Here's a link to the CBC-TV video. Please enjoy it at my expense.
Showing posts with label Salt Lake City Marathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Salt Lake City Marathon. Show all posts
Monday, May 28, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Salt Lake City Marathon coverage
Here's a good Salt Lake roundup from Park City TV. Zach and I are really trucking at 6 miles. I like how they filmed the clock before they showed us coming through. It was a pretty insane joggling pace at the start, but there was a long downhill section.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Joggler on YouTube at last!
Zach's friend Emily sent along this clip (including her cheering) of me and Zach duking it out in Salt Lake. Note the film crews in golf carts. I'm hoping the golf cart footage makes it look like we're running faster - this video makes it look like we're out for an easy stroll.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Salt Lake City Marathon joggle-off
High drama at high altitude
________________________________
By Michal Kapral
JOGGLING REPORTER
________________________________________
Woo-eee, what a race it was! I mean, really, is there anything in the world more thrilling than an epic showdown between the world's top two marathon jogglers? Not in this reporter's unbiased opinion.
When Zach and I agreed to race each other in the Salt Lake City Marathon, each juggling three beanbags every step of the way, I knew we'd be in for a good match-up; I just didn't know how much of a true mental and physical battle this joggle-off would be.
Zach Warren of West Virginia is a joggling force to behold. When I first set the world record of 3 hours 7 minutes and 44 seconds for the "fastest marathon while juggling three objects" in 2005, he made quick work of it, running a 3:07:05 just two months later.
We both faced off in our first marathon joggling duel at last year's famed Boston Marathon, where Zach pummeled me in the Newton Hills and blasted to a new world record time of 2:58:23, as I stumbled in for a 3:06:45.
I knew 2:58 was within my grasp, so I made some adjustments to my training (namely, more joggling mileage) and got a hold of some lighter beanbags and reclaimed the world record at the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon last September, joggling home in 2:57:44. But Zach stunned the joggling world again in Philly with a 2:52:15, and the stage was set for a joggling marathon rematch in Salt Lake City.
Salt Lake was a great venue for several reasons: Neither of us would be on "hometown turf" (although Zach would be in his home country), I had run the course as a pacer and knew it was both fast and scenic, the roads were nice and wide – good for joggling elbow room – and the race director was very supportive. There were some concerns about the altitude, but we decided to go ahead with it.
Race day on Saturday, April 21, produced picture-perfect conditions for a joggler: partly cloudy, about 7C and no wind. When I arrived at the start at 6:15 a.m. I met up with the CBC TV crew, who would be filming the event with a golf cart, and the Chump Change Productions documentary film crew, who had two golf carts. I gave a spare Sport Juggling Co. "JOGGLER" beanbag to one of the doc guys in case one of us lost one.
Zach showed up sometime after 6:30 and we both did some juggling to calm our nerves and to warm up. I joggled around a bit and got some applause from some of the 7,000 runners lined up at the start. After a final gulp of Gatorade, Zach and I made our way to the elite entry at the front. I got major butterflies in my stomach as I gazed ahead at the winding road ahead, and the beautiful mountain peaks beyond.
The starting horn blasted at 7 a.m. and we were off. Toss, toss, toss, toss, toss, toss – a clean beginning for both of us. Relief. The first mile was downhill and we hit the mark in 5:45. The race continued on a downgrade until mile 5 and Zach and I stayed elbow-to-elbow on a very quick pace.
A few miles into the race, Zach had the first drop. As the inferior juggler, this gave me a little twinge of satisfaction and I couldn't hold back a grin.
After the fifth mile we wound through a gorgeous park. The air was fresh and crisp, but Zach and I were both feeling the altitude. My lungs were tight and I couldn't seem to to get enough oxygen into me no matter how deep a breath I took. Nevertheless, we were flying.
Zach pushed the pace through the uphill section from miles five to 12, and around the 12-mile mark we bumped into each other where there was a fork in the road. Zach veered right, thinking the course went that way, while I kept going straight, which turned out to be the right direction. Our little collision resulted in my first drop of the race, and also left me in Zach's wake. I didn't want to burn myself out trying to catch him as he was still pushing a zippy pace.
On a long climb uphill, Zach continued to gain on me. I was gasping for air at the top of the hill and it looked like Zach had about 30 seconds on me. My legs were starting to ache already and it wasn't even halfway. I seriously considered giving up.
But the marathon being the marathon – a long enough race that you can die, rise to heaven and be born again – I caught a second wind at about mile 15. Zach stopped for water and I cruised past him.
Once I was in the lead, I started to feel really good. My confidence was back, my legs felt fresh again and my breathing steadied. It was just me, the open road and three stinky golf carts and camera crews.
Over the next few miles, spectators were saying, "Go juggler!" in the singular, so I knew I had a decent lead on Zach. He later told me it was about 40 seconds. I eased off a bit from 6:20 per mile to 6:30 to stay on 2:50 marathon pace, knowing the real race would start at 20 miles.
Zach caught back up to me when I made my first pit stop of the race – for Gatorade – at about 19 miles. I was actually really happy to see him as it meant I would have someone to run with. A couple of times I tucked in behind him to draft, because a bit of a wind had picked up. We stayed neck-and-neck for the next three miles, neither of us saying much. We were both starting to get seriously frazzled and our pace was slowing down.
As we approached mile 22, Zach started babbling to me about needing to stop for water and I knew this was my chance to make a break. At the next aid station, Zach pulled aside like an F1 driver desperately needing a top-up and I zoomed on.
For some reason, I started bobbing my head around like Paula Radcliffe and found that it helped me keep in a trance; the head-bobbing made me forgot the agony in my shoulders and legs and I surged for the next two miles. My body was full of endorphins and the world record was still within my grasp.
By mile 24, the endorphins were exhausted and so was The Joggler. The real world began to recede and everything started to go blurry. My arms were juggling and my legs were running but I wasn't even paying attention to them. All I could think about was the pain and the urge to just stop, toss my beanbags into the nearest ditch and sit down at the side of the road for a good long cry.
And so it was that after 24 miles of intense joggling, I skidded abruptly to a halt in the middle of a wide, empty road. I heard the squeal of the golf carts' breaks. I needed a break. I needed to rest my arms and catch my breath. And I needed to think about how to do this, how to go on.
What propels a marathon joggler to carry on through those final miles of agony? It's the fear of being in limbo. Stopping before the finish line doesn't give you any closure. There's nowhere to go. You're in the middle of a road. You're nowhere. You're nothing. You can't just give up when you're nowhere and nothing. Moving forward is the only way to be somewhere and something.
After a deep, oxygen-deprived breath, I began juggling. Right toss, left toss, right toss, left. Now the legs, right foot, left foot, right foot, left. I started to recite "The Foot Book" by Dr. Seuss, which I had been reading to Annika at bedtime recently:
Up feet, down feet,
Here come clown feet
Small feet, big feet,
Here come pig feet
Everything remained a blur, but I was moving forward and that was the important thing. I concentrated on not passing out. The spectators became more numerous in the final mile and their cheering helped. With one mile to go, I knew the record was out of reach. I needed to run a sub-6:00 mile. No way. I was in survival mode.
Dianne, the kids and our friend Annette were screaming my name at this point but I didn't even remember. I thought I heard them but my brain wasn't able to make the right connections. And I ran. And I juggled.
I had another drop – my third, I think – sometime after mile 25. I remembered saying out loud, "Let's do this!" before I set out for the finish. As the road narrowed into the fantastic finale in downtown Salt Lake, when I knew I would miss the record, I did a few high tosses for the crowd and missed a ball for my fourth drop of the marathon. About 35,000 catches and four drops – not bad.
A quick sprint to the end brought me in at 2 hours, 53 minutes and 28 seconds – a personal best, the best I could have done, but one minute and 13 seconds shy of the record that I so desperately wanted.
For a fraction of a second when I crossed the line, I didn't know whether to smash the balls down on ground in frustration or to celebrate a race well raced and a joggling battle well won. But a final high toss and a low catch left me jubilant. I won. I raced it as I would have the Olympic marathon. I joggled my heart and lungs and arms and legs out.
Just over 3 1/2 minutes later, Zach came across the line, looking probably much the same way I did when I finished: like burnt toast. I read later that the famous juggler Steven Ragatz talked to Zach after the finish and asked him how he felt. Zach told him it was "like he had just drunk 10 cheap beers," at which point Steven told him he should have just stuck to drinking the beer and taken a pass on the whole marathon running thing.
Steven's words gave me a good laugh, but I wouldn't have traded this joggling battle for anything. I've been following marathon running races for almost a decade now and I think this was one of the most exciting duels there has ever been in the history of marathon racing ... in this reporter's unbiased opinion.
________________________________
By Michal Kapral
JOGGLING REPORTER
________________________________________
Woo-eee, what a race it was! I mean, really, is there anything in the world more thrilling than an epic showdown between the world's top two marathon jogglers? Not in this reporter's unbiased opinion.
When Zach and I agreed to race each other in the Salt Lake City Marathon, each juggling three beanbags every step of the way, I knew we'd be in for a good match-up; I just didn't know how much of a true mental and physical battle this joggle-off would be.
Zach Warren of West Virginia is a joggling force to behold. When I first set the world record of 3 hours 7 minutes and 44 seconds for the "fastest marathon while juggling three objects" in 2005, he made quick work of it, running a 3:07:05 just two months later.
We both faced off in our first marathon joggling duel at last year's famed Boston Marathon, where Zach pummeled me in the Newton Hills and blasted to a new world record time of 2:58:23, as I stumbled in for a 3:06:45.
I knew 2:58 was within my grasp, so I made some adjustments to my training (namely, more joggling mileage) and got a hold of some lighter beanbags and reclaimed the world record at the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon last September, joggling home in 2:57:44. But Zach stunned the joggling world again in Philly with a 2:52:15, and the stage was set for a joggling marathon rematch in Salt Lake City.
Salt Lake was a great venue for several reasons: Neither of us would be on "hometown turf" (although Zach would be in his home country), I had run the course as a pacer and knew it was both fast and scenic, the roads were nice and wide – good for joggling elbow room – and the race director was very supportive. There were some concerns about the altitude, but we decided to go ahead with it.
Race day on Saturday, April 21, produced picture-perfect conditions for a joggler: partly cloudy, about 7C and no wind. When I arrived at the start at 6:15 a.m. I met up with the CBC TV crew, who would be filming the event with a golf cart, and the Chump Change Productions documentary film crew, who had two golf carts. I gave a spare Sport Juggling Co. "JOGGLER" beanbag to one of the doc guys in case one of us lost one.
Zach showed up sometime after 6:30 and we both did some juggling to calm our nerves and to warm up. I joggled around a bit and got some applause from some of the 7,000 runners lined up at the start. After a final gulp of Gatorade, Zach and I made our way to the elite entry at the front. I got major butterflies in my stomach as I gazed ahead at the winding road ahead, and the beautiful mountain peaks beyond.
The starting horn blasted at 7 a.m. and we were off. Toss, toss, toss, toss, toss, toss – a clean beginning for both of us. Relief. The first mile was downhill and we hit the mark in 5:45. The race continued on a downgrade until mile 5 and Zach and I stayed elbow-to-elbow on a very quick pace.
A few miles into the race, Zach had the first drop. As the inferior juggler, this gave me a little twinge of satisfaction and I couldn't hold back a grin.
After the fifth mile we wound through a gorgeous park. The air was fresh and crisp, but Zach and I were both feeling the altitude. My lungs were tight and I couldn't seem to to get enough oxygen into me no matter how deep a breath I took. Nevertheless, we were flying.
Zach pushed the pace through the uphill section from miles five to 12, and around the 12-mile mark we bumped into each other where there was a fork in the road. Zach veered right, thinking the course went that way, while I kept going straight, which turned out to be the right direction. Our little collision resulted in my first drop of the race, and also left me in Zach's wake. I didn't want to burn myself out trying to catch him as he was still pushing a zippy pace.
On a long climb uphill, Zach continued to gain on me. I was gasping for air at the top of the hill and it looked like Zach had about 30 seconds on me. My legs were starting to ache already and it wasn't even halfway. I seriously considered giving up.
But the marathon being the marathon – a long enough race that you can die, rise to heaven and be born again – I caught a second wind at about mile 15. Zach stopped for water and I cruised past him.
Once I was in the lead, I started to feel really good. My confidence was back, my legs felt fresh again and my breathing steadied. It was just me, the open road and three stinky golf carts and camera crews.
Over the next few miles, spectators were saying, "Go juggler!" in the singular, so I knew I had a decent lead on Zach. He later told me it was about 40 seconds. I eased off a bit from 6:20 per mile to 6:30 to stay on 2:50 marathon pace, knowing the real race would start at 20 miles.
Zach caught back up to me when I made my first pit stop of the race – for Gatorade – at about 19 miles. I was actually really happy to see him as it meant I would have someone to run with. A couple of times I tucked in behind him to draft, because a bit of a wind had picked up. We stayed neck-and-neck for the next three miles, neither of us saying much. We were both starting to get seriously frazzled and our pace was slowing down.
As we approached mile 22, Zach started babbling to me about needing to stop for water and I knew this was my chance to make a break. At the next aid station, Zach pulled aside like an F1 driver desperately needing a top-up and I zoomed on.
For some reason, I started bobbing my head around like Paula Radcliffe and found that it helped me keep in a trance; the head-bobbing made me forgot the agony in my shoulders and legs and I surged for the next two miles. My body was full of endorphins and the world record was still within my grasp.
By mile 24, the endorphins were exhausted and so was The Joggler. The real world began to recede and everything started to go blurry. My arms were juggling and my legs were running but I wasn't even paying attention to them. All I could think about was the pain and the urge to just stop, toss my beanbags into the nearest ditch and sit down at the side of the road for a good long cry.
And so it was that after 24 miles of intense joggling, I skidded abruptly to a halt in the middle of a wide, empty road. I heard the squeal of the golf carts' breaks. I needed a break. I needed to rest my arms and catch my breath. And I needed to think about how to do this, how to go on.
What propels a marathon joggler to carry on through those final miles of agony? It's the fear of being in limbo. Stopping before the finish line doesn't give you any closure. There's nowhere to go. You're in the middle of a road. You're nowhere. You're nothing. You can't just give up when you're nowhere and nothing. Moving forward is the only way to be somewhere and something.
After a deep, oxygen-deprived breath, I began juggling. Right toss, left toss, right toss, left. Now the legs, right foot, left foot, right foot, left. I started to recite "The Foot Book" by Dr. Seuss, which I had been reading to Annika at bedtime recently:
Up feet, down feet,
Here come clown feet
Small feet, big feet,
Here come pig feet
Everything remained a blur, but I was moving forward and that was the important thing. I concentrated on not passing out. The spectators became more numerous in the final mile and their cheering helped. With one mile to go, I knew the record was out of reach. I needed to run a sub-6:00 mile. No way. I was in survival mode.
Dianne, the kids and our friend Annette were screaming my name at this point but I didn't even remember. I thought I heard them but my brain wasn't able to make the right connections. And I ran. And I juggled.
I had another drop – my third, I think – sometime after mile 25. I remembered saying out loud, "Let's do this!" before I set out for the finish. As the road narrowed into the fantastic finale in downtown Salt Lake, when I knew I would miss the record, I did a few high tosses for the crowd and missed a ball for my fourth drop of the marathon. About 35,000 catches and four drops – not bad.
A quick sprint to the end brought me in at 2 hours, 53 minutes and 28 seconds – a personal best, the best I could have done, but one minute and 13 seconds shy of the record that I so desperately wanted.
For a fraction of a second when I crossed the line, I didn't know whether to smash the balls down on ground in frustration or to celebrate a race well raced and a joggling battle well won. But a final high toss and a low catch left me jubilant. I won. I raced it as I would have the Olympic marathon. I joggled my heart and lungs and arms and legs out.
Just over 3 1/2 minutes later, Zach came across the line, looking probably much the same way I did when I finished: like burnt toast. I read later that the famous juggler Steven Ragatz talked to Zach after the finish and asked him how he felt. Zach told him it was "like he had just drunk 10 cheap beers," at which point Steven told him he should have just stuck to drinking the beer and taken a pass on the whole marathon running thing.
Steven's words gave me a good laugh, but I wouldn't have traded this joggling battle for anything. I've been following marathon running races for almost a decade now and I think this was one of the most exciting duels there has ever been in the history of marathon racing ... in this reporter's unbiased opinion.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Three days to go ... aaaah!
Three days away from the marathon. Questions on my mind:
1. Will this be my last joggling marathon?
2. Will I sleep in on marathon morning and miss the start of the race?
3. How much does 1,300 metres of altitude affect a joggling marathon record attempt?
4. Will I finally beat Zach in a head-to-head joggling duel?
5. Will I drop a ball at the start of the race?
6. Will I do something embarrassing that will be immortalized in a documentary film and on national Canadian TV?
7. Is marathon joggling inherently embarrassing or heroic?
1. Will this be my last joggling marathon?
2. Will I sleep in on marathon morning and miss the start of the race?
3. How much does 1,300 metres of altitude affect a joggling marathon record attempt?
4. Will I finally beat Zach in a head-to-head joggling duel?
5. Will I drop a ball at the start of the race?
6. Will I do something embarrassing that will be immortalized in a documentary film and on national Canadian TV?
7. Is marathon joggling inherently embarrassing or heroic?
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Four days to go
Today's joggling plan: 6 miles home from work (4 miles at marathon pace)
Yesterday I did an interview with the Salt Lake Tribune. The story should be appearing in Friday's paper. The reporter also interviewed Zach and the race director, Scott Kerr.
Conditions for race day look excellent for a record-breaking joggle: High of 10C, cloudy, 30% chance of showers.
Things should be interesting on the race course. The documentary film crew will have two golf carts covering the joggle-off, and CBC TV is planning to use a motorcycle.
Here's the race video from last year's Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. The Joggler makes two appearances at 2:48 and 0:37.
Yesterday I did an interview with the Salt Lake Tribune. The story should be appearing in Friday's paper. The reporter also interviewed Zach and the race director, Scott Kerr.
Conditions for race day look excellent for a record-breaking joggle: High of 10C, cloudy, 30% chance of showers.
Things should be interesting on the race course. The documentary film crew will have two golf carts covering the joggle-off, and CBC TV is planning to use a motorcycle.
Here's the race video from last year's Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. The Joggler makes two appearances at 2:48 and 0:37.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Friday ... feeling good
It's Friday and I'm feeling fine.
Benjamin, the documentary filmmaker from Chump Change Productions, is going to be shooting some footage of me joggling home through downtown Toronto.
Check out the joggling duel poster (above) that Perry Romanowski put together. Classic!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Joggling in record-breaking documentary
Today's joggling plan: rest (5-ball juggling practice, no running)The Joggler will appear alongside other record-holders, including a guy who rips phone books in half and a human cannonball, in an upcoming documentary called "Breaking and Entering".
The crew will be filming me and Zach in our duel at the Salt Lake City Marathon next month (next month, whoa!).
Follow this link for the movie trailer.
Friday, March 9, 2007
"Holy...!" "Oh my...!" "What the...!?"
Yesterday's joggling mileage: 10 milesIt's all about the speed. Last night's 10-mile joggling extravaganza included 6 x 1 mile speed intervals with two minutes of jogging (joggle jogging?) in between each. I got a rush out of blasting past pedestrians and hearing little snippets of exclamations, like "No waaay!" "Cool!" "You rock!" "That guy's...!" "Holy...!" "Oh my...!" and "What the...!?"
You may be wondering why I log my distances in miles rather than kilometres, given that I live in the metric nation of Canada. (You may also be wondering why I spend such a significant chunk of my life trying to set obscure Guinness World Records, but that's another issue that I'm still trying to resolve in my own mind.)
The main reason for using miles is that joggling 10 miles seems much more manageable to me than 16 km. Kilometres simply psyche me out. Joggling is quite bit harder than running, so I'd rather have larger units of measurement. A 20-mile long joggle – piece of cake. A 36-km joggle – forget it, too many units.
The other logic of measuring in miles is that four laps around a standard outdoor track equal one mile (or just shy of a mile, if you want to get technical), so it makes things easier to calculate in terms of track workouts. Even when I'm doing intervals on the road, I usually think in terms of half-mile, one-mile and two-mile intervals.
And finally, the Salt Lake City Marathon is in the U.S. – that stubborn non-metric holdout – so I might as well get used to setting my pace in miles. I remember the first time I ran the Boston Marathon after training in kilometres, having no clue whether of not I was on pace. I recall crossing the 10-mile marker, looking at the clock thinking: "I have no idea what that means." What it meant, I would discover much later, was that I was running way too fast, and would end up completing the historic road race looking like a very sick, inebriated geriatric.
The main reason for using miles is that joggling 10 miles seems much more manageable to me than 16 km. Kilometres simply psyche me out. Joggling is quite bit harder than running, so I'd rather have larger units of measurement. A 20-mile long joggle – piece of cake. A 36-km joggle – forget it, too many units.
The other logic of measuring in miles is that four laps around a standard outdoor track equal one mile (or just shy of a mile, if you want to get technical), so it makes things easier to calculate in terms of track workouts. Even when I'm doing intervals on the road, I usually think in terms of half-mile, one-mile and two-mile intervals.
And finally, the Salt Lake City Marathon is in the U.S. – that stubborn non-metric holdout – so I might as well get used to setting my pace in miles. I remember the first time I ran the Boston Marathon after training in kilometres, having no clue whether of not I was on pace. I recall crossing the 10-mile marker, looking at the clock thinking: "I have no idea what that means." What it meant, I would discover much later, was that I was running way too fast, and would end up completing the historic road race looking like a very sick, inebriated geriatric.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Joggling – from the ridiculous to the sublime
Yesterday's joggling mileage: 10 miles total (in two parts)
I'm one of the first people to admit that joggling is a pretty hilarious sport – and that's one of the reasons that I do it. It makes people point and elicits exclamations of incredulity; it makes people howl with laughter; it even once made a girl yell "I LOVE YOU!" with no discernible hint of facetiousness.
But today I'm going to set the record straight: joggling, while funny, is no more propostrous that many other sports out there.
There are, of course, easy targets. Curling, a sport with an inexplicably huge following in Canada, features players who scream viciously at teammates who frantically sweep the ice in a more-or-less futile attempt to affect the trajectory of a sliding rock.
Another totally bizarre winter sport is nordic combined, where contestants compete in both cross-country skiing and ski jumping. I don't care what kind of Norwegian military history is behind this sport – it gets a 9.5 out of 10 on the ridiculous scale, and its top competitors can win Olympics medals.
But in my opinion, even the most mainstream of pro sports would appear pretty dumb to an alien visitor who had no prejudices. As a non-golfer, it never ceases to amuse me how seriously people take this game (I don't consider it a sport, but that's a whole different discussion for another post). All the obscene wads of money poured into it and the incredible skill of its top players can't hide the fact that it's a bunch of grown men and women wearing geeky shirts and using glorified sticks to smack a little sphere around until it plops into a small hole.
So my point is this: Joggling looks funny because it's unconventional and unexpected, but that doesn't make it any less of a sport. Don't expect me to be smiling and laughing the whole time during a race, because it's hard work. Tiger Woods gets to look all serious while he tries to pitch himself out of a sandtrap, and I'll probably have some major concentration lines on my face in the final miles of the Salt Lake City Marathon. You can laugh at joggling – in fact, please do – but that doesn't mean it's not a serious sport.
I'm one of the first people to admit that joggling is a pretty hilarious sport – and that's one of the reasons that I do it. It makes people point and elicits exclamations of incredulity; it makes people howl with laughter; it even once made a girl yell "I LOVE YOU!" with no discernible hint of facetiousness.
But today I'm going to set the record straight: joggling, while funny, is no more propostrous that many other sports out there.
There are, of course, easy targets. Curling, a sport with an inexplicably huge following in Canada, features players who scream viciously at teammates who frantically sweep the ice in a more-or-less futile attempt to affect the trajectory of a sliding rock.
Another totally bizarre winter sport is nordic combined, where contestants compete in both cross-country skiing and ski jumping. I don't care what kind of Norwegian military history is behind this sport – it gets a 9.5 out of 10 on the ridiculous scale, and its top competitors can win Olympics medals.
But in my opinion, even the most mainstream of pro sports would appear pretty dumb to an alien visitor who had no prejudices. As a non-golfer, it never ceases to amuse me how seriously people take this game (I don't consider it a sport, but that's a whole different discussion for another post). All the obscene wads of money poured into it and the incredible skill of its top players can't hide the fact that it's a bunch of grown men and women wearing geeky shirts and using glorified sticks to smack a little sphere around until it plops into a small hole.
So my point is this: Joggling looks funny because it's unconventional and unexpected, but that doesn't make it any less of a sport. Don't expect me to be smiling and laughing the whole time during a race, because it's hard work. Tiger Woods gets to look all serious while he tries to pitch himself out of a sandtrap, and I'll probably have some major concentration lines on my face in the final miles of the Salt Lake City Marathon. You can laugh at joggling – in fact, please do – but that doesn't mean it's not a serious sport.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The Joggler's bloggling debut
Welcome to the drama, the pain, the heartaches, the headaches, the insanity and the joy that is joggling. This blog will track my journey as I attempt to reclaim the Guinness World Record for "fastest marathon (26.2 miles) while juggling three objects," and any future joggling feats.
On April 21 at the Salt Lake City Marathon, I'll be facing off against my great joggling nemesis (and friend) Zach Warren of West Virginia in the world's second-ever marathon joggling duel. The first battle took place at last year's Boston Marathon, featuring – you guessed it – Zach and me. Zach beat me in a world-record time of 2 hours, 58 minutes. Five months later, I reclaimed the marathon joggling title in my hometown, at the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon, shaving a minute off the record with a 2:57. Then, just six weeks later, Zach joggled an astounding 2:52 at the Philadelphia Marathon. That's the time to beat.
So the race in on, and the venue is set for the next joggle-off. Come along for the ride as I joggle for Guinness glory.
On April 21 at the Salt Lake City Marathon, I'll be facing off against my great joggling nemesis (and friend) Zach Warren of West Virginia in the world's second-ever marathon joggling duel. The first battle took place at last year's Boston Marathon, featuring – you guessed it – Zach and me. Zach beat me in a world-record time of 2 hours, 58 minutes. Five months later, I reclaimed the marathon joggling title in my hometown, at the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon, shaving a minute off the record with a 2:57. Then, just six weeks later, Zach joggled an astounding 2:52 at the Philadelphia Marathon. That's the time to beat.
So the race in on, and the venue is set for the next joggle-off. Come along for the ride as I joggle for Guinness glory.
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