Reset at 1, Again

     Apparently DC Comics is going to reset the numbering of a lot of its titles to 1. Detecive and Action Comics, Superman and Batman, all reset. They can't go to Zero because they've done that once already. Marvel Comics has done this a few times, then undone it, then done it again, then undone it but added the reset numbers to the originals (so that, say, Avengers #432 never actually happened, because it was Vol. III #4. Head hurt?).
     Obviously, this is a ploy to bring on new fans. Knowing you missed the first 581 episodes of back-story is a little daunting. #1 is a great point to jump on. Back when I used to read comics, I remember being excited to buy such milestones as Detecive Comics 600 or Amazing Spider-Man 400. It felt cool, like touching history, being a part of something that stretched all the way back to the Depression.
     And yet, I can also recall the violent thrill of anticipating in those summers of the early 90s the new (simply) Spider-Man series by Todd MacFarlane, or the new (simply) X-Men series by Jim Lee. Those #1s were something so refreshing in an era of 364s and 509s. Funny enough, it's Lee who masterminded this relaunch, and who is redesgning a lot of the major characters.
    What? Mucking with history? Well, maybe there's something to this. Magazines rarely make a big deal of their issue number. Maybe comics cling too much to their monthly designation. I mean, as I recall, every issue ending in a zero had to have some major event in it. The anticipation of issues 595-599, the hangover of issue 601. Creators must've felt a lot of stress having to provide a major payoff whenever a numerical click was coming. Many of those were hokey (new costumes, new heroes, dead girlfriends). I mean--and I take this with a nostalgic grain of salt looking back with childhood joy on a pretty commercial "art form"--I seem to remember the best stories were often nowhere near these milestone numerals, because the creators had freedom to express themselves when they wanted, in the blissful unconcern of the pages of issue 232.
       Maybe it's a good thing, then. Maybe I appreciate history too much, I'm too protective of the past. Maybe when comics are concerned I'm a (DEAR GOD!) little c conservative. Maybe a fresh start is a good thing.
      . . . . Maybe it doesn't matter. I'm not going to start reading them again, anyway.

My First 21k

            On Sunday I ran my first half marathon. Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those inspiring “look how far I’ve come” stories. More like one of those “gee, I did something pretty cool but really should have a long time ago” stories. I’ve been a serious runner for over a decade, and I’m in much better shape in my early thirties than I was in my early twenties. Recently, say the past two years or so, I’ve been a bit more of a fanatic—I think the tell for this is when you start investing substantial dollars on “equipment” in a sport that really only requires shoes.

            Despite that, at 5’10” and 190lbs means I have almost the exact wrong body time for running, it’s been my chief activity for the past few years. Add to this that years of sports, farming and general thoughtless male stupidity have caused me enough aches and pains that 21 kilometres can be seen as a much greater risk for injury than the 5 to 15 I usually do a few times per week.

            I didn’t go in timid, though, I went in confident. Thought I’d share some thoughts about the experience of running the Calgary Half Marathon while fresh:

-I usually run at night. I don’t like doing it in the morning before work because I always feel the stress of time; I like to have an open end. The gun for the marathon was at 7am, which means I was up at four to get to the city in time to be there for a good warm up. Ugh.

-I had some nerves, sure. I mean, the only time I had run this distance before (while timed—I’d done it lots over greater lengths of time), I’d done it at a fair pace of 5m45s/km, on my own, and the last three kilometres I’d found a tremendous struggle. My hoped time for the race was 2h5m, but I was very concerned about exhaustion at the end. I should point out that on long runs I’m a chronic under-hydrater. But a full time moniker-maker-upper . . .

-There were nearly 10,000 people involved Sunday, running or walking 5k, 10k, 21k, or the masochists on the 42k. Like I said, I normally run alone—though I’d come in with some friends who are members of a running group in town. The initial 3k after the gun was just about threading through the crowds, jockeying for position, and not trying to be too rude as you passed people. Oh, and trying to find the damn pace bunny. More on that in a bit. The mass of people clogging the route had me pretty dejected at first, but that wore off as people started to hit strides or lose steam.

-I run to music. Apparently, the purists frown upon this, as in any sport you play it should be work—you shouldn’t be entertained. Whatever. I love running, but for 21k, things can get boring and I don’t want to just listen to myself breath or people’s feet clumping. With two little kids at home, it’s rare I get two straight hours for my tunes anyway.

-When I run alone, I don’t carry water. This is fine for short distances, but has cost me in anything over 10k. It was the story of my big collapse a month ago when practising this distance. Every 3k along the route, though, there were water and Gatorade stations. What a difference—water really is fuel.

-Running is a no glory sport, but the people of Calgary did their best to support us. People lined the route in places, cheering and holding signs, using noise-makers, and there were bands every once in a while. The whole thing was festive. Everyone on the route was appreciative of the others. I felt guilty for how long it had taken me to race, as I’ve been ready for years. For some people this was a real milestone. I’m not a real fan of Calgary at the best of times, but the city earned my kudos during this marathon.

-I normally practise 10/1s (run ten minutes, briskly walk one), but abandoned this right away. I just didn’t need the breaks. I decided that all I would do was walk twenty seconds at the water tables, ensuring I didn’t spill. I was using my Garmin to check my lap pace every 7k, and discovered I had improved my time on the second seven. I was going too easy. The hydrating made a difference, and this got me thinking.

-I referred to pace bunnies. These are expert runners who wear pink rabbit ears indicating the time they will finish. Follow them, know your pace. My intent at the gun was to keep the 2h bunny in my sights, but I lost him in the throng near the zoo. Then, at about the 14k mark, I passed the 1:55 bunny. Sure now that I was taking things too easy, I pushed myself to increase my per kilometre pace up by 20 seconds for the rest of the race.

-With 3k left to go, Pearl Jam’s “Alive” came over my headphones. Providential.

-I came in with two friends who’ve been doing this for years. One of them is a running addict, whose positive demeanour is inspiring, and he’s a wonderful cheerleader. The other is a pure athlete, one of the greatest I’ve ever met, all the more impressive for his “awe-shucks” approach to running, swimming, biking. They finished about a minute apart in the 1h30 range. When they saw me come in, they shot back to the finish line to congratulate me. This was old hat for them, another race, but they wanted to be part of my “I did it” moment when I crossed. They wanted to share in that, but they were also proud because  . . .

-I’d aimed for 2h5m, and came in at 1:53.10. My best pace of 5:30/k I’d improved to 5:07. It’s not record-breaking, but ahead is always better than behind.

Should have done it years ago. I didn’t need the race, the competition. For me, running is something I like to lose myself in. When I was done, I felt good about myself, but it wasn’t an achievement with finality. It was a start. I regretted that I had waited too long to kick it up, and am already considering how I’ll do this next time—before the snow flies.