Closing Thoughts on Boston '13

“When I'm about overwhelmed by all this, I take this loneliness out on the roads … to know that there is an answer even though I may never find it." - George Sheehan

It amazes me that in less than one week's time, the agents who know what they're doing can take an area filled with unspeakable horror and thousands of pieces of evidence no bigger than a potato chip, and hunt these guys down to where we have one alive who hopefully will crack and give us some useful information. Promise him the world, let him spill his guts out, then say "just kidding" and lock him up with murderers like him, except murderers that love Boston and don't like their city desecrated. 

I posted a blog the week before the marathon about how the community comes together for this annual celebration. Then, this week, I posted another blog a day after the marathon about what a shock this all was, and how impossible it is to internalize what has happened. Now that the good guys have seemed to have captured the lowlife that did this, I will post one more blog and then try to let this find it's corner, as it will in all of us, somewhere deep, but never to be forgotten. Like 9/11 and Oklahoma City, it's with us everyday. Our lives have been forced to change and will never return to the way it was. 9/11 changed the way we travel, Oklahoma City changed the way work, and this will change the way we play. Sure, we'll come back strong and say we won't let the bad guys win or change the way we live, but it's just words. Our races will have more police, and more bomb-sniffing dogs. Our backpacks and bags will be searched more carefully. Our conversations have one more "Where were you when...?" entry into a much too long list of moments that sear a memory we don't want to revisit. 

Yes, there's still much healing that has to be done, both physically and mentally. Many questions are left to be answered, but hopefully, in time these will be answered in a way that will help to prevent this from ever happening again. Maybe wishful thinking, but what can you do but think wishfully? I'm glad they caught the hell-bound villain so that there is not this uncertain cloud hanging over us, but we all know the answers to the questions we are asking will not be answered quickly. So, now we must heal ourselves. If, like me, you don't live in Boston, we won't have the daily reminders of this week, and the utter horribleness will fade. Communities like Birmingham, where I live, had a "Memorial Run For Boston" this week, and I'm sure all runs and sporting events held this weekend had a deserved moment of silence, as we should. We will wear ribbons and mementos and Boston Marathon gear to show we will never forget, but the heavy sharpness of Boston Marathon Finish Line will become a dull pit inside us.  

In the reading the many, many words written and told this week, I realized something about the magic of the Boston marathon. If you come in once a year from out of state to run this marathon, it is truly magical as is the City of Boston itself for the runner. It is always springtime and the Red Sox fever is running high as they begin their season. Everyone is in a good mood, and come raceday, of course, it's a holiday...no one goes to work or school. Instead they all come out  to run or cheer you on. They don't know you, but from Hopkinton all the way to Boston, you're a star. In this Boston, you run from town to town, up the infamous Heartbreak Hill towards the magical Bolyston Street Finish. "Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston" becomes your mantra.  But now Boylston Street will be still be a scene of celebration, but it will be a solemn celebration. Whooping and hollering at the finish line will also be done with solemn rememberence. This act didn’t just occur in Boston, it invaded the magical Boston of marathon day for all of us who have ever done it, have a realistic chance of one day qualifying, or mostly for those who close their eyes and just dream BOSTON. The theme of these days is "Boston Strong". I like the sign I saw that said "Wicked Strong".

I'll see you all on the roads. Stay Wicked Strong - AL   

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

Thoughts on Boston '13

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mothers’ words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world".- Fred Rogers

This took too long to write, and in part it’s because there really are no words to describe how I feel right now. As a marathon runner who has run the Boston Marathon 5 times and has strong familial ties to Boston, I feel I have to respond. But where are the words? Perhaps there are no words because I can't even describe to myself how I feel.

I wasn't in Boston this Patriot's Day, but I was the week before. I didn't cross the Finish Line painted on Bolyston Street on Monday, but I did the week before. I wasn't in Marathon Sports during Marathon Weekend, but I was the previous Sunday.

It's 2004, (or any one of 4 other years I ran Boston), I am struggling as is the usual Al-mode at 25+ miles. I make the right turn onto Hereford and two blocks later, make a left onto the fabled Bolyston Street. The noise echoing off the buildings is  positively deafening. Spectators are packed 8-10 deep on both sides of Bolyston and yet, above the maddening crowd I can hear "Dad, dad". I look to the right and jumping up above the first three rows of people as if on a pogo stick, is my son, Michael. All is much better with my immediate world as I head to the finish line. He is jumping in front of the Mandarin Hotel. The Mandarin Hotel is very close to where the 2nd bomb went off Monday. That extremely happy memory of a decade ago hits me in the gut today. What if...?

Why do horrible things keep tarnishing and hurting people, places and experiences we love? 

We all know what the finish line of a race symbolizes -  pride, achievement, gratitude, fortune, happiness, relief, and hard work. The finish line is where we reunite with those that care about us, and where we share our hard sought accomplishments with perfect strangers who just happen to finish in the same general time we did.  That line means so much. And now for that line to become a place of horror and carnage is surreal, disgusting, saddening, maddening. To watch that older gentleman, just feet from the finish line, get blown off his feet and to the ground was devastating.

Watch the video from the finish line again. Or like me, just replay it in your mind. Now, at the moment just before things changed, pause it. Whisper to yourself, “There’s a bomb somewhere in this picture". It's almost mesmerizing as you look into the cheering crowds waving their arms, look at the runners at their glorious moment of triumph, and well deserved relief, and look at the police and volunteers with little to do but share in all the physical happiness of the finish line. Whisper again, "There's a bomb somewhere in this picture". Then hit PLAY one frame at a time. It is so damned scary! 

Last Sunday, I was running with my friend, Larry and we both agreed that one of the things that makes running so enjoyable is that the running community is filled with genuinely good people. While running is very much an individual sport in many respects, we all strive to celebrate and triumph together, united by a common pursuit. Whether celebrating a first 5k, a PR, or a lifelong pursuit of crossing the finish line on Boylston Street, we all train, race, and celebrate together. They say bad things happen to good people. It appears more and more that bad things happen to all people. At least that's how I feel today. Part of what we celebrate inside us has been taken away.

I had many friends doing Boston this year. I thank God they are all safe. I pray for the ones who weren't as fortunate. Like I said...I have no words. I'll see you all on the roads - AL   

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

It Takes a Village to Make the Boston Marathon What It Is

"No one gets to their heaven without a fight" - Neil Peart

This past weekend, my wife & I made our somewhat bi-monthly trip up to Boston to visit my son, Michael, and his wife, Joanie. And of course, we were also visiting our very rapidly growing grandchildren, 3 1/2 year old Adam and 1 1/2 year old Emma. Holy cow, talk about energy. Ol' grandpa was pretty pooped almost every day. A game of tag in the park can turn into quite an intensive aerobic workout, although Adam didn't seemed too phased after 20 minutes straight of "you're it!". 

Usually, when our visit comes around this time of year, we'll usually finagle the schedule so it coincides with the Boston Marathon, but this year, we were just too anxious to get up there and play grandparents. I did however, get in my mandatory run on the BM course, which always includes crossing the finish line, which is painted across Bolyston Street year-round. I've done Boston 5 times, but those days are behind me and now I run on the roads full of not just my memories, but also the memories of thousands of some very special runners. As I ran down Beacon Street this year, over "Mt Kenmore", past Fenway and the famous Citgo Sign, up Hereford and down Bolyston, I had plenty of time to think about what makes Boston so special.

First of all, it's the community - it contagiously seems so involved. I’ve attended races in other large cities, such as Chicago, Atlanta, San Diego and even Disney World, but nothing comes close to the crowd and community support shown during the Boston. For example, a marathon is 26.2 miles, and in most races, it’s common for runners to come across sections of the course with no spectators, just peace and quiet (or boredom). However, during the Boston, the entire course is lined with people...I've read at least 500,000! The seven cities along the point-to-point course each will pack the course, but as you get closer to Boston, the crowd gets thicker and thicker and louder and louder. Everyone in Boston and all the towns along the race route feel as though they have some kind of ownership of the race; this is a time for them to shine on one of the world’s brightest running gems. Of course, there is that giant bulge of excitement at roughly the
 halfway point when you enter The Scream Tunnel - Wellesley College. There are few bigger thrills in marathon running then hearing the absolute billion decibel shrill from coeds holding signs begging to be kissed. The Boston Marathon starts at 10 a.m., and by the time you reach downtown, the crowds can be 10 deep. What’s especially interesting is that most of the spectators are from the local area. (Participants in the Boston Marathon must qualify within a certain time for their age group. It’s pretty competitive, so most runners are not from the surrounding areas). This race isn’t just a race; it’s a community event.   

The most amazing experiences for me at Boston always begin at the point in time when I land at Logan International Airport in Boston. As soon as I step off of the plane, I see a sudden shift in the morphology of the general population around me. First, signs greet the runners as soon as you hit the concourse. There are large billboards, banners, and motivation signs everywhere...the airport, the subways, the streets, painted on buildings, on top of taxis. Athletic folks abound all over, carrying water bottles and wearing t-shirts espousing the various running clubs or races that they have been affiliated with. To your right and left are small groups of folks chatting quietly and confidently while chewing on a Clif Bar. In truth, even before this if you are flying into Boston, you only need to look around the plane you are flying on to see hints of this already. It's exciting to be flying into a hub from anywhere USA (in my case, Birmingham, Al) to catch
 your connection to Boston. In this hub there will be hundreds, and on your plane there will be dozens of folks going to the Holy Grail of marathoning. These people need no medals swung loosely around their necks for us to understand just how talented these runners are. It isn’t the running shoes on their feet or the small duffel bag on their shoulder that gives them away.  In fact it’s in their confidence and the special stare in their eyes. What makes Boston different than any other marathon is that everyone that has qualified for this race has already done the work to get here. There is nothing left to worry about or be concerned about aside from any demons that we all continue to carry around with us in search of our next good race, and if it should be at Boston, so much the better. Boston is about celebrating your accomplishments. 

Unlike other marathons, where people wander aimlessly around the expo, the huge Boston Marathon Expo is very much business as usual, with runners getting in, and getting out as efficiently as possible. When you go to the Boston Expo, most runners know how this works because they've done this so many times before. Everyone there knows what they are capable of accomplishing. All the vendors seem to be so much more attuned to the seasoned runner and not needing to slowly guide a new runner through the maze of their wares and products. We know what they're selling and hawking. We know what we want. We want to know what's new, or where's the booth that has what we want (not necessarily need). 

The charity entries have definitely changed this atmosphere, and although I was a Team-in-Training coach for 15 years, I actually discourage folks from running Boston under a charity entry. I simply think that there’s nothing wrong with one marathon to be held aside for those age-groupers who purely by genetic gift or gut-out training have risen to this level of performance. All marathons have their personalities and Boston is no exception. The course is no joke, but it is after all, just another course, 26.2 miles long. To me what is really special about Boston is that from the moment you get off the plane till the moment you get back to the airport to go home you have a community that is singularly committed to celebrate all of the sacrifices that you made to get there and all the joy you have in your personal feat. In short, The Boston Marathon is the slam dunk of running. Not everyone can do it, but when you do, the immediate world the whole
 Boston-Metro area takes notice and you can’t help but feel that it was all worth it. 

Congratulations to all who will be participating in Boston on Monday. As always, I am humbled by your achievement. Congratulations on your journey.

Here, there, or anywhere, I'll see you all on the roads.

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

Listening to Music While Running? Foul! Two Shots!

"The future will be better tomorrow" - Dan Quayle, former Vice-president With so many marathons and ultra marathons this time of year, you may still find on some of the entry forms "Any portable device requiring an earplug will not be allowed during the race event.", however USA Track and Field has removed its prohibition on earphones as a sanction requirement. Never really understood the ban...let's face it, you're not going to get hit by a car because you're listening to AC/DC on your iPod during your race. Of course, if you're listening to AC/DC, maybe you do need a little extra help with your playlist selection (this from someone whose playlist includes Celine Dion AND Barry Manilow!!). Also, one of the reasons for the ban was that you couldn't hear instructions being shouted. Ummm, either you're running a road race where you follow the couple of thousand of runners ahead of you from Aid Station to Aid Station, or you're on the trail and there ain't anybody out there to holler anything!  The use of mechanical aids to assist a runner in moving forward is against the rules in most races, marathons, and ultramarathons. For instance, a runner will be disqualified for getting a lift in a car, taking the subway, riding a bicycle, or hopping along on a pogo stick. But, I recently read that ''Music is a legal drug for athletes," claims Dr Costas Karageorghis, an expert on the effects of music on exercise (doubt he has much competition on that "expert" tag), at Brunel University (outside London). In his latest book, Inside Sport Psychology, he claims that listening to music while running can boost performance by up to 15%. That's a whopper of an aid, but to declare it a legal Performance Enhancing Drug is, I think, stretching it a little.  Was reading ULTRARUNNER magazine the other day, and I noticed that in mountainous ultras, many runners will carry Trekking Poles. I've been thinking of getting me a pair because they can fold up like those folding canes and you can carry them in some kind of quiver in your fanny pack. Come to a big hill and you can whip these babies out like Sir Lancelot, give them a shake, and voila! - you start pumping your arms baby and all of a sudden you've made a molehill out of a mountain!  Some fools classify trekking poles as mechanical aids and ban them from their races. Remind me again -- exactly how many moving parts does a trekking pole have? Is it therefore also illegal to use the branch of a fallen tree as a walking stick? If so, is it illegal to grab rocks and branches with one's hands while climbing up a steep slope? During last year's Crusher Ridge 42k Trail "Run", Moha and I were going up what seemed like a 60% Grade incline. We both grabbed large sticks to help us get up the hill (more like to keep us from falling back down). Moha said "We must look like Moses and Joshua". So now we refer to steep climbs as "Moses & Joshua" hills. But it's not my purpose in this post to argue in favor of trekking poles. Rather, I would like to consider for a moment whether the iPod (and similar mp3 devices) give you, the runner, an unfair advantage, making us a low profile Lance Armstrong! Should the iPod be declared an illegal mechanical device? It has two buttons and a spinning disk drive, which makes it considerably more complex than a trekking pole, and could be classified, according to the famous Dr. Karageorghis, as a drug delivery system, in that playing good music is known to stimulate the production of endorphins and adrenalin which assist to make a runner, or any other athlete,  perform faster, higher, stronger (to steal the Olympic Motto). I began running with a Sony radio many years ago, listening to anything that was being broadcast. During March Madness one year, I was running a 24 Hour Run in Atlanta, and literally listened to 4-5 games in a row. I didn't have the foggiest idea what teams were playing, but it did keep my addling mind occupied. I guess it was all those drugs flowing through my arteries! Now, with my mp3 player, I listen to mostly podcasts. Haven't read any studies that say listening to podcasts help your running, so I'm still clean. Now, I'm afraid I'll feel like I'm dealing from a dark corner if I dare listen to Gordon Lightfoot singing about the Canadian Railroad. But, think of the possibilities: You could sabotage someone else's race by erasing all the good music on his iPod and substituting tracks of Enya, bringing the listener way, way down. You'd be able to beat him walking on your hands. But some people would probably think that would be cheating. Kinda like a Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan thing, just less violent. Maybe the only solution is to ban iPods entirely. No warm-ups with them, no races with them, no cool-downs with them. But, let's keep the Trekking Poles...they may be an illegal aide, but they look so cool. And please, let's not even begin to talk about the added advantage I get from my Hokas with all that extra cushioning. I'm a Hoka addict and I'm not giving them up...and I'm not going to Hoka Anonymous. Just a wrapup from last week. If you read this blog a week ago, you'll remember I apologized to all the Indiana basketball fans because I picked them to win it all in my March Madness bracket. Well, as sure as the sun coming up, the Mighty Hoosiers went down in flames Thursday night. So, the Prognosticator-Al saga continues. To give you a clear picture of how well I'm doing, out of 384 players in my league, I'm sitting at a pretty #316. I'm still beating the "Alphabetical" bracket and the "Coin Flip" bracket. It's a good thing I know this stuff or I'd really be embarrassing myself. I hope you all have a great Easter this weekend. And we can talk about who I think will win the World Series this year when I see you on the roads - AL   "One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

The Start: Flyovers, Conch Shells, and Big Guns

"We have great outside shooters. Unfortunately all our games are indoors" - Weldon Drew, Basketball Coach Here it is, just Saturday afternoon, and I'm sitting here watching basketball for pure entertainment purposes only. My bracket, which two days ago seemed to be perfect, now resembles something from a new movie called "The Anti-Bracket". It looks like some hillbilly took a shotgun to it and blasted holes in it. If an independent observer viewed my picks, he'd ask himself if I really understood that the object was to pick the WINNERS of the games, and not the losers! Ok, granted NOBODY in the wide world picked Harvard to win (even Obama didn't pick them - AND HE WENT THERE!) and who even heard of Florida Gulf Coast University? I'll bet Georgetown doesn't forget them any time soon!. My locks lost, my bracket-busters lost, and I'm sitting at about #282 in a pool of almost 400 players. Not real bad, but like I said, I thought this year, I had the perfect bracket! Sorry all you Indiana fans, but I picked the Hoosiers to win it all, so they're doomed! Ok, on to some running thoughts. Just like everyone else, I get worn down by our so-called leaders in Washington. I'm not picking sides (at least not revealing it here), but these jokers leader-pretenders couldn't put together a two-piece puzzle. I haven't seen this much dysfunction ever, and I'm from an Italian family! But, this is not a political blog by any stretch of anybody's imagination, so how does this fit in with running? Here's how: The other day I heard that due to this ridiculousness called sequestration, the Blue Angels would have to drastically reduce their show appearances and big-event flyovers - hence the running connection. I saw them once. It was at the Blue Angel Marathon in Pensacola, Florida back in the late 90's (No, they didn't use Bi-planes back then). There were a few hundred of us anxiously waiting for the start. The Race Director stood on a high wooden pedestal shouting out last minute instructions that nobody was listening to. Finally, he said "One minute to the start" and I heard someone in the crowd yell "There they are". Looking across Pensacola Bay, you could barely make out a small group of Fighter Jets flying in the opposite direction of the way we were standing. The RD says "45 seconds". The fighters continue to fly south with us facing north. "30 seconds"...the fighters make a hard left turn in unison. "20 seconds"...another hard left. Now, they're coming right at us, but still a "fer distance away". Then, the RD starts counting down, "10...9...8...the jets are bearing down...7...6...5...the jets are in a PERFECT diamond formation what seemed like feet above the ground...4...3...2...and then the most amazing beginning to any race I have ever run...1...ZERO...at exactly "0", the jets flew directly (and I mean DIRECTLY) over our heads and we were off ready to take on the world. I swear, they couldn't have been more than 100 feet over us. The roar of the engines was deafening. You could feel the sudden gust of wind they created. The site, the sound, the pride, all wrapped up in a roll of mass patriotism. What an incredible moment. The Blue Angels buzzed the runners for about the first 7 miles of the race and then they were gone back to their base and back to the recesses of my memories. Man, that was cool! So, while I was running the other morning, this got me thinking along another (though related) track. What were some of the other memorable starts to races I've done? I started rattling around in my head most of the 100+ marathons and ultras I had run and it seems like every other run is begun with some RD raising his arm, saying "Runner's set...go!" and either firing a phoney gun, or sounding an extra-loud air horn, or someother non-discript way of beginning the race. There's just little originality in this relative mundane part of racing.  Gary Cantrell, a decades long RD of Ultras in Tennessee had a couple of unique starts...for The Strolling Jim 40 Miler, one race began when he lit his cigarette! Not totally acceptable in the world of running, but it was unique. Another race, he began by blowing through a conch shell...runners from Tahiti would have felt right at home. And at a third Strolling Jim, he merely took off his tattered Cowboy hat and dropped it to the ground sending us on our way. Better than a starter's pistol. For a flashy start, I guess Disney would have to claim #1 with their fireworks display. The race begins before the sun rises, making it pretty spectacular, especially since it goes on literally while all 15,000 runners file under the starting "bridge" where all the Disney characters are jumping up and down.  Finally, completing this circle of memorable starts, we have to go back to a Patriotism theme. The first time I ran the Marine Corps marathon in Washington DC, I was so impressed by all the air of nationalism that you feel the whole time. Like I said, we all get tired of the pettiness that goes on between those guys that WE elected, but take a trip to Washington and tell me your chest doesn't expand with a little extra pride. Like Winston Churchill said "It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried". Anyway, here we are, standing at the starting line of the Marine Corps Marathon. The National Anthem is sung by the Marine Corps Band and Choir will get you charged up by itself, but then the RD counts down to ZERO and this huge 105mm Howitzer Cannon fires in the general direction of the Washington Monument (a blank shell I hope, for two reasons...if not, there's a planning problem AND the marines are a terrible shot). Anyway, the BOOM from that cannon will shake your timbers to the core. You literally feel the sound concussion on your chest. Then you run a marathon! Wow! I would love to hear some of your starting memories. Just write them in the comment section below. No matter how you start them, I'll continue to attempt to line up and I'll see you on the roads - AL "One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

Reflections on an Oak Mt Day in the Woods

"But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too" - Landslide, Stevie Nicks

Let's face it, I just love to be out there. Back in the day (man, I hate that term), I used to be in the upper third at races of all distances. I would put in 50-60 miles a week and pretty much all of my training runs were laced with the background goal of being a little faster than whoever I was running with. You'd be loping along, talking about the Braves, or the weather, or whatever, when suddenly you noticed that your sentences weren't flowing as smoothly, you were breathing heavier, and your legs were being filled with cocktails of lactic acid. The pace shifted, as it always did, and you sped towards home anaerobically, wherever home was.  But time moves on, and the training gets slower, the races get slower, and the competitiveness wanes. But, still the love of the run is still there. And the love of the LONG run is where most of that love lies. If I can physically make the distance, then time takes a back seat. Not happily, but agreeably...a compromise...I'll give you distance, but I'll take some of your time...deal!! And so, after 5 years of volunteering due to non-cooperative ankles, I decided to enter the Oak Mountain Trail 50k for the 1st time since 2007 this past weekend. My goal was to simply finish. I usually don't like to write race reports...I've read many good ones, but just don't feel like I write very good ones...so, what follows are some of my memories, though with my fading mind...maybe I should have written this earlier in the week. The course comprises each of the four major trails in the park and on each trail, there is a major hill. Over the 31+ miles there is over 4000 feet of elevation gain. Is that a lot? I don't know, but it felt like a lot. The problem is most of the hills are steep grades and not mamby-pamby inclines. These legs used used to find a (slow) groove and trot up the hills, but now, there's a lot of walking involved. No big deal, but it just takes longer. When you're flat-out tired, but running, 16 minute miles feel like you're flying. But you know what...falling sucks, and falling twice in one mile sucks twice as much. Lots of banana peels on these trails (banana peels are what my buddy, Moha, and I call roots, rocks, ruts, etc - anything that can trip you up). One good thing is I'm going so slow, so I sorta fall in slow motion and unless I crack against a rock, I really don't worry about getting hurt. Despite the two tumbles, I was moving relatively well until at 13 miles when you hit Peavine Falls. You literally have to climb down a 15% rocky grade 2/10ths of a mile to the bottom of the falls, traverse the 30' water crossing, and then climb back up the 2/10ths rocky 15% grade on the other side. Fifteen minutes later, at the top of the climb, with my hands on my knees, I looked at Moha and said "Well, we're almost halfway there!" and cried inside. It would have been so easy to get to the next aid station and convince myself that a 14 mile run on a beautiful day was something to be thankful for. Without belaboring a description of the rest of the race, I did keep remembering an interview I heard with one of my true running heroes, David Goggins. He's an ex-Navy Seal who's career I've been following for years. Read about him, or better yet, view some of his videos on youtube (here's a good one). Essentially, he's an amazing athlete with an incredible mental tenacity that all of us wish we had, and he puts this tenacity to work raising money for the Wounded Warrior Project. Anyway, in this interview, he said something to the effect of "When you think you are done, you are like 40% into what your body is capable of doing. That's just the limits we put on ourselves". So, with that in my mind, I trudged on, and I mean "trudged". If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that I have no better friend than my long-lost brother, Moha. We have put in tons of miles on the road and on the trail together. We've been there for each other if one of us falters, but it seems he's supporting me much more than the other way around. I did have to laugh though, as we were climbing a 2.5 mile hill on the Red Trail, I said to Moha "I'm sorry I'm slowing us down so much". Without missing a beat, Moha says, "I'm going into the woods and find a big stick to beat the sh*t out of you". Gotta love a good friend! And so, we huffed and puffed and ran and walked and finally made it to the finish line, BUT IT WAS THE FINISH LINE, and that was the goal. Only a runner who reaches an official finish line knows the special feeling it brings and I especially enjoyed this one. I really don't mind keeping my time with a sundial these days. Actually, I may have to do this as my very unpredictable Nike+ GPS battery gave up the ghost 6:41 into the race - so much for the advertised 8 hour battery! More on that in another blog. I guess either watch batteries need to improve or I need to run faster. Let's send a text to the new Pope to pray for the watch battery. One final note...how the hell can anyone in their right mind ever take an ice bath? The night of the OM50, my ankles were barking pretty good, so I decided to dunk them in the bathtub jacuzzi we have. I filled a big pot full of ice, grabbed a magazine, a cup of coffee, planning to plop my feet in this ice bath and sit on the side of the tub. I filled the tub half full with just cold water and plunged them in. Now, mind you, I haven't even put the ice in yet!! Holy Crap!! My ankles felt like James Caan's in the movie Misery when Kathy Bates gave his ankles a horrific whack with a sledge hammer. Thirty seconds and out. Thought about what a tough guy I am and plunged them back in...my God, I didn't know you could get an Ice Cream headache in your feet. Thirty more seconds and that experiment was OVER!! Drained the tub, poured out the ice, grabbed my coffee and put on my Smartwools. Ryan Hall and Ken Harkless can have their icebaths. They must be missing an evolutionary part of their brain! Actually, it did help me take my mind off my ankle pain, so I guess it served it's purpose. Whew! As I said, I love to be out there, and so far, the pluses still far outweigh the negatives, so I'll keep going as long as they keep the finish line open. Do I expect better results? That would be nice, but on 25-30 miles/week, probably not. Will I push past that 40% mental barrier? I hope I'm strong enough. Will Moha beat the sh*t out of me? I doubted, but we will always be there for each other, and that in itself makes it all worthwhile. Will I EVER take an ice bath again? Not in this lifetime! And so another chapter ends, but the book continues to be written. And one of the most important parts is I'll see you all on the road - AL "One child lost is too many...one child saved can change the world"

Thoughts of a Pre-dawn Runner

"Genetics loads the gun, but lifestyle pulls the trigger" - Caldwell B. Esselstyn

If you keep up the habit of running early in the morning long enough, you may pick up some interesting behaviors, display some personality quirks, and notice some things normal-time runners may not observe. I've been running early (I mean real early) in the pre-dawn hours (see what I mean by real early) for several years now. It was sorta forced on me by changes of my job venue. I used to run at noontime for over two decades, but when I changed to a different PT clinic in our Orthopedic/Rehab practice, I wasn't forced to run before work, but I felt it was only fair to my colleagues and patients to make the change since there was no shower. It was bad enough that at my former clinic after running at noon in the Alabama summer, I would come back after showering to see my 1:00 patient still sweating like I had Malaria. Doesn't instill much confidence to the patients that you're asking, "So, what brings you in today?" while you're toweling your face off and sweating through your shirt.

I grudgingly switched to setting the alarm at 4:30am, hopping (ha!!) out of bed, brushing my teeth, shaving, putting my running clothes on and be on the road by 4:50 (or 5:00 in the winter - more clothes!). I can usually tell in the first 10 steps if my ankles and muscles are going to enjoy this run, or if I'm going to literally drag my butt around the 4+ miles of Hoover streets for 45 minutes (or 50 minutes if my body really balks). But, now it's a habit, and even on the weekend, I look forward to an early start so I have an early finish. Along the way, I noticed that I have developed certain behaviors, traits, whatever...just a different perspective on running from...um...later-time runners! Here are a few of those observations.

1. I consider 6am "sleeping in". If there is a Saturday or Sunday where I don't have a run planned, I still get up early, make coffee, read the paper, watch English soccer on TV, and wonder to myself "What's wrong with you?". Even if I want to force myself to sleep late, my body gets me up before 7 anyway.

2. I always get my running clothes out the night before. Don't want to be seen (if I could be seen) with mis-matched socks, you know. Winter is more of a challenge because when it gets below 30 degrees, I pile the layers on. This decision making would be too much of an early morning process, so by bedtime, it's ready to go. I never do this much fretting with my work clothes!

3. I run the same route every weekday morning. Most know-it-all magazines say to vary your route, but I find the same route comforting to me. Plus I know instinctively where the road suddenly dips or has a rise. With my finely tuned nimbleness as I get older and my ankles getting stiffer, this is definitely a plus.

4. I also notice that I have no idea what the names are of some of the streets are that I run by each morning. It's too dark to see the street signs. What's with that? 

5. I know the sound of the Newspaper delivery cars. One that goes by me has a pretty defective muffler that I can hear a (figurative) mile away. Normally, that would be irritating, but as he passes me, he gently taps his horn. If I could see him, he's probably waving too.

6. I know the sprinkler schedule for most homes along my route. I can't see the water from the sprinkler, but through being "kicked by the mule" more than once, I know where they are. Nothing like getting spritzed halfway through your dark, cold, winter 40 degree run. Greatly diminishes the relaxation aspect of the run!

7. I can deftly reset my mp3 player by the dim High-pressure Sodium street light hues I run under (not sure about that "pressure sodium" stuff, but I think I read that once). 

8. I HATE the sound (real or imagined) of dogs when all I can see is dark. A squirrel-sized mutt becomes a stalking coyote. Dogs can see better than me, so I just go into my "throwing the fake rock" act and they usually retreat (at least the sound seems to retreat).

9. If I get out early enough on the weekend, I can actually complete my run, shower, and take a quick (mostly unintentional) nap before my wife wakes up. Plus, I'm usually ready for some leftover pizza or pasta by 10am!

10. One big drawback...if you miss your morning run, you have the whole day to feel guilty and fat, whereas, if you're an after work runner, in a couple of hours, you'll be sound asleep.

And so, another day dawns. Al has gotten his run in. The world will stay on it's axis for another 24 hours at least. 

Unless it's too dark, I'll see you on the roads - AL 

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