2013 Chicago Marathon

It was another great adventure with friends, and a tribute to those that selflessly give their time to support others.

A group of us ran the San Diego Marathon on my 40th birthday, and now seven years later, we were back to celebrate Tami chasing 50. Five of us ran the Chicago Marathon - Tami and Cherie running their third marathon overall, and Brian and Debbie running their very first. Cherie promises that when she turns 50, the celebration will be more along the lines of drinks on beach of a tropical island.

This would be my 15th marathon, but I was probably more nervous about how the day would go as anytime since my first. Work deadlines and twelve hour days at the office took their toll in the final month leading up to the marathon. I missed some weekday runs, and then my last long run was the worst run in several years. We ran in a deluge of rain and high winds, my IT bands knotted up, and knee pain forced me to walk the last three miles home. The pain did not go away after I stopped running, and I was hobbling around for several days, every muscle in my legs tight and sore. A few weeks earlier I thought I might set a new personal best, but now walking much of the marathon was a distinct possibility.

We arrived at the starting area at around 5:45am, nice and early in anticipation of the crowds. Security was heightened after the Boston bombings, so I was nervous about the lines to get in. We breezed through, either a testament to their organization, or payoff for getting out of bed so early. Pictures, excited chatter, quick trips to the porta-johns, hugs and encouragement, last bits of advice and prayer, and it was off to our respective starting areas to await the starting gun.

Boston was on our minds, and many of us wore blue bracelets and shoe laces as a symbol of solidarity, and I had printed up a special race shirt for the marathon as well. I wanted to focus on the positive community of marathons, and how these events bring so many people together to triumph over adversity. I wanted to focus on what is right with the world, rather than what is wrong, but I wanted to honor the victims as well. It is such a strange experience for most of us to be cheered along on our journey, and it is amazing how powerful this support is when you are feeling like you can't go on. I am ever thankful for those that come out in the wee hours only to support their fellow man, and none more so the three that senselessly lost their lives while doing this positive thing for complete strangers.

There was thirty seconds of silence for the Boston victims a few minutes before the start. I have experienced moments of silence at events before, but there always seems to be a few people who keep talking or banging around. Marathon morning, the excited chatter stopped immediately, and the silence was absolute. Just after this, the National Anthem began. When PA cut out a couple words in, our corral spontaneously started singing. The professional continued, but so did we. When the PA cut out every five words, it was smoothly filled in by the amateurs. These two moments back to back were an extra moving start to an outstanding day, and just seemed to bond us together that much more.

The Chicago crowds were amazing. I have never experienced such a large, enthusiastic string of supporters. It was estimated that there were 2 million people lining the streets, and nearly every step of the way there was someone on the sidelines cheering us on, sometimes three rows deep. It was unbelievable. I was choked up in the first few miles from the power of it. The energy carried me along to a fast start, probably too fast in the end.

I covered the first 13.1 miles in just over an hour and fifty minutes. My hope weeks earlier was that I could sneak in under my previous best of 3:45 and for the first half I was at a 3:40 pace. My expectation, however, was that the knee pain would rear its ugly head, and that I would need to walk the last several miles. Halfway through my knees were fine, but my hamstrings and calves were feeling tight. My mind bounced back between realistic expectation, and dreams of a new personal best.

Each turn brought us to a new neighborhood (twenty-nine in all), and a new set of cheering supporters. It was deafening at times, and it felt like we could be carried along on the blasting sound wave. Everything about this marathon seemed to be on a grander scale - the 40,000 runners, two-block-long water stations, twenty thousand volunteers, and of course the millions of spectators. I found myself running with an endless smile, shaking my head at the spectacle, and even mouthing "I love you all" to a particularly enthusiastic choir of voices.

Though all of us shared the same road, each runner ran their own journey. No matter how difficult the marathon seems at times, all you need to do is look to your left or right to find someone running a more difficult road than you. It is not unusual at a marathon these days to see runners missing their lower leg, titanium and carbon fiber replacing what was once flesh. On this day of course, it reminded us of those that lost their limbs in Boston, but were determined to take to the roads once again. I passed by a woman who had lost her left leg to the hip, and was making her way to the finish line with a rhythmic swing.

She was accompanied by a volunteer, as were several blind runners I ran beside. One runner had three volunteers, one behind and two flanking her, to guide her to the finish. I was again reminded of the determination of runners, and the loving support of volunteers, and I placed my hand on the nearest shoulder and simply said, "You're awesome".

Though my heart was carried along on a wave of emotion, reality began to set into my legs. My hamstrings and calves grew tighter with each step, and my pace slowed with the inability to push off. I still had some time in the bank, but doubt, once a quiet voice, began to shout. I longed for the next water stop for the chance to replenish and an excuse to walk for a bit. Soon, I couldn't wait for the next stop, and pulled to the side of the road to walk and to try to let my legs unwind. I tried to keep the breaks short, but the pain grew stronger than the brain. I took in more fuel and just kept moving forward. Dreams of 3:45 were gone, but 3:50 was still in sight if I could just hang on.

I shuffled through another wave of screaming supporters as I reached the 25.2 mile mark. Only one mile to go. Buoyed by the screaming voices of random strangers, I told myself I would not walk another step in the final mile. I cranked up the volume on the music that largely went unheard all day over the crowd, and I pressed on the best I could, trying to push my legs to the limit without allowing them to snap.

There were two final turns to the finish I could picture in my head from The Spirit of the Marathon movie, the right turn leading us up a small hill before making the left toward home. Waves of cheers did their best to drown out "My Thanksgiving" playing over the headphones as I set my sights on the clock over the finish line. I crossed in 3:48:50 physically fragile and emotionally overwhelmed. A truly amazing day.

I met Scott in the finish area and enjoyed a complimentary beer and the energy of the finishers as we waited for our friends to arrive. Tami crossed first, and then Cherie with a new personal best. Debbie, then Brian crossed next having thoroughly enjoyed the experience of their first marathon (other than Brian's two stops to get his knee taped). After making our way back to the hotel and getting cleaned up, we shared our common but unique stories over some Chicago deep dish pizza and cold beer.

I had heard stories about how incredible the support was in Chicago, but it is something else to experience first hand. To have such a concrete example of the power of community with Boston heavy on our minds was amazing. To share this wonder with friends and strangers alike, and to see two more people experience the power of a finish line was fantastic. It never gets old, and it only seems to get better.

And then there was this story that we didn't hear about until days later.

With an entourage of support, a man with muscular dystrophy crossed the finish line of the Bank of America Chicago Marathon early Monday morning -- nearly 17 hours after he started.

The 38-year-old passed the 26.2 milestone at around 1:30 a.m., surrounded by about 100 people.

"My message is: If you dream it, make it happen. Your life is the most beautiful thing that could happen to you. Make the best with that, and share the best of that," he said shortly after finishing the race.

Another in thousands of stories about human determination, and the support we can find in our fellow man. Though Boston reminded us how dangerous and fragile life can be, the marathon has reaffirmed that most people continue to strive to make this world a better place. Another amazing day.

For every moment of joy
for every hour of fear
for every winding road
that brought me here.

For every breath, for every day of living
this is my thanksgiving

For everyone who helped me start
and for everything that broke my heart.

For every breath, for every day of living
this is my thanksgiving.

A long run with friends

As I mentioned in a previous post, I signed up to run the Santa Clarita Marathon sort of last minute. I had been training for a marathon a few weeks away, so I was more or less in shape for it, but 26.2 miles is not something you typically run on an impulse. I am so glad I did.

The other Sean had dedicated his running year to a couple of goals. The first goal was to get his friend Steve across his first marathon finish. The second was to run most, if not all of his steps in the glove-like Vibram barefoot shoes, up to and including the 26.2 miles of the marathon.

He had been encouraging me over the past couple of months to run this marathon with him, but I felt that I would sort of be a party crasher. When Steve dropped out and Marci joined in, everything changed and it became a great opportunity to run alongside my two great friends.

Marci had a couple of goals of her own. After having a child, she likes to dedicate herself to running a marathon. I am sure there are multiple reasons, including getting back in running shape, having a place and time all her own, and just to get back to doing something she enjoys. I think there is also a certain stubborn streak in her that just wants to prove that she can do it. Sean and Marci had their third child in March, and this would be the third time towing a marathon start line six or seven months after giving birth.

The first time she did this was in Washington D.C. back in 2006, which was also my first marathon finish. She and I ran (and walked) together, and she made it easier to believe I could make it through. I tried to send her on ahead when I struggled, but she stuck with me all the way, and we finished. Finished. What a feeling it was to cross that finish line of my first marathon.

Sean, Marci and I have participated in several races and marathons since then. I have even run alongside Sean in a couple of marathons, but we hadn't crossed the finish line together. More typically we encourage each other at the start, celebrate the finish together, and in between we set out and run our own race. This was my twelfth marathon, and have had wonderful experiences at each one, but this past Sunday was a little different, and it was one of my favorites.

The Santa Clarita Marathon is a smaller race. Where that first marathon in D.C. had some 23,000 people at the start line, there were only about 1,600 on Sunday, and only around 400 were running the full marathon. We weren't jammed together in a mass of humanity, there were no lines at the porta-potties, and it just felt all together more relaxed. We even had time to ask a stranger to snap a picture of us at the start. Check out our matching shirts and fanny packs. We definitely looked like a team.

Though there was music blasting at the start line, there were no bands along the way, and only small pockets of spectators here and there. It actually seemed like the same fifteen people leap-frogged ahead of us to cheer on the random strangers. Even the course felt more serene and relaxed. Most marathons are run along city streets, but this course was largely on tree-lined pathways called Paseos, making it feel that much more like a run through the countryside.

We left our headphones at home, and passed the time talking, joking and laughing with each other. Maybe because there were fewer spectators, or since we weren't locked in our own heads the whole time, we found ourselves encouraging more runners as we passed each other on the out-and-back portions. After losing the half marathoners at the twelve mile mark, it really felt like it was this small group of us out on a Sunday run. The course photographer caught several good shots of us, and we seemed to be smiling in each one.

Even though it is a smaller marathon, there was excellent support along the way. There were volunteers at every turn, and water stops at every mile staffed by Girl Scouts and Brownies. By the end, we were pouring as much on our heads as we were drinking (being careful not to pour Gatorade all over ourselves).

Things did get a bit more quiet after the 20 mile mark. The temperature had climbed from around 50 degrees at the start, to over 80 degrees at the finish. The increasing miles and heat took their toll, and the thoughts of a PR for Marci slipped away. Sean's feet were also hurting from running essentially barefoot all those miles. We were running slower than I trained for, so I wasn't out of breath, but my muscles seemed to hurt just as badly. The laughing and joking more or less stopped, but it was replaced with encouraging words as we pressed on to the finish.

We climbed a couple steep overpasses at the end, but then there was a nice down slope to a flat finish. Marci turned on the jets after rounding a corner and seeing the finish line, and Sean and I had to push it just to keep up. We crossed the line together, and the announcer said something along the lines of it being a family affair.

The finish area was small, but again there was plenty of room to relax and lots of recovery food to pass out. There wasn't a beer garden, but only steps away was a BJ's Brewhouse, and we stretched out on their patio and celebrated a great day on the roads.

We didn't break any records that day, but it was still one of my favorite races. Beautiful scenery, great support, and a wonderful way celebrate our friendship.

Thursday night adventures

As if there weren't enough reasons to go for a run. How about some prizes and a free beer?

Every second Thursday of the month, the local Road Runner Sports holds something they call an "Adventure Run". I finally checked it out in August, and ran my second one this evening. And it was a blast.

When I showed up the first time back in August, I really didn't know what to expect. The website said that you run to some checkpoints and gather raffle tickets. I figured that there would be 30 or 40 runners there, and that we would all just take off on some pre-determined route. When I pulled up a half hour before the start, the parking lot was full, and there were probably close to 200 runners milling about. They pointed me to a local ball field for overflow parking, and I had to hustle to get to the start line and get signed in.

Not only were there far more runners than I expected, the parking lot had been turned into a running expo with multiple booths and an emcee on the mike. I just followed the crowd and listened to the directions over the loudspeaker to figure out what I had signed up for. The Adventure Run is basically a scavenger hunt for runners. After getting everyone signed in and ready, right at 6:00 they unfurl a map the size of a cargo van, and the game is on. The map is marked with lettered stops, and it is up to you to figure out the best path to try to hit them all.

They hand you a pen, paper and a plastic baggie at check in. I spent a good five minutes taking furious notes on where the stops were, and then writing out rough turn-by-turn directions. The parking lot was nearly empty by the time I set out. You have an hour to complete your mission, and the clock was ticking. Time to get running.

At each stop, they hand you a matching set of two raffle tickets. You stuff them in the sandwich baggie and head on to the next stop. At some of the stops, there is a physical challenge that will earn you extra tickets. There were push ups, burpies, obstacle courses, and even a dare to jump into a hotel pool (fully clothed). It was pretty hot back in August, but I was already behind after getting lost and running an extra mile, so I didn't have the time to strip off the electronics and cool off.

You race back to the store by 7:00, and separate your matching tickets, throwing one in the raffle bin. If you sign up in advance so they can get a head count, they give you a ticket for a free beer. As the parking lot felt like a race expo when we started, now it felt like a finish line festival with a beer garden. One of my favorite breweries, Deschutes, provides the beer each month, and I traded my ticket for a cold Mirror Pond Ale. I found a curb to sit on and spread out my tickets for the raffle.

I looked around at the other runner's spread of tickets, and my little stash paled in comparison. I had run some extra miles, and missed two of the stops, but compared to them it felt like I had been running in place. One way to earn more tickets is to buy the Adventure Run t-shirt. If you wear it during the run, you get twice as many tickets at each stop. What I also found out tonight was that all those booths at the start hand out raffle tickets as well, to encourage everyone to check them out. I picked up tickets from about half of the booths tonight, so my stash wasn't quite as embarrassing.

Tonight the sun went down twenty minutes after we set out, so by the time we finished, we were running in the dark. There were lots of headlamps and phone-flashlights out in the beer garden so we could read our tickets.

So not only is it a fun scavenger hunt, with a free beer waiting for you at the finish, but they give away lots of good prizes. I was surprised at how long the raffle went on. Mixed in with goodies like packs of nutrition bars and energy gels, they were giving away running watches, $150 toward shoes, and gift certificates to local restaurants. A couple of times they stopped reading tickets, and just started throwing stuff into the crowd. Pretty fun and crazy.

Tonight I ended up winning a gift certificate for a night's stay at a local hotel. The prize came in an insulated bag good for carrying a lunch to the beach, filled with hotel paraphernalia including a pair of fuzzy slippers. Not sure how or when I will use a stay in a San Diego hotel, but it was kind of fun to win.

I think there is one more Adventure Run in November before they shut down for the winter, but they fire back up in the spring. So if you want to put a little fun in your run, check out their website to see if there is a run in your area. It is a fun, free event, and one more reason to love this running thing.

Olympic inspiration

The Olympics - there really is nothing like them.

I had the chance to catch quite a bit of coverage last week. I was house sitting, and didn't have any plans in the evenings, other than staying up til midnight each day to watch the world's best.

Much of the first week was dedicated to swimming and gymnastics. Though Michael Phelps turned out to be human, and did not repeat his spectacular run in Beijing, he still became the most decorated Olympic athlete in history with his 22 total medals, 18 of them gold. The women seemed even more impressive this year. 17 year old Missy Franklin came away with four golds and a bronze, Allison Schmitt earned a medal of every color in the freestyle, and Rebecca Soni set the world record in the 200 meter breaststroke semifinals, and then broke it again the next day in the finals. Both the men and women capped off the London games by capturing the gold in the team 100 medley, both setting new world records.

In gymnastics, the women dominated in the team competition, earning their first gold medal since 1996. They won by more than five points in a sport normally decided by hundredths. Three Americans took the top four scores in qualifying for the individual all-around competition. One of those, Gabby Douglas went on to win the gold in the individual all around event. The men did not do as well. After coming in first in the qualifying round, the team faltered repeatedly (particularly on the pommel horse) and finished fifth. In the individual all-around, both Americans did poorly on the pommel horse once again, but Danell Leyva managed to claw his way back to a bronze medal finish.

Normally, I don't give much of a rip about swimming or gymnastics, but during the Olympics I am drawn in. I am caught up in the athleticism, focus and dedication these athletes bring to their sport. I find myself leaning in as they push on to the finish, and pumping my fist to celebrate their victory.

Not every sport grabs me. There are more events every year, and some just don't seem to fit. Major sports like soccer and tennis already have their worldwide tournaments, and basketball just seems out of place. Anything that has "synchronized" in the title is also lost on me. Though I know the sports are still incredibly demanding in their physicality and precision, it just seems a little silly. I tuned in one morning to find whitewater canoeing, and I thought to myself, "seriously?" But a few minutes later I found myself cheering on home team Great Britain to an upset gold and silver. Olympic moments just have that kind of pull.

The first week of the Olympics have been great, but I was really looking forward to two events - the women's and men's marathon. This is the one event I can somewhat identify with. I will never approach their performances, but I have at least run in their footsteps and understand what it takes to complete the distance. The women's marathon was yesterday, and it did not disappoint.

The Kenyans and Ethiopians have dominated the marathon for some time now, particularly the men. Since 2001, Kenyan runners have owned more than half of the top 20 times each year. In 2011, they owned them all. They not only won every one of the World Marathon Majors last year, they set course records each time. However, for all their dominance during the year, their record in the Olympics is not nearly as successful. A Kenyan woman has never won gold, and Sammy Wanjiru was the first Kenyan man to capture gold in 2008. The Americans had three strong competitors in the race this year - Shalane Flanagan, Kara Goucher, and Desiree Davila. None had personal bests that matched the Kenyans or Ethiopians, but the Olympics are not like any other marathon. Anything can happen.

The marathon course was a series of twisting loops through London. Commentators expected that many of the runners would stick together for the first couple of laps while they learned the course and looked for best opportunity to break things open. Through the halfway point, a pack of 30 held the lead, including Flanagan and Goucher. Unfortunately, Davila showed up with an hip injury, and pulled out somewhere after mile two.

Soon after mile thirteen, the pace picked up and the crowd thinned. With each mile, more runners fell off the back, unable to match the pace of the leaders. Soon the lead pack was down to six runners, three Kenyans and three Ethiopians. It seemed both inevitable and surprising how clear cut the break was. But a couple of women kept the lead group in sight, including Shalane Flanagan. She couldn't reel them in, but tried to limit the damage, hoping someone would falter.

And then someone else joined the party. Russian runner Tatyana Petrova Arkhipova bridged the gap and joined the group of six as they entered the last eight-mile lap. She looked strong and settled in. Over the next few miles, two of the Ethiopians and one of the Kenyans fell back, and the group was down to four. Flanagan would eventually pass one or two of the stragglers, but was still losing ground to the leaders. Goucher seemed to have disappeared entirely as the commentators never mentioned her. It looked certain that four would stay away, and that only one of them would lose out on a medal.

The group of four ran together until the last mile when Ethiopian Tiki Galena threw in a surge. The four runners who had been running in a tight bunch for so long, stretched out into a line as the finish line approached. Surprisingly, it was race favorite Mary Keitany (who had won the London Marathon in April) who fell off the back. She had looked much more in control than her Kenyan teammate Priscah Jeptoo, but she faded fast. Galena looked over her shoulder once or twice, but the surge had worked and she won the race by the slimmest margin in Olympic history, beating Jeptoo by five seconds. Arkhipova came in seventeen seconds to win the bronze. Galena had set a new Olympic marathon record with her finishing time of 2:23:07.

Though Flanagan had passed some of leaders that had faltered, others caught her and she faded to tenth place in a still great time of 2:25:51. Goucher, who had disappeared from the commentators view, finished just behind her to take eleventh in 2:26:07. Flanagan had collapsed to the ground after finishing, and her teammate and training partner Goucher, helped her to her feet. They walked off arm in arm, heads on shoulders after a great effort.

Like so many other Olympic matches, the women's marathon was inspiring to watch. As I think I have mentioned somewhere before, it was watching Deena Kastor win the bronze medal in the 2004 Olympics that first planted the seed in my head that I wanted to run a marathon. Watching her give it all, refusing to wilt in the Athens heat, and cross the finish line in joyful tears left an indelible impression on me. I could picture the moment in my head, her hands on her face as the emotions of the moment overwhelmed her, falling to her knees just after crossing the line. It spurred me on to go farther than I thought I could.

I looked for a clip of her finish online some years later. You can find nearly anything on YouTube these days, but the Olympic committee is very protective of its footage, so I looked in vain. Then in January of 2008, the movie The Spirit of the Marathon came out in a limited theater release. The movie follows a couple of pros, some amateurs and first timers as they prepare for the 2006 Chicago Marathon. There are interviews with racing legends, a great history of the marathon, and clips of special moments of the sport. And there in the theater, I saw the moment once again that had been living in my head and pushing me along - Kastor crossing the Olympic finish line.

I don't know that it would hit you in the same way it hit me, but if you want to see it, you can watch the movie trailer here. Kastor's finish is in the first minute or so.

Once every four years, the Olympics bring the world together to celebrate human excellence and competition in sport. War, politics and cynicism do not always fade into the background, but at its core the Olympic spirit is there to give us a taste of something better, meeting as equals, trying our best to excel on common ground. We at home embrace their dedication and achievement, and get a glimpse of what is humanly possible. It is inspiring.

Out of the mouths of babes

I had a couple of amusing encounters with kids yesterday.

Kristy and I went out for some cheap drinks and nachos in Old Town. Old Town was one of the first neighborhoods in San Diego, and some of the remaining buildings date from as early as the 1820's. It is now a historical park and a local attraction.

The place was packed with tourists and locals alike, and lines led out the doors and into the streets at nearly every place. With waits running at least 30 to 40 minutes at nearly every restaurant, we backtracked to the Alamo. The Alamo is this cheaper, outdoor place where you walk up to a window to order your food and drinks. But they had heat lamps going, and we found an open table with a built-in firepit. Though not near the nicest place in Old Town, the lack of wait and nice view of the bustling street more than made up for it.

Parking is always at a premium anywhere in Old Town, and with the streets and restaurants filled with people, we lucked out  by pulling in just as someone was about to leave. There was a no-parking zone right behind the car, so I pulled up next to the red curb to wait for him to leave. A BMW right in front of him had his lights on as well, but seemed hemmed in and unable to move.

When the car pulled out, a cute five year old kid was leaning out of a back window of the BMW. He held up his hand asking  me not to pull into the spot that had just been vacated. As his Dad pulled back and forward to get better situated in the spot in front, the little boy smiled and moved his hand back and forth as if directing traffic. When the BMW was properly in place, he gave us the thumbs up to thank us for waiting. We both thought it was pretty damn cute, and when we got out, Kristy complimented him on what a good job he had done. We walked on into the crowd of people with a fresh smile.

Earlier in the day I had stopped into my local Starbucks for some afternoon caffeine. I had worked a ten hour shift with the caterer and had been up since 4:45am. When I was headed back out, I walked ahead of a mother with a stroller and a little girl by her side, all stopped in the lobby. I quickened my step so I could get to the door to hold it open for them. The mom looked up and said "Oh, thanks" and "Come on Honey" as they moved to the door.

The mom passed through first with her stroller, but the little girl slowed then stopped in front of me. She was probably three years old. She looked up at me with a serious but pleasant look and said, "You are such a nice boy." This was not prompted by the mom, who I don't think even heard it. The moment did more to boost me out of my sleepy haze than the caffeine would.

Kids today.

Power of pink

Went for a run yesterday.

My running, like my writing, has been more sporadic than usual. I am running a 5k in a few days, and the marathon is a little more than two months away. I should be logging lots of miles for the marathon, with some speed work sessions to improve my 5k time.

Not so much.

My runs during the first couple of weeks after the Long Beach Marathon felt great. I was surprised at how well I recovered after feeling so terrible at the finish. But November seems to be the month of slumps. I have only been getting out twice a week lately, and I seem to be getting slower. I have been achy and unmotivated and it seems that much harder to get out the door before work.

But the weekend runs have continued, and I went out for a fifteen mile run yesterday. And I found a little inspiration.

Unplanned, I ended up smack in the middle of the Susan G Komen 3 Day Walk for the Cure. During this event, participants walk a total of 60 miles over the course of three days to raise money for breast cancer research. According to their website, they have raised over $1.9 billion dollars since 1982, when Nancy G. Brinker promised her dying sister, Susan G. Komen, she would do everything in her power to end breast cancer forever.

I have a friend that is breast cancer survivor, and we ran a couple of events in her honor when she was sidelined with chemo treatments. We printed up badges with her face on it, and pink was the color of the day. But the 3 Day event was a whole different experience.

I ran along the river path like a salmon swimming upstream through a sea of pink. Thousands and thousands of people dressed in crazy outfits, with silly and suggestive team names walked by. They walked with survivor names and those they had lost emblazoned on their backs. They walked and walked and walked. They just kept coming, and I would run past them for miles.

Hundreds of supporters lined the path handing out refreshments and shouts of encouragement. Pink ribbons and temporary tattoos were passed out like Halloween candy, and a wall of people wore gloves on one hand because they were giving out so many high-fives. It was like a marathon course but more inspiring in a way. The walkers were moving slower, so they could enjoy each supporter individually.

Many marathoners run to raise money for various charities. Team in Training is a staple at most every event, and you can pick them out of the crowd with their purple shirts. They even have their own set of supporters cheering them on. But here at the 3Day, every one of the walkers was there to support their loved ones and raise money for countless other strangers. Every walker was there for someone else.

I was running through, alongside, or within sight of the pink brigade for probably 11 of my 15 miles. I was reminded over and over of the fight that so many are going through, and the strength and power of people gathering for one focus.

My run was a bit of a struggle for my sore bones, but yesterday I had no excuse to quit.

I made a difference to that one

While walking along a beach, an elderly gentleman saw someone in the distance leaning down, picking something up and throwing it into the ocean.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, picking up starfish one by one and tossing each one gently back into the water.

He came closer still and called out, “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young man paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”

The old man smiled, and said, “I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?”

To this, the young man replied, "I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see, it's low tide and they've all been washed up onto the shore. If I don't throw them back into the sea they'll die from lack of oxygen."

Upon hearing this, the elderly observer commented, "But there must be thousands of starfish on this beach, you can't possibly get to all of them. There are simply too many. And what about all the other starfish on the other beaches? You can't possibly make a difference!"

The young man listened politely. Then he bent down, picked up another starfish, threw it into the back into the ocean past the breaking waves and said, “It made a difference for that one.”

The first time I heard the Starfish Story (author unknown), it was on the podcast, Common Sense with Dan Carlin. Dan (a political independent) was using the Starfish Story to describe how people of different backgrounds and political leanings view "Lost Causes". Some look at a problem and feel that it is too big to solve, and that their time and effort is better spent on things that can be completely fixed. Others idealistically plunge ahead believing that if they can just change one life, than it was worth the cost and effort. The Starfish Story was a tidy metaphor.

The second time I heard it, it was more literal and less metaphor. I heard it in connection with Project Wildlife, a non-profit devoted to animal rescue and rehabilitation. Each year, Project Wildlife takes in nearly 10,000 birds and mammals representing 320 species. Wild animals that have been injured, orphaned, or come out of their habitat and into contact with humans. The animals are most often brought in by the public to one of two centers in San Diego County.

Through the spring and summer, a large influx of babies must be nurtured, raised and hand fed by volunteers. The adult animals are brought back to health and released whenever possible. Over 500 people volunteer their time, and over a hundred of those (Kristy included) are rehabilitators who provide pre-release care at their own homes.

Some animals are too injured to fend for themselves, while others have had too much human contact to have the wariness necessary for survival. These are non-releasable and are kept as education animals. They visit schools and other community events to raise public awareness.

Project Wildlife is funded by individual donations, grants and community foundations. Kristy and I attended their big fundraiser two weekends ago. People bought tickets to enjoy an afternoon of wine tastings and food donated by a chef who is also a friend of Project Wildlife. There were silent and live auctions of donated goods with all the proceeds going to support the fight. Some people skipped the auction and gave money for much needed equipment for nothing in return. And the education animals were out to say hello and thank you.

Project Wildlife is one of the largest non-profit wildlife rehabilitation organizations in the United States. They also boast a release rate that is eight percentage points higher than the national average. Hundreds of volunteers spend thousands of hours, and wonderfully supportive patrons spend thousands of dollars to enable this successful effort.

But even though they lead the country, they only succeed 60% of the time. They will never save all the animals that reach their doorstep. They kick ass to save more than half. But every time they go into the woods to release a opossum, or stand on the beach to let a bird fly free, they know, "I made a difference to that one."

For more information, check out their website.

Honoring those who make it possible

The half marathon went well. But before we get to the race report, a powerful scene from the road.

The most memorable stretch of the route is along Lake Washington Blvd. After winding through an industrial area and some neighborhoods, the course runs along the edge of the lake for 3+ miles, and it is one of the few stretches with regular spectators. The scenery is wonderful, and nothing helps you along like a cheering, smiling face. It is the part of the course that keeps us coming back.

But this year it was extra special. The sky was overcast, so there was a weight to the air. No sun sparkled off the water, so I found myself looking up rather than out. Trees line much of the boulevard, and I found myself drinking in the calm green that hovered overhead. The only time I get anything resembling a runner's high occurs in these kinds of moments. A tingling wave of warmth, connection and presence washes over me, and I am happy to be alive and outside.

After running along in my own little revery, I rounded the corner and saw something that grabbed my heart in an entirely different way.

Along the road were a series of pictures. They were of fallen soldiers. I had heard about the sponsoring group, "wear blue: run to remember" in a Seattle Times article the day before. The group was started by some Ft. Lewis wives who lost their husbands to the war. They have found running to be a powerful healing and coping device, and meet regularly to run together. The group has grown to 250, and many would run the race. They started as a group in corral 17 (to honor the 1-17th Infantry), and the names of 43 soldiers were read at the start line.

The group posted the images and names of the soldiers along the course at around mile 7. And just beyond the blue placards there were 43 full sized American flags with a black ribbon listing the soldier's name. It was an incredibly powerful moment for me, my friends and all of the other runners. I can't imagine what it was like when the family of the soldiers ran by.

As we ran by, many of us saluted the pictures and people, and at one point I reached out to touch one of the flags. The pain of running is nothing in comparison.

Incredible.


Check out their website, read about their mission, and see some incredible pictures from the race. www.wearblueruntoremember.org

I don't remember who spoke at my commencement

The Conan O'Brien commencement speech has been posted in several different places, and I finally sat down to listen to it tonight. It is funny, but poignant as well.

He handled his firing at NBC last year with grace, and I quoted him here when he said,

“I hate cynicism. It’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.” 

During the commencement speech he talks about achieving his dream, quickly losing it all, and what he did during the aftermath. The whole thing is worth watching, but some of the high points toward the end are:

There are few things more liberating in this life, than having your worst fear realized...

It is our failure to become our perceived ideal, that ultimately defines us, and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortune, and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound reinvention...

In 2000, I told graduates to not to be afraid to fail, and I still believe that. But today I tell you that whether you fear it or not, disappointment will come. The beauty is that through disappointment you can gain clarity, and with clarity comes conviction and true originality...

There is no greater cliche in a commencement address than "follow your dream". Well I am here to tell you, that whatever you think your dream is now, it will probably change. And that's OK. Four years ago many of you had specific vision of what your college experience was going to be, and who you were going to become. And I bet today that most of you would admit that your time here was very different from what you imagined... 

But through the good, and especially the bad, the person you are now is someone you could have never conjured in the fall of 2007...

I'd like to end my address by braking a taboo, and quoting myself from 17 months ago. At the end of my final program with NBC, just before signing off, I said "work hard, be kind, and amazing things will happen". Today, receiving this honor, and speaking to the Dartmouth class of 2011 from behind a tree trunk, I have never believed that more. Thank you very much and congratulations.

The video is worth your 24 minutes.

A wonderfully lazy start to another year

Friday was my birthday, and it was the beginning of a lovely weekend.

Kristy got up extra early so we could meet for breakfast before she had to head off to work. We went to Cafe on Park, and had pancakes bigger than a dinner plate. Their menu features some odd flavor combinations - Kristy had the Captain Crunch and Blueberry, and I had the Frosted Flakes and Banana. The food, endless coffee and the company made for a great start to the day.

Stuffed to the gills, I went for a walk around Balboa Park. The walk helped to settle my stomach, and the sunshine and beautiful scenery kept the feelings of wonder alive. I found a little walled-off area that honors the Park founders and developers, and sat in the sun for more than an hour reading. 

Even the trees were feeling the love.

I started the day off slow, and planned to take it easy from there.  After a great lunch at Five Guys, I talked with my brother for about a half hour. It had been too long, and it was nice to catch up. Then it was to Starbucks for free cup of coffee and computer time. There was a lovely outpouring of well-wishes on Facebook throughout the day, and I wanted to respond to each one, like sending off a thank-you note for their gifts of friendship.

The lazy-time continued as I headed off to Dog Beach. Even though I didn't have my own pooch with me, it is still one of the happiest places on Earth. I walked around in the surf for a half hour, enjoying the cool waters and romping dogs. I still had time before dinner, so I stopped by a nearby restaurant and had a drink on the patio overlooking the beach while reading my book.

I met up with Kristy, the Lindens and the Hawkins for dinner in Hillcrest. We had a great time at a local Mexican restaurant. The food was great, and the company even better. The only thing that could be possibly be called "missing" in this beautiful day was a little post-party goodness in the quiet of the evening. As Holly puts it on her blog,

Have you ever noticed that's it's often after the party is over that the really good stuff happens? A smaller, more intimate gathering, with the better bottle of wine poured because it can actually serve everyone now. The vibe is of the truest and most relaxed kind. The conversation is more candid and has more depth. The jokes are funnier, and the laughs are bigger and last longer.

I did get to wind down the evening with a special porter that Sean had brewed just for my birthday. It is a tasty brew with a great label co-designed by Sean and Holly.

It was a wonderfully, lazy birthday, made special by dear friends. And the rest of the weekend turned out to be a lovely post-party after all. A relaxing weekend with Kristy, filled with a few firsts to start off my 45th year. 

Happy Mother's Day

For all you do to nurture and raise your children in those quiet and not so quiet moments (why won't my kid stop screaming!?). For all the sacrifices you make each day and each year to put your kids first. For all the appointments and activities you juggle while trying to have a life of your own. For the lessons and love you provide when we don't always deserve it. For all the times we didn't call or say thank you. For being the backbone of nearly every family.

Thank you.

And Happy Mother's Day

Recalibration

I have continued to enjoy reading the3six5posterous for its variety of writers. If something an author writes catches my eye, I often will follow the link to their own blog. Monday's post did not especially grab me, but the author notes (her book title specifically) intrigued me enough to click over:

Christina Rosalie is completing her first book, Life In The Present Tense: A Field Guide To Now, that will be published in 2012. She blogs at MyTopography.com.

After clicking over to her blog, I found this beautiful post/poem on sinking into nature and prayer:

Recalibration

Absolutely worth the click.

The Patriot Guard has arrived

In an 8-1 decision, the Supreme Court held that the Westboro Baptist "Church" is within its rights of free speech to spew anti-gay venom outside military funerals. I put quote marks around church because the congregation seems to be made up almost entirely of relatives of Fred Phelps.

I hesitate to give them any more notice than the media seeking idiots deserve, but a friend passed along a great video today. Of course we do not have to sit and listen to the hate-speech they shout, but if even a whisper reaches the ears of the grieving family in their moment of pain, it is more than enough. They are simply trying to bury their loved one, who gave his or her life in service of their country.

With the help of some veteran supporters, the grieving family doesn't have to tune the "protesters" out. They are blocked and drowned out by men and women who have served our country and know what that sacrifice means.

The video

Welcome back Marty!

As Mondays go, this will be a memorable one for longtime listeners of The Mountain: The old gang is back together.

Marty Riemer, who was summarily shown the door in September 2009 after 12 years at the alternative-rock station, then launched a successful podcast from the basement of his West Seattle home, is returning to The Mountain on Monday. 

(full story at link below).

Familiar radio voices are back on The Mountain

Father and daughter

A cover of "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. You can't help but smile.

"Home is wherever I'm with you."

Braving the elements

OK, I wimped out a bit. It was rainy and windy on Saturday, and I didn't run.

I haven't really had to run in the rain since I moved to San Diego this year, and I have to admit it gave me pause when I woke up to rain and bending trees. Back in Seattle, rain was just a fact of life, and if you didn't run in the rain, well...you didn't run. At most, I would check the weather radar to see if there would be a lull sometime in the next hour. I haven't even bothered to check the weather report for the last few months because outside of the daily high temperature, not much changes.

But I didn't suck it up and go for a run on Saturday. About my only excuse was that my hat and windbreaker were back at the house. It was mostly the wind that I was worried about. Getting wet was not that big of a deal, but once I was soaked, the wind would make it pretty cold. But I still felt pretty lame.

Sunday morning was calm, so I headed out first thing. I went down to Mission Bay Park, and as soon as I pulled in, it was clear there was something big going on. I saw a decorated 15 passenger van, and I flashed back to our Ragnar Relay. But the people were walking and not running, and there was a whole lot of pink going on. It was soon clear that it was the Susan G Komen 3-Day Walk to benefit breast cancer research.

The event is a 60 mile walk over three days to raise funds for the fight against breast cancer. I assumed that this was day three, but didn't know much beyond that. There were tons of women (and a few men) walking along the path, decorated with pink ribbons, buttons and pictures of friends. As I stretched out for my 10 mile run, I realized that they had been walking in the weather on Saturday that made me chicken out. It was confirmed - I was a wimp.

I ran along the path dodging in and out of the walkers and saw many clever outfits and team names. Names like "Hakuna ma Ta-Ta's" and slogans like "Fighting to save second base". There were several supporters handing out food, candy, beads or just cheering the fundraisers on. It wasn't long before it started to rain once again, and the wind picked up as well. It wasn't blowing as hard as Saturday, but it was still a little cutting. Volunteers then started handing out rain ponchos, and the walkers pressed on, ponchos flapping in the wind like flags.

It was inspiring to see all these people of varying ages not only walking these long distances, but braving the elements they probably weren't expecting for a San Diego event. I also have to give high props to the supporters standing in the rain to cheer them on. It is one thing to be participating and moving through the rain, and quite another to be standing still to make sure the participants are as comfortable as possible. A couple of them cheered me on for no other reason than that is what they do.

When I turned around, I was now running against the tide and could see the faces of the people doing the walk. The faces I saw did not seem any different from the people I might see on any random morning. It appeared to be a pretty typical slice of the population. But these people were clearly a little different, willing to take on a significant challenge to honor friends and family who have fought the battle of cancer. To put their comfort second to raise money to fight the good fight.

No wimps here.

Inspirations from the road

A couple of highlights from the marathon:

I noticed an Ironman tattoo on the calf of a guy who was running near or with our pace group. Below the tattoo were five tick marks. A gal and I started chatting him up and asking questions. Since he was running my pace and was about my size, it makes it easier to imagine doing the Ironman myself. As far as race day effort, I had heard that a half Ironman is comparable to running the full marathon. I asked him what he thought. He said that he couldn't tell me since he had never done a half Ironman. He just went straight to the Big Kahuna. Can't tell if that is inspiring or humbling.

I passed a guy in a racing wheelchair around mile five as we were headed uphill over an overpass. On the back of his yellow shirt, he had written in black marker, "Please do not give me a push". Of course nobody did, but most everyone gave him a "you the man" shout of encouragement. I also passed by a man pushing another adult in a full size wheelchair. By all appearances they were a younger version of Team Hoyt. If you don't know the story of Team Hoyt, here is a YouTube video, and also their own website. No question that I was both humbled and inspired by these folks.

As I was struggling through the last couple of miles, I caught up with the half marathon walkers. There was a man and a woman walking a few strides apart, and they had the same laminated sign pinned to their back. It read, "I have already lost 100 pounds, and I am participating in my first half marathon." I patted both of them on the back and told them "Great job".

Even though our pacer fell apart and finished some 35 minutes behind schedule, I found out the woman who was trying to qualify for Boston made it by a single second. And it turns out it was a very good idea for her to take the next day off. Registration for Boston opened on Monday the 18th, and filled up within eight hours. With this kind of demand, I sure hope they don't raise the standards on me.

UPDATE

I found a picture of the younger version of Team Hoyt

A real loser

I don't watch much reality tv, but The Biggest Loser is one I try to catch each week. I find it inspiring to watch people tackle and succeed in a fight they have lost at all their lives. Even though the contestants are trying to win a contest, it is more about changing their lives for the better.

Of course they have the help of professionals, live in a gym, and there aren't many fatty temptations stocked in the fridge. They fight to stay on the show each week not only to try to win, but because it will be tougher to lose the weight outside this bubble.

But they are still doing the work (and lots of it) whether they are on the ranch or if they have been sent home. Not only the workouts, but changing their habits and way of life. These changes are difficult, even though they have sabotaged their health and happiness up until now.

I was at the gym Monday to get in a swim. I am in the two week taper period before my marathon - the time where you are working out less, and freaking out more. You question if you have done enough to prepare, so it can be tough to back off. I was planning on a leisurely swim, just to keep my body moving, but ended up pushing it anyway.

When I finished, a guy in the next lane commented that I was really 'tearing it up', and asked if I was on a swim team. Have to say it made me feel pretty good, and we got to chatting. His name is Tim, and he told me his story. He needs surgery on both of his knees, but his doctor won't do the operation until he loses 100 pounds. There is no reason to fix the knees if the additional weight is just going to damage them again.

He confided that he needs to go from 282 to 180 before the surgery. He is determined to lose the weight, and has even made $20 "bets" with friends and family that he will succeed. He said that he is already up to $500, and will throw a huge party for all his supporters when he succeeds.

He joined the gym 28 days ago - and has been to the gym 28 days in a row. And he has already lost 23 pounds. He was in the pool before I started, and was there when I left. You see these people on tv and YouTube videos changing their lives, and the stories are wonderful. But to be there in person, see the determination in Tim's eyes, and see how far he has already come, it makes it that much more real. And inspiring.

Thank you Cherie

It all started with some sunburned knees.

In the summer of 2002, I was working at the Keg Restaurant as a waiter. My friend Cherie showed up for her bar shift with a pair of sunburned circles on her knees. It was an oddly shaped sunburn so I had to ask. She said she had ridden in the Seattle to Portland (STP) bike ride the previous weekend, and had worn those flexible knee braces the whole way. She didn't think to put sunscreen on before the braces, so she had these neat little red circles on her knees.

She then began excitedly talking about how much fun the bike ride had been, and said she and her Dad were planning on another long ride in about a month and a half. Then the hard sell began that I should dust off the bike that had been gathering rust since I graduated college. Cherie's enthusiasm can be very persuasive, and it wasn't long before I found myself saying, "let's do it!"

The ride turned out to be harder than any of us expected, and we ended up only riding about 60 of the 84 hilly miles, but the challenge and beauty of that first ride had me hooked. Cherie and I would go on to ride many more Tours des Lacs, six STPs, and a few rides to Vancouver, Canada. And of course it ultimately led to my rides down the Pacific Coast and through Glacier National Park.

And it was Cherie who started me running as well. We were at a Super Bowl party in 2005 and she said to me, "grab a glass of wine, I have something I want to talk to you about". Once I had a few sips in me, she said "let's run a marathon!" She had a friend who was a runner and was targeting a marathon in October. I had two brief periods (a few months each) where I jogged once in a while, but it was never anything serious and it had been many years since foot had met pavement.

Once again, Cherie's enthusiasm was hard to resist, but in truth it didn't take much arm twisting. Both the STP bike ride and running a marathon had been one of those vague "someday" notions floating around in the back of my mind. Five weeks later we were running The St. Paddy's Day Dash, a 3.5 mile run from Seattle Center to Safeco Field. It is a great event with some 15,000 festive runners, and the new challenge and race day atmosphere had me hooked once again. We didn't make it to the marathon we had planned for October, but I ended up running ten events of varying distances that year, including my first half marathon. Cherie and I would later run a marathon together in 2007 and 2008.

Whenever we are planning the next biking or running event, or struggling to climb the last hill of a route, we often jokingly say "how'd I let you talk me into this?" Though Cherie was the spark to get into biking and running, I have enthusiastically picked up the gauntlet she threw down (what is a gauntlet anyway). I have done some of my own persuading to sign up for events, so the line of who got us into it gets kinda blurred.

But it is all in jest. I am so glad that I started biking and running, and thankful that Cherie gave me that first enthusiastic push to take them on. It has taken me to some amazing places (both physically and mentally), and I have met some wonderful people along the way. The biking and the running communities are amazingly positive and supportive. Everyone seems to share in your triumphs and setbacks. And the energy of a start line is something everyone should experience at least once.

I received a text message at around 11:30pm Friday night. It was from Cherie and it said, "Getting ready to ride the tour, but something is missing...oh wait, Sean is missing!" She and her Dad were riding the Tour des Lacs again over the next two days. I hadn't been thinking about it, but it was suddenly odd that I wasn't there, riding along with her and her Dad where this all began eight years ago. But it was nice to be in her thoughts, and it was great to hear today about how the ride went.

And that marathon we initially targeted in 2005 but didn't run? It was the Long Beach Marathon, which I will be running in about 26 days. It took five years to finally get to the start line but I will finally complete the journey we started out on.

And, of course, Cherie will be there in spirit. This is all her fault, after all.

The friendly skies

I have moved to flying Southwest Airlines lately. Their prices are generally very competitive, and since they don't charge for checking luggage, there are less hidden charges to think about when pricing a flight. The fact that they don't charge for checked luggage doesn't prevent passengers from trying to cram a suitcase into the overhead bin, but I'm betting it is even worse on other airlines.

And Southwest has an understood culture of having a little fun on the job. There are generally a few jokes during the announcements, probably to prevent you from tuning them out. One of the standard announcements is to put on your oxygen mask before helping another (so you have the ability to help). The Southwest joke is to put on your mask before picking your favorite child to help next.

The crew on the first leg of my trip was just like any other airline, but the second leg had more fun at their job. The gal doing the exits/seatbelt/oxygen mask presentation fastened the 1970's style seatbelt around her head like a headband, and the oxygen mask became a hat. I am sure this not only helps keep her job light and fun, but she can tell who is paying attention by their reaction. Later she walked down the aisle sporting a glue-on black mustache. Even when she was in the jumpseat chatting with another flight attendant, she was all smiles. I have to say, it is great to be around folks who have fun at their jobs (or are at least great at faking it).

Southwest is general admission, with no assigned seats. The earlier you check in, the closer you are to the front of the line to have your pick of seats. I can imagine the folks stepping on the plane when it is partially full, scan the seats for an appropriate seat mate, trying to deduce in seconds whether they want to sit next to this person for a couple of hours. Are they chatty, fidgety, an armrest hog, angry or happy travelers? I was on the flights early, so I was the subject of scrutiny.

Not that I look forward to flying, but I don't really dread it. It is a quiet time of no cell phone or internet access. A time to catch up on reading or writing. I am not a chatty flier, and I ended up drawing similarly quiet seat mates on my two flights. The woman across the aisle was very chatty, and I can only hope the woman in the center seat was interested in passing the time hearing stories about random family members. (I would not have been).

I make a point of being polite and friendly to most everyone in the service industry. They often take the brunt of the public's frustration, sometimes quite unfairly. I greeted the TSA agent checking ID with a smile and a hearty "good morning". She returned the favor by looking at my ID and saying "looks like you've lost weight". Nice way to start the morning and my vacation.

On a flight in December, a passenger started popping off to one of the flight attendants. You could tell he was the type to treat service people as his personal punching bag, dismissing the flight attendant with a wave of his hand. The flight attendant was not willing to take it, but gave the passenger one chance to back off/calm down. When he did not, the flight attendant disappeared for a moment before returning to escort the passenger off the flight. The passenger backpedaled and immediately became conciliatory. The flight attendant kept at him, making sure there would be no further disturbances, before agreeing to let him stay on the plane. The captain actually stopped by five minutes later to make sure there would be no more trouble.

I have to say, it was nice to see them stand up against the rude treatment. The customer is not always right. You have to pretend they are 95% of the time, but there is no reason to accept personal abuse.

Airline flights are getting tougher to enjoy with diminishing leg room, disappearing perks, and added fees, but it certainly could be a lot worse. There was talk a little while ago of allowing cell phones to be active during flights. I hope this never comes to pass. It is one thing to have a seat mate engage you in conversation when you are not interested, but quite another to listen to half a conversation, inches from your ear, with no ability to get away from it.

And there is even talk about charging for carry-on bags and bathroom visits. Please, just give me the price up front, and get me there on time with minimal hassle. I promise to be quiet and behave.