Are we having FUN yet?

Another year and another finish. But it wasn’t pretty.

The weather was great, the fans were terrific, the start was a once in a lifetime experience and I made it to the finish line. Hard to find something to complain about….but you can bet I will.

With every marathon I learn a little bit more about myself and about marathons. Here’s the lessons learned this year:

- All that stuff I said last week about not going out too fast in the first half? I was right. But that didn’t stop me from doing it.
- You can actually limp with both legs at the same time. You just look really strange. But you get a lot of sympathetic cheers.
- When you reach the point where your legs are like lead, your muscles are in knots, and every stride is painful you have to make a decision….You can slow down and hope it hurts less (I can guarantee it won’t AND you will be out here a lot longer) or you can grit your teeth, go into the zone and muscle through it.
- Having your name on your shirt can be great towards the end of the race but is really annoying in the early miles. Every time somebody calls your name you feel obligated to turn, smile, wave your hand and of course check to see if you are really suppose to know this person. Next year I may put a sign on my back that says “Thanks…I’m smiling and waving back on the inside”.
- Boston has the world’s best marathon fans. I already knew that but it was nice to be reminded again this year.

The day started out great with a ride into Boston with a couple of good friends (Bill and Christine) where we were invited to hitch a ride with one of the charities on their luxury bus (a real treat given the alternative is being crammed in a school bus for over an hour). When we got to the staging area (what they call the runner’s village) we got to stay on our warm bus while most of the 26,000 runners had to wait outside in a practice field lined with porta-potties. It’s actually pretty interesting to watch how runners deal with waiting for hours for the start of their race. Some were up dancing, others were getting temporary tattoos, some getting their pictures taken by a Boston Marathon sign, some taking pictures of people taking pictures of runners and in general a lot of camaraderie, water drinking and repeat visit to the porta-potties.

There are a number of starts to the race…wheelchairs first, then a woman’s elite, then the first half of the main field (10 AM) and then finally the rest of us (10:30). Each runner has a number that corresponds with the corral that they have to be staged in at the start. There are fences along the road for over a quarter mile that will keep anyone but the runners from getting into the staging areas and each runner’s number is checked to make sure they are in the right corral. The goal is to prevent slow runners from trying to move up towards the front and getting in the way of the faster paced runners. The corrals for 13,000 runners will extend back over a quarter mile (yes the people in the back have to walk/jog that quarter mile after the gun is fired just to get to the starting line).

A half hour before your starting time you hand your bag of clothes and things you want at the finish to the bag handlers on school buses so they bring them to the finish line for you. Then, if you are like me, you don a trash bag to keep you warm as you make the half to ¾ mile walk from the runner’s village to the runner’s corrals. A lot of runners wear older running clothes which they strip off just before the start and toss them to volunteers on the side of the road. The Salvation Army collects an 18 wheeler full of clothes from the start.

Luck of the draw…my number was in the first corral of the second wave. For the first, and probably only time in my life, I got to be standing in the front row of runners at the starting line when the gun was fired for the second wave of the Boston Marathon. It was the equivalent of being a passenger in the back of the plane for years and suddenly the pilot asks you if you would like to come up to the cockpit for the takeoff. And while the thrill was short term, the resulting consequences lingered for hours. When the gun went off all the cooped up adrenaline, the excitement of the race, the thrill of being upfront leading a pack of thousands of runners goes straight to your legs. Add a very healthy downhill and you have the ideal situation for an overzealous start.

One of the challenges in a run is settling into your own pace. What helps is settling into that pace with other runners that are also running your pace. When there is no one in front of you and everyone around you is running hell bent for election you just get swept along with the crowd. I knew I was in trouble when I hit the 2 mile mark a full minute ahead of my pace and I immediately put on the breaks. Unfortunately once you have settled into a pace it is really hard to slow down and find a new one. Especially when everyone around you is blowing by you. It was 10 miles before I finally settled in and by then I knew I was in big trouble. At the half way mark I was a full 3 minutes ahead of last year’s pace and this year, because of the knee, I had fewer long runs and was less trained than last year.

Just shy of 16 miles is the low point and then for the next 5 miles you climb. By the time I got to these hills the legs were a mess. The right knee and hip were vying with the left hamstring and IT band to see which ones could get more of my attention. When I passed my sister Terry and nephews (Ian, Lucas and Madigan) at a little after 16 (thank goodness they were there…needed the moral boost) they said I looked stiff. They were being kind. I looked like one of those cartoon stick figures trying to run with no knees.

The remainder of the race had to be one of the longest last 10 miles I have ever run. Nick and I ran them together taking them one mile at a time with no expectation that we would be able to keep going beyond this mile, but trying not to think about anything but making to the next mile marker, or water stop, or street corner, or maybe just to that telephone pole. I was totally in the zone.

So when the finish line showed up, it was more relief and surprise that I made it than it was enthusiasm for the success of the run. The finishing time, as good as it was, was overshadowed by the mental effort and physical pain it took to get there. There’s no question that if you want to enjoy the marathon, especially the thrill of engaging with the crowd over the last few miles, the right way to do it is by running negative splits (the second half faster than the first).

I was stopped by one of the news crews at the finish line with a couple of questions. If you would like to see the video click on http://www.necn.com/pages/landing?blockID=219232 . I'm about 2 minutes in just after the Hoytes.

A month or so ago I mentioned the growing interest by runners in running barefoot as a result of the recent book “Born To Run” by Christopher McDougall. While I didn’t see any barefoot runners this year I did see a number wearing the new Vibram Five Finger running shoes (they are like rubber form fitting running slippers). Christopher, who made a generous donation to CAH, left a note that if I ran the last mile barefoot he would increase the donation. I actually thought about it at that last mile marker but I was afraid if I stopped and sat down to take off my shoes I wouldn’t be able to get up again. Stay tuned…next year I may be doing it in Vibrams.

As for how I’m doing right now? I’m just glad someone invented handrails for going downstairs. Otherwise I’d look really funny bumping down the stairs on my butt. To limit the pain and shorten the recovery time I took a page from the Marque de Sade school of training and climbed into a tub of ice when I got home. I’m not sure how much good it did but the initial shock made me forget all about the pains in my legs. I expect by tomorrow or the day after I’ll be able to get out of a chair or my car on the first try and then I can think about starting up again.

Well, here we are, another year gone by, another Boston Marathon, another fast enough time so I’m qualified to do it all again next year. But most important, another year I got to keep Nick’s memory alive, to share the effort with friends, family and colleagues and to do something that can help others less fortunate. Despite the pain, the cold mornings training and hours of lost sleep I consider myself blessed to be able to do this and fortunate to be surrounded by friends who care enough to support me.

Until next year…stay well and God bless.

Ya can't drive around with a tiger in your car

It’s been a tradition over the last 4 years choose the title of the last blog before the marathon from a verse in the Roger Miller song, “You can’t roller-skate in a buffalo herd” (on YouTube if you actually care ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KI-8hst0bho . This will be the last year. Promise! I’m running out of verses anyway…although we could have used “You can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage”. That’s one that has never been on my life list of things to do.

So here we are, a couple of days before the marathon and in Boston the excitement is building everywhere. I went into Boston to get my number and the finish line is painted on Boylston Street, the stands are being built, signs are up everywhere touting the marathon and welcoming runners, and on every street I passed runners warming up, sightseeing, taking pictures and of course, eating. When you drop over 26,000 runners into the center of Boston they can’t help but be a dominant presence. That’s right, there will be over 26,800 of us at the starting line in Hopkinton on Monday morning. A town whose regular population is around 2700. Like hosting a party where everyone invited invites 10 friends .

Standing in line to get my number and T-shirt you can’t help but get excited. Everywhere you go strangers are yelling out “good luck Monday”, or “congratulations on getting here”. It’s like being a rock star. But along with the excitement you can sense the nervousness. Most runners have trouble sleeping the night before. I always get nervous the last few days before the race. Truth is, there is nothing you can do in the last week that is going to improve your odds of finishing and a thousand things you can do to screw things up. And it’s not as if I’m in it to win it. I have a much better chance of winning the lottery than I do of winning the marathon. Or for that matter beating the first woman or even finishing in the top half of the runners. Heck I’ll be lucky to have the knee hold up and finish under 4 hours. And having done this more than a dozen times you would think I’d be pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I guess after all the training, the long runs on cold dark mornings, the icing of body parts that keep reminding you you’re too old for this, you just want everything to go smooth.

But there is also the deep desire not to let down any of the friends and family who have supported me throughout, or the families I’m running for at CAH. And most of all not to let down Nick. I promised him I would Live Life Large and I know he will be out there running with me Monday.

The big unknowns with Boston are the last minute aches and pains, the weather and the logistics of getting to the start on time. Not much you can do about the first two but the last one has many of us paranoid runners who have slept through an alarm, checking the clock every hour during the night. The other big risk is starting out too fast. Boston is a downhill marathon, although you would never know it when you hit the hills in Newton. Over the first 4 miles the race drops 300 ft (the equivalent of a 30 story building). You can imagine what it is like to be cooped up on a starting line waiting to go, adrenalin pumping, legs getting antsy, and the gun fires and you are off…downhill. It’s like the horses coming out of the gates at the Kentucky Derby. The two biggest mistakes a marathoner can make…particularly in Boston are not drinking enough water early and going out too fast. And for the latter, the downhill start doesn’t help. Between miles 4 and 15 the marathon is rolling but the elevation doesn't change much. There is a big drop in mile 15 to one of the lowest points in the race and at mile 16 the climb starts. Over the next 5 miles you will climb the height of that 20 story building through a series of 4 hills each ranging in length between a quarter and a half mile. The last one, and the steepest, is Heartbreak Hill. There have been years I have cruised through these hills with some of the fastest miles of the race and other years where I have been heard to say “please just shoot me now”. On Monday I hope to be somewhere between the two.

So I have two goals going into this weekend. To finish the Boston Marathon for the fourth year in a row and to make my contribution goal for CAH. I’ll take care of the first but I could use a bit of help with the second. http://www.firstgiving.com/davidfowler3

And as for Roger’s song….what I love most is his chorus.

All you gotta do, is put your mind to it

Knuckle down,

buckle down,

do it, do it, do it

It will be what I’m singing as I’m coughing up my lungs on Heartbreak hill.

Thanks to everyone for the kind words of support and encouragement as well as the donations. There is nothing I can say that even comes close to letting you know how much it all means to me and to so many families.

PS: Much like last year, if you are totally bored or have a morbid streak, you can track my progress during the race either by registering for updates on a mobile phone or email. Click on the link below and it will give you instructions for both. My race bib number is 14750.

http://registration.baa.org/2010/cf/RegAthleteAlert/pg_AthleteAlert.cfm?mode=preentry&snap=27013484&.

I should be crossing the starting line sometime around 10:35 and if all goes well I’ll be done just after 2:30.

Pain is Relative.....

I once heard someone say “Success is relative….the more success, the more relatives.” Some might say the same for Pain….the more relatives the more pains. I would never say that. I love my relatives. Especially the ones that donate to my marathon charities (sometimes subtle doesn’t work with them).

But as you might imagine the real topic of this blog is not about relatives. I promised myself that after three years of moaning and whining about injuries leading up to the marathon that this year I was going to be conspicuously quiet no matter what. The fact that my credibility was totally shot after managing to complete the 26 miles (and 385 yards) all three years despite injuries had a bit to do with it. And of course it was easy to make that promise early on in my training seeing as for the first time in 4 years I was in Feb. feeling good and ahead of last year’s training schedule.

In reality, almost anyone can run a marathon. It’s strictly a question of how much pain you are willing to endure to achieve the goal. I’ve mentioned in past blogs that your body fuel and shoes give out on you somewhere around 17 to 19 miles (earlier if you don’t do the training) and at that point it is strictly a matter of mental toughness and stubbornness that keep you going. For the next hour or so you are waging a battle with your body that resembles a World Wrestling Federation title bout. In this corner in the white running shorts we have the Captain of Confidence, the Top Dog of Training, the Prime Minster of Stubbornness our hero “The Finisher”. In the opposing corner, we have the Prince of Pain, the King of Cramps, the Injector of Insecurity, the challenger “Race Terminator”. Somewhere after 13 miles the battle between the two gets into full swing. At this point your training, the weather, how fast or slow you might have started out, how much (or little) liquids you took early on all factor into your ability to keep the Race Terminator at bay. On a good day you can keep him on the ropes until you reach that 17-18 mile mark. Then the second half of the race begins. It doesn’t help that in Boston, just as you need something to help you keep going you find yourself in the middle of 5 miles of hills. Heartbreak is the perfect name. It’s a body slam both mentally and physically.

From here on it is not a question of whether you are in pain, only a question of how much. From an early age our bodies teach us that when you are doing something and it hurts…don’t do that. Part of marathon training is teaching your body to deal with the pain without panicking. It doesn’t mean the pain goes away, it just means “The Finisher” is able to stay ahead of the incessant mental niggling of “Race Terminator”. The hard part is knowing the difference between pain that is permanent damage to your body and pain that is temporary from overuse and fatigue. The original Greek marathoner actually ran himself to death.

There is an old song I remember singing as a kid that went something like this…”The knee bone is connected to the thigh bone. The Thigh bone is connected to the hip bone.” . Back in late Feb. I couldn’t help but think of this song as I went out to run one morning and the pain from the knee and hip of my right leg stopped me flat. I still don’t know what happened. I could blame it on doing a long run and climbing on an airplane and flying for 6 hours (we all know what it’s like to be jammed into one of those seats designed for people less than 5 feet tall) but I actually have no idea . All I know is that the knee bone is connected to the thigh bone and the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone and in my body they are all yelling at each other. So I took two weeks off hoping that would help and then started up running again with a few miles every other day. The pain hasn’t gone away but with the help of ice, Aleve, a knee brace and a much slower pace, I have learned to deal with it and as of today I believe I can cover at least half the distance. At that point I will be well into the battle with the “Race Terminator” and the jury is out on who will win this time. I have one thing going for me…. Pam says I can be one of the most stubborn people in the world.

It occurred to me that often what keeps me going in the later stages of the race is knowing how much farther I have to go to get to the end. Can you imagine what it would be like if you were facing significant life challenges and could never see an end in sight? I can’t even begin to guess what it is like to be trapped in a situation where no matter what you do you can’t see a way to the finish line. Sometimes we just need people to point us in the right direction, show us there is a way out and give us a helping hand to get us there. That’s what Citizens for Adequate Housing does. It’s not just about a place to live; it’s about teaching life skills and helping families find their way to self sufficiency. To see the finish line or at least a way to get there. And while the analogy is a bit of a stretch, your donations are like the spectators on the side of the road, giving encouragement and water to help get to the finish line. It’s hard for me to separate the support you give me to get to the finish from the support you are giving to help others face their “Race Terminator”.

Thanks to everyone who has helped with support and encouragement. I know it is a tough year for everyone but please help if you can. http://www.firstgiving.com/davidfowler3
In the mean time I’ll be out there slogging the last of my miles as that crazy song goes round and round in my head. “The knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone. The thigh bone’s connected…”

Till next time…

Entering the Age of Loss

While I was running the other morning, and still waking up (thank goodness there were no cars on the road), I realized I had suddenly passed into a new age in my life: the Age of Loss. I figure that is the point where you suddenly realize that you are losing things. I don't mean the TV remote control, your glasses, your cell phone or the car keys (all of which I swear I put down where I always do and someone came along and moved them). The big wake up call was the realization that I had reached an age where age itself was stealing from me. Loss of hair, loss of muscle tone, loss of good looks (my son Matt would say you can't lose what you never had), loss of stamina, loss of hearing (beyond my current “selective” hearing loss), loss of eyesight, and loss of memory (at times that may be a blessing). Hmmm…where was I going with this?

Oh Yeah…I also realized there's a ying and a yang to the Age of Loss, things you lose and things you gain as well. Like a few extra pounds here and there, wrinkles, more forehead, blood pressure, wisdom (some people anyway) and an ever increasing collection of aches and pains.

Actually what got me started on this train of thought was the news that a dear uncle of mine had passed away. Some people pass through your life and while you have fond memories of your time with them, they never leave a mark. My uncle Ray not only left a mark he helped to define who I have become. Certainly not as much as my immediate family but in ways that only someone outside your daily life could. At his military funeral I was talking to friends and family about not seeing each other these days except at funerals. It use to be at weddings. Welcome to the Age of Loss.

You might ask, what does this have to do with running and the marathon. I’m glad you asked. Acknowledging I have moved into a new phase meant acknowledging that my best running years are long behind me. That despite my belief that I still have one more good marathon in me, just surviving the marathon and not being carried off in a wheelchair is going to be the best I can hope for. Heck, just surviving the training and getting to the starting line without ending up in traction might be my new goal. It is interesting how the body recognizes its age long before the mind will acknowledge it.

But it also struck me that the Age of Loss is not just an age thing. We all know people who have suffered losses early in their lives. The death of a parent, sibling, or friend; loss of a parent to divorce, loss of a job, a home or maybe even a place to live. There are few things more heart wrenching to me than thinking about being a parent who can’t provide my children with a bed, clothes or even an expectation on where the next meal will come from. The loss of a sense of security and hope must be overwhelming.

So the ying and yang of my Age of Loss is while I’ve lost the ability to get through my marathon training without looking like the hunchback of Notre Dame, I’ve gain the opportunity to use my running and friendships to help put children in a bed, food in their stomachs, a smile on their parent’s face and a bit of hope back in their lives. To me that’s a net gain any way you look at it.

Running Shoes are for Wussies

Over the summer my son-in-law Marshall (the one that married Heather and ran the Boston Marathon with us 2 years ago) gave me a book “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall. Although I have read a few, I’m not big on running books. Mostly they tend to be a lecture on running style or tell me how great it is to run my first race or wax eloquently on the beauty of running in (pick your favorite place). Been there, done that…don’t need to read about it.

But this book was different. It’s an adventure story, mixed with facts about running, and interesting characters. What’s more it has established a ground swell of interest in a new way of running. Barefoot. Yeah, I rolled my eyes and started laughing too when I first thought about it. Can you imagine going out on the streets of LA or NY or DC without socks and shoes? Within a quarter mile you would be hopping around yowling with something stuck in your foot like a scene from the three stooges. And when was the last time you had to walk across hot pavement or sand on your way to a pool/ocean on a hot summer day. Brings up memories of Dudley Moore in the movie 10 when he has the beach boy carry him to the water to avoid burning his feet. How about that for 5 or 6 miles? Or my favorite….running in a New England winter on roads that are so cold that I swear some mornings the rubber on the bottom of my shoes is going to crack. And don’t even begin to ask me about barefooting in the snow.

But after reading the book I have to say it raises some interesting questions. Did you know that one of the winners of the Boston Marathon, Ellison Tarzan Brown, ran the last seven miles of the marathon barefoot because the heat from the streets had made his feet too hot in the shoes. I was somewhat was surprised to find that last year a guy ran the Boston Marathon barefoot (only somewhat surprised because there are a lot of strange people running Boston….beside me that is). He wasn’t the first and judging from all the hype around barefoot running there will be a lot more in the coming year. Not to be outdone, Harvard had to get in on the craze. A recent Harvard study reinforces the information in McDougall’s book that humans ran for centuries without shoes and for more centuries without the highly padded shoes that through the marketing genius of Nike, appeared in the early 70’s. How’s this for data…30% of regular runners get injured every year. If the high tech, infinitely padded, motion controlled, gel filled running shoes are so good for us, why are so many of us injured all the time.

One more data point, almost all running shoes, no matter how much you pay for them, give up the ghost in terms of cushion, when you get around 18 miles (yupp…just when you need them most and every downhill step feels like someone pounding a nail into your quads). After that you could be wearing street shoes. But at this point I’m not ready to give up my running shoes although I’m giving it serious consideration as I again ice my hamstring. Heather and Marshall have shifted to Vibram Five Fingers which are a form of rubber running slippers that protect your feet but give you the sensation of running barefoot.

So, if you find this interesting I’d suggest giving the book a read. Actually the story is even more interesting than issue of barefoot running. And while you are thinking of barefoot running and the winters in New England if you can help out the charity I’m running for it would be greatly appreciated. Their goal is to prevent families from either sleeping or walking barefoot in the cold. Here's the link http://www.firstgiving.com/davidfowler3

Till next time….

"On the Road Again" - Boston 2010

On the Road Again…and Again…and Again

It’s that time of year again when the snow flies, the ice piles up on the roads and masochistic running junkies like me head out into the weather to get in their Boston Marathon training. Ahhh the pleasure of coming back from a brisk winter run with icicles hanging from your mustache and hat, the warm and soothing ache of feeling your fingers and toes reform their molecular structure from frozen to flesh, the joy of scraping frozen Gatorade from your jacket where you missed your mouth at mile 5 and the pleasure of listening to your wife’s supportive welcome home message “don’t touch anything until you shower and burn those clothes….and no I don’t want a hug”.

In truth, it’s not that bad. In only half the runs does it really get that cold. The other half are colder. But I like the cooler weather. No bugs, you don’t sweat as much, don’t need as much water, and once you get warmed up you feel…well…invincible.
It could be worse. I read an awesome book over the summer, “Born to Run”, that advocates that running shoes are the source of most injuries and that running barefoot is the answer. Try that in the snow. But more on that in the next blog.

So, while training for Boston thru a Boston winter is a challenge, especially while holding down a high tech job, it is not nearly the challenge that many people go through on a daily basis to find a job to support their family, or rescue their children from an abusive relationship, or struggle to find a place to live other than their car, or to fight the demons of drugs and alcohol, or to support a mentally or physically handicapped child or to face another day of depression and hopelessness. I consider myself blessed and as long as my legs will hold up and I can do something to help I will be out on those roads, growing icicles, leaving footprints in the snow, freezing my butt off and considering myself lucky.

As the Willie Nelson song goes, I’m “On the Road again”. I know times are tough for everyone so this year I'm even more grateful for your support both verbally and financially (you can donate to Citizens for Adequate Housing at http://www.firstgiving.com/davidfowler3). And if this message finds you struggling please remember you are not alone and there are people out there working to offer a helping hand, ear and more.

Till next time....

I MADE IT!!!

OK…so some of you are saying, “yeah….so what’s new”. That’s fair.

I’ve done it more than a dozen times before and through some tough circumstances over the last two years but between you and I, this was the year I had the most doubts that I would even get to the starting line. So while it sounds strange, I am probably the most surprised that I made it.

Much like last year I had the pleasure of riding on a bus to the start with my fellow Hunger Strikers (who raised over $80K this year for the Lazarus House food pantry). Getting a bus to the start sounds like no big deal but for a marathoner it is a pleasure that rivals taking a limo to your senior prom. To contrast it, most runners have to catch a 6AM school bus out of Boston for a long, crowded, bone jarring ride out to Hopkinton (made all the more enjoyable by the famous MA potholes). After banging you knees on the seat in front of you for an hour and a half you have the privilege of sitting around in the sports field of the Hopkinton high school in 35 degree temperatures for 2+ hours with 20,000+ other runners who have little to do but swap running stories, discuss the weather and what they should wear, drink water, make port-a-john visits, re-tie their shoes a half dozen times, get more nervous, drink more water, make more port-a-john visits (you have some of your best conversations in line at the port-a-johns).

As a quick aside, there is a science to making your last potty visit just before the race starts so you don’t have to make a pit stop during the race. This is further complicated by the fact that you have to be in the starting area 15-20 minutes before the gun goes off. Given there are a limited number of units and thousands of people all trying to go at the same time, timing is everything. For an old guy like me who has had his pipes bounced around a lot over the last 50+ years, this is an important issue. I had a dream one year that I was locked in one of the port-a-johns when the gun when off. Scary.

I, on the other hand, got to board a bus near my house, ride in comfort to the high school with my teammates, and then we get to stay on the warm bus until it’s time to head down to the start. It’s the fifth best part of the day (thanks for the pictures Alan).

Then it’s time and we make the half mile trek down to the starting area which is broken up into one thousand person corrals based on your number. There are two waves to the start, 10 am for the 14,000 fastest runners and 10:30 for the remaining 12,000 or so. As you head down to the start you pass busses where you can leave spare clothes that they take to the finish for you. Picture this…I’m walking down this residential side street with 14,000 other runners and I hear my name. Walking next to me is Bob Mackin who works with me at VidSys. Life is funny that way sometimes.

While being in the first wave shaved a half hour off my waiting around for the start, I was 13477 of 14000 runners. I was so far back from the starting line that spectators arriving were asking if there was a shuttle from there to the start. In truth, it doesn’t affect your time (you have a timing chip on your shoe that tracks your actual race time from when you cross the start), but if I ever collapse in the last 1/3 of the mile before the finish I expect to get credit for the distance.

Finally the gun goes off and 8 minutes later I cross the starting line…the fourth best part of my day. And as I’m pounding down the first hill I suddenly realize my timing on the last potty run was too early…I’ve gotta go. For a couple of miles I think “I can hold it” . Delusional. There are port-a-johns along the route but I have an aversion to standing in line to pee when I’m supposed to be running and the clock is. Lots of people jump into the woods along the road but you need to do this in the first couple of miles, after that you are mostly in cities or populated areas (people frown on runners peeing on their petunias). Just after the 5k mark ( 3+ miles for you metric challenged readers) I spotted a construction site with some portable units and made a quick detour. It didn’t make my list of the 5 best parts of my day but it wasn’t far off.

Back on the course things went well until about 15 miles. I knew I was in trouble strength wise at half way but I had been running better than I had expected and while the hamstring was tightening up I was able to keep it under control by shortening the stride and lowering the pace. The real challenge at 15 was the right knee. I suspect favoring the left hamstring and the pace over the first half were a bit too much for it. I made it to 16 miles where my family was waiting and that gave me a big boost…my second best part of the day (thanks Pam, Betsy, Tiff, Matt, Allie, Drew, Ian, and Terry…you are the best).

At that point, just as I entered the heartbreak hills I went into “the zone”. This is the period where you start to focus inward on what you need to keep your body moving . It’s hard to explain but imagine getting so focused on something that you can tune out everything around you. The gremlins kick in big time. “What are you doing out here, you are too old.” “Walk a while , you will feel better.” “ It’s no big deal if you don’t finish.” Being in the zone helps to turn down the volume on the gremlins. You start to make deals with yourself… to get to the next mile marker, then to the top of the next hill, then to the next street corner, then to the next telephone pole. Up-hills are painful, down-hills are worst.

And then you are there. First it’s the sight of the Prudential Center, but you are still 3 miles away. Then the 25 mile marker and only have 1.2 miles to go. You know you can make it even if you have to do the marathon shuffle, walk or even crawl. The gremlins are gone, the pain is not, but the crowd is like morphine. You start looking for the right turn onto Hereford and the hundred yard stretch that will take you to the left onto Boylston Street. And as you make that last turn it is overwhelming…you can see the finish line, the crowd is cheering at an insane volume, you get a burst of energy and emotion and your pace picks up. I swear they move the finish line back every year. It seems to take forever to make that last quarter mile+ …and then we are there. We made it. The best part of the day.

I say “we” because I couldn’t have made it without the support of too many of you to mention here. But know that I carried you in my heart and it helped me when I was in the zone. My son taught me that “living life large” is more important than “living life long” and you have all helped me add to my life experiences and honor his memory. For that I will never be able to thank you enough.

I also want to says thanks again to all of you who have made donations to CAH and Lazarus House. You have not only supported me but given hope and support to numerous families who at this point are struggling to make a new life. You should be proud of yourselves…you may not see it directly but you have made a difference.

OH…and for those counting…the third best part of the day…climbing into bed that night.

Wishing you great life experiences in the coming year.

Dave

Can't go swiming in a Baseball Pool

It's become a tradition over the last three years to title my last blog before the marathon from the Roger Miller song "You can't roller skate in a buffalo herd" (now on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KI-8hst0bho). As I was hunting through the verses of the song to find an appropriate phrase it struck me how much the song resembles the way we look at life at times....through the eyes of the "you can't". You couldn't possibly get that job with your experience, you can't...make the team, make the Olympics, win your event, stop smoking, survive being homeless, climb a mountain, walk again, beat cancer, run a marathon...with one leg. The world is full of "you can't".

When I went into Boston today to get my number I stood in line behind a middle aged woman running her first Boston Marathon. She told me when she started running a little over 3 years ago she could barely make a quarter mile. The first time she entered an organized run it was only a mile. She finished third in the "Heffers Division". They literally made her get on a scale (talk about a left handed complement...like saying you don't sweat much for a fat person). Just before her first marathon she was told she had cancer. She ran anyway. Now as a cancer survivor she is running her first Boston and has raised over $12,000 for the Dana Faber Cancer Institute.

In two days about 26,000 people who fought off the "you can't-s" will line up to run 26.2 miles and every one of them has a story (and probably more than one).

Like Susan Hurley, our team organizer, mother hen and one of my favorite people. You may remember from last year's blog that Susan fell a few weeks before the marathon and shattered her hand and fingers. She didn't let that stop her and ran with a cast on and metal rods sticking out of her fingers (looked like Freddy Kruger from "Friday the 13th"). This year one charity wasn't enough for her so she was organizing and managing two (Lazarus House and Go Kids) and has been running with both teams.

Or how about John O'Connor from neighboring Bradford, MA who will start running Sunday Night and run the Boston Marathon route 3 times before showing up at the starting line in Hopkinton to start officially with the rest of us for his 4th marathon of the day (that's right...4 Boston Marathons, 104.8 miles ). He is running to raise money for wounded solders from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Then there's Bill Pennington, our Lazarus House Hunger Strikers coach. He has advice, experience and kind words for everyone from the first timers to us veterans. Like EF Hutton...when Bill talks, I listen. And if you ever need company on a long run, Bill's the guy. He's got more stories than the Brothers Grimm. This will be his third year in a row coaching and running for Lazarus House.

Kelly Buckley is running her first. I met Kelly at Lazarus House when were serving lunch together in the soup kitchen 2 years ago. I was training for the marathon at the time and she expressed an interest in doing it some year. This year is her year. She has raised $5000 for Lazarus House. You can see news video of Susan, Bill and Kelly talking about Lazarus House at http://wbztv.com/sports/food.pantry.boston.2.979947.html (just click on the picture of the three runners on the top right).

Then there's Dave McGillivray who is the race director for the Boston Marathon. Dave will be running his 38th Boston Marathon in a row this year.....this time with broken ribs. If that isn't hard enough, Dave spends the day managing the race and then when it is pretty much over, drives out to Hopkinton and runs the race himself...mostly in the dark. He is a truly inspirational person who has worked hard to make the Boston Marathon not only the world's best marathon but also an awesome machine for raising funds for charities.

Speaking of inspirational heroes, in addition to Dave, one of my long time marathon heroes has been Bill Rodgers. It was Bill's series of Boston Marathon wins in the mid-late 70's that got me started running Boston. I had the opportunity to chat with Bill (see the picture above) a couple of weeks back and exchange stories of those early days of marathoning for both of us (his were much more successful than mine). At 61 he will be running Monday in his first marathon in a decade.

But not everyone who starts down the path actually makes it to the start. I had the privilege of running with Christine Andersen back in Feb. and she helped me through a difficult time with my injury. At the time she was not only running well but fast (I could barely keep up). The amazing thing is Christine has raised almost $10,000 for Lazarus House while being a mother, Doctor, and marathoner. Unfortunately Christine will be sitting this one out with a hip injury. We will miss her.

My story starts with doing something every year that celebrates Nick's memory. A little over three months ago I was trying to decide if I should even try to do the Marathon this year. I hadn't run in over a month (what my wife describes as the month from hell), was struggling with a hamstring injury that just would not quit, and wasn't sure if I started running again if I would have enough time to get ready. My long run the first week of Jan. was a tortoise-like 1 mile. But Monday I will be there on the starting line and while I am the least trained I have ever been going into the race and the hamstring is still giving me fits, I'm convinced I CAN make it to the finish (though it may not be pretty).

So back to the Roger Miller song and my mantra for Monday:

All you gotta do, is put your mind to it
Knuckle down,
buckle down,
do it, do it, do it

Thanks to everyone for the kind words of support and encouragement as well as the donations. There is nothing I can say that even comes close to letting you know how much of a positive impact you have had on so many people's lives.

PS: If you a morbid streak and care to track my progress during the race you can go to http://www.baa.org/ and put in my number 13477. I should be crossing the starting line sometime around 10:20.

Hope is a 4 letter word

What makes Boston such a great marathon is the crowds. While making it from the start to the finish may not rank as a significant event for most people, to the runners who have spent months preparing for this day there is a lot of personal investment tied up in the goal. And the hundreds of thousands of smart spectators in Boston know this. In the old days, when the number of runners were smaller, the Boston Globe use to print all the runner's names and numbers in the morning paper. Spectators would make a game out of looking up the numbers and yelling out the names of the runners along with encouragement. There's nothing sweeter at the 21 mile mark than hearing your name called out along with "looking great, nice job" (except maybe a handful of jelly beans). It doesn't even matter how bad you feel, or that you really look like road kill, it gives you a bit of a lift. Since those days I've started putting my name on my shirt. Yeah it's a cheap trick but it works and I'll take any help I can get to make it through the day. And on this day it is a team effort, the support of the crowd, the support of the volunteer medical teams, and the support of the water stop crews all contribute. We just have to do the running.
I was out for a run the other day and I was thinking (there's a scary thought...guy on the windy (as in crooked...not blustery) back roads, in the dark, thinking instead of paying attention to dodging cars) about what keeps people going when they face all kinds of setbacks. My wife will tell you that in my case sometimes it's pure stubborn single mindedness. Certainly that has gotten me through more than a few marathons in the past.

In marathon training, hope plays a big role. I hope if I put in the training and get enough long runs I will be ready on marathon day. I hope it doesn't rain, or snow, or is too hot. I hope I don't get blisters or hurt before the race or on race day. But in most cases this is just wishful thinking. So what if does rain, or you get tripped in the crowd at the start or you get a cramp in your neck while trying to check out the girls lining the route in Wellesley (not that it would ever happen to me...but I know this guy...). How we handle adversity when our fondest hopes or wishes don't come true defines who we are. Certainly training in New England winters gives you plenty of opportunity to test that theory.

But HOPE also has a different meaning. Wikipedia defines it as an emotional state different from positive thinking. Hope is the emotional life jacket that we hang on to when everything around us seems to be crumbling. The real test of the word is when you face those really hard times that life throws at you like the loss of a job, your home, a child or spouse, or a long term or critical illness. Often times it is the HOPE that if I keep moving forward things will get better.

Ever notice how much easier it is to get your "hopes up" when you are surrounded by teammates, or family, or fellow workers supporting you? I like to think about hope as a light that needs power to shine. Everyone can give a bit to it themselves but it shines brightest when there is support to help. And much like we as marathoners have gotten support from running with each other and will get support from crowds on race day, the organizations we are running for are all about handing out support and hope. It's really not about the soup, or food pantry, or homeless shelter or medical help. All those are necessary but they really are just a proxy for giving a person hope that they are not alone, that their children won't have to go to bed hungry, that they won't spend another night sleeping in their car, that things will get better and that they can make it through another day.

Yesterday I ran my last long run before marathon day. From here we taper so the legs will get a chance to rest. Nothing we do from here will positively affect our ability to survive the day and certainly it could hurt it. I wasn't sure when I re-started the training with one mile the first week of Jan. if I would make it this far but with a lot of support from my team mates, friends and family...well here I am. I'm definitely the worst trained I've ever been but assuming all goes well over the next few weeks I'll be there at the start.

I want to thank all of you for your support, both the kind thoughts you've offered and the donations. I wish you could all see the faces of the people you help and the hope that you give them. It rivals the feeling crossing the finish line in Boston. And for that feeling I'll run 26 miles.

The Sanity of Insanity

I recently had a friend drop me a note after one of my blogs about winter running. His message... "I really admire what you are doing but you are insane". I thanked him for both compliments.

I was traveling last week and on one of my early morning cold runs, the ones where icicles are forming on my mustache and hair, I was thinking about what he said. I decided he was right. Certainly sanity is in the eye of the beholder and if the eyes of the desk clerk at the hotel when I returned from my run are any example, I'd find myself in one of those nice, form fitting, white jackets.

There's actually a website where you can test to see if you are an "insane runner".
http://www.golivewire.com/forums/viewquiz.cgi?action=516

Albert Einstein is credited with defining insanity as "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” Given this will be my 14 or 15th Boston Marathon (lost track along the way) I'd have to say I fit the definition.

In reality though, isn't that what life is all about. What about the saying "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again". Granted there are exceptions to every rule (like trying to jump over the Grand Canyon on a motorcycle), but many of us see failure as a challenge not as invitation to quit. We also see achievements as milestones that we build on, not necessarily the end game.

Given I've already done the marathon before and I am far from ever running as fast as I have in the past, what am I trying to prove by doing it again? My wife thinks I do it to prove to myself that I'm not getting old. Believe me; my body reminds me of my age on almost every run.

I think what it is really about is living life. Ask any runner who has completed the Boston Marathon how they feel when they cross that finish line. The sense of being alive, of accomplishment, of confidence, makes all the effort worthwhile (well most of it anyway). Whenever I challenge myself, whether it's in my job, sports, marriage, raising my children, or just trying something new, I get a great sense of satisfaction for putting out the effort and even more of a thrill if I succeed. Disappointments? They come with the territory. But the downs make the ups that much better.

My son Nick had this great philosophy on life. He would try almost anything and seemed to be afraid of almost nothing (except frogs). Even at an early age he was scuba diving, boogie boarding in the ocean, mountain biking (sometimes at night), competing in paintball contests, playing lacrosse and hiking mountains. He had this mantra of Living Life Large and wherever possible to help others to do that too.

So why do I run the marathon? Running the marathon to help others is one way to honor his memory. I've tried to take his lessons and make them part of my life. To never miss an opportunity to help others, never miss an opportunity to tell my family I love them, to try and encourage and support others that are facing challenges and need to know someone cares, and to Live Life Large with as few regrets as possible. God knows I don't always succeed but I'll keep trying.

By Albert Einstein's definition, I guess that makes me insane.

Some Mornings I need an Obama Stimulous Package Too

Picture this....it's a few minutes before your alarm will go off and you are trying to get up the motivation to get out of the toasty bed and put on your running shoes. It's still dark out but you woke early from the sound of the wind shaking your house and while you were lucky that the forecast was for clear weather, the temperature is a balmy 20 degrees (without wind chill). You crawl out of bed (some people hop out but at my age a crawl is doing well), put on numerous layers of clothes until you look like something resembling the Pillsbury Dough Boy, lace up your running shoes (if you can still reach them) and head out into the dark, frigid, windy Boston morning. There's nothing like those first few step when you lungs fill with that refreshing morning air, your bones and muscles creak to respond and you have the pleasure of seeing your breathe before it freezes on your face (or in my case creates a series of icicles on my mustache). Welcome to the world of winter training for the Boston Marathon.

We runners train pretty hard and I think it's only fair that the government should recognize the effort by providing a stimulus package to help get us going in the morning. Mine would involve funding several months of winter training in slightly milder weather...say, the Turks and Caicos Islands. My wife says I’ll be lucky to get a box of tea bags and an extra pair of warm socks and gloves.

For me, the running is not going well these days and every workout is a reminder I am way behind on my training and my leg is not healing. So it's no surprise it takes a "cattle prod" level stimulus to get me rolling out of bed some mornings. But every now and then I get a reminder of why I'm doing this and it makes the effort a bit easier. I had two of those nights this week. The first was visiting a homeless shelter for families where I got to witness first hand the terrific work that the people running the center are doing. I heard the stories of some of the current residents, saw the little kids playing quietly in the hallways and saw the one room "apartments" that the families happily call home. Not much bigger than one of my children's bedrooms. These are the luck families. In the last twelve months in MA the number of families without a place to stay has gone up 50%.

Tonight I had the privilege of going out in the Soup Truck to deliver hot soup, sandwiches and yogurt, along with some blankets, hats and gloves to guest that sleep on the street or in boarding houses. There was a light snow and it was cold and windy but the lines on the street corners where we stopped were far longer than normal. We were out of hats, gloves and blankets before we ever got to the last stop although we had enough food to make sure everyone got a good supply. At our last stop a woman arrived shivering with her bare hands shaking so hard she could barely hold the soup. She asked if we had any gloves. Justin, a current guest at Lazarus House and who had volunteered to join us on the truck, looked around for one last pair. He came up empty handed, and when he looked up at the woman she just smiled and said "that's OK". Justin pulled off his gloves and gave them to her.

So tomorrow, I’ll be rolling out of bed a bit faster and moaning a bit less as I head out into the forecasted snow storm. Keep your money President Obama, I have my stimulus package.

Half Way to Half Way

Every distance runner I have ever known has struggled through a run. It goes something like this...you are in the first mile of a 10+ mile run. You are feeling like...well...crap. Every stride is an effort, the feet feel like lead, lungs are burning, breathing is like sucking air through a straw, legs are like jelly and the pavement feels twice as hard. And you are less than 10 minutes into an hour and a half run.

This is where the runner Gremlin kicks in. That's the little voice in the back of your head that relentlessly whispers "Why am I out here doing this?". "I don't need to run today, I should take the day off". "I'm not really a runner, I can't do this". "If I feel this bad now, imagine how bad I'm going to feel in another mile". "I'll never make it another hour, I might as well quit now". Come on, admit it...if you've run, swam or biked you've heard that Gremlin.

In a marathon it is even more extreme because you are out there for so long. To cope, we have all developed ways to "negotiate" with our Gremlin. Some runners don't think about the miles, they negotiate from milestone to milestone. I'll make it to the Framingham train station, then the girls at Wellesley, then the bottom of heartbreak, then the top of the next hill, then the next street corner, then the next telephone pole. The more pain, the shorter the distance to the next milestone and the louder the voice from the Gremlin to stop. I know runners who count down the miles one at a time, telling themselves they will just make it to the next mile. Tried this once...the first 13 miles it was tedious and the last 13 it was agonizing. My strategy is two fold...pummel the Gremlin with the knowledge that I have been here before and I know I can make it, and second, implement the "half way to half way" strategy. The first temporarily turns down the volume from the Gremlin (and I love the mental image of beating the crap out of the Gremlin with positive images) and the second breaks down the challenge in front of me into something I can mentally digest.

The reality is that a marathon is 80% mental and 20% physical. OK...maybe 50/50 but when you are in the last few miles it definitely feels like 80/20. By the time you get to 18 miles you have used up all your stored reserves and beyond that point you are literally digesting your muscles to fuel your body. This is why some people "hit the wall" between 18-20 miles. They just run out of fuel for the engine. At that point putting one foot in front of the other can take all the mental tenacity that a runner can muster. It's also when the Gremlins go from muttering in the background to picking up the megaphone and screaming in your head.

Why does any of this matter? Because dealing with the Gremlins on those tough training days, especially when you can barely drag your butt out of bed and the road feels like a tar pit that is sucking at every stride, is the mental training that will teach us how to deal with the Gremlins when we are in the final miles.

I also find that it helps to remember that as mentally challenging as it is to face each mile at the tale end of a marathon, it is nothing compared to the mental challenges of facing another day without a job, without food, without medical help or without a place to live. The tenacity to do that day after day without losing hope or giving up dwarfs my marathon efforts. Know that the help that many of you have offered provides the hope that allows them to silence their Gremlins for another day.

Oh...and how is my training going. Wellll...I'm half way to half way, and taking one day at a time.

Until next time....

Sometimes being selfish can be good.

Training for the Boston Marathon if you live in New England is an exercise in dodging the weather (and sometimes cars). What makes it even more challlenging is getting in that weekly long run (usually several hours or more) that is so critical to marathon training. Most of us find it difficult to set aside several hours in the middle of the week so we save our long runs for Saturday or Sunday mornings. As luck would have it, in my neighborhood it has snowed almost every weekend this winter providing us with sidewalks buried under 2 feet of snow, roads covered with ice, and streets narrowed to where you often have to climb snow banks to avoid oncoming cars. The good news…temperatures actually reached 30 one weekend.

Yeah..I know…you want to know, “What’s this got to do with being selfish?”

Bear with me a bit.

I’m not sure any of us like the idea of being called selfish. It’s not the kind of comment you respond to with a “thank you”. I heard one person respond “I’m not selfish, simply self focused”. Whatever...if it helps you sleep nights……

Truth is, to be able to get out in this kind of winter weather to do anything for a couple of hours requires a certain amount of discipline, and ….well…self focus (not to mention a somewhat questionable mental state).

In the current economic times it’s easy to become self focused, worrying about the effect the economy will have on you (my way of dealing with it is not opening our monthly 401K or IRA reports with the unrealistic hope that if I don’t look its not real). While it is hard to turn on the TV or radio without hearing about foreclosures and job losses, it doesn’t seem as real as when it hits close to home with a family member or friend.

For me, I had one of those “reality” moments the other night. Last winter I had the opportunity to go out on the Lazarus House soup truck to bring sandwiches and hot soup to homeless and hungry neighbors who can’t make it to one of the city shelters for a hot meal. Between the snow, cold and icy roads it can be almost impossible for some of them, often with holes in their shoes, to make the trek. For many of them they have to make the decision to chance going out and getting sick (when they have no money for healthcare) or going hungry. They have gotten used to going hungry. So the soup truck brings food, along with socks and gloves, to people living in boarding houses and under bridges. Last winter when I was on the truck we served about 40 people who otherwise would have gone without. Last week that number was over 90. Sometimes “reality” bites.

So here’s the thing….while running the marathon could be considered a selfish act of setting and achieving a goal (and in my case honoring the memory of my son), you could argue that running it to help people makes my selfishness a good thing. What’s more, the feelings of accomplishment I get from knowing I helped others makes the training and running the marathon all worth while.

It’s not often we get to be selfish AND help others.

PS…Running is coming along slow but steady. Long run was 4 miles this week and while the hamstring is still giving me fits, I was able to keep a short stride and run slow enough to make it without re-injuring it. 11 weeks to go.

It's Winter...Time for another Boston Marathon

French Novelist Alphonse Karr once wrote "The more things change, the more they remain the same". Well that pretty much sums up the start of this year's training for the Boston Marathon. Another year, another Boston, and YES...another injury.

Where we last left my blog stories, I had just finished the 2008 marathon, had done pretty well (survived AND qualified in the old man's division so I could get a number in 2009), and physically had no lasting injuries. Through the summer running was going well and I went into the fall expecting to be in great shape as I started the ramp up for the marathon training.

Sure as snow in Boston in the winter, come November I develop a problem with my left hamstring. Normally recovery is a week of rest, some stretching and a slow start to running again. Not this time. After a month of rest and stretching I tried again at Christmas and got about a mile before it gave out.

As an aside...I should point out that I hate going to doctors for running injuries. Most tell you if it hurts when you run, don't run. DUHHH. Can you imagine if the whole world operated like that? If you find it difficult to wake up in the morning, don't get up. If it's uncomfortable going the dentist, don't go. They fail to understand the mentality of a marathoner. If we all stopped when it started to hurt no one would make it to the finish line.

By January I'm getting emails from the rest of my team mates talking about getting together for 10 and 12 mile runs. I haven't run a step. It was time to bring in the big guns. I went to see Michele Holland who is a Lazarus House marathon team mate, a triathlete and a top notch physical therapist. With her help I am on a structured program that will hopefully help me heal in time to get to the starting line with a prayer of making it to the finish.

SO...what will make this year's story interesting will not be what time I do in the race, or the excitement of running with my daughter Heather and son-in-law Marshall (they can't make it this year). Given I'm two months late in starting, the big excitement for me will be dealing with the injury while trying to get in enough miles to get to the starting line with any chance of making it to the finish line before the 4th of July.

My first run is tomorrow...a whopping 1 mile. Stay tuned...should be interesting.

Another Year, Another Boston Marathon

The 2008 Boston Marathon!!

Piece of cake, cake walk, walk in the park, Sunday stroll, effortless, painless....

NOT!!

Yet I have to say, it was a good experience. How can you complain with such great weather, wonderful crowds and most of all my body held together long enough to make it to the finish.

But…I jump ahead, let’s take it from the beginning. Marshall , Heather and I got on the Lazarus House bus at 6AM. Not a big deal for me to get up before 5:30 (especially when sleep the night before tends to be pretty restless), but Marshall and Heather were on west coast time (not a pretty sight). With the marathon traffic we got to the Hopkinton staging area at about 7:30. Most runners have to catch the school buses out of downtown Boston for a 1 ½ to 2 hour trip out to start. It’s not the most comfortable trip (the buses are built for short legged school kids..no leg room and no shocks) and they pack in the runners . When you arrive in Hopkinton the busses drop you in the staging area where you have the privilege of waiting for the next 2-3 hours. Picture more than 20,000 nervous runners scattered around a series of high school athletic fields, all bordered by a never ending row of porta-johns. In the center of the biggest field is a large open tent with bagels, bananas and water. Most of the runners who are not standing in line at the porta-stinks are mostly huddle under the tent trying to stay warm and relaxed.

One of the benefits of running for Lazarus House is the bus. Not only is it comfortable but we were granted permission to park our bus at the staging area (provided we get there before the roads are closed into Hopkinton). That meant we not we not only had a warm, dry comfortable place to hang out but we also had our own toilet on the bus (at least for a while until it reached capacity…a situation that the driver claimed he had never experienced before).

Just before leaving for the start there’s two final activities…try to find a porta-john without 30 people in line and strip down to your running clothes and pack the rest in your bag to be taken to the finish line. It was firmly in the lower forties until 15 minutes before we headed to the start and then the sun came out and the temp went up fast. There’s a strategy to what you wear so that you are neither too cold at the start or too warm during the race. Some people actually head to the start wearing a trash bag over their clothes or wearing old sweats and shirts and end up throwing them away over the first few miles. It looks like a giant strip tease at the start with clothes flying out of the crowd in every direction. Thousands of articles of clothes are collected for charities over the first few miles.

The start is a little over a half mile walk from the staging area where they have corrals laid out based on your bib number (corrals is an appropriate term since we are packed in like cattle at this point). Marshall, Heather and I never made it to our corral. By the time we got down to main street the crowd was backed up almost a quarter mile from the start. I’ve had a number of marathons where people have stood on the side of the road for hours looking for me and never saw me pass by. I’ve had others where I have run into, or been spotted by, people I haven’t seen in over 10 years. While standing in a sea of people at the start I looked up to find my brother-in-law 10 feet away. Go figure.

Heather and Marshall would be running at a different pace from mine so we had planned to stay in touch by cell phone. That, however, assumed I remembered to bring my phone. We made arrangements for my pit crew and cheering team (my wife, daughter Tiffany and son-in-law Matt) bring it along so they could pass it to me during the race.

Finally, with great fanfare, the gun is fired and we are off! Or not. For the first 5 minutes or so we didn’t move at all, then slowly we move into a walk, a fast shuffle and then a slow jog until some 15-20 minutes later we reach the starting line. If you happen to be running at the average pace of the crowd then the next 3-4 miles, which are almost all downhill, can be quite enjoyable (especially if you can ignore the lines of runners on the sides of the road making last minute pit stops). However, if you are attempting to move faster than the crowd it can be as frustrating as trying to move through a shopping mall at Christmas. Thus was my fate, for despite the mostly downhill nature of the first 6 miles, these were the slowest of the day for me. And that was with a certain amount of effort spent attempting to weave through the crowd.

With the warm weather and knee problems I had three key strategies: drink a lot, keep a reasonable pace through half way without hurting the knee, take one mile at a time after that, knowing I could walk in from there if the knee gave out. I missed having Heather with me, it made for a long first 10 miles. But I had Nick with me in spirit and the crowd was great. Can’t say enough good things about the women at Wellesley (about 12 miles) or the students at Boston College at about 22 miles (mostly 3 sheets to the wind by the time I get there but very enthusiastic). It was great to see my pit crew at about 16 and they were joined by my sister in-law Marena and brother in-law Ron, my nephew Drew and some of their friends. It was my own private cheering section for about 20 yards. I was busy waving and soaking it in that I ran right by them without picking up the phone. I had to run back to get it.

Knee started to go at about 15 miles, just before the hills. It was a cat and mouse game with it over the next 10 miles, and it could get snorkie (a technical term) at times depending on the terrain, the pace and even the pitch of the road. But with God’s help and Nick’s company I was able to make it. Final time 3:33:22, fast enough to qualify to get into the race next year (kind of like winning a food eating contest and the prize is…more food).

In the mean time Marshall and Heather were not fairing so well. Marshall is a tall and muscular guy and despite training in the heat of LA he got behind in taking enough water. Days like we had can be deceptive as there is a breeze in your face most of the way and it wicks away most of the sweat. It gives you the sense that you are not overheating and don’t need to drink yet you are losing a lot of moisture and a lot of electrolytes. By the time they got to Heartbreak Hill (around 18 miles) Marshall was feeling the impact. He dug deep and was able to make it all the way but he was rushed to the medical tent at the finish with dehydration. An hour later after some intravenous fluids, a bit of food, and a nice massage, he was up and walking and doing much better. Now I know how to get a massage at the end of the race.

Equally exciting for me is that our whole Lazarus team finished. Susan did run with broken hand and cast and one of our members actually limped to the finished with a stress fracture and ended the day in the hospital. With your help, the Lazarus House team raised over $120K for a food pantry where people who need help can “shop” with dignity for the food of their choice. There's still time to donate if you planned to and didn't get to it .http://www.lazarushouse.org/BostonMarathon/ViewWalkerProfile.asp?Id=8

To all of you who supported Heather, Marshall and I, my deepest and heartfelt thanks. Your generosity has truly been a wonderful gift and I can’t think of a better way to keep my son’s memory alive. I also want to thank everyone for the supportive emails, even the ones commenting on my sanity and age.

Until next year, God bless…may it be a great one for you and your family.

You Can't Rollerskate in a Buffalo Herd

I love this song (by Roger Miller). Some of you know already…I cheated. I used the same song in my blog the day before the marathon last year. Different verse last year…”You can’t go fishing in a watermelon patch”…but same song.

With some exaggeration, that’s what it will be like at the start of tomorrow’s race. Picture thousands of runners packed shoulder to shoulder into a small street, trailing back for almost a half mile (that’s right, some people will have to travel an extra half mile just to get to the start), and with the pent up energy of a 5 year old on a sugar and caffeine high on Christmas eve. Now if we could only harness that energy think of the effect we could have on global warming: 20,000 runners running 26 miles means over a 1/2 million miles will be run in Boston Monday.

So, it’s the day before the race and like most runners, Heather, Marshall and I are a bit on edge. It’s not that we are not ready; it’s just that we know so much can go wrong. Like most of the runners we worry about the weather, and what we will wear, and not missing the bus to the starting line (ours leaves at 6 AM), and drinking enough, and finding a an open port-a-john just before the start (you laugh…try running 26 miles with your legs crossed), and….well you get the idea. When you think about it, as tough as it is to get from the starting line to the finish line, it’s equally tough to get from the decision to do this to the starting line. Six months of training and hundreds of miles on the roads leave plenty of chances for the random pothole to swallow your foot, or the black ice patches to take you for a ride on your back, or twist an ankle climbing the snow piles on the side of the road dodging the occasional car that comes too close. Then there’s the flu, winter colds, pulled muscles, knotted hamstrings, frostbite and bad knees (yeah…we know that one all too well). Add to this that most marathon runners I know love life, which means they are fitting the training into an already busy life.

I can give you dozens of examples but here’s one that is close to home this year. Our team leader is a working mom named Susan Hurley. Susan is not only our mother hen but also a marathon runner (and has completed the Hawaii Iron Man competition). While training for the race three weeks ago she took a bad fall. Very bad. Broke her arm, mashed several fingers, and banged her head. Picture bones coming through the skin, lots of blood, operations to put in steel rods. On top of all the pain was the heartbreak of being told she wouldn’t be able to run the race. After all the training, effort and camaraderie leading the team, she would have to sit it out. I would not be surprised to see her at the starting line Monday.

But seldom if ever do I hear a complaint from marathon runners about the effort. Oh we will complain about our injuries (see my last blog) and moan about the weather but that’s just because we are obsessing about one thing…getting to the starting line at the Boston Marathon healthy enough and trained enough to get to the finish line.

And then the day is here. Suddenly all those months of training, all the effort, pain, early mornings, cold days, nights when you couldn’t party (those really hurt), all translate from getting to the starting line to getting to the finish line.

Adidas has a great marketing program around the marathon called “Impossible is nothing”. People were encouraged by Adidas to submit their feelings before the race last year and they became the marketing campaign for this year. One of my favorites “Brain Off, Legs On”.

For every runner there’s a story. It’s what has gotten them through all the effort to get to the starting line. We all know there will be pain involved in finishing; it’s only a question of how soon it starts and how intense it gets. It’s the reasons behind the each runner’s story that will give them the mental fortitude to keep going when the rest of the body says enough (another Adidas note “My legs were screaming but the crowd was screaming louder”). For me, and I believe for Heather and Marshall as well, what will carry us through the painful parts will be the support we have gotten from you and knowing we are running to help others. For that, I can’t thank you enough.

For those of you who were able to donate to Lazarus house, you have done the same for a significant number of people who are also in pain. While most of you will never meet the people you’ve helped I have met some and I can tell you their gratitude is immeasurable. Dave McGillivray, the race director for the Boston Marathon and a man I consider to be a real hero, said at a recent meeting (and I paraphrase)….We all know someone who has been touched by cancer and therefore it’s easier for us to support charity efforts in that area. But how many of us know a homeless person. Your efforts will put food in the hands of hundreds of people and prevent mothers from having to make the agonizing decision of paying the rent or feeding her children. No matter what happens tomorrow you are all winners.

So the theme for tomorrow is the chorus from Roger Miller’s song:

ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS PUT YOUR MIND TO IT

KNUCKLE DOWN,
BUCKLE DOWN,
DO IT, DO IT, DO IT

See you in Boston!!!

PS: For those of you who might be out on the course or checking online (instructions below)...I plan to start out at around a 9 min./mile pace. We start around 10:30 so if my knee holds out till 13 miles I should be half way around 12:30 (give or take 10 minutes to get through the crowd at the start). Heather and Marshall will be starting at 9:30 pace. We all have white singlets with our names on the front and I will have a picture of my son Nick as well.
For those that might be tracking us online...our numbers are 21757 (Heather), 21758 (Marshall Lewy) and 21755 (me). Go to the BAA site below to check how we are making out. http://www.bostonmarathon.org/

The Waiting Begins....

The training is pretty much over, it’s now all a mental waiting game. Over the years I’ve learned that it is at this point in the training where the Four Realities of Marathoning kick in.

The First Reality: In the two weeks before a marathon there is little you can do improve your chances of success but there is an infinite number of ways to screw it up.

Years ago when I was young, invincible, and ran the marathon to run the marathon I tested this theory. I had run 50+ miles a week at a sub 7:00 minute pace, I could run a sub 6:00 minute mile in work outs and I was mentally ready to run another Boston Marathon in the 2:40’s. But I wanted an edge in the race and there was a fairly new theory on marathoning called “carbo loading”. The theory went something like this…in the days leading up to the race you starve your system of carbohydrates and just feed it protein. Your body becomes carbohydrate starved. Then 48 hours before the race you stuff yourself with carbs and like water on a dry sponge your body sucks up and stores an extra big load of carbs. On race day when everyone else runs out of fuel at 18 miles, you just cruise by them on your reserves. Or so the theory goes.

Have you ever tried to eat a protein only diet? Ok..all you Zone diet guys put your hands down (this was pre Zone). You can have a tuna fish sandwich…without the sandwich. You can have all kinds of meat and fish and some veggies but no condiments, potatoes, rice, or pasta to go with them. Cereal? Nope. Ice Cream? Forget it. Beer or alcohol? Not on your life. When you are running 40-50 miles a week your body becomes this giant calorie furnace and trying to stoke that fire with just proteins is like trying to fuel a blast furnace with twigs. When your body can’t get enough fuel it goes cannibal and starts eating itself. It begins with your fat stores (oh yeah…we marathoners have a lot of those), and then moves on the muscles. While it is busy chowing down on your tissue it is also tearing down your immune system (for a good description of this read “You: Staying Young” by Oprah’s doctor. You can bill it as the Warranty Manual for your body). So here I am thinking I’m building myself up for the big day when in reality I’m reenacting a scene from the night of the living dead.

I would have been happy with a bad day out on the course. Truth is, my body was so run down that I picked up the flu the day before the race and couldn’t even raise my head off the pillow. I can remember telling Pam the morning of the race that I was OK and I could make it, as I tried to crawl out of bed and make it to the bathroom yet again. “Yes honey” was all she said. So after months of 50 mile weeks of running in freezing rain, ankle deep snow, weather so cold a piece of my mustache actually froze and broke off….I watched the race on TV.

The Second Reality: You will be haunted by Phantom Aches and Pains.
Once you’ve proved to yourself that you can run 20 miles in training, the only thing that stands between you and the excitement of race day is the worry that you might get hurt. Every ache, every cramp, every muscle twinge, every stubbed toe is magnified 1000 times until it dominates your thoughts and dreams with a concern that this might prevent you from being able to finish the race. I once knew a guy that got so worked up over a knot in his calf that he ended up in the hospital with an ulcer. In truth almost every runner has to have something wrong with them on the day of the race. Ask any runner how they are the day of the race and they will lapse into a litany of problems. “I have a blister on my left foot, I think I broke my right ankle last night, and I have an acute appendicitis, but otherwise I’m OK.” Establishing the fact that you are not 100% is how we as runners take a bit of the pressure off. That’s not to say some of this is not real. I knew a guy once that finished the marathon with a broken leg. But that’s a whole other story.

The Third Reality: The WALL is real.
The Wall is the point in a marathon when the laws of physics and biology conspire to terminate your ability to continue moving. It’s right about the 18 mile mark when your shoes actually give up the ghost. Despite all our years of technological advances, today’s best shoes have fully compressed the cushioning by this point and effectively you are running in the equivalent of your dress street wingtips (side note…the marathon was actually won once by a man running barefoot). Right about the time your shoes quit, your body runs out of fuel. It has consumed all the energy you have stored for the race and now you are running on shear will power. They call it “running into the wall” because one minute you are feeling OK (a relative statement considering where you are) and the next somebody has put 50 pound weights on each ankle, sucked all the air out of your lungs, and with each step is pounding nails into your thighs. The next 7-8 miles are a mental battle to keep moving at any pace. This is the point where you start to make deals with yourself or with God. “If you just get me to the next mile marker, the next street corner, the next telephone pole…I’ll go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life.”. I’ve convinced myself that God gives a free pass to marathoner promises made in the last 8 miles. He figures they have already done their time in hell.
The truth is, while it is tough for everyone in the last 7+ miles, not everyone hits the wall. You can avoid it by remembering the Fourth Reality…

The Fourth Reality: There’s no such thing as “putting time in the bank” in the first half of the race.
I cringe when I hear someone say “I plan to run the first half faster than my overall pace because I know I’m going to slow down in the second half and this way I can still have a good time.” My advice…just pay 3 big guys to beat the crap out of you now…it will be less painful. It will be a self fulfilling prophecy that if you run the first half of the race at a faster pace than what you expect your average pace to be you will not only hit the wall and slow down substantially, but your last 8-10 miles will make the Bataan Death March look like a Sunday afternoon stroll. When a runner reaches this point I’ve seen spectators in their 80’s with walkers moving faster than they are.

So, if you happen to bump into a Boston Marathoner over the next couple of weeks, be kind. Ask them how they are doing, listen patiently to their list of ailments, and offer them a few words of encouragement and confidence. Whatever you do, don’t ask them what they expect to do for time.

And a quick update on the Hunger Striker Team (the name of our Lazarus House group). We have now raised over $90K on our way to our $100K goal. Thanks to everyone who has contributed, your generosity has been overwhelming. Those of you that would still like to contribute please consider donating in my daughter Heather's name. Her Lazarus House link is

http://www.lazarushouse.org/BostonMarathon/ViewWalkerProfile.asp?Id=9

Stay tuned...I'll have one more blog report just before the race to give you my number and let you know how you can check my progress online on the day of the race.

God Bless....