Oops! I'm Getting Older!!

"If you want to be functional at 80, you better pay attention at 40" - Lew Hollander, Ironman

How do you notice you are getting older?

I must say that most folks seem surprised when I tell them how old I am. That's always a nice compliment. If it wasn't for the dang ankles acting like they were 100, it wouldn't be bad at all. Maybe it's because I'm treating patients all day long that are quite a bit younger than me and they're complete train wrecks. It's hard to do Physical Therapy on a lot of these people, not because of their Total Knees or Rotator Cuff Repairs, but because they have no connection with exercise at all. Their muscles were deconditioned before they ever had the problem that brought them to the Doc in the first place. And believe me, they have no concept that their deconditioned body MAY be the reason they broke down. UGH...another blog!

But what about me? I sometimes notice this increasing creakiness of my body and aches and pains mysteriously appear and just as mysteriously disappear. You go for a fairly standard run, everything is OK and then sometime afterwards there is a pain in your foot or leg or back or little finger. How did that happen? You have no idea as there was no warning on the run and nothing unusual to link it to. It is difficult to know if it is a minor inconvenience or something more serious. The rule is to listen to your body but as I get older I increasingly find I haven’t a clue as to what my body is saying. It’s as if it has started talking in a different dialect.

In general, recovery takes longer so you have to be more flexible in your scheduling. I used to run 6-7 times a week and put in some hefty miles. Then, I gradually cut back the days to five, but still looked forward to the long weekend runs. These days it is down to 4 days a week - usually Tues/Thurs/Sat/Sun. I just can't seem to give up those back-to-back Sat/Sun runs. Occasionally, I'll throw in an extra Wednesday run just for kicks (mainly when I have a real crappy Tuesday run). So now, I find that it is not that you necessarily cut back more on the number of your sessions but that you must pay attention to how you feel and adapt your session accordingly. Some weekday mornings, I'll wake up at 4;30 and think "It ain't gonna happen today", but I lace my shoes and start rolling down the road. I often heard a piece of advice that said you should run one mile to warm up and then decide how hard or long the session should be. Well, my early morning runs are short to begin with, so as soon as I roll down the road behind my house in 30 seconds, I'm pretty much committed. Now, there are some days that you'd think it was the first time I put on running shoes, but unless I'm "ouch-hurting", I'll do the whole 45-50 minutes. The young me would say if you have a plan, do it regardless, but the present me is a little more flexible in the easiness of the run, or even having to take an occasional stroll (run/walk) if the legs ain't chuggin'.

But having to adapt your schedule is the same at every stage of your life: studying, working, socializing, having kids, etc. Adapting your schedule affects the training of everybody apart from professional athletes. So adapting for age is nothing special. Neither is adapting to your level of performance as speed becomes harder. Whatever your age or level of fitness you are always pushing against your own limitations. Those limitations might expand with increasing fitness or contract but you run according to your capabilities at the time. Aging makes no difference to your perception of effort regardless of the actual pace, distance or any other parameter you set. "Fast, hard, and pushing it" might be replaced with "slow, easy, and holding on", but if you can finish your run with SOME sense of accomplishment (Sometimes I think my new mantra is "At least I got out there") then slow and steady is still upwards.

Because of the damned new technology, I know my pace every run seeing how fast slow I run - I can now see that my internal judgment of how fast I run at different levels of effort is, to put it mildly, delusional optimistic. And I know my morning run is 4.1 miles EVERY time. But I'm not trying to go faster each time. And 4.1 miles is my morning limit so I can get to work. I don't think of age. I love to run. I connect with the the sun. the dark, the trails, my friends. I would love to run faster...I would love to run longer...but most of all, I would love to run smooth all of the time, and I like to do it for a long, long time. I don't want my runs to fight me. So, I adapt and love it when things go my way (don't we all?).

I ran in High School and believe me, it wasn't my favorite thing - I gave it up for 13 years. Then I laced up a pair of old Pumas and ran 2 miles around the UAB Track. Couldn't walk the next morning, swore I'd never run THAT far again, and a relationship was forged. My running has gone through many phases and modifications, but it all comes down to right foot...left foot...repeat. I may be older than I was yesterday, but I'm younger than I'll be tomorrow, so as long as I can put one foot in front of the other, I'll see you on the roads - AL

"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

The Bare Truth

 “When I went to Catholic high school in Philadelphia, we just had one coach for football and basketball. He took all of us who turned out and had us run through a forest. The ones who ran into the trees were on the football team.”- George Raveling, Basketball Coach


I read a lot of running magazines, and because I like to read (or at least look at) every page, I get way behind and have this stack that is a perpetual pile of running stuff. Well, I usually quickly and blindly flip through anything that has to do with speed, hills, fartlek, intervals...well, you get the idea. I just read about long and slow stuff because...well, you again get the idea. So, here I am the other day going through an older issue of Trail Runner mag when I come across this article that I was sure was an April Fool's joke. It was titled "Bare Buns...is nude running in your future?".Ok, #1) we're talking TRAIL running here, and #2) self-explanatory!!!! I mean, this is not a good mental image (No, there are no pictures in the linked article, pervert...at least not one you can blow up suitably be offended by). But, the thought of running in your birthday suit through sawbriars is not a pretty image. Well, the article wasn't talking about speed work (though High School humor makes "fartlek" come to mind!), so I read the article. I was amazed by the number of nude races and (get this) nude running clubs around the country. I mean, I'm not an Amish Monk who lives in a cave and reads by candlelight, but I was amazed that this stuff is running rampant around the country.There's even a Butts-a-Runnin'-Enterprises Running Series! OK, and I'm not kidding about this - the Events Director is named Gary Butts!!!! I wonder what the Age-Group trophies look like. Surely, they won't get the male and female awards mixed up. And please, no pictures of the Grand masters winners.

 I personally have some questions about naked running. For example, how do you... I mean... wouldn’t your... you know... hmm, I’m not quite sure how to ask that one. Does the word "bouncing" come to mind to anybody but me? An easier question perhaps - can you wear running shoes? Where do you carry your keys? Your Gu? What do you pin your bib number to?? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m trying to have this blog be a PG-13 kid friendly blog, but we might have crossed that line already. Gives a whole new meaning to the finish sprint being called "balls-to-the-wall". And this all began with me reading a Trail Running Magazine! When I'm cruising down the trail, I'm afraid a snake may bite me on the leg. I wouldn't go within a mile of a trail if I had to worry about biting me on...you know!!!



Reminds me of an old joke: Ken and Al are in the woods. Ken has to relieve himself next to a tree. While he's doing this, a snake bites him on the end of his manliness:
Ken: Call a doctor. Find out what to do
AL: Hello Doc, my friend was bit by a snake. What should I do?

Doctor: You have to suck the poison out.

Ken: What did the Doctor say?

AL: He said you're gonna die!



Then I saw one sort of related story on the Internet (so it has to be true):

Ever smash your finger while closing a door? It's that pain that you have a microsecond to know what has just happened and the pain that is about to shoot like hot electricity through your whole body. Well my friends, the excruciating pain of a smashed finger is small potatoes compared to the pain suffered by a 73 year old nudist in Florida.



While "Mr. Destiny With Pain" was staying at the RV campground section of the Cypress Cove Nudist Resort near Orlando Florida, the sun worshiper’s slip up almost cost him his junk privates. After backing his small camper into its parking spot at the resort, he and his wife were gathering some things out of the back seats of their car. The man had his arms full and attempted to close the car door by shutting it with his rear end. Ok, there is no way I can begin to describe what happened next, but it has to do with Mr. Destiny swinging his back-end and therefore counter-swinging his front-end. What got caught was not his finger! Just writing this makes me cringe...and I know what I was about to write. I'll bet every male who reads had to sit down and take a deep breath. I'm sure somebody in the ER said "Now, there's something you don't see everyday!". The quote of the year was from our poor victim, "As soon as I shut the door I knew I had messed up in a big way". No kidding Stumpy!! 



OK, I think we've strayed from running topics enough for this week. See what happens when I try to catch up on my reading? No matter what the temperature is, I'll be fully clothed and I'll see you all on the roads - AL






"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

My Return To Ultrarunning

"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you're doomed if you don't try" - Beverly Sills


I ran my first ultramarathon back in '81 (no, not 1881) when I went to Leland, Mississippi and ran in the 1st annual Mississippi 50 Mile Run. Wasn't sure what I was doing and for sure didn't know why, except that two years removed from running my first marathon, I wanted to try a little longer. It was 36 loops around a park with two bridge crossings. Absurd as that sounds, following that race, I was hooked on long distance, but there wasn't much of those crazy-ass races around back then. Two months later, I ran in the 3rd annual Strolling Jim 40 Mile Run in Wartrace, Tennessee (this past weekend, they ran the 34th edition!). Throughout the next decade and a half, I ran road ultras, and it wasn't until 1997 that I ran my first trail ultra...a 50k in California. I did 50 miles, 100 miles, 12 Hour Runs, 24 Hour Runs, plus the dozens of marathons that I did mostly as a coach for TNT.

As has been too-well documented in this blog, my ankles started to rebel in the mid-aughts and in 2007, I ran my last Boston, and also ran my last ultramarathon. I was convinced I might never run another marathon under 5 hours (I have a PR of 3:03) or an ultra of any length again. Pretty hard slap to the back of the noggin for a guy who just LOVES to run long distance. Little things that I did for the ankles helped very slowly; chugging along like a truck trying to start on a cold morning. The storm clouds began to break a little and I began to run a little longer, but still doing less than 30 miles per week and all on road. The biggest jump that pushed me forward, unequivocally, has been buying a pair of Hoka One One shoes about 8-9 months ago and running in them exclusively. They have saved my running (slow as it is), to where each step is not a venture into discomfort that causes me to limp along. Maybe in a future blog, I'll talk more about Hokas, but, in February, because of them, I could do the Mercedes Marathon at a pace that would have gotten me under 5 hours (though other non-running circumstances put a dent in that and I finished in 5:19).


We have an annual 50k here at Oak Mountain in Birmingham in March that is quite technical. I've done this race 7 times in the past...as a matter of fact, the OM50 was my last ultra back in '07, and I got some wild-hair idea I might be able to run it this year. So, I delved into the training, but once I hit the tough (not toughest) parts of the trail, I crashed like a raw egg hitting the floor. I was sure that was the do-or-die test and I was "all-in" on the die side. The ankles, Hokas or not, could not handle the roots, ruts, rocks, or hills that the OM trails threw at me. But, like everybody who has a baby or runs a long distance event, you have no memory, and I saw this entry for the Run For Kids Challenge 50k to be run in May. It was also at Oak Mountain, but on what me and my good buddy, Moha, call the "Sissy Trail". It is a 3.4 mile trail around OM Lake that we had run often. No killer hills, no creek crossings, no downed trees to go over or under. So, on a silver platter, here was handed to me 9+ loops on the semi-flat sissy trail that would lure me back to ultras (sissy or not, 31 miles is a long way!). So, we trained, running multiple laps, up to 20 miles, with varying degrees of feeling not-too-bad to holy-crap-I've-got-to-be-out-of-my-aging-mind. But, one week before the race, I reluctantly sent in my entry. I must say that through my many years of doing long distance runs, planning got to be fairly routine, but not this time. I planned more meticulously for this race than I can remember. (If you want to read about exactly the type of planning I did and how the race panned out from a run/walk/nutrition/heat adaptation/clothing, etc point of view, I've gone into more detail in my other blog, TRAINING WITH AL, so when you finish this, swing on over to there).

The goal I set for this race was very conservative, even too conservative for me, but what I told myself was an hour per lap, so I was thinking 10 hours if I was purely pedestrian, and between 9-10 hours as a realistic goal. Sub-9 was that A,#1 goal that would only happen if all went better than even I expected. Everything, of course, depended on how my "I-wonder-how-we'll-let-Al-run-today" ankles performed. Race day dawned with a forecast of close to 90 degrees, but I never felt anxious about it - control what you can and I felt I had prepared. Apparently, I had planned well because the laps went by without any ankle pain (sure, there was some soreness, but PAIN was the lightning bolt to avoid). The course was one that could be broken up very easily (after all, it was only 3+ miles long!) and the familiarity of each lap made the run feel more like it was pulling me instead of me pushing it behind me. I remember reading recently an article by Scott Jurek how he talked about running trails picturing himself like water in a stream bed just flowing along. That's how I felt much of the time and it's a feeling I haven't felt in a long, long time.

I ran basically alone, except for one lap with my good friend Ken, and one lap with Moha when his back was hurting. That allowed to me to just focus in the mile I was in. I knew from the 15 mile point that things were in my favor and I would probably have a good run. When I finished in 7:52, I felt like I had a great weight lifted - I was an ultrarunner again. I was an hour ahead of my A#1 goal and never felt like I was pushing into the danger zone. I had surpassed all my goals and I still felt good (as in still standing). I had no misgivings that this was an easy course. No, this was a 50k, no bones about it! And my fear of never doing a run like this again was dashed in the dirt.


I don't know what the future holds, but I got this one chance to put it together and see if I could do the distance with a fairly good result, and it worked. That's all I wanted, that one chance again and run with it. I will continue to work on these bad wheels I've got because I want to run down more trails, through more woods, around more lakes. I'm not ready to hang up these Hokas yet.


As much as I love to write, I find it very difficult to accurately put into words what this race meant to me. I have felt like my running has sorta fell off the Continental shelf the last few years - running competitively one day in marathons and longer, and suddenly stinking it up in just my daily short jogs. This wasn't exactly Ted Williams hitting a home run in his last at bat kind of moment, but it was my moment, and I'll sure take it. Like I say to my trainees after they run their first marathon..."Nobody can ever take it away from you".


OK, new mindset, same body. Another finish line, same legs. Don't you just love to run? I'll see you on the roads - AL


PS - Don't forget to read the particulars of training and running the Run For Kids 50k at TRAINING WITH AL




"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

Good Luck

"Luck is the residue of design." Branch Rickey, former owner of the Brooklyn Dodger baseball team


What do you say when a friend (or foe) is going off to run a race somewhere, or even when we're all just standing at the starting line? We say "GOOD LUCK". What do we mean by that? Are we so insecure in their preparation that we believe luck better be intertwined in this race to produce a successful ending? Of course we don't, but, as long distance runners, we know that there always has to be some luck involved or the whole show can come crashing down.

The transition between training and a successful race is, at best, 95% hard work, and 5% luck, but more likely in the 75/25 range. The same is true in most of our areas of our lives - a promotion, catching fish, getting to the dentist on time, or just about anything. We put in the work at our job for when a promotion is deserved, or we study where the doggone fish are gonna be and what lures are best, or we know the best routes to drive to the dentist. But, there better be some luck involved for that job opening to occur, the fish to be where you expect them, or the traffic lights to be synchronized to deliver your mouth to Dr. Pain (nothing personal Todd!).

The problem is that many people rely on the luck and don't do all the hard work. I see this all the time in my PT clinic...folks have surgery, the Doc says "See ya, go to therapy" and the patient thinks they can do 10% of what I tell them and miracles will happen.


You train at 11 minute miles and expect to run 8 minute miles in the race. Or you don't run longer than 10 miles in training, and you expect to keep an even pace in a marathon. That's not luck, it's stupid extremely faulty thinking. Hard work is putting in the 8 minute miles in training, and luck is having perfect weather for the race. Hard work is hitting the trails for frequent long runs in training, and luck is not stepping in a hole and twisting your damn ankle (my ankle is a damn ankle - yours may not be a damn ankle). As the saying goes, "Don't worry about the things you can't control" - that's where luck will smile upon you (sunny skies and no holes) or slap you down (30 MPH headwinds and a trail that looks like the moon).


Hard work is having prepared yourself to the best of your ability. How many of us can honestly say we haven't gone into a race and thought to ourselves "I'm going to try to do this on memory". That is PRAYING for luck. Praying for it usually doesn't work. Hard work is having spent the last 12 weeks doing long runs, tempo runs, hill repeats, and course specificity training and luck is showing up on raceday with a 20 MPH tailwind (Boston '11).


I wish there were a secret store of silver bullets: one for the weather, one for the course, one for that mysterious "Where did that come from?"People ask me all the time what is the secret bullet, pearl, nugget of wisdom to keep doing long endurance. There isn't one. There is no secret store. It's just hard work, and a little bit of luck.


Tomorrow, despite what I have just written, I will be looking for all the luck I can muster up as I run my first ultra in 5 years - the Run For Kids 50k at Oak Mt here in Birmingham. I am understandably nervous about doing this, more about how my ill-natured ankle will absorb the toll of 31 miles on the trail than I am about the rest of the adventure. I've tried to put past performances in the memory vault and approach this purely as the mental challenge of an experienced ultrarunner on how is the best way to finish. I think I've put in the miles that my ankle-knack will allow, though it's way below what I would suggest to anybody asking advice on training. My running will be slow, and I will try my darndest to adhere to a run/walk approach. I think my plan is solid with my on-the-trail nutrition, including the hydration. I know from experience that you can't allow yourself to get behind early.


As far as "luck" goes, I can't really think of anything that HAS to happen that's out of my control for me to do this. The weather is hot...temp near 90 with a heat index about 100...but I always feel that weather is going to affect shorter distance (faster) runners, than it will experienced ultrarunners who have learned (through mistakes) how to cope...RUN SMART is one of my mantras. Although I won't rely on luck, it's ok if any of you want to send some Good Luck my way. I'll appreciate the vibes.


Whatever's in store tomorrow, I'll keep smiling, and for sure, I'll see you on the roads - AL




"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

The Wheels On The Bus Go 'Round and 'Round...

"Now is the oldest you've ever been, and the youngest you'll ever be again" - Greg LeMond, USA Tour de France multiple time winner.
 Bear with me for a little bit. As you know, I am a big baseball fan. Not fanatical...I just enjoy it. If the Red Sox lose, I grumble. If they lose to the Yankees, I'll swear grumble a little louder and "we" (as in "we beat them") becomes "they" (as in "they stink"). And if they blow a 9-0 lead to the Yankees and lose (as they did last Saturday), then "they..." becomes "that" (as in "My God, that team is pathetic!"). But, I never get to the I'm-going-to-jump-off-the-roof depressed - I just enjoy the game. Yes, it does help that Sox seem to be righting the ship. Anyway, there is a pitcher on the Colorado Rockies, Jamie Moyer, who showed up in spring training this year and battled his way to make the team, and got a starting role in the rotation. Walk-ons are always a good story, but Jamie Moyer is 49 years old! I mean he's only 3 years younger than the states of Alaska and Hawaii!


When Jamie Moyer started pitching in the big leagues, 263 current ballplayers hadn't even been born yet. That's BORN...not playing ball.


The Colorado Rockies, Moyer's current team, didn't even exist when he broke into the majors.


Jamie Moyer has thrown a shutout in FOUR different decades. I've run marathons in FIVE different decades and when I admit that, I sound ancient, even to myself. In order to throw a shutout, you have to pitch a full 9 innings and in this mamby-pamby age, pitchers are praised if they regularly go 6 innings. They've evolved into position of wussie-arms!


Jamie Moyer has been the oldest player on an opening day MLB roster 6 different times.


Jamie Moyer has pitched to 8.9 percent of all players to ever make a MLB plate appearance since the early 1900's. (Roughly 1,400 of 16,000). If you're interested in that "Six Degrees of Separation" stuff, it takes just 6 players to go from Jamie Moyer in 2012 to Harry Wright, who played for the Boston Red Stockings in 1871!!


In his debut, Jamie Moyer's opposing pitcher was Steve Carlton. Carlton is now 67 years old and was elected to the Hall of Fame EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO!


Moyer got his 268th victory last week despite never cracking 79 miles per hour on any pitch the entire game. Now, even I pitched to one of these radar guns once at Turner Field and I hit 72 MPH. Nearly dislocated my shoulder in the process, but the point is he's throwing creampuffs up there! Smartly directed creampuffs, but creampuffs none-the-less.


So, this blog is RUNNING WITH AL, not baseball musings with Al, so how do I connect this to running? Well, although Moyer is 16 years YOUNGER than me (that's not comforting), I find a connection as I continue to run despite mechanical breakdowns that prevent me from floating down the trails or roads. My "races" can be timed with a sundial! Ice has become my drug of choice. But, you can either cry in your beer or you try to adapt to what you have. I think of where I was 5, 10, 20 years ago and wish the me then was the me now, but that's stupid if you dwell on that. Water goes under the bridge and that's that. So, I go on.


This week, I sent in my entry for the Run For Kids 50k to be run next Saturday. Used to send in my entries 6 months before a race, but it seems harder to jump on the "I'm going to run this race" ship. I haven't done an ultra in 5 years, but in my mind, I'm still an ultrarunner. I've been training on the trail and sometimes I feel pretty doggone good (relatively speaking) and sometimes (like today), let's just say it wasn't a giant confidence builder. The course is easy, the race is local, and I feel confident I can get around the course before the sun goes down - my actual goal is to try to finish before my watch battery goes out (a different type of virtual race partner). As my grandson says...the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round. All I hope for is my wheels go 'round and 'round till someone says STOP!


Me and Jamie will keep going because today is the youngest we'll ever be again. I'll see you on the roads for a long, long time I hope - AL



"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

First Reactions From Boston

"You don't need to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows" - Bob Dylan

So, I'm here I am sitting in the Atlanta airport, waiting for my connection back to Birmingham. It is one day after the Boston Marathon and I am returning from a long weekend visiting my family and grandchildren in Boston, that surprisingly coincided with the Boston Marathon. In my last RWA post, I wrote about my feelings of the Boston Marathon and had no intention of writing about my Patriot's Day, spent standing and cheering on the sideline....but my plans seem to go in another direction often, whether I'm running a race, doing a training run, driving home, or planning dinner, so here are my reactions and observations.

From last Wednesday, the weather forecast gradually increased it's prediction of what it would be on Marathon day from a slightly warm, but acceptable 67 degrees, to a scorching 88. Apparently, the weather service looks at all available data and then pretty much throws a dart at a target that gets larger as you approach T minus 1. The fellows who sit in big chairs and direct the organization of the marathon were afraid of another 2006 Chicago Marathon fiasco in which the race was halted midway through due to the heat and nearly caused mass chaos. They decided two days before the race that anybody who has picked up their bib at the Expo and doesn't start the race, can defer their entry to 2013. They'd have to forfeit their entry fee and pay again next year, but essentially, you have another year to train. Most runners standing at the starting line always have the thought "If I only had another month to get ready...". Well, here's your get-out-of-jail card to have another year to get ready! Of course, most of these runners (except for the 2000 charity runners) are seasoned veterans from miles far off who have invested a lot more than the entry fee, and probably have put in a long training run or two in conditions far worse than moderate heat. But, I'm not going to diss anyone who didn't feel safe doing the run, and I read in the paper that initial indications are that only 457 folks took up the "Too hot to pass up" offer.

I filled a cooler with bottles of ice water and a couple of cloths soaked in the ice and headed up to the course with Michael and Adam (son & grandson). I positioned myself just past the 23 mile mark in Coolidge Corner a little before first female runners came by. Now, I must say that after WALKING less than a mile to this vantage point, I was sweating! It was 79 degrees and was only 11 o'clock...two hours before I expected Ken, my best friend from Alabama. Folks, I hate cold and I love heat, but this was HOT and having run a couple of these runs through hell, I knew I was about to see marathoners as I had never observed.

First came the females - I won't name most names, because I'll get them wrong, and this is not meant to be a race report, but a report of the racers. Two came down the little Beacon Street hill stride by stride, but looking in their eyes I could see they were trying to focus on just themselves...three miles out is way too far to surge, and besides, surging was a strategy long left on Hearrtbreak Hill. About 30 seconds later came female #3 and she looked like she was losing some nuts and bolts in the heat with her head and shoulders bobbing side to side. Being the astute all-knowing veteran marathoner, I declared to my son "She'll be lucky to finish!" She held on for third! The first 15 of the females (and also the males) have just their names on their front bibs and their number on their back bibs. It was interesting to see when the front numbers began coming (the not-so-elites). Some were having good races, while every once in a while came another "name bib" who was not having their best day, or 2nd best day, or even their 15th best day.

Next came the elite men (who started 28 minutes behind the women). Runner #1 was Matebo who had about a 20 second lead on the quickly fading Kisario, who in turn lead Wesley Korir by close to 30 seconds. To me, the first 2 guys were reeling from the heat. Looking at their faces, I felt that they might be thinking the same thing I think about at this point "Oh God, just 3 more miles...hold together, hold together". Of course, they were thinking this 6 minutes per mile faster than I think it. Anyway, Korir looked so steady...not necessarily fast, but in control...sweating like a pig, but in control...two runners in his sights and in control. I made my second prediction..."He's gonna catch them". I wound up 50% in predictions. Korir would win in 2:12, nine minutes behind last year's winning time, but he finished Magna Cum Laude from the school of "Run smart. Run your own race. Run even pace". The Kenyan method of marathoning is to insert some crazy surges during the race to break apart the pack. Today, in hot Boston...At Hot Boston...it was no place to throw in surges and run your body temperature up another notch or two. Korir simply ran his race and said "See you in the parking lot, boys".

Following the leaders came the masses...over 20,000 of them, each with their own stories, and each with their own reactions to the pie in the face Mother Nature had thrown at them. The further back in the pack, the further back their eyes appeared in their sockets. These runners, many turned walkers, had left Plans A, B, & C way back in Newton and now were trying to complete Plan K - just finish this damn race! And finish most of them would. We were three miles from Boylston Street. I handed out some ice and gave two an ice cold rag. I poured a whole bottle of Ice water over one runner and wished I had a truckload more. I've been where they were and knew how much an understanding aid from the crowd means, so if I helped one or two for just a short minute, that was my Boston marathon.

A little behind schedule, but still standing upright came Ken. I don't think I've ever seen him so whipped. But, he was in a good mood because he understands you have cards dealt to you like this and you just finish the game and play your best hand another day. An ice cold drink, an ice cold "Al Bath" and Ken was off towards downtown. Not his best, but he has a Boston Marathon medal around his neck. Good on ya, Ken!

So, they're calling for me to board the flight home (where it's 59 degrees!). Another year of Boston Marathon memories. Not necessarily from the side of the barricades I really want to be on, but I did feel like I was part of the greatest marathon in the world (my opinion of course, but don't even think about debating me on this one).

OK, time to put my seat in the upright position and put my tray table up and locked. Soon, I'll be back in Birmingham where I'll see you on the roads - AL


"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight (Tomorrow)

"At Boston, you're on the biggest stage, under the hottest lights" - Ryan Hall

Dagnabit (real word? fake word? southern word?), I wasn't going to write about the Boston Marathon this week. I mean, if you get me started, I just cannot stop (as my family well knows). Heaven help some of the runners I coach if they dare ask me "Have you ever run Boston?". Holy Crow! They're doomed. I don't reflect on Boston as how I felt in terms of the miles - it's how I felt in Wellsley, the turn at the Fire Station, Heartbreak Hill, Coolidge Corner, and the almost religious experience of "right on Hereford, left on Bolyston".

This weekend, here I am back in Beantown for what feels like another overdue visit with my grandson, Adam, grandaughter, Emma, and my family. Funny how it coincides with the Boston Marathon. Life weaves a strange tapestry sometimes. Once again, I won't see the starting line this Monday, or the finish line for that matter (a major case of the too's - too old, too slow, too rusty), but I plan to hug the sidelines at 23 and give my best "suck it up", "just 3 more miles", or steal Ken's line "nuts and guts, baby, nuts and guts". I PROMISE not to say "lookin' good". Last year, I stood at mile 23 as I saw the leaders motoring by me at a 4:30 per mile pace on their way to a World Record (the heck with those bigwigs who say no WR because Boston is too much downhill or the starting line is too far away from the finish line...yeah, let them line up in Hopkinton and then come up with rules that make sense). Anyway, the top two leaders ran 2:03, almost a full minute below the then WR. Ryan Hall came flying by with his USA singlet on and the crowd was going nuts with "USA, USA, USA", having the race of his life...It was crazy... "Here I was running a 2:04 pace, and I couldn't even SEE the leaders!!". Not long after Hall (ok, relatively speaking...ok, an hour later) came my buddy Ken. He was on his way to a great 3:29, but would have no part of me saying "Pretty good tailwind, huh?". Once again, this year it seems the weather god will take a holiday, for as I write this, the forecast for this Monday is 88 degrees!! Going to be more a test of re-prioritizing ALL your goals.

But, what is it with this Boston thing? Like a rock rolling downhill, marathon running has gotten crazy popular. Everyone and their grandmother seem to be doing it. Used to be just the hardcore runner would even entertain the thought of tackling what was thought of to be the top of the running mountain, and now it has almost become common place to see marathons pop up for this charity or that cause and BOOM! - 10,000 runners line up. A half million finishers a year! And that's great because so many folks are finding out about that person locked up inside them and not only getting off the "Couch of Doom" but throwing that couch in the trash pile.

But if marathon running is the mountain, then Boston is Everest. I've done Boston 5 times and can honestly say there is something very different about being there. Something that gets in your gut and won't let go. Standing at the starting line in Hopkinton is the culmination of a dream for most marathoners, because not only have you survived having run a previous marathon, but you have had to run it well, often an over-your-head effort to just qualify to run Boston. Very few make the Boston qualifying time (a BQ) on their first attempt. It is based on age and for most, it is just out of range. Back in the 90's, when I had completed probably close to 40-50 marathons, I still didn't think I had much desire to go to Boston, but everyone kept asking "Ever been to Boston?" and the answer was no. It was like I was cast to the minor leagues. I wasn't validated as a "real" marathoner. Then one day, running the old Vulcan Marathon in Birmingham in 1993, I surprisingly got under the cursed qualifying time and screamed "I'm going to Boston!".

For many, Boston has become a quest, beginning as a dream, then a goal, then, finally, a reality. Anytime you set limits, you will exclude some folks and that might seem elitist, but I don't think so (of course I realize I'm talking from the "been there" side of the fence). The limits are based on performance, and are set at a point where most, given time and discipline (ah, that doggone training) can reach them. After I ran Boston the first time (199

5), I said I would never go back because the experience was so over and above anything I expected, I felt it would never top that. But, you ask any first timer, or 20th timer, and they will tell you that from the expo, where everyone is wearing a shirt from a different marathon, to Copley Square, where you recieve that most coveted medal, Boston lives up to it's billing. And once you run it, you are infected with the Boston Bug and for most, there is no cure.

The crowd noise is incredible as you go through the 7 different towns from Hopkinton to Boston, getting louder and louder with each town, but it is the last half of the race that defines this marathon above others for me. At about mile 12, just a quarter mile west of Wellsley College, you begin to hear this high pitched squeal that is getting louder as you run. You are entering what is known as the "Scream Tunnel". The girls of Wellsley is all it's cranked up to be. A deafening wall of sound. Imagine about 200 yards of young, excited girls stacked 4-5 deep along the road, screaming their heads off and clanging cowbells. Now, throw is signs of "Kiss me", "Kiss me, I'm a senior", "Kiss me, I'm Mormon", "Just kiss me". And if a women goes by...the noise ratchets up a few hundred decibels...and if a girl wearing a Wellsley shirt comes-a-runnin', Holy crow!! - hold your ears. When you leave the Scream Tunnel, you are whipped from the excitement. Unfortuneatly, you're only halfway to Boston. When you make the right turn at the Newton Fire station to begin the famous humps known as Heartbreak Hill, the bombardment of noise for the last 10 miles is constant. Going up Heartbreak, if you're struggling, someone will jump from the crowd and run along side of you yelling "You can do it! You're almost to the top. Suck it up". Now, from my standpoint, Heartbreak is WAY over-rated. It's actually a series of 4 hump-flat, hump-flat, hump-flat, big hump. It's just that at the end of 16 miles of mostly downhill and flat running, the startch in the legs are a little stale and Heartbreak is wringing out of them whatever is left. Rolling into Boston is a loud, loud, LOUD moment in the race. And what had been a strong spectator turnout up to that point is ratcheted up another notch. Seriously. People and people and people for the entire rest of the race. I remember, the first year I ran, there was a large Billboard near Fenway Park, about a mile from the finish, that read "Welcome to Boston. You earned it!". I love that.

By writing, I could never do justice to the last half mile, but I'll give it a go. Remember, there has been pretty much a continuous deafening cheering for the past 10 miles or so. Then, there is a 50 yard tunnel under Massachucetts Avenue in which no spectators are allowed - the screaming has become silent except for the runner's feet slapping the pavement - it is sureal to say the least. Then, my favorite moment. You exit the tunnel to an incredibly huge wave of spectators and a flood on noise as you make a right turn onto Hereford Street. Two blocks of struggling uphill, and then the most glorious left onto Boylston Street. In plain view, 600 yards ahead, you can see the finish line. In my life, I have never been bombarded by sound the way I was for those last several minutes along Boylston. The crowd is 5-10 deep, screaming their heads off, the sound reverberating off the buildings, and I am almost crying because I'm about to finish The Boston Marathon! God, it's great to be a runner!!

No, I won't be running this year, but I can always close my eyes and not only see the past, but feel it too. Good luck to all the runners and I'll see them, and ofcourse, I'll see you, on the roads - AL


"One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"