Purple Jelly Beans

I have a bowl of delicious jelly beans. I like jelly beans. They make me feel happy when I eat them. Not heroin in the eye balls happy but, you know, regular average-dude-with-too-much-credit-debt-working-a-dead-end-job happy. That is to say, sullen punctuated by brief periods of complacency. I blindly rummage through the bowl and enjoy an orange one or black one. Hell, even the pinks are okay. I’m secure enough to admit it. I won’t be composing lengthy sonnets or holding boom boxes up outside the jelly bean manufacturer’s door any time soon but I’d consider sending an inexpensive Thank You card or, at the very least, include an homage to them at the top of a blog post.

The point is I really like jelly beans. Except the purple ones. What the fuck is up with those? Seriously, talk about ruining a perfectly good assortment of jellied candy. What exactly is that flavor? Chalk? The hardened physical manifestation of the ennui of disappointed runners?

But that’s what you get with a mixed bowl: Mixed results.

And, finally, three confusing paragraphs in, we get to the point of today’s post: A review of my much ballyhooed 2010 Year of the Ass Kicker. You’ll recall that 2010 was going to be the pinnacle of my running career. I planned to stand on a mountain of defeated PR’s and pound my chest skyward in an open blasphemous, triumphant challenge to whatever spiritual being to which you subscribe. If I graphed my running speed, this would be the year at the top of the ascending line immediately before the sharp downward turn (see: economy, 2001). Starting in 2011, I planned to – get this – run FOR FUN. Crazy, I know. Maybe I had injected some of that heroin in the eyeballs when I wrote that post.

As with all things connected to F.M.S., the pomp and bluster with which it was presented did not meet the reality. In short, my 2010 Y.A.K. plans deflated like air rushing from a balloon with one of those comedic squeaky noises and ending with a flatulence-resembling rumble. Or, cue sad trombone, whatever your preferred sound effect.

The 2010 Y.A.K. had some successes...but more purple jelly beans than expected.

In summary, I had vowed to:

-Refine my training by adding a day of running each week and organizing my speed work. (Partial credit: I ran a bit more sporadically but did get some structure in my speed work.)
-Set a new marathon PR. Run more miles during training. (Partial credit: Missed my PR by 38 seconds due to poor pacing in the last 10 miles. Did run more miles though.)
-Break 18 minutes in the 5k. (No credit: Training indicated it was possible but...PURPLE BEANS!)
-Sign up for an ultra marathon. (Nope.)
-Race more. (Nope.)
-Sign up for a team relay. (Credit!)
-Don’t give in to easy excuses to miss a run. (Credit! Barely missed any scheduled runs this year so far.)
-Approach the puke threshold frequently. (Credit! This summer, I was on the edge frequently.)


My half-marathon PR and generally successful interval training were delicious orange and red jelly beans. I ran more miles this year (already!) than any previous year (mmmm, black beans.) I enjoyed Life on the Puke Threshold. But I paced too conservatively in the second half of the marathon and ended with a mouthful of purple. And those 5k’? More purple beans. More ennui.

It seems that my running this year can be summed up by continuing the tiresome analogy: In training, I enjoyed the varied jelly delights with lip smacking joy. In races, I mostly consumed purple.

If you are thinking that this sounds awfully like a year in review – in early November – you’re right. I probably won’t race again before the end of the year. My jelly beans are in the barn. And, more importantly, I beat everyone else’s yearly review before it became cliché. First! Stay tuned for my 2011 goals post which will undoubtedly be better than yours. Or, at the very least, FIRST!

Now, off to see how the purple jelly beans feel when injected directly into the eye balls. They didn’t feel too good when kicking me in the nuts.

Happy trails.