Race Report: Chamberas 6K

"Always what I thought cross country should be all about. A group of runners meeting in some field some place and racing through ungroomed woods and fields."
- Ryan Carrara, two-time winner of the Thomas Chamberas 6K cross country race

I couldn't have summed the race up any better myself, not to mention this guy's won the damn thing two years in a row now, so who am I to argue with him.

Plus, he doubles as my training partner, so I wouldn't want to piss him off in the event he's feeling good on a Tuesday night hill session or a weekend workout. We've got enough of them left before Bay State and I don't wanna take a chance on getting an unexpected drilling, thank you very much.

Anyway, I will take a quick shot at wrapping up this past weekend's race in my own words. I'm a little strapped for time, so a few key adjectives will have to suffice for now.

Fast. Competitive. Technical. Raw.

And at the risk of reinforcing my reputation as an unoriginal bastard of the blogs, I'll now steal a full line from Jim Johnson and call it a night.

"You don't slow down to conserve or back off while thinking about pace....you just hammer."

Like I said, raw. Racing in it's purest form. No mile markers, no splits, no mercy. Real cross country, baby.

The Mahone Tone

This rendition of the Star Spangled Banner was even better live on Sunday morning. Just trust me on that, but click the link anyway for your own listening pleasure.

P.S. I swear it won't contaminate your computer, just your ear drums.

P.P.S. Race report by the end of the week. Maybe.

Flushed

I was going to post a race report today - really, I was - but I ended up getting a lot of other lingering shit taken care of instead. And tonight I had dinner with my sister Jayme, who arrived home in the wee hours of the morning from her first stint as the lead lighting techie on Carnival Cruise Line's Conquest. Plus, just as I was starting to feel good about the 91 miles I ran last week, I came across Nate's most recent training log and any motivation to write about my own running went right down the shitter. With a little luck it will resurface later in the week - my motivation, that is.

In the meantime, here's a couple pics from the race (courtesy of Jim Rhoades and Jim Johnson, respectively) to tide ya'll over.

Training Log: August 17-23

Sunday - AM: 17.5 miles, 2:01:30. Solo through Millbury and Grafton. Last 45 minutes a dehydrated death march.

Monday - AM: 6 miles, 42:25. 6 x 20/40 strides on the way home. PM: 6 miles, 44:00.

Tuesday - AM: 4 miles, 30:00. PM: 11 miles. 12 x 1:00 hills on Heartbreak with the Justins and Jen. Alternated sets of 3 between grass and road.

Wednesday - AM: 6 miles, 44:25. PM: 6.5 miles, 48:00.

Thursday - AM: 10 miles, 1:12:00. Felt a bit rough around the edges.

Friday - PM: 12 miles, 1:23:30. First 5 miles easy with SKinney, then 7 x 2:00 on/1:00 off @ 10K effort.

Saturday - AM: 7 miles, 51:00. PM: 5 miles, 36:00. 6 x 100m strides afterward.

Totals: 91 miles, 11 runs. Finally got the long run up over 2 hours and the overall mileage into the 90's, so I accomplished my two major goals for the week. Tuesday's hill session was short-n-sweet and Friday's fartlek was just enough to keep the wheels spinning heading into this morning's Chamberas 6K cross country race, which I will write about in detail tomorrow. New Haven's next up on the racing docket, so next week's log will be pretty boring - as if this one was all that exciting to begin with.

Training Log: August 10-16

Sunday - AM: 15 miles, 1:46:25 with A-Ten at West Hill.
Monday- AM: 7.5 miles, 57:45 on the bike path with Hodgie-San.
Tuesday - AM: 11 miles. 5 x 1 mile w/1:30 recovery with Ryan at the Morgan Bowl in Hudson. 5:02, 5:04, 5:05, 5:05, 5:01. PM: 6 miles, 45:00 with Casey at West Hill.
Wednesday - PM: 9 miles, 1:07:30 with Casey in Westboro.
Thursday - AM: 13.5 miles, 1:31:00 including 6 x 20/40 strides.
Friday - OFF.
Saturday - AM: 13 miles. 7.5-mile solo PMP in 40:31 at Fresh Pond. 13:35, 13:31, 13:25 for the three loops which works out to an average of 5:24 or so per mile.
Totals: 75 miles, 7 runs. We're inside 10 weeks now till the Big Show otherwise known as Bay State and training is finally getting to where it needs to be. I missed a couple of easy runs because life got in the way, but I nailed all the important stuff so I'm gonna go ahead and call this a pretty good week. I'll try my damnedest to kick things up a bit this coming week and then I'll rest up for a week before New Haven on September 1.

Tuesdays with Ryan

I'd hate for Ryan to have a stressful weekend down the Cape, so to ease his nerves here are our splits from Tuesday morning's 5 by 1-mile workout at Hudson High's Morgan Bowl. Recovery was a scant 90 seconds between each repeat.

1. 5:02.99
2. 5:04.97
3. 5:05.53
4. 5:05.58
5. 5:01.10

This was a solid effort for the two of us, and we successfully avoided the the clown walking across Lane 1 on the final repeat, so no casualties. And the weather was about as cooperative as it's ever gonna be in August, so no complaints there. We've still got a long ways to go, but all in all, I'd say we're off to a good start. Just gotta keep the ball rolling...

Relax!

I'd love love LOVE to write in this space much more often, but let's face it, time, or lack thereof, just doesn't allow me to do so as regularly as I would like. I've got a few free minutes this morning as I roll my f'd up foot around on a golf ball, and thought I'd share a relevant little snippet from Marty Liquori's autobiography, On the Run, which I am slowly making my way through a few pages at a time.

"I was a compulsive worker, and maybe I still am. I've only recently learned how to relax, I've only recently realized I never knew how to relax. I still work at it, which may sound contradictory, but that's what I do. I'm still learning that I don't have to feel guilty when I just sit and listen to records. I'm still learning that I don't have to feel guilty when I go off and strum my guitar. I'm a workoholic, and it's a curse."

Boy, is it ever. This "Go! Go! Go!" way of thinking can become so consuming that while we're so caught up in trying to get everything done, we end up missing out on everything else. I'm getting better at trying to reverse this wacky way of thinking, but as my boy Marty alluded to, it's a tough pattern to break.

The lesson here? Relax, folks. I'm still learning how to do so myself, still working at it a little bit every day. Right now, however, I've gotta run, quite literally. Ciao!

Training Log: August 3-9

So there's 10 weeks to go till Bay State which means it's time to stop f'n around and time to get down to business. Pretty much dove in head first this week with the goals of getting the mileage back up and getting the workouts in again, which is exactly what I did. Cumulative fatigue and impending injuries be damned.

The numbers, raw like the skin on this guy's knees.

Sunday - AM: 13 miles, 1:31:15 with Ryan and Christy Mae.
Monday - AM: 8.5 miles, 1:00:00. PM: 4.5 miles, 30:00 including 10 x 30 sec hard/30 sec easy.
Tuesday - AM: 4 miles, 30:00. PM: 8 miles, 1:00:00 with Casey after work.
Wednesday - AM: 4 miles, 30:00. PM: 11 miles. 6 x 2:00 hills @ 85% effort with Ryan & Ceiks on Eli Whitney St. in Westboro.
Thursday - AM: 7.5 miles, 53:55.
Friday - AM: 10 miles, 1:10:00 including 6 x 20/40 strides.
Saturday - AM: 12 miles. 4.6 mile Lincoln tempo run in with Ryan and Justin. Splits - 5:19, 5:23, 5:12, 3:09 (0.6), 5:01 = 24:04/5:13 avg.
Totals: 83 miles, 10 runs. Best week in a long while and a definite step in the right direction. Workouts weren't spectacular, but they were solid and that's good enough for now. I'll continue to build up for a couple more weeks, then scale things back a bit for New Haven on Labor Day before really ramping it up during the month of September, at which point I'll either be in 2:24 shape or very very injured. Let's keep our fingers crossed for the former.

B2B: The Way Racing Shouldn't Be

I've got a race report somewhere up my sleeve, and if I have some free time tomorrow (ha!) I'll be sure to roll up those sleeves up and let that sucker loose, but for now the Cliff's Notes version of this past weekend's Beach 2 Beacon 10K will have to suffice.

(Editor's note: After reviewing the content, the Cliff's Note's version will indeed suffice - permanently.)

Mile 1: Mario got out in about 5 minutes flat, hanging off the back of the women's lead pack and not feeling very comfortable with 5.2 miles of racing still left to go. He turns to former teammate Jeff Caron and says, "This is definitely faster than 33-minute pace."

Mile 2: The course started rolling a bit and Mario's pace slows down to a 5:22. The women's lead pack, which also included local studs Justin Lutz, David Bedoya and a few other hangers-on, pulled away and opened up a little bit of a gap.

Mile 2-1/2: Accepting the fact he was running like a huge pussy and didn't want to suffer any more, Mario backs off his effort a bit, waits for Rebecca Donaghue and Artie Gilkes to catch up (they weren't far behind to begin with), and proceeds to dangle himself like a carrot in front of his teammate, who would later finish as the top American woman in the race.

Mile 3: The net downhill carries Mario to a 5:18 third mile and a 16:18 split at 5K. JC has pulled away and Rebecca is rolling right along like she's out for a Saturday morning stroll. Colin Ingram, Mario's Mizuno rep and all-around good guy, pulls up along side our hurtin' hero with the clashing kit and engages him in the following exchange...

Colin: Let's go, Mario.
Mario: I'm in...the hurt box...dude.
Colin: I'm...way...over my head...too.

Mile 4: What goes down must come up, or something like that. In this case, that something was the pace, which shot up to 5:27 for no good reason. Actually, there was nothing good about this mile, or memorable anyway, so we'll leave it at that.

Mile 5: The clock read 26:35, but the big banner announcing the 5-mile mark about 150 meters before the actual 5-mile mark was enough of a tease that the split didn't mean shit when Mario finally reached the clock. His race well over, Rebecca's was just beginning as he and Artie kept close tabs on the fading Kenyan woman a few yards up ahead.

Mile 6: Resigned to his self-appointed role as domestique, Mario led Rebecca's charge into Fort Williams Park and quickly got the hell out of the way as the Pink Panther went on the prowl. By the 6-mile mark our new hero had boxed up one foreign delicacy and was ready to pick herself off another one, but simply ran out of real estate despite a sub 60-second clocking for her last 2/10 of a mile.

Synopsis: Mario ran a ball-less race. He needs to get his head on straight and his ass in gear.

Hummin' a slow tune

Been a couple of pretty ho-hum days 'round these parts, with a lotta bit o' work and a little bit of running mixed in to keep things somewhat interesting. Training has been pretty unspectacular since Sunday night's post, with an easy 4/4 double yesterday followed by a 6/6 split bill today.

This morning I made the most of limited time and fartleked 2 minutes on, 2 minutes off for the last 28 minutes of my run, just enough to keep the wheels spinning before I race in the World Championship of Maine, otherwise known as the Beach 2 Beacon 10K, on Saturday morning. After work, I took a leisurely 49 minute tour of Westboro with Rich, and along with discussing business matters, contemplated the Meaning of Life. OK, so that second part's a lie, but we did have a short, yet productive chat about life at the store, so short in fact that we had to finish it up afterward over a meal for the mighty, ie burritos and beer.

And that's about it. All I've got on tap for the rest of the week is a couple more days of work, some easy runnin' and bagging as much sleep in between as my schedule allows. Then it's off to Vacationland on Friday for a couple of days of fun in the sun. Oh yeah, and that little 10K road race on Saturday morning, almost forgot.

Take it back

Take back everything I wrote in that last post. The race got canceled on account of inclement weather. No big win, no heartbreaking loss, no cool prizes, nothing. Maybe next year.

I left Holden Center disappointed, dejected and above all, hungry. So I did what any good Italian kid with nothing better to do on a Sunday night would do - visit his Nana for a meal of macaroni and meatballs. Who needs to spend 10 bucks on a road race when you can get fed...for free!

And like when Frank saw Blue, it was glorrrrrrious. Well, until I got home about an hour later and decided on a whim it would be a bright idea to go out and attempt my tempo run. Good idea in theory, bad practice on a full stomach. It was anything but glorious.

Downright disgusting, in fact. Luckily I didn't hurl, but 28:05 for 5 miles is pretty ugly. My legs felt good, but 5:30 pace for the last couple miles was as fast as my ready-to-spew stomach would allow me to go.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Eye on the prize(s)

I'm racing tonight, sort of.

In a few hours I'll be heading to the hilly town of Holden for the 45th running of the Fred S. Warren 5.5 Mile Road Race. This will be the fourth time I've contested this mid-summer Central Mass. classic, and for the record, the course is no longer than 5.3 miles, so if you're checking results tomorrow and it looks like I blazed the sucker, trust me, I didn't.

And believe me, I'm not going to try to, either. My goal for tonight's "race" is to get in a steady, solid effort, and if the cards fall in my favor (to be read: if Mike Smith or Mike Banks decide not to show up), win the thing. The idea is to not blow out the tubes before Beach 2 Beacon next weekend, where the stage will be a little bigger and the competition a little stiffer.

So why worry about winning at all then? Well, my reason is two-fold. First, and quite simply, I don't like losing. Second, I'll have first dibs at one of the dozens of brilliant merchandise prizes this race is known for dishing out afterward. Last year, I won a handy hand mixer after finishing sixth in a rather unspectacular 30:58. Since I'm a little more fit this summer - I think - I figure I'll be a few places and a couple minutes ahead of that tonight, which should open up a world of possibilities - perhaps a toaster, set of gas cans, extra-large lawn blanket or that charcoal grill I had my eye on last year. Stay tuned to see how I make out.

Routine maintenance

Alright, alright, I'll update my blog. Not that I didn't want to earlier this week, but time, as usual, is the major roadblock standing between my trigger finger and the PUBLISH POST button.

Since Papa Billy's wedding last Saturday, I haven't been up to anything worth writing about, other than reintegrating myself back into a regular routine with work, running and the like. The transition back to work has been seemless, running, not so much. I took last Sunday off to give my body a break and followed suit similarly today by electing to catch a few extra Z's rather than run a few extra miles. That's two days off within the same seven-day period and no, I'm not gonna lose any extra sleep over it. Just the opposite in fact.

Starting Sunday, however, I've got to get my ass in gear whether I like it or not. Two days from now marks the magical 12-week starting point of my Bay State buildup. Time to get the miles back up, stretch the long runs out a bit, work out twice a week again with regularity and sleep enough in between to recover from it all. Just found out the other day that this guy is officially on board and we'll be riding the train together all the way to Lowell.

So clear the tracks, we'll be comin' atcha full steam ahead.

Weddin' pikshaz

Bill and Bernie, happy as can be.

Papa Billy and the Fraioli boys.

Between Mr. and Mrs. Kirwin. Eyes closed, of course.

And yes, there was even an ice cream truck.

Pre-weekend update

OK, since I was giving this guy a load of shit for not updating his blog, I figure it's about time I bring my own similar-looking site back up to speed now that said guy as upped the ante with an Olympic Trials recap of epic proportions never before seen in the Blogosphere.

This paltry post won't be nearly as in depth, as there's not much to report since my last entry other than accumulating fatigue and a few uninspired jogs, which included a sidewalk face plant on Thursday and the always embarrassing getting passed from behind by a girl on Wednesday. No, I'm not making this stuff up. It's been that kind of week.

Luckily, there's been plenty to look forward today and heading into the weekend, including a visit this afternoon with my adopted niece Danielle Frances Kinney, who was born to two of my very best friends less than 24 hours after Mom died, along with my grandfather's wedding tomorrow morning. Yep, Circle of Life in full effect right there. You better believe it.

And yes, you read that second part above correctly. My grandfather, almost 80 years old, is tying the knot with his fantastic fiance, Bernice Stone, a wonderful woman he met after my Nana passed away a few years ago. Go Papa Billy!

After a tough couple weeks for me and my family, we're all very much looking forward to tomorrow's festivities. The ceremony will be a low-key affair in the woods of rural Charlton, followed by an awesome afternoon of fun, food and more fun and more food. To see the sadness in Papa Billy's eyes the last few weeks turn to sparkle upon mention of the wedding was enough to put a smile on anyone's face. It's gonna be a great time, chock full of fun, laughter and celebration, which is exactly what this family needs right now.

Back on track

It's no first person Olympic Trials recap (still waitin' on it JC!), but here's the rough data from tonight's track workout, my first in three weeks.

5 x 1K @ 3:08.62, 3:07.80, 3:08.44, 3:07.16, 3:05.63 w/200m jog recovery in 1:10-1:30, 2 x 800m in 2:25.77, 2:21.56 w/1:00 recovery.

Since everyone else's season is pretty much over I flew solo on this one, and all things considered it went pretty well. I felt strong and Kevin said I looked smooth, so I'll take it. Basically I'm in maintenance mode right now until Beach 2 Beacon on August 2nd, then I'll shut it down for a week and then it's full steam ahead to Bay State on October 19. Heard rumor that this guy might possibly be joining me for a scenic 26.2-mile tour of Lowell. Boy, that would be just swell.

Routine update

Finally starting to get back into a regular life routine, and hopefully I'll be back into the blogging routine - however sporadic it may be - by the end of the week. Perhaps by then this guy and maybe even this guy will be back at it as well.















Yep, I just called you suckas out. Somebody has to try and keep it real 'round here.

Mom's Eulogy

A few people have asked me for a copy of Mom's eulogy from earlier today, but since I only had the original written version, I decided that typing it up and posting it here would be the easiest way to get it out, and the best way to leave a lasting tribute for Mom.

When I was a little kid, whenever my Mom would drive me somewhere - and she drove me everywhere - whether it was basketball practice, summer camp, a friend's house, wherever, when the song, "Here Comes The Sun" by the Beatles would come on the radio, Mom would remind me every time, without fail, that when I was a baby she would sing this song to me.

"It was your favorite song," she used to say. "You loved it."

Whatever, Mom. At the time, I didn't know who the Beatles were, and I sure didn't remember ever liking that song, but I just took her word for it. Years later, when I would finally develop a taste for good music, I remembered that song. I actually grew to like it - still do, in fact. It became one of my favorites. Maybe Mom was right, then again, Mom was always right.

"Mothers know everything bud," she would remind me at least once a week.

Well, a little less than a week ago, I don't think anyone knew that Mom was gonna be taken from us, not even her.

When I arrived at the Emergency Room of St. Vincent's Hospital last Tuesday, in the middle of a nasty thunderstorm, my own world quickly turned as dark and gray as the one outside.

"They...think...she's...dead...Mario," my brother Matt finally spit out to me. One look at my crying father told me this was no terrible nightmare. This was a horrific reality. Mom had passed on from this life.

There was nothing we, or anyone else, could do about it, so we gathered together, as a family, in the waiting room at the hospital.

We cried, as a family.

We hugged, as a family.

We told each other we were gonna stay stay strong and get through this tough time. Again, as a family.

We needed each other, but we all also needed a moment to ourselves. I needed to get out of that room, I needed some fresh air. So I took a walk outside.

As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the sun was shining bright and Mom started singing my favorite song to me.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's alright.

Well Ma, it might take a little while but it's gonna be alright. And since you know everything, I'll just take your word for it. In the meantime, we'll remember you for the wonderful woman you were - wife, mother, daughter, aunt, friend.

Mom was a giver in the truest sense of the word. She gave herself to my Dad as his devoted wife of 27 years. As a mother, she gave life to me and my three beautiful siblings, not to mention hundreds of car rides to camps, practices, recitals, friend's houses and everywhere else under the sun. She gave generously to her family and friends, baking dozens and dozens of cookies during the month of December so everyone could have a full tin for Christmas. Jay, she still needs yours back by the way.

Mom gave and gave and gave some more and never asked for anything in return, except maybe for a medium iced caramel swirl latte with skim milk, no sugar, whipped cream and extra caramel if you just happened to be going by Dunkin' Donuts on your way home.

Well, Mom's not gonna be at home anymore, but that's OK because Nana has some company in heaven now. The two of them will always be with us, always watching over us.

I miss you Mom.

We all miss you.

And as Sean and Alicia told you every time they saw you or talked to you on the phone, "Auntie, we love you."

Mom, we all love you.

Mom, 3/25/58-7/1/08

Shirley M. (Kirwin) Fraioli, 50, of Auburn, died unexpectedly Tuesday, July 1, 2008, at home.

Shirley is survived by her loving family; her husband, Mario Fraioli; two sons, Mario Fraioli, Jr. of Worcester, Matthew K. Fraioli of Auburn; two daughters, Jayme L. Fraioli and Lisa M. Fraioli, both of Auburn; her father, William Kirwin, Sr. of Millbury; three brothers, Michael Kirwin and his wife Frances of Worcester, William Kirwin, Jr. and Anthony Kirwin both of Millbury; four sisters, Jane-Marie Mrazik and her husband David of Oxford, Denise Dalpe and her husband James of Millbury, Christine Godbout and her husband Roger of Worcester, Patricia Kirwin and her companion Jay West of Millbury, as well as many aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins.

Shirley was born in Worcester and lived here most of her life before moving to Millbury. Her mother was the late Patricia (VanAlstyne) Kirwin. She was a graduate of North High School. Shirley enjoyed being a homemaker and loved being with her family, especially her niece, Alicia and nephew, Sean. Among her many interests she enjoyed sewing, baking, walking, and camping. She loved to read, and enjoyed spending time with her close friends. Shirley was a devoted wife and mother whose time spent with her family was precious to her. She will be missed dearly by her family and friends. Shirley was a former member of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel-St Ann Church, and was a long time volunteer for the American Cancer Society.

Shirley's funeral will be held Monday from the MERCADANTE FUNERAL HOME & CHAPEL, 370 Plantation St. with a Mass of Christian burial at 11:00AM in Our Lady of Mt. Carmel-St Ann Church, 24 Mulberry St. Calling hours in the funeral home will be 4-7PM on Sunday. Burial will be in Notre Dame Cemetery. Flowers may be sent or contributions made to the Susan G. Komen For The Cure, 5005 LBJ Freeway, Suite 250, Dallas, TX. 75244.

Tragic Tuesday

I never made it to my chiropractic appointment in Natick on Tuesday, or my track workout in Waltham for that matter. Heck, I never even made it past the 495 exit on the Mass Pike in Hopkinton. About 50 minutes after I published my last post and hit the highway, I ended up back in Worcester, at the Emergency Room of St. Vincent's Hospital, where my world was flipped upside down.

I'd rather I was there because my car had flipped upside down, but no, I didn't get in an accident. That I could have lived with, even if it killed me.

What transpired in the minutes after I parked my car and found my family is a scary scene I'm having trouble trying to close the curtains on, and one that I'm still having a hard time believing happened altogether.

"They...think...she's...dead...Mario," my brother Matt finally choked out in the hallway outside of the waiting room. Opening the door to that waiting room to see my usually stoic Dad sobbing hysterically made this surreal nightmare a morbid reality.

She - Shirley Marie Kirwin Fraioli - Mom to me, my brother and two sisters, husband of 27 years to my Dad, daughter of 50 years to my Papa Billy, sister to her seven siblings, Auntie Shirley to her dozens of nieces and nephews and Shirl to a countless many friends, had passed away unexpectedly at home about an hour earlier. She was 50 years too young.

It's hard to believe all of this transpired in the last 36 hours, and as I said before it's hard to believe that any of this has happened at all. Mom's sudden death is a shock to all of us and a day later it still just doesn't seem real, but the fact of the matter is it's a shocking reality, not just the bad dream we're all hoping to wake up from tomorrow morning.

As a family, I hesitate to say we're doing OK, but we're doing the best we can right now. The Fraioli Family and the Kirwin Klan are a tight-knit bunch, and together we're gonna get through this - we always do. Plus, we've had a little help from our fantastic friends, and as I and the rest of my family have come to find out in the last day or so, there are many of them. To all of you out there, your support means a lot, just as my Mom means a lot to all of us.

So keep my Mom in your thoughts and prayers, and be sure tell your own Mom, Dad, or whoever it may be that you love 'em. They'll love you for it, believe me.

I love you, Mom, and already miss you more than I can put into words.

Auntie Shirley, with her other two favorite "kids", Sean & Alicia.