Spring Guide 2007: Bands on the Run

Got music? Sneakers? Who could ask for anything more?

It's known as a shin splint: the stab of pain that starts in the arch of the foot and shoots up directly toward the knees, turning every step into pure agony.

Then there's tendonitis, which can swell the little sweet spots, diminutive slopes and otherwise unnoticeable details of the foot into the size of a baked potato.

It isn't a party for the toes either. The repetitive pounding and increased blood flow to the feet make for unhappy piggies. First they're raw, then the tender flesh under the nail changes color from fleshy pink to a rosé and finally to a deep cabernet before it loosens,

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bleeds and, in a matter of days, the toenail breaks off like an early autumn cherry blossom.

Sweat turns acrylic running shirts into sandpaper, rubbing the nipples raw until they too bleed from all the commotion.

Still, springtime is the opening bell for long-distance running, worth every ounce of pain it can deliver.

As a sophomore at Morehead Junior High (real name, no joke), the thought of running in PE class was such a source of anguish, I had a punch card from the nurse's office. The thought of running a mile and a half for a grade was not only conceptually stupid, but patently dangerous. I was considered to be a "healthy" 13-year-old. My 5-foot-10-inch frame carrying a 180-pound payload not only made the football coaches lather their chops, but teachers generally avoided eye contact with me and were very agreeable with my half-baked readings of great literature. Only later did I realize that

Robinson Crusoe

is not about land speculation and resort developments in the Bahamas.

High school wasn't notably different except that my hormones were at complete attention, like a Spanish armada spotting land after months at sea. Sports were king at my school, but I had discovered Joy Division and Ministry by sophomore year, so all hope for general assimilation into the athletic gene pool was gone. It didn't help that my older brother had been a kind of sports celebrity. I stepped into an environment that expected me to jump on the same knuckle-dragging party boat, which only made it more satisfying to repel. There was, however, the issue of girls. I was an oafish, biscuit-eating hesher when I got to high school, and the last time I checked girls don't exactly swoon for fat guys with kinky Afros, wearing steel-toe work boots, sporting revolting cocks T-shirts and responding to questions by quoting Arthur Rimbaud. Something had to be done.

I gravitated toward running through my love of music. Running harnessed the jolt I received from the aggressive music I preferred and, above all, it didn't require a team. So I bought a pair of running shoes and with my Walkman in tow and Slayer's

Reign in Blood

tucked safely inside the player, I visited the same junior high baseball field that had disgusted me so much two years earlier and began the unthinkable: I started running laps with no other motivation than to quell the overwhelming desire to have a girlfriend. Half a lap later I stopped, heaved my lunch and lit a Marlboro Red while I waited for my eyesight to return, but within my delirium I remained determined. Eventually, the half-lap/cigarette routine evolved into full lap/no cigarette cycle, and kept growing until six laps meant I was warmed up enough to run 12 more. And yes, the weight came off and there is a story about a girl, but she has long since left the picture and only the running remains.

My motivation for running no longer involves girls; it has to do with the ability to run a 10k race in under 40 minutes. So this spring when the days get longer and the freshmen foliage has replaced the ghosts of snowdrifts, it will be time to race once again and open the door to the ritualized training regiment, restrictive diet, the welcoming of exotic pain and the shaping and shedding of the 30-some pounds hugging my midsection, into my 175-pound race weight. But first comes the music, some ass-dropping funk, rock, hip-hop and bubble gum pop for the playlist, before heading back to New Orleans in April for the Crescent City Classic.

I speak from years of building running playlists. The lists typically change and grow throughout my training, but a basic foundation is set to anticipate the peaks and valleys of a long run. I've broken my runs into five pieces: opening stretch, intro, body, conclusion and final stretch. Each has its own importance. Each section should have its own musical personality. So if you're looking for something new to do this spring and have always wanted to introduce both pleasure and pain into your life without placing an add in the Variations section of the want ads, then it's time to find a 10k, half marathon or full marathon race and run like you're being chased.


Ready to run?

Let this annotated running playlist be your guide.

 The opening stretch

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A good run begins and ends with stretching. Set the tone with a string arrangement and ethereal vocals, then add a little groove.

"Humming Chorus": Madame Butterfly

"Pressure Drop": Toots and the Maytals

 The intro

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Slow immersion is key to running, but it's also important to get your game on early. A

strong beat with hard vocals will work in any genre.

"You're Gonna Get Yours": Public Enemy

"She": The Misfits

"Black Sweat": Prince

 The body

Once you find a comfortable pace and stabilize your breath, the key is to find music that keeps the groove going. I find that variety rather than longer compositions or remixes works best because the diversity in sound adds more energy. Plus, adding multiple songs from one artist gives me more energy. This part of the run is purely mental, so feed your head with a totally schizo mix bag of songs.

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"Take Me with U": Prince

"Microphone Fiend": Eric B & Rakim

"Down on the Street": Iggy and the Stooges

"Sew Sew Sew": Big Chief Monk Boudreaux

"Rain": The Cult

"She's Crafty": Beastie Boys

"Fucking Hostile": Pantera

 The conclusion

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It's important to finish strong during a run. Choose one song that will make you go nuts to provide enough energy to sprint throughout the entire thing.

"Rock the Bells": LL Cool J

 The final stretch

Trust me. Flank your runs with strings. They'll help you slow down and focus on the stretch.

"Adagio for Strings": Samuel Baker

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