Joe Kendrick

We lost one of our own this week, Joe Kendrick.

Joe was a runner.

He was also a member of Back on My Feet, which faithful readers know I am a supporter of and volunteer for. (If you didn't know that, read my BoMF story here.) Back on My Feet uses running as the foundation of a program to help people who have become homeless, and who are often also fighting addiction, to reestablish their lives.

I met Joe a few months ago, just after hearing his "story". Hearing what he'd been through, where he'd come from, and seeing the man he'd become made his warmth and genuine care for everyone he met startling, and wonderful. And knowing the amazing man that had emerged from that layer of homelessness and addiction, I shutter to think of how he might have died had he not been given a chance to shed that unnatural layer.

As sad as it is to lose a good person, it warms my heart to know that Joe died in his sleep, naturally, clean, sober, in a bed, his head on a pillow, in his own apartment.

He also died knowing that he had friends who cared deeply for him, loved him, and who were inspired by him.

I encourage you to read more about Joe here.

I also encourage you to consider a donation to Back on My Feet so that they can continue to help good men like Joe... well... I guess to help them get back on their feet.

Good running,

Doug

Treadmill inventor dies

His name was William Staub. He was 96.

And he was on one of his abominations, I mean machines, just 2 months before he died.

Familiar readers know how I personally feel about treadmills. (Read it here).  But on my run today, I spent some time reflecting on Mr. Staub's creation, and I decided that it has it's place.

Treadmills are most useful when you are injured, or just starting your running life. At those times, fear of being unable to continue and far from home can keep you from running at all. A treadmill let's you test the waters without leaving the safety of the beach. And for that, we should thank William... though it's actually too late to literally thank him, since he's dead, but you know what I mean.

Where treadmills turn less good is when they become a habitual safe haven. To fully experience being a runner, to get the full benefit, you have to venture outside. You have to experience the world in all its glory and goo. You have to face your fears. And by overcoming your fears, you see what you're really made of.

In fact, I faced a fear, on the very same run... my biggest fear... a snake.

I have an unnatural, innate, unreasonable, uncontrollable fear of snakes. Snakes completely and utterly freak me out. Seriously, I totally lose control. I scream. I run away, all high stepping and kicking my feet. It's hilarious to everyone but me. To me, it is akin to sitting on a live wire in a wet bathing suit.

I saw the little rope of evil half curled at the edge of the trial just as I was passing it, too late to turn around. After 20 seconds of freak-out and hyperventilating, I concluded that the snake was dead, likely vanquished by a valiant eagle, or hawk, or some other bad-ass bird who'd swooped it up, bit off its head, and let the rest fall to the ground as a warning to the other slithering vermin.

Knowing that I'd have to retrace this bit of trail on my return to the office, and that seeing the snake again, even knowing it was dead, would send me into another fit, I moved a stick across the trail 10 yards or so up trail from the corpse so I'd have some warning and I'd know to look for it.

Surviving my greatest fear, I went about my run, feeling more than a little proud of myself. When I'd made the turn back and returned to what looked like that stretch near the snake, I kept an eye out for the stick, sure it was just around the next corner, or the next, or the next.

When the stick didn't appear, a new fear crept in... someone must have come in behind me and moved the stick! Now I was looking franticly for the stick AND the dead snake. The anxiety soared. I wanted to run fast to out run the fear and to just get out of the woods, but I didn't dare run fast toward the snake.

After a couple hundred yards that seemed like 2 miles, I saw the stick, right where I'd left it, straddling the trail, sounding its silent alarm of dead but still startling ickiness ahead. I took a deep breath, moved to the far side of the trail, kept one eye on the trail (the last thing I wanted to do was trip and fall and land face-to-face with a dead snake) and one eye one the sna- "Holy F'in Mother of Reptilian Resurrection! It's gone!!"

It had moved. The dead snake wasn't dead. In an instant I was rocketing out of the woods, scanning left right left right for the slithering evil, and trying to keep at bay the realization that just a few minutes before I'd run by a live snake. It was a blur of adrenaline and emotion and sweat pouring down my face.

Obviously, I survived. Of course I survived. The snake didn't rattle. It didn't strike out at me. It didn't even move when I saw it. Hell, I thought it was dead! It had no interest in me. I ran right by it on the way out. I've probably run right by it a dozen times this summer, and a dozen others deeper into the woods. And I've lived to tell the tale. As I cooled off, I shook my head, laughing at myself the way you'd laugh at how scared you'd been just moments ago as you exit a horror movie.

Still, for the next few runs in the woods, I'm sure I'll be looking for that snake. I'll be a little anxious as I'm winding along that brown ribbon in the relative cool of the deep shade. And every time I venture out into those woods, face that fear and survive, I'll know myself, and what I'm capable of, just a bit better.

Treadmills have their place, but outside of that limited usefulness, they are enablers. They support our fears of heat, rain, cold, snow, dirt, distance, hills, stares, laughter, remarks, and snakes. Treadmills are safe. But safe doesn't get your heart pounding. Safe doesn't give you practice controling out-of-control emotions. Safe doesn't test your limits, real or imagined. Safe wants to keep you right where you are.

Challenge yourself. Be suspicious of safe. Step off of the treadmill, literal, figurative, or both, and experience the uncertain excitement of the real world.

Good running,
Doug

Oscar Pistorius: Blade Runner, Olympian

Oscar Pistorius has no legs. Well, no lower legs. Yet, he will be running the 400m in the 2012 Olympics in London.

I am NOT making this up.

Photo from CBCSports

Since he was 11 months old, Oscar's been a double-amputee... right below the knee.

But he's one of us, a runner, thanks to some technology (Flex-Foot Cheetahs by Ossur), and a hell of a lot of courage, hard work, and more courage. He used to prefer rugby to running, only trying track and field to rehab from an injury, but we won't hold that against him.

And now, just last week, he was named to the South African Olympic team. I'm talking about the REAL Olympics, not the Paralympics for people with no legs or nor arms or whatever, though he'll run those too, and I'm guessing collect some nice hardware.

As Oscar's times have fallen, the controversy over his carbon-fiber feet has risen. The IAAF (the grand-poobah of track and field) even ruled him ineligible at first, saying the technology gave him an advantage over flesh and blood and bone.

That is ridiculously retarded.

I'd like to see any member of the IAAF spend 15 minutes enduring the pain and discomfort that amputees face every day with prosthetics. Advantage? Don't be stupid. Oscar doesn't just live with that, but he runs and trains and races like a, well like an Olympian!

You wanna know how to tell if that technology makes people faster? It'll be when able bodied runners lop off their human legs for some carbon-fiber.

I am not kidding.

Athletes at all levels, but especially at the top of their sport, have proven time and again that they will sacrifice their bodies, their future, for a few tenths of a second. They've blood-doped, juiced up on hormones and steroids, even endured sex changes, just to be closer to the top of their sport. If there's evidence that carbon-fiber ankles and feet will get them an Olympic Medal, one of these fools will trade-up and spend their winter rehabbing, relearning to walk, and run, and inventing a story about getting both legs caught in a bear trap.

Photo from BBC

Until that happens, we will cheer, and admire, and marvel at Oscar, the Blade Runner, because... well look at him, he's running the 400m, IN THE OLYMPICS, with artificial legs! Those legs are no advantage. They're just a tool that let him demonstrate his strength, speed, determination, and courage, Amazing!

Oh, and next time you think you can't suffer through a run, think about Oscar Pistorius. That oughta shame you into lacing up.

Good running,
Doug

TechEd 2012

Dear DR365 readers, I've been asked by my benevolent employer to blog about my time at TechEd conference, an annual gathering of geeks, proudly celebrating their geekness and everything Microsoft. Assuming that my post will be screened and edited by several nervous marketing types, I thought I'd post it here in it's unadulterated form. The otherwise adulterated form can be seen here.

And... action!

Greetings from TechEd 2012. I'm your faithful blogger Doug White, Product Manager for Double-Take Availability for Windows and designated conference representative, reporting direct from Day One of the TechExpo, the trade show floor of Microsoft's annual geek-a-palooza.

My goal is to give you an inside look at what it's like to work at a high-class booth at the biggest Microsoft show of the year. For Vision Solutions, this is the biggest event in the history of the Double-Take brand. Not only are we launching Double-Take 6.0, the biggest, baddest, and bestest release in the storied history of Double-Take, but we're also bringing back the awesomeness that is the Double-Take TechEd party, with the new company band, Double-Vision. After a couple years in hibernation, the band is reborn, the product is evolved, and the swagger of Double-Take is back.

But enough hype, let's take a look at TechEd 2012...

It's a beautiful day at the OCCC,

which I think stands for Orlando Conference Center... C-something.

How does one celebrate 20 years of TechEd?

Apparently by standing in line.

Ok, TechEd is just about the best run conference on the planet, but I gotta point out the ludicrousness, or maybe it's "ludacrity", of one reeeealy long line for one station (expo only registrants), while all of the other stations were empty.

After standing in line, I went straight to standing in a semi-circle...

Obligatory pre-show meeting

"White shirts? Check! Black pants? Double-Check!! One, two, three QUALITY LEADS!!!"

The following is not our booth...

IT folks will stand in really long line for the slightest chance to win anything.

This is a fact that some vendors exploit, to the extreme.

Seriously, you're giving a way a Ducati?

Who would ever win a Ducati?

(Thanks, again AvePoint.)

Wow, lunch time already? Sweet! Let's see what they've... oh, my...

Rubber chicken and beef-ish leather. I'll eat the noodles and veggies.

At TechEd, there are so many vendors, it takes a lot to stand out.

Some turn their employees into walking demo stations.

Some go to extremes to draw attention to themselves,

like bringing in jugglers

or if that doesn't work, a guy in a straight jacket on a unicycle.

Meanwhile, more self-assured companies use the opportunity of such a gathering to offer a service to their customers, current and future...

The seats on this bus have been sanitized for your protection by...

Vision Solutions, and Double-Take 6.0...

Keeping TechEd Cootie Free!

Hey look, someone finally found a good use for a Segway

Weeeeeeee!!!! 

The first day of booth duty at TechEd includes, thankfully, an afternoon break. I spent my break poolside...

No poolside beers were harmed in the taking of this photo.

But breaks are for the weak. In no time, it was back to the show floor for the mob that comes with the Microsoft reception, featuring free food and adult beverages.... hence the mob.

See, told ya... mob, and free food, in a big ol' wok.

Look! Hors d'oeuvres!

I did a Mini-Tart shooter, thank you very much.

Did I mention it is the 20th TechEd? Well, it's quite the deal. For the booze-fest, I mean "reception", they wheeled out huge cake, at least 8 feet long. Seriously... look...

Uh, no... my finger's not in the icing...

... much!  

The reception brings out all the geeks, and the longest lines are for... guess...

Food? Nope.

Beer? Nuh-uh.

A 15 second conversation with a booth babe? Wrong again.

No, the longest lines are for autographs... from the authors of a book on Microsoft SQL Server.

I am not making this up.

The line snakes around the corner and down the aisle.

So, it's not surprising that the show floor looks like this...

All guys, far as the eye can see, most with backpacks and untucked shirts

And sometimes you see something you wish you hadn't...

Drawers at half-mast.

The busiest booth, that wasn't dangling shiny objects in the geeks faces, was our booth.

Some of the lucky ones who scored passes to the Double-Take Evolution Experience party.

The rebirth of the band and the party brought many hundreds to see us, and to talk about real-time replication, and to register for the gig. In fact, there were so many, that the party has reached capacity. As popular as past Double-Take parties have been, we've never filled it up on the first night. I suspect Wednesday night will be epic. Sorry for those who will be missing out. Next year, come see us first thing.

After many great conversations with customers, and others just interested in learning more about keeping their data safe, the lights went down, and they kicked us out of the hall.

Before we left, we built a small memorial to the night's effort...

I call it "Tower of crappy beer".

Shuttle bus back to the hotel and down I sat to write my blog post... is what didn't happen.

What did happened was I changed out of my booth duds and crossed the street, with a plan to decompress from a day full of replication chit-chat.

My girlfriend and I, always looking out for an unusually good time, decided on a whim to take the mostly hidden elevator to BB King's blues bar. I loves me a good blues bar.

Turned out that the mostly hidden elevator is so well hidden that the staff of BB King's forgot to exclude it from entry with one of those velvet ropes. Before we knew it, we'd crashed a private party. So, of course, we excused ourselves and made for the exit.

No we didn't. We helped ourselves to some delicious BBQ ribs, fried chicken, and tequila.

Cheers! 

And thank you, Schneider Electric!

And on the way back to the hotel, just for good measure...

I defiled the fountain in Orlando Pointe*

For those at TechEd 2012, stop by booth 2223 and say "Yo!" For those playing along at home, sorry you're not here. Start building your rationalizations, I mean business case, for attending TechEd 2013.

Geek on!
Doug

*For those unfamiliar, I have a thing for getting into fountains. It's harmless fun.

Review: Tap 'N' Run

I'm not sure I can explain the corrolation between runners and beer, but the evidence is there.

From the great tradition of Hash House Harriers ("a drinking club with a running problem"), to the Brew Mile races here in Indy and Louisville, to club runs that start and end the local pub, to coolers at the end of the trail for post-run carb replenishment, runners appear to have an above average taste for beer... after the run.

But what about during the run?

Certainly not, right? Who would want to drink beer in the middle of a run?

Oh, I don't know... me! And my running buddy Scott. And 2500 other people with questionable decision making skills.

That was what drew all of us to the city's first Tap 'N' Run, a 4K race that includes 4 beer stops. I am not making this up.

This is NOT a water stop.

You chug a beer before you cross the starting line. Then, roughly every kilometer (0.6-ish miles) there's another beer stop. Enter the Beer Chug zone, drink your beer, get back to running. The chugs are 4 oz, which is manageable, and it's good beer from Goose Island, which is critical since the chugs get kinda warm sitting in the sun. If you don't cheat, you'll have consumed a pint of craft beer during the run. And bonus, you'll also have burned off the calories from said beer, all in 4K.

1K Beer Chug station

So that's the run. Crazy, right? You don't know the half of it.

There's also a mustache contest that spawned dozens of 70's porn-star shaves. There's a short-shorts contest that produced way too many guys wearing way too revealing Daisy Duke cut-offs. And well over half of the runners were in costume. And we're talking about plain old Halloween recycling, there were beer-centric costumes...

We're all here for the beer, sister.

Like a carrot dangled in front of a mule,

a Bud kept this girl moving forward

Lederhosen? This is a beer run, not a beer garden!

and some rather adult-themed puns...

I wouldn't recommend rubbing Aladdin's lamp.

and some that were just wrong....

American Gladiators Lives!

But why?

and these two handsome bastards who went meta-costume, masquerading as guys too cool to dress up.

 
The costumes, the short distance, the absurdity or beer stops, and the 5:00pm start in Broadripple which provides ample opportunity for pre-race liquid carbo-loading, made for a festival type atmosphere.

Mass toast before the starting chug.

The course? Pretty boring. The jaw-dropping day-of cost of $46 was bordering on extortion. T-shirt isn't horrible. And the medal doubles as a bottle opener. Yes, you get a medal... for a 4K... I assume it's meant to be ironic.

Best fill-in-the-blank I saw was

"Beer makes me smrt."

Scott and I savored the event, meaning we wee slow. More jogged than ran. We did, though, pass dozens of our fellow "competitors" in the beer zones. Apparently the faster runners were less skilled chuggers. We proclaimed ourselves the unofficial winners.

Victory goes to those who are audacious enough to claim it.

The good folks at Jam Active have put on these hilarious, and fairly ridiculous, and totally fun events in several cities. If they come to your town, and you don't mind the pricey entry fee for a 4K, and you're pretty sure you can stomach a pint during a run without booting it, I highly recommend jumping into a Tap 'N' Run.

Good running,
Doug

Pulling out early

Nothing prepares you for a Half-Marathon like 9 flights, 4 hotel rooms, conference room chairs, bad food, restless sleep, jet lag, 25 minutes to empty and refill your suitcase, and a 2.5 hour drive to yet another hotel room.

Wait... did I say half-marathon? I meant half-marathon epic failure.

Yep, I pulled a DNF (Did Not Finish) last weekend.

Worse... I pulled a rare DNMITM2 (Did Not Make It To Mile 2).

I'd entered Sunburst 1/2 marathon in South Bend weeks ago, while still riding my Big Sur high, with the best intentions. Ok, maybe not the best intentions. The best intentions would be to train hard and prepare well for the race. The intention I had was to score a medal. That's more like a mediocre intention.

What I hadn't intended was to have two solid weeks of West Coast business travel leading up to the race.

Still, I gave it a go.

I stretched. I moaned. I stretched some more. I made my way to the start and took off at the gun, feeling optimistic. Well, I kept telling myself I was feeling optimistic. Deep down, I don't think I believed myself.

The easiest mile of any distance race is the first mile. If you're struggling that first mile, you can't expect it to get any better. You can hope, but it's just not going to happen. For me, the first mile was a tale of ever tightening hips and lower back. All of that well-meaning stretching was being undone. Rapidly. Then, the course turned away from downtown. From that point, every step took me further from the start, and my car. It was decision time, and the only reasonable decision was to step off the course. I'd gone 1.6 miles.

I jogged back to the start and, miraculously, found the bag I'd left at gear check, not yet tossed into whatever van was going to take it to the finish. That little bag held my wallet and my phone, which itself held directions to the hotel.

By the time I walked the two blocks to my car, I'd already picked up a slight limp, my right hip completely stiffened up. After 3 miles of running, I was in worse shape than I was after my marathon.

Every DNF sucks... wasted money, wasted time, general self-loathing. I hated that I couldn't finish, even though I knew that if I'd continued, I'd surely have wound up injured. Making a tough choice is rarely easy, even when you know it's the right choice. Choosing to quit needs to be a very tough choice, else it becomes too easy to throw in the towel at the first hint of self-doubt. You've gotta be tough, but, you gotta be smart, and if quitting is the right thing to do, you can't let your ego, or insatiable taste for medals, cause you to make a stupid decision.

I'll take my next race more seriously.

Ok, my next race will the the Tap N Run, which is by definition not to be taken seriously. But the one after that, totally serious.

And, I will stretch more between flights. Promise.

The moderately bright spot in this tale is that the medal that I coveted, and didn't earn, turned out to be pretty lame.

Good running,
Doug

Happy Running Day

Today's National Running Day.

Go out and celebrate with a big steak!

Kidding. Enjoy your run today and be glad you have running in your life.

Good running,
Doug

PS - I run because it reminds me I'm alive. Why do you run?