Doug Runs 365

Snow excuse for not running

2012-01-20T18:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning it was chilly, but clear. Perfect for a lunchtime run.

Between morning and lunch, someone undid the little twist-tie that was keeping the huge-ass bag of snow in the sky closed. All at once everything was covered in an inch of snow.

All of that snow, and the slippery footing and general misery that came with it, derailed the medium-long run I had scheduled.

For about 45 minutes.

Sitting at my desk, the guilt began to stack up. I'd already missed a workout earlier in the week to meetings. And someone's blog post from earlier this month kept ringing in my ears... something about "when you skip a workout, you're adding minutes to your race time", and "You gotta suck it up on the shitty days.", got me dressed and out the door.

It wasn't long, about the time it took me to get clear of the parking lots and busy streets to a quiet neighborhood, before I was reminded how great it is to run in the snow. The quiet that comes from a blanket of fresh flakes is impossible to describe, as is the squeaky crunching sound you get with every footfall when those flakes are squeezed together.

Being the first to lay tracks in virgin snow is always a treat.

Seeing the usually invisible comings and goings of little creatures we share the earth with reminds us that we belong out here as much as they do.

Rabbit tracks from a bunny in a hurry

The excitement you feel for even a small patch of pavement, and how nice it is to relax for those few strides, helps us appreciate the little things that make running more comfortable, though a little less exciting.

Sweet, sweet traction

I love the moment when you realize that your hands have warmed enough to carry your gloves instead of wearing them. And later, emerging from the cozy neighborhood, back to the busy streets, feeling a blast of cold air that reminds us how nice our friends the neighborhood trees were for shielding us from the wind, and how nice it is to have gloves when you need them, even if they are a little soggy.

I hadn't run in real snow in months. I can honestly say it was a pleasure.

Mostly.

I did spend a few seconds thinking about how little traction my new shoes provide on snow... right before I misjudged a curb...

Fall #1 of the season*

Don't let a little thing like snow, or even a little spill, keep you inside. Embrace the season, let the cold air keep you cool, and be glad that you are able to run among the flakes. I mean the snow flakes, of course, not the weirdoes.

Good running,

Doug

*You may notice the L shaped track. That's the trace of my left foot as it landed, slid a bit forward, and then, as I rolled up onto the forefoot, traction gave way and it slid abruptly right/down the curb. The mess at the top is where I landed in a heap. All that snow provides surprisingly little cushion.

Sanibel

2012-01-09T13:13:00.000-08:00

Know what's a lot of fun? Pretending you're rich for 5 days or so.

If you're gonna do it, I highly recommend doing it on Sanibel.

As if you didn't already know, Sanibel is a barrier island just west of Fort Myers, FL. To get to the island, you take a bridge, and pay a $6 toll. It's called "The Causeway", 'cause the $6 toll keeps away the Fort Myers Beach riffraff.

And it works.

If you were in Fort Myers and someone clubbed you unconscious, put a bag over your head, drove you to Sanibel, and threw a bucket of cold water on you, you'd swear you'd been out for days and transported a jillion miles to paradise. That's how far apart Sanibel feels from Fort Myers.

The place is a destination island, full of vacationers and snowbirds, but no tourists. There isn't a hint of the hyper-commercialized tourist trap atmosphere that usually comes with any beach in America. It's relaxing, quaint, serene, beautiful, and really expensive.

And totally worth it.

How can a middle-class software geek with a non-monetized running blog afford such luxury? Easy.

Just before Christmas, the GF's wonderfully generous, and thankfully otherwise busy cousin let us use her family beachfront condo for a few days. And we used the crap out of it.

So in the event that you're significant other's cousin let's you freeload on a beachfront condo in Sanibel, let's look at how to make the most out of it.

Stock Up

First, on your way to the island, stop and grab some groceries. Eating out at Sanibel is pretty pricey, but the main reason to gather grub is to have food on hand. It's a condo, not a hotel room. Take advantage of that. Eat when you want. Barefoot. On the veranda.

Picked over baguette, gouda, white cheddar, and genoa.

Paired with a nice wine, a perfect light dinner on the veranda.

Chips, salsa, scratch guac, scratch margaritas... also veranda worthy

It's also a good idea, if you think you might want to relax with a glass of wine, or maybe some kick-ass tequila, to stop by a liquor store. And it's also fun to take a "before" picture of your haul...

Four killer cabs, Patron for margs, 1921 anjeo for me,

and the Gulf of Mexico in the background. I know!*

After you dump your bags, put the groceries away, take a picture of your booze, it's time to explore a bit.

Where to Run

Running on the beach is for newbies and tourists. Running on soft sand will shred your calves. Running on the packed, but tilted sand by the water will wreck your ankles and hips. Either choice will leave you limping through your time on the island. So do a little research and find some place better to run.

It helps if the cousin's condo is right next to a golf course, one that is runner friendly.

The view from the cart trail before 7:15 am is beautiful,

especially if you're running and not playing golf.

How do you know if they're runner friendly? You ask. Go to the pro shop when they aren't busy, and ask if it's cool if you run the cart path before the first tee-off time. Most places will be a little reluctant, but cool. So don't ruin it for the rest of us. Ask first, be polite, and if they don't want you there, don't sneak on.

For another run, you can check out the multi-use paths that line every road on the island. One of them takes you to the Gulfside City Park, and along that path, you will find this...

It is a very small graveyard. I didn't count, but I'd say there are maybe 10 graves, each covered not with grass, or dirt, but shells. It's odd, no doubt, especially if you don't know it's coming, but worth a pause and a look around.

Very small above-ground grave... the shells on top are sweet

So are the stuffed animals left for Baby Wiles.

Nice to know that the good folk of Sanibel buried this guy.

Okay, let's shake off that graveyard anti-buzz...

Explore

Now that you have your running planned, it's time to check out the rest of the area. Sanibel during the holiday season is full of "Toto, I don't think we're in Indiana" images... like...

Lemons, or oranges, or little grapefruit maybe...

growing in someone's backyard.

Snowman among palm trees

Mega-Christmas-balls hanging from banyan trees

Your first full day, head directly to the JN "Ding" Darling National Wildlife Refuge, first thing. I am not kidding. A huge chunk of the island is set aside for birds and gators. For a few bucks you get a naturalist-guided tour on a tram. Sure, you could drive yourself, but then all you see are miscellaneous birds. On the tour you get all of the details and background that makes it all makes sense, even if just for the 90-minutes of the tour. And yes, it costs a few bucks, but remember, you're "rich".

And you might see a gator...

... 's tail

We also checked out the Shell Museum, which is about as exciting as it sounds. Don't get me wrong, if you want to learn about shells, and see lots of shells, and watch two movies about shells, it's the place to be. But it's not gonna knock your socks off. Actually, it's Sanibel, so you should be wearing Keen sandals...without socks.

We also made a trip to the light house, which is equally underwhelming. It's kinda ugly. Lots of chain-link fence. Not nearly as quaint as you'd think a lighthouse on such a beautiful island should be.

I was expecting a Cape Hatteras quality lighthouse. Looks more like it should be at Cape Kennedy. But, it is a working lighthouse... so there's that.

Eats

For those times when you feel like putting on shoes and eating out, I've got four places you really need to hit:

For lunch in the marina, acting like you own a really big boat, and eat at Gramma Dots.

Gramma Dots, not easy to find, but the perfect first day lunch spot

Empty when we walked in, packed when we left.

Yeah, we're trend setters...

You must order the fried oysters,

even if you think you don't like oysters

Order a beer, enjoy the oysters, and relax. Try to act like you belong. And if you want, start talking to your significant other about how you simply must find a bigger yacht before next season's regatta.

"How can we possibly make do with that crappy 42 footer for another season?"

For breakfast out, try The Over-Easy Cafe. It's busy, but worth the wait. Besides, while you're waiting for your table, you can browse the cute-as-hell shops.

Over Easy

Breakfast outside

Eggs Benedict, or clown face?

For a fun casual evening, go to Doc Ford's Rum Bar and Grill, owned by novelist Randy Wayne White.

Doc Ford's

We were there on Sunday and there was no wait, but excellent football viewing, if you like that sorta thing.

Neither of us are big rum fans, but they have a nice selection of sipping rums as well as a gajillion rum drinks, I highly recommend their fun twist on a margarita that includes pineapple juice and is actually quite yummy, but I can't remember the name to save my life. Just ask for that Margarita that Doug liked... they'll know what you mean.

Fun margarita and kinda nasty rum drink.

The real reason to go to Ford's is the Yucatan Shrimp. Un-be-lievably good. It's succulent, it's spicy, it's a little sweet. We tried a couple more appetizers, but nothing was in the same zip-code as the Yucatan Shrimp. Even now, late at night, when the I get a little case of the munchies, I find myself contemplating jumping in the car and driving to Sanibel just for this shrimp. Order it first, so you can order more when you finish your first batch.

Yucatan Shrimp is un

Ok, now the big one... the one place you absolutely must visit.

For a nice, really nice dinner, it's gotta be Il Tesoro. The restaurant used to be a house. A small house. That, and the open kitchen and too few tables packed in just a bit too close together give it the feel of a local joint in Tuscany. And the food is incredibly good.

Il Tesoro

I got one of the specials... always get one of the specials... Zuppa di Pesce, which translates to "fish soup", but it should have been called Frutti di Mare Celeste, or "heavenly seafood". Every bit was delightful, but also different. Not only were there lots of different yummables from the ocean, but the sauce changed, a lot, over time. It's hard to describe, but wonderful. Il Tesoro is expensive because it is totally, totally worth it.

Zuppa di Pesce

GF's Sea Bass and artichoke awesomeness

I don't like Tiramisu, but I loved this!

Tartufo - insane!

Yes, we take pictures of our food. Yes people is nice restaurants, like Il Tesoro, look at us like we are rubes. We don't care.

Nightlife

Later, we looked for nightlife, live music and stuff, and we found some so-so places (The Jac, Tween Waters), but nothing that could beat sitting on the veranda, drinking fantastic wine/tequila, listening to the ocean. And that's really the best thing to do on Sanibel... nothing.

Oh, but you MUST be on the beach for every sunset.

But be sure to dose up on the bug spray. Those no-see-ums will eat your ankles alive.

Defiling a Fountain

Finally, if you want to get into a fountain, and who doesn't, well, it's slim pickin's. There must be some kind of zoning restriction against them or something. As we crissed-crossed the island, I kept a sharp eye out for the entire stay, and found... none.

Then, I spent an hour of the last morning, after I'd managed to jam the seriously cool, and empty tequila bottle into my carry-on, searching Google Maps satellite view like a CIA agent looking for centrifuges in Iran, trying to find anything that looked remotely like a fountain. And...

I found one. Probably the only one on the island. I could tell you where it is, but that would ruin all of your fun.**

Persistence pays

We hit on the way to the causeway, on the way off the island, on the way to the airport, making an otherwise melancholy drive from paradise to the real world, from pretend rich to middle-class reality, a little less depressing.

And a little damp.

Good running,
Doug

*For the record, we left one (awesome) bottle of wine and 3/4 of the Patron behind for our hosts. The rest we enjoyed immensely.
**If you're the kind of person who reads the last page of the book first, or checks for spoilers before seeing the movie, you can check the Interactive Map of Fountains I've Defiled.

TUT

2012-01-06T09:34:00.000-08:00

Big Sur, my target marathon, is known for having one of the most beautiful courses in the world. You start in the midst of huge redwood trees, and spend most of the race on the meandering, and spectacular, California coastline. It's been called the most-scenic marathon, and best destination marathon, in the world.

That's all on the brochure.

What the brochure doesn't mention is that Big Sur has some monster hills with lots of lesser hills sprinkled in just to make sure you don't get cocky, and your legs don't recover.

Training for a hilly marathon in Indiana is a challenge. The only way to train for hills is to run hills.* Since the Ice Age, Central Indiana has been flat, and by Ice Age I am referring to the last Glacial Stage in North America some 25,000 years ago, not the forgettable 2002 animated film that continues to spew forth ever worse sequels. Those glaciers scraped the place smooth, like a carpenter with a plane, and left what topology there was between Gary and Center Grove as shavings down in Southern Indiana.

How flat are we talking?

Benjamin Harrison

If you strapped an EKG, right now, on Benjamin Harrison, former Indiana Governor, US Senator, and 23rd President of the United States, who happens to also be quite dead, the resulting green line would be only slightly less interesting than a topo map of the pool table I call home. Here, let me demonstrate...

Benjamin Harrison's EKG

Pool Table

Central Indiana

The challenge was made apparent yesterday when my marathon training program, modified from here, prescribed 3 miles and "TUT 4:00".

"What the hell's TUT?", you may be asking yourself, which is probably not very useful. It would be better to ask me, or consult the link to the training program, or just keep reading.

I'll tell you what TUT isn't... TUT is definitely NOT a mid-run impromptu performance of "Walk Like an Egyptian".

Pffft, that would be stupid.

Almost as stupid as a mid-post impromptu viewing of "Walk Like an Egyptian"...

Ah, good times... For those who don't remember the 80s and might be curious, no, the laws of gravity did NOT apply to hair back then. Now, um... what were we... Oh, right!

Directly from the program description:
TUT - Total Uphill Time: The total number of minutes you spend running semi-vigorously up inclines-- repeats up the same hill or total uphill time over a hilly loop.

"Semi-vigorously"... Sounds like a description of a disappointing sex scene, or is that just me? "They went at it, but only semi-vigorously. In the book, they hit it with full vigor."

Anyway, yesterday, my 3-miler was reduced to running loops in the office park to get in my 4 minutes of hill work because there's really just the one baby hill, though there are a couple different routes up it. At a semi-vigorous pace, it's about a minute from bottom to top.

I'm going to have to get more creative for Thursdays. I can't take all of those loops for much more than 3 miles. And one-minute hills are NOT going to prepare me for the long climbs of Big Sur. Looks like I'll be trekking south to much hillier venues like Brown County and Bloomington for some long runs with grown-up sized hills.

Good running,
Doug

*Yes, I know I could use a treadmill to simulate hills. But, that is an absolute last resort. We've covered this (here), treadmills are stupid.

Images from here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Marathon Training

2012-01-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

I've heard that during childbirth, hormones are produced by the mother that cause her to forget how painful the whole "pushing a person out of your privates" experience is. Without childbirth amnesia, the human race may have died out long ago.

I believe that something similar happens to marathon runners. I have no evidence other than the fact that, after training for our first marathon, most of us decide to do another one, to return for more punishment.

Case in point... me.

After 10 marathons, none of which have gone particularly well, I'm back for more abuse. I'm training for a bucket-list marathon, Big Sur.

Halfway point of Big Sur Marathon.

I know! Pretty awesome, right?

For those who've never done a marathon before, and even those who have but weren't really paying attention, marathoning really isn't about the 26.2 mile race at the end.

I know that some people run marathons and get nothing out of it than a T-shirt and a medal. If that is you, and you are ok with that, then feel free to stop here. I don't think you'll relate to what's to follow.

Those of you that are still reading understand that running a marathon is an opportunity to know yourself, and to challenge yourself. You're my kinda people,

For some of us, the race, that day way off in the future, is a carrot, an eagerly anticipated reward for all of the hard work put in recasting ourselves into marathoners. For others, it's an excuse, something to point to as rationale to all of the people who wonder why we are out on the road so much. It's a lot easier than trying to explain why you need to get away from people, or problems, or whatever, just for a little while each day. For still others, including me, the race looms as an ominous specter promising abuse and humiliation if we don't train hard enough.

No matter how you look at it, though, the race is just one day. Anyone can write a check, get up early, find their starting corral, and move forward when the gun goes off. They might even finish, but they'll hurt like a mother, and the only thing they'll have learned about themselves is that they can make very bad decisions.

The real challenge, and value, of the marathon isn't the race, it's the training.

Months of running, mostly alone, pushing yourself further and further, will wear down even the most fit. Day after day the training grinds on, and grinds you down.

And yet we return, over and over again. We tell people, and ourselves, we're doing it to "get it right" or to "just get under [insert goal time here]". Sometimes we play it off as an excuse to eat whatever we want.

Deep down, though, I think we are called back to find that place that week after week of long, hard training takes us, that state of mind where we are worn out, torn down to our base essence, ego and illusions stripped away, naked, real, raw. It's there that we see our true selves.

Many days we're sore, and tired, and fed up with the same stupid routes. No one has a gun to our head, but we know that if we skip, we'll be cheating ourselves. We push ourselves past where we are comfortable, past what is reasonable, past what our minds tell us is sane, to find out what we are capable of, and who we are.

If you're lucky and you run well, you'll find the most obvious and pronounced dose of that reality somewhere around mile 20 on race day. When your body screams "For the love of all that is good, STOP!", and you have the choice to surrender, or push on. Or maybe even push harder.

But you'll also face reality every time the alarm goes off early for a morning run, and every time you start a hard training run already sore from the day before, and every time you extend your long run a couple miles farther than you've gone so far, and every time you start a run in rain or cold or both, and every time you're faced with a choice of going to Five Guys with friends, or running over lunch and eating at your desk.

There are no shortcuts to becoming the best marathoner you can be. Every time you skip or cut short a workout you are selling yourself short, robbing yourself of the experience of finding out if you could have done it, finding out how tough you are, or how fast you are, or how much more you can take. Also, less importantly, but still important, when you skip a workout, you're adding minutes to your race time.

The real bitch about marathons is that how well your race goes is largely out of your control. Weather, sickness, injury, or a bad batch of Gatorade can ruin your day. The only thing you can control is your mental and physical fitness. And the only way to build those is to set your program, and stick to it. You gotta suck it up on the shitty days. You gotta run hard on hard days. You gotta pound out the miles on the long days.

You gotta go when you don't feel like it... when your mind is telling you not to... when your mind is telling you it's ok to slack off, or slow down, or walk. This is true in the race, and but also in training, because every workout is an opportunity to train your body and mind for the race. If you go easy on your body, it won't magically be strong and fast on race day. If you show your mind even the slightest hint of weakness during training, it will exploit that weakness on race day.

Marathon training is all about training your legs to run 20 miles, and training your heart to ignore your head and push the legs the final 6.2.

And so I'm one day, one run into training. I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm not sure how this is going to go. My body is a lot older, and creakier than it was the last time I tried this. But I think I'm tougher mentally now than I was then. I'm banking on that to make up the difference.

It's going to be a challenging few weeks, sprinkled with self-doubt, and discouragement, and opportunities to rationalize a reason to quit, not to mention the most brutal weather in Indiana. I know it will be worth it, but I also know it will be really hard. Still, I'm looking forward to what these weeks have in store for me.

The week of April 30th, the week after Big Sur, will be the week to rest, to look back at how far I've come, hopefully reflect on a fun race along the gorgeous California coastline, and to celebrate with good food. And then... well then it's best to have a couple beers, maybe a nice Napa Cab, and just let that amnesia kick in so I forget how much it hurt, and can start planning the next one.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here.

New Trail in Carmel

2011-12-24T09:28:00.000-08:00

Santa is bringing a long overdue present to me, and Carmel, this year... but there is still some assembly required.

Unbeknownst to me, Carmel is building a new trail. Luckily it was totally beknownst to my buddy Marty, who took me and the dog for a tour on a simply gorgeous, crisp Christmas Eve morning.

The only problem is that the trail is still way under construction. We ducked under some barriers and lots of yellow tape. I don't think we did anything illegal. Unsafe maybe, but nothing illegal. And worth the risk.

So step around those orange barrels and let's see what my tax dollars are up to.

The Interurban is a stretch that starts off of 116th just west of Westfield/Rangeline and heads south. The trail retraces a former rail line that spurred off of the Monon for local business deliveries. This new section is the usual multi-use asphalt surface, but it is immaculate. And not just "brand new trail" immaculate. I mean every detail is really well done. The path is almost flat, not mounded, which can make running uncomfortable, but with just enough pitch to let water run off. It's lined on either side with an anal-retentive crushed limestone border that is not only perfectly even on both sides and down the entire length, but also dead level with the path, making the path edge a warning-track as opposed to an ankle-snapper. There's also a nice overlook under construction that provides a nice view of Carmel Creek.

After a half mile or so there is an, I don't know, intersection I guess, where the Interurban becomes Prairie Trail as it turns west, and off to the northwest is Carmel Creek trail. This is where the fun starts...

Carmel Creek Trail is a mostly crushed gravel loop that's, are you ready for this... in the woods! I know!

An actual trail, winding between actual trees. And it, too, is fantastic.

The loop is about half a mile, and every inch of it is so well done. Most of the surface is deep but firm crushed stone which is lined, the whole way, with logs. And these logs are nearly identically sized and laid precisely end to end, providing a perfect border while still feeling all naturey.

Occasionally you come onto some decking that either crosses a stream, or carries you over spots that probably get pretty gooey when it rains, or provides a nice scenic view. What you don't get, yet, is railings. So be careful. And also be careful on the decking itself. This morning there were some sneaky splotches of frost in places where the deck was shaded, and that's some slippery going.

One would assume this is Carmel Creek, the trail's namesake.

A little further and you are reminded, abruptly, that this trail isn't exactly open. Not that that stopped us.

Assload of 2x12s awaiting decking.

The trail has a couple variations and shorter cutoffs, and by cutoffs, I mean alternate exits, not bad jean shorts. The intersection of the main trail and one of these cutoffs is implemented with, what else, a round-a-bout. This is after all, Carmel, IN, which Time Magazine hailed as "that place with all of those damn round-a-bouts" (link).

Finishing the loop puts you back at the intersection of the paths. We continued on to Prairie Trail which takes you west to the Monon Center and hooks up with the Monon Trail. Like it's sister path, the Interurban, is well groomed.

It also takes you by some other new construction, this time some new shelters for the park. Now that I see them being built, I realized that it was really kinda weird to have a big city park without any shelters. I'm glad someone else was a little more forward looking than me.

See, shelters... coming soon.

The new trail in the woods and the connecting paths will be a great place to run from the Monon Center, or, lucky me, from my house. It will also be a nice side-trip for the hordes who plod up and down the Monon on the weekends. I just hope they wipe their feet.

Apparently the trail should be good to go by spring. If you venture out on it before then, please be careful, and if you get scolded for ducking under the yellow tape, this conversation never happened.

Good running,
Doug

I'm sorry I hate you... so very, very much

2011-12-05T15:00:00.001-08:00

I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have flipped you off.

You didn't do anything wrong. It was just... you see... you were running.

There you were, running down the sidewalk, oblivious to me in my car, oblivious to pretty much everything, probably. And that's great. That's just what we want from a solo run, obliviousness. I'm happy for you. Really.

Thing is, I can't run right now, so seeing you running, early in the morning, in the rain and cold... I let my jealousy get the best of me. And I let the bird fly.

Again, sorry.

If it makes you feel any better, you got off easy. The day before I saw two guys out in full chilly-weather gear, chatting, waiting at a crosswalk for me to drive by so they could continue their run. I gave them a crisp "F*** You!" That kind of FU that drips with disdain. I'm not proud of that moment. It just kinda flew out. Again... not their fault. And horribly un-Budha-like of me. These guys, and you, are my people. Even though I don't know you, I kinda do. I shouldn't behave as I did.

In my defense, when people are hungry, they can get a little testy. Withhold sex for a few days and your partner is going to be a little less than chipper. Take running away from a runner, and, well... it can get unpleasant.

I'm on the mend. I'm doing my exercises. I'll be back at it soon.

Until then, I hope you'll pardon my mood.

And the profanity.

Good running,
Doug

The Envelope

2011-11-14T08:45:00.001-08:00

[Apologies for a 100% running-free post.]

Last week, I came home to find an envelope at my door.

A FedEx envelope.

I know! FedEx means something really good. Or really bad. Or in this case, something to be really ambivalent about.

I knew what was in the envelope before I opened it. It was something that I'd been waiting months for, and also dreading.

Inside the envelope was another, letter-sized envelope. Inside that envelope, a check. It was the check from my father's estate.. my inheritance. (In case you missed it... The post about the passing of my father.)

It wasn't a lot of money. It was enough to pay off my modest debt, which I did. And after that bit of dutifully doing of the right thing, there was even a little left over.

That was nice.

(Sigh)

But, you know, I'd trade a whole lot of cushion money for years full of fond memories, stacks of letters with stories and sound advice, event just a good idea of who this man was, and how I'm like him, and how I'm different.

Getting that FedEx envelope is the last exchange I'll have with father. It was wholly unsatisfying and empty, like a period on an incomplete sentence. But, pretty much true to form.

Since he died... or more precisely, since I found out that he'd died... I've come to imagining that as the years ticked by, my father wanted to find some way to connect with me. When I turned 10, then 20, then 30, and yes, even 40, he must have had regrets and felt like he was missing something. I bet he just had no idea how to break through that thick ice.

I'd like to think that he wanted to make it up to me somehow, starting, maybe, with a gift, a gift to make up for the missed birthdays and Christmases and Graduations and wedding and the births of children and a sorry-about-the-divorce beer, but he didn't even know me, let alone what get me, what would come close to making up for all of that. So he gave me what he could... money. And he did it in the least personal way possible, through the mail, with no accompanying note because, as we know, he's been dead for almost 2 years, which is a very extreme way to avoid personal contact. I guess that was just his way.

So, I took matters into my own hands.

I completed the sentence.

I helped him buy me a gift.

And I believe if you look in Emily Post's Book of Etiquette, it will tell you that the proper gift for a posthumous apology for not being a part of your son's life is... a Ducati.

Ducati, saying "I'm sorry I screwed up", with horsepower and sex appeal, since 1926.

It doesn't make up for 44 years without any kind of relationship with my father, but it's red, it's loud, and if you ask it to, it goes forward in a big hurry, like a cheetah with its ass on fire.*

It was a fantastic 3+ hour ride home on the back roads of Indiana between Merrillville and Carmel. Liberating. Exhilarating. Gratifying. I won't say I've come to peace with my father, yet, but that ride sure helped. I bet the next one will, too.

Good running,
Doug

*Yes, for those keeping count, that's two Ducati in my garage. And yes, the plural of "Ducati" is "Ducati". (In case you missed it... How I came to own my first Ducati.)

Guest post: Marino

2011-11-11T09:28:00.001-08:00

A first for this dark, dusty corner of the internet... a guest poster.

"What about that time your dog posted? Everybody liked the log post?"

Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that one. People liked her post a little too much for my taste. I've since changed my password. And disinfected the keyboard.

Anyway... the first human guest poster at DougRun365 is the GF's brother-in-law, Marino. He's from Northern Ireland and lives outside London. He's a really good dude, and also, insane.

Marino had taken to ultra-marathoning. This is his account of a race he completed a few weeks ago.

I'll let Marino explain...

--------------------------------------------------------

“I’m tired and everything hurts”

This is something I heard doing a half-marathon a few years ago. A “runner” (and I use the term loosely) was sitting on the ground at maybe the 8 mile point, with an ambulance in attendance (yes, really) and a couple of paramedics hovering around him. I don’t want to diss the gentleman in question as I’m sure he really wasn’t having a good time, but as I ran past I could see the paramedics rolling their eyes, telling him to man up, and sending him on his way, since being “tired and sore” apparently isn’t a recognised medical condition. Anyway, that aside “I’m tired and everything hurts” is the best – and certainly shortest - summary I can possibly give of running an 85 mile race. Here’s a slightly more profound statement though, from a well-known ultrarunner:

"Perhaps the genius of ultrarunning is its supreme lack of utility. It makes no sense in a world of space ships and supercomputers to run vast distances on foot. There is no money in it and no fame, frequently not even the approval of peers. But as poets, apostles and philosophers have insisted from the dawn of time, there is more to life than logic and common sense. The ultra runners know this instinctively. And they know something else that is lost on the sedentary. They understand, perhaps better than anyone, that the doors to the spirit will swing open with physical effort. In running such long and taxing distances they answer a call from the deepest realms of their being -- a call that asks who they are ..."

A bit pretentious, but it also sums up an ultramarathon well. What does it feel like to get up in the morning and run all day, and then all night, and then some of the next day as well? I wanted to know for myself.

I was running the ‘Ridgeway 85’ – 85 miles along the length of the Ridgeway in the south of England. The Ridgeway is apparently Britain’s oldest road, and has been in use since around 3000 BC. [ed.- !] Prehistoric people liked it because it’s – wait for it – on a ridge (who would have thought), and therefore easy to defend, has good visibility and doesn’t get all boggy. The scenery is spectacular, and it was a great route for an ultra – superbly signposted, almost 100% on trails, point to point, great scenery and rolling hills. I was feeling a bit underprepared for the race – I’d had to cancel another race 2 weeks previously, and as a result hadn’t really had much time to prepare, mentally or logistically, for slotting in a race so late, particularly a really long one where the mental dimension is so crucial. Maybe this was no bad thing as it meant my expectations were pretty low, and I didn’t overthink it. I was also trying out a bunch of new gear (major no-no in a race, I know, I know) for the first time. So because of all this, I was feeling a bit half-assed about the whole thing and pretty unsure how it would go.

Mingling before the start

My wife dropped me off at the start, at Ivinghoe Beacon. I had a great big breakfast of museli(mmm sawdust and dead flies) before leaving the house, followed by an awesome bacon and egg sandwich before the start that set me up well. The race had a split start – 10:00a for slower runners and 12:00 noon for the faster ones. I’d opted for the 10:00 start as I had no idea how it would go, and didn’t want to give myself any unnecessary time pressure (the first few checkpoint cut offs for the 12:00 starters were pretty tight, whereas I had loads of time). It started bang on 10:00 and about 30 of us set off. I pretty quickly had the unusual experience (for me) of being 5^th from the front (woohoo!). I was briefly tempted to sprint to the front shouting “eat my dust, looooosers!” but instead I more sensibly reined the pace in to move towards the back of the pack. I like to hang back at the start of long races, to avoid going off at too fast a pace, and I find it mentally very helpful to be able to pass people later.

The first 10 miles were mainly over rolling fields and hills with some great views. Fairly windy and cool weather – ideal running conditions. I hit the first checkpoint at roughly mile 10 in 2 hours, which felt like a good pace. I was deliberately avoiding pacing myself to precisely – rather, just going with the flow; running fast when it felt good and slowing or walking when I felt tired. I’ve done this before and it seems to be a good strategy on this type of hilly, varied terrain. It allows me to adjust to the terrain and always run well within my aerobic threshold, which also helps with eating enough. Mentally, it also takes away the stress of trying to hit given split times.

The next 10 or so miles were good going – the terrain dropped down into farmland, with a couple of short rainshowers. I had slotted into a nice pace at this point, and was just getting the miles in without thinking too much about what lay ahead. At 20 mile checkpoint they had hot tea, which really tasted great and perked me up hugely. I motored on through 32 miles, then had a 12 mile push to the half way checkpoint at mile 43. This was over fairly flat terrain, with one awesome downhill section along an old defensive earthenwork-type thingy called Grimm’s Dyke. 12 miles between checkpoints was actually a bit long, and I was definitely ready for the break. One thing that really helped me in general during this race was posting pictures and updates to my Facebook page. The responses were great and really helped me to keep going, knowing that other people were interested in my progress (well, at least pretending to be).

A couple of miles before the checkpoint another Northern Irish runner caught up with me and we chatted for a while, in the way that Northern Irish people always do when they meet each other anywhere in the world. It turned out he was doing the Spartathalon in a few weeks (135 miles [ed.- !!] in Greece), and was doing the first half of this race as a training run – he was going to drop out at the half way checkpoint. I was pretty impressed with that, then I discovered that he had also run what is probably the premier ultramarathon in the UK – the 145 mile Grand Union Canal Race – the previous year and come second. Needless to say, he soon headed off into the distance.

Dusk was just beginning as I got to the half way checkpoint, which was in a church hall in the village of Goring. It was nice and bright and warm inside – very welcome but also very dangerous. My plan was to get in and out of there as fast as possible, as I knew that once it got dark outside it would be very difficult to leave. I crammed a load of food down my neck - hot soup, bread, cookies, some chocolate and a can of Red Bull and changed into my night gear: long sleeve top, jacket, backpack and of course head torch. Just as I was about to leave – still wearing shorts as it had been pretty warm all day – I noticed that almost everyone else had put on tights. I remembered an ultrarunning piece of advice I’d read somewhere:

“if the people around you who are experienced in ultrarunning are all engaged in an activity, maybe you should think about doing that activity as well”.

So I put my tights on, and was very glad I did, as I wouldn’t have managed through the night without them. With all this faffing about choosing my outfit, checking my hair, and generally being high maintenance I had spent maybe 20 minutes in the church hall, and I just made it outside as it was getting dark.

I hit a low point mentally at this stage – transitioning from the cosy church hall to the darkening countryside, temperature dropping, feeling tired and with the prospect of running all night stretching before me – something I had never done before. I’d brought 2 torches along – a headtorch and a separate, very powerful hand torch. Once I switched on the head torch I felt a lot better – the light was very comforting. The hand torch was also a fantastic piece of kit – it provided a long distance, very focused beam, that I could use to look a good hundred yards ahead, while the head torch illuminated my immediate area.

Around 9pm I met up with another runner and ran with him for a while, till around midnight. This also lifted my spirits as it was good to have someone to talk to. The night section is a bit of a blur – I mainly remember plodding along the trails with the occasional welcome oases of checkpoints to break up the monotony, like little islands of light in the dark countryside. These were really well staffed and equipped – a big fire at one, hot dogs at another and super-helpful volunteers at all of them. The temptation to stay and hang out at the checkpoint, just for a few more minutes, was very hard to resist, but I had made a conscious decision in advance to spend minimal time at the checkpoints, as I would start to get cold and stiff and knew how hard it would quickly become to leave. I think I got ahead of quite a few runners by keeping my checkpoint stops very short. During the night I was drinking lots of tea, and eating fair bit which helped keep my energy up. My slightly slower nighttime pace also meant I could digest what I was eating well. I had however gotten sick of drinking my Nuun electrolyte replacement drink, and instead had been filling my water bottle with Coke. This was a genius move on my part - it tasted great to me and the caffeine and sugar surely helped a lot.

Just before dawn there was a long uphill stretch on a very exposed, windy and generally godforsaken hillside. This was also a section with 12 miles between checkpoints, which again felt very long, but I eventually hit the 78 mile checkpoint at maybe 7am. At this stage it was becoming very difficult to eat as I was getting increasingly nauseous – I managed a couple of pieces of Kiwi fruit and some Hula Hoops, and that was about it. 7 miles left to go, but I had heard a rumour that the distance was actually 87 – so didn’t let myself get too excited. Sure enough, just after mile 85 I saw a sign that said “2 miles”. The sun was up now though, it was mainly downhill and I was feeling good. I sped up for the last mile or so down the hill and put in a nice strong finish into the little village that marked the end.

Total time was 22 hours 8 minutes, and I finished 37^th out of 102, which I was very happy with. I had a delicious bacon sandwich at the finish, hung about and chatted with the organisers for a bit, then made my way back home on the train.

This was a fantastic, very well organised and supported race, over some of the most beautiful scenery the UK has to offer – and I’d heartily recommend it to anyone. Particularly if your idea of a fun vacation is no sleep, lots of junk food, smelling bad and running a distance that’s so far that it’s visible when seen from space...

----------------------------

See, told ya. He's insane.

Still, kinda makes me want to try it, just once.

Thanks, Marino

Good running,

Doug

Went to a party and a race broke out

2011-10-25T17:58:00.000-07:00

See... told ya.

The Back on My Feet 42K Relay was a total blast.

Over 95 Teams

Gorgeous location

Bitchin' course

Perfect morning

Some quotes... from real people... not made up, I promise:

"For sure the most fun I've ever had at a race!"
"I think all races should be just like yesterday."
"That was too fun. When's the next one?"
"You'll be able to spot your dad easy, he runs like a girl."*

There were some great performances put in on Sunday.

A two-person team finished 6th overall.
5 people ran the whole deal solo.
"The Firm" wore ties, long-sleeve shirts, and dress pants, for the duration. (Guys, you might want to read this post on chafing.)
We formed a circle of 400 people.
I passed The Flash, who wasn't nearly as fast as I'd been led to believe by the comic books.

There were hundreds of great stories created last Sunday morning.

There are also many great stories about how some of those runners found themselves on that bridge, surrounded by caring, loving, supportive friends that they didn't have just a few weeks ago. And about how they're running farther and faster and stronger than they ever could have dreamed that same few weeks ago. And about how far they've come personally, in so many ways, since that same few weeks ago. And there are even more great stories to come as they move forward in their personal journey of rediscovery, a journey that started with Back on My Feet.

One of my favorite stories, though, has nothing to do with that stuff, directly. It's the story of "McMarathoners", a CoEd, 2-person team, the members of which happen to be married... to each other. It's possible that they chose this approach so they wouldn't have to spend any time together during the relay. But I'm pretty sure that's not the case. A couple that can share a marathon, 2.2 miles at a time, has got something going on.

The McMarathoners also wore kilts

The real star of the event, though, was the event itself. With manageable distances and plenty of time to hang out, visit with friends, make new ones, it was a true celebration of running, and of the fellowship that runners share. That's fitting, really, considering that's the foundation on which Back on My Feet is built. The fantastic setting, the music, the goofy costumes, the loud cheers for runners coming in and going out, the even louder cheers for runners across the river, and the mingling of 95 teams of runners, my kind of people, made it one of the best races of any kind I've ever attended.

Everyone was smiling and laughing and chatting and having fun. And I don't just mean when they were on the bridge waiting to run. Out on the course I exchanged at least a couple words with everyone I passed, and everyone who passed me. I'm not talking about the usual "Good job" or "Looking good". I asked most of those I was running next to "Having fun?", and every single one of them replied with some form of "Hell yes! You?" That is the sign of a truly special event.

Until you've done a distance relay, you can't appreciate the camaraderie you feel with your team. And until you've done a short loop distance relay, you can't appreciate how much camaraderie you can feel for, and from, the other teams.

I personally want to thank my good friend Marty for lending his race to Back on My Feet and for the idea of having it in beautiful White River Park, and Beth for giving the green light (way better than a 5K, right?) and her most excellent leadership and daring to think that we might have as many as 70 teams, and I'm sure Brian did something helpful. And a huge virtual standing ovation for Lindsey for making it all actually real. You're a rock star!

Beth and Lindsey

And special thanks to Bob, Mike, and Eric for manning up and keeping it fun. Next time, a better name, better splits, and we're gonna tailgate until they kick us out.

10th over all, 7th in division,

#28 in your program but #1 in your hearts,

The Nerd Herd

Voted Sexiest Male Team (unofficially)

Good running,

Doug

*Thanks, Bob, for the gift that keeps on giving... the gift of perpetual ridicule from one's children.

Photos from GreenSky Media (Chris Thornberry), Kelly's Blog, and the GF.

Hard being a dad...

2011-10-17T18:19:00.000-07:00

... when you have to tell your son one of his heroes is gone.

The Duke and I wish you godspeed, Dan Wheldon.

Life, Death, and the Marathon

2011-10-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

It's not uncommon to hear about someone dying while competing in a marathon.

Just last weekend, William Caviness, a firefighter from North Carolina, died within a mile of the finish. (Story here). It's always heartbreaking. And it's a little frightening.

None of us want to drop dead on a run. And especially not in the middle of a race. And especially especially not within sight of the finish. If my number's up and I gotta go during a marathon, I really want to get my damn medal first.

We read the details, hoping to find a cause, a reason why they fell and we won't. But, they always seem to be "avid runners", "well trained", "fit for the race".

Holy crap! That could be me!

We runners like to think that what we do is good for us, makes us more healthy, will help us live longer, not kill us.

Any time I hear about a fellow runner dropping dead on a run, for weeks I will notice a little extra hint of tightness on my chest, or what seems like slightly more labored breathing, or some extra thumping from my heart as I climb a hill.

I start contemplating the math... how beats has my heart given me so far this life? How many more does it have left? Is this run adding to that total, or using a bunch of those precious beats up all at once?

But then I think of the other 40,000+ runners who had a great day last Sunday in Chicago. They came, they ran, they sweat through their shirts, they finished. Their hearts raced with anticipation at the start, and kept blood flowing for 26.2 miles, and each heart fluttered a bit when it crossed the finish line, and maybe skipped a beat or two when a its runner found a loved one waiting for them.

And I think about those finishers who are pushing the odds a lot more than I am, like Julian Gordon who finished the Chicago marathon at age 75. (Story here) He was second in his age group. That means that there are at least 2 crazy old men still running marathons. I plan to be one myself some day.

And there's the story of Amber and June Miller. Amber ran/walked the marathon 39 weeks pregnant. (Story here) That's just about as pregnant as you can get there folks. June also finished the marathon, inside Amber's belly, and was born shortly after her mom grabbed a post-race sandwich and made it to the hospital. I'm assuming she got a ride.

Amber and June Miller. That kid should get a finisher's medal.

Or maybe Amber should get two.

There are at least 39,998 other awesome stories of triumph and fun and laughs and tears of joy from that marathon. In the grand epic of life on planet earth, those stories will echo at least as long as the one terribly sad story.

You might die just short of the finish of your next race. Or while typing a blog post. Or while driving to meet some friends.

But how we go isn't really that important. It's what we do before our time, our unfairly short time, is up.

I like to spend a lot of my time with people like William, Julian, Amber, June, and the other folks who laced up last Sunday.

Good running,
Doug

Steve Jobs

2011-10-05T18:08:00.000-07:00

I never met Steve Jobs.

Still, I feel a great loss this evening.

Steve wasn't a runner, as fas as I know, but he had the heart of a runner. He plotted his course, his own course, and pounded it out. And he was never ok with anything other than the absolute best result possible.

Besides, he gave us the iPod, the distance runner's most loyal companion. And that's good enough reason for me to talk about him for a bit.

Steve built a company like no other company in the world, one that took on not only the computer giants, but also the collective notion, the very idea of what a computer was.

Then it was all taken away from him.

Then he went back and did it again.

And then he did it with music.

And then telephones.

And then computers again.

He thought differently. He wanted us to "think different".

I'm not quite naive enough to think that Steve did this for the betterment of mankind. He did it to make money. A lot of money. But he also had an insatiable drive to change the world.

I don't want to imagine a world without Toy Story, without an iPhone to map my run and snap a picture from a fountain, without FaceTime calls to my kids, without the Mac on which I'm writing this post.

I remember sitting in this same chair, with this same Mac, then only a few days old (the Mac, not me), when I started this blog. I can't explain it, but I know in my heart that the machine inspired me with its design. But even more importantly, when I needed to write, the design made sure that the machine didn't get in my way. On a PC, my writing would have been different. I would have been different.

Steve did change the world. He also, in a small way, changed me.

Thanks Steve.

I highly recommend reading the commencement speech Steve gave at Stanford. Read it and tell me you aren't inspired to do something insanely great.

"Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." Yeah, Steve was one of us, alright.

Good running,
Doug

New Shorts

2011-09-26T16:45:00.000-07:00

The first run in a new pair of shorts is like a first date.

I picked up a sweet pair of Nike Dry-Fit, high-cut (of course), bright-ass yellow shorts a few weeks ago at a summer gear blow-out.

Much like a phone number on a napkin, they sat on my dresser, waiting for the right moment. Eh, who am I kidding... waiting for me to summon up the courage.

Thing is, I'm way too particular about my shorts to throw on a new pair just because I can. I need to be in the right mood. I need to be ready to take a chance.

A misfitting pair of shorts can rub you wrong, or bind you up, or just not look as good as you thought. (Sounds a lot every online dating experience I've ever heard about.)

The shorts and I were out over lunch today and got along swimmingly. I'm confident it's the first of many.

Good running,
Doug

Chafing

2011-09-18T14:52:00.000-07:00

Know what happens when wet skin rubs against more skin, for an hour or so?

No, not that! Seriously, is that all you think about?

The other thing that happens when wet skin... yes, that one... chafing.

Chafing: noun \ˈchā-fiŋ-\ portable grate raised on a tripod, used for heating foods that require gentle cooking, away from the heat of direct flames.

Really? That's what you think we're talking about? Rubbing wet skin creates a buffet warmer? Um... no, that's a chafing dish. What keeps you from wandering into traffic?

Chafing: noun \ˈchā-fiŋ-\ wicked abrasion of the skin, especially painful, and often first noticed, in the shower and usually accompanied by an involuntary scream of agony and/or profanity. Caused primarily by running long distances while carrying a bit too much weight, and by carrying weight we don't mean bags of kitty litter, we mean you're skin is too full of stuff, making it rub against the skin across the way. - Webster's 73rd edition*

Runners chafe primarily in 3 areas. Here they are in order of prevalence:

Inner thighs - That paints a lovely picture, doesn't it? Two thighs rubbing against each other... Oh boy! Yeah, well just wait...
Between one's butt cheeks - See? A little worse, isn't it?
Inner arm and just below one's armpits - You were kinda scared that this one was going to be really gross, weren't you.

Armpit chafing is less prevalent. It's usually caused by a lot of arm swings and a lot of sweat on a really long run. Chubby arms will make it worse, but skinny arms are almost as susceptible.

Inner thigh chafing is pretty much always caused by having a little extra thigh meat down there. When you swing your legs back and forth, that extra meat can't help but bump into each other. Introduce a little sweat into the equation and you've got the makings of Frictionpalooza.

An easy way to avoid Frictionpulooza is to corral those rogue thighs inside appropriately high-tensile Lycra shorts or tights. Properly contained, they can't rub. Problem solved. Kinda.

The squeezing nature of Lycra can be used for good and evil. What confines thighs will also squeeze cheeks, leading to skintastrophy #2 (unfortunate number for this one). That's not to say that #2 can't occur all on it's own, but cramming your trunk into an elastic vice is going to make it way more likely.

So what are chafing sufferers to do? Choose between smoldering thighs or a crack flame-up? Just accept that for a day after a long run we'll have to hold your arms out to your sides in the classic "Look Mommy, I'm an airplane" pose?

"They called my row. Will someone please pickup my purse?"

No, of course not.

The solution to chafing, and so many more of life's unpleasantries, is lubrication. No not Vaseline. That goop stains clothes and doesn't last very long. Plus, application goes something like this...

No one wants to see this.

The best way, in my educated opinion**, to avoid turning your skin against itself is BodyGlide.** Yeah, I know it sounds like it might be something kinda, you know, dirty... but I assure you, it's not. It comes in a tube just like a stick deodorant.

And you apply it just like one too, right on the hot spot. But, remember to apply it BEFORE your run. A couple swipes on each inner thigh, or above and below your pits, or, you know, right there in the crack of dawn, and you'll avoid that big surprise/scream of agony in the shower. And you won't spend the day walking around like this...

"No. No. Don't touch me! I ran 20 this morning and I'm chafed like a baboon's butt."

- Nicole Richie

Good running,

Doug

*Not actually in dictionary, not that way at least.
**I'm a fan of BodyGlide because it has worked well for me for years. No money, no sponsorship, not even any free BodyGlide, though I would gladly accept all of these and man I'd whore myself out like you wouldn't believe.

***BodyGlide also works well preventing the dreaded bloody nipple syndrome, and hotspots on your feet from running shoe friction.

Images from here and here and here and here and here and here.

Worse Than Slow

2011-09-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

Time flies like an arrow.*

We either get older, or we die. Thinking about it that way makes getting older not quite so bad.

What I'm struggling with is the idea that older means slower, and by slower, I mean not running as fast, not more feeble minded, though I can see where you were going with that.

When I was in high school, I was fast. But everyone's fast in high school. All of those muscles and tendons are still under warranty. In college, I was really fast, and strong. I didn't look it, but hidden under the math major clothes and bad haircut was some pretty serious giddy-up. But this was track stuff. Not really much place for it after graduation.

After college I stopped running all together. Got a job. Got married. Got fat.

I started distance running a few years later. I started from the bottom. I'd never run more than 2 miles at one time in my life, and hadn't run a step in years. As the years ticked off, I steadily improved. Eventually, I got to be pretty decent at it. I'd race, a lot, and usually finished toward the front, just a place or two away from an age-group award. I was fairly fast, fairly strong, and fairly thin.

Then I got divorced. My running's never really been the same since.

It's not the divorce's fault. Not really. But I don't think it's a coincidence that my running was at it's best when my marriage was at its worst. That's not to say that running ruined my marriage, either. In fact, it probably prolonged it.

About two years after my divorce, my good friend and former running buddy Dave**, after listening to me complain about my prolonged running slump, said "Maybe you aren't running as much now because you don't have to."

Of course, he was right. Dave's pretty much always right.

At the time, running was an escape. It gave me the chance to leave an uncomfortable situation behind me, physically and mentally, even if just for an hour or two. It was also a distraction. Rather than dealing with the unpleasantness in my home life, I spent hours on long runs, training plans, and race preparations. And it was a release. Running hard, pushing my body beyond its limits, vented stress and anxiety in the form of sweat and heat.

You can only escape and distract and release for so long. Reality catches up with you. An acquaintance of mine ran to the point of multiple stress fractures in her feet before admitting to herself that her marriage had to end. For me it was a freak misstep that fractured a bone in my foot. Three months without running left me without escape, distraction, or release. I was defenseless. I had no choice but to face my life. It was painful and unpleasant and awful. It was also necessary.

That was 10 years ago. Today, I'm older. And slower. And happier. And she's happier, too.

I'd really like to be fast again. But if I have to choose between running 6:30s and living an unhappy life, or 8:30s and the life I have today, it's an easy choice. I'm going to keep working on getting stronger and faster, but if you're looking for me, you'd probably want to look somewhere toward the middle of the pack.

Good running,
Doug

*Fruit flies like a banana.
** Dave's given up running for yoga and a life with functioning knees.

Image from here.

More Fountains

2011-09-10T11:05:00.000-07:00

Need to catch up on my recent fountain adventures.

Carmel "Art and Design District" - July 16th

I've been in this one before, Day 107 of the streak to be precise. But this dip was required payment, up front, to get my youngest to take his own little dip (not pictured, but trust me, it's great video).

King's Island... I know! - August 7th

This is a big one, folks. And not easy to pull off. The good folks at King's Island take their fountain pretty seriously and they don't care much for people who choose to defile it. But I found a lower than average area of fencing and made it in and out before anyone became too outraged. My shorts were soaked, though. It's much deeper than it looks. (BTW, the pink floating things aren't flowers, they're pink floating Snoopie's that one can drop in the fountain if one makes a donation to a breast cancer foundation. They didn't seem to mind sharing the fountain with me... much.)

Indianapolis - Canal Plaza East - August 27th

Indianapolis - Canal Plaza West

It's not too often that you get two big-ass fountains a couple hundred feet apart. And even more rare is relatively easy access to the top of one of those big-ass fountains...

The top bowl of Canal Plaza West - August 27th

And that brings us to today. The youngest and I were walking to the farmer's market and decided to explore a bit. We wondered around Carmel's City Center and came to a big open plaza. The boy said, "Uh oh, Dad. There's a fountain. You gonna get in it?" He's turning into a bit of a fountain guy himself. I couldn't let the boy down, now could I...

Atop parking garage at Carmel City Center. - September 10

Since they're still laying bricks for the plaza, I feel pretty same claiming "First!"

I highly recommend jumping into fountains. The less planned the better. When you see one, don't think about it, just take off your shoes, roll up your jeans, and step in.*

Sure, you're probably breaking someone's rule, but you're not going to hurt anyone or damage anything. Rules that serve only to keep us from enjoying the whimsy of life are meant to be flaunted.

And it you can get a picture of it, send it to me and I'll post it.

Come on, it's fun!

Good running,
Doug

*Remember my rules of fountain defamation:
1) Don't get into a fountain you if can't see the bottom.
2) Touch the water with your hand before you get in to make sure it isn't going to electrocute you.
3) Be careful not to step on any lights or wires, also to avoid electrocution.
Oh, and if you're asked to get out, or not get in, politely comply. The dude's only doing his job, enforcing a pointless rule.

Long Runs Suck

2011-09-06T18:17:00.000-07:00

They sit on your training schedule like tombstones, all lined up, each a little more ominous than the next. To be trained for your race, you have to do them. And they know it.

For a week they sit there staring at you with that look of contempt. "You don't seriously think you can beat me, right?"

And it works. You haven't run that far in months, maybe ever. And how long is it going to take? What?! I have things to do! Whoa... I need to get up when? Those numbers aren't even on my clock! Too often, the long run wins without a fight.

If you do make it out, the first miles seem to take days, and are only a tiny fraction of what you have to cover. You start to do the math: "I already feel like a pound of crap. I'm only 10% done. By the time I'm finished I'm going to feel like 10 pounds of crap." You're not even sure what that means, but it definitely not encouraging.

And then you hit it.

Every long run presents you with a reason to quit. A perfectly understandable, reasonable, explainable, not your fault reason to turn your ass around and go home, or better yet, call a cab.

Here was mine...

The route I'd carefully planned included a bridge with a perfectly safe pedestrian path that I've run across a couple hundred times. But I haven't run that far in quite a while.

As I approached the bridge not quite 3 pounds of crap into my run, I realized that it was way under construction, as in there really wasn't a bridge left on the pedestrian path side anymore, which I knew from having driven over it a different couple hundred times but had forgotten. You don't really notice the presence or absence or sidewalks when your driving.

The construction erased the perfectly safe pedestrian path. What bridge there was left was 100% assigned to cars. Just on the other side of those concrete barriers were speeding cars driven by texting teenagers, husbands heading out to drink beer and drive an electric cart around a big yard for 4 hours under the guise of "playing golf", and some really pissed off wives with errands to run who were screaming to their friends and/or sisters through their cell phones about how their husbands are not help at all. That's just my best guess, but still, not a good place to run.

The dog looked up at me, wondering why the hell we were still here. "Surely that idiot isn't thinking I'm going across this."

This was the moment when I could have turned back. The dog was all for it. No one would have said a thing. No one except the long run, whispering "I knew you didn't have it in you."

Being a long distance runner is as much about defeating those voices inside your head as it is beating a rival, or a time goal, or a distance. It's about pushing yourself when you really don't want to. And more, it's wanting to be challenged just so you can prove to yourself that you can do it.

Looking closely, with the eyes of someone looking for a solution, not an excuse, I saw that the construction left a lip of about 15 inches of concrete, right up against the barriers, littered with rusted loose nails, that seemed to go all the way across. We took it slow. Stepped carefully. And when we reached the other side safely, we flipped the long run, and the bridge, a righteous bird, and pressed on.

The rest of the run was actually enjoyable. My pace picked up. I felt better, stronger. Once over that bridge I knew I was going to get it done.

That's the feeling we're looking for when we head out for a long run.

Good running,
Doug

42K Relay

2011-08-31T18:56:00.000-07:00

Most runners have never run a relay. And that's a pity.

I'm not talking about a 4x100 relay on a track in high school. I'm talking about an adult relay. And I don't mean it's "adult" the way an adult bookstore is adult. I mean it's for grown ups.

There are a couple flavors of relays. The most popular is the "point-to-point". That means your team starts at one point, takes turns running a bit, and ends somewhere else... somewhere way the hell far away from where you started. And unless you all want to run from the start to way the hell far away, you need a van.

There are A LOT of vans

It's fun to decorate your van

These are our kind of people

You also need some rules.. like No Butt Baton*

The van takes the team, minus the one team member who happens to be running at that time, from one handoff location to the next. Usually, these exchanges are in the middle of nowhere.

The middle of Southern Illinois' nowhere

Everyone piles out of the van, the next runner takes the baton from the just-finished runner, the team cheers, and then everyone, minus the new runner, gets back into the van. This happens many times because everyone runs 3 or 4 or more times during the race. Eventually, you and your teammates start to get a little loopy...

My friend Joe is actually quite brilliant and normal. I swear.

I've done three of these. They are a total blast.

But...

It takes a lot of work to pull off a point-to-point relay. Depending on the distance, these relays can take 10-24 hours to complete. The logistics are complex. If you don't have a veteran in the van, one who knows the course and the stops and the best places to park the van, and someone who happens to own a big-ass van, then you're in for a long day. And no matter what you do, your van will smell like funky runner for the long ride home.

Again, these relays are totally worth the time and expense and travel.

But...

There's an alternative.

There are the rare "loop" relays that cover the required distance one loop at a time. Instead of a everyone minus the current runner riding from exchange to exchange stinking up the van, the team members who aren't running get to hang out and socialize with the other teams until it's their turn to run. When it's your turn to run, you meander to the one common exchange zone, take the baton, your team cheers, you run your loop and return to the same spot where everyone welcomes you back.

It's essentially a big party disguised as an endurance relay. The real beauty of the loop relay is that it's ultra low maintenance. Anyone can do it. Seriously... anyone.

Sounds like fun, right? Excellent... I have a proposition for you.

On Sunday October 23, the good folks at Back on My Feet are putting on a 42K relay in the unfairly beautiful setting of White River Park in downtown Indianapolis.

I'm tellin' ya... beautiful

The loop is a 2.2 mile course that runs along the river on sidewalks and asphalt paved trail, crossing the river twice (via bridges... they don't make us ford the river), with the start/finish right by the NCAA headquarters. It's gorgeous, with fantastic views of downtown, just the distraction you need to make a 2.2 mile loop effortless. Each team member will run just 3 loops, with about an hour in between to hang out and meet new running friends.

You can run 2.2 miles, right? Sure you can! And I assure you, no one will care how fast you run. As soon as the gun goes off (or someone says "Go!" since I doubt there will be an actual gun going off) it's not about winning, it's about having a great time.

Plus, the total distance covered by your team is only 42K, which is 26.2 miles, marathon distance. So even if you take your sweet-ass time, you'll be home for lunch, unless you and your team stop off at a nearby pub, or dinner, or other such social venue to celebrate your heroic efforts. Still, home by 3:00pm, easy. Plenty of time to mow the lawn. Or nap. I'll be napping.

So here's my proposition. If you can field your own 42K Relay team, you are awesome! Here's the link: Back on My Feet 42K Relay. Get your team together, sign up, and come find me on race day. I'll be the guy in shorts that are too short for 2011 fashion norms. Better yet, drop me an email (dougrun365@gmail.com) or post a comment below with your team name and I'll come find you. We'll high-five, or fist bump, and acknowledge our mutual awesomeness!

However, for those who are interested but don't want to go through the hassle of recruiting 3 other runners, then drop me an email (dougrun365@gmail.com), or post a comment, and I will find you a team. What a great way to meet new running buddies! I promise you will be on a team that will be thrilled as hell to have you as a teammate.

This is a fantastic event, at a perfect venue, at a great time of year, for an insanely great cause. And I guarantee you will have a wonderful morning of running and fellowship with the best people in the world... your running brothers and sisters.

Good running,
Doug

*Butt Baton is the ill-advised practice of shoving one end of the team's communal baton down the back of one's shorts. Carrying it traditionally in one's hand, or in any other no-fecal-transfering method, is highly preferred over Butt Baton.

Images from me and my past relay teammates here and here.

Running Through Depression

2011-08-30T09:31:00.000-07:00

I've never finished a run and not felt better than I did before the run.

But too often, when we need a run the most... (sigh)... we just can't do it.

When you're in a deep funk, you forget that running will make you feel better because you're pretty sure nothing will help you feel better. Ever.

So, you skip the run.

And you regret skipping the run. You might even hate yourself for skipping the run.

And the funk gets just a little deeper.

Rinse and repeat.

At first you can play it off to over-training, or a bad day, or you might even blame the weather. But it doesn't take long before you know that you're letting yourself down. And it feels like you're powerless to fix it.

Truth is, you aren't powerless at all. You just need to disrupt the cycle.

How do you fight the hopelessness of depression, pushing it back long enough to put on your running shoes and get out the door? You take the choice out of it. You make yourself run because you know it will lead you back.

The best way to lift yourself out of that dark place is to do something every day that makes you feel better about yourself. Everyday you remind yourself of the best version of you, the version that you want to be again. Everyday you get a little closer. Every day you feel a little better, even if just for a while.

But when you're in a funk, you aren't yourself. You literally are not in your right mind. You can't trust yourself to make good decisions all of the time. You need someone, or something, to keep you on track.

Here's what works for me...

Make out a schedule, something realistic, something very doable, something that will work for you. Do this at a time when you're feeling half-way decent.
Commit yourself to following it for a set number of days or weeks, 100%, without exception. It takes time and effort to climb out of a dark hole, and each day on the schedule is one step closer to the top.
Treat your schedule like a drill sergeant. Do what it says. Don't think about it, just do it. Skipping or cutting short is just an opportunity for self-loathing to join the party.
DO NOT think you can skip the schedule part and just run when you feel like it, because you won't feel like it.
You don't have to run every day. You don't have to run at all. You do have to do something else on the days you don't run, like yoga, or cycling, or swimming, or walking, or journaling, or reading, or meditating. Just do something that makes you feel better after you do it than you did before you started.
Be selfish. You need this time to get out of your funk. Don't let anything or anyone keep you from your schedule. It's like the flight attendants say... "Put on your mask first, then help others who might need help."
Enlist supporters. Have buddies meet you for an early morning run, or to drag you out for a walk at lunch. Tell the yoga instructor that you have made a promise to yourself to come every week for two months and just wait until you see the support you get.
If you stumble, don't quit. Pick yourself up and start over.
Even if you start to feel better, and you will, follow through with your commitment, complete the entire schedule. The early-onset euphoria will be replaced with a long-lasting sense of pride and accomplishment that will help you through rough patches later.
When you finish, enjoy your accomplishment. Be proud of what you have overcome. Look inside and around you and notice how much better you feel and how much brighter the world looks.
Then, set a new goal, workout a schedule, and take your next leap forward.

The runner that you want to see in the mirror is inside you. And that runner's ready to go. Just let him/her show you.

Ignore the doubts and the excuses. Put your shoes on and run.

It only takes a few steps to remind you that it really does make things better.

Good running,
Doug

PS - I'm not a doctor or a shrink. If you feel you are depressed, see a professional. If you need meds, take them. But also do something for yourself, every day.

Image from here.

Running Against the Demon Within

2011-08-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

I've spent a lot of time writing about how great running is.

I stick by that.

Nothing's better for clearing your mind of the fog that an average day leaves behind.

Running's the best way to rid your body of stress, and pounds.

Running is the purest form of exercise you can do, and I always feel better after a run than I did before.

But running's not always fun.

When you can run exactly as far as you want to, and exactly as fast as you want to, like you did when you were a kid, it's glorious.

When you have goals, when you are pushing yourself, when you're retraining your body to be faster, or to run longer, there are moments of less than delight.

Running for running's sake is wonderful. Running to stay fit is pleasant. Running to get into good running shape is work.

There's something extra crappy about turning something you love into work.

As soon as you start to measure your run, by the mile, or by the minute, or in the worst case, both, you build in the opportunity for disappointment, even failure. This is especially so when you are far from your goal.

There are moments of despair. There are times when you hear a tiny voice saying that you'll never be as fast or as strong as you want to be. That's your brain talking, and your brain's job is to keep you alive. To the brain, uncomfortable is a couple steps in the wrong direction from alive.

Your brain is protecting itself from you, and your intellect. It's your intellect that has you outside, running past comfortable, knowing that the effort will make you better.

But the brain is strong, and loud, and if you're mentally weak, it can take over. Becoming a stronger runner is as much a mental process as it is physical. In fact, wrestling the brain's rationalizations and fear is a lot harder than running farther, or faster.

When you defeat the demon inside your skull, it's exhilarating and liberating. When the demon gets the best of you, it makes for a shitty run.

My run today: Demon 1 Me 0.

Rematch tomorrow.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here.

Funerals

2011-08-04T12:20:00.000-07:00

Went to a funeral yesterday.

Funeral was for the GF's uncle, a really great guy.

He was also a veteran. That means he got military honors.You've probably seen military honors on TV... Arlington National Cemetery, marines in white gloves and crisp dress uniforms, rifles firing a 3-volley salute in perfect unison, a bugler playing taps, then the snapping of the flag as it's folded with precision and dignity, and then presented with whispers of gratitude from our country to the family.

That's what we saw yesterday, sorta. This service had a volunteer group that provides military honors for all branches of the military. These are retired military men. They've been retired for a long time. I think I overheard one of them talking about facing Napoleon.

They wore white gloves, but they weren't very crisp. Let's just say that their snap, crackle, and pop have been sitting in milk for a while. The rifle shots were pretty good. And the flag folding went ok. Where the whole thing kinda came undone was Taps.

For my money, Taps is the one thing you really need to do right. It's a funeral. Our volunteers do not include a bugler. Or a trumpet player. Or a tuba player. Instead, it's a guy holding what at least at one time was a bugle. Inside the "bugle" is a speaker that plays a very nice version of Taps, and possibly Reveille, and maybe Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy.

I'm not saying you have to have a bugler play taps. Recorded taps is cool. But I'd rather have a bugler play taps poorly than recorded taps. And the last option I'd chose is to have recorded taps played from a speaker inside a bugle, with a guy, a very nice volunteer, holding to his lips. It seems wrong. It's especially wrong if the bugler hits the play button, and waits for a bit with the bugle pressed to his lips, and nothing happens, so he takes a look inside the exit end of the bugle to see if he'd switched it on incorrectly, only to have taps start up, and then he puts the bugle back to his lips. That kinda kills the illusion. Actually, there wasn't much of the illusion left to kill anyway.

Still, it was nice. And I think it's awesome that these old soldiers come out to see to their fallen brothers-in-arms. They were respectful and solemn and gave the service a strong honor vibe.

I was never in the military. There won't be rifle shots, or a folded flag, or even taps played from a magic bugle. And I'm totally cool with that.

Still, it got me thinking. I think it would be great to find a way to honor fallen runners, and by fallen, I mean dead, not just on the ground. It would be nice to have a way to recognize a fellow runner's love for our sport, to send them off.

Here's my idea... during the funeral, at the grave site*, a small group of volunteer runners emerge from over a hill, or around a corner, or somewhere else out of sight, and silently run by the grave site and off back out of sight again, like a flyover.

Imagine it... the grievers, all in black, under umbrellas because there's a light rain, all turning when they hear the footfalls off in the distance, and each turning, slowly, following the runners as they pass, imagining their loved one running with them, and then turning back to the grave when they are out of site. Wouldn't that be cool?

I'll volunteer for runner's honor duty. Who's with me?

Good running,
Doug

*For runners who are being cremated, we could have a ceremonial run-by after the memorial service, or when they are taking the casket out, or something. We'd make it work, without running up and down aisles of a funeral home.

Images from here and here.

Pay Back

2011-08-02T22:02:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I used my dark corner of the internet to ask you above-average looking readers to help me help a tremendously awesome organization, Back on My Feet. (You can click the link back there at the beginning to learn just how awesome it is.)

Today, it's time for some pay back. Time for me to fulfill my part of the bargain. The post is a little long, but worth the read, even if you aren't one of the featured, if only to see a sample of the good people that have gathered here, people like you.

So, without further ado, flattering anecdotes about the generous donors.

Patrick - Pat lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, yet doesn't work for Amway. He works for Microsoft. That's how I came to know Patrick. And as it turns out, I was later to learn, he's also a runner. I understand that there are many a business relationship that are cemented on the golf course. But I don't think there's a better way to get to know someone than to go out on a run with them. My first run with Patrick was in Indianapolis on my favorite little trail behind the office. Unfortunately, the quaint little trail was covered with a quaint 8 inches of snow. Ever tried to follow a completely snowed over trail in the woods? Not easy. But it made for a good, slow, adventurous run. And Patrick didn't complain once, despite the obvious risk to life and/or limb. Since then, Patrick and I have met up for runs when we are in the same place at the same time and both have gear. Oh, and he also plays violin. Like really plays. Like in symphonies and stuff. If you're ever on a run with Patrick, ask him about the violin, it's a good story. Thanks Pat for your donation and your friendship.

Jane - I'm related to Jane... somehow. Not sure how, really. She's floating around somewhere on my step-dad's side. I'm not even sure when I last saw her and her husband Roger. Probably at a funeral. But what I do remember is that at family gatherings, I was always glad when they showed up. They were always fun to talk to, interesting, and funny. And thanks to the glory that is Facebook, Jane has found Doug Runs 365. She's become a frequent commenter and "like"-er, and she gave to Back on My Feet. Thank you Jane, for your donation, and your friendship over many years.

Holly - Holly is my step-sister. She's an audiologist. She's good people. She married a Canadian, Peter, who is also good people. I have many fun stories about Holly, like her dinner with legendary NHL coach Jacques Demers, but I'm going to limit myself to just one. For this one, we need to go back to 1990 when I was married, a newlywed in fact. For our first vacation as a couple we decided to go to the IndyCar race in Toronto. Just so happened that that was where Holly lived, pre-Peter. She graciously put us up for a week in her apartment. I had my first calzone at an Italian hole-in-the-wall that was in her neighborhood. She even drove us to Niagara Falls. But what I remember most about that trip was her collection. Holly had every episode of The Fugitive*... recorded from over-the-air broadcasts... on Betamax tapes. I thought that was so crazy, and cool. Thanks to you, and Peter, for your hospitality, and your generous donation to Back on My Feet.

Scott Van Dyke - Scott and I work together. The first story I always tell about Scott, which really has nothing to do with Scott, involves the system we used a couple years ago for performance reviews. It had this feature that, in principle, was a good idea, but in practice, was ridiculous. The idea was that along with checking for spelling and grammatical errors in your write up, it would also look for potentially offensive slang, and suggest a less offensive term. Everyone who provided feedback for Scott was treated to the suggestion that perhaps he should be referred to as Scott Van Lesbian. Still makes me laugh. Not very flattering, though. Scott is the most selfless dad I know. He spends every moment he isn't at work, sleeping, or on the toilet, shuttling one of his kids to a game or practice or tournament or awards banquet. And this isn't the run of the mill "Let's watch Susie pick daisies in the outfield" stuff. His kids are studs. And he or his wife are often the coach. So they're all-in, every evening, every weekend. Vacations are spent at big-deal tournaments. And Scott never misses a beat. We joke about him going "postal" one day, and of all the people in the office, he's my pick to snap, but I'm pretty sure he loves it. He's also in great shape, hs been known to run every once in a while, eats raw meat and pork rinds, and drinks Mountain Dew by the pitcher. Thanks Scott for your donation to Back on My Feet, and for friendship in the office, and on motorcycle rides.

Mary Ann - Mary Ann is also a co-worker, and she's a little nuts. First, she bought a condo in what is, for all intents and purposes, a retirement village. Then, without selling the condo, she moved to Asheville, NC. And she loves it. But we hate it because she's not around nearly enough. She's the most cheerful person in the office. Even when she's pissed, she's pissed with a joke and smile on her face. And she's funny as hell. What I like most about Mary Ann is her vagabondness. She seems to be always on her way to somewhere, or just back from somewhere else. I love that she has two homes, and an RV. And she's a dog person, so we know she's alright. Mary Ann, thanks for your donation to Back on My Feet, and your friendship. Next time you're in town, we shall drink beer, because, as you know, Mr. White needs a Guinness.

Marino - Marino is the GF's brother-in-law. He's Irish-Italian, lives just outside London. And he's a hell of a runner. And not like me, a few miles here and there, maybe a marathon kind of runner. This guy's gone loony. Last fall he let his brother talk him into running a 40 mile race. 40 miles, with essentially no special training. (One might argue that you can't really prepare for a 40 mile race, but still.) I think an excerpt from his race report will give you a good idea what he's like, and why we get on so well...

A tactic that worked enormously well was to adopt a run/walk strategy from mile 25 (5 minutes running, 1 minute walking). That provided a physical break for the muscles, while also allowing us to break the distance down into tiny, manageable chunks. In our strategy, the next 5 minute block always felt achievable, whereas thinking in terms of "another 20 miles" was pretty horrible. As I recall advocating to my brother, "If you have to eat a shit sandwich, cut it up into little canapes first."

It did become impossible to eat and drink towards the end, as our bodies began rejecting food and water. The thought of eating even an energy gel made me nauseous. Mark (my brother) was getting brief blackouts in his vision, and I was on a manic, babbling high for the last 5 or 10 miles. Post race, I crashed HARD, and thought I would either throw up or pass out on the train back to the start (thankfully a nice Burger King double bacon cheeseburger fixed me up nicely). Back home our wives did think we both looked pretty grey, and that we had "seen the fear".

All that aside, I had a great time, and I'd definitely do it again!

If, as you read that, you got that "Oh, man, how horrible. I wish I could have done that." and you weren't surprised at all when you read "I'd definitely do it again!", when you're one of us. You should run with us. He's since completed a few marathons, a 50 miler, and is getting ready for a 100 mile race. Let that sink in for a bit. Marino is a doting father and husband, and just a damned good guy. Thanks, mate, for your donation (yes, Back on My Feet takes Euros or pounds or whatever eBay is paying you in), and for your friendship. Run soon, man. And save us a good spot for the Olympics next summer.

Bob - Roudy Bob was an overweight, unhappy, smoker when I met him. Now, he's a poster boy for what running can do for your body and your outlook on life. Bob's one of the smartest dudes I know, and not just because he's marrying Trena. When we worked together, I liked watching him in meetings. He could read a room, and turn it to his way of thinking. He's relentless, but in a way that makes you want to keep talking. Personally, he's pretty easy-going, and funny as hell. And what I really like about him is that he isn't shy about being sincere and telling you what he thinks, even what he feels. He's become a hell of a runner. I remember well reading his FB post about his semi-impromptu 13 mile run around Paris. And much to my delight, he's even taken to defiling fountains. Nothing makes my evening like getting an MMS from doesn't matter where, with a picture of Bob up to his knees in a fountain. Bob, thanks for your generous donation to Back on My Feet, and for all of the great talks we've had, on the run and otherwise. Been too long, man. We need to get a run in.

Scott - Scott used to work together. He was the first guy I could stand at Aprimo. We sat in adjoining cubes. I enjoyed, and respected, his ability to summarize a situation with one dagger of a line. With one short sentence, he would have my forehead on my desk, laughing my ass off. He's a devoted dad. He's smart, without being a dick about it. He's a beer geek, in the best sense of the term. And he's a runner. Yet we've never run together. Yep, I've know this little bitch for like 12 years, and he's been running for at least the last three or four, hell, the punk even trained for a half-marathon last spring, but did he ever call me up for a run? Uh, no. Well times up, "Daffron". Even though you got pipped by a dollar for the highest donation, the sniper has requested a different form of compensation, so you're the big winner. You ~~get~~ have to run with me, and this run will include a shared fountain experience. And if you get your hair cut, we'll put a picture up from the run. Thanks for your insanely generous donation, for your beer advice, for all of the laughs, and for your friendship. He's a good one, girls, and rest assured, that's like a cousin or something in the picture. He's plenty single. And I'm pretty sure he's straight.

Robin - RoHo was the grand prize winner and she has requested a substitute prize that will be served up in this here corner of the internet as soon as I finish it. Which means I need to start it, I guess. But she still gets flattery... She's the wisest person I know, and she doesn't even know it. (That doesn't make her any less wise, just modest.) She's a fervent foodie, a wonderfully open and warm yoga teacher, a fantastic writer, and the best traveler I have ever seen. You all should bookmark and keep up with her Twisted Pigeon blog where she puts so much of life into perspective and reminds us what we should be working on, as well as what we should just let go of. And she does all of that in small, impeccably well written, bites. And you should also bookmark and follow the travel blog that she keeps with her husband Bill, Bagette Travel Tips, unless you are a hermit, in which case you wouldn't really appreciate the wisdom and wit and travel-porn that they provide. If you are lucky enough to have spent time with Robin, you know that her circuitous route through life has made her an insightful, hilarious, and fascinating person, and like me, you're lucky to know her. Thank you Robin for your insanely, and only slightly snipey, donation to Back on My Feet, for your writing, for reading my stuff, for your advice, for your hospitality, and your friendship.

Ok, I'm all paid up. My goal was $180, 1/10th of what it takes to help one person get their life together. These people gave a total of $411 to Back on My Feet. I have wonderful, generous friends/family/readers. If any more of you would like to make a donation to this amazing organization, it's not too late, just click here. It's too late to win the grand prize, but I will happily say something nice about you here at Doug Runs 365.

Good running,
Doug

*I hope I remember that right. Holly will tell me if I don't.

All photos lifted from Facebook or Twitter.

Impulse

2011-07-25T19:23:00.000-07:00

I pride myself on my ability to resist the impulse buy.

I almost never buy anything displayed in the checkout line. Except gum, and that's only because that's where they put gum.

When I need a new pair of jeans, I go to a store and buy jeans, not jeans and a shirt and another shirt and a jacket that looks great in the window with that other shirt that I also don't buy.

I didn't buy even any of the 5 motorcycles I test-rode on Saturday.

It might seem like I have some kind of super anti-mass-marketing discipline. Truth is, one time I had an impulse that seemed like a good idea at the time, so I did it, and almost immediately regretted... for the next 11 years.

Today, tough, just a couple hours ago, I read this blog post from Loving the Run, and within minutes I'd registered for the Big Sur Marathon.

Impulse buy? No. More like carpe-ing the diem.

Since wrapping up my running and writing streak last year, I've been floundering a bit. I've been looking for my next big thing. Well, actually, it's more like I've been waiting for my next big thing to find me. And it hasn't.

This was the kick in the butt I needed:

"Life is short. We need to seize opportunities when they’re presented to us. Ultimately, I believe inaction creates the most regret."

F'in-A, man! It's about time I got off my butt and bought a new motorcycle!

Wait, no, that's not what I meant... heh, heh... "Paging Dr. Freud".

It's about time I took a step toward a new adventure, specifically a running related adventure.

What's been holding me back these past few months? Really, it's pretty simple. The streak went great. It was a tremendously rewarding experience, and ultimately, a huge success, for me. I ran, outside, every day of 2010, and I wrote, every day, in 2010. I learned a lot about myself, what I'm capable of, what I love, what I need to be happy and mentally healthy.

With that success to live up to, I've been hesitant to take on anything else. I'd rationalize ideas away because I wasn't in good enough shape, or the logistics were too messy, or it might cost too much. But at the root of it all, I was afraid I'd fail. I was afraid I'd regret taking it on and not succeeding. But as the post says, inaction creates more regret, more than failure does.*

So I will be working on my bucket list, posting it here when it's ready, of course, and somewhere on there will be Big Sur Marathon, with a big red circle around it. This will be my 11th marathon**, but my first in quite a few years. I don't know if I'll complete it. I don't even know if I'll make it through the training. But that's part of the fun, isn't it?

Get out your bucket list, pick one to cross off, and get on it.

Good running,
Doug

*Note: Be sure to balance the potential regret of inaction with the possibility of long term regret from making a really bad life-long decision. The downside of entering a marathon does not compare to the downside of marrying the wrong person, just as an example (cough).

** Indianapolis, Chicago, Sunburst, Columbus, NYCM, Philly, Twin Cities, Marine Corp, NYCM, Tecumseh

Image from here and here.

Jumping Jacks? Seriously?!

2011-07-23T16:01:00.000-07:00

Yes, seriously.

Though I find it hard to believe that I don't know everything, apparently it really is never too late to learn something new.

The new thing I've learned, thanks to our Back on My Feet team leaders, is that good old fashioned calisthenics are a great way to warm up for a run.

Again, yes, seriously. The same old calisthenics that our parents did in Phys. Ed. classes, way back in the olden times.

I used to stretch before a run, but I've found, and subsequently read, that stretching after a run, when your muscles are all warm and supple, builds better flexibility. Further, stretching before a run not only doesn't really warm your muscles very much, but can also, once you start running, put your legs through a greater range of motion than they are really ready for.

So then I did, well, nothing before a run. This usually resulted in groans, and visions of hamstrings and Achilles popping like old banjo strings.

Then, a few weeks ago, I started running with the BOMF group. I'll admit, when we circled up and our leader said, "Ok, 25 jumping jacks. Ready... begin... 1, 2..." I thought it was a practical joke. "This'll be great. Let's see if we can get the new guy to do jumping jacks." But they kept going... to 25. And then there was more. It seemed, frankly, ridiculous.

It wasn't until after my third or fourth BOMF run that I noticed I had no stiffness or soreness after the run. After some trial and error, it became evident that the ridiculous warm up was the key.

Now, I do it before every run. Now I can tell you, it's easier to pull off jumping jacks and windmills in a group than by yourself. In a circle with team members, it's an activity. On your own in a parking lot, it's just odd.

Not being one to worry too much what other people think, I'm sticking with these.

Here's what we do.

25 Jumping jacks

20 Trunk Twists

20 Windmills

(I used to get nauseous doing this in gym as a kid.)

20 High Knees

(Be sure not to lean back on these.)

20 heal kicks

(Ideally, your heal kicks your booty.)

This whole routine takes just a couple of minutes.

Release your inner Jack LaLanne,* and give it a try before your next run. And let me know how it goes.

Good running,
Doug

*Give this video a couple of minutes and tell me the organ accompaniment isn't awesome. Warning, his shoes, or slippers, or whatever they are, might creep you out just the slightest bit.

Images from here, here, here, here, and here.

Dear Mom

2011-07-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Mom,

Today, it's been 5 years. 5 years since the phone call. The phone call in which the voice of a woman, essentially a stranger, told me, matter-of-factly, that you were dead in your bedroom, and that I needed to come there.

I had just ordered a pizza. Bazbeaux special. Never got to eat it.

I don't remember much else about that evening. David was there, thankfully. He did the dirty work.

At some point I shifted into "get shit done" mode. Signed stuff, called people, tried to act normal, asked what was next. That much I remember. But the rest of the night, rest of the week really, is a fog.

I know that I hosed your obit. You were born in New Jersey, not Sandpoint Idaho. You lived in Sandpoint. You loved Sandpoint. But you were born in New Jersey. I should have remembered that.

I spent most of one night outlining a eulogy. An eulogy? Either way... I know you weren't there for it, well you were, but, you know, you were dead and all, but I gotta say, I killed. They laughed, they cried, I had them eating out of my hand. You would've been proud.

Best line was when Debbie walked in. I said, off the cuff, "My mother would be neither pleased, nor surprised, that my sister is late to her funeral." Huge laugh.

Since then, frankly, it's been a mess. You left me with a large, steamy, smelly pile of shit, Mom. What the hell were you thinking?

I know, you weren't thinking. You didn't think you'd die the day after your 64th birthday. By the way, I'm so glad I remembered to call you on your birthday. I called early. You were sober. It was nice.

I know you didn't mean to leave me that pile of shit. But the reality is, you did. And frankly, I haven't quite gotten over it.

I've accepted the fact that my early years were, let's say, unconventional. I made it through.

But I haven't been able to reconcile that you weren't really up to parenting my little brother. And I'm not able to conceive how you could drink your way through his death. When he needed you most, you were drunk. That is, at least for now, unforgivable.

I miss you. I miss him more.

I know that after five years, I should be able to forgive you. But I'm just not ready. I'm angry, and hurt, and I feel robbed of the life, and the kid brother, that I should have had. And I blame you. Not fair, but true.

And as you know, your penance is imprisonment. Your remains will sit atop my fridge until I think you've learned your lesson.

Until then, here's a late birthday present. You will be forever 30 years old thanks to YouTube, and an old VHS tape I found amongst your mountains of crap. Here is Any Gal Can, the infamous Changing a Tire episode, featuring our old Ford Pinto.

Love,
Doug

Soft is Better Than Hard

2011-07-19T15:41:00.000-07:00

I love the New York Times. Let me just put that out there. But today, we're having a bit of a lover's quarrel over this article: For Runners, Soft Ground Can Be Hard on the Body

I encourage you to read the article. Seriously, please read it, then come back... I'll wait.

Did you read it? The whole thing? Really? Yeah, that's what I thought... go back and finish it.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it.

Now, flush it all out of your head.

I mean it. It's pure rubbish.

The premise is that you might as well run on street and sidewalks, as opposed to trails or other "soft ground" because you are just as likely to get injured. Supposedly the body will somehow magically adapt to harder surfaces, negating the presumably higher impact forces of pavement. Further, it's supposed that soft ground is uneven, making if more likely you will turn your ankle.

Poppy-f'in-cock.

Ok, the first example, the guy recovering from knee surgery, yes he should've probably stayed off of the trails. But hell, he shouldn't have been running either. You just inured your knee! Walk for crying out loud.

Thing is, you can get hurt just as easily on pavement. Trust me, I know. Who here's never tripped on an uneven crack in a sidewalk? Cracks, curbs, gutters, uneven lumps in the road, they can trip you up just as easily as a root.

And as for turning an ankle, I, myself, your humble blogger, turned the bajeebas out of my ankle in 1999 while on down a hill cool-down jog, on the street. I turned it the the point of snapping a bone in my foot.

The presumed smooth, even, danger free reputation of streets and sidewalks lull the unsuspecting runner into a false sense of security. It let's your mind wander to things other than running, and that's when those nice even surfaces reach out and grab a toe.

If you're out on a "soft" surface... I hate that term... it's a negative spin term... let's call them "natural" surfaces.

If you're out on a natural surface, you need to stay present. They are indeed uneven and littered with obstacles. If you let your mind wander too far for too long, if you take your attention away from the task at hand, yes, you will probably misstep. But that's the beauty of a natural surface run. It's both meditation and cardio in one.

But that's not all, running on natural, uneven surfaces, making lots of turns, being in a state of constant change and adaptation, works lots of muscles, and makes you a stronger runner. And a stronger runner is a less injured runner.

Robotic repetition of the exact same motion, using the exact same muscles, will leave you vulnerable to anything outside of that narrow, consistent circumstance.

Besides, if you do fall, and you will, it's much better to fall on "soft" ground than pavement. This is coming from someone who's fallen on lots of surfaces, lots of times.

At the end of the article, Gina Kolata does include the idea that people should run where they want. And that I completely agree with. Better to run on pavement than not at all. And in fact, I think a mix of pavement and natural surfaces is best. But the article comes off to me like someone trying to use specific personal examples and opinions that aren't backed up by any science to support their personal preference for running on roads.

I hope people aren't dissuaded from trying out some trails because of an article based on such strong statements like...

“It is models, so God knows whether it is true...”

Trails are fantastic for running. They'll make you feel alive. You'll get dirty. You'll probably go slower. But after the run, you'll have a connection with the natural world that you can't get on any road.

Good running,
Doug

Starvation Rehab

2011-07-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

I remember reading somewhere that people who have been in a state of starvation need to be careful transitioning back to normal eating.

Apparently, if you haven't eaten in quite some time, you don't want to try to make it all up in one sitting. And an entire pork roast shouldn't be your first meal. Or second.

If a recently no longer starving person were to gorge themselves on a huge meal, they'd overwhelm their system. Their organs, having been idle for some time, don't just flip on with a switch. They need to be coaxed back into duty, slowly.

I would guess that as these folks allow themselves to think of eating again, they dream about buffet tables that stretch to the vanishing point, piled high with every food they've ever loved. In their dreams they can pig out, even if not in the real world.

Same goes for running. If you've been on the sidelines for an extended time, you need to ease back into things.

After way too many weeks of rehab, I've put my feet tentatively back on the road. The first runs have been slow, and cautious, making sure that I really did remember how.

Once I knew I still had it, though most certainly less of it, I wanted more.

At night, just before drifting off to sleep, my mind takes me to beautiful, imaginary trails, and I'm moving over them effortlessly, and swiftly, of course, toward the end, which I hope never comes. I used to have these pseudo-dreams all the time, but not in the last few weeks. Now, with their return, they leave me eager to run fast, even at midnight, though I know that in reality, I can't... not yet.

Runners coming back need to submit to a higher authority - physics. And physiology. And time. I guess that's three higher authorities.

No matter how much you want to run every day, or to rip a hard 10K, you just can't. You need to set your sights low for a while.

Nope, lower.

Lower.

No, not even a crappy 5K... lower.

You need to put yourself into a long, slow, steady rebuilding phase. Your head and heart will want to feed that long unsatisfied appetite for a cranking run, the desire to feel great, and to be fast. But your body can't digest that meal.

The trick is to channel all of that energy/frustration in a positive direction, as opposed to self-destruction in the form of a track workout or hill repeats. Stick to your rebuilding plan. Make sure you're running way less than you want to. When you can't run, do the things that will keep you out of rehab when you are ready to run hard. Stretch, do some yoga, hit some light weights, maybe even hop on a bike or into the pool. Just stay away from treadmills.

Now that you've survived starvation, don't kill yourself with doughnuts, pork chops, and brownies. That's right, not even brownies. Stick to rice and broth until your body is ready.

Then, when you're sure you're up for it, maybe a waffle, with ice cream.

And then a 5K.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here.

Starting vs Starting Over

2011-07-12T11:47:00.001-07:00

I'll save you the suspense... starting over is way harder than starting.

When you first start running, it sucks, no doubt. Making your body do something that it hasn't done before, something that requires strength and endurance that you just don't have, doesn't sit well with your body. It will hate you and take its hate for you out in the form of pain, sweat, chafing, and despair. And sometimes vomit.

You will want to quit, often.

But there's a silver lining around that cloud of agony... you're starting from zero. The instant you start to improve, as soon as your body starts to adapt and get stronger and fitter, you feel the difference and you can enjoy the feeling, and the knowledge that you are better than you were.

Every improvement is a new high.

When you're starting over, you may not be starting at exactly zero. Today, I officially started back after almost half a year of overhauling and rebuilding. I'd say, on a scale of 0 to 10, I'm starting at a 2, maybe 3. But it still sucks. My body still hates me. The real tough part to take is that I know how great it is to be in excellent shape. I still remember when running was easy. When running fast was easy.

Today... wasn't easy. It was supposed to be a group run with work-based running buddies, one of which was also "starting back". Between the two of us we'd be able to keep the pace under control by reining in the young gun who would be going out with us. That was the plan, at least. Until the other guy bailed. I was left to face the humiliation of being the slow guy, alone.

Note: When starting back, try to do it in the spring, or fall, or any other time than a day so impossibly miserable that the National Weather Service "Heat" Advisory is upgrading to a National Weather Service "You Can Bake A Potato In Your Car" Watch, and finally to a National Weather Service "People Are F-in Melting, Man" Warning.

The youngling was pretty cool about running with me, the slow guy. When the stifling heat forced me to walk, the he hung back. He even tried to perk me up. "No worries man, I get it... you're not half the man you used to be." I think in is mind that was a compliment.

I survived. It was miserable. It was more miserable when I though about how far I am from where I was just a little over a year ago when I smoked this same dude during a speed workout.

But here's the choice I have... I can be the guy who used to be a pretty decent runner, before he got hurt, and then put on a few pounds, and then couldn't quite get back. Or, I can be the best runner I can be today, and strive to be the best I can be tomorrow, and just accept that it will be a long road to get "back", whatever that means. I may never be as fast as I used to be. Maybe I'll be faster. Probably not. But if that's my goal, it's going to be quite some time before I feel good about where I am.

For now, I'm going to try to take the view of the first time runner. Every day that I feel better should be its own reward, and enticement to run tomorrow, or whenever it stops hurting blink.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here.

Fountains of Freedom

2011-07-11T16:40:00.001-07:00

I spent a few moments this past Independence Day weekend celebrating freedom.

Specifically, the freedom to defile a fountain. Two actually...

First, a brand spanking new fountain outside the almost grandly opened City Center behemoplex.

This one is so new, I had to break the white "Sanitized for Your Protection" seal to get in. Until proven otherwise, I'm calling it...

First! - July 3rd, 2011

The next day, after celebrating our great nation's 235th, wait is that right? Yeah, 235th birthday as most American's did, by sitting through a parade filled mostly with self-engadizing local politicians, "floats" that were little more than a trailer carrying a local business' employees who had been manipulated into sacrificing their holiday for the honor of throwing candy at children the way I imagine the king's handlers used to through grain to starving peasants along the road to the castle of some homely princess/second cousin, and local bands that aren't nearly as good as our band was* when I had to march in the sweltering heat and then go work a 6 hour shift at Dairy Queen while all of my friends came to the drive-thru on their way to the fireworks to let me know how much fun they were having, we went to find a nice, patriotic, ice-cold caffeine-free diet co- HEY LOOK A BEER TENT!

We stayed here until we ran out of cash, which took awhile, even at $5 a pint.

Then we walked home, on the path to which lay a gargantuan complex of condos, or apartments, or businesses, arranged in a big pile of huge brick buildings with also huge columns, and dormers, lots of dormers, so colonial that Thomas Jefferson himself might have built them for his family, including a building in the back for his other "family", and in the middle of which is a huge-ass reflecting pool. To wit...

For the record, I did not swim, not even a little.

Also for the record, my shorts did not dry out by the time we got home, as I was promised.

For those new to this humid corner of the internet, you can retrace my path of fountain defilement on this most excellent use of modern information technology.

Just to fulfill my "Hey, isn't this a running blog" quota... tomorrow, after wuh-hay too long on the sidelines, I'm going to tip-toe back into the world of the running. Stay tuned to watch how I handle the delicate balance of not doing too much too soon, and staving off clinical lack-of-running insanity. Should be fun.

Oh, and this is the last time I will pester you kind, above-average-looking, and super-generous readers... last time I will pull a PBS pledge drive and ask you to click here to give a dollar or two to the wonderful Back on My Feet program in Indianapolis. Everyone who donates will be highlighted in a flattering blurb on this here blog. The bigger the donation, the more flattering. Thanks in advance to those about to give, and huge thanks and appreciation and love, or at least like-like, to those who have already given.

Good running,
Doug

* My son's band excepted, as they rocked, most especially the bass drum section, and even more especially, the smallest base drum. That dude was awesome!

Gravity Sucks

2011-07-06T09:55:00.001-07:00

I trip more than anyone I know.

Seriously, I hit the ground more often than a toddler, those little people named for the fact that they don't walk well.

Happened again this morning. Out on an easy 4 miler with the Back on My Feet gang, crossed a street, caught a curb.

Thing is, I don't just fall. It takes a good 5 seconds and 30 feet for me to make my way to the ground. Arms flailing, legs flopping out giant clown steps, all in a ridiculous, and frivolous effort to avoid the unavoidable. You can imagine someone watching... "Uh... Uh... Uh... Yes.. Maybe.. Uh... Uh... Nooooh, too bad. Thought he might have had it there for a second."

I suppose the deranged acrobatics might slow me down enough to save a couple square inches of skin, but I'm not sure it's worth the humiliation. I'm already falling down. A grown man, tripping over a curb, with alarming frequency. Do I really want to make it more of a spectacle?

It's not that I'm not looking where I'm going. I don't trip over obvious curbs. Somehow my toe finds the lowest obstacles. The tiny root, the bump in the sidewalk, the ever-so-slightly misaligned wedge of handicap curbing.

Like this, but more... trippy.

Perhaps I droop my toes when I run. Or maybe I'm just wuh-huh-haaay more clumsy that anyone else I know.

I'd like to say that I've accepted it as just the way I am, it's just the way I run, it's how I'm built. But if that were the case, I wouldn't be surprised when it happens. Or pissed. I'm always pissed when I trip. Know why? Cause it hurts! And when you're body's out of warranty, it doesn't just hurt for a few minutes, it hurts for a few days. For the rest of the week I'll get a little jabbing reminders of my inability to master bipedal locomotion every time I stand up, or bend over, or breath.

I am gravity's bitch.

Good running,
Doug

PS - For those who have donated to Back on My Feet Indianapolis, a huge "Thank You", as well as a post to honor you all, coming soon. For those who haven't donated yet, or don't know what I'm talking about, please click here to learn more and please consider giving a dollar or two for an insanely worthy cause.

Images from here, and here.

Pony up!

2011-06-24T19:53:00.000-07:00

Dear above-average-looking with way-above-average-intelligence readers of DougRun365,

We've had a lot of fun, haven't we. Remember that one post? That really funny one? Man, that was great...

Hey, I'd like to discuss something with you... Have you ever heard of Amway?

Kidding.

I wouldn't do that to you. I like you folks.

I am, though, going to ask you to pull your wallet. Pull it out of your back pocket, or purse, or your back pack, or your desk drawer. Or maybe your a big shot with a money clip. Doesn't matter, just keep reading, please.

For those of you who have been paying attention the last few weeks, you already know that I've been channeled my considerable power and influence in the running community in the direction of an amazing organization called Back on My Feet.

If you weren't aware of this, where have you been? What, if I don't write every day you stop reading? Click that link back there and get caught up, we'll wait... Done? Ok.

I haven't asked for much more than your adoration, and there's been the occasional cry for affirmation in the form of a comment posting, but now I'm asking for hard cash for a good cause. Actually, they also take debit cards, credit cards, and AMEX.

My local chapter of Back on My Feet is running a little fundraiser and I'm determined to do my part by asking you do do your part. But, I'm also going to step up.

Here's the deal... Go to this page (totally secure, I promise) and enter your donation amount. It goes straight to Back on My Feet Indianapolis. Any amount helps, but let's not be shy... or cheap. Give what you can.

Here's what I'll do... every single donation will get a huge thank you call out on this here blog. That's right... your name will be on the internet!* Don't worry, I won't put how much you donated. I will, however, express my sincere gratitude for supporting an insanely worthy cause that means a lot to me. And, if I know you, I'll include a flattering anecdote. If I don't know you, feel free to send me a flattering anecdote.

But wait, there's more...

The largest donation will earn the donor... drum roll, please... Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ok-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ok, cut the-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ENOUGH!

Drummers... yeesh!

The largest donation will earn the donor a run with this humble blogger, complete with a special fountain-defiling experience, souvenir photo, and a DougRun365 post just for/about them. I KNOW!

I fully expect a bidding war.

Please, pull out your card, click the link, fill out the form, and bask in the feelings of generosity and good deeding.

Seriously, do it now, before you forget.

I thank you, as will those who, through your donation, get back on their feet.

Good running,
Doug

*Unless you ask me not to.

Image from here.

Fountains - Catching Up

2011-06-21T15:13:00.000-07:00

My penchant for fountains is well documented.

This year, though, I've been a little lax in keeping you, the above-average-looking readers of DougRuns365, up to date on my path of desecration. Also, the map, in my opinion the best use of the internet ever, was low on photographic evidence of my conquests.

In February, I was in Orlando on business. I hadn't been running much, trying to heal up from my year of running (and writing) every day, but ran a nice loop around the faux lake in the resort. There were several fountains to defile, but I chose just the one closest to the room.

2/8/2011 - Disney Coronado Springs Resort

There was a bit of a lull in the spree until late April when the GF and I headed to French Lick*. We took a detour to check out a winery in Columbus, IN. The wine was about as good as you'd expect from a winery in Columbus, IN. On the way back to the highway, we drove by the Bartholomew Consolidated School Administration Building... there were screeching brakes...

4/23/2011 - Bartholomew Consolidated School Administration Building

In May, I was in Atlanta. For a city in the south, there weren't many fountains. This one, though, was more than worthy...

5/17/2011 - Centennial Olympic Park

There was an odd fountain at my Atlanta hotel. I'm not sure what they were going for, but to me it said "Alien ship crashed through the roof and ruined this fountain." It was undercover and oddly lit, which is my excuse for the crappy picture...

5/17/2011 - Fountain outside Marriott Marquis main entrance

One of my epic fails in fountain defiling was on my birthday last year when I saved the fountain for when I was ready to leave and, when I returned to it, found it turned off. This year, also on my birthday, that wrong was righted...

5/20/2011 - Indianapolis Motor Speedway

That brings us to this weekend. Milwaukee Wisconsin has no fountains. None. At least not downtown. Believe me, I looked.

In town for the IndyCar race with my youngest, we zipped all over the place, all the while I had an eye out for a pool of water with some squirting up, and came up empty. Before the long trip home, we decided to check out the (foggy) lakeshore. Having seen enough fog, we set the GPS for "home". As if that bossy lady inside that tiny box knew, she took us up a steep hill to Old North Point Water Tower (which looks to the untrained eye a lot like Chicago's water tower) and like an oasis to a lost desert traveler, a real beauty appeared...

6/20/2011 - North Point Park, adjacent to the Old North Point Water Tower.

About 0.3 seconds after taking this picture, my youngest asked "Can I get in?" making this just about the best way to end a fantastic Father's Day weekend.

Good running,
Doug

*Just to be clear, I am referring here to the town in Indiana.

The Break Up

2011-06-14T09:22:00.000-07:00

In January, I ended a long term relationship.

I haven't brought it up until now. It's kinda hard to talk about.

I was in this relationship for over 15 years, but then, the "other half" of the relationship.. well, changed.

It was really great for a long time. We kinda grew up together. But over the last few years we started to go in different directions, and then... there was an incident.

It involved my best running buddy Marty. I can't go into the details, but it was ugly. It's easy to forget that sometimes people aren't really who you think they are.

My friend Scott has a band. The band's name is Yoko Moment. It's named for that moment when you are faced with a choice, a choice of loyalty - your relationship, or your friends. John chose Yoko over his mates from Liverpool. I chose to stick by my friend, Marty. It wasn't a difficult decision.

So, it's been almost 6 months, I've had time to adjust, and I'm going public - I have broken up with The Runners Forum.*

A runner's running store is like your team, it's who you identify with.** It's the hub of your running community. You know the folks who work there, you get to know the other runners who are on the "team", you wear their logo'ed shirts, and if you're really into them, you might even work there part time, just to hang out (and get a discount on shoes). Changing stores is not something that happens often, or is taken lightly. But when things just aren't right, when you don't feel comfortable there anymore, it's time to move on, and you know it.

So, I'm back on the market all you running stores out there... size 10.5, neutral, T-shirt size L. I like high-cut shorts, no-show socks, and walks on the beach.

Good running,
Doug

*Marty doesn't go there anymore, either.

**If you buy all of your running gear online, you're missing out, but that's cool, your choice. But don't you dare go into a running store, even The Runners Forum, and try on shoes, milking them for their advice, and then order the same shoes from the web to save a few dollars. That's pure douche-baggery.

Image from here.

Participating from the Bench

2011-06-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

Not being able to run sucks. No way to sugar coat it.

Except for my once-a-week, against-the-advice-of-my-trainer runs with Back on My Feet, I'm on the sidelines.

I've spent the last few weeks moping around, pouting, complaining. I haven't feel like writing. I don't really want to talk to anybody. I rarely shave. I'm not very good company. I'm cranky and pissy and short on the ol' temper.

This weekend, though, I may have found a cure.

Friday night I watched my youngest kick some serious butt at his first track meet of the season. Last year, his first season, he struggled. He just wanted so bad to be faster. I explained to him that kids mature and get stronger and get faster at different rates. And in this race, the little dude was flyin'! It was nice to be proven right. It felt better to see the look in his eyes when he held off the kid in the next lane to get his first blue ribbon.

Really, just walking around the infield, watching the kids out there running, just for the fun of it, was uplifting. They know that running is fun.

Gaggle of young sprinters waiting patiently for their crack at the 100m dash.

After the meet, I was stoked. And starving. Before I knew it, I'd eaten an entire small pizza (Bazbeaux: sausage and mushroom). It was delicious, but I DO NOT recommend eating the whole thing, especially if you are not running regularly. But with a stuffed tummy, I was sleepy and ready for bed.

Good thing, because early Saturday morning, I wedged myself out of bed, stumbled to my car, and wound through the streets of Carmel to find a more-or-less random spot on a more-or-less random street.

I've been involved in distance running for many years. I've run countless races. I've perfected my hydrating technique while snagging hundreds, if not thousands of cups of water from anonymous volunteers. But before Saturday, I'd never worked a water stop. I'd never been on the other side of that frantic, splashy exchange.

I had a blast! Our crew was small but lively. Ten minutes into setup and we were already making each other laugh. We were having so much fun, that folks from the neighborhood came out and joined us. Spontaneous volunteerism! The highlight was the trio of kids who setup a competing lemonade stand across the street. I'm pretty sure they out sold us, and I know they out yelled us.

The competition stealing another customer.

Waterstop #11 was voted the best stop on the course. This poll was unscientific in that it didn't actually exist, but I can't imagine another stop as entertaining as ours. And the runners were amazing. Halfway through their race on a hot, muggy day, well over half summoned the breath to say "Thank you." as they plucked a cup from our hands. Such a polite breed we are.

If was exciting to see the elites zip by, but it was inspiring to see those for whom a half marathon is a real challenge. They were pressing forward, one step at a time, with determination and spunk, and usually a smile.

Water Stop #11 during a rare lull.

After all the fun of cup duty, I was ready to get home and release the hound.* Unfortunately, because there was this marathon thing going on, I couldn't get home, not in my car, anyway. Believe me, I tried.

One of the thousands of advantages of being a runner is that you get to know the streets around you. Not just the main streets, all of the streets. I used that knowledge to little avail. I managed to get within half a mile of home. I was closer to the finish line, so I went there.

It was a good choice.

There is no better place to get motivated to train for a marathon than the finish line of another marathon. It is a rejuvenating, energizing, moving place to be. I stood there for 90 minutes in the hot sun watching complete strangers finish their race. Ok, I didn't actually know these people, but they weren't strangers. They were runners, marathoners. People like me. And together, we were sharing their achievement, though aside from adding my claps to the applause of a few dozen others', my sharing was of the vicarious sort.

Need a lift? Hang around a marathon finish line.

When the finish dried up, I finally made it home. I really, really wanted to go for a run. Even though I couldn't, I felt a little bit better about it. I'd spent most of the last 24 hours soaking up to my neck in my sport, experiencing it from different perspectives, letting it remind me why I miss it so much. And now, I love it even more.

Good running,

Doug

* That is not a euphemism. I literally mean letting the dog out.

Brew Mile

2011-06-09T17:54:00.000-07:00

Run a mile. Drink a beer. Raise some money for a good cause.

Seems like a pretty decent idea, right?

Dude, you have no idea...

I showed up early to help set up. As we put together the finish line, Marty and I guessed that 50, maybe, MAYBE 100 people would turn out for the first Brew Mile. There wasn't a ton of marketing, just an email, some tweets, a little Facebook action. It was pizza oven hot, too. And, it was Wednesday.

By 5:30, 30 minutes before registration officially opened, we had a small table setup to hand out numbers and collect the $5 (proceeds went to Back on My Feet). At 5:31 we had our first participants signed in.

And they kept coming.

By 6:00pm we had a steady stream. By 6:30, the posted start time of the race, the line snaked through the parking lot. We were moving them through as fast as we could, and they just kept coming. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and exciting. Singles, couples, whole families. We ran out of numbers, so I scribbled numbers on Post-It sized slips of paper. And despite the heat, and the up to 15 minute wait, no one complained, everyone was smiling, everyone was having fun.

Finally, at 7:00pm, we registered the last runner. The line was empty. Off to the start we all meandered. The start signal wasn't a cannon, or a gun, or even a countdown through a blow horn. It was just one guy shouting, "Ok... GO!"

Off they went, with giggles and smiles, down the Monon Trail.

I didn't run myself. I'd already violated my "You really shouldn't run for awhile" orders earlier in the day, so I helped at the finish. And I loved it. Every finisher was smiling and/or laughing, including Joann, the 78 year-old woman with her white cotton gloves (?!?) who finished far from last.

It was casual. It was social. It was low key. It was a big fat reminder that running is fun. Even the results include the runner's favorite beer.

After the mile, the crowd lingered. And there was more than the one free beer's worth of lingering. I met a dozen new runner friends before I realized it was 9:30. 9:30! That's past my curfew on school nights. Not really, but I had to scoot home to release the hound. Still, it was tough to leave. These were my people...

I can't wait until the next Brew Mile.

Good running,
Doug

Back on My Feet

2011-06-01T19:52:00.000-07:00

Today was National Running Day.

What is the right way to celebrate a made up national day? For me, of course, it's to hit the road for a run.

But today wasn't just any run. Today was Wednesday. And on Wednesdays I hoist my body out of bed at 4:30am, stretch half-heartedly between yawns, and drive 30 minutes to downtown Indianapolis. There, I run with my team.

My team is made up of strangers, but only because I'm new. They are from all walks of life. They are of many shapes, and sizes, and stories. And about half of them are homeless.

The other half are team members who show up to run with the homeless half. We come from all over the city. We run together, we talk and laugh together, we stretch together, and then half of us go home. The other half go back to their group house. They've been placed there by case workers and social workers, given a chance to rebuild themselves, to get control of their lives, and to start over again. And they've decided to run as part of their program.

The team is organized by a group called, fittingly, Back on My Feet. BoMF uses running as the basis of a program to build a sense of community, self-esteem, self-sufficiency, and strength for the homeless population. They are funded by donations and by corporate sponsors. There are chapters in 7 US cities.

Last year I'd read about the organization and chapters in other US cities and was blown away. And to tell the truth, I felt a little envious of the runners in those other cities.

Earlier this year, DougRun365 reader, knower of all things going down in Indy, and virtual friend, Amy Crook pointed me to a news article about a BoMF chapter opening in Indianapolis. As I read the article, my heart started to race... I read faster and faster...

I've never been one to feel a "calling" to something, but seriously people, an organization that uses running to rebuild peoples lives... this is right in my wheel house. This is my passion and my mission come to life. How can I not be here. Immediately, I knew I had to get involved.

And by immediately, I mean it took 2 months.

The deal is, before you can join the team, you need to go through an orientation meeting. These meetings were systematically scheduled so as to make it impossible for me to attend. At least, that is, until last month.

The orientation is all about the organization, how it started, how it's funded, what the runs are like, stuff like that. The BoMF folks didn't know it at the time, but it was just a formality. Twelve seconds into it, I knew I was in.

I've been on two team runs. We meet butt-early. I run slow. We hug, a lot. And we sweat. And then we hug some more. It's not especially sanitary, but it is heartfelt.

Honestly, the experience is beyond words. It's something you have to see, to be in, to appreciate. The love and respect and support shared in that circle of runners is real, and I am honored to be a part of it.

If you would like to be a part of it, too, check out this link to learn more and this link to sign up for an orientation meeting to learn even more. Or, if you can't join us for the runs, consider throwing a few dollars their way.

Good running,
Doug

Just-for-Fun Meet

2011-05-25T17:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my son's Middle School track team had their awards program.

After the blissfully short program, there was a very informal, "just for fun" meet.

There were no stop watches, no starting guns, just kids jumping into events they've never run before, laughing. Three girls did cartwheels for most of their 100 meter dash. A school record-holding sprinter ran a blistering first 300 meters, and then tagged in the team's best shot putter to finish out the 400. Not many shot-putters get to be the first to cross the finish line for a 400.

It was a gorgeous, sunny day, a great time.

Let me pause for a moment, here...

When a plane crashes, it's rarely due to a single thing going wrong. It's almost always a combination of factors, small things that alone would have been no big deal. But together they spell disaster.

Factor 1:
A few days ago, I had a birthday. I'm now 46, though I like to refer to it as 30-16. 30-16 feels farther from 50 than 46 does. Turning 46 is like being in the front car on a roller coaster just as it crests the hill. The other cars are still on the other side, still "clak-clak-clak"-ing up the hill, their weight holding you back. Your car is hanging, just for a moment, pointing down to your impending doom, just waiting for those behind you to push you toward it.

Factor 2:
I have barely run since January. As part of my "Year of feeling awesome" plan, I've been overhauling my core after a couple decades of abuse, kinda like rehabbing a worn out kitchen, or replacing the engine in your car just before it seizes up. To rebuild, you must first tear down, and I'm in the tear down phase. My core is about as stable as overdone spaghetti.

Factor 3:
That "just for fun" middle school track meet? Yeah, well coaches and parents were encouraged to participate.

You can probably guess where this is going.

I was a sprinter and hurdler in college. I'll save you the trouble of doing the math... that was 24 years ago. That's right, if I'd had a child right after I'd ended my hurdling career, that child would itself be out of college.

Luckily, the hurdles were the first event. It's easy to say no to the first piece of cake. "Oh no, I can't possibly, but it looks delicious."

Next up was the 100 meters, which my son jumped into. "No, really, I just can't. But thank you." The coach ran the last heat of the 100. He looked alright. He's a little younger than me, but not that much younger.

"Boy, ya know, that cake does look yummy."

After the mile was the 4x100 relay. "Maybe just a small piece..."

I talked the coach, who had just finished the mile, and a couple dad's into fielding a team. My son was also on a team, a team of young pups, with hopes, and dreams, and working hamstrings. I hadn't warmed up. I hadn't stretched. See factors 1 & 2 above.

Lined up one lane outside of me was one of the coaches for the girl's team. She could easily have been a classmate of the fictional 24 year-old born after my last college race. When the gun went off, well, actually someone just said "Go!", I blasted off the line the way ketchup blasts out of the bottle... not really blasty at all. I tried to blast. I thought I was going to blast. Didn't happen. It was like slow motion. It would seem that a stable core is important if you want to blast.

Eventually, though, I got moving, and I'm proud to say I stayed with the 20-something girls' coach, made a pretty slick baton exchange, and didn't die.

"That tiny piece of cake was very tasty. Thank you."

High-fives exchanged and smiles all around, though it took longer than I'd expected to feel recovered, and by "recovered" I mean not on the verge of a stroke-heart-attack-pulmonary-rupture-projectile-vomit-and-pass-out episode.

Once I did recover, I felt pretty good about it. I joked with my boys. They called me old and slow. But I'd held my own.

Then they announced the 200.

My son, the recently track awarded one, was running the 200, as was the boys' coach.

"Get out of my way! I'm taking the whole cake. Don't you even try to stop me! Screw the fork, I'm eating it by the hand full! Nom! Nom! Nom!"

I lined up in lane 7, with the coach in lane 8, so I could keep an eye on him. "GO!" Again, my legs took their sweet time getting up to speed, "speed" being a relative term. But I ran the turn well and hadn't lost too much ground to the coach.

In fact, I ran a pretty good race, if the race had been the 140 meter dash.

It wasn't.

With 60 meters to go, I decided to make my move. Problem was I didn't have a move. My legs had checked out. In fact, most of my body gave up.

"Too. Much. Cake. Why did I do that?"

You'd think I'd have been humiliated, a once moderately successful Big 10 sprinter pooping out two-thirds of the way through a 200. But at that moment, I didn't have time for embarrassment. I was 100% focused on reaching the finish line before I died. It was clear that I was going to die, probably on the track. I just wanted to make sure I went out having finished the race.

I crossed the finish line, a good 10 meters behind the coach, and almost everyone else. I did manage to beat my son, but only because he'd just finished a hard 400 right before this race started.

Some slightly lower high fives, fewer smiles, I found my son and we swapped some smack talk. I walked across the field to retrieve my shades and camera, walked back to say bye to the boys, got to my car. This all took 10, maybe 15 minutes. Yet when I got to my car, my heart was still pounding so hard I could hardly turn on my phone, let alone dial 911. It was a good 30 minutes before I felt like I'd survive my foolish attempt to reconnect with my youth.

We all want to feel young. We all want to play with our kids. We all want to pretend that a pair of running shoes is actually a time machine. Sometimes all of that want overcomes reason.

Had I not just crested that hill toward 50, or not been keeping myself from running for so many weeks, or not brought running shoes to the track, that disastrous 200 would never have happened. I'm not sure yet if that would be a good thing, or not. I'll let you know in a few days when, hopefully, I have feeling in my legs again.

Good running,
Doug

No takers

2011-05-05T09:19:00.000-07:00

Well ... that was disappointing.

I bet this is what it feels like trying to unload Brickyard 400 tickets.

Is the Mini-entry market really that flooded?

I'm going to assume that it's not because the deal required a token donation to just about the most wholesome charitable organization on the planet. This has got to be more attractive than buying one on Craig's List, right?

I'll put it down to low traffic in this dark corner of the interweb, at least in the I-need-a-mini-number-3-days before-the-race demographic.*

Good running,
Doug

*Turns out it's pretty happening for the I-need-an-image-of-Ren-&-Stimpy crowd.

Mini Entry Up for Grabs

2011-05-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

Hi gang.

I have, in my slightly smaller than average hands, one entry for this Saturday's 2011 One America 500 Festival Mini Marathon in downtown Indianapolis, IN.

This card, and all of the benefits it entitles, could be yours!

Problem is, I can't use it. Well, I could use it, as a coaster, or to fan myself, or to marshal crumbs off of a table, or to give one of my enemies one hellacious paper cut. I can't, though, use it for its intended purpose: running the half-marathon this Saturday morning.

If you are itching to run the Mini, you can have my entry.

Seriously, take it.

Take it!

Put your hand out and take GET BACK HERE!

What?

Of course there's a catch. You think I'm rolling naked in a pile of Mini entries? I've got one. This one. The one I paid $60 for and can't use thanks to some unreasonably uncooperative muscles.

Here's the catch: You can have the entry for the price of a donation to the American Red Cross. You decide how much, but the largest donation pledge in the comment section by 11:59 Wednesday, and verified with an emailed copy of a receipt of an e-donation by noon on Thursday, gets the entry.

Tie breaker: Tell us why you want to run the mini and/or why I should give you my entry. Points for being funny, or moving, but mostly for being funny. Judgement of the blogger is final.

Click the comment link and crack open your wallet.

Good running,
Doug

Grete Waitz

2011-04-27T19:13:00.000-07:00

It wasn't that long ago that women were not allowed to enter marathons.

The keenest medical minds of the time were virtually certain that should a woman even try to run that far, her uterus would fall out.

I am not making this up.

In 1967, Katherine Switzer entered the Boston Marathon as K.V. Switzer. Once the race had started, race officials, including the race director, tired to forcibly remove her from the race. They were intercepted and unceremoniously shoved away from Katherine by her teammates.

This was the world that the great Grete Waitz competed in. Well, as much as she was allowed to complete.

Before the 1980's, there were no distance races for women in the Olympics.

In the 1976 Olympics, as the world record holder in the 3000m, the longest event she could enter was the 1500m, because the Olympic committee deemed longer distances unsuitable for women. That, and they didn't want to have all of those uteruses littering the track. Nothing screws up a tight Olympic Track and Field schedule like a long uterus cleanup delay.

Luckily, the New York City Marathon (known in this corner of the internet as The Best Damn Road Race in the World) let women race. In 1978, Grete was invited by none other than NYCM founder and race director Fred Lebow to enter the race. But not as an elite competitor, as a "rabbit". That means that she was given the job of setting a specific pace for the lead women through a given distance, after which, her job done and presumably her limit reached, she would let them go.

She was a sacrificial lamb.

Thing is, this lamb snatched the knife and went all ninja on the would-be slaughterers.

In that marathon, her FIRST marathon, Grete Waitz won the biggest, baddest of them all.

Oh, and she set a world record.

Ka-F'in-boom!

Can you imagine? That's like the guy who pitches batting practice stepping in and throwing a no-hitter to win the World Series. Or a guy from the cheap seats putting his beer down, borrowing a helmet, and winning the Superbowl.

Or even better, it's like the dude driving the pace car for the Indianapolis 500 deciding not to pull into the pits, instead taking the green flag, jamming the pedal through the floor, smoking the field of 33 for 200 laps, and drinking milk in victory lane.

Ok, not quite that, but still... unreal.

After the race, she was hurting so bad, she swore she'd never race another marathon. But we all say that.

And like us, Grete came back for more.

But unlike us, when she came back, the next year, she won the New York City Marathon again.

And again. And again. And again.

And again.

And again. And again.

And again.

9 times. In 11 years.

No one else, male, female, or hermaphrodite, comes even close to 9 wins at NYCM.*

She took the gender barrier and shoved it right up the tailpipe of whoever it is that defines gender barriers.

And she did it with unflinching class. As a runner, she was as tough as a pit bull on angel dust, but she also had the heart of a lab puppy.

Grete died on Tuesday April 19th. She was 57.

She was a runner. One of us. She had the same love and passion for lacing up and going out, and for other runners, that we have.

I know because I was lucky enough to meet her.

Grete and me.

November 5th, 1999 at the NYCM expo, I was just wandering around, slack-jawwed, mostly in awe of the fact that I was in the NYCM expo. Eventually I went past the Adidas booth, and there she was... just standing there.

There were just under 13 metric-zillion marathoners walking around just like I was, but they apparently didn't recognize her.

My mouth went dry, and my knees got a little quaky, but I thought "When the hell am I ever going to see Grete again?" Turned out, not surprisingly, to be never, so it's a good thing I walked over.

She was totally engaging and charming and everything that you'd hope she would be if she were one of your heroes. She talked to me not international super-star marathoning goddess to midwestern hick flatlander who would be eaten alive by the bridges in a couple days, but runner to runner. She asked how my training had gone. She asked how I felt. She asked if I needed any hints about the course because, you know, she'd run it a few times and knew it pretty well.

That's why I love our running community so much. From the top of the tip of the elites to the back-of-the-pack, we are all runners.

When two runners meet, barriers disappear, guards are dropped, and real connections are made, forged from experiences shared, separately, but understood and respected by both.

When I heard the news of Grete's passing, my mind froze for just a second, the way it does when you hear something that you just don't want to believe is true.

I talked to her for 5 minutes, over 11 years ago, yet I still felt as though I'd lost a friend.

Such is the bond of one runner to another.

Good running,
Doug

*Bill Rodgers, another hero of mine who I've not only met, but run with, twice**, is closest with 4 (consecutive) NYCM wins. (Winners list is here.)

**Remind me to tell you those stories sometime.

Nice articles about Grete are here and here.
A nice article about the emergence of women's Olympic marathon is here.
Picture from here and me.

My neighborhood

2011-04-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy riding my motorcycle to work. When the weather cooperates. Which isn't often, lately.

As comfortable as my boots are, they aren't nearly as comfortable as running shoes, so I keep a pair on a shelf in my office, as opposed to schlepping them back and forth.

My new office, despite all of it's glorious windows and bountiful sunshine, can be a bit chilly in the morning. Luckily I have a spare fleece jacket handy.

This morning, as I changed from my jacket to my fleece, and from my riding boots to my sneakers, it occurred to me that no leather jacket or Italian motorcycle can change my true nature ... I am Mr. Rogers.

Good running,

Doug

The cure for a bad run

2011-04-05T14:32:00.000-07:00

There's only one cure for a bad run.

Tequila.

Kidding.*

The cure is a good run. And today I had a good run.

I didn't do anything different. I wasn't particularly fast. It just went better. It felt like it's supposed to feel.

The run turned my whole day around. I didn't feel like stabbing anyone, for the entire afternoon!

I highly recommend finding something that makes you not want to stab people, and doing that.

And fine tequila... I recommend that too.

Oh, and limes and salt, don't do that. Just drink better tequila. And sip it, don't shoot it. You aren't in college anymore.

Unless you are, in which case still don't do it. You will look less douche-like, and you might not throw up, if you sip good tequila, instead of pounding the cheap stuff.

Good running,

Doug

*Not really. Tequila makes everything better, right up to the point that it makes everything much, much worse.

Image from here, which happens to be an informational site on tequila. I give it a B-.

Long Slow Run Downhill

2011-04-03T18:46:00.000-07:00

It's #3 thing that runners fear most.

Top of the list is injury. No one wants to be injured. "Injured" is derived from a German word meaning "not running".* We don't like not running.

Second worst is a botched race. All the training, all the planning, all the money, flushed down the metaphorical toilet. Bad weather, poor sleep, illness, out too fast, doesn't matter. They all mean a missed opportunity, "wasted" training, and probably a missed goal.

Today, I got to experience #3: Long run epic failure.

In the regimen of the modern distance runner, the long runs are the foundation on which all of the training is built. The primary colors, the musical scales, A, C, G, and T. Without the long runs, the rest of the training is pointless, nonsensical, mishmash.

We build our training around these weekly treks. We plug in the long runs, adding a couple miles each week, and then sprinkle the other training in where it makes sense.

They can be boring. Tedious, even. But they are necessary, and usually, not that big of a deal.

In the old days, I used to look forward to the long runs. They were a chance to clear my head. And since they are run at a slower pace, I could just set the auto-pilot on "cruise" and just knock out the miles.

But today isn't one of the good old days. My long run was a drawn out, slow moving torture.

Not sure why, but this morning, I just didn't have it. And by "it", I mean anything.

We've all felt like crap, especially early in the morning, but we know that once we get moving, get a little warmth in the muscles, we'll feel better.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, the crappy feeling lingers. It hangs off of your shoulders, dragging the ground, like an anchor.

Imagine having to sit through a horrible movie, starring you, while someone with large triceps goes off on your feet with a hammer.

I had no pop in my legs. Small hills slowed me to a crawl. Four times I just stopped, bewildered, and pissed beyond words to see that I'd only gone 1.6 miles since the last time I'd stopped, bewildered. The dog looked up at me, if I'm not mistaken, with a hint of disgust.

I was running like an old man. Older man.

Thing is, these runs are crucial. They build up the endurance and strength that we draw from during our race. They also build us up mentally. Knocking out the long runs give us the confidence that we will make it through the race with grace and power and speed.

That's why blowing up during a long run is so demoralizing.

We can rationalize why it happened. We can adjust our plan. But you can't make it up. You have to face the fact that one of the blocks of your foundation is cracked.

I cut the run short. I stretched. Then, I sulked most of the day.

Then, I showered.

Then, I turned the proverbial page, put that miserable "run" behind me, and rejiggered my training schedule to try to salvage my race.

Getting back in racing shape isn't easy. We have bad days. We have awesome days.

I think the scale tips decisively toward awesome.

Good running,

Doug

* This is not true.

Image from here.

My Run, the movie

2011-03-29T18:08:00.000-07:00

Do yourself a favor.

Get a babysitter. Skip your zoomba class, whatever the hell that is, and go see My Run on Thursday.

One day only. Thursday. Nationwide.

Do it.

I mean it.

(Trailer)

(North-side IndyTheaters) (Other Theaters)

Good running,
Doug

Best 5K, ever.

2011-03-26T16:29:00.000-07:00

It was windy, and cold. 24F cold.

My time... 48 minutes. Slowest 5K I've ever run.

And I'm using the word "run" here very liberally.

So what was so good about this particular 5K?

I ran it with my 10 year old. Our first race together. His first race ever.

It didn't quite go as planned. He and his friend started toward the front. Waaaay toward the front. Like on the line.

Notice that no one is in front of these boys at the starting line.

This was his friend's idea.

His other idea was to blast off like a scalded cat at the gun.

My boy didn't like this idea, because he's not crazy.

So within a few yards, my boy found himself running alone, as hundreds of people, zoomed by him.

Being an experienced runner, and an even more experienced dad, I started behind the boys. And when I saw mine, on his own, looking up at every adult who passed him, I knew he was looking for me. He knew that I would be there for him. He knew I was the one running buddy who wouldn't ever drop him.

The boy was not the least bit happy. Can't blame him. A good running buddy doesn't leave you. At least not without you saying it's cool.

And sure, the boy took his anger out on me, is dorky dad, at first.

He did not want to run, even a little bit. "I'm a sprinter, not a distance runner!"

He wanted to walk. And just get it over with. Finish and go home.

Once he realized I was good with that plan, which was at about the half way mark, he decided it was ok to speak to me.

By the end, we were talking. And laughing. And running.

And then the little rat squirted out ahead of me in the last 30 yards. That's ok, I'm pretty sure I was finishing out of the money anyway.

My placing and my finish time don't matter one bit. It was who I finished with that made it the best 5K, ever.

Good running,
Doug

When good has to be good enough

2011-03-24T14:52:00.000-07:00

It's so easy for our vision of ourselves to get in our way.

On my run this afternoon, I actually felt... good.

I haven't really felt good running for a while. It's bad that it feels weird to feel good. It's welcome all the same.

A couple days ago my Stretching Professional (aka Mistress of Pretzel-Twisting Pain) decided that my progress wasn't actually progressing, so she broke out a can of Whoop-Ass brand torture. Releasing fascia is not for the weak, or anyone who shrieks like a frightened little girl when elbows are used to loosen up the lumpy bits. She inflicted it on me anyway.

But, two days later, here I am, cautiously optimistic.

And cautiously cautious. I've been fooled before. I've felt "good", which was really just a slight upgrade from "near death", and thought that was a green light to kick in the afterburners, which of course put me back a couple steps, back to "nearer to death".

Today, things felt good. No twinges. No hitches. Just smooth goin'.

I was steady. Not slow, but not fast either.

Thing is, there's nothing like feeing good to make you want to go fast, especially when you haven't gone fast in a long time.

And man, do I want to go fast. I don't like dragging behind a group whose collective asses, just a few months ago, I could dust.

I want to be fast, again. Not for the ego boost of beating my buddies. Just to know that I my body is strong and durable and fast. Right now it's none of those.

But, as Jayne said "If wishes were horses, we'd all be eating steak."

“A man walks down the street in that hat, people know he’s not afraid of anything.”

I can be fast again, but not today. And not tomorrow. Maybe not this summer. And certainly not if I do something stupid like try to act like I'm fast now.

We are who we are. And we are at the exact place in our life where we are supposed to be. Forcing ourselves to be something, or someone, or somewhere else never goes well.

Change, positive, real change, takes patience, and practice, and work, and commitment. You can't wish yourself into shape, physical or otherwise.

So let those boys run out in front. You just keep working on your own stuff. And one day soon, they'll be squinting, trying to find you off in the distance.

Good running,
Doug

One red sock

2011-03-22T09:20:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna warn you now... this one's going to be a little on the gross side.

Ok, maybe a lot on the gross side. Like maybe 30 or 40 yards deep into gross territory.

The squeamish should probably go here instead. Or here. Or maybe here.

Either way, you've been warned.

I know, right? See, I told ya.

That's what I saw when I pulled my shoe off after a 6 miler. And let me tell ya, the picture doesn't really do it justice. It looked like something you'd see in some cheesy film-school lawnmower-turned-evil short.

What would be going through your mind if that lovely sight greeted you... and it was your foot?

Here are the thoughts that went through my head... in order:

1) Cool!

2) Huh. I didn't feel anything. Still don't. That's weird.

3) Damn, I love these socks.

4) Hey, it's still wet. I can rinse them out in the shower. Sweet!

5) I wonder what kind of carnage is going down in there...

Note: At no time did the thought occur to me that I might have lost a toenail. Or a toe. Or that I'd stepped on a nail. Or been a snack for some voracious spider-scorpion-pacman hybrid.

Inside the sock, there was blood... a LOT of blood. Most of my not-so-big toes were covered in blood. But no real damage. Toenails intact. All toes accounted for. No critters scrambling for cover.

All of that blood came from one tiny hole in the side of my middle toe. One teeny-tiny hole.

So why all the gore?

Because life is messy sometimes, but usually, things aren't as bad as they look at first.

One day, probably soon, you're gonna take off your metaphorical shoe and find a metaphorical horribly bloody sock.

You can scream and make a scene and limp around like an invalid. Seriously, go right ahead. No one will think less of you.

Or... you can look at that sock, examine it. Wonder why and how. Contemplate it, and your reaction to it. Soak in that moment and experience it for what it is.

It's a surprise, a break from the ordinary.

It's an unexpected jolt, snapping you from your sleepy routine and reminding you that the unexpected, the unplanned, is a part of life... maybe the best part.

It's an awakening.

It's also a reminder to take that extra second or two when you're trimming your toenails to make sure you don't leave a razor-sharp pointy bit on the side.

The sock rinsed clean. Band-aid on the toe stemmed the crimson tide. All's back to normal.

Things always, eventually, settle back to normal.

Good running,

Doug

Images from here and me.

The perfect lunch for feeling awesome

2011-03-15T18:49:00.000-07:00

The perfect lunch on a cold, dreary, rainy day is NOT a bowl of spinach and tuna.

That's what I had today. Not what I wanted, but what I had.

Yesterday I gave in to my deeper desire for immediate gratification and french fries. I went to Wendy's and had a nice, warm, salt-ridden serving of cholesterol and fat. And it was delicious.

Until it was gone.

The rest of the day, I felt like crap. That oh-man-why-did-I-eat-that crap.

Crap is the opposite of awesome.

Later in the evening, I was tired. Really tired. Lethargic. Not just from my stupefying lunch. It was a long, slog of a day.

All I wanted to do when I got home was plop down in front of the tube and waste the evening. And maybe drink.

Instead, I drug my ass to Hot Yoga for Runners*. Why? Mostly out of mindless loyalty to my training program. It says right there... "Monday: Yoga". Kinda like when my calendar says "Dentist: 9:00am". I don't want to go, but I go because the calendar says to.

When I got there I realized I'd forgotten my mat. "Ha! The universe is telling me to go home and veg. See ya, suckers!"

I was out the door.

Halfway back to my car, I stopped.

A tiny, soft, whispering voice inside my head said, "Hey, you. Yes you, jackass. I thought you wanted to feel awesome. If you go home now, that just means one more day of feeling like crap."

That stupid, sensible, and kinda rude little voice really pisses me off sometimes.

I turned around. I went back in. I rented a mat. I sweat my ass off for an hour.

And today, I had a salad for lunch.

It's easy to say that you want to do the right thing, the best thing for you. Everyone wants to think that that's what they want.

The moment, or moments, of truth, are when we decide if we really mean it.

In those moments we have to fight against our habits, our urges, and our fears. We have to summon the courage, strength, and good sense just long enough to side-step our base desires.

And those moments come everyday.

When you're faced with deciding between immediate gratification and one tiny step toward long-term awesomeness, which will you choose?

Good running,
Doug

*Should be called "Hey runners, you think you sweat out there? I'll show you sweat. Come in here for an hour and we'll melt you."

Image from here.

The year of feeling awesome

2011-03-12T17:20:00.000-08:00

This morning was the same as most mornings. That's not a good thing.

I woke up sore. Rolling out of bed was a festival of crackling and popping. Once on my feet, I stood, motionless, waiting for the sore muscles to accept that they were indeed being put back into service, one more day. When I felt I had a greater than 50% chance of not face-planting on my first step, I moved slowly toward the door, hoping that the pogo stick that I call my dog wouldn't knock me on my ass.

After padding around the house for a few minutes, the parts started cooperating, and I was walking more or less normally. But for the rest of the day, if I'd been sitting for more than a few minutes, I had to replay a short version of the morning, coaxing the stiff and sore bits back to life.

In the immortal words of The Dude, who was quoting the least incompetent of the Bush presidents, so far, "This will not stand."

I see people every day, some younger than I am, barely able to move. They shuffle when they try to walk. They fall into chairs. Getting back out is a feat of leverage, rocking momentum, and sometimes pulleys. That, sir, will not be me.

2010 was the year of getting my head back on straight. I ran and wrote every day. Those two habits served me well. They were the key parts to my process of figuring out who the hell I was and what that means.

And it worked. I've never felt more in touch with the guy inside this body.

Now, it's time to focus on that body.

2011 is the year of feeling awesome... physically.

My dear friend and yogic mentor Robin reminds me (often) that there's absolutely no reason to suffer. If you're stiff, stretch. If you're sore, take an ibuprofen and go easy next time. If you're in a bad place, move.

My plan is... ok, I don't have a plan yet. As my plan comes together, I'll fill you above-average looking readers in on the whats and hows.

I know I'm going to be stretching every day. I'm going to eat a little less and a bit more healthy. I'm going to do some strength work.

And soon I'm going to friggin' run, get out of bed, bend over to pet the dog, and generally live, in a much more accommodating body.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here.

It's good to feel good

2011-03-09T20:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, when I dragged my carcass out of bed, I felt like I'd awakened into a new body.

The yuckiness from Monday - the tightness, the soreness, the metaphorical rust - gone. All it took was an entire evening of stretching and kneading, a dash of foam roller self-abuse, and an icepack for dessert.

And with my fresh-from-the-body-shop body came a new attitude. It's so refreshing to not be miserable. Without the fog of despair that a nagging injury brings to the party, the day wasn't half bad.

And my first work-based run in ages, was fairly rockin'.

I ran well. I didn't get hit by a car. Didn't get hit by a beer can from a car. Didn't even have my masculinity questioned from any passing hill-jacks.

Taking a slightly different (i.e. shorter) route, I noticed this oddity...

At some point, some developer had a serious crush on Susan. I'm guessing this intersection creeped her out.

The most daunting part of the run was dressing. Or more to the point, undressing. My new office has about 4000% more windows. Two whole walls of windows. And there I was, sans clothes, jaybird-like, holding on desperately to my belief that the windows are, indeed, mirrored on the outside.

A view of the people who I hoped didn't have a view of my junk.

Post-run, I didn't crumble into a heap. A little stretching and I was right back to work. My positive vibe has lasted through to today.

I don't like that it feels weird to be in a good mood.

I'm thinking that my 2-month sabbatical was less vacation, and more punishment. Punishment for not taking better care of myself while I was running every day. Karmic backdraft for hubris.

Having my feet back under me and on the road where they belong, and having a goal to keep them there, is what I need.

We need a goal. We need accomplishment, or at least to feel that we are striving for something. Something that we don't know that we can achieve. It gives us purpose. It challenges us, and our self-imposed limits.

It also helps to mark our time on the planet.

Without goals, either achieved or not, time wooshes by, unnoticed. And before long, 2 months, or 2 decades, gone. And you don't have anything to show for it.

Good running,

Doug

Gravy and Chili and Not-So-Hot Yoga

2011-03-07T16:56:00.000-08:00

Have you ever eaten at Old Country Buffet? It's like every Chinese Buffet in the world, but with even worse food. Like MCL, but with an average age north of 93. About the same number of wheel chairs, though.

Old Country Buffet is the world's third largest consumer of butter. Not the whole chain. The one I went to. Outside the door there's a mat to wipe the cholesterol from your shoes on your way out.

I was there against my will this weekend. I tried to be good. Half of my plate was salad and veggies. But the mashed potatoes and "steak" frightened the salad right off the plate. Then a fried-something picked up the green beans and threw them into the jello. When I returned from fetching a drink, my pile of mashed potatoes had doubled in size. I'm pretty sure the "steak" went back for reinforcements. And I didn't remember getting any gravy.

They serve something that looks like a "roll" but it might as well be called a spoon because it's essentially a gravy delivery system.

It's been two days since I shoveled that mess into my mouth, and I still feel as if I'd had a transfusion of gristle and lard.

But that's not why you're here...

I did not run yesterday or today. Both planned days off. What was planned for today, however, I bagged.

Monday's are yoga days.

As I type this, I an supposed to be at Yoga for Runners, an especially sadistic hot yoga class designed to make runners hate yoga.

I was there last week, my first hot yoga experience. Just about puked. Not kidding.

When they say "hot" yoga, they are not fudging around. I was sweating like a glass of ice tea in a steam bath.

Oh, and do NOT eat a bowl of chili before hot yoga. It took every bit of my zen reserves, and all the strength of my pyloric sphincter, to keep that chili off of my mat. And the floor. And my neighbor's mat. And my neighbor.

So why aren't you there, you big wuss. Afraid you'd launch your lunch?

Excuse me... Do you have to use that tone? It's rude, you know...

I woke up today feeling like I'd had cement pumped into my hips. I spent all day today stretching. Ok, not all day. I had to work. I set an alarm to remind me to get up and stretch every hour.

Despite all of that stretching, the hips and lower back still a might tight. No idea why they are so bad today, but having forced the yogic issue before, I decided to stretch on my own, easily, at home, without the climate of Hades.

Go ahead, call me a loser.

LOSER!

Seriously!? Why are you even here?

I'm waiting for a webinar to start.

I'm going to yo' my own 'ga this evening, smooth and easy, gentle and sane. With an ice pack back.

Tomorrow, we ride! Wait... I meant run... we run!

Good running,
Doug

Images from here and here.

WD40 and BodyGlide

2011-03-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

You know what it's like the first time you take your bike out after the winter? All the squeaking, and grinding, and wobbling.

Yeah, that was how my run went yesterday.

Even though I stretched. Even though I took it easy, there was rust to be shaken off and sticky points that needed some lube.

Luckily, it was cold and drizzling and windy.

Undaunted, I wore shorts. At the end, my thighs were as red as the Huffy I had when I was 8.*

The run itself felt great. It's afterbirth that I ... wait, that's not right... aftermath that I have a problem with.

Could someone please explain to me why an easy, well prepared for 3 mile run has left me achy and whiny, when a what-the-hell 5K run considerably faster did not? Anyone?

In the "pro"column, my best running buddy got out for her first run of the year.

"Nice look albino-legs. Now put the camera away and

let's get running or I swear I'll bite your face off!"

Today, stretching. And whining. And keeping a weary eye on that dog.

Good Running,

Doug

*My Huffy was actually yellow... poetic license deployed.

Photo from here and me.

Couch to Half-Marathon... or grave, either way.

2011-03-04T18:13:00.000-08:00

Today, I start my training for the 500 Festival Mini marathon. And by "start my training" I mean I skipped my lunch run and went to Qdoba.

When I went to Qdoba for lunch yesterday, I wasn't skipping a run, just eating irresponsibly, so that didn't count as "training".

Today, though, I brought my gear. That's practically running.

I might even put an entry in my log: "Mini Training Day 1: 0.0 miles... felt good."

I've got 63 days to get ready for a half-marathon. 9 weeks. That's not enough, really.

The Couch-to-5K (http://www.c25k.com/) program is 9 weeks. That's reasonable.

Couch-to-Half-Marathon program? There isn't one, because that would be stupid. Who goes from 2 months with (almost) zero miles to a half-marathon in 9 weeks? Stupid people, that's who.

Well, for those who don't already know me... I'm just that stupid. (Seriously... check out the posts from 2010... all kinds of stupid.)

If you like public self-destruction, and who doesn't, stay tuned.

That's right, above-average-looking readers...I'm back.

Tomorrow, I lace up my running shoes and maybe walk around the living room a bit.

Good running,

Doug

Image from here.

Taking a Stand Against Tyranny... in Fishers Indiana

2011-02-27T17:42:00.000-08:00

After nearly 2 months off of the roads, I have been going, for all intents and purposes, batty.

My planned couple of weeks off to let my body heal hasn't gone as planned.

My heel still isn't 100%, which baffles me. Makes me think that it's not running related. But what then? I've hardly done anything more strenuous than Words with Friends for weeks.

Hence the baffling.

What's clear, though, is that if I don't get back on the roads, I will go insane.

So, yesterday, I jumped into a race (Tiger Trot 5K).

Yep, with one whole run in the last 55 days, a 3.2 mile run which all but hobbled me for 10 days, I declared myself ready to race.

Hey, I've done things way more stupid than this. Besides, it was only a 5K. Pfffft. I used to warmup with a 5K. Barefoot. Uphill. A hill littered with broken glass and angry scorpions. At night.

Sure it was cold. And yes, the streets were a little icy. But really, is there a more inspiring place to run than Fishers, IN?

Ok, there are 73 sextillion more inspiring places to run than Fishers, IN.

However, Fishers is where the race was. And the race benefitted the Fishers Track and Cross Country programs. I don't live in Fishers. In fact, my kids compete against Fishers, but I like to know that my race fee is going to a good cause.

Unfortunately, that assurance is getting harder to find.

Let me explain...

The 500 Festival* Mini-Marathon is a hugely successful event. It is well organized and a first class race. It is, by far, the biggest running event in the state. If you tell someone in Indiana that you are a runner, they assume you run the Mini. It is the de facto running event, and the only running event that most people around here know about.

"The Mini" owes a big part of its success to Mini Training Programs all over the city that teach runners how to prepare for a half-marathon, and provide guidance and group runs to make it all go smooth. They also owe a lot to the small, local races around Central Indiana that for many years provided a build-up to the Mini.

Thanks to this ecosystem that was built around the training programs and the local races, runners were able to train and race close to home, in the midst of and with support from their local running community. The training programs and races paved the way to the Mini, showing the not-so-hard-core runner that a half-marathon was doable, and could even be fun. Runners met other runners from their neighborhoods, found running buddies, and developed friendships that kept them running. And also kept coming back to the mini, year after year.

30,000+ runners and walkers each pay about $60 to participate in the Mini each year. That's roughly $1.8 million, before sponsorships. It's one of the top grossing races in the country.

The 500 Festival, apparently not satisfied with $1.8M, noticed people paying to participate in these other training programs and "build up" races, and decided that they wanted that money, too.

As part of the registration process for the Mini, you are encouraged to also sign up for the 500 Festival training events; a 5K, a 10K, and a 15K, all leading up to the big race. All 3 of these training events are big, thousands of runners. They are all downtown on essentially the same course. They all are devoid of local flare and personality. They are boring, soulless, and they benefit only the 500 Festival.

Oh, and on the 500 Festival website are "training schedules" that give people workout plans to prepare them for the race. Not surprisingly, these schedules include tune-up races which just happen to be the 500 Festival training events.

Most people who run the Mini don't know any better. They don't know what other races are available. They don't think about where their money is going and what other options there might be. The 500 Festival makes it easy for the runner, just like McDonalds. Just click here and here and we'll give you something and tell you it's awesome. And take your money.

Unfortunately, for way too many runners, "running" means being an anonymous participant in a big race downtown. A dot in a sea of movement through city streets. They've never experienced the camaraderie and solidarity of heading out with a horde of a couple hundred, recognizing friends, making new ones, on a wintery race course winding through neighborhoods, with volunteers standing at each mile marker reading off splits, telling you you're looking good, and ending on the high school track, one lane of which is freshly shoveled clear by some grateful young sprinters and high-jumpers who are also on hand at the finish line to clap for every finisher.

Some of the good training programs survive, but the local races are dying off. These races, with budgets in the hundreds of dollars, raise thousands of dollars for local charities, school sports, and other good causes. They also are the backbone of their local running communities.

Know what would have been really great? If, instead of Walmarting the local running communities, the 500 Festival would partner with and publicize the local races, creating a wide-spread, varied training series. There could be races all over the city, every weekend, showcasing neighborhoods, and pumping money into so many worthwhile causes.

If the 500 Festival chose to use their immense marketing power to build stronger local running communities, they could expose the new runners to the diversity of running experiences all around the city and surrounding counties. It could make Indy one of the strongest running cities in the country. Almost overnight.

By running local, runners could develop the connections and the friendships that you just don't get in a mega-big race. And with their buddies for support, the runners would be much more likely to keep running after the Mini, turning from people who gut it through one half-marathon a year, into year-round, life-long runners.

I'm going to ask for a favor of you above-average-looking readers - before you run a 500 Festival training event, look around for another race first. When you find out someone is thinking of running one of these events, see if they'd like to run close to home. And maybe let them know that, having a training group will greatly improve their chances of having a great Mini.

But Doug, where do I find these other races?

Good question alert reader of above-average-intelligence. Here's a link to the the most up-to-date and comprehensive site for Central Indiana races that I know of: Indy Runners Race Calendar.

Cool, thanks. By the way, how'd your race go?

It went well, thanks. Ran faster than I thought I would. All systems held up. I didn't slip on the ice, and I even beat this guy:

Subway Man

I bet you won't see Subway Man at the 500 Festival training events.

Good running,
Doug

*Note: The 500 Festival is not directly associated with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the Indianapolis 500, or the Izod IndyCar Series, all three of which I have great respect for, as well as an unnatural attraction to.

The Man... Big John

2011-02-20T11:38:00.000-08:00

I'm calling a TO from the running babble for a different kind of post. The usual nonsense/whining/preaching will be back soon enough. This, is personal.

If you live near Indianapolis, or you follow the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, you know that the immortal Tom Carnegie passed away recently. You know because it was covered on every slice of news media. Rightly so.

Tom is a legend. His voice was as much a part of the The Speedway as the bricks, and it will echo in the rafters of the grandstands for ever.

Tom played to the crowd, and he did it well. We ate out of his hands during qualifying, and it isn't the same without "And... He's... on it!" "Gooooood morning, race fans!" was the start of the ritual every race morning, as I sat patiently in my seat, hours before the green flag dropped.

On the IMS PA, Tom was the show.

But in my book, John Totten was the man.

John was the unassuming one. The guy who filled in the gaps. The guy who knew exactly what was going on, and told us about it, matter-of-factly, with the silky smooth, deep timber of a professional broadcaster.

Big John, with essential clipboard, pen, and pencil.

John is best known for his work on qualifying days. The old qualifying days, when we didn't have video screens in the infield and speeds didn't pop on boards a second after a car breaks the line.

After Tom told us that he was, indeed, on it, it was John who called the car around the track. "He's out of one, 18 inches from the south chute wall, into 2, left side rubber just kissing the white line, smooth as he drifts out 6 inches off the wall and comes down a couple feet as he settles in for the backstretch..."

They traded back and forth, seamlessly, without a director in their ears. John with the call, Tom with the facts and the cheerleading.

Tom got the crowd to cheer. John told the story. John painted the picture. John kept us on the edge of our seats.

It was more romantic, and for me, more exciting hearing it, as opposed to seeing it on the big screen. On the screen, most runs look the same. But John made every run unique. He could pick out the subtle differences between one driver's line, and another driver's. Or even differences between runs, laps, even corners, for a single driver.

John knew how to convey a driver riding on the edge, taking the car faster than the car wanted to go, and he did it without screaming, without hyperbole, without telling us "he's really trying hard".

John wasn't flashy. Not even close to flashy. The opposite of flashy. John was... a pro.

As much as he loved qualifications, John was at his best was during the week at "happy hour", that golden hour between 5:00p and 6:00p when the track was cool and the speeds would bounce.

The pit lane would come to life as every team looked for the limit, and hoped to make a headline.

It was crazy, chaotic, and it could be confusing, if John wasn't on the PA stand.

Here's a little game you can play next time you're at The Speedway during a busy practice. When lots of cars are dashing out of the pits, ripping a couple laps, darting in for a quick change, and going back out again, pay close attention to the PA.

How often do you hear the car number, and then the driver's name, like "There goes car #37... Ryan Hunter-Reay", and how many times do you hear the name, and then the number, like "Here comes Ryan Hunter-Reay in car #37"

Would you even notice the difference? There is a difference. The difference is that announcers who do the number first, and then the name, are looking it up. They see the number, start to talk, look down at the sheet, say the name. Or at best, they're doing it in their head. Number... driver.

The pros know who's car it is immediately. Not by number, but by sight. And they tell you who it is. Immediately. And not just AJ, Mario, and Rick. Every car. Every time.

And the super-stars recognize if the helmet doesn't match the driver who is usually in the car, and they do it on the fly, and call it before the car is by them. "Here comes Fittipaldi trying out Al Jr's car."

Nothing got by John. He was sharp, alert, and he knew his shit. Cold. And everyone knew it. It was no coincidence that he was on that stand during happy hour. No one did it as well. No one dared try.

One more key fact about John Totten. He was my step-dad.

For 20 years he was a positive force in my life, and just when I really needed a positive force in my life. He taught me a thousand things. To be patient, accepting, kind, and warm. That the drivers aren't the only heros at the race track. And that accolades and cheers aren't important... a job very, very well done, really is reward enough.

I was an Indy 500 fan before I knew John. But John helped me to learn, appreciate, and love auto racing. Some of my favorite race day memories happened after the race when John would take me to the garages. I got to see the crews and the owners and the drivers relaxed, when the month was over. The fans were gone. It was just racing family. And they all greeted John with a smile. Sometimes the smile came with a shrug when the day didn't go great. But they always were glad to see him.

We watched countless other races together, races of all forms, on a crappy, 13'' TV in our kitchen in Lebanon. The sound was always up too loud, and John would smoke through the whole race. He wouldn't say much, and he never stood up and screamed at the drivers who were half a world away*. When he did comment, he was succinct, insightful, and on point. And I paid attention.

The last race I watched with John was Cleveland 1997 when Alex Zanardi sat on pole, dropped back to damn-near last after pitting while the pits were closed, and stormed back through the field to win. John was in the ICU at the time with a vent in his throat. He wasn't smoking that time, but he also wasn't talking.

Just watching the race was a big day for him. We watched the pre-race and the start, then he started to doze off after Zanardi's early pit mis-step. I told him not to worry, that he probably wouldn't miss very much if he took a quick snooze.

He woke up just before Zanardi passed de Ferran for the lead. He tapped me on the shoulder and mouthed to me "Looks like I missed something." Succinct, insightful, and on point. And a perfect example of the man's deadpan humor.

That afternoon we the last time I saw John conscious. He died a couple weeks later.

When I sat next to John on those early qualification days, just as I was getting to know him, I was fascinated by his stopwatches. He used 3-second sweep watches, perfectly encased in a black rubber "Autolite" case. Before digital stopwatches, the ones with "lap" features, you needed two watches to time consecutive laps. The 3-second sweep is accurate, and mesmerizing, and it oozes class and sophistication. Not the "I have one of these and you don't" sophistication. The "I know what the hell I'm doing" sophistication.

For hours on those weekends in May I studied how he held the watches, how he used them. During practice, I practiced myself, trying to stop one and start the other at precisely the same time. I learned to read them almost as fast as he could. To me, those watches were as unattainable as the microphone. One day, after he'd bowed to the times and started using a digital watch, he gave them to me. It was as if John Lennon had given me his white piano. They are among a handful of possessions I consider priceless.

Proper from for the use of 3-second sweeps

Those of us who listened to Tom and John on the PA while we were being infused with the smells and the grit and the sound and the thrilling danger and the glorious speed that became such a big part of us, were treated to the best of the best.

I would give anything to be able to unplug those big screens, and listen to Tom and John call a few qualification runs. I want to relive the drama of imagining where the car was after it disappeared around turn one until it emerged from four, and the suspense of the "time and speed report", drawn out, with the crowd holding their breath, or shushing each other, hanging on every syllable, scribbling the numbers.

Just a few more runs, to remind us all just how great it used to be.

And I wouldn't mind hanging out with the old man, either.

Good running,

Doug

*I can't say the same about myself.

Intelligence is Bliss

2011-01-31T17:11:00.000-08:00

Found out from my sister that my lives-at-his-mom’s-but-is-also-going-to-college-so-go-easy-on-him nephew has a girlfriend. Serious girlfriend. A whole 2 months serious. So serious that she spends more time at my sister’s house than my nephew does.

She’s 19, tiny, very sweet, well-pierced, more than a little tattooed, and very good for the boy. She’s also in the National Guard and headed to Iraq in a week.

My sister’s taking the happy couple out for dinner before the pierced one ships out. Seeing as how she’s the one going to a sand-blown baking-hot corner of hell, she gets to pick the restaurant.

Her favorite restaurant is Olive Garden.

Did that make you chuckle a little? Me too. “Silly girl...”, I thought.

In the past year I’ve had the pleasure of dining in some of the best restaurants in the country. I savor every second of every meal... the first smell, the first bite, the textures, the complexity, the genius of a well-crafted recipe. I’ve had food that's so good, it almost makes me cry. I’ve also had checks at the end of those meals that almost make me pass out. Totally worth it.

I’ve had wines that taste like what heaven would taste like if it existed. And was made of wine. I can close my eyes and feel the luxurious, almost chewy Kuleto Danielli cabernet, like it’s still covering the roof of my mouth like a very tasty coat of paint. I remember the feeling of awe when I first tasted Stag’s Leap Cask 23, never thinking something so delicious, and lovely, and perfectly drinkable could come from a glass.

I loved these wines so much that now I get wines delivered to me from these vineyards, a few times a year, through ridiculously complex measures, and for an equally ridiculous price. When the charge hits, I cringe. Yet when the box arrives, I scurry for a knife, as eager to open it as any Christmas present. More, actually. I don't care for Christmas, much. These great wines have driven me to hunt for more wines, wines that are also great, for wholly different reasons, but expensive in the usual way.

I remember when I thought Corona was a great beer. That was before I took the leap, and some recommendations from friends like BiHo, Dafforn, and Marty, and tried some craft beers. Ok, a lot of craft beers. Who knew that what most people call beer is actually carbonated clydesdale urine. You didn't think they kept those horses around just for the parades and Super Bowl commercials, did you?

Knowing what pleasures are out there, and finding some of those that you truly treasure, is a great gift.

It’s also a curse.

I refuse to think about how much money I’ve spent on all of that fabulous food and insanely great wine. On the rare occasions I buy a 6-pack of beer I like, I try not to notice that I could get a case of “making love in a canoe” beer for the same price.

If only I had never tried those things, life would be easier.

The nephew’s girlfriend will be thrilled to be at Olive Garden. When the food comes, I’m sure she’ll giggle with delight. She’ll “Oooh” and “Ahhh” and make yummy noises over the salad and the pasta and the breadsticks and leave totally satisfied, and thankful for the chance to enjoy such a fulfilling meal.

People with simple tastes may be missing out on some things. They may not know the difference between what they like, and what they are supposed to like. But they may not care. They’ve set themselves up with a simple life, with simple pleasures, and simple rewards. It’s easy. They’re happy. That’s all that counts.

Low expectations are easy to satisfy.

For the last month, I’ve been facing the pain of unsatisfied expectations. And it blows.

No, Brockway didn’t plug their taps into the back end of a Bud Light truck. And the wine is still making it’s round-a-bout trips to my basement rack.

My problem is that I’ve been unable to run. For a month.

I realize that to most people, that's no big deal. If would be no big deal to me either, if I didn’t know what I was missing. If I were a couch sweet potato, I wouldn’t care that my legs have lost that first bit of bounce. I wouldn't notice that my temper is shorter, and my patience thinner, and my mood darker. I would be content to take root in front of the TV as my mind and body wasted away.

This nagging scourge in my heel would be nothing more than a reason to walk less, park closer, take the elevator.

But no. I'm a runner. I know what it’s like to scream down a street, feet barely touching the ground, wind whistling in my ears, mailboxes going past in an ever quickening rhythm, until I hit my finish line, heart pounding, lungs heaving, with a giant smile plastered on my face beaming the pleasure and deep satisfaction of hauling ass.

I’ve been out on a trail, miles from another human, with a million trees around me, and a thin dirt line stretched out before me, beckoning, daring me to continue. I’ve felt the dirt give ever-so-slightly as I zip through a tight turn around a tree. I’ve felt weightless on a descent, my legs churning as fast as they can, each foot just meeting the ground in time to keep gravity from sucking me, face first, to the bottom.

I’ve sat in a chair, having run hours before, still feeling the warmth in my legs. I’ve walked around the office with the relaxed, easy stride that strong, flexible, well-used legs give you.

I’ve been in bed, totally at rest, totally relaxed, totally ready for sleep. My run that day has left me tired, but fulfilled. My head is clear, my mind at peace and looking forward to tomorrow’s run.

Just like true love, really great food, excellent beer, fine wine, and running will spoil you. Once you have experienced these things, once they are in your life, you know their value. You know their beauty. And you know that without them, you wouldn’t be totally you.

I’m a “better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all” kinda guy, but not everyone’s up for that.

Look before you leap. Think before you step up to that restaurant you've always wondered about, the next rung up the dining ladder. Don’t experiment with “fancy” beers unless you are willing to pay the tab. And don’t buy any wine you can’t afford, or the ones you can afford will just piss you off.

And don’t take up running lightly. You may just find yourself wanting, needing to do it every day, and missing it terribly when you can’t.

Good running,
Doug

Image from here, me, and here, and me again.

Stir crazy

2011-01-24T15:08:00.000-08:00

Know that feeling when you’ve spent too much time in your house? That feeling where you want to be anywhere but where you are. The longer you stay where you are the more you don’t want to be there?

That’s how I feel. Except it’s not my house, it’s my body.

It’s been over 3 weeks since I’ve run, and the runner inside me is dying to get out.

It’s driving me crazy.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. I was off work and was able to lounge around, a lot.

The second week was interesting. Back at work, the habit, the compulsion to run, would spring to life a couple times a day, especially at lunch. But, it was more entertaining than anything else... “Hmmm, isn’t that weird how I have nothing to do at lunch besides eat lunch?”, “I feel totally naked walking into work without my running bag.”, “Freezing rain? Pfffft, what do I care.” Stuff like that.

Since then, my body has been in outright rebellion. I don’t sleep well. I’m thirsty all the time. I pee, all the time. I’m moody. I’m always hungry.

Essentially, I’m in withdrawal.

My body got used to having a regular hit of endorphins. Without it, the days dull, the senses numb, and the mind slow.

My legs miss their daily workout. They twitch and flinch and cry out for a long, steady, sweaty run and a chance to drop the hammer the last mile.

So why don’t you run, doofus?

Good question, but please don’t call me “doofus”.

The problem is my heel. My left heel. The problem heel.

As the streak drew to a close, and the prospect of time off went from a far-off concept to a reality, I let myself get sucked into a chase. A mileage chase. A stupid, mileage chase.

I’ve said it before...mileage goals are stupid. It’s too easy to over run yourself when you have a number in your sights. You start counting the miles and stop listening to your body.

Even when you know better.

And I do know better. But I did it anyway. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But wait, there’s more. Thanks to my lovely date with frostbite, I’d switched to conventional running shoes that were very close to my unconventional running shoes. But, there was a difference. They were forcing me to work a couple muscles that hadn’t been worked in while. Those muscles would have been totally cool with that, had I not also piled on so many stupid miles.

Even so, I thought that with a week off, maybe two, it’d be good as new. I thought wrong. Doing nothing for two weeks made it only slightly better than it would have been having run every day for two weeks. Now, I’m stretching, strengthening, icing, yoga-ing, and doing my best to be patient.

So, I still haven’t run yet. It’s killing me. I have big plans for this year, running wise, and I don’t want to spend the year nursing my heal just because I was too eager to get back on the road.

To take ourselves to new heights, we need to be fit; physically, mentally, and emotionally. We need to resist that urge to do something just because we don't like doing nothing, even when nothing is the best thing we can be doing. Blasting out ill-prepared, or ill-equipped, usually doesn’t end well. It’s better to reach the top a little later than planned, than not at all.

The good news...my time hasn’t been wasted. Actually, it’s been very productive, if you measure productivity by the number of Battlestar Galactica episodes watched.

Netflix, ice pack, Napa Cab...I’m set for the evening.

Good running.
Doug

Photo from here.

Going Long - When the Going Gets Tough

2011-01-15T11:57:00.000-08:00

This week, I’m talking, ok, not really talking... writing, typing actually, about things I learned last year, the year I ran and wrote every day, about setting and achieving long term goals.

So far, we’ve talked about... uhm... let’s see... there was setting good goals, uh... having a good plan... and ways to keep you plugging away at that plan.

If you missed any of those, go ahead a click the links and catch up. I’ve got all day... just wake me when you get back...

... Ahh! Don’t touch the snake! It has cooties!!!

(wipes drool from chin, rubs eyes)

Oh, sorry. I was having that dream again... freaks me out every time...

Ok, back to work... this time we talk about how to manage your plan under the every day pressure from the rest of your life.

6) Make your goal a priority

It’s so easy to let your day get away from you. We're all busy. We've all got people and responsibilities pulling us in different directions. The day can zip by so, so fast. And it’s so, so easy to let all of that stuff rationalize why you don’t get your run in.

There were days when I’d look at my schedule and scratch my head. “When can I possibly squeeze in a run.” Somedays, it had to be done at O-dark-thirty, or it wasn't going to happen. Most days I wasn't awake at O-dark-thirty, so I had to make sure I had clean (enough) gear to take for a lunch run, and pack a lunch.

I’m telling right now, if you just tell yourself "I'll get a run in today." it has maybe a 50% chance of happening. You need to make an appointment with your run. Plan ahead, set a time, and make it stick. Make it as important as any other meeting or appointment you have that day.

7) Be flexible

The problem is, unless you're P-Diddy Puff-Daddy Snoopie Von PopStar, the world doesn’t run on your schedule. To make things work, to keep on track, you need to be creative, well prepared, and flexible.

Way too many times when I knew the only time I could get a run in was during lunch, around 11:00am a lunch meeting would drop out of the sky. That's an Oh-sh!t, Code Blue, What-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do moment.

If you’re hit with an unavoidable disruption, have a backup plan, or at least be ready to improvise.

I kept spare running gear in my car. I called it my “disaster readiness kit”. It was crappy shoes, bad socks, baggy shorts, and an old race shirt I hadn’t worn in years. But in a pinch, it would have sufficed for a mile or two. I never had to use that kit, but it was close a few times. I did run at 10:30pm once. That was calling it a little too close, but it was better than running in those dreadful "disaster" shorts.

When the world takes a dump on your day, don’t let that be an excuse. Think if it as a challenge. Show that day that you aren’t to be messed with. See what else in your day can be shifted. Take a conference call while running. Run in the airport. If all else fails, you can always run at night.

8) The moment of truth

Some days, you will not want to run. This happened to me, a lot, last year, but there was one morning in particular that stands out. It was cold and yucky outside. It was warm and cozy in my bed. I was scheduled to run a race downtown. All I wanted at that moment was to go back to bed.

This, or something very much like it, will happen to you. I promise. And more than once.

It’s these moments of truth where you either give in, or you don’t. It is a decision. And it’s a difficult decision, because everything in your present is telling you to stay in bed, or not run, or skip your workout, or blow off the race. Your instincts are telling you to stay put.

But we're human. We're sentient beings. We set goals to get us to a better version of us. And it's that better version of us that needs to push that sleepy wuzzy out of the way and take over the decision making authority. That person knows that though it might feel good to stay in bed, for a little while, we’ll feel like crap once we do fall out of bed, realizing that we’ve let ourselves down.

When you’re facing that moment of truth, imagine yourself in the future, 2 ways. The first, the future version of you who failed to meet your goal. The second, the future version of you who succeeded. Is being that second version worth getting out of bed for? Is staying in bed worth becoming that first version?

The moment of truth is when you decide between doing what feels good, or is easy, or comfortable, now, and what you know will make you feel even better, later.

Good now, or great later.

9) Be compassionate with yourself

There will probably be a time when you miss a scheduled run. Despite all of your planning and flexibility and prioritization, things just don’t work out.

If you get injured, or sick, or just have a bad streak, that's ok. When you're better, ease back into it, and get yourself back on track. Don't let any setback become an excuse to quit.

An online buddy of mine, Chris, started a running streak a couple years ago. His goal was 1000 days in a row. He made it 364 days. I am not making this up. 364 days. On day 365 he had the flu so bad he couldn’t run even a mile.

After coming so f-in close to running a year straight, it would have been totally understandable if Chris had thrown his hands up and declared “Screw that! I'm taking up golf!” But he didn’t. As soon as he was well, he started again... at 1.

Today, his streak is still alive. He’s over 740 days and going strong.

The goal is just that, a goal. It’s the process of trying to achieve that goal that changes you, challenges you, and makes you stronger. And maybe thinner. It's the days you fight off your inner wimp, the days you do something you never thought you could do, the days when you think back at who you were when you started and wonder how you could have ever settled for that... those days add character, and give you glimpses of how great you can be.

...aaaaaannnnd scene.

Here endeth the Go Long series. I encourage you above-average-looking readers to share your goals, and any other hints that you find useful, in the comments below.

Next week, back to the usual nonsense.

Good running,
Doug

Going Long - The Hard Part

2011-01-11T15:18:00.000-08:00

Over the last couple and next few days, I’m spewing out tips on how to set and achieve long term goals by sharing some of the things that I learned last year while I was running and writing, every day. Literally, every day in 2010.

If you missed the last couple days, no worries. You can catch up easy. All we didi was learned how to set non-stupid goals, and what a good plan to accomplish those goals looks like. Go ahead, click the links, read up. We'll just talk amongst ourselves...

... oh man, that's the funniest thing I've ever... Oh, hey! You're back. Cool...

Ok... where are we? Oh yeah...

We have a good goal, and a plan to get us there. Excellent.

I guess we’re done.

Oh, wait... I forgot, we’re human.

As humans, we have a tendency to get distracted by life. We can lose motivation. We can stumble.

Let’s see what we can do to work through this damn humanness.

People like, and, frankly, some of us need, frequent gratification. We aren’t very good at relentless pursuit of anything that’s good for us. We need the occasional spoon full of sugar. Hence...

3) Milestones

Like Reese’s Pieces for E.T., sprinkle a few intermediate goals in your plan. These should be significant accomplishments that show progress toward your goal, not just days on the calendar. For example, for our 5K race goal, a milestone might be reaching an accumulated total of 10 miles for your training, or running 2 miles non-stop, or not missing a scheduled run for 2 weeks.

The best part about having milestones is that they are to be celebrated. Go straight to the pub, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, do not even shower. Schedule a massage, or indulge in a pint of Chunky-Monkey.

The particulars of the milestones, and their rewards, don’t matter, except to you. They will help keep you motivated and focused. Pick milestones that you will feel good about reaching and that progressively lead you to your goal, and a reward that you will look forward to, one that will pull you along, as you close in on the milestone.

4) Blab!

Don’t you hate it when you set a goal and you don’t quite accomplish it? Man that’s awful, right? Happens though... all the time. We just lose motivation. Lose focus.

Know what would make it 1000 times worse? What if you told tons of people what your goal was and then you failed? Oh man, that would really suck!

Well, that’s why you tell tons of people what your goal is.

Tell your family, friends, relatives, co-workers, neighbors, dog, neighbor’s dog, mail carrier, barista, Twitter followers, Facebook friends, MySpace - whoa... you’re still on MySpace? How’s the weather in 2003? - your barber/stylist, the “genius” at the Genius Bar, the cop who pulls you over, the cop who books you, the cop you let’s you out on bail, the dude who bailed you out... geez, tell everyone what your trying to do.

Recruit these people onto your team to keep you accountable, motivated, focused, and energized.

The day I decided to try to run every day, I sent an email to everyone who I thought would know who the email was from, telling them what I was going to try to do. I can't tell you how many times last year someone asked me "Did you get your run in yet?" It was great to know that they were interested and to have their support.

And most importantly, I knew that if I quit, if I missed a day, I would have to explain it, over, and over. And over. And over. And I’ve have to relive that humiliation over, and over, and over.

That, my friends, is motivation.

5) Post your progress

An important part of recruiting your fans is giving them a way to track your progress. It should be easy, and convenient for them to tell that you are, indeed, right on track so they can give you a high-five, or fist bump, or pat on the touche, whichever is appropriate.

And it also needs to be easy and convenient for them to tell if you’ve started to waver, so they can give you a gentle nudge, or a firm talking to, or a kick in the ass, whichever is appropriate.

Me, I started this blog. You can start a blog, too. It's crazy easy. (I use Blogger.)

I remember one day I forgot to include my mileage at the bottom of my blog post. It wasn’t 5 minutes before I got an email, pointing out my error, and making sure I had just forgotten to include it, and not forgotten to run.

You can also do like my friend Rob who put a progress chart on the fridge at home for the whole family to see. Now he’ll get nagged by his kids if he falls behind.

Draw a graph, or running total chart, or United Way style thermometer, anything that makes it obvious where you are, where you should be, and what your goal is. Tape it up somewhere where people will see it. Give them the information they need to support you, and to keep you on track, and they will.

Ok, that's enough for today...more to come... next time I’ll talk about what making your plan work in the real world. Meanwhile, drop a few milestones in your plan, send out that blabbing email, and decide how you’re going to broadcast your progress.

Good running,
Doug

Going long - Have a Plan

2011-01-10T15:41:00.000-08:00

Over the next few days I’m trying to pay back you dear readers for following my antics last year with tips on how to achieve your long term goals by sharing some of the things that I learned last year. You know, 2010... the year I ran and wrote every day... yeah, there you go.

If you’re coming in in the middle, no sweat, you only missed one day. You can jump to the start... ready... set... jump.

Hey, you’re back. That was fast...

Ok, so we’ve set good goals, now what.

2) Have a Plan

Goals don’t just magically happen. Those are called "miracles". Goals take effort.

You're here.

You want to be there.

If you don’t have a plan, you aren't gonna get there.

When I decided I would run every day in 2010, one of the first things I did was think of all of the things that might cause me to miss a day. Injury, sickness, travel, darkness, forgetting my gear, just plain forgetting to run. Then, I listed ways to keep each of those from stopping me from my goal. Then, I implemented them.

The first thing I did was buy a head lamp so I could run in the dark. That was easy. But, I know myself, and I knew that the biggest threat to my goal was my own absent mindedness. So, I devoted a single bag to hold all of my running essentials that I could take anywhere. If I wasn't using it, it was in the bag. No forgetting my watch or hunting for my phone carrier while I'm trying to get out the door in the morning.

I also used the bag as a failsafe reminder. When I got home from work, if I'd run already, the bag went on a door handle. If I hadn't it went on the bed. If I tried to go to bed without running, I'd see bag, freak out, and get a quick run in. I know, genius, right?

I set rules as to what counted as a run, and what didn't, and mapped out routes close to home and work that met the minimum requirements and would be runnable no matter what the weather was like.

Those are just a few of the things I did to prepare myself for the year before it even started. Without taking a few minutes to think through a plan, I wouldn't have been nearly as prepared.

Let's start a plan for our goal...

First, write your goal down, perhaps at the top of a piece of paper, and think about what you need to have, and what you need to do, to accomplish your goal. Perhaps you could create a list.

Let's try it and see what happens... Write down your goal...

"I want to run a 5-K race before June 30th."

That’s great. Excellent start.

Now I suppose you could just go about your business until around June 15th, sign-up for a 5K, and suffer through it, brute force style. If you did that, you would be a douche. And you wouldn't, or at least you shouldn't, be proud of that "accomplishment". What would you have "accomplished", aside from a heart attack, stroke, shredded hamstrings, and/or a really awful looking finish line photo?

Instead, let’s actually train for this 5K. That’s really kinda the point, right? The race is symbolic, a reward for being committed to a regular training program, and presumably a springboard to even loftier goals.

The miracle that is Google will cough up 17-kajillion 5K training programs. Here are some good examples: this one, and this one, and this one.

Pick one that seems doable and looks like it fits your style. Then print-it and stick it on the wall by your desk, or on the mirror in your bathroom, or on the fridge, somewhere where you will see it, often. Maybe put a highlighter on a string next to it so you can mark your progress.

You might then pop over to Google Maps and map out some routes that you could use for training runs, ones that are close to home, or work, or both. You could also search for any group runs that you could join to liven up your training.

Next, ask the Google-gods for one more favor... links to some local 5K races. Try searching for "5K" and the name of your city and state. Look for a 5K that's roughly the same number of weeks out as your training plan is long. When in doubt, give yourself an extra week or two of training. If you can’t find a 5K, you may be in Antarctica. If you don’t think you’re in Antarctica, drop me a note and I’ll help you find some races. Eventually, you’ll find one.

When you do find one, sign-up.

Don’t wait, do it now. Procrastination is the devils waiting room.

Wait... that didn't make sense. Regardless, putting off any steps in your plan just put you behind and give you an excuse to feel sorry for yourself and maybe quit. Every day you should do something, anything, that moves you closer to your goal.

Sign-up. Now! I mean it! Put your money on the virtual barrelhead.

Good. Now, wait patiently for you confirmation email. Should only take a minute or two... refresh... Hey, look, J.Crew is having a sale!... sorry... refresh... ah, there it is. You're in! Write the date of your race at the bottom of your training program. Oh come on, that's your goal, not your weight... write it big, and in red.

Next go get some shoes, if you don’t have any. Go to a running store. No back talk. A real running store.

Finally, deep breath... aaaaaannnnd... start your training.

Your plan is your path from where you are to where you want to be. Own it, respect it, make it a priority, and stick to it.

The toughest part of any run is the first step. The toughest part of anything worthwhile is summoning up the courage to start. At least with a plan, you'll know you're going in the right direction.

More soon... until next time, take a few minutes and write out your plan. Remember, it doesn't have to be about running. If you have insight, or if you're stuck, head to the comment section.

Good running,
Doug

Going long - Don't set stupid goals

2011-01-09T19:20:00.000-08:00

Ok, running every day, for a year, isn't for everyone. Really, it isn't for 99.999387% of everyone. Give or take.

But committing to longterm fitness goals is a good idea, for just about everyone. Everybody knows that. And pretty much everybody's made some sort of promise to themselves to get into better shape at one time or another.

And how many of us realize those goals? How many of us keep those promises for even a month?

Yeah, not many.

Why? What's the problem? Are we stupid? Of course we aren't. Everyone else might be, but DR365 readers are above average intelligence. It's a fact. Says so right here on the internet.

Are we lazy? No, I don't think so. We're all scurrying around doing all kinds of stuff. We aren't popping bonbons on the chaise-lounge all day. Not every day.

Are we drunks? Maybe a couple are, but that doesn't explain the rest of us.

I think that we are sincere when we make our goals. We really do intend to see them through. Or at least we really want to see them through.

We just have no idea how to turn them into reality. We don't know how to plan, or how to stick to the plan. Or what to do when the plan hits the fan.

If there's anything I got out of last year, aside from frostbite, some wicked chafing, and stern looks from fountain security guards, it's a pile of hints for sticking to your long term fitness goals.

As a service to you above average looking readers who have suffered through a year of my nonsense, over the next few days I'm gonna share what I learned last year about sticking to goals, in the form of hints, perhaps in the popular numerical list form. I could hurl it all into one post, I suppose, but no one likes long-ass blog posts.

As I work through this stuff, I'm going to talk about goals in terms of running, because it's easy to type, and it is a running blog, but you can apply these hints to just about any type of goal... really.

Here, the first one's free. Keeps 'em coming back for more...:

1) Don’t set stupid goals.

The best way to set yourself up for failure is to define a goal that you can’t achieve. The second best way is to set a goal that involves you doing something you hate doing.

Late in 2009 my aspiration was to not feel like crap. I felt like crap, mentally, physically, emotionally, and I didn't want to feel like crap any more. "I want to feel less like crap." is not a goal. But it was something I wanted to strive for.

While out on a run, I was thinking about how little I'd been running the last couple years, and how stupid that was because running always made me feel good, about a lot of things, and I enjoyed it. I was also thinking about how I'd spent the last two years putting what I wanted, what I needed, what was good for me, at such a low priority, that it never got done. I was doing for everyone but me.

I knew that the first step toward a less crappy feeling place was breaking that habit of putting myself last. I needed to make a habit of doing something for myself, every day. I know at that moment that I would run every day in 2010. And that's how my goal was born. That easy.

The best goals are first and foremost tied to something you strive for, and something you enjoy, or at least can have fun while doing.

For example, you may want to get into better shape. “I want to develop a long term fitness plan” is not a goal, however, at least not a good one. It’s an aspiration, and a good one. But it’s too big to be a goal.

I’m don’t want to get all Project Mangery, but I am going to steal one of their nerdy principles...Set a SMART goals.

Your goals should be Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, Time-bound. S.M.A.R.T. Get it? Those Project Managers, their a clever bunch.

Let’s break these down...

“I want to get into better shape.” is not specific.
"I want to start running." is not specific.
"I want to run in a 5K race." is specific.

It's also measurable. Your goal needs to be a line in the sand. This side, you’ve met your goal, that side, you haven’t. Either you run the race, or you don't.

Your goal needs to be something attainable, something realistic. I would love to learn to fly this year. Not gonna happen, no matter how hard I flap my arms. I also couldn't run 5 miles a day every day for a year. Maybe 1 mile, but not 5. If you haven’t been running, don’t think you’re going to qualify for the Boston Marathon this year.

Set a goal that is within reach, but it does need to be a little bit of a reach. It needs to be something that you’ll be proud of when you accomplish it. It does not need to be something that any one else will be impressed with, but you need to be proud of it.

Going from not running to entering and running a 5K is attainable, and it is a great accomplishment. It takes dedication, endurance, and strong character.

Relevant goals, if you achieve them, move you closer to where you want to be. If your long term goal is to be more physically fit, then don’t set a goal to read all of the Harry Potter books.

Running a 5K race is relevant. So far, so good.

Good goals are time-bound. Oops. Ok, we need to give ourselves a time limit, otherwise we’ll never get there. "I want to run a 5-K race before June 30th." is time-bound.

It’s also a SMART goal.

But no matter how SMART your goal is, if the process of attaining it isn't fun, or enriching, or rewarding, or at least makes you feel good, then don't bother. You might need to get a little creative, but try to pick a goal that you'll enjoy reaching. Goal setting is about finding a better version of you, not punishment.

Some of you may think running is punishment. It can be. But it can also be very fun, and very enriching, and it always makes me feel better. If you've already decided it's going to suck, you're right, it will. If you take the attitude that running is going to be fun, you'll find ways to make it fun.

Crap. Look how long this post is. You probably need to get back to work, right? Sorry.

More soon, and I’ll try to keep it brief... briefer... brief. In the meantime, check your goals to see if they’re SMART, too.

Good running,
Doug

Finger-warming genius

2011-01-07T10:21:00.000-08:00

Ever see a product that perfectly meets one of your quirky needs that you thought only you cared about? I have. Just now.

The quirky need is the ability to use my iPhone when I'm out on a run, to take a picture, answer a call, respond to a text, use the new Photon Torpedo app to destroy a treadmill.

Ok, not that quirky, but try it in the winter. Invariably I end up pulling my glove off, or at least freeing a thumb, with my teeth.

Let me tell you something... sweaty running gloves don't taste very good.

If I'm out snapping pictures for a winter photo safari, it's cumbersome, at best.

But today, as I was clicking through one of the nerdy blogs I follow... conductive-fabric miracle...

(Angels sing.) (Clouds part.) (Beam of light shines down from the sky onto...)

Agloves: Touch Screen Gloves for cold weather use.

Brilliant! This is what that lump of goo between our ears is supposed to me doing... applying "lightweight, soft, warm, stretchy and slightly fuzzy" technology for the betterment of mankind.

They must be great gloves. Look at the smile on this girl's face...

Don't ask why she's wearing a bikini and gloves...

just look at the smile, please.

No, I'm not a spokesperson. No, I'm not getting compensated in anyway. I will, however, be ordering a pair for running and a pair for when I'm not running. You may order your own here.

Good running,
Doug

PS - Still not running, yet. Getting close.