Back in 2015, a trio of scientists led by the University of Michigan’s Sandra Hunter, one of the world’s leading experts on male-female performance differences, wrote in the Journal of Applied Physiology titled “The Two-Hour Marathon: What’s the Equivalent for Women?” The comparable barrier, they concluded, had already been broken by Paula Radcliffe’s 2003 world record of 2:15:25.

Since 2015, the men’s record has dropped by 1.9 percent to 2:00:35 (with Eliud Kipchoge also notching an unofficial 1:59:41 in a record-ineligible exhibition race). The women’s record, after earlier this month, has now dropped by a dizzying 4.0 percent to 2:09:56. The claim that Radcliffe had run the equivalent of sub-2:00 was debatable; the claim that Chepngetich has done so is not. This is the greatest marathon performance in history by virtually all metrics—and it has stirred up a hornet’s nest of reactions.

To be a fan of endurance sports in the modern era is to live with a baseline level of skepticism. We know that top athletes sometimes dope, because they’re sometimes caught. We also know that those who set records are, by definition, faster than these confirmed dopers. But Chepngetich’s world marathon record sparked a bigger backlash than anything we’ve previously seen. Politicians in Kenya’s parliament demanded an apology after Letsrun’s Robert Johnson —“Some people may think that the time is too fast and you must be doping. What would you say to them?”—at the post-race press conference. Former Boston Marathon champion and longtime running journalist Amby Burfoot made his suspicions clear: “We don’t have proof,” he wrote in , “but we know what we know.”

How is it possible that a woman could run five minutes faster than what was recently thought to be the equivalent of a men’s sub-two-hour marathon? Is it possible? These are questions that we can’t answer definitively, but there are some clues in the scientific literature that are worth bearing in mind as we consider what this new era means. Here are three points I’ve been mulling over the past week:

Maybe the Shoes Give Women an Edge

We know that supershoes have led to a wholesale rewriting of road racing records since 2016. But why is it that women seem to be improving more rapidly than men? As we’ve seen, women gained more than twice as much as men in the marathon since 2016. The same is true at other distances: the women’s 10K record has improved by 5.4 percent, and the half-marathon record by 3.5 percent; the men have improved by 1.2 percent and 1.5 percent, respectively.

There are a few possible explanations. One is sociocultural: East African men have been dominating international running for decades, but women from the region have emerged more recently, so the talent pool may still be deepening. Or perhaps, as with the Eastern Bloc women on anabolic steroids in the 1980s, there’s an as-yet-undetected form of doping that helps women more than men.

Another possibility, raised in , is that women get a bigger boost from supershoes. A team of researchers led by Joel Mason of Friedrich Schiller University in Jena, Germany, proposes several hypotheses for why the shoes might work better for women.

One theory is that, even though male athletes tend to be taller and heavier than female athletes, the maximum midsole thickness of 40 millimetres (about 1.6 inches) imposed by World Athletics is the same for everyone. That means women’s effective leg length gets a bigger proportional increase, and their shoes are thicker relative to length. Women’s lighter weight is also less likely to make the midsole “bottom out” when it’s compressed. If the maximum midsole thickness was proportional to shoe size, this theory suggests, the differences between men and women would shrink or disappear.

There are also more esoteric theories, like sex differences in the elastic properties of muscles and tendons that enhance the female response to the shoes. And there’s the simple fact that women, with shorter legs, take more steps than men, which “may simply provide more opportunity for the supershoe mechanisms to interact with the ground, potentially compounding the benefits.”

All these mechanisms are speculative, but the performance data showing that women are improving more rapidly than men is quite clear (and has shown up in too). This makes Chepngetich’s sub-2:10 a little more palatable—but it doesn’t explain why she’s so far ahead of all the other women who should presumably be getting similar benefits. The previous record, set last year, was 2:11:53; the next best time after that is 2:13:44. That’s a gap of three minutes and 48 seconds to the third best time in history. For comparison, 49 different men have run within 3:48 of the men’s world record.

°Őłó±đ°ů±đ’s Something in the Air

When I was covering Nike’s Breaking2 project in 2017, they deployed a vast array of scientific tweaks to aid Eliud Kipchoge and his peers in their quest for a sub-two: high-tech training analysis, newly designed race suits, wearable oxygen sensors, and so on. After sifting through the details, my impression was that only two interventions had the potential to really move the needle: supershoes and drafting.

°Őłó±đ°ů±đ’s a lot of debate about how much drafting really matters at marathon speeds (unlike cycling speeds, where it’s clearly a huge factor). One theoretical analysis from 2022 concluded that the seven-person arrow formation that Kipchoge used in his sub-two run saved 5:29 compared to running solo. That’s a surprisingly big number, and when you consider that Kelvin Kiptum hardly drafted at all in his marathon world record last year, it becomes hard to swallow.

Chepngetich had two male pacemakers who guided her for almost the entire race. I believe that this sort of pacing help has big mental benefits, in the same way that pacing lights have helped spur faster times on the track. But as University of Colorado biomechanist Rodger Kram pointed out in an email after the race, it was notable that Chepngetich ran behind and between her pacers, rather than directly behind either of them.

°Őłó±đ°ů±đ’s that compared this drafting configuration to several others. Chepngetich’s formation theoretically saved 1.6 minutes compared to running alone. Running in a pace line, with one pacer directly in front and the other directly behind, would have saved 2.6 minutes. Here’s the data showing calculated drag forces for various configurations:

The implication here is that Chepngetich’s performance wasn’t the result of everything coming together absolutely perfectly. On the contrary, she could have gone faster! Her pacing suggests the same thing: she ran the first half in 1:04:16 then slowed in the second half to 1:05:40, which scientists believe is not the best way to run your fastest possible time.

So She’s Doping?

The female supershoe advantage offers a plausible explanation for how Chepngetich’s record could be so much better than Kiptum’s. Notably, according to , Chepngetich raced in Nike’s new Alphafly 3 shoe, a switch from the Vaporfly she had worn in previous years. She also began using Maurten’s hydrogel carbohydrate drink for the first time. With a little work, you can construct a case for how, at the age of 30, Chepngetich is suddenly so much better than she was before.

Is this merely an exercise in fantasy? After all, Chepngetich’s agent, Federico Rosa, has overseen the careers of several high-profile marathoners who were caught using drugs, including multi-time Boston and Chicago marathon champion Rito Jeptoo and 2016 Olympic champion Jemima Sumgong.

Like many running fans, I’ve been wrestling with the doping question for the past week. And I’ve found myself thinking about the seemingly unrelated problem of injury prediction. Say you test thousands of soccer players for hamstring strength, follow them for a few years, and find that those with weaker hamstrings are more likely to get injured. Eureka! Now you know that players with weaker hamstrings should do extra strengthening exercises.

But there’s one problem: how do you set the threshold for what constitutes “weak” hamstrings? If you set it too high, you’ll have a lot of false negatives, meaning that players who should have strengthened their hamstrings didn’t. If you set it too low, you’ll have a lot of false positives, meaning that players who didn’t need to strengthen their hamstrings wasted time on hamstring exercises.

What researchers have concluded over the years is that to set a threshold that keeps both false negatives and false positives to an acceptable level. Even when you have good data associating a risk factor (hamstring strength) with an outcome (injury), in practice you can’t tell who’s at risk. If you think hamstring strengthening reduces injury risk and is worth the time and energy required, you should tell all your players to do it.

I feel the same way when friends ask whether I think Chepngetich is doping. There is, in fact, good evidence that sudden jumps in performance can be a clue about doping, an approach called “.” But it doesn’t tell you if someone is cheating; it merely flags that you should target that person for testing. Chepngetich’s performance raises a number of red flags: the time itself; her massive improvement at the age of 30; her association with Rosa; the fact that Kenya currently has 106 track and field athletes .

But where, exactly, is the threshold of red flags that tells us she’s doping? It’s simply not possible to set one that doesn’t catch innocent athletes in its net. Unlike the most skeptical running fans, I don’t believe that all elite athletes are doping. I know several Olympic finalists who I’m confident weren’t doping—though, by the same token, I can never be 100 percent sure they weren’t. As with the need for hamstring exercises to prevent injury, I simply have to assume that doping is a possibility, but not a certainty, for everyone.

°Őłó±đ°ů±đ’s one final detail worth noting. Chepngetich’s first-half split of 1:04:16 was crazy, but it wasn’t totally unprecedented. Last year in Chicago, she went out in 1:05:42; the year before that, she split 1:05:44. In those previous races, she faded badly in the second half, but she clearly believed she was capable of running close to 2:10 even then. A breakthrough like this only happens when someone believes it’s possible—and now that Chepngetich has done it, others will be trying to follow.

For more Sweat Science, join me on and , sign up for the , and check out my book .

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I’m an accomplished runner, and I’ve been wanting to try climbing at a facility near my apartment. I have no experience, but I’ve been watching videos online, and I think it’s something I would really like.

I’m used to running, which is a relatively private activity. Most of the time, nobody’s watching me. If they are, it’s because I’m in a race and performing at a fairly high level.

When I think about going to the gym, I get a pit in my stomach at the thought of people watching me be bad at climbing. I know everyone has to start somewhere, but I don’t want to slip and fall in front of other people. Or worse, I might get stuck, and be trapped up there while people watch me.

It seems like being athletic-looking makes it worse, because people will expect me to do well. How do I get over my embarrassment at trying something new?

For a while in college, I got into running. I was slow as heck, but I enjoyed it—which surprised me, since I’d always hated gym class. I headed out for an hour most mornings. For the first few weeks, I just walked, watching the sunrise through the trees. Then I tried jogging, starting with small goals: or two, then walkingĚýuntil I caught my breath. Eventually I was able to run the whole time, even on huge hills. I was in the best shape of my life.Ěý

One day, I went on a date with a guy who was, like, a real runner. He was a college athlete, and he played sports in high school before that. He was fast and wiry. He made running look easy in a way that it had never, ever been for me.

We hit it off—at least, until the topic of a local 5K race came up. I mentioned that I might enter. I felt proud, saying it casually like that. I could run now! I was the kind of person who might enter a race on a whim!

He said that more people should enter. “Honestly,” he said, “if anyone out there can’t run three miles in a row, that’s pretty pathetic. Right?”

I froze. “Right,” I said. “Totally.” I wanted to disappear.

I was proud of my running, but I didn’t look down on the non-runner I was before. She had other priorities. She’d been doing just fine.

Still, I took the guy’s words at face value. He thought anyone who couldn’t run three miles was pathetic. I hadn’t been able to run three miles until recently—and it took me a lot of effort to get there. Therefore, if this guy really knew me, he would think I was pathetic.

I avoided him after that, so he’d never learn the truth.

Embarrassment and self-consciousness often stem from the idea that other people will think the same bad things that we already think—or fear—about ourselves. I was 20 years old, and though I worked hard to accept myself, I struggled with a fear that’s so common in young women: that there was something wrong or undesirable about my body, my shape, my looks. The idea that this guy saw something pathetic about my body—even if he didn’t realize it—cut deep.

But looking back, I think his statement may have been an attempt to cover up his own lack of confidence, too. Did he feel pressure to make running look easy? Was he afraid of losing fitness, and thus his identity as an athlete? Was he trying to impress me, or test me? Was there some part of him that hoped I would say I disagreed?

How Trying a New Sport Can Help You Gain Confidence

If you’re afraid that people may see you as a beginner, then your primary fear isn’t about other people. It’s about yourself. It’s about what being a beginner might mean about you. You’re not afraid that other people will be wrong about you. You’re afraid that they might see the truth.

I don’t say this to diminish your accomplishments in any way. I have no doubt about your athletic ability, your talent, and your hard work. I just wish that you could feel as certain about those things as I do.

Building confidence is an ongoing process; there’s no easy fix. But in this case, I think that climbing may help you in more ways than one. It might be fun, yes—and even more importantly, it could help you realize that being bad at something doesn’t make you worth less. Your athleticism doesn’t disappear just because you lose your grip on a handhold. And your identity as an athlete doesn’t dissolve if you try a new and challenging sport. It might even get stronger.

If you’re still nervous, try going to the gym a few times and just observing. It’s great that you’ve been watching climbing videos, but the people you see on social media probably have years of experience. At the gym, climbers will have different body types and skill levels. They’ll slip. They’ll laugh. They’ll pick wedgies. Being there in person will make climbers seem less like icons and more like people. And once you see them as people, it’ll be easier to picture yourself as one of them.

writes our Tough Love column. The top sports on her to-try list are long-distance paddling, kite skiing, and curling.

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How do you make the best of a golf addiction? Add running. That’s the formula contributor Alex Ward tried to perfect a few months ago, when he started figuring out a way to turn his rounds of golf into real exercise. Would golf be an endurance sport if he played sunrise to sunset? What if he wore running gear, carried just three clubs, and played this notoriously slow and calm sport absolutely as fast as he could?

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I’m on the move constantly. I exercise about six days a week, walk everywhere (thank you, New York City), and dance the night away until, well, let’s just say the early hours of the morning. But there’s not a lot of time for play. That feeling of running around the playground, tripping and falling on wood chips, or slipping on wet grass just doesn’t exist in my current life. (And, yes, I did get injured a lot as a child.) But, recently, I rediscovered the feeling of carefree movement in a surprising place: the pickleball court.

Like many Americans, I quickly got into after being taught by a family member last summer. Fortunately, my roommates were on board with my new obsession. We purchased a moveable net from that we could set up on a nearby lined court. Within just a few minutes of hitting around, we were all hooked. A free thing to do in New York City that wasn’t our typical park hang? Yes, please. But I also became entranced with the game for an unexpected reason: it made me feel like a kid again.

My movement throughout the rest of the week is structured. As much as I would love to embody from “Friends,” I tend to lean more on the side of Rachel, just getting in my standard jog. My workout classes follow the same trajectory. But pickleball is different. When I’m running around the court, joking with my roommates, or making a goofy impression of my competitor’s last shot, it’s just plain fun.

The Benefits of Free Play

When I originally learned of the concept of “free play,” I assumed it required a completely unstructured activity. That’s not necessarily the case. “I define play as any joyful act where you forget about time and are fully immersed at the moment and willing to let go of the results,” says , a consultant on positive play.

If you’re engaged in a deeply competitive game where you are only focused on winning versus enjoying the match, that’s not really considered play, Harry explains. Play requires playing for the sake of having fun, instead of winning, performing, or impressing others. Unlike other activities or sports I do, this is what sets pickleball apart. I’m not that good. I head out on the court not with the aim of winning a point, but rather to spend time moving outside and socializing.

The benefits of engaging in free play as an adult go beyond just having fun. found that college students who engaged in play reported lower levels of stress than those who didn’t. Additionally, noted that play strengthened emotional intelligence and emotional traits in participants, helping them cultivate resilience.

It’s something I’ve noticed anecdotally in my own experience on and off the court. After a few hours of playing, I’m calmer, centered, and generally happier.

How You Can Engage in Play

You don’t have to be pickleball-obsessed to engage in play. It can be any activity that brings you joy. And discovering what that pastime is for you is simpler than you may think. “Get bored,” recommends Harry. The next time you’re not heading to a scheduled activity, spend a few minutes aways from your screens and just sit with yourself. Connect with your inner child—and imagine what would actually be fun for you in that moment.

Experiment with what different types of play may look like for you, whether that’s acting on an impulse to free dance or saying yes to a friend’s invitation to a concert in the park. Your type of play won’t look the same as others—and that’s OK. It has to be personal to you.

That goes for setting time limits, too.“Only the person playing will know how many hours or days one should spend per week,” Harry says. If you have trouble letting go of time-bound limits, remind yourself that clocking in and out of an activity can be a symptom of perfectionism. Play isn’t something that can be structured in the same way.

Even if you’re not engaging in your activity of choice, you can still maintain an aura of play throughout your days. “In my case, I see life through the lens of play, so I play almost all the time,” Harry says. “Even if it is challenging and not fun, I still can be at play, embracing a play-oriented mindset built on curiosity, awe, and a sense of wonder.”

It’s impossible for me to be out on the court every day. But I try to keep Harry’s words in mind as I sit at my desk during the week. Bringing the aura of play to my work sometimes manifests in getting particularly excited around a colleague’s new story or having a lighthearted brainstorming session. It’s not pickleball—but it’s definitely another type of playfulness.

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Hellah Sidibe shared his story with producer Sarah Vitak for an episode of The Daily RallyĚýpodcast. It was edited for length and clarity.

I went into this dark area in life where I was just mad. Why is this happening to me?

It all came down to, all right, I’m pissed at everything, but let me stop making excuses. Just look at myself, and just deal with what I can handle, what I’m in control of. That’s how it started.

My full name is Hellah Sidibe, but I have a nickname: Hellah Good. I got that nickname back in college. I played Division I soccer. Every time I would take the ball and start sprinting down the line, they’d just say, oh, he’s Hellah good.

A Lifelong Love of Soccer

Growing up in Mali, West Africa, soccer was the number one sport. We just loved playing, and we loved watching the top players on TV. We were trying to play like them: we were trying to score goals and celebrate the way they do.

We lived in an area where there’s dirt, so we would use our feet to trace and make marks. You would literally make the whole soccer field. In order to still see the line, we would go into our kitchens. When we make food, we make food with wood and charcoal. Everybody would fill that up in a can from their house and bring it to the field. The path that we created with our feet, we’d spray that chalky gray-white powder along those lines so it looked like the white soccer lines.

We’d pick teams. Say: you’re Brazil, you’re Argentina. We’d always take the South American teams because they were the best in the world at the time, when I was young. We would pick players, and we would be like, you’re Thierry Henry, you’re Luís Figo. I’d say, I’m Ronaldo Nazário. Sometimes you’d just paint their numbers on your back, on your bare skin.

We would recruit our own team within the neighborhood. The next neighborhood was within a five-minute walk, and we’d go play them. Their neighborhood we would call allez, which is away. And there was no pressure. We did it because we wanted to, and no one was yelling at us.

When I came to the U.S., it got a little competitive. There started being consequences. If you didn’t do something right, the punishment was: let’s make you run. So I got to college, and it added more to that because I was playing under a coach. His mindset was that we might not be the most skillful team in the country, but we’re gonna be the fittest team in the country. It was to a point in that sometimes the track team would joke around and say, are you guys with the UMass track team or the soccer team? Because whenever they went by the field, they’d see us just huffing and puffing.

So I started hating running. I would cramp up in my calves, my lungs would be burning, and my hamstrings would be on fire. I started having a fear of it. It wasn’t a fear where I hated the game, but it was fear of going to practice for that specific reason. You’re getting yelled at like it’s not enough, even though you feel like you’re giving your absolute best.

Out of almost 400 players, I was one of 20 picked up to face the US youth national team. All of those teams were after me: phone calls from teams, telling me, we want this player. We like his skillset. I was approached by Sporting Kansas City my senior year, and they were one of the top teams in the MLS and won the MLS Cup the year that I finished college.

I was told: you’re gonna get picked up in the draft.

There were domestic roster spots and international roster spot at the time. I don’t know if that’s changed; I haven’t really looked into it. It was the rule that only eight international players could be picked up per team, and the rest had to be domestic players.

The assistant coach at Sporting Kansas City was like, hey Hellah, I’m sorry to tell you this, but the reality is right now. We’d rather have a young player that is a U.S. citizen that’s not as talented as you, but we can develop them and we don’t have to worry about the paperwork side of it. But also we can pick up a big European player that can sell jerseys and tickets that can take the spot. Versus, I’m somebody who hasn’t made a name for himself.

He was just telling me the reality. It wasn’t even his decision.

Just seeing that—it is frustrating, and it’s tough. Your goal is to play the game that you love, and it’s getting pulled away from you.

I just started hating everything. I’m not a doctor, but I do think there was some depression looking back. When you’re in that spot, nothing matters. Someone could smile at you or could even want to hug you, and you want nothing to do with that.

It all came down to, all right, I’m pissed at everything, but let me stop making excuses. Just look at myself, and just deal with what I can handle, what I’m in control of. That’s how it started.

It was a looking-at-myself-in-a-mirror moment. What can you do with yourself right now? What are you in control of? I literally had that conversation with myself. Being an athlete, you always fall back on your physical ability because it makes you feel a certain way mentally. You like challenging yourself. You like competing on the field.

I was just like, what are you gonna do now? You tell yourself you’re going to go to the gym every day for a week, and you can’t even last three days. Do something, and hold yourself accountable for once. Be consistent.

So that is what led me in 2017 to when I said, what is a fear of mine that I wanna face? And running was the first thing that hit my mind.

It was a two-week goal of ten minutes a day within the first week. I didn’t care about distance. It was time. I would just start my watch, and then after ten minutes I’d be done, so I’d be just over a mile.

The ten-minute goal wasn’t because I couldn’t do more than ten minutes; it was just attainable. I just knew that it wasn’t so much where I was going to hate it.

That didn’t last more than a week. Even within the first week, I was going as far as four miles, which is way longer than ten minutes. But I would get lost in it. It wasn’t about pace or distance or anything. It was about just being out there in the present moment.

I ran every day for two weeks. And then I said, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life. Let me do it every day for a year.

And now we’re here, running every day for 1,989 consecutive days. About to hit 2,000 consecutive days. And running across the U.S., doing a hundred-mile race, and still loving it like day one.

When things aren’t necessarily working out in life, it does mean it’s the end of you. It just means that it’s preparing you for something even greater. You just have to focus on what you can control and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Right now, I would not trade this for anything. Nope, I would not.

Hellah Sidibe is a runner, speaker, and content creator. He has run for more than 2,000 consecutive days. In 2021, he ran across the United States. In September of 2022, he competed in the Leadville Trail 100 Ultra Marathon. You can learn more about him at .

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After suffering a brutal accident while on a kite-skiing expedition in Patagonia, Jim Harris’s painstaking recovery took a sudden leap forward when he had an experience with magic mushrooms. The adventure photographer had been pushing hard with his rehabilitation efforts and making impressive progress, but when he tookĚýmushrooms while at a music festivalĚýto have some fun, something very unexpected happened: suddenly, muscle groups in his legs that had been unresponsive since his injury started firing. Thus began a fascinating journey that offers insights into the emerging science of psychedelics and physical healing.

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For a community of hardy souls in Maine, there’s no better way to feel fully alive in winter than immersing yourself in the frigid Atlantic. Yes, the entrance is jolting. But if you take it slow, you allow for what members of the group call “a conversation with the nervous system” that produces a sensation you can’t achieve any other way: a powerful, blossoming inner warmth that’s both delightful and grounding, leaving you with a lasting elevated mood and enhanced feelings of empathy and responsiveness. In this episode, from our friends at the podcast, we learn how the dippers found their way to this bold practice, and why they’ll never give it up.

Interested in trying cold-water immersion? şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř/In offers beforeĚýyou get started.

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Figuring out how to get better sleep and more exercise is hard—which is why we tried out some new programs for you. Every year, şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř reportersĚýput their bodies and minds on the line to test new routinesĚýdesigned to help us become healthier, happier, more productive human beings. Hear from three of this year’s subjects about what stuck, what didn’t, and how you can benefit from our mistakes.

The şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Podcast is made possible by our şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř+ members. Learn about the many benefits of membership and join us at outsideonline.com/outsideplus/.

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If someone mapped my brain, 80 percent of it would glow a steady blue and orange, with the synapses simmering down during the off-season, then firing on all cylinders from spring training through to the playoffs and World Series. My team—the —do that to me every year. They’re in my blood, their wins and losses affect my moods, and I once told a date I didn’t feel well so I could go home and watch the game. This wasn’t true, but I had to do it, because the bar we were in didn’t carry the channel airing the action. Is this attachment emotionally healthy? Maybe not. But, physically, being a fan can be one of the healthiest things you do for yourself. Let’s break it down.

Step Count: The Long, Long Trip to the Yard

I live in suburban New Jersey, and I wear on my sleeve plays in Queens, so it takes significant physical activity just to get to the ballpark. On a typical game day, I leave home and walk a block to catch the NJTransit train to , where I then walk upstairs, across a platform, and then downstairs to another train that takes me to Manhattan’s Penn Station. From there I walk to either the A,C,E or the 1,2,3—routes on the New York subway system—and ride that for one stop to the Port Authority terminal on 8th Avenue. And then I walk some more and switch to the esteemed 7 Line.

The 7 is the Mets train, in that it deposits you right at the stop (Willets Point), except … when it doesn’t. Sometimes I think I’m on an express train (faster service, fewer stops!), but the 7 surprises me by converting to local service (too many stops!) at or near the Queensboro station, then going out of service altogether at 103rd or 111th streets, unceremoniously dumping a cadre of Mets fans onto the platform, forcing us to walk the rest of the way to the house that built. Our unexpected pilgrimage is punctuated with chants of “Let’s go, Mets” as I lay down an additional 1,000 steps on top of the 5,000 or so I’ve already done. Phew!

Let’s Play Ball! And Be Ready to Go On the Air.

Under the innovative direction of , the SportsNet New York (SNY) broadcasts of Mets games have consistently been the best show in all of Major League Baseball. The dream for fans like me is to score an moment, having an SNY camera land on you in the stands, prompting announcers , , to make favorable comments about your look as part of their award-winning banter. Like Ichiro Girl herself—a young woman named Iris Skinner, who was well-dressed and well-coiffed when her date with destiny happened—you need to prepare. That means going to the gym regularly, dressing right, and applying some make-up. After all, you’re going to a Mets game. Not a Jets game.

This past summer, I went to a road game in Pittsburgh, and I achieved the dream when GKR discussed the grammatical correctness (or lack thereof) of the Gary & Keith & Ron T-shirt I was wearing. (Gary wasn’t sure about using ampersands instead of commas; they all wanted to know if the name of Mets field reporter Steve Gelbs was on the back [no]; and Keith said he liked my shirt’s color scheme.) The possibility of another shining moment is enough for me to stick with a steady routine of working on my deltoids and biceps at the gym. The hope is that the fit of my Mets shirts is so good that being on TV will make some hot Mets fanboy propose to me on the Jumbotron, and then my mother can finally stop nagging me about not marrying the gorgeous furniture designer I dated in my twenties.

“Utah, Get Me !” A Fan’s Notes on Performance Nutrition.

I’m usually a traditionalist at the ballpark, so I’m perfectly content with a hot dog and fries or a simple sausage and pepper sandwich that’s about a foot long. But even traditionalists like options once in a while, and Citi Field has long understood the necessity for delicious snacks that take things to a higher level—for times when the game is stuck in rain delay, or we’re routing somebody 12 to 3, or an ace pitcher just experienced a season-ending injury and I need comfort food, stat.

To get to the specialty menu offerings, you must go to the top level (called the Promenade), which means climbing five flights of stairs. Yes, there are elevators, but they’re slow and small and COVID still exists, so you tackle the first set of steps and start climbing. “This is nothing, just a handful of single-leg step-ups,” you think as you breeze along, comparing your effort to something easy you do at the gym.

“OK, fine, these are more like weighted step-ups,” you say shortly after that, as the water bottle that security miraculously allowed you to bring in starts to feel as heavy as a kettlebell.

Then comes: “How am I not there yet?!” You internally scream as you realize that you kind of want to take a rest, but there’s nowhere to sit. And then you remember what awaits at the top: a fried chicken biscuit sandwich, Pig Beach BBQ’s “bases loaded” fries, or Murray’s buffalo mac and cheese. And did I mention cookies and ice cream?

So you charge ahead, with one more level to go to reach the promised land of deliciousness, knowing your butt and calves—and maybe your core if you are engaging!—will hate you tomorrow.

Dance Till You Drop: “Narco,” by Blasterjaxx and Timmy Trumpet

What was the song of summer, you ask? It was “,” the entrance music that was used whenever elite closer Edwin Díaz jogged onto the field to blow away the opposition and lock up a game for the Mets. The song became synonymous with Edwin’s incredible skills, so hearing it and seeing him come in generated excitement and delight in every sentient person who was in the stadium or watching at home.

himself was on hand to play it one night, just as Díaz left the bullpen during a game against the Dodgers. I was watching that game at home, and when the entrance happened, SNY made it clear that the atmosphere at Citi Field had become a full-on dance party—which I joined by bopping along solo in my living room. “Narco” is a song that makes you get up, and we all looked like we were rocking out at a bar mitzvah by the time the trumpets chimed in; awkward and slightly off beat, but with boundless joy and energy. Even if you don’t like to dance, you have no choice but to move your body when “Narco” plays. Maybe you’ll jump up and down, maybe you’ll shake your ass, but you will never be standing still. Dancing is excellent for your cardiovascular health! It builds endurance and enhances flexibility and balance!

The Axe Method for Relieving the Stress and Frustration of Enemy Teams

The 2022 Mets season has undoubtedly been a special one: 101 wins; Jeff McNeil earning the National League batting title; Max Scherzer getting his 200th win and Edwin Díaz his 200th save. was so charming and delightful when they mic’d him up for a game that he almost made us forget that this was for an ESPN broadcast instead of SNY.

But it’s baseball, it’s a long season, and it’s also the Mets—so, alas, there will be times when fate makes you want to punch things. A better alternative is ax-throwing, something I tried toward the end of the regular season, when the Mets were embroiled in a dramatic pennant race with the Atlanta Braves that we ultimately lost—still making the playoffs, mind you, but not winning the coveted crown to the National League East.

One Saturday afternoon, I, accompanied by another Mets fan, went to a place in Paramus, New Jersey, called , where they offer the best indoor game there is. (And, as a bonus, Sebastian—the axe master on duty—was also a Mets fan.) It’s really the perfect way to burn off your anxiety and resentment. You’re working your shoulders, your lats, your core! And, little by little with every strenuous toss, you’re chipping away at how mad you are that they couldn’t win just one game in Atlanta in their last road series, or that they gave away a reliever you liked at the trade deadline. Even anger contributes to our fitness! We are the healthiest fandom by far! And an added bonus if your throwing companion happens to be tall, strong and handsome, watching him fling axes at the wall is hella sexy and helps you forget the pain.

This team has undoubtedly caused me to suffer over the years. My earliest memories are from 1987 at Shea, a season coming off a World Series win, when I was six years old and I already loved these guys (mainly because one had the last name Strawberry). But even at a young age I could feel the energy and excitement in the air. I’ve felt that energy and electricity again in the early- and mid-aughts, then in 2015, and now this year. I’m all in for these guys and always will be. But, on the off chance that my October baseball get cut short, you can find me throwing more axes in Paramus, toning my arms for SNY broadcasts in the spring of 2023. !

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