Virgin Marathon - The Race

Where did the time go?  I thought I had more time.  How can I be running a marathon tomorrow?  I don't know if I'm nervous or excited.  Excited would be good, nervous will make me constipated.  Oh God I hope I'm excited.  These thoughts ran through my mind the night before my first marathon.  That night when you want to sleep but you can't.  Everything runs through your mind and try as you might, you can't keep any of it out.  Self doubt knocks on your door.  I look over to the sofa and see my running gear laid out just waiting for me.  I take comfort in that.  They are like Harry Potters wand to me.  Remember that moment in the movie when he gets his wand?  The room glows, wind blows, and we all know the wand is a perfect match, exactly the one he needs.  He will do great things with that wand.  My choice of running gear was similar.  Not that the room glowed and the wind blew when I pulled on my underwear, but my last long run was perfect.  As soon as I got home I stripped down, washed everything, and set it aside for marathon day.  I knew I had my "wand".  Weird but it gave me a sense of comfort.

I knew I was well trained.  As with all my previous attempts at a new distance, I had leaned on Sharon for a training plan.  All of them had been hard but this one actually freaked me out a little.  The mileage was daunting.  I knew two things.  The first being that if I followed this plan I would be able to complete the marathon.  The second was that it would kick my ass and push me beyond anything I had ever done.  I wondered at 54 if it too late to attempt this, too late to try and push my body and ask it yet again to give me a little more.  With some anxiety I decided to go for it.  I'm proud to say that I only missed one workout the entire 5+ months.  At the same time there were plenty of runs I thought would never end, many I didn't want to do, all I was glad to finish.  My finishers medal belongs as much to her as it does to me.

The alarm wakens me.  3:30am.  We get up and slowly get coffee and oatmeal going.  Tripping over each other in a hotel room the size of a prison cell.  It didn't help that Sharon brought multiple bags and her own latte machine, nor the dozen donuts, bags of chips, and candy bars we bought the night before somehow thinking that we'd eat it.  Food and drink down, we heading to the shuttle.  Rain was pouring down and by the time we arrived at the shuttle we were soaked.  We were dropped off at an unheated airplane hangar where we waited for 90 minutes for the marathon to start.  Nerves required more pee trips than I wanted but it was what it was.  Before I knew it we were heading out to the starting line.

3....2....1...and we were off.  I remember looking up at the huge inflatable start sign as we ran under and then past it.  I was running a marathon!  It felt amazing.  Every sacrifice, every mile, every minute of training was now in the past and I was actually doing this.  It's impossible to describe the feeling.

Five miles or so in Sharon says we'll keep our pace and catch the 4 hour pace group at the mid way point and see how it goes from there.  If felt effortless at this point so I gave her a "cool" and on we ran.  By the time we hit mile 8 Sharon had stopped twice to work on her IT band.  That fricker was acting up on her and we begin to worry it was going to be a show stopper.  By mile 11 she was done.  Her knee had gone out.  At that moment she did what few athletes who have trained six months for a single event do, she decided to pull out.  I know it was the hardest yet smartest decision she could have made.  Six months of training, a life saving surgery, and she was running a marathon.  Kind of makes you want to put that bag of chips back in the cupboard.  We walked to a couple police officers explained the situation and asked if one would drive her back to the hotel.  They agreed and she looked at me and said run, you can do this.  I slowly ran off as she stepped into the car.  I felt like shit.

I was now running with strangers, alone yet people around me.  My pace was good, fueling on target, and now passing mile marker 12, next thing I knew I passed the 17 mile marker.  My hip was getting sore and I couldn't seem to pass a honey bucket without having to pee but all was good.  That is until my left calf begin to cramp.  I ran though as much as I could but it became clear that I needed to stop and work it out.  Unfortunately that became routine throughout the rest of the race.  Mile 23 was new territory and my body knew it.  Maybe it was mental but the road became like quicksand.  Each step hurt and it begin to feel like I was running up a down escalator.  I focused on running to a point on the road, the next telephone pole.  One at a time.  Each one seemed to pull away from me yet I was moving forward.  By mile 24 I honestly thought I'd never make it.  I had been insane and now I knew it to be true.  Up another hill and then marker 25 was going by and I knew I was close.  Rounding the corner and looking down the road I saw Sharon and her family out there waiting for me.  They were so excited their energy revived me and soon I was rounding the corner, passing mile maker 26 and the finish line was dead ahead.  Spectators sticking their hands out for high fives and screaming encouragement.  What a feeling to run across that line.  I had done it.  I was a marathoner.  I am a marathoner.

Shortly after finishing my phone was buzzing with folks wondering what my time was.  I learned a lot during this marathon.  I witnessed many a runner struggling to put one foot in front of another yet always moving forward, runners helping other runners rub out a cramp, runners giving encouragement when passed or passing.  Not all that started finished.  I learned that time is not important.  The journey is what's important and I wouldn't trade my journey or my partner for the world.  To my family and friends, I thank you for the support and encouragement you shared.  Your words helped carry me forward on many a day I didn't think I could or would.  Finally to answer the question will I run another, I simply share that I am happily looking for future race dates....for 5k's...

Virgin Marathon Part II

Halfway there!  It's hard to believe that I'm less than three months away from my first marathon.  In fact I have but a short 12 weeks to go.  I'm at the point in my training where every week is new territory, be it the daily mileage or the long runs.  The feeling I have is strange  because I'm nervous yet excited for each new week.  Some of that is the challenge of what I can actually accomplish but mixed with the emotions and doubt that creep in when I look too far forward in my training plan and see the 18 and 20 milers and the weekly miles rising high on the horizon. 

There are many pros so far. I'm running more days and more miles than ever before and (let's all knock on wood) I'm injury free.  Sure I have that ache here and there but I'm also 54 years old and still manage to find a pimple stopping by to say hi from time to time.  I've not missed a single run nor have I been unable to complete one.  I find it much like a job.  You know what needs to be done so show up early, give that little extra, and take pride in a good day's work, or in this case a successful run.  The support I am getting is tremendous. I'm not sure how anyone can do this without it. I'm grateful for it. The most surprising thing however has to be that I have found that I love running with a partner.  I had become a loner on the road, running with my ipod and not wanting to be bothered.  Now I look forward to it and from time to time there are 3-4 of us.

There are some cons.  I never seem to have enough Vaseline.  While I use it like crazy, places that shouldn't be raw tend to be raw.  In turn I walk like I've been riding a horse and now have a phobia about having my nipples face directly into the shower.  My running shoes are dead and the second pair were purchased  a couple weeks ago - pair number three is happening next week.  I'm losing weight yet always hungry and those 20,000 pushups I did no longer show the effect they once did.  I'm also now waking up at 3:30 in order to get my workout in before work.  That I don't mind as much as the gym is empty and my favorite treadmill untouched.

Sharon's training plan has been great so far - not easy but great. Saturdays are up to 16 miles and Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday are 7 miles each.  The pace isn't fast but I'm training for distance and not for speed this time.  As mentioned, I'm enjoying the Saturdays run now that she's running with me. We talk but she knows when I need quiet to push up a hill or simply finish the next mile or two in a distance I've never ran.  Last week I was dying on the last mile and my form was shot to shit.  I know she was telling me to straighten up, drop my shoulders, and something about my stride.  I looked at her and thought "I might be dead right now, just want to get home, exhausted, nipples hurt" but I smiled and mumbled "thank you".  That girl gives me no slack and pushes me every week.  That's exactly what I need though I might not always communicate it.

12 weeks to go.  Hundreds of miles.  All for the chance to complete 26.2 in May without failure.  Sounds silly doesn't it?  What's sillier is that the 26.2 will probably mean more to me that all the miles that lead up to the marathon.  I hope not.  I hope I look back at the journey instead.  Time will tell, right now I need to go find some more Vaseline.

Virgin Marathon Part I

I'm going to run a marathon.  Ok, I said it, it's out there now. Now it's law. Stating my intentions publicly has a way of adding a higher degree of accountability to the statement, or in this case, the event.  When I first shared that I was committed to completing a marathon, the more popular question flying back to me was simply "Why?".  It's a bit of a difficult question (as most easy questions can be).  My first response is that I've ran and competed in many events since my first 5k in 2006. I remember that 5K like it was yesterday.  I walked often....I ran often....I hated that I couldn't complete the distance without some walking.  Fact is most people don't know that it wasn't until my fourth race that I finally ran the entire distance without stopping.  3.1 miles felt like running to the moon.

Since then I've competed in many distances; 2 mile, 5k, 8k, 10k, 15k, half marathon, triathlon relays, duathlon, and a 24 hour 187 mile relay with 5 others.  In all, 52 races since 2006. The marathon distance was noticeably missing.  Plug the hole I say.  The reason could also be when asked about my running, folks always ask if I've run a marathon - like running a marathon is the one thing that makes you a runner.  I reply no I haven't and hear an oooooohh with a look on their face of disappointment and sadness.  Poor Mikey hasn't run a marathon. Oh well, maybe someday he'll be a runner.  Thank you my pork rind,  donut eating, chip munching,  candy sucking, runs only when the dinner bell rings judge. You actually make me feel bad. You shouldn't but you do. I train hard for my events and I don't like being discounted for not doing something, especially something on the magnitude of a marathon. Only one tenth of one percent of the population will run a marathon while 26.2% of the population were obese in 2012. Interesting that that obese percentage matches the number of miles in a marathon. Geez I sound angry.  I'm not of course, though re-reading my blog so far, I am a tad judgmental.  A tad. Running a marathon might also be because I like to challenge myself and as a 54 year old closing in on 55, I figure I best tackle this before I get too much older!  I plan on writing about my journey over a few blogs, the final of course to recap the race itself.  It's a bit of a diary that I can look back on and remember the journey, the ups and downs, the celebrations and support, and unfortunately some possible moments when I felt like I couldn't do it.

After making the decision to run, I made the next best decision - I called Sharon.  She has trained me through most distances and while her training plans suck fish butt, if you follow them and I mean follow them, you will perform.  You will dislike her often and praise her infrequently.  She knows her stuff and tailors the program to the individual. Looking backs over various training periods, I've thrown up, clutched my chest, nearly passed out, and learned to keep my inhaler close. She has however always gotten me to the finish line. I'm counting on that once again.

I admit I'm nervous about this journey because it will take me to distances I've never even entertained, push my running to more days a week that I've done in forever, and should I fail I hate to think of how it will affect me.  I'm now running Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday at 5:00am and my long run on Saturday.  The morning run required finding how to adjust my morning routine. Poop if you will. Knocking out  2 miles of your 4 mile run and getting "that feeling" is uncomfortable.  Do you try and run through it or jump off the treadmill and hurry back?  "Excuse me" you say to the person on the treadmill next to you, "would you watch my stuff, I have to ah...I ah...gotta poop". My goal is to avoid this...next time anyway.

I believe my body is getting used to the 4 day a week running plan and thus far the mileage has been within my experience range.  This week my weekday mileage jumps a little and Saturday become 14.  This is the point where I begin to move into uncharted territory. The point where I'll have to push myself to levels I once thought insane.  During many of these times I will think of you. So many of you have gone through personal trials that in comparison make the marathon seem easy.  You'll give me inspiration without knowing it. I thank you in advance for that and for reminding me to never give up.  I will be that one tenth of one percent and though I may run alone, I never will be...

Deja Vu

Rode my bike today.  Thank you for that thunderous applause - yes it was quite something.  I've never been much of a rider, but then again, I've never really given it much of a chance.  Lately however I've felt a renewed sense of fitness.  I'm part of this crazy knock out 20,000 pushups this year program - that likely deserves its own blog, or at least a sentence scratched out on the side of a bathroom stall "went at it hard, knocked it out, feeling pumped".  Ok, that may not be the best place for it.  My running is improving.  I'm actually doing all those stupid time intensive preventative exercises that no one does until they get injured.  At that moment every one of us thinks to ourselves "I should have been doing them all along".  Guilty.  Slap me in irons captain.  Better yet force me to do some squat jumps, donkey kicks, clam shells, and a host of other funked out exercises that make you look like a freak yet honestly can save you weeks if not months of rehab - not to mention avoiding the "I told you running was bad for you" look one gets from non-running non exercising gluten eating sugar pumping....sorry, got a bit carried away.  Anyhow, for the last couple weeks I'm getting in two 10 milers and a long run on Saturday.

My diet has also improved. I've since sent an apology letter to Hershey's, Ben & Jerry's, and Hostess. If you own stock in these companies please also accept my sincere apology.  Tip of the day - invest in spinach.  I love baby spinach - mostly because I can get the entire leaf in my mouth without having to cut it, fold it, jab it three times so it sits just right on my fork.  If you have spinach salad recipes, email me!

Sharon and I drove to the Centennial trail. Yes, we're quite green you know, driving an SUV so we can enjoy a ride in the clean crisp air. Don't judge me, I recycle. No sooner than we got on the bikes did we see the our partners in fitness just getting back from their ride. It was so good to see them, catch up, and have a few laughs. They are really good people.  But time is money or in this case miles, so we were off.  We did an out and back and the ride out held no surprises.  My quads began to burn and the bike seat as it does so often, played peak-a-boo with my ass.  I allow Sharon the luxury of drafting behind me on the way out. In turn I could draft behind her on the way back.  I could if however I was able to keep up with her.

Today was no different.  She was a good quarter of a mile ahead of me but luckily her and a couple other riders were stopped at a traffic signal which turned in our favor just as I pulled up.  I had momentum so quickly passed a young man and pedaled on.  Sharon quickly rode up and in moments was well ahead.  The young man also caught up as I heard an "on your left" as he flew past.  Off he went pedaling quickly until he came upon Sharon.  On my what happened then was a deja vu.  The guy starts riding past her, looks over, then slows down next to her.  Yes, off they rode into the sunset chatting back and forth as I fell further and further behind.  This happened in Chelan some time back and hard as I tried, I never caught up.  Today would be different my friends.  Today I had my renewed sense of fitness, Power bar drink, and I had successfully wrangled my ass free of the seat.  I was on a mission.  Head down and legs pumping hard I rode.  Today I would not be denied.  My God they are really moving.  How are they doing that?   I am now riding fast, my legs a blur, yelling "on your left" to every walker I passed.  Holy shit, I'm catching them.  I'm weaving around everyone shifting gears like a madman.  50 yards away, 30...10...I'm right behind them.  I slide to the left and yell out "on your left" as I pass them both.  Victory!  Or so I thought.  They were slowing down for the upcoming stop sign....gads.  What the heck, I had caught up and found that the young man was really much older and was riding from Canada to Mexico.  I tip my hat to him.  We chatted at the rest area and he told us about an energy drink that makes your lips buzz as soon as the liquid hits them.  I'm withholding the name to try it first just in case it's a real advantage :)  Next Saturday I'm racing with the Giant as part of a 2 person Triathlon relay team.  Can't wait for that and to once again see some of my good friends at the event.

Hell Run

I debated writing down my thoughts regarding today's run because I don't want to sound like I'm complaining.  However I am so frustrated that I'm hoping it works like a good therapist - lie on the couch and spill your most inner feelings, get up, write a check for $300 and go home feeling better.  If you know me you know that I am fiscally responsible thus this blog - cost $0.

There was nothing unusual about my morning pre run routine. I'm a little boring that way.  Bowl of Cheerios and a cup of coffee, visit the bathroom (thank you coffee), take a couple hits off my various inhalers, set the timer for 20 minutes (giving the inhaler time to work), greet my firm black roller and let it do its thing to wake up my legs, calves, and back. From there it's the iPod, Garmin, fuel belt, shoes, gang banger beanie, and so forth. Timer goes off and I'm ready to walk out the front door. Today was well, just that.

On the docket was a slow 12 mile loop that I have done before. The first 3 miles were without incident though I noticed the wind was at my back so part of the loop would be into the wind.  By mile 4 the wind was hitting me dead on and I felt myself slow. No big deal, it's long slow run day. I'll note here that the wind was in my face for the remaining  miles...Another half mile or so and I was feeling a little off but that feeling can come and go as a runner regardless of your distance so I plugged forward.  Safeway is just beyond mile 7 and a regular pee stop, again, today was no different.  I'm back on the road swinging past Fred Meyer when stomach cramps hit me like a brick thrown at your gut. Holy shit, I could barely run upright and I'm 5 miles from home.

Many a runner gets cramps and we simply hope at some point - sooner than later - we slip out a little gas. No such luck, Mr. Fart did not have my address apparently. My gait is now affected because I cannot stand tall no matter how hard I try. 4 miles to home and I'm barely moving - the fetal position sounds real good right now.  I'm now passing Lowes when my calves begin to cramp up. Yes, both of them.  Between my stomach and my calves I can't seem to run straight and look like a drunk runner.  I thought about stopping and walking but I knew there was an end result that would come from those stomach cramps and I wanted to be home for that.

I could see Starbucks ahead and from there I was less than two miles from home. The closer I got the more I knew I needed to stop and hit the can. My fuel drink was ready to let loose and I had to stop. I walk through the door of this very busy Starbuck and who arrives?  Yes, Mr. Fart.  He simply had a mind of his own and was quite vocal as I made my way through the crowd to the bathroom.  He continued to speak to whomever would listen as I left and stepped onto the sidewalk to finish my journey.

The first couple steps assured me that my calves would continue kick my butt the rest of the run. To my surprise however was the back left side of my left knee. It too decided that it would deliver constant pain for the next two miles. I'm sure this was due to how I was running for the past 3-4 miles as I have never had any trouble in the past.  I made it home. That was 3 hours ago and I have said hello to the john many times, currently have ice on my left knee, and am sipping water.

A non runner might read this and say this is exactly why they don't run and running is stupid.  That is fine as long as they swallow the donut first as it's impolite to talk with one's mouth full.  A runner might read this and say, yup, had a day like that once myself, but the hundreds of other days that are pure bliss make it all worthwhile. After purging my thoughts through this blog I'd have to agree with the runner. Though I wouldn't mind a donut....

Seattle Hot Chocolate 15K

Today was a good day. I ran a 15k. In fact what started out to be a “fun run” turned out to be something quite a bit more. It slowly became more about what I really had inside. I surprised myself today with what I found. I should step back and remind us all that 2012 wasn’t my best running season. For whatever reason I was always trying to make a comeback. Silly boy. I had my share of oddities that kept me from training my best and in turn, giving my best. In December I decided to step back and start over. My training consisted of one run a week – a long one on Saturday, lifting weights, and deciding that doing 20,000 pushups in 2013 would be a good idea. By the way, we now have 61 people pumping out those pushups. I’ve been eating better too, although stick a bag of chips in front of me and you won’t see my head for a good fifteen minutes. Then it pops out and my face is covered with Lays, Cheetoes, or whatever the bag used to contain. So today’s 15k was going to be just another slow long run.

I had the utmost pleasure of running with Sharon and Jessica. Me and two pretty girls – must be the pushups I’m doing. Regardless, I was a lucky man. Anyway, Sharon is recovering from a heart procedure six weeks ago and Jessica hasn’t knocked out this many miles in some time so I figured we’d be running abreast. Reality was however that the only time we were side by side was waiting for the race to start. That wonderful time in the corral when you wait for your group to be released. We were cold and shivering and the anticipation of the run lingered in front of us. I had then decided to rub my crotch because ever since surgery last year, it seems to bother me when I run and a little rub on the right appears to do the trick. This of course was the exact moment the girl in front of me decided to turn around. Ah yes, hello, oh yes the crotch thing…well you know…oh I guess you don’t. We’re were all laughing and since I don’t really look like, well, one of “those guys”, she smiled and turned away. Shortly after our corral was released and we were off.

Sharon, Jessica, and I ran together for the first mile and as the norm, they were soon inching their way ahead of me. More like by the yard then the inch. I found myself watching them run, ponytails swishing back and forth, seemingly to move ahead effortlessly. In a moment they were gone. Invisible yet out there in the crowd somewhere. Poor me, alone again. The runner inside wanted to catch up and find them but the realist knew it would never happen. I decided to stay the course, maintain my plan, my strategy.

My plan was simple, run as if it was my normal long slow run and at the turnaround point (mile 6), pick up the pace if I was feeling up to it. Well hells bells this course had some mighty hills – long mighty hills. I hadn’t planned on that. Pushing myself uphill I would stare at a orange construction cone until I met it and quickly shift my eyes to the next one. At one point the hill was huge and I decided not to look up until I had passed 30 cones. At 31 I looked up. Damn, the top of the hill was at least 100+ cones further. I chatted with a few folks and the time passed more quickly. Suddenly I see Sharon coming back down the hill on the other side. A quick wave and I felt energized. I yelled out “trade places with me” which my fellow hill runners around me thought was way funnier than it really was however it helped get us up and over. Soon I turned the corner at the six mile mark and honestly I was feeling fine. Air was coming easy and I was smiling. I kicked it up a notch and decided to put the hammer down until I crossed the finish line. My legs were heavy but they kept up with the rest of me – good thing or it would have been ugly. I crossed the finish line blowing my planned time out of the water, nearly 90 seconds a mile faster than I had been running. I found Sharon and Jessica both of whom had finished some time ago and already had their post run treats. Hugs and kisses all around. I don’t have the official times but the girls rocked this race and it was time to celebrate. While we stretched The Creeper came over and was chatting with Jessica. He was the Creeper because of the way he’d been following her around and you know, sometimes you just get that creepy vibe. Sharon picked up on it too and we decided it was time to blast and hit Starbucks for that post race drink. The curse of being pretty coupled with the dark side of man.

What Sharon achieved today was remarkable and after the race I saw something in her eyes I hadn’t seen in quite some time. I was happy to see it. Jessica blew me away with her pace and pure happiness she seemed to get from the race. I found something in me today that I thought had gone away forever. It wasn’t just that I found I still had speed; it was something inside me when I ran. A joy that grew mile after mile. I didn’t curse the hills and as I came in the final mile, I was smiling. I loved it out there. I also loved running with my friends. Thank you girls for making today a very special day.

Michael Bitz: Power Walker

Yes, you read that right, I am a power walker. Let’s be completely clear about this – I’m not a walker, not a fitness walker, I am a power walker. What’s the difference you ask? The difference my friends is that I am doing it, as such it must be power walking. After months of fine running I found myself on the floor for three days unable to stand, having been bitch slapped by my lower back. Weeks of doing nothing has turned into a couple weeks of evening power walking. I cover the distance of my old race friend, the 5k. Mentally it feels good to walk a race distance. I am learning a few things as I PW (that’s what we in the know call it) and thought I would share.

Walkers code of conduct. Very limited if it exists. As a runner you always yield the left as a runner comes up behind you. Walkers however tend to float all over the sidewalk. It’s like they all have inner ear problems. Lord help you if there are two of them. They don’t budge. I call out a mild mannered “coming through” and the wall of rump in front of me seems to close up before I can get through. The other night I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Half way through, the gap was closing fast. I turned sideways, sucking myself into the thinnest stick of a man I could and just cleared those cheeks of death before darkness engulfed the street. One step slower and there might have been a mangled mess of a man left on the sidewalk gasping for breath and praying for some sanitizer.

Talking. Zipping along a runner will often see another runner coming at them. Due to the speed of the runners, there is barely time to say hi - generally just time for a quick head nod as you pass each other. Walkers on the other hand come at you slowly. You look at them and for the next 5 minutes while you pass each other there is time to exchange recipes. It is an awkward time for me. I am friendly but I don’t want to talk to anyone (I am a power walker after all). So I try not to make eye contact but the harder I try the more my eyes want to, have to look at them. Our eyes meet and I give the runners head nod. Now for the next 30-45 seconds I don’t know what to do. So I just keep giving the head nod until they pass. I find that it you do this, they will pick up their pace to get past you as soon as possible.

To combat all of this I have taken to wearing thug attire. Aside from my jet black sweat/PJ pants, I wear a sweatshirt with a large hood and a skull cap pulled down to my eyebrows that also covers my ears completely. I push my lips together and stare straight ahead. My gait however doesn’t help. My physical therapist says my hips are tight so I find myself swinging my hips back and forth. Add to this that I don’t want to heal strike so I lift my quads higher than normal with each step. Now I look like a gay thug power walker. No one talks to me now though occasionally I think I get a wink.

Next week the verdict on my return to running will be in. Tuesday is the day. I hope for good news and I can begin to run again. I’ll be more careful this time. I’ll work my core, stretch, continue the exercises to keep my glutes strong and hips loose. Until then I will power walk my way forward. In fact I will be out there in the rain shortly knocking out another 5k. If you see me feel free to say hi. Outside I may look tough but inside I can’t wait to see you.

Running: MIA

Seems I'm taking another sabbatical from running.  Not by choice of course, though that would at least make me feel better - to have some level of control (real or not) always makes me feel better.  No, this year little issues have cropped up and the best medicine has been to lay off the running and sometimes the weight lifting too.  I look back through my running log and see gaps that translate to reduced fitness levels and an extra pound or two.  I don't need the log to tell me I've added a few pounds.  Clothes and mirrors speak loudly.  Wear lots of clothes and for heaven's sake, avoid the mirror.  There's nothing worse than seeing yourself naked when you feel heavy.  Your first thought is whoa, that dude needs to work out or suck it in.  Sadly you're already sucking it in....

When you can't run suddenly everyone's a runner.  Everyone's running.  Old people... young people...they are everywhere and they all look fast.  Yesterday I was walking and a mom and her infant son ran by.  "Oh he was running by six months" she yells as she flies by trying to keep up with him.  I would have answered back but there was a curb coming up and I needed to conserve my strength. 

Another little secret is that when I don't run I have a tendency  to get a little cranky.  Oh it's hardly noticeable I'm sure but it's there.  It's not helped however by the out of shape over eating television watching non exerciser who sees me moving a little slower and a little guarded and remarks "Yeah, that's why I don't run".  My inside voice mutters something about a lazy snack munching slob but my outside voice say nothing.  I simply smile and slide the box of donuts a little closer to his outstretched sausage fingers.

I'm closing in on getting back to it and I can't wait.  To reconnect with friends, run off stress, and simply enjoy "being out there" will be great.  It won't be long until you begin to say to yourself "What the F, is the only thing that guy can post on facebook is how far he ran today?  Yes my friends, that will be a good day....

M-80

This time of year we hear M-80’s go off all the time. These illegal fireworks pack an explosive punch so great that you can feel it in your chest when it goes off. I imagine if you’re close to one it would take your breath away – even if you knew it was about to go off. Then you have to worry about the pee. Yes, some people actually pee a little (or a lot) when they get startled. An M-80 will do the trick. Stop it! I’m not talking about me. I do not pee when startled, I happen to spill water quite often that’s all. It would be nice to have that “medical” excuse. You know the one – “it’s because I had a baby”….”ever since little Johnny I can’t even sneeze or cough anymore without a little surprise”. Can you imagine a man trying that to explain away gas? “Oh sorry dear but ever since I carried your piano up those three flights of stairs”….

Clearly an M-80 is powerful. That is also one of the words I would use to describe the young man I had the pleasure of running a couple races with - Thomas, better known as “Little T”. Most recently we ran the Run of the Mill 5k together. In fact many of the Bertollisport gang was there to run, walk, or support. Sharon, Helena, Rita, Iain, Jessica, Marcie, Curt, Monica, and Savannah were on hand for the race. Each has their own incredible story about that run; stories that would make you smile and touch your heart. I will focus on just one. This is about the amazing journey I had running with T.

We arrived at the race ready to go. The sun was out and the 9:30 start time meant that the warmer temperature was going to make this run a little harder. I had my normal 2-3 potty stops before the race. I took T with me each time and made him try to go. Every time he’d look up at me and say “Mikey, I DON’T have to go”. At the same time he’d give me that look – the one that almost says I going to humor you you crazy old man but I’m not going to pee.

We jumped in line about 20 minutes before the start. We lined up behind the runners, in the official joggers chute. The instructions I gave T were simple. “Hold my hand until we get through the crowd and then you can run. I’ll be right behind you”. Well we hit the timing mat at the start line and his hand was gone. So was T….He was off and running. Mid you there were a lot of people in front of us and the first half mile or so was pretty packed. T would get boxed in behind people and I’d chuckle because I knew he was getting frustrated. Suddenly a small gap would open and bam, T would dart through, weave to the right or left, and sprint to open a gap before setting back to his pace. Holy shit, this kid is only six. I’m trying now to catch up and the gap has closed (or I’m to ah big) so I have to find a way around. Sometimes he’s done this 3-4 times in a row and I’m running all over trying to get back to him. I can see him looking around for the next opportunity to move through the crowd.

At the same time I’m laughing because of the faces I see and comments I hear as T does his thing. There is disbelief and praise. I’m sure a lot of those runners expected to see him further down the road walking because he was tired, burned out. Not this kid. He never stopped running. His arms would pump back and forth and his gaze forward – unless of course he was passing someone. Every time he passed he would turn his head and look up at the adult as if to wonder why they were moving so slowly. I worried that this might bother some runners so I would yell out “look straight T, watch where you’re going”. Inside I’m cracking up. I would have loved to been filming this.

At mile two he handed me a much needed invisible energy bar coupled with a knuckle bump and a smile. A bit later I could see the sweat on his face and we had just passed a table with bottles of water stacked up. I asked if he wanted water and he nodded. I told him to keep running and I ran back to fetch the water and caught up and handed it to him. He slowed and drank and handed the water back to me. He didn’t say thank you. His only words were “I didn’t stop, I’m not stopping”. That my friends was a thousand times better than a thank you. His determination was enough to choke a guy up – if a guy was to get choked up about that kind of stuff….As we ran on the memory of my first half marathon popped into my head. At mile 7 I had missed a Gu (energy) station and Albert told me to run on. He ran back and caught up to me with a Gu and water to wash it down. Thank you Albert.

Soon we could hear cheering so I knew the finish was near. T was ready to be done; he’d run his heart out. Up the hills, through the heat, in and out of runners. In no time we could hear Sharon shouting (screaming) for T and we breezed across the finish. One for the record books. Thomas set another PR, finishing in 32:45. Wow! Now it was time for hugs, water, donuts, and a Popsicle. I see the day coming when Little T will be at the finish line waiting for Mikey to finish. He’ll talk about his run and the new record he just set. I won’t hear much of what he says between my gasps of breath, ringing in my ears, and it’s never easy to hear when you’re doubled over. But like today, I will be proud of him.

Tulip Terror

Sure there are things I’m afraid of or maybe it’s manlier to say “not comfortable with” – such as water, meteors on a collision course with Earth, woman with more facial hair than I, but tulips? Pretty little tulips? It wasn’t so much an actual tulip but more the 2 mile race today. Terror is really too strong of a word, I’m no pussy after all. Stop it, I’m really not. It was a BIG sliver and I wasn’t crying…sometimes my eyes water…stupid eyes.

Yes, I raced today. It’s been sometime since I’ve done that. I admit I was a bit nervous. You know I’m on my comeback and my mileage has been increasing. Long slow miles which I once thought would make me a long slow tortoise, er runner. Turns out that I wrong. Anyway, the past few weeks I have been having a disagreement with my right hip. Honestly we’ve not been on speaking terms unless you count its parts and pieces causing me pain and my foul mouthed response to it – which has mostly been aimed at my hip though people around me may have suffered from collateral damage – sorry. I don’t do well when I have pain that prevents me from running. If I was a horse you might take me out back and shoot me – though I would prefer going the stud route….

My fear today was that my hip would give me some lip and I would end up walking. It behaved and I ran a good race. Managed a 7:54 pace which while not my best, saved me from being shot and my stud fee has increased. All this however was only a fraction of the day. Today was the first official outing of the 2012 Bertollisport Multisport Race Team (BMRT). Eleven ran today and I think those handing out medals are still shaking their heads and wondering who these people are. Seven of the eleven walked away with medals, ranging from 1st in their age group to third. The youngest was Evan, Curt’s 10 year old son who from this day forward will always be “Rocket” to me. He finished first in his age group for the 5 mile with an 8:01 pace. He didn’t look tired coming in the final 50 yards. Sharon and Steve both won their age group but neglected to fill out the bottom of their race bib so there was no official data to cling too. I took home a medal and Steve was in front of me – he more than earned it. Not just for today’s race but for the journey to get here. Iain won his division and I think we’ll see more decoration around his neck as the season continues.

Then there were the girls. Leah, Jessica, and Sharon showed their stuff and walked away with medals – cept for Sharon as you recall the bib incident. These girls are just plain f’ing fast. I love fast girls. No mom, that’s not what I meant…..I saw Helena finish the 5 miles and she looked like she could keep on going. The 2 mile girls ran out to run in with Tara who was cranking out a 5 miler today. I can’t speak for her but in her eyes I saw what she’s made of as she came down the stretch with her friends – that girl will never quit - -anything! Finally there’s Melanie who I’ve seen progress for a few years now. She is in the best shape I’ve seen and today’s race proved that. She’s going to have a great year!

The best thing though was seeing everyone together. Cheering for each other, helping each other, showing true friendship. I’m lucky to be part of this group and I can’t wait for the rest of the gang to race with us. Bertollisport is more than a group of people training together. Its people who care, people who believe in each other, it’s a family. Bertollisport thank you for everything. I’m all in….

The B Side

The comeback journey is well underway. However I feel like the B side of an old record - overshadowed by the A side. The side everyone cheers for, plays for hours, you watch it rise on the charts. It’s the popular side. The B side by contrast isn’t given much hope. It tries. Hangs around. Hopes that someone accidentally puts the record on upside down and it gets a chance to show what it’s made of. Every once in a while the B side becomes a hit, even overshadows the A side. My B side is an A side wanna be.

Honestly it has been harder than I thought it would be. In order to kick it into high gear I’ve had to say goodbye to some old friends. Some had drifted away while others have dug in and refused to go. Not to embarrass them but Mr. JellyDonut, Ms Snacksizecandybar, and the always in my face Mr. Pintof anykindoffullonhighfaticecream have yet to get the hint that it’s time for them to go. Maybe I’ve been too nice to them. I admit that more than once I’ve woken up with Ms Snacksizecandybar laying next to me. Don’t blame me, it was a fun size bag after all….

My workouts have been steady and fruitful. I’m back to lifting weights a couple days a week. Getting tone back in my once hard body is important to me and it’ll be nice to take the newspaper off the mirrors. Lifting has been a mental lift as well, a way to gauge my return in a way other than speed. Strength is coming back and I suspect the broader my shoulders become the smaller my center chub will appear.

Running is smiling at me again. Sharon has me on a strict diet of slow mileage. At first I scoffed at it, maybe stomped my feet once or twice, and pronounced to the team that I simply cannot run that slowly. Oops…after the reprimand and a refresher in the science of running (plus a reminder that I am not the runner I once was – ouch), I realized that she was right and I would concede. The past two weeks have been great. I am building my base and enjoying my road time. Today I rolled out 7 miles which included a nice hill and I felt great afterwards.

Stretching is now routine and my foam roller and I are getting reacquainted. I love the group I am running with and the support this group has for each other is something one doesn’t find just anywhere. I will complete my first Duathlon in June and who knows, maybe this guy has some speed left in him still. Lookout 5K age division leaders, the B side is coming back and sometimes just sometimes, they can be a hit….

The Comeback Kid

Comeback Kid. At 52 maybe Kid isn’t the right word. Geezer? Too harsh. Adult? Too formal and too far from the truth. :) Let’s just say that I am between diapers and depends…though a little closer to the latter. Age doesn’t freak me out because my mind has enough to keep track of without having to worry about a number. Did I blow out the candle? Close the garage door? Company is coming over, are the toilets flushed? All much more critical – wouldn’t you agree?

Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.

Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….

Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.

Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.

There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….

Generosity

I am blessed in so many ways. Sadly I fear that I don’t always appreciate that fact. “Life” happens and with the rush of the day it’s far too easy to hang on to the stressful moments and only glimpse at the ones you should really focus on. I have been reminded of others generosity lately and in fact have been touched deeply by it.

Two days ago I had out-patient surgery. However for some time prior I’d been dealing with pain and discomfort in my man area. Yes, the scrotum. I had some sort of growth in there for a few years but over the past 6-8 months it decided that size mattered and went to work. Its mission - to get as large as possible. Humor is my weapon and I joked about it being an alien, or a watermelon. I was however a bit freaked out and knew I needed to have it looked at. I couldn’t. Why? Because I’m 52. My dad passed away in the hospital at 52 and there was no way I would be admitted to the hospital at that age. Stupid? Silly? Maybe but that was the deal.

Suddenly everything seems to point me to the doctor. I’d feel like I’d been hit in the groin 80% of the time. Trying to make it through spin class while sitting on the alien hurt. I’d try and push it to the side but eventually there wasn’t any room to move it. Running caused discomfort. Walking no better. My best friend noticed and basically said get to the doctor. She was more colorful that than…

Saw the doctor who poked me in places I’d rather not think about which resulted in an appointment for an ultrasound to determine the makeup of the alien. Two days later I was at the hospital waiting for my name to be called. My tech calls me, oh great it’s a woman. Just what I hoped for…not! Next thing I know my “goods” are laying out in the open air as she’s squirting hot gel on her tools of the trade. I won’t share the details of the next 30-45 minutes except to say that she was chatty and I was most uncomfortable – how does one carry on a conversation when his…well, you get the picture.

The results of the ultrasound showed not a tumor but a hydrocele. Basically fluid buildup that was expanding because there was nowhere for it to go. The solution was surgery. At this point in time I had alerted those at work, family and friends. I will say that the people I work with at Quadrant Homes are the best. They were truly concerned and cared about me, not that fact that I would miss work, but about how I was doing. You only find people like that in an organization bred in character. I am grateful to work for a company like that. Family and friends emailed, called, and texted to show their support. My oldest called me three balls. How cute :).

My surgery was in the afternoon and Sharon called and offered to take me to her PT that morning to help take my mind off the surgery. Watching her and others go through PT and chatting with the therapists was good medicine. We finished up and she drove me to the hospital. All along I was receiving messages. Steve was praying for me and others gave shout outs for best wishes. Funny how things like that give you a peaceful confidence. My nerves calmed and I soon met Joy, my nurse. She was a little kooky but what the heck – I wondered about her when she tried to write with the wrong end of the pen, then told me she would take good care of me….Soon I was rolled to the third floor where I met the team who would fix me. I recall hearing that I was getting happy juice and after a couple breaths in the mask they slid over my mouth I was out. In what seemed like minutes I woke up and it was done. Over. I survived.

Once I was aware enough to grab my phone I had well over 20 messages and texts from family and friends. How great that felt. In the middle of their busy lives they knew what I was going through and took the time to check in. Sharon came to pick me up but the hospital wouldn’t let me go until I peed. Apparently that’s an important function. I didn’t have to go. Tea was ordered by Sharon to help move things along. By the time I had two glasses of water, a glass of cranberry juice, and two glasses of tea, I made my way to the bathroom. Success. Heck, the nurses in the hallway heard me going. It was time to go!

I arrived home and was tucked in, safe and sound. The next day I slept a lot. I was floating in and out of awareness. Now the same day I was having my minor surgery my neighbor Angie was having a mastectomy. Turns out after a routine mammogram cancer was found. Angie and her husband Mitch are great people with two lovely kids. Her surgery was a success and Tuesday we’ll know if they got it all. I pray they did. Even with all that going on in their lives, they touched mine. I woke up yesterday to a note on my fridge (picture posted to the left) and plenty of food. Wow. Sharon has been by to check on me at all hours and calls from family and friends continue. I hope I never take any of you for granted and I’ll be there, for each and every one of you when you need me, maybe even if you think you don’t.

Saw the doctor yesterday and he removed the drain. Ever watch someone pull out a nearly 4 inch long piece of plastic from your scrotum? It was like watching a sword swallower pull his sword out. Ouch is all I can say. He plugged the hole and taped me up. His orders are no sex for a month (really, like that was happening before?) and no exercise for the same time period. Lift nothing over 10 pounds. Weight gain here I come. I’ll be a little sloppy for awhile and will miss out on my annual polar bear dive and 5K. I’m glad I had the surgery. Next time you see me I’ll be a little slimmer below the belt and a bit chunkier above….a pretty good trade off I think.

Jog....don't walk

Jog…don’t walk. I know, silly title. Maybe not when you consider that my blog Domain is Run…don’t jog. After all, I fancy myself a runner. On a good day with the wind at my back I can nearly always beat those who are behind me. Today however I am looking forward to jogging – another phase in my return to the flashy world of running.

You see a couple weeks ago my lovely back decided to go out on me. It happens from time to time and usually the result of doing something at an angle that was once fine but now is not the least bit appropriate. Hindsight is always there but never comes early enough for me. I wish it was something heroic like chasing down a purse snatcher or foiling a robbery that caused it to rebel. This time it was just a bit of thatching.

Sunday thatching turned into a situation where I stood up at my desk Monday morning around 9:30 and my back said hello. It was more of an “It’s time to kick your ass” than a hello….Anyway I was unable to walk and I sat there wondering if my office floor would be my home for the next couple of days. Wendy came by and brought me ice – sweet wonderful ice. I packed it down the back of my pants and sat until frostbite neared. I slowly stood and shuffled my way to the car. Slid in and drove home.

I got home, stepped into the laundry room and went down, straight to the floor. You see when my back goes out I get spasms in the lower left side. They feel like a knife is jammed in and twisted. The upside is that each spasm only lasts for about 5 seconds. The downside is that I simply cannot stand up, it’s like my leg muscles have been removed, they just don’t work. Having had this happen before I know that I need to elevate my legs to take pressure off my lower back. So I crawled to the family room and slowly flipped on my back and put my legs on the sofa – sorta of like I was sitting on a chair except I’m laying down.

For the next three hours I averaged a spasm a minute like my back was having contractions but there would be no baby to end this, just time. As luck would have it all the coffee I drank in the morning was now ready for removal. Much like a soldier crawling on his belly under the barbwire, I made my way to the bathroom. I had to spit on my palms so I could better grip the hardwood floor and push forward. As gross as it was, I had to use the bowl as a handgrip then the tank, finally resting my head against the wall while holding me up as my body couldn’t hold its own weight. I will leave the details out as to how I actually then peed but the ordeal lasted more than 20 minutes and it would be repeated again and again before help arrived.

Help arrived. I was so happy yet embarrassed by my situation. I was however without food, water, and my cell phone battery was slipping away. Sharon fixed all that. Soon there was bottled water, Cliff bars (which she even opened for me), cookies, and my cell phone charger all within reach. I might have borrowed a couple muscle relaxers however since I may run for President someday I will not make a definitive statement. Sharon did visit my upstairs medicine cabinet where I had some pain pills – granted they weren’t mind and were expired. So much for running for President. Before she left Sharon brought me another necessity - two water bottles for which I would pee in and never again have to endure the journey to the bathroom.

For the next 48 hours my world was that spot on the floor. Pills aided my sleep and helped to deaden the spasms which became less frequent. Help continued to come, to check on me, to restock. I was groggy for much of it but I recall Sharon and Savannah walking in and hearing Savannah saying “Let’s clean this place out, he can’t do anything about it anyway”. Too funny. My “water bottles” were emptied and I was so grateful for the help. By Thursday I was able to stand and that evening walk a bit.

Walking is what I am doing now. Running has been out of the question due to the stiffness of my back. Walking helps and I’ve been enjoying the trails in the neighborhood. I’ve missed my running buddies but will see them soon. I plan on jogging the trail with them this weekend. Nothing fast, nothing impressive. To me though it will be glorious. It might even call for a new pair of running socks. I feel very lucky to have the kind of people around me that I do. Those I work with were so kind and genuinely concerned. Others sent text messages offering help and kept checking in on me. And not just anyone would empty a guys pee…

Rollercoaster

It slows to a stop in front of you. You carefully step in, pull down the safety bar and sit back with nervous excitement. Your breathing which you hadn’t noticed before now draws your attention. Your chest starts to echo with the increasing thump of a drum beat that started in the distance and now moves towards you at a pace you cannot control. Each breath you take seems to call the beat closer, stronger. Your brain says “get out” but your body doesn’t budge. The coaster begins to move, slowly at first as if to say that everything is going to be alright. You feel alone even though you’re surrounded by people. You look for an encouraging smile but it’s not there. Everyone is in their own world. The coaster is moving up the steep incline now, laboring hard is if it might not make it. All you hear is the sound of the chain as it pulls the machine upward…clink clink clink clink …As the coaster reaches the pinnacle, you slowly close your eyes, take a deep breath, grab the bar and hold on.

The Portland Half Marathon felt like that. Not just the race, but the entire trip - from the moment I left to the day I came back. To be clear, it was a great race for me. I ran well, lived (always a plus for any race), and recorded my fastest half. The trip however reminded me just how much life has changed. I got to spend time with my son Taylor and realized that he’s moving into adulthood without me. Sure we talk on the phone when I can somehow get more than three words out of him but seeing him was different. Somehow I began to feel that he doesn’t need me. That’s stupid of course because I have so much more to teach him. Granted he’s well beyond learning critical things like armpit farts - a staple for every kid and something I find necessary to teach everyone under the age of five. He is becoming his own man and while I’m proud of him, I wasn’t ready for his level of independence.

My sister Andrea who I haven’t seen in years came to Portland to surprise mom. Laughing with her took me back to being kids. We visited and were as silly as ever. I’m so glad she came. I hadn’t seen mom since she started dialysis. She’s had a rough time with it, enduring too many surgeries but at the same time maintaining her outlook and determination to work the whole thing into her daily schedule. I sat there looking at her and Stan and wondered if I was in the same position would I show the same strength or piss and moan. Yeah, probably the latter unfortunately. Is it me or do older people get a little weird? My stepfather Stan who stands around 6’6 keeps a yardstick behind the bathroom door. Why? So if he runs out of toilet paper he can grab the stick and knock a fresh role down from the top shelf. He doesn’t want to stand up at that point apparently. I thought about replacing the yard stick with a ruler without telling him – sort of a surprise. I didn’t.

The rest of the Seattle gang arrived Saturday. The ride down had been entertaining and I admit once we got together I felt a little on the outside. Nothing they did and likely a carryover from the previous day’s experiences. We hit the Expo and went to dinner. Eventually landing at the hotel and room arrangements were made to the satisfaction of most. Evening plans passed through a blender and I was in bed by 8:30. We were to depart at 5:45am to walk to the start line which was a 25 minute walk or so, with the race starting at 7:00. Some overslept and needed to leave later. I couldn’t, I had to go. I told myself it was because I’d been up since 4:00 and had done everything I could to get my pre-race poop moving but had no luck. Figuring the walk would produce the desired results I left the hotel at 5:50. It was likely that it was my inflexibility that required me to leave but blaming it on poop seems a good attempt at redirection. By the way, the walk didn’t help. I ran ‘heavy’. I was then cursed with 24 hours of stomach cramps that came and went on their own schedule.

Most were running the marathon and a few of us the half. We were in different starting corrals which made it impossible at that point to hang together and wish each other luck. We all had someone but we didn’t have each other. Hollywood was with me, preparing to run her first half. She ran with me for about 4 miles and then settled into her own pace. I had set my mind on a pace that would deliver a PR (personal record). Soon it became the only thing in my head. I saw runners but paid no mind to them. The sea of spectators were faceless bodies waiting to cheer on their runner. I was ahead of pace by mile 9. I began to feel like crap. I knew I was pushing myself and had not hit a pace like this before. The next 4 miles are hard to describe. If I slowed I would miss my goal and honestly the effort in the first 9 miles would have been a waste. I wandered in and out of clarity and my pace reflected it, I was all over the board. Mile 13 was the longest mile I can remember. I swear my iPod played 5 songs yet I ran it in slightly over 8 minutes. Rounded a corner and saw the signs that registered in my mind, only 3 blocks to go. I saw the time clock as I crossed and officially had hit my mark. I now stood trying to catch my breath and ready to celebrate. Where were my friends? I hadn’t thought about it but with those doing the marathon and me being the fastest ‘halfer’, I would finish before everyone else. I gave myself mental high five and was feeling a little cocky until the first wave of stomach cramps arrived to remind me I was human.

I hung out in the recovery area which was near the finish line waiting for friendly faces. Soon they began to roll in and make their way to the recovery fuel. I was impressed with our group of runners. Everyone finished and for many it was their first attempt at the distance they ran. Some crossed the finish line in better shape than others. I always feel like I will puke and wonder if so much life oozed out of me in the final miles that I may not fully recover. Sharon needed help, having run the marathon under conditions that most of us would have quit, grabbed a cab and hit the hotel for a shower, her struggle at the finish line was hard to see. She has never quit and this time was no exception. I was proud of her. I will omit the scene when a medical attendant put her arm around Sharon to see if she needed help and all that was left of her was a small mushroom cloud. Clearly she didn’t know that what Sharon needs at that moment is space not touching. Then again, how would she? Dan and I helped her through the maze of people and eventually we hobbled back to the hotel. Most jumped in cars and headed back to Seattle. The Giant (Kyle) rode home with me. The Giant is 22 and stands tall….very tall. He quickly fell asleep and woke a couple hours later. He was beat, having run his first marathon. I listened to him talking to his parents and friends about his achievement. His excitement was so pure, so honest that I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face.

I had a hard weekend emotionally and physically. At times I wanted to be alone. Other times I needed a ray of sunshine. I was hard to read and didn’t always care what anyone thought. I do care. I’m done racing for the year. I will focus on healing until 2012. God willing I will run a lot next year and since I have reason to believe that God is a runner, I’m sure the big guy will help me out. In fact I’m sure He already has in ways I don’t even know cause that’s how he rolls. Life moves forward. Kids get older. Parents sadly do as well. Life happens. Embrace it all and settle only for what you deserve, not the plate others may have set for you. Be better to others and give without expectation - I know those who do this and admire each and every one of them. I wish I had some strong wise statement to make to close this bog but I don’t. I will simply say this – Thank you.

It isn’t half of anything….

Last Sunday I ran a “half” marathon. It’s easy for one to hear half marathon and discount the effort because it’s not the full blown ass kicking marathon. Truth is it’s not. The distance is half - but the effort will never be. Similar, some think a 5K is easy. Really? From the sound of the gun you push yourself quickly into the pain zone and those 3.1 miles are hard….they hurt….they test you. My point is simple, shorter does not mean easier. It simply means different. Whew, feels good to get that off my chest.

I should also say that I have respect for every distance and those who compete in them. I saw friends finish the marathon Sunday. Gus who I just met had a remarkable race and an incredible time. Rochelle was the first woman to cross the finish line! Dan with calves that cramped up at mile 25 never stopped moving forward. I believe he was at 3:05 or so at mile 25 and finished around 3:30. Loose math says 25 minutes for 1.1 miles. I can’t imagine 50 feet with cramping calves much less a mile plus. Inspired? Yeah, I think so.

We had a gaggle of half marathoners. Sharon was there to pace Christy. Sue signed up the day before and joined us, running with Jen. Jen who has such a special routine for this race that she wouldn’t carpool with us! She parks in the same stall every year! Freaky yes but we all have “those things” that we do come race day. And then there was Monica who in every photo looked like she was happy to be there! And we can never forget those that came to support. We saw Albert whom we’ve missed, Jim came out (I must note that he was looking dapper - blue shirt and shades), and Ken, who drove up all the way from Redmond – wow! Thank you guys!

My plan was to follow the plan. Sharon has long preached running the first half slower than the second, increasing speed at the halfway point and slicing down (meaning running faster every mile even though you have run further and are beginning to feel life ooze from your pores). I know, I remember thinking the same thing – she is one step away from a straight jacket! Crazy or not the deal is it works. I arrived thinking I’d pace out around 9:20 due to limited distance training, swollen glands in my neck, a bit of fatigue, and oh yes, seems I can be a pussy sometimes. I was feeling pretty good and finished the first half averaging 8:51. My mind quickly went to my PR and as I ran I was working the math and by mile 8 I had determined that it was possible to PR. Crap, so much for taking it easy, I now had time to make up if I was to hit my new goal.

I was doing fairly well but tiring. It was a flat course but honestly flat can punish your legs more than a having a hill. Did I mention the day was warm….and getting warmer. Anyway, I ended up next to a guy around mile 9 who mentioned he was on pace for a 1:56. I told him that would be a PR for me and I’d like to run with him. He gave me a “you bet” and we ran side by side. We had passed mile 11 when he said “you got it, I’ve been averaging an 8:40 pace”. I looked at him and shared that I hadn’t as I ran the first half around 8:51. He said “Then you have to run faster, get going, get out of here”. It was almost like an order. I nodded and took off. I admit those last miles felt like shit but my pace dropped to 8:04 and then 7:56. Coming in I heard the cheers that came at the right moment and pushed forward. No extra speed as there wasn’t any left, just a constant stride to the finish line. Yes, I waited for my new friend to come in and shook his hand as I thanked him for helping me hit my new goal.

Everyone had a good race….we all lived. Sharon took home 3rd in her age group which was funny. Funny because she did this while pacing Christy and running back and forth. Safe to say she ran much further than those who came in ahead of her! I was spent but happy. We all have something that feels out of sorts after a race but after a few days we all seem to get back to normal – with this group (myself included) I won’t even attempt to define what normal is. Fact is we don’t care. It works for us and at the end of the day we justify our crazy world by saying “it’s ok, we’re athletes”. That’s our happy place. Next stop for me is Portland – my hometown and my first 13.1 there. I can’t wait….

Finish Strong

Yesterday the BertolliSport team competed in the Monroe Finish Strong Triathlon. This is the target Tri the team trains for when we start the season. We had lots of participants and friends cheering us on - it was so cool to have so many participating.  Those who came to cheer us on did so with gusto - a spirited hoot, holler, "looking good" goes a long way when you're pushing every fiber of your being just to maintain forward movement.

The weather was perfect. As we drove into the valley at the wonderful hour of 5:30am a gentle fog was settling in and the silhouette of the mountains was beautiful. We might have pulled over just to take it in had we not a previous commitment. Nervous chatter settled in - nothing new but it's always interesting. I was feeling quite relaxed knowing that I only had to knock out a 5k - though I was determined to push myself hard. It wasn't until Iain rode off for his bike leg that the butterflies paid a visit - thank you nearby Honey Bucket.

The team quickly went about their business setting up in the transition area, each a little different yet all with the same goal - organization. The better organized the faster your transition will be. Unless of course you get stuck in your wetsuit, have trouble locating your bike, put your shoe on the wrong foot, etc. Sometimes simple things can be overwhelming when you're attempting to do them at the speed of light. I had little to do because once again I opted for the relay and as you may have guessed I signed up for the running leg. Our team consisted of Lani (swim), Iain (bike), and me (run).

Bam - next thing I knew swimmers were in the water and the race was on. I hustled back to the transition area so I could snap photos of the team coming in and support Iain who was ready to go as soon as Lani came in from the swim. Oh my, special thanks to Lani for swimming. I'm not saying that Iain and I could not have managed the swim - well yes, I am actually saying that - without Lani we'd have been sunk, in more ways than one. She kicked the swim and was running through the sand on her way for the hand off. Some of the team had already been in and were out on the bike leg. Their transitions were smooth and calculated....well nearly. Sharon came in and saw that her bike had been moved - let me say that no one is ever supposed to touch a competitors bike - yet someone did. Holy moley when she saw it the "special" words flew faster than bullets from a Gatling gun. I saw a preacher run for his bible believing he had a soul to save. Steve and I dived for cover afraid to speak. Not to be derailed she grabbed her bike whispered a 'sorry' to the volunteers and was off.

Lani reached Iain and the transfer was complete - Iain was off. A man on a mission. He had ridden the course as part of his training and I knew he'd rock it - he's been working hard to increase his speed and to do well today.  I had about 45 minutes until my run would begin so I began my prep, putting on my race bib, warming up, mentally getting ready to push myself. This was not going to be fun - I wanted to run hard and finish knowing I gave it my best. Those runs while fantastic at the end are simply painful during. Bikers were coming in and our team was looking strong. They were in and out of transition in a flash and after the 3.1 miles, would be running across the finish line.

I saw Iain a few blocks out, coming in strong with a huge smile on his face. He rolled in and and I was off. The run was uneventful. My first mile was 7:09 and I finished averaging 7:18. A half mile to go and I saw Jamie - another relay team! My focus became easy - catch her, pass her. She was moving at a pretty good clip however. About a quarter mile to go I was a yard behind her. I thought about passing her but decided against it. I was worried that this young runner would have more in the tank than I and would then pass me prior to the finish - couldn't have that. So I set my sights on the upcoming sidewalk, that would be my push. Hitting it I gave what I had left, passing her and going hard to the finish. I managed to keep my lead but could swear I heard her footsteps right behind me. Teammates who had finished and friends were cheering as we came in and honestly, it filled me with such happiness the pain of the run disappeared. I love those guys. 

Our relay team "Triple Threat" took first place in the relay category - but only by 2.4 seconds - Paula and Jamie earned the right to stand up with us side by side.  Maybe we'll all take our victory glasses and toast a race well ran. During the awards ceremony someone from BetrolliSport seemed to always be walking up for an award - the team really rocked it. That of course is a testament to the program. Training plans, group workouts, motivating each other, and maybe most important of all, cementing friendships and creating new ones that will last well beyond this season were key ingredients. I admit that this year seemed different than last. There was more responsibility on each individual to own their plan, their workouts. This worked well for some and others found it more difficult. All I can say is that the people and the program continue to change me. I saw victories at events as well as in personal lives. Fear was beaten down and lives enriched. The character of these people is never in question and I would stand up for each and every one of them. We were many yet we were one. You are never alone - maybe it's because whenever you need a hand there is always one outstretched just waiting to help. For those who say there's no magic left in the world, come join BetrolliSport....

Balls

Balls. That's right you know exactly what I mean. If you're confused let me help. I don't mean a basketball, tennis ball, golf ball, or even those little red rubber balls - though, well....never mind. I mean "balls" as in courage or bravery. I've seen it a lot lately, particularly with my Tri and Multisports teammates.  As I think about it, examples flood my mind racing in and out, leaving short snapshots that are almost overwhelming. My dad getting cancer and fighting it head on with spirit and humor. It took him from us and I can still see myself watching him slip away that day. He was a strong man and I'm sure he had days where he felt like giving up. Maybe he cried. I never saw it. He worked, took his treatment and never bitched to us about it. He taught me a lot and I still miss him today.

My youngest son Taylor when he found out he had a brain tumor. He looked at me without fear or tears and simply wondered how soon they could take it out. Through a zillion tests and MRI's he stood tall. I cried like a baby, not sure if he would live though it. He was the rock. He lost all peripheral vision and we would walk together after the surgery and talk about it, wondering if it would come back - the doctors had said it was likely but nothing was promised. He took it in stride and came through it all. I am still amazed at the courage he displayed through it all.

I hate water. Hate may be a strong word. No, it's the right word. I have learned to swim in the pool with the help of my friends and my heart rate no longer puts a hummingbird to shame. Balls? Maybe. My friend Mike feels the same way about water as I do yet today I saw him once again swimming in open water. Open Water!  He doesn't like it but he's doing it, pushing himself through a place he'd rather not go. Balls. F yeah. Courage - a shitload.

Does it take balls to run your first 5K?  Half marathon? Marathon? To do your first triathlon? To move from a Sprint to an Olympic?  It does. It takes nerve, guts, courage. Often the courage falls in with what it takes to prepare for the event. The hours of training, time away from family, sessions that can beat you down if you let them. Pushing yourself past the place of comfort. I've seen my teammates push through the barrier time and time again. We nod heads and say good job but in reality we should celebrate - the accomplishment deserves it. How about training for an Ironman 70.3?  1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and a half marathon to finish it off.  I've watched Sharon train for this and heard stories about her 60 mile bike sessions with 17 miles of hills with Dan and others (I forget names), her latest 3 hour run at the Watershed and it goes on and on. I'd have to visit one of those Hollywood doctors to hope to come out with the balls to do something like that.

Let's be clear, I'm no pussy. I've accomplished a tremendous amount in my mind and given enough time I could speak to nearly some of them. None of which would have ever happened had I not told myself they had. Clear?  Take some time this week to look around and see the examples of bravery and courage that are all around you. Stop in front of the mirror and say thank you to the person you see for the courage and bravery they display - for the big things and the small. That person does more than they think and carries more on their shoulders than they may realize - have the balls to tell them so, you just may get a smile in return.

Possibilities

Monday I ran faster than I have in 18 months. Why was this 5K different? After all I am older so in theory my speed should be decreasing – that’s what the experts say. They also say that as men turn 50 they begin to lose speed, they start to focus on endurance. Probably because once the lightning leaves your feet you feel like to have to hang on, grab on to something to prove “it’s not over”. Running longer and slower keeps you out there, out there with the runners, the athletes, the vibe. Sometimes it’s hard to line up for a race and in front of you is a sea of well tuned young runners with so much pent up energy that they are bouncing up and down just waiting to get out of the gate. Meanwhile I’m telling myself it’s only a race, remember to breathe, start out slow, have fun. Deep inside however I want to run hard, run fast, faster than them, I want to win. I know I won’t. They will break the tape well before me.

So what made Monday so different? Have I been holding back? Maybe. Why? Fear? Maybe. Confidence? Probably. It’s not easy to push yourself to that place where your body tells you to stop it. Your legs and lungs tell your brain that you are being stupid, you should slow down before something bad happens. The next thing you know, you’re slowing and justifying in your mind that it’s the right thing to do. You become comfortable, safe. Once there, you’re screwed. You’ve lost. Lost not only this race but those you have yet to run. I admire the fearless runner – you know who you are. You hear the same voice but your push it away, you turn a deaf ear to it and you run, run harder, push harder. I admire you for that. I’m trying to learn from the strength you display.

I did learn something about myself at the Rock n Roll Half Marathon. Maybe not so much in the first few miles but certainly as the race went on. I’ve been holding back. Holding back - afraid to cross that threshold that puts you in a very dangerous place. Dangerous because once there, no one can help you. Dangerous because you hear so many voices and only one of them urges you to keep going, the rest are anchors ready to stop you in your tracks. Dangerous because it can define you – one way of another.

I heard the voices Monday. They started a half mile in when my pace was sub seven. They told me to slow the hell down because I could never keep that pace up. That voice was right. I slowed between a 7:00 and 7:19. Still fast, in fact faster than I have managed in a long time. A mile in the voices urged me again to slow down. “You should be running an 8 minute pace right now, what are you doing?” I decided to let them talk but I wouldn’t listen. Ok, I was listening a little but doing my best to ignore them. Finishing mile two my legs began to feel like rubber. My pace was 7:18. Voices spoke louder and my brain said slow down. I thought about previous races, failures, the Rock n Roll and decided at that moment that I wasn’t going to slow. I would push through and if the good Lord wanted to take me than what the hell, my next 5K would be with wings and harp music. Amazingly my lungs felt fine. Air was flowing and that gave me a renewed since of confidence. Damn cross training. Frickin pool…bike…core…and the various cardio machines that taunt me. Thanks Sharon – I used to give you crap about it and here I am, running stronger because of it.

That last mile was hard but I’m still here. Crossing the finish line at 22:29 felt amazing. Part of that feeling was the time clock but most of it was the mental victory which meant more to me than the time. The time simply serves as a checkpoint, a stake in the ground that said I did it. I guess it’s not over for this guy – I still have some ass to kick - granted it’ll be older ass…Maybe all my races won’t be good, but some will. I’ll take the good with the bad as long as I know I did the best I could that day. Running is now full of possibilities for me again. We all have possibilities. Some point us in a new direction, be it a scary direction some times. You may have voices in your head telling you to slow down, to stop, to settle. I don’t think you should. You deserve more than that. Possibilities – they are yours for the taking – take them.

Spur of the moment

You know me, I'm not a spur of the moment kind of guy. I'm a planner. It once took me 14 months to buy a car. I put money away every month for Christmas so I can pay cash for presents. My grocery list follows the order of the aisles in the store. I buy extra socks and underwear that I don't wear so I always have spares. I find an event, train for it, then on race day I pound it out. On June 24th I decided to do the Seattle Rock n Roll Half Marathon. On June 25th I ran it. Crazy!

The story is this - my friend David had signed up for the Half and ended up hurting his ankle so he couldn't run. At the last minute Sharon decides to take his place. She calls me and says that I should come with. "Come with" turns into "run it with me". But how could I? After all it was tomorrow and what was she thinking??? Who has the wild eyes now? Not me baby. I pondered it and figured I could jog it and tackle the 13.1 miles (though I had not covered that distance since last year). One more thing, I would bandit the race. Not pay for it. No race number. No timing chip. Of course I printed the rules out and it clearly stated that without a race number you would not be allowed on the shuttle bus. I told Sharon this and she replied "It's no big deal, they won't check". I argued of course because it was after all a rule. I became a little pissy but in the end we concluded that she would pick me up at 5:00am the next morning.

As we arrived at the shuttle point we were shocked to see thousands of people already in line. We walked around the Westin hotel looking for the end of the line which we finally found after walking around the entire building. I don't know how many days were were in line. Ok, minutes but it was nearly 45. We finally were loaded on a bus and the thought of sitting down for the 20 minute ride was heaven. Oh know, we're on the bus and it's full. We have to stand (Sharon ended up sitting on the floor). I'm already tired and we haven't started the run yet. Bus drops us off to a sea of people. I think over 25,000 people ran plus volunteers, cops, etc. A crap load of people. Of course we needed to use the port a potty in order to lose a few precious pre-race pounds. The lines were huge! In fact all 25,000+ people were in line in front of us - or so it seemed.

Business taken care of, we proceeded to our corral. Lucky number three it was. On the way I turned my Garmin on only to find that my pace wasn't working. I had monkeyed around with it to get it set up for biking and clearly screwed the pooch. No time to try and figure out how to set it up properly. Yes, I used some colorful words that I won't repeat here. How could I run a half without my Garmin to help guide my pace? It was what it was. We moved on. We were late. Corral three had already left. By the time we walked past folks to get to the front, we were in corral 27. F! This meant thousands of slower runners in front of us and we were smack in a pack of 11-13 minute milers. So what you might think. Wrong. Slower runners mean that you have to dodge, run around, and more or less always be looking 5 yards ahead to find your spot to run through. We did this the entire race. I ran back and forth, on sidewalks and grass, and ended up running 14+ miles.

At mile 7 I yelled out a thank you to the band and commented to the girls running near me that I could use all the energy I could get. One responded that it was mile 7 and I looked like I had only just started the race and I didn't need any more energy. As I left them in the dust it occurred to me that I wasn't tired. I was actually having fun, smiling, and felt pretty good. What the heck was going on with me?  By mile 8 I was hot and took off my shirt (easy now girls) and tied it on my head. The air on my sweaty chest cooled me off and felt good. That read like something from a romance novel. "Slowly Michael pulled his shirt up and over his well tanned broad shoulders....". I hit mile 11 and my phone buzzed. Yes, I was running with phone in hand. It was Sharon and she had just finished - dang, two miles ahead of me. She is stronger and faster I won't deny that. I made a weak attempt to run and text back "mile 11" to give her an idea of where I was - ever text while running and passing people? I'm sure some folks weren't happy with me. Mile 12 had hundreds of people cheering and I loved it. However that mile seemed to go on forever. Finally the home stretch was in sight and holy heck, I felt good. Sprinted a bit for a good show at the finish :)

We grabbed our finishers medals, water, and were off. We had a 2-3 mile walk to the car ahead of us. We joked and laughed about the run. Sharon killed it but doesn't like me to post her metrics so I will leave it with this - she's frickin impressive. I thanked her for asking me to run the half, for pushing me out of my comfort zone. I learned that I am capable of doing more than I have. My time was probably just under two hours and I hadn't trained for this, didn't push myself at all during the race. My body may not be 100%, but it can handle more than I've been pushing it's way. Without a doubt or a moment of hesitation, I'm all in - let's see what this baby can do.