The Passing of a Ballplayer, a Friend, a Hero

"Every player should be afforded the opportunity of at least one season with the Chicago Cubs. That's baseball as it should be played - in God's own sunshine. And that's really living" - Alvin Dark, Ballplayer, friend, hero

Hi guys, remember me? Yes, it's been a while since I've sat down and written in RWA, mainly because there's not a whole heck of a lot going on that I think might hold somebody else's interest for longer than 2 seconds. I'm running fairly well. The fabled ankles, though stiff as cement pylons, haven't been too sore, and with our Alabama trails covered with a thick layer of leaves hiding the roots, rocks, and ruts, ol' Al is pretty thankful for that. And I've had no rants lately and I'm sure the world is breathing easier knowing Al will let it spin smoothly for a while more. I have been writing weekly in my other blog, TRAINING WITH AL, about training for the marathon, mostly directed at those in the Birmingham area training for the Mercedes Marathon, being run on February 22, 2015, so check it out if you're training for a full or half marathon and want some basic guidance getting to that finish line based on my thousand years of successes and failures.

One of the things I do just about each evening when I get home from work, is sit down with my tablet and cold beer (or hot coffee, depending on the temperature) and read briefly through Facebook (I have selectively very few "friends", so don't try) about what my running friends are up to. Also, I'll quickly rifle through a couple a hundred posts on Twitter. Most posts are garbage, but I get a kick out of the few that are funny or point you to interesting sites. 

Last Thursday night there was a short post on Twitter (has to less than 140 characters afterall) that read that Alvin Dark had passed away at 92 years old in South Carolina. Alvin Dark was a baseball player of moderate success (was Rookie of the Year in 1948 with the old Boston Braves, and later played with the NY Giants, Cubs, and Phillies. He was an All-Star three times, played in three World Series, and managed 5 teams). Never heard of  his passing mentioned on Sports Center or the news, so I was glad I was looking at Twitter that evening. You see, as a child, I knew Alvin Dark personally. My dad was an automobile dealer in New Jersey back in the early 50's and sold a car to Mr. Dark. A friendship ensued and for a few years, Alvin Dark was my hero...I knew a professional ballplayer! When he left the NY/NJ area, we still stayed in touch for several years. And as an adult, I collected all his baseball cards, not because I was a collector, but only to have them. Let me share some of my memories:

-- He gave me my first real baseball glove. I was about 8 years old and it was one of his just discarded pro gloves (he was a shortstop). On the back of the glove was written "#19". I used that glove throughout High School.

-- When I was around 6 years old, my dad took me to my first pro game. It was at the now-demolished Polo Grounds and I remember it so clearly. We walked out of the dark runway under the stands into the bright sunshine and I clearly remember two things: how green the grass was, and the red on the opposing player's uniforms (the Reds or the Cardinals?). Looking back, I realize any ballgames I saw on TV were in Black & White, so this color thing was crazy exciting. We got to wave to Mr. Dark as he warmed up before the game.

-- In 1961, the Giants had moved to San Francisco and Mr. Dark was now their manager. My dad and I drove down to Philadelphia one night to see them play the Phillies and were going to have dinner with him after the game. Unfortunately, the game went 15 innings and ended in a 3-3 tie because it went past midnight. So, sadly, no dinner. But, I did get to meet Orlando Cepeda and Jose Pagan, two SF stars, after the game in the locker room. 

-- In 1967, I was going to Jr. College in Miami, which happened to be the Spring Training home of the Baltimore Orioles. Mr. Dark was then managing the Kansas City A's, so when they came to Miami, I went down to see the game. I wasn't sure he would remember me (hadn't seen him since that '61 non-dinner). I snuck down to the rail next to the dugout before the game and called for Mr. Dark to come over. I introduced myself and immediately he smiled and recognized me. Surprised the heck out of me. He leaned up against the rail and talked to me for 20 minutes about my dad and what I was doing. I sure felt like somebody.

That was the last time I saw him...47 years ago! And, though it's been so long, his passing hit me. Obviously brought to the surface many pleasant memories. Maybe it's that next piece of childhood that we have to let go of, or realizing how fast time flies, or just realizing how much of life we have filled up...I dunno. I'm glad I was reading Twitter last Thursday or I might have missed it. Mr. Dark's passing is sad to me, but not knowing...that would have been very sad.

I'll see you on the roads - Al

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

Sticks and Stones (and Hills) WILL Hurt Me!!

"She went past me like I was sitting in my bathtub reading a book" - Anita Ortiz commenting on Darcy Africa passing her at 92k of the 100k Miwok Race









When I was a kid growing up in New Jersey about a hundred years ago, I used to wonder what it would be like to be all grown up. My last post dealt with the craziness of being active daily in those younger days and how I wonder if that helped shape the 67 year old body that I carry around now. Here I am, still wanting to get up early in the morning and shake it up with nature for a while. I feel like Sylvester Stallone or Robert DeNiro in "Grudge Match"...going through the same motions, but in slow motion.

I’m really struggling with my race-goal times these days (This is where we insert the Serenity Prayer, especially the part about “…the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.“) Ah, the wisdom part. It’s so damn intangible. Last Saturday, I ran another of the local Southeastern Trail Series Races. This one was the Ridge to Ridge race and consisted of 21+ miles of hilly, rooty, rocky, trail that gradually (from about a mile into it) eats you up. It has about 3100' of elevation, which if you're reading this in Colorado sounds like a flat single track. The worst part is the Yellow/White connector which is a trail that rises 600' over exactly a mile and has suitcase sized Lower-Appalachian-Trail-hardness rocks that don't give any when you trip into them. You do this loop twice and there is no doubt the second time is a real "let's get that heart rate up to maximum" test. As you know, I don't like to write race reports and I won't write one here. I have read some great race reports, but I just don't have the journalistic talent to make mine sound in any way interesting, at least to anyone but me.

But, the gist of this cloud over me is that I am 67 years old, which is not THAT old, but older than I've ever been. The age doesn't bother me, it's the daggum slowness that accompanies it on the road or trail. It's the declining balance that usually makes itself known as I'm trying to navigate a stream by stepping on the well-placed (for anybody else) rocks. Near the end of a long race, you know, that point where you're close enough to realize you might finish this god-forsaken test, but not close enough to say Yahoo yet...actually, I usually don't say yahoo until I'm directly under the finish banner...actually, there is no Yahoo, it's just a very slight pumping my fist into the air about the height of my chest, I feel like I'm nine million years old. I’m past-dead. A Coke will usually re-ignite the spark of life, but I am spent. A happy, proud spent, but spent none-the-less. And MUCH more spent than the runner in my head should be.

I’ve been running marathons since 1979 and Ultras since 1981 with a somewhat varying degree of self-competitive success this entire time. In the first 20 years or so, I put in some pretty good times, was competitive with the general group of runners around the same age, and hit some peaks that I'm rather proud of. Running was fun. Running faster and farther was funner. In my mind, the party was just starting. But dang, who’s the jerk that invited Father Time? In the early 2000's, I began to have some ankle pains that began to limit my performances. I realized that as I grew older, there was, of course, a birthday-candle-to-race-performance ratio that was not going in my favor, but this ankle thing was a wildcard that was dealt. I watched my times go off the Continental Shelf but I kept at it because I just didn't want to let go. I'm a PT, did my exercises, got orthotics, wore all kinds of supports, but when you pound down 3-4 times your body weight on your ankles EVERY step, it just doesn't give it a very good chance to improve if you keep trying to run long distances. So, I eased up for a couple of years, ran VERY slow and cut down the training mileage a heap. Gradually, very gradually, the ankles got better, not great, but better. They still stiffen up after sitting a while, stairs are a test in mental tenacity, and there is a loss of range of motion that doesn't allow me to jump higher than a cup or further than foot or two. If I see a snake on the trail, I can't jump out of the way, so I just scream like a little girl and hope the snake laughs itself to death. A few years ago, I re-entered the Ultra world and have been testing the the limits since.

Two things are incredibly different. First, any speed is non-existent. My morning "training runs" are like a caboose going uphill without an engine. If I try to drop my speed to faster than a trot, my ankles are shot the rest of the day, and a limping Physical Therapist doesn't lend itself to instilling much confidence in your patient that you're going to get them better. And secondly, my endurance has taken a huge tumble. Oh, I can run-trot-walk for several hours during a race (did it for 7 hours Saturday), but the little energy-producing mitochondria in my muscles are screaming the whole way. I can pump them with Gu's and Coke and electrolytes, but they are just a bunch of flat piss-poor inefficient energy producers. Every race, I finish last or pretty doggone close to it. So many candles on the running cake these days means it–or I–could blow up and/or fizzle out any moment now. When IS the ‘expiration date' on my running?


Here comes the intangible part: at what age do you go, “Yeah, I’m gettin’ kinda’ old… could I really meet my goals, or should I re-think them? Can I think more positively and self-talk my way into turning this around, or is the door closing?”. I mean, I don’t have "verygross" veins (well, ok, I do in ONE leg), I don’t have cataracts and I can still touch my knees! Of course, there is the morning show of getting out of bed and stiff leg it to the bathroom before you get dressed for your morning run. How many mornings have I said to myself "Oh yeah sure, you're gonna run for an hour and you can't even get your leg high enough to put your shorts on!".

After how many merry-go-rounds on this planet do you logically accept REAL slow race and training times? Is there a formula? Do you factor in ‘X’ number of sucky runs plus ‘Y’ number of missed goals plus a few bad falls and five or more niggling ouchies and divide it by 12 or something?


In the ultra world, we are hardwired to ignore any physical or mental glitches that might for a zillionth of a moment bring us down. Our culture emphasizes that we "suck-it-up-buttercup" (favorite quote of my buddy, Eric) and re-frame any bummer thought. We are trained to visualize any deterrent to our plans before they happen so we can deal with it. It’s mental leprosy to start allowing doubtful thoughts to crack one’s rock-solid confidence veneer. I train to perform at and to reach my genetic potential. You can’t get any better than that, correct? At some point, inevitably those DNA strands start unraveling and turning to slush. You can’t will or Pollyanna positive-think or train harder to outrun that process, literally. It sucks, but you’re just not going to run as well at 70 as you did at 50. I am guessing that it has something to do with cellular regeneration beginning to lag far behind cellular destruction, and probably a hormonal shift that makes your muscles shrivel. Or something like that. When your DNA starts to go haywire, it ends your heyday. Or maybe the running fairies go, “Time’s up little guy.”

This post went down a darker road than I wanted it to. I'm not moping around because of my run performances. Oh, I ain't happy about it either. But hey, give me the choice of speed on the roads or sluggishness on the trails, and I say bring on the dirt. I like to run long. I like to run on trails. I DON'T like to run extremely slow. I DON'T like to make race officials wait for me (though they never seem to give it a second thought). I'll keep setting goals, but those goals are less specific, like "Let's see if I can finish this run before my watch battery dies". I can still run and I am always thankful for that. I keep telling myself to run in the moment, not in the memories of the past. Much of the time it sinks in...sometimes, not so much. But, as always, I'll continue to see you on the roads and trails - AL

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

Young Self, You Made a Monster

Al's note: I have been having trouble sending RWA to those of you that subscribe by email, so I'm trying some tricks using paperclips and gum and see if that works. I apologize if you get this post twice - Al D.

"Where'd all the days go, when all we did was play? And the stress that we were under wasn't stress at all, just run and jump into a harmless fall" - Paolo Nutini

One day recently while having one of my solo run-arounds, my mind, as it usually does, started to wander. Here I am, a runner for 35 years and numerous marathons and ultramarathons, a runner who still likes to just get out there in the rain, heat, cold (ok, not so much the cold), and all kinds of conditions just to get in my fix. I was wondering on this run, how did I get in this way? I don't mean how did I start running, but what formed me to want to live part of my life outside, running up and down hills, on the roads, on the trail, sometimes for hours at a time.

Have you ever wondered about how the experiences you have as a child form what type of adult you become? Me neither, until this run where it just popped into my noggin. As I grow older, I begin to sound and act just like the stereotypical grandfather...I don't mean complaining about everything in site and passing gas all the time, but having some strong opinions about the world that surrounds me. I keep having the thought that the youth of today is going to hell in a wheelbarrow. I know it's not true, or even 50% true, but for goodness sake, so many kids today are so reluctant to get off their butts to do something physical. On top of that, we live in a world that protects kids from doing anything dangerous or allowing them to get themselves into situations that they have to figure out how to get out of. They can't play with anything sharper than a ping-pong ball or anything smaller than their foot!

What I remember of my young childhood, or what I perceive I remember, was playing all the time outside. In the summer, or on Saturdays, I would go out early in the morning, meet friends, and "mess around" all day until it was time to get home for dinner. Some days, we would play baseball, football, or soccer, but most days were spent playing games we made up as we went along. Games that would begin as tag would evolve into some form of tackling each other until you got your friend in a hold that he couldn't escape. Bike riding would become this mad dash down a hill on a road until you made a hard right into the woods at full speed and see how far you could get before you smacked into a tree. The further you got, the more adoration you got from your friends. I can recall jumping off this 100 foot cliff (probably 20-30 ft) onto the soft dirt below. The object was to see who could jump the furthest from the point at the top of the cliff you took off from. Probably explains a lot about the ankle problems I have today - can't even jump a log on the trail. And races...we always had races - bike races, running races, tree climbing races. No rules, just "I'll race you to the ____". Of course, this usually began when you were already running someplace, so the guy who called the race usually got a head start, which was ok because things always evened out and you got left in the dust just as many times as you were the first to kick up the dust.

So, how does this tie into my running self? Does the type of play you have as a youngster smolder until one day it becomes the type of play you have as a full-fledged grownup? I'm 67 years old and my play is to lace up my shoes and go for a run for a couple of hours down the road or through the woods. Sometimes I run down a singletrack and smack into a tree. Sometimes I jump over streams to see if I can get to the other side dry. Sometimes I "race" myself or my fellow runner, though you'd be hard pressed to actually say I was racing. If I didn't play as a child, would I be playing now? If it wasn't fun then, where would I be now? What kind of future are today's kids being pigeon-holed into with more video games, more social media relationships, more homework, and year-round organized sports. Oh, I know these kids will turn out fine. They'll learn that sharp things cut and hot things burn. My world was different from my child's world, and his is different from his child's. But, don't you think that so many aspects of your childhood mold your adult self? I do, and I think one of the biggest reasons running and me have this bond now is because we had this bond a long, long time ago. Yeah, it was different. Yeah, it was the same.

Maybe I shouldn't write RWA sitting on my deck on a hot summer day with a good, cold beer by my side, but this idea spawned in my head on a run, not from the heat or the beer. I've said many times in these blogs that running is a part of me. I used to think it was because I had nurtured it in all these years that I have been running, sorta like a good habit. But, now I think that fire was sparked many years ago when I was running a block, not a mile. Jumping over a cliff and not a log. Running with friends and...well, thank goodness, I'm still doing that.

I'll see you on the roads and trails - AL


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

Young Self, You Made a Monster

"Where'd all the days go, when all we did was play? And the stress that we were under wasn't stress at all, just run and jump into a harmless fall" - Paolo Nutini
One day recently while having one of my solo run-arounds, my mind, as it usually does, started to wander. Here I am, a runner for 35 years and numerous marathons and ultramarathons, a runner who still likes to just get out there in the rain, heat, cold (ok, not so much the cold), and all kinds of conditions just to get in my fix. I was wondering on this run, how did I get in this way? I don't mean how did I start running, but what formed me to want to live part of my life outside, running up and down hills, on the roads, on the trail, sometimes for hours at a time.

Have you ever wondered about how the experiences you have as a child form what type of adult you become? Me neither, until this run where it just popped into my noggin. As I grow older, I begin to sound and act just like the stereotypical grandfather...I don't mean complaining about everything in site and passing gas all the time, but having some strong opinions about the world that surrounds me. I keep having the thought that the youth of today is going to hell in a wheelbarrow. I know it's not true, or even 50% true, but for goodness sake, so many kids today are so reluctant to get off their butts to do something physical. On top of that, we live in a world that protects kids from doing anything dangerous or allowing them to get themselves into situations that they have to figure out how to get out of. They can't play with anything sharper than a ping-pong ball or anything smaller than their foot!

What I remember of my young childhood, or what I perceive I remember, was playing all the time outside. In the summer, or on Saturdays, I would go out early in the morning, meet friends, and "mess around" all day until it was time to get home for dinner. Some days, we would play baseball, football, or soccer, but most days were spent playing games we made up as we went along. Games that would begin as tag would evolve into some form of tackling each other until you got your friend in a hold that he couldn't escape. Bike riding would become this mad dash down a hill on a road until you made a hard right into the woods at full speed and see how far you could get before you smacked into a tree. The further you got, the more adoration you got from your friends. I can recall jumping off this 100 foot cliff (probably 20-30 ft) onto the soft dirt below. The object was to see who could jump the furthest from the point at the top of the cliff you took off from. Probably explains a lot about the ankle problems I have today - can't even jump a log on the trail. And races...we always had races - bike races, running races, tree climbing races. No rules, just "I'll race you to the ____". Of course, this usually began when you were already running someplace, so the guy who called the race usually got a head start, which was ok because things always evened out and you got left in the dust just as many times as you were the first to kick up the dust.

So, how does this tie into my running self? Does the type of play you have as a youngster smolder until one day it becomes the type of play you have as a full-fledged grownup? I'm 67 years old and my play is to lace up my shoes and go for a run for a couple of hours down the road or through the woods. Sometimes I run down a singletrack and smack into a tree. Sometimes I jump over streams to see if I can get to the other side dry. Sometimes I "race" myself or my fellow runner, though you'd be hard pressed to actually say I was racing. If I didn't play as a child, would I be playing now? If it wasn't fun then, where would I be now? What kind of future are today's kids being pigeon-holed into with more video games, more social media relationships, more homework, and year-round organized sports. Oh, I know these kids will turn out fine. They'll learn that sharp things cut and hot things burn. My world was different from my child's world, and his is different from his child's. But, don't you think that so many aspects of your childhood mold your adult self? I do, and I think one of the biggest reasons running and me have this bond now is because we had this bond a long, long time ago. Yeah, it was different. Yeah, it was the same.

Maybe I shouldn't write RWA sitting on my deck on a hot summer day with a good, cold beer by my side, but this idea spawned in my head on a run, not from the heat or the beer. I've said many times in these blogs that running is a part of me. I used to think it was because I had nurtured it in all these years that I have been running, sorta like a good habit. But, now I think that fire was sparked many years ago when I was running a block, not a mile. Jumping over a cliff and not a log. Running with friends and...well, thank goodness, I'm still doing that.

I'll see you on the roads and trails - AL


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

Me and The 10,000 Hour Rule

"At first people will ask why you're doing it, but eventually after the hard work pays off, they will ask how you did it..." - Steve Prefontaine

While looking at some of my awesome adequate pitiful statistics on Strava, I wondered how much of this is really meaningful. Except for those extremely frustrating occasions when my Nike+ Sportswatch doesn't makes friends with my personal running satellite, I download my runs to Strava (I hate the Nike Website). Strava will track all types of numbers that have to do with your run, and probably none of it has helped me become a better runner at all, but sometimes it's fun to look at.

Years ago, I used to be almost obsessed with getting in the miles, so that's what I would look at most. Could I get in my arbitrary weekly/monthly quota? Several years, I ran over 3000 miles, averaging better than 50 miles a week. Holy cow! That's a bunch. My all-time weekly high was 108 miles. Nearly killed me...did it in July...in Alabama...running to and from work from my home to downtown...over two significant mile-long hills each way. Yeah, did that once!

Now, when I download my runs, I still look at miles, but mostly as an interesting curiosity. I only run 4, or occasionally 5, days a week. I average about half of those "glory day" mile totals. These days, I like to look at elevation gain because I run about half my miles on trails over hill and dale and because I have no idea how to measure dales, I keep track of the hills. When I struggle through a Sunday run on roads with my non-trail running friends, I usually mention that I ran trails yesterday - "How far did you go?" - "Well, it was only 12 miles, but it had 2500 ft of elevation". Deaf ears...means nothing...may as well have told them it was 25,000 feet. But, I follow it. I know several thousand feet climbing will knock me on my can the next day! The time that used to get me 20 miles on the road barely gets me 10 miles on the trail now, but I usually don't keep close track of how the hours pile up.

In Malcolm Gladwell's book, Outliers, he repeatedly mentions the "10,000-Hour Rule", claiming that the key to success in ANY field is, to a large extent, a matter of practicing a specific task for a total of around 10,000 hours. This nonsense controversial idea has been pretty much disproven, but seeing that he is one of my favorite authors, the premise has stuck in my mind. So, as usual during my solo trail runs, like this morning, I got to thinking. I began to wonder exactly how much time I spend running. Do I really spend that much time preparing for the "events" I choose to do? I know I get up early in the morning for just about all of my runs and I feel like that's pretty doggone dedicated to do that, but how does my training fit into Gladwell's "flat-earth" theory?

So, I consulted Professor Strava. Last year I ran 1370 miles in 303 hours. In 2012, I did 1424 miles in 290 hours (sigh! I know, slower!). So, in 2 full years, that's 2794 miles in 593 hours. I'll save you the trouble...it's 12:42 min/mi - hey, those hilly trails slow me down!!! Now, looking at elevation gain, in the past 18 months, I've climbed over 119,000 feet...That's over 4 times from sea level to the tip of the summit of Mt Everest! Still, even with the elevation excuse of slowing me down and adding to the "hours" spent running, the 300 hours per year average is not really that much of a dent in the 10,000 hour rule, is it?

I began running obsessively regularly in 1978 and have since run over 80,000 miles. Now, I was faster "back-in-the-day", so why don't we say the 36 years all averages to about 9:30/mi. Let's see, applying my New Jersey education, 9.5 x 80,000 = 760,000 minutes divided by 60 = 12,666 hours!! Obviously, this is well and above Gladwell's threshold for excellence! So, why am I so damn slow and always finish in the buttend of races? Yeah, yeah, age...blah, blah, blah. Ankles from hell...blah, blah, blah.

So, while I plodded around Oak Mt, I realized that the 10,000 Hour Rule doesn't just require lacing up your Hokas and moseying down the trail or road. Learning how to improve any skill requires top-down (brain-feet) focus. We have to strengthen the old brain circuits and build new ones for a skill to become sharpened and improve our outcome. It requires paying attention. When practice occurs while we are looking at the scenery or talking to our friends about that & this, the brain does not rewire the relevant circuitry for that particular routine, in this case, running up the Yellow/White connector. So, what happens is that each time I hit that Y/W connector, I huff and puff, stop and take deep breaths, slowly step over the boulders, and generally don't practice attacking the weak parts of my running. Daydreaming defeats practice. Complacency defeats practice. And yes, things like age and ankles defeats practice. But, paying full attention is what we have to do for everything to sharpen us into that "success" that Gladwell proposes in his 10 Grand Rule, not just simply putting in the time.

So, although I've worn down hundreds of pairs of shoes past the magic 10,000 hours, what Strava doesn't tell me is how many hours were actually spent focusing on those skills in order to get the most out of the vehicle I carry around. Oh, I wish I could run the hills just a little better, but you know, my mind was wondering on the trails this morning because it was warm, it was raining, it was quiet...yeah, that's fine with me. Do I really want to make work out of it? Nah. Maybe in the formative years, that's fun, but not now. Maybe I didn't use all those hours to it's utmost to achieve "success", but I did OK. For now, as Popeye said, "I yam what I yam".

I'll see you all on the roads and trails - AL

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

Jabbering On The Trails

"A long run is easy until it gets hard" - unknown, but well known to experienced endurance athletes 

Man, it is hot out there. There being Birmingham, Alabama...in July...where it's supposed to be hot. I used to relish running in the heat, but as I get as old as Methuselah, the heat melts me down pretty quickly. Actually, yesterday, I ran better on the very hilly trails of Oak Mountain than I did this morning on the flat roads of Homewood. I was a wilted cowboy when this one was done. I'll never be ready for winter, but I won't argue with a little cooler weather.

Today, while running with Moha on the roads, Ken joined us in the middle of his 2nd 20+ miler of the week. Ken's one of these runners that just runs until he's tired and then checks his watch to see how far he's gone. Anyway, me and Moha were bantering back & forth and Ken said "Is this how it goes on for hours on the trail?". Well Ken, yes it does. Here's just some short snipets of the many conversations we had huffing and puffing and hammering up and down the hills yesterday:

Moha: We didn't go up this hill last week, did we?

Me: Yes we did.

Moha: I must've been in better shape last week.

Talking about James Durant, a local runner. I was mentioning that he's a very good runner -

Me: You know, he's a year older than me (68) and he'll finish the Hotter 'n' Hell race an hour faster than us.

Moha: Yeah, but he doesn't have your bad ankles or my big belly.

Both of us love soccer and Moha was trying to convince me that soccer is really catching on here in the states -

Me: You're full of baloney Mo. Soccer will never catch on. Folks won't support it here.

Moha: Oh, it's very popular. People in Atlanta support their team a lot.

Me: They don't even have a team in Atlanta, except maybe a women's team.

Moha: Yes they do. I remember seeing them when I lived there in 19...

Me: STOP right there. You're argument just fell apart. 19?? was at least 15 years ago.

Moha: Well, IF they had a team, they would support it

Standing under Peavine Falls, which is no more than a low-pressure-garden-hose trickle due to the lack of rain -

Moha: Can you drink that water?

Me: Yes, you CAN drink that water. How much toilet paper did you bring?

Coming out of the trail and onto road for maybe 20 yards to hit the Green/Yellow connector trail, we encountered the transition area of the popular Buster Britton Triathlon going on -

Moha: Now I have to suck in my gut

Me: Yeah, like that's gonna happen!

Just recently got my new Hoka Bondi 3's after 4 pairs of Bondi 2's -

Me: I don't like them as much. The tongue is not padded, the loop on the heel is too small to fit your finger(s) to pull the shoe on, the cushioning doesn't feel as soft, and they just seem more cheaply made.

Moha: Anybody else complain?

Me: Well, I went on line, but I couldn't find anybody else complaining.

Moha: So, shut the hell up!

Moha was recalling the recent Peavine Falls race on July 4th, an 8.2 mile race, 90% on road, last 10% on a twisty trail-

Moha: I came out of the trail and there was this guy just ahead of me. So, I ran as hard as I could and passed him. I was feeling good and then the son of a b*t*h passed me right at the end. Should have beat him.

Me: But you didn't

Moha: Nope.

Me: So, shut the hell up!

Just as we're finishing up our run, we come on the road to the parking lot and I noticed the gate to the Peavine Road is locked -

Me: Why is the gate locked?

Moha: I don't know. Why do you think it's locked?

Me: I just asked you because I didn't know

Moha: Do you think it's locked to keep cars from going on the road?

Me: Um, I would guess that's the point.

Moha: I wonder why they would lock it.

Me: Geez!!

Near the end of the run, coming down the Tree Top Trail -

Moha: How much more to go?

Me: A little over a mile

Moha: We're there, brother!

Me: Yep, we're there.

Moha: If we're there, why do we have to keep running?

Me: Excellent point. Keep running

And that's a piece of how I fill up two and half hours of running with Mo. Runs like this weekend I feel like an ice cube melting in a coffee pot, but laughter will get you to keep moving forward. So, yes Ken, this IS how it goes for hours on the trail when I run with Moha. Now, if I can just get these dang legs moving a little better. Next week....yeah, that's it...next week.

I'll see you all on the trails and roads - Al

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

 

Jabbering On The Trails

"A long run is easy until it gets hard" - unknown, but well known to experienced endurance athletes

Man, it is hot out there. There being Birmingham, Alabama...in July...where it's supposed to be hot. I used to relish running in the heat, but as I get as old as Methuselah, the heat melts me down pretty quickly. Actually, yesterday, I ran better on the very hilly trails of Oak Mountain than I did this morning on the flat roads of Homewood. I was a wilted cowboy when this one was done. I'll never be ready for winter, but I won't argue with a little cooler weather. 

Today, while running with Moha on the roads, Ken joined us in the middle of his 2nd 20+ miler of the week. Ken's one of these runners that just runs until he's tired and then checks his watch to see how far he's gone. Anyway, me and Moha were bantering back & forth and Ken said "Is this how it goes on for hours on the trail?". Well Ken, yes it does. Here's just some short snipets of the many conversations we had huffing and puffing and hammering up and down the hills yesterday:

Moha: We didn't go up this hill last week, did we?
Me: Yes we did.
Moha: I must've been in better shape last week.

Talking about James Durant, a local runner. I was mentioning that he's a very good runner -
Me: You know, he's a year older than me (68) and he'll finish the Hotter 'n' Hell race an hour faster than us.
Moha: Yeah, but he doesn't have your bad ankles or my big belly.

Both of us love soccer and Moha was trying to convince me that soccer is really catching on here in the states - 
Me: You're full of baloney Mo. Soccer will never catch on. Folks won't support it here. 
Moha: Oh, it's very popular. People in Atlanta support their team a lot.
Me: They don't even have a team in Atlanta, except maybe a women's team.
Moha: Yes they do. I remember seeing them when I lived there in 19...
Me: STOP right there. You're argument just fell apart. 19?? was at least 15 years ago.
Moha: Well, IF they had a team, they would support it

Standing under Peavine Falls, which is no more than a low-pressure-garden-hose trickle due to the lack of rain -
Moha: Can you drink that water?
Me: Yes, you CAN drink that water. How much toilet paper did you bring?

Coming out of the trail and onto road for maybe 20 yards to hit the Green/Yellow connector trail, we encountered the transition area of the popular Buster Britton Triathlon going on -
Moha: Now I have to suck in my gut
Me: Yeah, like that's gonna happen!

Just recently got my new Hoka Bondi 3's after 4 pairs of Bondi 2's -
Me: I don't like them as much. The tongue is not padded, the loop on the heel is too small to fit your finger(s) to pull the shoe on, the cushioning doesn't feel as soft, and they just seem more cheaply made.
Moha: Anybody else complain?
Me: Well, I went on line, but I couldn't find anybody else complaining.
Moha: So, shut the hell up!

Moha was recalling the recent Peavine Falls race on July 4th, an 8.2 mile race, 90% on road, last 10% on a twisty trail-
Moha: I came out of the trail and there was this guy just ahead of me. So, I ran as hard as I could and passed him. I was feeling good and then the son of a b*t*h passed me right at the end. Should have beat him.
Me: But you didn't
Moha: Nope.
Me: So, shut the hell up!

Just as we're finishing up our run, we come on the road to the parking lot and I noticed the gate to the Peavine Road is locked -
Me: Why is the gate locked?
Moha: I don't know. Why do you think it's locked?
Me: I just asked you because I didn't know
Moha: Do you think it's locked to keep cars from going on the road?
Me: Um, I would guess that's the point.
Moha: I wonder why they would lock it.
Me: Geez!!

Near the end of the run, coming down the Tree Top Trail -
Moha: How much more to go?
Me: A little over a mile
Moha: We're there, brother!
Me: Yep, we're there.
Moha: If we're there, why do we have to keep running?
Me: Excellent point. Keep running

And that's a piece of how I fill up two and half hours of running with Mo. Runs like this weekend I feel like an ice cube melting in a coffee pot, but laughter will get you to keep moving forward. So, yes Ken, this IS how it goes for hours on the trail when I run with Moha. Now, if I can just get these dang legs moving a little better. Next week....yeah, that's it...next week.

I'll see you all on the trails and roads - Al

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

Karma on the Trail

"Youth ages, immaturity is outgrown, ignorance can be educated, and drunkenness sobered, but stupid lasts forever" - Aristophanes, Greek Playright

So, this past weekend, me & Moha ran the Oak Mountain Hotter 'n' Hell course AGAIN, trying to get comfortable with the constant ups and downs of going over Johnson Mountain, up the one mile BUMP Trail, down into the Peavine Gorge, climbing out of said gorge, soon climbing up the 20+% grade of the white/green connector, dumping out onto the rocky Green Trail downhill, and finally trudging back the final 1-2 miles to the beginning. And that's loop ONE! Ok, the total 2 loops is only 18 miles (David Tosch "miles"), but there is no way you are crazy about doing loop #2 after winding up at the aid station/finish line after loop #1. But, in three weeks, I plan to do it, as I did last year. I'm getting older and definitely slower, but it does please me that I continue to get out on these trails and try to push all the juice out of the lemon.


But, in addition to getting slower, I seem to be getting more cranky. Now, granted this was the July 4th weekend, and I'm sure that there were a lot of "cityfolk" on the trail over the holiday that thought it would be a good idea to go see Peavine Falls. Ha, that's a good one! First of all, it's a pretty strenuous trek to get to the falls and I'm sure there were many well-meaning "hikers" that reversed course halfway up, and another group that literaly cried when they got to their destination, because due to the lack of rain around these parts, Peavine Falls has been reduced to no more than a very small trickle. Now, for any trail runner climbing down the gorge, this was still a welcome site because the water is ice cold...OH YES!!! The hell with Giardia, I'm dousing myself with this stuff!


OK, so what do I have to be cranky about? It was the disgraceful amount of trash littering the trails. Every week, I'll pick up a few Gu or candy wrappers, or Honey Stinger/Powerbar wrappers (which I know can only be bikers...no self respecting trailrunner can down a Powerbar on a run!). But, this week was crazy. By the time I got to the Treetop Nature Center 8 miles into the run (the 1st trashcan), I had my pockets and waterbelt stuffed with 4 waterbottles, including a 32oz Gatorade bottle, wrappers of all types, plus a large Potato Chip bag! Moha had his pockets equally filled too. I know it wasn't the bikers, because we weren't on the Red (bike) Trail TOO much. And it wasn't trash from the Peavine Falls Run July 4th, because that's 90% on road. And I doubt it's from any trailrunner, because we do respect the trails. Under no circumstances are you allowed to litter. Period. You carry it in, you carry it out. We all know this. In a race, the items you take from an aid station are fine to take on the trail with you, but you keep your garbage with you until you see the next trash can. There is a zero tolerance policy here. Littering is unacceptable. As this sport grows, this is one sure way to ensure races get cancelled by state parks. But, I guess all we can do is police ourselves.


I am amazed by the growth of trail running lately (especially thanks to BUTS in the Birmingham area). We have many new runners joining our races that have never run trails before. In October, the SouthEastern Trail Series will have another free race for Birmingham Track Club members. Last year, it was incredible how many showed up. And they all loved it, despite David Tosch's attempt to discourage them with his usual up-the-mountain/down-the-mountain course. Those of us that have been doing this for a while must serve as a mentor to new trail runners. New trail runners may not know the rules. Tattoos are not a rule...facial hair is not a rule! But, trail running is a different culture than road running. In road running you’re not expected to carry your own water bottle. It’s ok to throw your cups on the ground during a race. In some cases, new trail runners may not know the rules of the trail. It’s our job to coach and mentor.


Birmingham has great trail systems all over the area. It really pained me to see the trash on the trails this weekend. We are fortunate to be able to run in great places. But as this sport grows, each and every one of us has a responsibility to leave only footprints.


As I get older and slower (and more cranky), I keep telling myself that I have to look for all angles to keep myself going. TAKE CARE OF THE TRAILS AND THE TRAIL WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU.


I'll see you on the roads and trails - AL


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

My Running and Blogging...Like Google Search, It's Loading Slow!

"There's no such thing as writer's block for writers whose standards are low enough" - W. Stafford, writer


This morning, on an incredibly humid morning in Birmingham, Alabama, me and my buddy, Moha, went out to Red Mountain and had a very pleasant run for a couple of hours on the trail. No falls. No snakes. Lots of laughs. We met some trail runners we had never met. And, I discovered a new favorite Gu flavor...Chocolate Peanut Butter!!! Yes, even better than plain, old Peanut Butter.


Now, wasn't that interesting? Of course not. One great thing about blogging about running is that you always feel there is something new to say. There's definitely a symbiotic relationship between my workouts and my posts. One inspires the other. And, I have a bunch of thoughts rattling around in my head that I'm sure you're just itching to hear. But hold on a second...maybe you're not itching to hear these rattling thoughts after all. How interested are you in what I think? You have to admit that it's a leap of faith I take every week or so that what I put down will actually hold your interest longer than it takes you to find and hit the Delete button. There is NOT always something new or interesting to say. Every blogger likes to to think he has the hook in every reader that has read his or her mental meandering, but the fact is that that intellectual thunderbolt is not always there for the blogger and boom!...you've lost your readership.


This blog started as way to capture my singular experience as I ran over 3 decades up hill and dale from here to there. Marathons and ultramarathons. Roads and trails. From my young self to my current older self. I didn't want it to be simply a chronicle of my training and racing, but rather a reflection of how running changed my life, how my views of running had changed, and most importantly, how these scattered thoughts might relate to you. Many times I write "It might just be me, but..." and then I get a ton of comments saying, "No, it's me too!". That is always comforting. But, you know, I haven't got a ton of comments yet saying "Yeah, my trail pace has become slower than a slow boat to China too", I'm sure you'll let me know it can't be just me.


Seriously, by shear stats, and word of mouth from my very kind friends and family, I've discovered that many other people relate to the site. I recently checked my traffic and saw that Running With Al has had almost 40,000 page views since I began posting four years ago. It's awfully hard for me to believe that I have 262 subscribers that get RWA delivered to their already crammed mailboxes every week or so. I have readers in all 50 of the United States, and most astoundingly to me, I've had readers in 89 countries. I understand there are about 204 countries in the world, so I guess I have to send a few cold posts to folks in those countries to boost my stats. Yes, I know 90% of these readers don't say "Oh yey, another RWA has arrived" and devour it word for word. Sadly, most readers probably hit that handy Delete button before even opening it, but for those that do read it, I honestly thank you. And just a word that I'm sure is universal...all bloggers are voracious for comments, so please don't hold it in. Let me know what you're thinking. How else do I know you're reading?


Obviously, this week is what is commonly called a blank slate as far as an interesting subject is concerned. Hey, this happens in running and blogging. I love to do both, but each effort is different. Like the song, "Somedays are diamonds, somedays are stone". Thanks for reading.

I'll see you all on the roads and trails - AL



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

Running...What's It To Ya?

"You're in pretty good shape for the shape you're in!" - Dr. Seuss

This past weekend, I "celebrated" my birthday and as a birthday present to myself, I ran a tough 12 mile trail race that will literally suck the air out of your brain. Actually, it has nothing to do with a birthday present, it's just that the race was scheduled the day before my birthday, so I figured I'd close the old year with a bang. Running that race, and the other solo runs of the Holiday weekend put me in a reflective state--thinking about my life, what's important, where I came from, where I am and where I'm going. That's what having another birthday does! I mean, c'mon, this was the 67th anniversary of me coming into this crazy world. From the moment I was born, I guess the majority of my plans have taken a right or left turn from their intended destination. Oh, not a hard, 90 degree turn most of the time, but rather a wide turn like a giant steamship trying to avoid the iceberg up ahead. Oh, there was nothing deep about my reflectiveness...nothing with a large meaning, but just
drifting.

  
After running for over 3 decades, I think often about where running has brought me. It's about far more than lacing up the shoes and putting one foot in front of the other in pursuit of my own goals. Running has helped make me who I am. Running is not me, but it is definitely a major part of me. I've said often in this blog that running (or whatever your interests are) can't help but define your very nature. Running brings peace amid the occasional chaos of life. I remember when I worked in a clinic that allowed me to run at lunch, how much I looked forward to that escape. When I'm out the door, problems can disappear, even if only for an hour or so, and I return with a new sense of calm and better perspective. 

Running provides quiet times of reflection. Life often gets so busy that simple reflection takes a conscious effort. When I run, I have time to reflect. I often think about my dad. He never saw me run and passed away in 1982, one year after I did my first ultramarathon. As the years pass, he gets bigger in my mind, and thankfully, those memories stay crisp. I think of him often because I want to think of him often and running on a smooth single track trail provides the perfect opportunity for me to do just that. 

Running provides friendship. Most of my closest friends today are fellow runners who I see every Saturday and/or Sunday. But it's more than that. Like any runner, I can go to any race and even if I don't know anyone there, I'm still surrounded by friends. I meet folks that I've jabbered with on Facebook, but never officially met "in life". I'll introduce myself to folks more often than not with "I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name". At least these days I can blame it on age! We all share the many threads that make up our running selves.

Running has allowed me to figure out what I'm made of. Whether at mile 20 of a marathon, mile 35 of a 50 miler or mile 80 of a 100-miler, I always learn at these critical junctures in a race what's deep inside of me and will it keep me going forward. Oh, it's not an instant revelation of "So, this is what I'm all about", but rather one that hits you sometime long after the race has finished. You think about those dark moments in the run when the thoughts of quitting really didn't sound that bad, but something said "Ha, that's a good one" and on you pushed. One's character often comes out in times of great stress and suffering. And I've come to realize that, amid my flaws, I must have a strong character and the courage to endure because as much as I usually want to, I will hardly ever FULLY pack it in. But man, I sure can whine a lot during a race (just ask Moha). 

Running allows me to plan my day. My early-morning run  before the sun rises takes off the edge, making me just tired enough to focus on what's in front of me. My job as a Physical Therapist is not necessarily hard, but trying to convince some of these folks to exercise when they have no more desire to exercise than the Man in the Moon can be taxing, especially to somebody like me who loves to sweat! On the mornings I run, I can approach my patient load with a "Get-through-them-one-at-a time" attitude. 

 
Running brings emotion. Not the wide swing of emotions, but the ones that catch you by surprise. Running doesn't usually make me sob, although some of my runs have been pretty sad, but I remember when I finished my first Boston Marathon in 1995, I had a very unexpected, but controlled rush of happy tears. It just meant a lot. It was a different scene when I crossed the finish line at the Pikes Peak Marathon...instant uncontrolled sobbing. Not sure if it was just a release of emotions from finishing the toughest race I can remember being in, or if I was just relieved to get off the damn mountain before the thunderstorm got me. Another emotion is just one big "WOW". This happens every time I come to the top of a trail ridge where you can see what seems like forever. We have one such place here at Oak Mt called King's Chair. If you're blessed enough to make it to the top of the Blue Trail, you can literally see for 40 miles across the valley. If you don't say WOW to that, your heart is harder than the stone that King's Chair is made of!

  
Running brings out my competitiveness. I know, I'm 67 years old, and I pretty much finish last or daggum close to it in every race. I'm not racing anybody, but I get out there and think I'm moving along pretty good and although it might be pushing times I could clock with a sundial, I am running with (not against) my younger self. In the race I did Saturday, climbing up the 15-20%, one-mile long, White Trail (twice) is a killer. Back in the Day (God, I hate that term), I could run up at least part of it. Saturday, I looked like those newsreels of climbers taking their last steps before the conquering of Everest. But, I wasn't trying to conquer the trail this time. I was competitive to the point that if the mountain gave me anything, I would take it and give a big Thank You back. 

So I run knowing running makes me a better person, at least to myself. Those of us who have such a pursuit--be it painting, cooking, building model airplanes, etc.--I guess we're the lucky ones. We have an inner call that has to be answered. I don't want to make it more than it is, but to many of us, it is more than lacing up our shoes. 

I'll see you all on the roads and trails - AL

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

Doing It By Memory

"Sometimes distance running is as effortless as floating. Other times it's like giving birth" - Katie Arnold, ultrarunner

Surprisingly, mostly to myself, I managed to run another ultra a week ago, completing the Run For Kids 50k at Oak Mt. I meant to post this at least 5-6 days ago, but I was mired in a much too unfamiliar bout with bronchitis. More on that later. Ok, back to this 50k thing. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't blazing it and my only goal was to finish the daggum thing in fairly good shape. The RFK50 is run on what I affectionately call the "Sissy Trail". Oak Mt can have some significant long mother climbs that seem to go on forever at about a 15% grade, but this 3.3 mile loop has about 90' of elevation each loop. Just some constant PUDS (Pointless Ups & Downs). On those tougher runs with those long mother hills, the walking sections are pretty much determined for you..."I've got to walk this hill"..."I've got to walk. There's a hill coming up"..."I see a hill way out there. Think I'll walk now". But, on the Sissy Trail, you're reduced to walking when you get the first wave of  fatigue (or the first wave of imagined fatigue). Without it being set out before you, it's damn embarrassing to walk a piddly incline that's barely more than you'd see on a residential driveway. But, there it is.

So, this run is basically 10 loops through the woods, which to some sounds incredibly boring. But, if you set your head right, it really is quite pleasant. The main (and only) aid station is never far away. You really don't have to carry anything at all. I chose to carry a water bottle because I always train on the trail with one and would feel positively nekked without it. By the 6th loop or so, you pretty much have every rock and root memorized and know how far it is from here to there. That makes it cozy mentally. It's pretty impossible to get lost...Well, almost, as Moha, my invaluable running partner, actually ran off course during the 8th loop. If I wasn't right behind him, he would have merrily ran his way into the next county.

I'm not going to give a loop-by-loop account of this race, because that WOULD be incredibly boring. But, here are some of my observations from last weekend:

I've gotten extremely slow in doing these runs, but it's amazing how satisfied I feel that I'm doing them. I think I said to Moha during the race "Why do I feel so good about doing these when we suck so bad?". Actually, the only thing that sucks is my speed when I compare it Days of Yonder. But, that shouldn't come as any surprise...I'm a hundred years old, I've got two ankles out of warranty, and most of all, for the past three years, I've only averaged about 25 miles a week in training. But, I find great delight (and surprise) that I can slowly cruise through 31 miles where I'm not really going THAT much slower at the end than I am at the start. So, with all this, I guess you can pretty much do this by memory as long as you have a good base and don't expect more out your body than is realistic. I really think the most important part of trail running is that most races are going to have some steep hills in them, so you better train on the hills. I think this is more important than putting in God-awful mile upon mile for hour upon hour.

My nutrition during this run was pretty straight forward. Up until about mile 25, I drank strictly water, and had one Peanut Butter Gu each loop. I used to be Gatorade junkie, but the more I read about hydration, it seems that there are better ways to get electrolytes in you than Sugar Water. I carry some Nuun tablets with me if I feel my electrolytes are tanking, but I didn't use any in this race. You just add these to your water bottle and are purely electrolytes. The last two trips through the aid station, I drank Coke (I know, the Ultimate Sugar Water), which I wish was de-fizzed, and a bite of great Ham & Cheese wraps (plus the Gu). As I do more of these runs (this was #141 over 3+ decades), I seem to have discovered Coke, both as a late-in-the-race drink and as a go-to drink immediately after the run. I'm not saying Coke as a brand name, but as a generic sugary soft drink. Anybody else find that this really works quick to pick you up? Guess it doesn't matter if it's in my head or not, but I'm convinced it helps, so I'll keep it up until I crash on it someday and then I'll find another miracle.

Friends are invaluable. I've posted many times about my runs with Moha. We run basically the same pace, fatigue at the same points, argue enough about everything and love the game of European Soccer. We basically have a good time for a whole day in the woods every time we run. But, in addition, on a course like this, we are constantly being passed by the front runners. This race also had a 12 Hour Run going on, but unless you saw the color of their bib (which is pinned on the front, making it hard to see when they come screaming on you from behind), you mostly didn't know what race they were in. But, I will say that, without a doubt, every runner that passed always had a friendly word to say, be it encouragement, friendliness, or concern (as in "Are you OK? You're moving mighty slow"). When you finish the race, the leaders are on their 3rd beers, but they still take the time to clap and offer a genuine form of "Good Job". It seems like at the end of most races up to the marathon, the first question other runners ask you is "What was your time?", but honestly, when you finish one of these, time just doesn't seem that important. A hand shake, a fist bump, or a good ol' slap on the back is what you want and it's what you get. Yes, friends are invaluable.

Usually, I recover pretty quickly from these runs, but this has been a little different. The weekend before the race, somehow, my Superhuman immune system allowed it to be taken over by some alien strain of bronchitis, stopping my running for a week...Crazy tapering! So, I reluctantly made a trip to Dr. Doc-in-the -Box, got a shot and anti-biotics and was able use smoke and mirrors and finish the 31 miles through the forest. Can we all say relapse? I wasn't as sick, but these coughing attacks brought about by what feels like a hairball of feathers in my throat is driving me nuts. I went out for something this morning for 8 miles, but it sure wasn't what I call a run. Holy cow! I felt like I was in the last stage of a stress test. Oh well, I've got two weeks before my next race. The Crazy Taper continues.

Ok, finally, a word of praise for a couple of fellow BUTS (Birmingham Ultra Trail Society) buddies. 100% of the proceeds of this race went to Camp Smile-a-Mile, an Alabama camp for children with cancer. Donna Arrington, still coming back from foot surgery, raised over $2000 doing over 54 miles in the 12 Hour Run. Great job Donna. And then there's Suman. Surely you remember him from a few posts ago...he's the one that bumped UP from 50 miles to the 100 miles at the Lake Martin Ultras the night before and finished his 1st hundred miler in 25 hours! Well, he did it again...get this...bumping up from the 10k to the 12 Hour the day before. He did 60.5 miles! I saw him this morning and he sounded like the 60.5 miles pretty much did him instead of the other way around. Quite a string of performances Suman. He swears he's cutting back for a while...yeah, right!

Ok, and now I have to figure out the antidote to this Kryptonite poisoning and get my Superhuman powers back. Until next time, welcome the warm weather, run smooth, force fluids, and be sure to wash your hands.

I'll see you on the roads and trails - Al

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

Boston Strong: A Year Later

The Boston Marathon has always been the THE marathon...everyone knows THE Yankees, everyone knows THE Notre Dame football team, everyone knows THE Kentucky Derby, and everyone knows THE Boston Marathon...just known as "Boston". Six times I was fortunate enough to qualify to run the race, and five times I was able to fulfill that dream and travel the runner's sacred 26.2 mile path from Hopkinton to the middle of Boston. I ran it enough to now be able to visualize the whole course in my head and feel the sneaky downhills of the first half of the race, hear the Scream Tunnel of the girls of Wellsley, battle the three (or is it four) bumps of Heartbreak Hill, and cherish the "Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston" to the finish line. I haven't run it since 2007. No excuses. I'm just not anywhere speedy enough to qualify anymore. But it's still ingrained in my very fiber and means more than just "my favorite race". Running Boston provides you entrance into an elite club...at least those of us that have done it feel it's an elite club. It's still a rush to answer "yes" when somebody asks "Have you ever done Boston?". With all it's quirks and traditions that have flourished in a race well over a century old, with all it's history of great battles for the victory with sprints down the last few hundred yards of Boylston, and even with it's growing commercialism and busting-at-the-seams participants, there is a Disneyland presence of being THERE.

      Or maybe there WAS a Disneyland presence. We all know of the terror of last year's race, and the terrible aftermath. I certainly won't recount it here. We all know somebody who was there and we remember feeling helpless. The terrorists didn't hate runners, they just chose a venue of runners to do their evilness.  We hated them for what they did to innocent families. We hated them for further deteriorating the security that living in the USA gives us. And selfishly, we hated them for staining the sport we loved.

     Whenever there's a storm, the sun eventually shines, and the sun here was how the running and non-running community solidified around this tragedy. A nation gave Boston support, and the City of Boston rallied behind a collective force that became BOSTON STRONG. Immediately after the bombings, makeshift memorials sprung up around the scene. Running shoes, shirts, notes of love, letters of grief, trinkets of all kinds were placed along the Crime Scene barriers. When the investigation was over, the memorials were moved to a park, and not until June were they carefully packed up, but with the Mayor's promise that there would be a fitting display in the near future.
     This weekend, one week before this year's 118th running of the Marathon, my wife and I are visiting our family in Boston as we try to do about every other month. From the moment you get off the plane, there are signs everywhere signifying BOSTON STRONG...banners, signs in storefronts, on buses, on taxis, on lightposts, literally everywhere. And so, I had the opportunity to visit the very recently opened "Dear Boston" exhibit at the Boston Library. 

It is free and will run until the middle of May. It was a beautiful remembrance of those days one year ago...no music playing, no somber lighting, no photos of the day of the race. This was a tribute to a community by that same community, but never with the arrogance of "Don't mess with us", or "You picked the wrong city". It was a display of this happened and we care. Walking through, you felt proud for what we can be as a society. We can rally for the good of all. We can pick up the pieces. Heck, runners do it all the time, but this was for all to see, for all to feel, for all to be a part of. 

I, as all of us do, pray that we never see anything like this again. But sadly, we know we will. It may be man-made, it may be nature, it may be something else. But, when the smoke begins to clear, all we can hope for, and pray for, is to be strong...like Boston...Boston Strong.

Until next time, I'll see you on the roads - AL

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

In Awe of My Friends

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work" - Thomas Edison

Ok, the truth is I'm getting older and slower. I know that. You know that. Any of the world who has known me over the past three decades knows that. Big deal. I wish it wasn't that way, but it's the way of life. The alternative to keep from running slower is to stop running. Well, that, of course, is not going to happen. At least not until I look pretty doggone stupid trying to put one foot in front of the other, and then someone is going to have to convince me that I really do look stupid, because sometimes I feel like I'm flying at 17 min/mile heading down some trail. 

 A few months ago, I wrote a post here about the changing paradigm that is taking place in running. So many runners are doing runs that years ago were on the outer fringes of being possible for the masses. Now, they get more and more commonplace...half-marathons, marathons, ultramarathons, trail races, etc. However, now it seems there is another paradigm shift (I really don't know exactly what the word means, but it just sounds so cool to use it). That shift seems to be in the way and attitude runners are approaching training and running races. 

Many years ago, I read a book by Alvin Toffler called Future Shock. Basically, he wrote about too much change in too short a period of time. Of course, he was talking about the development of society as a whole, as in agriculture, industrialization, and technology. He said something like if man on earth was represented in a 12 inch ruler, 99% of all the civilized developments of man would be in the last 1/4 inch. I'm sure Ol' Alvin had no reference at all in mind relative to my running, but if I viewed all the primitive ways I developed my running from the 70's (the same decade as Toffler's book) to what's going on in the past "1/4 inch" of running. There certainly seems to be a parallel that I find "too much change in too short a period of time". In a future post, I'll chronicle some of those changes, but I've got one change that seems to be getting more and more prolific, and I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it.

Let's back up a little and return to those thrilling days of yesteryear. I ran my first marathon in the Fall of 1979 after 6 months of very specific training. I did well and caught the fever. At the time, there were two marathons in Birmingham...the Vulcan that I had just completed and the Magic City Marathon held in February. Marathoners in B'ham were a small group and I was desperately trying to become a solid member. I wanted to run the MCM 5 months after my first Vulcan, but was warned it was TOO CLOSE. You just didn't do 2 marathons in less than 6 months apart! Well, I was thick-headed and did the race. Finished about 11' slower than my first and blamed it on "squeezing" those runs so close together. I obviously hadn't recovered adequately to put forth a good effort. The 10k's I did were done for PR's, but they were really training to get faster in the marathon distance. This was serious stuff folks. In the 70's and 80's, you ran balls-to-the-wall to do your best time every time you pinned on a bib number. 

I did more and more marathons and started to enter the Ultramarathon world, but still would TRY to be careful not to get crazy with piling on the distance. If I had races coming up close together, I would try to cut back on my training miles. Throughout my "competitive" years, my mileage was pretty steady at 60-70 miles per week. My biggest training week ever  was 108 miles and my longest streak was 80 days. Why do I remember those numbers? Because they both almost killed me!! You planned your long training runs weeks ahead of time, and races were cross-haired several months down the road (and not because the race filled an hour after registration opened!). And there in lies my problem (awe).

I definitely hang out with wrong folks. They say if you want to look skinny, hang out with heavy people. If you want to look smart, hang out with some...well, "not-so-smarts". So, if you want to look like a fast runner, hang out with slow runners, or if you want to look like a big stud ultrarunner, hang out with folks just beginning a Couch-to-5k program. What I'm saying is this paradigm train just went flying by me. Go on Facebook, and I see my friends posting "Hey, leaving from the BMX Track at 6:30 in the morning for a 20-25 miler. Who's in?". Before I get to snicker, there are 15 "I'm in" responses. No thought process that might hint that a 25 miler, comprising 5+ hours on the trail might be a little much on 12 hours notice. Geez!  A few weeks ago, my friend Suman posted that the next weekend he was going to do an "Epic" 40 mile trail training run at Oak Mountain. Tons of people wanted to join him and many did, at least for much of it! What happened to planning for these runs weeks in advance?

Ok, that's not what prompted this post, it just set it up. A few weeks ago, my Twitter/Facebook buddy, Eric from St. Louis decided on close to a whim he was going to run in the Howard Aslinger 24-Hour Run. I doubt he had more than 2 weeks to have a mind/body meeting to see if this was a good idea. As far as I know, his "only" ultras in the past 3 years were 2 finishes at the Leadville 100. This was his first stab at going 24 hours straight. He did 115 miles!!! HE WON THE DAMN THING!!! I've done several 24 Hour runs in my younger past, but I remember being in a panic for months before the race.

But the tip of the Ten Gallon Hat goes to the aforementioned Suman (of Epic Run fame). Since January, he's done a couple of marathons, a couple of 50k's, and several spontaneous runs on the forest trails. So, a week before the Lake Martin 50/100 he decides this would be a good time to run his first 50 miler - a week before! He shows up the morning of race, in a total cold downpour, and decides to BUMP UP to the 100...nobody bumps up!!! He finishes 3rd overall in around 25 hours. I give up!! I'm finally convinced my way of thinking was totally flawed. Preparation is obviously wwwaaaaayyyy over-rated. Spontaneity is the name of the game now! 

Apparently, you can break the 4-minute barrier for a mile.

Apparently, you can put a man on the moon. 

Apparently, you can mix peanut butter and chocolate (yum).
Apparently, women can run and their uterus won't fall out.

And apparently, you can do ultra long runs without the fear of lack of preparation or killing yourself.

It's just switching your mindset, being realistic with your goals, believing in your talent and gene pool, and most of all, having the courage to put it out there in front of God and all humanity. Sure, you may trip a few times along the way, but when things click right...man, do they click! 

I'll see you on the always beckoning roads and trails - Al

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