Man Vs Machine

I am.. a.. competitive person. I always close the gap with people running in front of me and ensure no one passes (thought there'd be a Lord of the Rings link? www.google.com, "Videos", "you shall not pass", it's all you). But there are only so many people running in Boston. How is a highly motivated, highly dedicated, lean mean running machine supposed to get that extra drive throughout his run? Take on another machine baby!

When I was running 5-6 milers at a 8-8:30 pace, I challenged myself by racing against the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority, AKA the T. The notoriously slow Green Line is a trolley that runs above ground west of Fenway. The B Line of the Green runs on Commonwealth Avenue (Comm Av) between Boston University (read: hipster) and Boston College (read: preppy). It's about a three mile run with some great hills if you're on the
right, ahem, correct side of the road.

Ready for that real life algebra question your math teachers warned about? NO? Ok, go watch the link at the top a few more times. Everyone else, continue. The T goes ~20mph on its own, which you, as a non-professional athlete can't keep up with. However, the T stops for passengers and lights about every 200 to 400 meters (1/8 to 1/4 miles). Variables include:

-how many red lights the T catches, which last about 120 seconds each (120a), 
-how many people want to get on/get off, which average ~4 seconds each (4b),
-how many stops the T makes to pick up people (4b x c),
-if a cigarette is waiting for the T driver at the end of the route, it will automatically half the time of travel. 
Time = Rate / (Distance + 120a + 4b x c) / 2 = Who cares just go run it.


If you're a speed demon, try it at 11PM on a Monday against the express. Still working on breaking the 9 minute mile? 830AM on Wednesday between September and April, you got it. Just tell your boss that your job is not as important as racing against public transportation. Or just tell him a blog told you to do it. He'll understand. Finally, if you have no arms or legs and can't run, walk, or crawl, try it before a Red Sox home game, it will be close. 

The first time I beat the T, I started by looking the T driver (conductor?) straight in the eyes as if to say, "Put the pedal to the metal big dog. U can't touch this." And off we went. We passed each other a couple of times. He knew who I was and he knew what I was doing. But he never looked over again until I hit the last stop and nearly collapsed, hands on knees, heaving deep breaths, slightly smirking with wide eyes like a psycho. He pulled up next to me at the Blandford stop and our eyes met again. He took another sip from his Qdoba big gulp and exhaustedly turned back toward the windshield as if to say, "People are weird. I need a cigarette."

Tip du jour: Figure out what motivates you. Competition? Success? Attention? Build some exercises around it. You'll have a blast.

Beat the T,

LSF