put themselves through, and they put themselves through this strain all so they could give of themselves to this one person.

Rabbi Seth Nadel was here a few weeks ago, and he spoke about being "in the parsha" of fundraising for his new Yeshiva. He said that he was advised by fundraising experts that when you send an envelope out, to be aware that placing the logo of an organization on the cover doesn't tug at the heartstrings as much as placing the face of a single child.

So we didn't run for an organization. We ran for a man, and we put so much physical effort into our runs that four of us actually vomited along the course from the exertion. There were sixty of us, which means that one of 15 of us literally left our guts out there on the West Side Highway, in Fort Lee, in Harriman State Park. All of us gave our sweat, some of us gave our blood when we took some spills and some of us literally ran our guts out.

So in addition to this physical effort that I put in, I also put in some spiritual effort, and I've learned the last two masechtes in honor of Mendy.

I haven't spoken to the Rabbi about this yet, but I have discussed this with others: I feel a little weird saying "refuah sheleimah" to a person or about a person when it comes to a terminal disease. I discussed this with my mother, who mentioned that she too had recently posed this question to her Rabbi. He told her that to say refuah sheleimah is our job, to determine what IS the refuah is not up to us. The person may get a refuas hanefesh, a refuas haguf, or a refuah in the form of moving on to the next plane of existence. We have to do our part, but we don't make the decisions around here. We leave that to other forces. Remember, man proposes, but G-d disposes.

Before I conclude the masechte, I'd like to point out to anyone in this room, and anybody beyond this room who is still holding with the daf yomi cycle, that we now have less than two years left! The cycle ends in early August of 2012. We're in the home stretch. It's very exciting. I'm very excited.

And now in honor of Menachem Mendel ben Gella, who should have a refuah sheleimah, lumer endigen masechtes Shviis. Zoogt der heiligeh gemooreh...

The last mishna talks about – oh, it doesn't matter, I'm going to do it in Yiddish, and you all won't be able to follow anyway.

Oh, just kidding, maseches Shvuous talks about...

The Bronx Half Marathon 2010

2010-08-16T11:45:00.001-04:00

The adventure that was this race was not so much the race itself, but GETTING to the race! There is no parking in the Bronx. None. I ended up parking 1.5 miles from the start and began a long hike, all the while needing the bathroom very, very badly, but all the stores were closed because it was 6:00 AM!

While hiking, I suddenly hear my name being called! It's a friend from the neighborhood, heading towards the race. I hop in the car and he gets me to the start, and by now, the need for the facilities is an emergency. I get in the porta-potty line, but it's 25 deep, and I'm not going to make it.

I always have TP with me, and I start looking for cracks in fences around the rail yards, hoping for some luck. Then I spot an apartment building, run over, and beg the doorman to let me use a bathroom. He obliges. Pshew!

Now the race:

My goal for the day was 2:10, or 10:00 per mile. Anything less would be unacceptable. Anything better would be gravy. If I was doing well, my goal would be 2:03:50, or 9:30 per mile. If I was doing really, really well I'd hope for 2:00, and if I was doing really, really REALLY well, I'd gun for 1:57, or 9:00 per mile.

Miles 1-7 I rotated between 8:10s, 8:30s and 8:50s, depending on the duration of the looooooooong uphills and my waterstop breaks.

Miles 8-13 I all kept under 9:47. At mile 9, I looked at the clock and thought to myself, "Hey, I could take a nap on the asphalt right now and still come in WAY under 2:10! I gotta MAKE something of this!" So despite an uphill, I ran mile 10 25 seconds faster than mile 9.

At mile 13 I spotted Mariska Hargitay on the sidelines (Detective Benson on L&O:SVU), which was interesting.Then the music started and the cheering got going and my legs picked up (And I thought "Where you all been till now? It's lonely out there!") and I vroomed over the finish line at 1:58:17, 9:02 per mile. My fastest 1/2 marathon in 3 years. I did the first half in 57 minutes, the second half in 61 minutes. No blisters or physical fatigue. I am becoming the machine I want to be. I'm in good shape, and am going to have a great marathon in November.

P.S. I'm now over 200 miles for the year.

9 Races Down, 1 to Go!

2010-08-15T12:58:00.001-04:00

The Bronx Half Marathon

The adventure that was this race was not so much the race itself, but GETTING to the race! There is no parking in the Bronx. None. I ended up parking 1.5 miles from the start and began a long hike, all the while needing the bathroom very, very badly, but all the stores were closed because it was 6:00 AM!

While hiking, I suddenly hear my name being called! It's a friend from the neighborhood, heading towards the race. I hop in the car and he gets me to the start, and by now, the need for the facilities is an emergency. I get in the porta-potty line, but it's 25 deep, and I'm not going to make it.

I always have TP with me, and I start looking for cracks in fences around the rail yards, hoping for some luck. Then I spot an apartment building, run over, and beg the doorman to let me use a bathroom. He obliges. Pshew!

Now the race:

My goal for the day was 2:10, or 10:00 per mile. Anything less would be unacceptable. Anything better would be gravy. If I was doing well, my goal would be 2:03:50, or 9:30 per mile. If I was doing really, really well I'd hope for 2:00, and if I was doing really, really REALLY well, I'd gun for 1:57, or 9:00 per mile.

Miles 1-7 I rotated between 8:10s, 8:30s and 8:50s, depending on the duration of the looooooooong uphills and my waterstop breaks.

Miles 8-13 I all kept under 9:47. At mile 9, I looked at the clock and thought to myself, "Hey, I could take a nap on the asphalt right now and still come in WAY under 2:10! I gotta MAKE something of this!" So despite an uphill, I ran mile 10 25 seconds faster than mile 9.

At mile 13 I spotted Mariska Hargitay on the sidelines (Detective Benson on L&O:SVU), which was interesting.

Then the music started and the cheering got going and my legs picked up (And I thought "Where you all been till now? It's lonely out there!") and I vroomed over the finish line at 1:58:17, 9:02 per mile. My fastest 1/2 marathon in 3 years. I did the first half in 57 minutes, the second half in 61 minutes. No blisters or physical fatigue. I am becoming the machine I want to be. I'm in good shape, and am going to have a great marathon in November.

P.S. I'm now over 200 miles for the year.

I did the 100!

2010-08-10T08:38:00.003-04:00

For the past 8 weeks I've been partaking in a 6 week program with the goal of grinding out 100 consecutive pushups: http://www.hundredpushups.com/

This morning I did it! I did it! I did the 100! Woohoo! I tore a few abdomen muscles grinding out the last 20, but I did it! I am strung like bool! Hoo-wah!

I get a special badge too. Ain't it neat?:

Report from My (and the) 1st Ever Jrunners Relay Race

2010-07-30T17:54:00.002-04:00

In my running career so far, I have run 14 marathons, 12 half marathons and 131 races in total covering 1028.8 miles.

Absolutely none of them – none! – could come close to the excitement, fun, energy and butterfly-inducing frenzy that was the 1^st annual Jrunners Relay Race that took place on July 28-29, 2010.

My involvement began when every human being I’ve ever met alerted me via every method of communication man ever devised (yes, including smoke signals and carrier pigeons – their extinction notwithstanding) that there was this relay race being run in the summer from Prospect Park to the Catskills.

One of the organizers contacted me as well. His pitch was something like, “So we have this race –“ to which I responded, “I’m in!”

Okay, it was slightly more complicated than that, naturally, but I was in after allaying my security and safety concerns.

The months leading up to the race were spent recruiting, fundraising and doing my usual marathon training. The mile totals for my proposed three legs fell perfectly in line for where I was in training distance - minus the hills of course - but nonetheless in perfect parallel with my training.

Fast forward to the expo which took place two days before the race, which was an exciting experience in itself! It was awesome to meet fellow runners, reacquaint myself with old friends, get motivated and as a bonus, to stand on the spot where my office used to be more than a decade ago when the club we were in was a company I worked for called Econophone.

I met my teammates, and we split ourselves up into Team A and Team B. The plan was for team A (me, Jonathan, Ariel, Martin [no, not me] and Mordechai [no, not me]) to be the sprinters and for Team B (Avi, Roy, Yaacov, Avrumy, Nuchem) to be the haulers. Team A would establish leads, Team B would maintain as they conquered the hills.

That night, I could barely fall asleep. My eyes popped open at 3 AM and stayed that way until I rolled out of bed at 5. I felt queasy and lightheaded and my stomach was grinding and butterflying. Basically, my typical pre-marathon jitters. Needless to say, I was nervous and exCITED!

The above was the same for the next evening. I barely got any sleep. Butterflies are annoying for even just a half hour. They’re downright torture when they last more than two days!

I spent pre-race day at work, entirely distracted, and exhibiting a case of restless leg syndrome such that the DSM IV has never seen. It was so severe that a colleague passing by my cube actually said, “Hey bouncy! Take it easy, will you?”

At quittin’ time, I ran out of there like I heard the classroom bell, shuttled and trained and bused to my mom in Brooklyn, got dressed, had a protein-and-carb rich dinner and zoomed off to Prospect Park for the start. Before heading in to the park, my mom cautioned me – as she always does – to begin with my right foot. Will do, Mommy.

The two hours before the race were spent in a frenzy of activity, loading up RVs with supplies, getting race numbers, receiving instructions, listening to dignitary speeches, meeting more friends I haven’t seen in years, confirming leg assignments, and all the time, without end, trying to shake off the nervous energy and butterflies wrecking my system. The only cure for this? Running.

So at 9:16 PM, we were off. Team A jumped into the car and sped off to the first exchange. Team B jumped into the RV and rumbled off to the first major exchange in Fort Lee to rest up and switch with us when we arrived.

All cars got there ahead of their Leg 1 runners and handed off smoothly. Jonathan came off the bridge, slapped the identifying bracelet onto my wrist and I was off like I was shot out of a cannon (yes, I started with my right foot). I hightailed it down Chambers Street and hit a red light on the West Side Highway, so up and over the bridge I went. When I set foot on the highway and began sprinting North, I suddenly realized that the humidity was seriously affecting me. The air was simply not comfortable to breath.

My stomach was killing me, and I was slowing down and the air felt like tangible friction and at 46^th St, at the Intrepid, I came to a stop. I had a Tums in my pocket, swallowed it, guzzled some water, breathed rhythmically, and picked it up again at 49^th, keeping the jets going until I hit the exchange at 59^th and handed over to Martin. At that point, we were in fifth place.

At the next exchange, Martin rolled in at second place position, displaying a confident stride as he rambled up. The stride is emphatic, and looks like he’s punching a wall. He possibly wastes considerable, valuable energy this way, but it does look cool and confident.

Martin handed to Mordy, who suffered through the humidity and brought us into 1^st place, empathizing with me about the disgusting humidity.

At that point, some news hijinks reached the runners. One Jrunner had gone over the Manhattan Bridge by accident and cabbed back to exchange 1. Another team’s second leg runner wilted in the heat and the first leg runner completed the second leg as well!

While everyone discussed amongst themselves, we hightailed it to the first major exchange, had some food, listened to some music, checked on each other’s conditions, when Ariel came motoring in, having climbed some serious hills to get here and maintain first. His performance was so impressive that I dubbed him Alpine (one of the G.I Joes I had as a kid was a mountain climber named Alpine).

We switched into the RV, Team B hopped into the car, and off we both went.

We didn’t sleep a wink in the RV, as the excitement was contagious and palpable and the Jrunners sign on the side of the RV kept clunking in the wind.

At the second exchange, Team B rolled in last, having suffered some mishaps. One of our guys vomited and another developed back-spasms. Ouch. We were 33 minutes behind second-to-last place. No problem. They were hurtin’, but we were supportin’.

Team A in the car now, team B in the RV. Alpine kept climbing, Jonathan kept it steady, Martin punched emphatically. I ran through the rain and was nearly assaulted by two deer. It took me a few minutes to get my heart rate back down. I also ran past a dead deer, and was nearly tripped up by several bullfrogs (as was Jonathan, who actually had to skip over one!).

While I was out there, Mordechai yelled from the car that Nachum Segal just mentioned my FaceBook posts on his radio show. I thought he was kidding and was just trying to motivate me, but I learned it was the truth. Cool. I also learned that my pre-NYC marathon salt bagel routine was mentioned (correction, I have my salt bagel intra-Marathon, which I get from my mom at mile 4.7). Interestingly, I was mentioned on JM in the AM last year when my name was brought up as part of TeamOhel when Nachum asked who was the most seasoned marathoner on the team. Perhaps one day I’ll get to speak for myself.

Mordechai then braved the rain and the route 17A hills before we were all called back to Monsey in the face of lightning up ahead and for a very necessary breakfast before continuing. Upon completion of his leg, Team A had sliced 15 minutes off the lead time of the next team ahead of us.

For breakfast I had french toast and eggs and tuna and bagels and veggies and fruit and coffee and orange juice and apple juice. Ahhhhhhnumnumnumnumnum!

Team B in the car. Team A in the RV. We were so exhausted, we all actually managed to catch a few winks.

Team B was on some serious hills at this point, grinding through. One of them hurt his knee, but finished his leg with moxie and we designated Alpine to run his final leg for him. Alpine is 5”7’, 128 lbs of true grit.

At exchange point 20 we switched up again, still in last place, but not lacking for pride. Team B tackled monster hills, including leg 16, which had a 500 foot ascent that lasted for a mile. Fear-inducing, but they made it.

Team A took over and skipped over mountains, leaped over hills (get the reference?), but at this point, it was smack in middle of the risen, scorching sun of the day. To keep each other cool, we sped ahead of each runner with the car, jumped out and dumped cold water on them as they passed.

The first two legs worked so quickly up the hills that we gained 13 minutes on the next-to-last team.

As Alpine climbed through mile 22, a lady stepped out of her house as he motored past and asked if she could make a donation. Now that was nice.

I took leg 23. The elevation chart showed a slight uphill and mostly downhill. This was the only elevation chart that was wrong. It was uphill most of the way, but I never stopped. At one point I took a right turn 2/10ths of a mile out of my way, but the Jrunners support crew corrected me, and I ran an extra 4/10ths and many extra hills as a result, but I kept repeating the mantra “Tougher than pain, tougher than pain” and I completed my leg and handed off. I gave it everything, everything. I emptied the tank, all of it.

At exchange 25, my Aba came to fetch me, as I had a wedding to go to in Brooklyn. I hugged my teammates and wished them well and felt like a heel for bailing, but I had to go.

At the wedding, I promptly fell asleep in my soup. Almost literally, I am not kidding. A schnorrer poked me in my shoulder as I was dozing, and he said, "It's not so bad, it'll be ok.”

I stayed in touch with my team throughout. Alpine and Mordechai took over portions of legs for our hurt team B comrades and ran beside them for support. Warriors all. They crossed the finish line with power, pride and passion two hours behind first place.

In the end, Team 3 embodied the words of the great Steve Prefontaine, who said, “A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts.”

We were not the fastest, but we had the most guts.

I was with them in spirit at the end and hope to be with them in the flesh next year.

And may the person we ran for, Menachem Mendel ben Gella, be strong and be well.

-Mordechi (Martin) Bodek, runner 2, Legs 2, 14, 23, Team A of team 3, AKA El HeHarim.

Hadran Aluch Maseches Makos!

2010-07-02T10:11:00.000-04:00

The learning was done in honor of Menachem Mendel ben Gella, the person for whom I'm running the relay race later this month. May he have a refuah sheleimah.

Finished Another Book!

2010-07-01T14:15:00.000-04:00

The Checklist Manifesto, by Atul Gawande - An excellent discussion for a proposed resolution to a major problem. Gawande's style is very Gladwellian. He posits the lowly checklist to the reader as a solution and sells and sells the point with numberous quick digestible examples. Fascinating though, is what he and Gladwell attribute flight heroism to. Gladwell says it's training and decision making. Gawande says its procedure. Calls to mind another Gladwell "argument" with Steven Levitt about the crime drop in the 90s. Gladwell says it's the "broken windows" phenomenon, Levitt says Roe vs. Wade averted the birth of criminals. These debates, and this book, are absolutely fantastic

My London Aufruf Speech

2010-06-29T23:15:00.001-04:00

My aufruf speech was my first real attempt at standup. Yes, I've spoken before and naturally I've tried to be funny, but I think the style of this one was actual standup. It went well, and I got laughs where I hoped I would. Respect to the English crowd, who was paying attention to some of the nuances and "chapped" them. Feedback welcome:

Mazel tov Aron and Ilana and to the Storfer and Bishop families. I think I speak on behalf of the American contingent when I say that it’s a pleasure to keep returning here for simchos, and may we continue to be able to do so for a long time.

Aron, I’m going to address only you and not your fiancee for two reasons: One, she’s not here so you’re all I’ve got. Two, I’ve got advice to dole out, and I’m not going to make the mistake of telling a woman what to do. I’ve got no such compunction telling a guy what to do.

Now before I say another word, I must point out that anything I say today does not in any way, shape or form reflect or borrow or is informed by my marriage. Anything reminiscent of my relationship with my wife is a complete coincidence – I hope.

My mission, as I see it, is to prepare you for marriage by telling you what to expect, what’s going to happen, what you’re in for, what your responsibilities are, what your daily tasks and duties entail. Now I’m not here to tell you the obvious. I’m here to inform you of the things you may not have expected.

For example, it’s a no-brainer that anything to do with the car is your problem. Insurance, repair, maintenance. It’s your bailiwick. Especially with a baby like your pretty Beemer. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch it either anyway.

Also, the garbage. Men take out the garbage, not women.

So these are obvious things. There are no chiddushim here. Women too, have very specific jobs they undertake, but I won’t say what they are, because I’m not prepared to put my foot In my mouth this early in my speech.

Now before I tell you what specific jobs you have, I must point out the major difference between mens and women’s jobs.

The difference is, when a woman asks a man to please take care of something, it doesn’t matter what he’s in the middle of doing, he has to do it NOW. He could be on the couch, watching, oh, Chelsea vs. Tottenham, but if your wife comes calling, you better move or there’s going to be trouble.

Conversely, you don’t dare ask your wife to do anything. Can anyone tell me why? That’s right, because she’s already in middle of doing 50 other things for you, and you’re asking when she can’t possibly take care of it right now.

The other difference that I need to prepare you for is how and where spouses ask each other to take care of something. When a man asks his wife to handle something, he’ll seek her out whereever she is in the house. Men are more face-to-face people. We do it in business, we do it at home.

Women, on the other hand can holler for you from whereever they are. Again, you can be on the couch watching, oh, Liverpool vs. Man U, and you could swear you heard a voice, and you think it’s your wife, and when you investigate and find her, she’ll be standing there and the first thing out of her mouth will be, “That’s the 5th time I called you. You never listen to me.”

Women also can ask for things as they’re walking away from you, forcing you again, to get up off the couch and follow them so you hear what they have to say.

Having said that, men have four basic jobs in a marriage. We are reachers , shleppers, killers and fetchers.

Job # 1: We reach things for our women. Anything that a woman can’t reach on her own requires you to intervene to assist. Women do not mount ladders or stand on stepstools. It is not their job. Their job is to reach things only reachable using only her arms. Anything further beyond reach is your problem.

You have to rush in to help as soon as you see her on her tiptoes. This is why it is a man’s responsbility to update the clocks in the house (do you have daylight savings time here?). Since many require standing up on a chair to fix, and since they don’t stand on chairs chas v’sholom, the job falls to the man.

Job # 2: We are shleppers. If there’s something heavy, it’s your job to lug it. If there’s something light, it’s still your job to lug it. It doesn’t matter how strong or weak you are, the man shleps. For anyone who’s been to my house, you can imagine what shopping day is like, and I accept the yissurim be’ahava.

Now mind you, your job is not to put stuff away, your job is to put the stuff down where your wife points, and she’ll file everything away. If you try to put stuff away, it means your wife will never find it, and you don’t want to get into that kind of trouble.

Job # 3: We are killers. You may love the animal kingdom and be a nature lover, but if a creature that isn’t your pet should find its way into your house, you better kill it dead. Whether it’s insects or mice or any kind of vermin. You better get rid of it. Incidentally, this is the only time women get up on chairs or stepstools.

Job # 4: It’ s our job to fetch things and check on things. Now remember, this request can happen at any time and it needs to be honored immediately. Women do not go up and down floors to get things for themselves. They also don’t go back to the car if they forget something. They send their husbands to do it. This is why it’s the man’s job to double-check that the front door is locked before going to sleep for the night. The bedroom is quite often on a different floor from the entrance, and women do not cross floors if they can elicit your services. The request is also sometimes vague because women like it when we’re forced to read their minds. So for example, you’re ready to go to sleep, you shut the lights, you cuddle up with your sweetie, and suddenly she’ll say, “I can’t remember if the front door is locked.” Your’e already screwed. Don’t say, “I think it is, I’m pretty sure, what’s the big deal?” Uh uh, once she hints the door might be open, you’re going back downstairs.

So this represents a problem: Your wife will send you to the basement or the cellar or the attic or the shed to fetch a food item, but you won’t know where it is, because, remember, you don’t put the food away! So what do you do? Well, if your wife sends you to get something, get everything there is under heaven in that category. This means that any time your wife sends you to a different part of the house, you will go back to that part of the house with all the extras you brought with you just to make her happy.

For example, if your wife sends you to the shed or garage or basement to get corn, you must bring the Shoepeg, the white, the yellow, the baby, the ears and the stalks. Everything. Then you return with all the extra items in your hand, and while you’re there, you could swear someone is calling you, but you’re not sure.

So Aron, I’ve now prepared you properly for marriage and your shona rishona. If you have any questions, don’t bother mommy and daddy, because they’re busy enjoying their 2nd shona rishona. You come to me. I’m always available for advice and to provide comfort for you in matters such as England’s embarrassment at the hand of the U.S. squad. I’m terribly terribly not sorry about that.

Mazel tov!

Finished Another Book!

2010-06-22T09:59:00.002-04:00

Snuff, by Chuck Palahniuk - Reading this book definitely put me on Santa's naughty list. This is possibly the tawdriest, most body-functional disgusting book that is legal for public distribution. There's actually some interesting sub-plotting, inventive narratives, fun puns and a psychotic ending. I read it because I wanted to try out Palahniuk, who appears to be extremely visceral with go-for-the-throat visuals. This definitely makes me want to read more of his work, but I don't recommend this for anyone. Your time is better spent reading or doing almost anything else.

7 Races Down, 3 to Go!

2010-06-20T15:25:00.002-04:00

Ran a Father's Day 5 miler in Central Park in the unbelievable, incomprehensible, stifling, choking, murderous heat. Made it out alive though. Forget the splits; there wasn't going to be any PRs with this one. Bonus: getting a text from my wife that she and my kiddies saw me wave at the camera and blow kisses to them on TV. Bonus # 2: Getting a call from my mom that she saw me too! Footnote: Met Charles Schumer for the the third time (High School graduation trip to Washington, college graduation ceremony, and today).

Finished Another Book!

2010-06-17T12:48:00.001-04:00

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Future, by Michael J. Fox - A breezy, refreshing, simply-put book of life lessons from an apparently grateful and humble man. The gimmick of showing that life offers the teachings taught under the popular categories in college works well. The book is short enough to be read in its entirety at a commencement ceremony. Enjoyable quickie.

Finished Another Book!

2010-06-15T18:29:00.001-04:00

Crazy for the Storm, by Norman Ollestad - What a fascinating survival story told in a fascinating way: The chapters vacillate between the survival and the upbringing that informed his survival. Additionally, once the tale is told, the coda of the rigors of growing into one's own is told with incredible passion and detail and nostalgia. There are no quotes around the spoken words in this book, which helps to convey the closeness the author feels to everyone in his book, as if he's fused with humanity, especially his father. A wonderful, powerful mesmerizing read.

Hadran Aluch Maseches Sanhedrin!

2010-06-13T07:19:00.001-04:00

...v'hadrach alun!

In honor of my son, Yonah Avraham, AKA Freddy. May the words of Torah never depart from our lips, and the lips of our children and children's children, forever. I have begun Makkos, in honor of the person for whom I'm partaking in the Jrunners relay race, Menachem Mendel ben Gella, may he have a refuah sheleimah!

Finished Another Book!

2010-06-13T07:12:00.002-04:00

My Jesus Year, by Binyamin Cohen - This book completely took me by surprise. I had thought it would be about a man giving up on his Judaism completely and embracing Christianity as a replacement, but it turned out to be that he enriched his Judaic experience by appreciating it more through the lens of a...nother religion. I am experiencing the same thing, as I'm reading a book about happiness by a Buddhist monk and am rediscovering the passion I have for my religion through the lens of another. Incidentally, this is the first book I ever finished on a Kindle. A "rite" of passage. Cool.

Finished Another Book!

2010-06-09T11:32:00.001-04:00

Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer - It's easy to understand why Krakauer undertook this endeavor, as he clearly sees some of himself in the subject of the story. The book meanders a bit, probably because too many facts aren't available and the saga itself is a bit thin, but it's compensated by the clear passion of the writer. As for McCandless himself, I state unequivocally that he was an unprepared arrogant idiot. He was a socially, philosophically, conservationally talented and intelligent man. His death was a complete waste of an extremely promising existence. A great shame.

6 Races Down, 4 to Go!

2010-06-06T22:18:00.002-04:00

Did the Japan Day 4M in Central Park (http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0606x00.asp) in the hot hot heat.

I started off with a 3 mile pre-race warmup in my new Nike Frees. So far, so good; no blister pain; they push me forward; they feel like socks; they're very interesting.

As for the race: I completed it in 34:43, 8:30 per mile. Splits: 7:47 (busted out of that start line like a mofo and stormed the hill),... 8:17 (uh oh, sun came out and starting roasting and slowing the runners down), 8:47 (no water stop at mile 2? Who they fooling? I need water!), 8:17 (Ah, got water and picked up the pace). My Frees are nice, real nice, I think I solved my blister problem. My plantar still needs work.

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-27T22:34:00.000-04:00

Why a Curveball Curves: The Incredible Science of Sports, by Frank Vizard - Another smart gift from my wife, who keeps surprising me with books I like to read that AREN'T on my Amazon Wish List. :-) The book was fun for me because I like sports and science. Two great tastes thrown together. The book was a bit uneven though, getting into the ...nitty-gritty in some sports while just glancing over others. Everyone should have gotten a fair shake. Still, I enjoyed very much.

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-27T22:03:00.000-04:00

Rising Sun, by Michael Chricton - Absolutely gripping. Quite an elaborate plot relayed in a very simple matter. 200 pages into this 388 page book I thought the case was wrapped, and then "Oh wow!" 150 pages later, I thought the story was wrapped again, and then "Oh wow!" Crichton kept pulling fast on...es, with great believable twists. A very, very good book. So good in fact, that I promise never to see the movie. :-)

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-27T19:52:00.001-04:00

Why a Curveball Curves: The Incredible Science of Sports, by Frank Vizard and Robert Lipsyte - Another smart gift from my wife, who keeps surprising me with books I like to read that AREN'T on my Amazon Wish List. :-) The book was fun for me because I like sports and science. Two great tastes thrown together. The book was a bit uneven though, getting into the nitty-gritty in some sports while just glancing over others. Everyone should have gotten a fair shake. Still, I enjoyed very much.

Celebrity Spotting! Kurtwood Smith

2010-05-24T12:43:00.000-04:00

After the Salute to Israel parade, we all went to Whitney Museum - just like everyone else - to use their restrooms. Standing outside was Boddicker from Robocop, whose other popular role was Red on That 70's show. He had his face buried in his Blackberry. I passed by and said, "I only know you as Boddicker." (I hadn't remembered his Red role at the time). He liked up and smiled and said, "Thaaaaanks," as if to say, "I've been in show business for 40 years and have distinguished myself and this is all you remember me for?" In hindsight, I could have said something much nicer. Ah well. Nice guy.

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-23T01:55:00.000-04:00

Just Say Nu: Yiddish for Every Occasion (When English Just Won't Do), by Michael Wex - Michael Wex has helped me rediscover my Joy for Yiddish. His first book, "Born to Kvetch" gave the history of Yiddish, while this book reads a lot like a "Yiddish for Dummies" book. As a matter of fact, if I could find a book on Hebrew written in this style, I might a...ctually finally learn the language. This book is quite funny and surprisingly potty-mouthed, so a flag of caution there. Actually, the heck with caution, try it this book speCIFically for the "leeb mit tren" chapter. :-)

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-21T01:47:00.000-04:00

A Seat at the Table: A Novel of Forbidden Choices, by Joshua Halberstam - This book was a pleasure to read. It accurately depicts human curiosity, the conflict of wanting to belong and needing to leave, the importance of family, the consequences of our choices. Additionally, the chassidic fables are beautifully woven into the narrative thro...ughout. The book provides great empathy for all the characters, no matter which side they're on in regard to the choices made by the protagonist. The work is fiction, but is the story of many people I know.

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-13T18:29:00.000-04:00

Four to Score, by Janet Evanovich - Of all the pistol-packin' hot mama protagonist novels I've read (I'm up to date on all the Grafton books), this is the most hilarious and entertaining by a country mile. If any should become a movie, this one has to be it. The characters are well imagined and fall-down funny, each in their own right. It's so good, I'd recommend enjoying it before the first three in the series instead of having to wait to enjoy this treasure.

5 Races Down, 5 to Go

2010-05-09T13:30:00.002-04:00

Mother's Day race in Central Park (http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0509x00.asp)

I warmed up with a 2 mile leisurely jog, battling winds that can only be classified as psychotic.

I then blitzed through 4 miles at a 7:51 clip. Splits: 7:37, 7:34, 8:20 (good ol' set of hills and water stop) and 7:56. As the training goes along, I'm getting faster and faster. I'm battling plantar fasciitis though, so we'll see what happens with the rest of my season.

Finished Another Book!

2010-05-06T13:57:00.000-04:00

The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, by Patrick Lencioni - This book imparts valuable lessons on teamwork in the manner of a fable. I find this method of parlaying business lessons to be quite effective. The fable itself holds your interest, and the distillation at the end is just short enough to continue holding it through the end. I do, think, however, that the fable itself could stand on its own, and the lessons in the coda could be inferred. I'd be more entertained and just as informed.

Celebrity Spotting! Dick Clark

2010-05-04T14:04:00.001-04:00

I spotted Dick Clark and said hi to him (he gave me a polite hello in return). He was chilling in a wheelchair outside a hotel. Looked good, unlike what he looks like on tv under all the corpse makeup.

I'm Running from Brooklyn to South Fallsburg!

2010-04-29T15:08:00.002-04:00

Well kinda, it'll be part of a relay race for a good cause.

Here's the long story short:

A friend of ours - a father of five - has been stricken with ALS.

His closest friends have organized a 200 kilometer (125 mile) race from Brooklyn to South Fallsburg, to take place on July 28, 2010. They have covered the expenses with their own wallets in the hopes of raising enough to take care of their friend and others afflicted with the same illness.

I will embark on this journey along with 99 others. We will relay run in teams of 10. We will not stop for 22 hours. We will do this for our friend. We ask that you support our cause:

http://www.jrunnersrelay.org/my/thebodie

Thank you so much.

P.S. I'll be hitting you up again later in the year for my marathon run for Ohel, so calibrate your contributions accordingly. :-)

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-29T14:06:00.000-04:00

Stiff: The Curious Life of Human Cadavers, by Mary Roach - I espied this book years ago when it was released, but figured people would find me odd if they caught me reading it. Many years later, I'm like, so totally over that. So I picked the book up, and enjoyed it. She discusses the fate of the human decedent from every angle possible and sprinkles the book with enough rather sharp humor to keep things from descending into morbidity. Very educational.

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-23T00:55:00.001-04:00

Your Kids are Your Own Fault by Larry Winget - Exactly the book I was looking for when searching for parenting ideas and approaches for my children. Larry is in-your-face, brash, direct, and blunt. He certainly subscribes to the school of Radical Honesty (I don't). I agreed with him on 80% of his po...ints, vehemently agreed with him on 15%, and disagreed with him on 5%. However, he did advise not to dismiss all his advice just because I might disagree with him on some. Know what? That's good advice. Three major points I disagreed on: 1) I don't believe in spanking, ever, no exceptions. 2) "Because I said so" is a not a valid response for me. 3) I think kids need to be treated a bit more gently than he espouses. Also, he recommended the book, "How to Talk so Kids Will Listen..." The book is useless. Larry's book is very, very good. I love his chain of command idea where the parent closest in proximity is in charge.

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-23T00:54:00.001-04:00

The Myth of Multitasking by Dave Crenshaw - A very interesting, very quick read on the perils of multitasking. It certainly sold me on its central idea. The book is written in a "fable" style vis-a-vis a professional meeting with a multitasker and educating her on better alternatives. I know that other business books are written this way, but I've never experienced one. It was quite interesting. I read the entire book in one day. I don't think I've done that before. Cool.

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-19T10:46:00.001-04:00

The 188th Crybaby Brigade by Joel Chasnoff - Quite a humorous book and a fun memoir. While he clearly sees serious things from a funny point of view, he never devolves into scoffing. I enjoyed this book very much. There is one element I have a minor issue with, but since it doesn' t detract from the quality of the book, it's not worth mentioning. Besides, I'm completely biased. Not only did he sign my book after an entertaining book reading, he also gave me solid advice on how I could get my book (www.lulu.com/product/paperback/bush-ii-book-i/6254252) into Jon Stewart's hands.

4 Races Down, 6 to Go!

2010-04-18T19:17:00.002-04:00

Warmed up with a 2 mile run, then ran a 4-miler (http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0418x00.asp) in a blistering 31:34, 7:53 per mile. First under 8s race of the year. Splits: 7:36 (possibly my fastest first race mile ever), 7:51, 8:23 (hill and water stop, same as last race), and 7:41. I'm getting faster. These pre-race runs seem to be really warming up the engines.

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-15T10:35:00.000-04:00

The Road by Cormac McCarthy - This book is crushing in its bleakness. There's a gimmick in the narrative that works really well. There are no quotes around what the characters say, nor are there hyphens in compound words, as if to say the survivors are too exhausted to bother with such details. The writing is propulsive and never meanders. One powerful resonance with me was that the characters refused to partake in cannibalism. My grandfather, on "the road" for most of the Holocaust, had opportunities to do so as well, but refused, and put his existence at riske by not succumbing. The book is a masterpiece.

Dr. Seuss Inspires Again!

2010-04-07T22:04:00.002-04:00

The Washington Times published my Dr. Seuss Obamacare parody - and gave it quite a clever title to boot! Plus, the graphic they came up with is ingenious. I've hardly ever been so pleased with handing my work over to someone else for publication.

Here is the article: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/apr/06/mean-regs-and-scam/

And here is the text in full:

Mean Regs and Scam
by
Martin Bodek
Copyright © 2010 by Martin Bodek

I am Bam
Bam I am

That Bam-I-am!
That Bam-I-am!
I do not like that Bam-I-am!

Do you like my health care plan?

I do not like it, Bam-I-am.
I do not like your health care plan.

Would you like it here or there?

I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.

I do not like this health care plan.
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

Would you like it with your spouse?
Shall I pass it in the House?

I do not like it with my spouse.
You shall not pass it in the House.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere.
I do not like this health care plan.
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

Would you like this when you're ill?
Would you like this with some frills?

Not when I'm ill.
Not with some frills
Not in the House.
Not with my spouse.
I would not have it here or there.
I would not have it anywhere.
I would not want this health care plan.
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

Would you? Could you? I'm the Czar!
Have it! Have it! Here you are.

I would not, could not, Mr. Czar.

You may like it. You will see.
You may like it when it's free!

I would not, could not when it's free.
It'll cost me. You will see.
I do not like it when I'm ill.
I do not like it with some frills.
I do not like it with my spouse.
You shall not pass it in the House.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere.
I do not like this health care plan.
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

For pain! For pain!
For pain! For pain!
Could you, would you,
For your pain?

Not for my pain! No, can't you see?
I'll say it plain! Bam! Let me be!
I would not, could not, when I'm ill.
I could not, would not, with some frills.
I will not have it with my spouse.
I do not want it near the House.
I will not have it here or there.
I will not have it anywhere.
I do not like this health care plan.
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

Say! For the Poor?
Yes, for the poor!
Would you, could you,
for the poor?

I would not, could not, for the poor.

Would you, could you, think again?

I would not, could not, think again.
Not for the poor. Not for the pain.
We can't afford. It isn't free.
I do not like it, Bam, you see.
Not in the House. Not for the frills.
Not with my spouse. Not when I'm ill.
I will not have it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere!

You do not like my health care plan?

I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

Could you, would you, place your vote?

I would not, could not, place my vote!

Would you, could you, help this float?

I could not, would not, place my vote.
I will not, will not, help this float.
I will not have it for my pain.
Please don't bother me again.
We can't afford. It isn't free.
I do not like it, Bam, you see.
I do not like it when I'm ill.
I do not like it with the frills.
I do not want it in the House.
I do not like it with my spouse.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it ANYWHERE!
I do not like this health care plan!
I do not like it, Bam-I-am.

You do not like it. So you say.
Try it! Try it! And you may.
Try it and you may, I say.

Bam! If you will let me be,
I will try it. You will see.
Say! I like this health care plan!
I do! I like it, Bam-I-am!
And I would take it with the bloat.
And you'll have a legacy to gloat.
And I will take the increased tax.
And all the convoluted facts.
To Kingdom Come with happy glee.
This is so good, so good, you see!

Martin Bodek is the author of "Bush II, Book I" (lulu.com, 2010).

Finished Another Book!

2010-04-07T22:00:00.001-04:00

Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond - This is the greatest, most concise, illuminating, myth-debunking, well-researched, informative, exhilarating, eye-opening book on the history of civilization that I have ever read. A friend of mine told me how proud he was that he read it before it won its Pulitzer. I now understand the source of his pride. It should replace all history books used in school.

Marathon Training Begins

2010-04-04T11:16:00.003-04:00

7 miles in 1:06:43, 9:32 per mile, a good way to officially kick off my training season. My schedule had me doing 3 miles today, but lefnim meshiras hadin never hurt anybody (okay, that's debatable).

Preliminary assessment of my Running-through-winter experiment is quite positive. My legs are strong, my knees have held up, I have no muscle fatigue, all my joints are pain-free, I've lost 6 pounds and I've got a 50 mile head-start on any of my previous training seasons.

As Dilios said in 300 (The 2nd greatest action movie of all-time): "A good start."

3 Races Down, 7 to Go!

2010-03-28T21:52:00.002-04:00

I ran a 4 miler in Central Park today (http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/ccc/index.asp) in 32:02, exactly 8:00 per mile. Nice. I placed 468th out of 2446 runners, in the top 5th! Nicer! My splits were 7:47, 7:44, 8:34 (hill and water stop) and 7:58. Nicest!

Aw hell, I had an awesome race. I actually woke up this morning with stiff hamstrings due to all the ups and downs from my basement to the kitchen because of the Pesach turnover last night. I decided to run 2 miles before the race and it totally loosened me up. Felt great today.

The Knish is Back! Woohoo!

2010-03-19T00:43:00.002-04:00

Issue # 30! Now at a browser near you!: http://www.theknish.com/

9.5 Miles Through the Apocalypse

2010-03-14T13:35:00.002-04:00

This morning I did my new favorite run: All the way to Teaneck followed by brunch with my family.

The run itself was insane.

First, it was as if I was surveying the aftermath of the apocalypse. A nor'easter blew through the region and downed trees, uprooted fences, blew planters and garbage cans across streets, created massive flooding and "police line - do not cross" tape was everywhere.

I saw two cars in one driveway absolutely pulverized by a tree. One day a family has two cars, the next day: zero.

I ran past a field of shingles on the ground. I looked up. The roof of the house was completely skinned of its shingles. Completely bare!

Then I ran past a church whose steeple looked like it had taken a round from a tank. It was in smithereens and splinters and the blown-out columns were splayed out on the grounds of the building.

Second, the rain. The first 7 miles of the run was drizzle, no biggie. But then the heavens opened up and I got drenched from the tip of my cap to the bottom of my new Asics Gels. There was no dry concrete, earth or asphalt for me to run on and no tree or awning cover whatsoever. Still, I enjoyed it. I seem to thrive on adverse weather. I feel tough and strong and macho and adventurous.

Finally I rolled in to the bagel shop and met up with my family and had a yummy and filling (the run burned approximately 1,200 calories) meal.

Before departing, a friend of my wife's walked in and delivered the news that the night before, two of her neighbors were coming home from shul and were struck and killed by a falling tree. Apparently, one of them had stormed out of the house following an argument. He never made it back for a reconciliation.

My gosh.

Lessons for the day:

1) It is good to be alive, and to live life to its fullest, and to love the one you're with.
2) Mother nature is tougher and stronger and more macho than you.
3) Car insurance, house insurance, and for the love of G-d - and your family! - life insurance!!!

More Basic Math from Yours Truly

2010-03-13T23:16:00.000-05:00

http://www.nydailynews.com/opinions/2010/03/13/2010-03-13_untitled__vox13ed.html?page=1

Finished Another Book!

2010-03-09T17:58:00.002-05:00

Mister B. Gone, by Clive Barker - I read all of Clive Barker's books when I was a wee little lad. He then came out of the closet and all of his books thereafter sucked miserably. He's gone back to his roots and has spun an interesting tale with an inventive spin. Maybe he broke up with his partner.

2 Races Down, 8 to Go

2010-03-07T19:57:00.001-05:00

5K race (http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0307x00.asp) in 26:12, 8:26 PM, Fun fun run with lots of great music on the sidelines. My sister, less than 2 minutes behind me, established a 5k PR. Major milestone of the day: I'm now so bald, I can't pin a yarmulka to my head anymore. If I still want to "represent" I can either grow my hair like Terry Bradshaw or get a bigger yarmulka.

Finished Another Book!

2010-03-03T18:46:00.002-05:00

Charles Darwin: The Concise Story of an Extraordinary Man by Tim M. Berra - I am as fascinated by the man as I am by his accomplishments. This book gives a nice concise summary of his qualities as a doting husband, caring father, curious scientist, thorough experimenter and relisher of thinking in quietude, qualities I'd love to emulate.

Finished Another Book!

2010-03-02T18:08:00.001-05:00

Lord of the Flies, by William Golding - I started reading this when I was a kid, but couldn't grasp it. I revisited it and was terrified, even though I knew what was coming. It read a lot like "There Will be Blood", where you know the menace is coming - even though it may be all the way at the end - but the slow boil is still riveting.

I've Hit the Big Time!

2010-02-28T00:11:00.002-05:00

I've made it to the Wall Street Journal of Jewish journalism! That's right, Hamodia! Enjoy!:

Excerpts from the Abridged Prepared Table, A.K.A. The Gentile Kitzur

Redacted by

Mordechi Bodek

The Dead Seagate scrolls consist of about three documents, including texts from the Abridged Prepared Table, discovered between 5769 and 5770 in eleven restaurants in and around Little Odessa near the ruins of the ancient settlement of Coney Island, on the southwest shore of the Dead Seagate.

The texts are of great religious and historical significance, as they include some of the only known surviving copies of Jewish Gentile law made before 2010 C.E. and preserve evidence of early third temple Gentilism.

In this publication, we are proud to display excerpts of this marvelous find, the full version of which will be published soon, just in time for Eliyahu to answer all Taikus on the matter just before Moshiach arrives.

Chapter 3: Hilchos Shabbos Goy

1) When you are confronted by your Jewish neighbor on Shabbos (“the Sabbath”), do not be so intimidated by his panicked facial expression as to hasten across the street. Rather, hear out what he has to say.

2) The secret to deciphering your Jewish neighbor’s anguished pleas is antonyms. He wants exactly the opposite of what he’s saying. For example, if he says “It’s cold in my house,” this means he wants the heat on. If he says, “I left my keys in the car,” he wants you to get them out. If he says, “I have my in-laws over,” it means you go back to your glory days as a Rebbeh’s gabbai (“bouncer”).

3) If you’re brought into a shul (“synagogue”) to perform an antonym, you don’t have to put on a yarmulka (“skullcap”). This would be ma’ares ayin (“Hold up, that Jew is doing what on Shabbos?”) anyway.

4) Your tip is schnapps (“liquor”) and sponge cake. Sorry, that’s all we have as currency on Shabbos. You wouldn’t eat wiggly cubes of chicken fat, would you?

Chapter 16: Hilchos Shabbos Car Service

1) If you get a call from a Jew on Shabbos, the missus is about to deliver a baby. Let’s roll.

2) When you arrive, note that your payment is right in the doorway, on the radiator cover or mirror shelf. The husband has researched your fees and added the standard 3% tip. Enjoy.

Chapter 23: Hilchos Mechiras Chometz

1) Congratulations, you now own a multi-billion dollar corporation! And you barely paid anything for it! Who said these Jews have good business sense?

2) In return, though, we may ask you to sell it back to us for a similar price in the near future. It’s only fair.

3) Sale or no sale, if you come into our house and start making yourself a sandwich, we will probably panic and call the cops. No hard feelings, though.

Chapter 57: Hilchos Jewish Co-worker

1) If for some reason you have a Jewish co-worker, ask him annoying questions. He’ll love it.

2) Our favorite questions are: “You’ve never had lobster? Never? No really, never? Never ever? Aw c’mon, never? Don’t you wanna try?” and: “Really? You can have any beer you want? Any one? Really? How about Heineken? Can you have that one? Really? Also Coors? Really? Coors?” and finally: “But why won’t you accept this bottle of wine from me as a gift?”

3) That time we disappear for two days, but no news outlet has announced what Jewish holiday it is? That’s something called Shavuous. (“Pentecost.”) (Okay, that’s not really better. How about “Festival of Weeks”?) Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we might as well tell you what it’s about: We stay up all night learning and then fall asleep while the Torah is being read to make up for oversleeping when the Torah was being given.

4) Don’t concern yourselves with our Hebrew names. You couldn’t pronounce them anyway. Instead, we’ll make a real effort to at least respond to the name we’ve given you.

5) You work on our holidays and we work on yours. Even though we have 19 more holidays than you do, we think it’s a fair compromise. This is because we use up all our vacation days without actually ever taking a vacation.

6) No, that’s not kosher. That’s just the symbol for a registered product.

6b) No, it’s still not kosher. That’s just the copyright symbol.

Chapter 68: Hilchos Alternate Side Days

1) You’re welcome.

Chapter 78: Hilchos Attending a Jewish Friend’s Wedding.

1) Men on one side, women on the other. Violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

2) The evening usually begins with a smorgasbord, which means, “Ahhhhh numnumnumnumnum.” Or at least on the women’s side. The men have a “Chosson’s Tisch” which means “Slim pickins.”

3) Wait, the ceremony’s not over yet. That hushed silence you hear is everyone waiting for the groom to make several abortive attempts to break a glass with his foot.

4) Beer? What beer? Jews don’t drink; they eat! Beer is for Shalom Zachors, not weddings.

5) Dancing is done in a circle, counterclockwise and smooshed for the people with the felt hats and the sidelocks behind the ears, clockwise and orderly for the people with the fur and the sidelocks in front of their ears. We don’t know line dancing from break dancing, and will sue you for the injuries if you try to teach us.

6) Despite the specter of swine flu, you are required to hold the hand of the person in front of you and the person behind you. The only way halfway out of this is if you become the first or last in a circle that can’t quite reach around to the other side to make it complete.

7) The people asking for money are called “schnorrers.” No mocking. You do it with a plate, we do it by shoving a wad of $500 bills in your face. You can determine honesty by lamination. Laminated forgeries are too expensive for dishonest people to buy.

Chapter 99: Hilchos Understanding What Jews are Talking About

1) “What means this?” means “What does this mean?” It’s a linguistic tic we just can’t shake.

2) “By” is not the English word meaning “near” or “next to”. It is the Yiddish word meaning “at”. Thus, if we ask someone to stay by our house, we are not asking him to sleep on the lawn.

3) “Shidduch crisis” means there are way more unmarried girls than boys in some sects, and way more unmarried boys than girls in others, and intermarriage is strictly forbidden. Where would they eat on Passover? .

4) “Oy” means “Uch”. “Uch” means “Yoy”. “Yoy” means “Uch in vey”. “Uch in vey” means “A bruch”. “A bruch” means “Oy”.

5) “Machatonim” are… um, they’re uh… um… Wow! There’s no English word for it! Moving right along…

6) “Naches” cannot be defined. It is a scientific formula that needs to be pie-charted to be understood. It is 41% pride, 31% joy, 16% pleasure, 11% satisfaction and 1% horrible grammar. (EXAMPLE: “My son oy such a doctor he is you should only know!”)

Chapter 100: Hilchos Black Boxes with Wires

1) They’re called tefillin. Jews wear them every day. Biblical texts are inside. Yes, we mumble when we wear them, and sometimes we won’t respond to people who are speaking to us, but we mean you no harm. Please do not divert the plane.

Finished Another Book!

2010-02-21T00:20:00.001-05:00

How We Decide, by Jonah Lehrer - 50 pages into this book and I suddenly realized why I liked it so much - his style is almost exactly that of my favorite non-fiction writer: Malcolm Gladwell. The book covers a lot of Gladwell's "Blink" territory, but - as you can surmise from the title - it totally focuses on the decision-making process. Conclusion: think about how you think. It's more complicated than it sounds.

Finished Another Book!

2010-02-14T14:17:00.001-05:00

The Way Toys Work, by Ed Sobey and Woody Sobey - My wife got this for me as a gift - and she knows me well. The title and subtitle explain exactly what the book is. It satisfied huge curiosities of mine. Buy it for your kids, then read it yourself.

Another Teaneck Run

2010-02-14T13:04:00.002-05:00

Ran all the way to Teaneck - through various snowdrifts and ice formations - and allllll the way to the bagel shop, where I met up with my wife for breakfast. While there, I met the gadol hador, Rav Pinky Schmeckelstein. Such an honor.