new york runner

Calling all artists and writers! 

I’m pulling together a (last-minute) running themed fanzine to raise money for my Boston Marathon charity, Team For Kids! TFK supports New York Road Runners Youth Programs, which provide running and fitness programs and equipment to kids across the United States. 

Signups are open NOW!

This zine will be digital only.

I’m expecting that most art/fic will be from sports anime (based on the circles I /run in/), but any fandom is ok!

Final drafts will be due March 12th.

The zine will go on sale March 19th.


Thank you for everyone’s support so far, I know this is a tight schedule. Unfortunately we do have a fundraising deadline, but I know we can do it! Happy drawing/writing/running!

Sign up here!

How Long Can I Wear This Medal Before It Gets Weird?

I didn’t believe my trainer when she told me I was ready for race day.

For starters, in all of our training, we never ran the 13.1 miles required of a half marathon. Once, I accidentally went too far, and made it to twelve. It completely exhausted me. When I brought the Brooklyn race map home, my 8-year-old son, Leo, looked at it, looked up at me, looked back down and said: “that looks… long.”

I tried to make it seem achievable: I remembered how, when I was a child, we’d calculate distances on a map by using a piece of string, threading it along the twists and turns of a travel route before pulling it taut to measure it against the mileage key. When the string unfurled, the distance always surprised me: it was longer or shorter than I’d imagined, every time.

This, I said to myself, was surely like that. It seemed so impossibly far. But it couldn’t be. Right?

The morning of the race, Leo got up early with me, pacing the kitchen as I ate a bowl of cereal and waited for a sudden rainstorm to pass. Then he gave me one last hug as I headed into the chilly morning on my own.

I tried to remember something that Gretchen Reynolds, the fitness writer for the New York Times, said when we spoke a few weeks ago. “There is something very distinct that happens to most people during a race,” she said. “Adrenaline does get released, all kinds of other hormones get released, that don’t usually happen when you’re just training.” She told me most people set their best times when they’re racing: no one really knows why. (My trainer had said the same thing: I didn’t believe her, either.)

By the time I got to the start, thousands of runners were penned up in front of the Brooklyn Museum. We stretched, and yawned. I found a mom friend I knew from my daughter’s daycare, Beth. Her hometown has an annual 15K, which made distance running seem like something everyone just did; she’s hoping to run the full marathon in 2018. She had no doubts. I was not so sure. As the crowd moved forward, I asked, “Are we starting?!”

For a few moments as we crossed the start line, the sun broke through the clouds. And I realized Reynolds was right: there was something about the race itself, something about bumping forward with a bunch of strangers. I passed some people. Some people passed me. We were New Yorkers, so, occasionally, we practically collided.

I loved the signs: “Worst. Parade. Ever,” or, “You’re Running Better Than the Government is Right Now!” I loved the musicians: traditional bands, but also one guy in the middle of Ocean Avenue playing cello, all by himself. I high fived anyone who reached out: guys with those big foam hands, elementary school kids, even a baby. As I ran, I laughed!

Reynolds had warned me that how I felt about the run afterwards would come down to the last few miles: my body would either give out, or get a surge of strength that pushed me across the finish line. During one of her own races, she said she stayed motivated by focusing on another runner, someone with a dancer’s body who seemed to be running on springs. I looked around for my own competitor.

I kept seeing one particular head bob up and down in the crowd: a woman with twin fishtail braids in her short blond hair, and a blue shirt. She looked strong, slightly faster than me. She was always a few meters ahead. For the last couple of miles I lost sight of her completely, and figured she’d surged forward. 

Suddenly, at mile 12, we were shoulder to shoulder. She’d been behind me, not ahead.

I could see the boardwalk approaching, see the road ahead disappearing into the hazy ocean beyond. We moved forward together, neck and neck. Then: she pulled ahead, zoomed up to the boardwalk, across the finish, melting into the crowd beyond. And I was a few feet behind, realizing as someone slipped a medal into my hand: it was over.

I looked for the woman in the fishtail braids to thank her but never found her. I hope she’ll be back next year: I want to be. “You looked amazing!” my friend Beth texted me when we were done. Then she sent me the details for her hometown race. It’s just seven weeks away.

[This is part of a series on the science of exercise and what it takes to run a half marathon from WNYC’s Mary Harris, host of Only Human and health reporter. To see the earlier posts, click here.]

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안녕!

🍌  here with DEEEEEEAAAAAAN 

Originally posted by selwinchester

What a beauty; what a face! A face your wonderful 🍌  will be seeing in NY in just a couple of days~ So please expect a small series to follow up with some New York adventures 😙

We welcome all requests so go ahead and place it right here <–

Alexander 狼精神
NikeLab ACG Gore-Tex® 2 in 1 System Jacket
ΛCRИM P10A-S | Rick Owens X Adidas Runner

Dylan O’brienfor better quality; screen shot, don’t save!

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If this doesn’t remind you of Dylan O'brien then I don’t know what would do 😂

long suffering Mets fan

thank you buzzfeed

a New York scumbag Yankees mother fucking opener in my house

where my wife sleeps

where my children come to play with their toys

I am laughing so hard at this

can you imagine Dylan’s face if this happen to him?