If You Want to Make God Laugh...

To all of my friends and supporters who have been following my quest for the marathon over these past 4 months, I hate to post this, but I was unable to finish the full St. Jude Marathon yesterday.  It was very disappointing and I was so discouraged I didn't even want to enter Auto Zone park to cross the 1/2 finish line.  And I really didn't want to accept the 1/2 marathon medal.  As I crept along miles 9 through 13, I felt nothing but failure.  My plan was to tell a race official at the split that I couldn't continue on, give them my d-tag and then walk down Union Avenue in shame to the stadium to get my bag from bag check, and then slink to my car and head home in disgust.  I didn't even want to wear my light blue bib number in the stadium, indicating the full marathon, in case someone saw me and thought I had run the full in 3 hours.

My downfall began on Sunday night, just a week ago from today.  I awoke in the night with a tickle in my throat.  I coughed just a bit to clear it, and thought, "that's odd."  But then I went back to sleep and didn't think too much of it.  The next day, I felt "OK."  I debated on whether to run that day, or wait until Tuesday.  I felt slightly out of sorts so I decided to run Tuesday, and then Thursday to make those the final runs before Saturday's marathon.  By Monday evening I knew I was in trouble.  A full blown cold had taken hold of me. 

For me, a cold borders on the flu.  I just don't get mild colds that Alka-Seltzer Plus can knock out and allow me to go out and quarterback a Super Bowl winning performance.  I read every now and then about guys with the flu who score triple doubles in the championship game, or others like Matt Kutcher who won a golf tournament earlier this year.  Not me.  All I can do is curl up, and hope I don't blow away.  My head hurts, my throat feels like I'm gargling with a cactus; my limbs ache and I feel like I've got a ships anchor tied to me as I try to drag it along with legs that feel like rubber. But all week I tried to be brave, and I tried my best to kill the thing with massive doses of vitamin C, zinc, chicken soup, and Norman Vincent Peale-type thinking.  Come Friday night I was "ready."  Or so I tried to make myself believe.

My equally run-crazy in-law family came up from Mississippi to meet us for a carb-loading dinner at Macaroni Grill on Friday night.  Along with my family, and a few friends we met to discuss strategy and pump each other up for the next day's event.  My nephew and I were running the full; my brother-in-law, my son, and my friend Steve, were running the half; and my nephew and his wife were running the family 5K.  All together we had about 20 folks gathered together in the corner talking running and racing and the plans for the next day.  Afterwards, some of us were coming back to my house to watch "The Spirit of the Marathon."  All evening I strained to talk. My voice was thick and heavy. My vocal cords seemed like trans Atlantic cables. I could see the strain even in the faces of those I was talking with.  "Gee Tim, slow down, you don't need to use that strained voice of yours so much, " their expressions seemed to say.  But, "I'm fine. I'm doing great. I've turned the corner on this darned cold," I kept thinking to myself.  I was "some of the people, you can fool some of the time."  And then we saw some other friends in the restaurant; the husband was doing the full marathon and we had talked about this being my first attempt at the full, so they knew about my training and quest.  His wife looked aghast as we visited for just a bit.  I read in her face: "you poor deluded soul.  Go home, get in bed, and don't get out until you are better.  And for God's sake, do not try to run a marathon tomorrow morning!"

Dinner service ran a little longer than expected, but since we had a larger crowd and some late arrivals, the restaurant wasn't completely to blame.  But it did make us later getting home, and we decided to skip the movie.  After a few stories and last minute preparations, we all headed to bed.  I felt lousy but wouldn't admit to anyone, not even myself.  I took some kind of night-time decongestant and got into bed.  As my head hit the pillow I was hoping for a last minute cure.  "5 days," someone had told me earlier in the week.  "5 days is how long his cold had run."  Tomorrow morning would be my 5th day...maybe I would wake up and it would be gone.  I knew I'd be weaker from the week; and I hadn't run a yard all week long.  But if I could be rid of this cold, maybe, just maybe I could make it all 26.2 miles.

When I awoke Saturday morning it was still there.  The scratchy needle piercing throat, the sinus headache, the overall malaise; the tickle in my throat that made me want to cough, but I tried my best not to because of the intense pain it would cause. It didn't miraculously leave me on the 5th day. So now I had to consider: do I stay home in bed...by far the most sensible thing to do.  Or do I go ahead and run?  I considered what a great story it would make if I ran, with the cold, and finished with a sub 5 hour time.  It would be one of those Matt Kutcher-type stories I could tell, and would be told for years to come.  But more likely I just thought, if I could just finish.  That would be a great story too.  I wouldn't know, if I stayed in bed.  I had put 4 months of hard training in for that day- I didn't want to leave that in bed, and not even give it a try.  So, my feet hit the floor, and I proceeded to ready myself for the run.

In the kitchen everyone asked me how I was doing.  I strained to say, "ok, about the same. " I could see in their eyes the look of, "you poor deluded idiot...we love you, but 'for God's sake, do not try to run a marathon today'.  But they knew they couldn't tell me that.  If they were in my Asics, they would be doing the same thing.  Too much time, energy, emotion had been invested to not even give it a try.  We ate and pinned and tied, and packed in silence.  Maybe the way kamikaze pilots prepared for their missions.

One of the main things this cold robbed me of for the race was my joy.  I have run this race, the 1/2 marathon 3 times before.  And there has always been such a euphoria as I walked to the stadium amongst all the sights and sounds of a major race like this.  The happy faces of the runners and their families converging on the stadium and starting line. The heroic families of the cancer patients from St. Jude who line the city streets of the run cheering on the runners like each is a personal family member. The feeling of optimism and anticipation that fills the air.  The feel of a big city as I walk beneath the tall buildings -the majestic Peabody Hotel.  And that uniquely Memphis experience of the wonderful aroma of charcoal smoked BBQ ribs at 7:00 AM coming up the alley from the Rendezvous.  But Saturday morning I felt none of those joys.  I felt no joy at all.  I felt dread.  My only game plan, my only hope was that I had trained hard and long enough that I had the strength in my legs to carry me the 26.2 miles of the course.  But at that point, walking the 3 blocks from the parking garage to the stadium bag-check, to the starting line was making me wonder. 

Near the starting line, I got in line for the port-a-potties.  Right in front of me I saw three young ladies wearing running shirts from a running club from my brother-in-law's small home town.  I knew he was a member of the club and surely they would know him -everyone in town knew him.  But I was too tired to even strike up a conversation with them.  Not a good sign.

I made my way to my corral.  I realized it was actually the one ahead of the one I planned on starting with.  But I was too tired to try and make my way through the crowd to get to the one behind it.  There was high energy and banter all around me and one guy from Arkansas reminded me of Danny McBride.  He was pretty funny, but I couldn't laugh because it would hurt my throat and it might start a coughing spell.  And then we started to move slowly to the official starting line.  With each step and stage closer, the weight of my body seemed to get heavier.  The starting line seemed eerily like a finish line: Once I got there, I'd be finished. 

I have only run two different major race events -marathon, half-marathon races; the St. Jude, 4 times, and the Music City/Nashville, once.  So, I don't have much to base this on, but from my limited experience I will say, the St. Jude is one of the most inspiring and emotionally uplifting experiences one can have as a runner.  And as dull and sick as I felt Saturday morning, I still had a wonderful emotional connection to the families who lined the route to cheer us on.  These are the families of St. Jude patients, survivors, and sadly those families of kids who didn't survive. 

Is there anything so sad as a young child struck by a deadly disease like cancer?  St. Jude Children's Research Hospital is fighting childhood cancers everyday...sharing their research...and no child is ever turned away because of an inability to pay.  It takes nearly a million dollars a day to operate the hospital. The St. Jude Marathon is one of the many fundraising events held throughout the year to help with this cause.  I had to fight back tears many times as I saw these families, waving posters with a bald headed, smiling children's faces, for hours and hours on end, thanking us runners for being part of this day.  They called us heroes, but I can't think of anything more heroic than a child and their families enduring the tortuous treatments to rid their small and fragile bodies of the cancer attacking their organs and brains.  There were very few stretches in the route where there wasn't a hand reaching out to give a high five in encouragement.  I couldn't tap into this energy this year, because I didn't want to share my cold with these brave and enduring souls.

By mile nine, I knew I couldn't make it- the whole marathon.  My legs were painful rubber.  I was running as hard as I could just to keep a 13 minute pace.  Normally that would be almost like walking for me.  But it was all I could do to just keep moving forward and I was 17 miles from the finish.  The pacers from the groups behind me kept passing by, and the crowd was getting sparse behind me.  On this perfect running day, with festive bands playing at each mile, the wonderful St. Jude families cheering, cars lined up along Poplar avenue for miles, honking horns and cheering from open windows- St. Jude Heroes signs waving from the sun-roofs, I had to come to the realization that this marathon was not in me.  With this crushing reality, I walked.  I trudged.  My whole body froze in a clammy sweat, and I achingly walked in disgust and disappointment for nearly 4 miles. 

At the split, I told a run official I couldn't make the full marathon.  I was going to give her my d-tag and walk down Union Avenue and go into the stadium to get my bag from bag-check from the front of the stadium rather than the finish lines...in other words...drop out.  She just told me to go the 1/2 marathon route.  So, I figured I'd have this conversation with someone at the stadium.  It was my understanding that if you signed up for the full...and finished at the 1/2 it wouldn't count.  When I got to the entrance of the stadium, the official there told me to just go ahead and cross the 1/2 finish line...it would be fine.  I was weak...disgusted...and demoralized so I just limped along to the finish.  I relunctantly crossed the line, took a medal- not the medal I came for, got a bottled water and slowly headed to the bag-check.  After I got my bag, I walked around a bit, and called my son.  They had finished earlier and were eating lunch at a place a few blocks away.  But all I wanted to do was go home and get in bed.  So I headed back to the parking garage and went home.

"If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans," the saying goes.  My plans for a marathon on Saturday were certainly laughable as it turns out.  However, in light of what happens to people all over the world; in light of what happens to the kids and families of St. Jude, how can I be anything but "ok" with the fact that even with this horrendous cold, I was able to finish a 1/2 marathon, had a wonderful time sharing time with my favorite people -family and friends, through the generosity of friends and family raised $765.00 for St. Jude, and lived to tell about it.  I was really hoping this event would let me know if I had what it takes to run a marathon.  I guess that is yet to be determined.  And there will be, God willing, other opportunities to find that out.  But my disgust, discouragement and disappointment from yesterday has turned into today a resignation to the fact that our plans aren't always "the plan."  And I'm ok with that.  I guess the best plan, is to take life as it comes, because you can be assured it's got something planned you never saw coming.

Focusing on the Moment...Small Steps

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

The Way of Lao-tzu
Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531 BC)

There are times when my weekend long runs seem like a journey of a thousand miles.  It invariably happens somewhere around mile 19.  My legs get heavy and my knees and joints start to ache.  This is also when I begin to focus on the ground just below my footstrikes, rather than the long winding road ahead of me.  When I adjust my focus, my whole body seems to react with a new sense of calm and confidence.  I take the focus off of where I am headed, and even of where I’ve been, and I put it squarely on where I am.  Those few feet ahead of me, are welcoming, and easy to reach.  They are attainable.  I can settle back into my breathing, or my music, and just lose myself in the run once again.

I find this a valuable insight in other areas of my life as well.  In my business life, sometimes projects seem to pile up, and deadlines loom ahead like an oncoming freight train.  Lost business or missed opportunities haunt the past.  But, if I can prioritize and concentrate on the most important tasks at hand, and focus on those immediate needs, I can get things done and then move on to the next task.    

Personal relationships can be bruised and battered by neglect, or even worse by hurtful words or actions.  Thoughts of how to remedy these hurts from long ago can stifle any action to make repairs and reconcile.  If I can separate myself from a past transgression, and make the effort to restore the communication, I can at least put the relationship back on track and onto a road to recovery.  But, I have to concentrate on the here and now, and not think so much about the past or future…those were such terrible things I said…how could I have done such a thing…how will I feel if I reach out and I am  rejected; how will that add additional hurt?  I can’t dwell on a past hurt and I can’t think about a future failure.  It must be the present moment spent with another, to begin to deal with and repair a hurtful past.

I look at my spiritual life as a relationship.  It is simply a relationship with God.  And so, this same thing can happen with my time with God.  Have I behaved badly in the past?  Have I ignored God in pursuing my own selfish interests?  I need to acknowledge my failures in the past, but not dwell on them to the point of further damaging my relationship with God.  “I am sorry, God.  I will do my best to not do that again.”  And then, in the here and now, let’s get on with our relationship.

Sometimes when the road is long and weary; when business seems overwhelming; when relationships are strained and difficult, it is best to focus on the ground just beneath your feet.  That space of the here and now, and focus on small steps to carry you along that thousand mile journey of life.

Ice Bath 2.0



Do You Fear the Ice Bath?



Ice baths. Who loves 'em?  Not me; but like long runs, tempo runs, cross training, stretching, nutrition, blisters and bruises, they can be an integral part of the long distance running experience.  As an obsessively pain-adverse personality, kind of a baby according to my wife, I am in quest of the most effective, yet painless as possible technique of being submersed in Titanic survivor-like water, just for fun and  recreation.

So, here is the latest variation of my ice bath development:  Yesterday after a 20+ mile long slow distance run, I limped into a convenience store on my way home from Shelby Farms.  I purchased a pint of Dutch chocolate milk and two bags of ice.  After burning an approximate 2400 calories according to my Nike+ iPod reading, that chocolate milk was as delicious and satisfying as eating a quart of Baskins Robbins ice cream, and as guilt free as munching on a carrot or celery stick.

The last few ice baths I've had were very difficult on my ankles.  I have bird-like legs, especially at the ankles.  It's the only thing I have in common with the late Paul Newman -skinny white legs.  I'm not sure if it's because my ankles are mostly chicken bone, but they burn like fire in the ice water...an irony I could do without.  So yesterday it occurred to me: why not leave my socks on?  I have been wearing some thicker, Adidas charcoal gray socks on my long runs, that go up over my ankles.  Also, in the past as the cold water is rising, my bottom is very uncomfortable on the tub bottom. So, in yesterday's bath I put a towel, folded over twice, making a nice seat cushion in the tub.

I use the The boil the lobster method.  This is named after the process of putting a live lobster into a pot of cold water and then turning on the heat.  In the cold water the lobster doesn't realize lobster bisque is on the evening's menu.  The same can be said, for opposite reasons for me in the cold water, getting gradually colder. It seems easier at least for me, rather than plunging into the icy water. You may be of a different persuasion on this aspect. Ask yourself: would you rather rip the bandaid off all at once, or peel it off slowly?  For a obsessively-pain-adverse personality like me, peeling is preferable. Maybe I have those chicken-bone legs for a reason...

So, in a nutshell, here's the procedure I used:

Make a nice cup of hot tea...I like Tazo Ginger Green tea.
Put on a long sleeved shirt or jacket. I like a jacket that zips all the way up, so I can take off without pulling over my head.  Also, a hoodie or cap on the old noggin to keep in as much heat as possible on the brain.
Put on a thick pair of ankle or calf length socks.
Place a thick towel, folded over a few times where you'll be seated.
Put one bag of ice at the end of the tub where your feet will be.
Settle down into the tub on the nice soft towel and turn on the cold water.
When the water covers your legs...knees, ankles, thighs and all, add the other bag of ice. Whooooooheeeee

I stayed in for about 20 minutes, which seemed like an hour...but not like a week like usual. With my socks, the towel, hot tea and the hoodie, it didn't seem that bad...quite tolerable actually.  And today?  My hips have a little ache to them, but the knees are good, ankles are good, feet are good. The young lady at the convenience store where I bought my ice and chocolate milk yesterday, wouldn't recognize me today by my gait, anyway.  I'll walk a little tomorrow and then be back on track Tuesday for a 5 miler for my marathon training.

I hope this helps you get into the pool.  And, I'm not convinced this is the ice bath to end all ice bath knowledge. So, for my aching body's sake, if you have a tip you like to use, please forward to me.  Ice Bath 3.0 is out there somewhere; I'm sure of it.

To Get to the Finish Line, You Need a Long Term Plan

The first lesson running has taught me or at least reinforced with me is to have a plan.  I started running rather late in life, or rather, I started running and stuck with it rather late in life.  I had started running on several occasions going all the way back to High School.  But, after each attempt at running I always felt that it was too jarring for me.  And especially after a day or two, when my hamstrings burned, my knees ached, and my calf’s screamed in agony with each step I took, I concluded that running just wasn’t for me. Why would it be for me or anyone for that matter, with all that pain?  “No pain, no gain,” just wasn’t for me.

Maybe it was because I was older this last go around, that I figured I should read what experts had to say about running.  So, I picked up a running magazine and started to read up on the sport.  I came across two guys who have guided me through the past 3 ½ years without too many aches and  pains; however they have given me enough encouragement to keep me out there, running longer and longer distances.  In the pages of Runner’s World, I stumbled across John “the Penguin” Bingham, and Jeff Galloway.  They are a perfect combination for me: I waddle like John, and the run/walk system proposed by Jeff has kept me on the road for all this time.  I’m sure I would have given up on the sport, like in year’s past had I not found that speed, and/or constantly running are not essential parts of enjoying the run and being part of the larger running community.

I used their plans to train for my first 5K back in July of 2007.  And I’ve used their plans to train for everything in between, including my current program to get me through my first full marathon this coming December.  Without a plan, I would be running/training by feel.  I don’t think that would be quite as effective.

I also sought the guidance of local experts.  The guys at my favorite running store, Breakaway Running are runners.  They are serious runners who compete in local races and even in the Boston Marathon.  But they welcome in waddler’s like me as if I was Ryan Hall.  A funny thing about them: they are not sales people.  They are runners who love running, and love sharing the running experience with all kinds of runners, run/walkers, and walkers.  Their goal doesn’t seem to be to make the sale; their goal always seems like they want you to get the most enjoyment out of running with the shoes, or shorts or shirt, or whatever you walk out of their store with. The guys and gals at Breakaway sponsor clinics and weekly training group runs to guide and help people of all talents and abilities develop into the best runners they can be. I’m sure there are Breakaway stores all over the world helping runners along their particular path.

So, why would anyone consider attempting anything of significance without a plan?  A business would never go to the bank for a loan, or attempt to start a business without a solid business plan in place.  One wouldn’t build a house without blueprints.  Who would set out on a long journey without a plan; even if you knew the route, you’d still have to plan for stops along the way to refuel the car, maybe stop overnight, or at least stop for meals.  A plan is simply essential to any long term endeavor.  And isn’t life a long journey, a long term endeavor?

If you have a plan in place for your marathon training, and you follow a plan in your business, what plan or program are you following in your life? Do you have an expert to help mentor you along the journey of life?  As I have mentioned before about the 3 legged stool, life must be treated as one of those legs; so if you are planning your runs, your meals, vacations, money for the kid’s college, your business,…whatever,  you need to have a plan, with experts in your life, in order to keep it all in balance.

My Christian faith tradition includes an enormous library of directions, guides and information from the Bible, the early Church Fathers...and Mothers, to spiritual writers and mystics down through the centuries.  Some of my favorites include Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen, Kathleen Norris, Paul Coutinho, Joyce Rupp, James Martin, Thomas Keating, among many, many others.  I also visit with a Spiritual Director whose gentle guidance helps me stay on the right path.  And I belong to a larger Faith Community that encourages and nourishes me in my faith journey. 

My spiritual life and running life have many similarities: I have a plan, I have a mentor, and I am energized by the larger group.  I hope today your spirits are given the attention they need to help you in your marathon of life.

5 Lessons Running Has Taught Me to Help Keep My Life in Balance

Ever since I’ve been into distance running, all 3 years or so, I have worn Asics Kayanos. I love the snug fit of a new pair, and I love even more the way they seem to age so well with my feet.  But, this is not a review about my Asics.  For, I not only love the shoes, I love the meaning of Asics. To quote from the Asics website:

“In 1949, Mr. Kihachiro Onitsuka began his athletic footwear company (Onitsuka Co., Ltd.) by manufacturing basketball shoes out of his living room in Kobe, Japan. He chose the name ASICS for his company in 1977, based on a famous Latin phrase "Anima Sana In Corpore Sano", which when translated expresses the ancient ideal of "A Sound Mind in a Sound Body." Taking the acronym of this phrase, ASICS was founded on the belief that the best way to create a healthy and happy lifestyle is to promote total health and fitness.”

My father would love this from Mr. Onitsuka; they apparently both had a love for the Latin language.  But, for my life, I would like to add “sound spirit,” to this equation.  A fine gentleman and friend of mine, Don Jordan shared with me some years ago that life was like a stool with three legs.  All of the legs must be in balance or else the stool would wobble, and possibly tip over.  So for this discussion, I would like to propose a three legged stool with sound mind, sound body and sound spirit as the legs. And I’d like to share how running has given me some lessons to help me keep all three of these facets in balance for my life. 

I’ve come up with 5 lessons that I have learned while hitting the pavement, through the heat and humidity, cool icy breezes and glorious blue-sky days; with red sky sunrises and orange sunsets through the trees, and everything in between; from dry dusty gravel roads, paved-paths through the woods, and big diesel-engine-roaring main drags. We runners know all the natural elements that accompany us along the miles and miles as we search for truths, joys, accomplishment and ourselves.

And so, here are my 5 lessons that come from my “road less traveled.” These have been beneficial in helping keep my three legged stool of life in balance.

To Get to the Finish Line, You Need a Long Term Plan

But, Sometimes You Need to Focus on the Moment

Without the Right Fuel, You’ll run Out of Gas

Rest Days are Important

Running and Life are Better with a Group

In the coming days, I will follow up with thoughts and examples of how these lessons fit into my life, and I look forward to comments and experiences you may have that have meaning for you as well.  So, for this Friday I hope you have success in your endeavors this weekend, and that you may find peace and balance in your life.

One of the Many Reasons, Why I Run

Dad and Sean, Elvis Presley 5K

You know how running can clear your head, and let you see things you had never noticed before? But then all of a sudden, out on the road they become so lucid and simple? Well, I had an amazing revelation like that today while running with my oldest son.  Here it is:  I am short. I am short, and my legs are real short. 

I’ve suspected this for some time now.  For instance my favorite place to buy slacks is Lands End, because I can order them online and get the 27 ¼” inseam that I can’t seem to find at any of the stores at the mall.  When I buy running shorts, the 5” or even 3” inseam fit me fine; nothing like the NBA sized shorts I have to choose from in most other styles.  Thankfully the rumpled-around-the-ankle jeans look has been around for sometime, so I’ve been quite fashionable in that respect.  Last week I was at my mother-in-law’s house, and while sitting on her slightly elevated couch, my feet couldn’t touch the floor.  I felt like it was just about time to head off to kindergarten. These things seemed to indicate some kind of height deficit, but nothing really I could put my finger on.

But this morning while running with my son, the nature of my short stature slapped me in the face like the odor from a pair of old running shoes, left in a gym bag for weeks at a time.  Even though he is 6’5”, a full 10 inches taller than me, I noticed for the first time this morning his foot strikes didn’t quite coincide with mine.  So, I asked him to count his right foot strikes, while I silently counted mine while timing us both.  After 30 seconds I asked his count: 32.  Mine was 40. And of course you have to double that, for the two feet we both have, his again significantly larger, and then double it again for a full minute.  The grand totals: 128 for him, 160 for me. For every minute we run, I have to take an additional 32 steps to cover the same ground.  We were running at a pace of 11 minute miles, (my pace not his…he was just hanging back with me) so I was taking an extra 352 steps per mile. Over the course of a marathon, that would be over 9,000 additional steps for me to cover the same distance vs. my son… 

All of a sudden I feel like the Tim Conway character, Dorf.  For me to do the same amount of steps that he does to finish a marathon, 26.2 miles, I would only have to run 20.96 miles.  Or another way to look at it, for him to the same amount of steps as it take for me to finish a marathon, he would run 32.75 miles.

But then I am reminded, that it was a beautiful clear cool morning.  I had two good, albeit short, legs to move me along the pavement, with all the grace and semi-speed I could muster.   And best of all,  I had the chance to talk about life and love and silly stuff for an hour with my young adult son, (who for some unknown reason still likes to hang out with me); he took the time to come over and waddle along with his short stepping, goofy dad.  I realized that short stepping is not the worst thing in the world.  And if I have to run harder and longer, just to keep up, well, that’s what the training is for. And as long as God gives me the breath to power the heart and lungs to push the blood and oxygen through the muscles…(hey for me it doesn’t have that far to travel…an advantage!) I’ll be there enjoying every minute of it. Those are the moments that make running the joyful and life giving activity that I love so much.

My Breakfast of Champions

Let me be clear about this: I am not an elite runner. I am not even a moderately fast runner. As I’ve written here before, I'm a disciple of "The Penguin," John Bingham, which means I am a "waddler." I did finish second in my age division in a 5K race a few years ago...there were 3 guys in the division that year. So, I beat one other guy. My mom was so proud. It was a cold February day, and there was also a 10K race going on…that’s where most of the real men were running. I didn’t even stay for the awards ceremony, not thinking I had any kind of a chance of placing, and so I missed out on my trophy. And then I did finish 3rd in my age division in a small race a few weeks ago- there were 6 guys in the division in that race, so I beat 3 other dudes. I actually stuck around and picked up the plaque in that one. My mom was real proud about that.

My point is simply this: I love running and eating fairly healthy, to feel the best I can. For me running is a relative thing...I compete mainly with myself, and as long as I keep ahead of myself, I feel like the years are not overtaking me quite so fast. So, I thought I'd share my breakfast with you. It's some pretty simple stuff, but put together it's a powerhouse of vitamins, fiber, nutrition, omega-3's...and the best part -I've been eating this same concoction for over 2 1/2 years, almost every day! And I never get tired of it. If you get this right, it tastes like a fruity ice-cream, with the cone crunched up in it. Tell your kids, "It’s an ice cream cone, in a bowl." …I guarantee, they will love it.

1 cup Nature’s Path Organic Multibran cereal
1/3 cup frozen berries...blueberries, mixed strawberries, blues, raspberries
3 tbs Stonyfield Organic Low Fat Vanilla Yogurt
3 tsps chopped walnuts
3 tsps ground flax seeds
1/2 cup Silk Heart Health Soy Milk

I put the frozen berries in the bottom of the bowl, add the ground flax seed and walnuts, yogurt, and the soymilk. I mix that all together, and then add the cereal.

The frozen berries, slightly freezes the soymilk and yogurt to create an ice cream-creaminess, and the crunchy cereal gives it the ice cream cone effect. I've tried other cereals, but this one is the only one that holds up the crunchiness, and it's pretty darn good for you to boot.

So there it is, my Breakfast of Champions. Give it a try and see if it doesn't get you down the road a little quicker.

Saturday Morning's Long Slow Distance Run

This past Saturday morning I set out to attempt my longest run, ever. As I have mentioned in this space before, I am training for a full marathon in early December; The St. Jude-Memphis Marathon on December 4. I have 4, 1/2 marathons under my belt over these past 3 1/2 years, and I figure I'd better have a go at the full, before I get much older. So, according to the training schedule I have been following, Saturday was to be a long run, 14 miles long.

Just a brief side note here: I am using what I am calling a hybrid program of both of my running gurus, Jeff Galloway and John "the Penguin" Bingham. I was in my favorite local running store, Breakaway Running earlier in the week talking with the staff about my program, and it was suggested that John's program which only takes you up to 20 miles may not be the best way to go. I already have a fear of getting to the 1/2 marathon split and thinking "Oh my God...I can't do this 13.1 all over again!!!" And so, I'd like to eliminate the thought on race day of, "Oh my God, I just passed 20 miles and I still have a 10K to go!" So, I'm working to increase some of the miles so I get to or at least closer to the 26.2 of the full marathon. According to the "Penguin" schedule, I was supposed to do 14 miles on Saturday, but in the back of my mind I really wanted to go further. On Tuesday I got in almost 6 miles and on Thursday I did 3.5 in preparation for the 14+ on Saturday.

Saturday morning was gorgeous. At 7:00 am when I arrived at Shelby Farms, the skies were clear blue; the sun was just coming up over Patriot Lake, still blanketed with ghostly fog. The park was filling slowly as there was a charity walk/run around the lake and a major High School cross-country event along the north side of the 42 hundred acres. I had a tough time getting across Farm Road to make my first leg of my run. But once I got past the building traffic I got my iPod music and my Nike+ workout set. I headed slowly to the east, facing the rising sun, onto the gravel road that gently rolls along Walnut Grove Road. Of all the trails and roads on the park, this always seems to be the "road less traveled," which is fine with me. I waddle along in a world of my own, as my feet gently strike the loose gravel, silky dirt and dried grass. It's a sacred connection as I step lightly on mother earth, feeling so connected to all the other living things and beings similarly attached to the planet.

At the top of the second hill, the road turns to the north and heads into a "leash-free" dog area. I'm not a dog owner, but I love to watch the endless variety of dogs, enthusiastically flying though the grassy fields, wagging their tails and tongues in celebration of a freedom they do not have back in their high wooden fenced suburban homes' yards. At that moment, I share the sweet feeling of freedom in my movement along the winding country road. Running gives me this feeling of freedom, from fears and worries; from deadlines and bills due. How ironic this is, since Shelby Farms was at one time a prison farm. Maybe as I run, I am picking up from the ground, the feeling of freedom the prisoners must have felt as they farmed the soil and enjoyed a break from their prison cells.

I came to the turn-around point, about 2.5 miles, and I headed back in the directions from where I had come. I ran along the same road, but it was totally different as I headed with the sun at my back and a nice cool breeze in my face. I passed a few folks on the road- or rather, I passed by a few fellow runners as they headed back towards the leash free area. I NEVER pass folks, other than walkers, who are going the same direction as me. I'm a slow, run/walker, so my 12:20 pace is never a passing gear to other runners. But I love it just the same.

I made my way back to the heart of the park, and it was rapidly filling up. Cars were steaming in like the blood pumping through my working muscles. There were tents, and rides, and inflated jumping contraptions, and corn-dogs frying. Wow did they smell good. I worked my way up the hill going away from the visitors center, and the normally empty grassy hills were filling up with cars. I then headed past the horse stables, and again, normally empty grassy fields were filling up with cars all along the north side of the park. The cross-country event had folks in from Mississippi, Arkansas, counties from West-Tennessee, and I even saw a car from Vermont! The teams of lean arms and limbs, and long haired teenage boys, and whisper thin girls were all around, stretching and twisting and jogging in unison. To me there are few things more graceful than a group of 5-10 young folks jogging together as they warm up for a big racing event. They remind me of a school of fish swimming through the ocean, or flocks of birds- all connected, all moving nearly as one. They also remind me that I wish I had started running when I was their age, instead of waiting nearly 30 years later to start. But, I'm happy I finally started...better late than never.

I was using the Jeff Galloway system of running 30 seconds, walking 30 seconds, running 30 seconds, walking 30 seconds, over and over again. I was feeling strong, like I could run/walk all day long. As I made my way past the major cross-country activities, I closed in on about 7 miles. I was loving the beautiful crisp day, the whirlwind of activities in the park, and my mostly-70's era rock and roll play list of 30 songs I had put together. It occurred to me that if Led Zeppelin perfected the honky-tonk, blues, rock and roll of the Mississippi delta, the Allman Brothers refined it to take it to Carnegie Hall. Have you ever really listened and heard the pounding piano on "Rock and Roll," by Led Zeppelin? It's as if Jerry Lee Lewis himself was killing that piano!

The trail worked me back to the visitors center, and I made my way past Patriot Lake for the 3rd and final time of the day. I had a tough time crossing Farm Road again, as the traffic continued to snake into the park. But, then once again I ound myself on a long, dusty gravel road, making its way through soybean fields. Except for the hum of traffic from the 4 lanes of Walnut Grove Road a hundred yards to my left, I could have been in the middle of the country side somewhere...miles and miles from the hustle and bustle of a million person city.

It was beginning to heat up a little bit, but my Gu packs, and Nuun tab drinks from Breakaway Running were keeping me cool. I hit the 8 mile mark as I passed my parked car and I continued on down the gravel road. I tried to calculate a turn around point ahead, so that I could get in at least 16 miles; I was still feeling strong. After a bit of adding and subtracting, I figured when I hit 12 miles, I'd be four miles from the car. So, I waddled along striving to get to mile 12 where I'd be able to turn around and head home. When I got to mile 12, I still felt strong, but I knew I didn't want to push too much further. I knew I needed to make incremental improvements and that to go "too" far, could put me out of the program for a time to heal from an overuse injury. And so, I thought about how much further I could go on my next long slow distance run, and then I thankfully headed back to the car.

With about 2 miles to go, and Led Zeppelin's "Been a long time since I rock and rolled," playing on the iPod, I actually ran...without walking, for about a mile and a half. This was quite an accomplishment for me considering I had been on my feet for over 2 1/2 hours. But, I was feeling quite strong. And I cruised back to the car, dreaming of the cold Gatorade in my trunk, and the chocolate milk I was going to buy along with a bag of ice at the convenience store on my way home. The milk was delicious, and the ice for the ice bath was, well, cold.

Well, it's now Monday afternoon, and I haven't had any soreness at all this weekend or today. I'm beginning to feel more confident about finishing my first full marathon. As I have said before, I am trying my best, for right now, to trust the process. After almost 16, pain free, strong miles on Saturday, I'm beginning to believe!

Now that was Fun

I just got back from spending a fun weekend in New Albany, MS with my in-laws. It is becoming an annual tradition for my brother-in-law Miles and I to run the BNA Tallahatchie River Run 5K. It's also a tradition for it to be a wet run. In the midst of a pretty severe drought, the cool rain moved in early in the morning hours and lasted through most of the run and into mid-morning. But, after a week of unprecendented high September temps, it was a nice relief to have a cool misting rain, especially climbing the last 3 hills. This course seems like it is all uphill, at least until the final stretch which is all down hill to the downtown finish line.

One of my favorite things about this year's race was that nearly the whole Hall family was running. Most of them for the first time, and some of them after only running a few weeks. It was a great time to reflect that we run to run against our own times, not really against other runners. I admired my brother-in-law Mitch who has had numerous health problems over recent years, and yet he found the enthusiasm to put on the shoes and tackle the course, hills and all. He finished a little over 37 minutes, and deserved a medal more than the guy who ran it in 17 minutes.

I'm already looking forward to next year's run, and seeing Mitch and all of the newbie Hall's improve on already great finishing times.

Weekend Recap

As predicted on last Wednesday, I had an absolutely wonderful time running with my daughter-in-law at the Cooper Young 4 Miler on Friday night. We ran/walked to a finish of 49:42 which was well back in the pack, but it was a fun time together. I am so blessed by this wonderful new addition to our family.

I love the Cooper-Young neighborhood of Midtown, Memphis. There were happy, rowdy crowds almost entirely along the route, cheering us on as we made our way past the decorated homes with bright, white lights in the trees and strung along porches. Some yard parties had bands with horns, guitars, and drums. And of course there was copious amounts of alchohol keeping the spirits high!

My son had a PR in the 4 miler, and admitted it was largely due to the boisterous crowds that spurred him on. We're not used to that kind of special treatment during our usual early Saturday morning 5K's. But, I told him, come December at the St. Jude-Memphis Marathon, it will be even more inspiring as we run by the nearly non-stop crowds. They'll be cheering us on, waving signs and banners for kids in their families, or kids they know, who've spent time at St. Jude. It will be just the thing to keep the adrenalin flowing. I'm very excited as this will be his first 1/2 marathon.

Saturday morning, on my long run, I was at the nine mile mark at the turn around point to head back to do the final 4 miles to the car. It was about nine o'clock and already 84 degrees, quickly ascending to an eventual 99 degrees. My knees were aching and my legs were kind of shaking, amidst all the other aches and pains creeping in. Did I say it was hot??? As I turned around to head back to the car, I wondered to myself if I could actually make it home...or would I have to walk it out. And then I thought of the kids down at St. Jude Children's Research Hospital that very moment, who were undergoing all kinds of cruel and difficult procedures to rid their small bodies of cancer and other childhood diseases. At that point, my pains subsided and the miles ahead all of a sudden seemed short and insignificant. Thinking of all those kids were going through, I surely could make it back down the dusty road to my car. And I did.

I have to say it turned out to be the easiest 4 miles of the day. As I ran I considered: I'm so thankful for my two grown children who never had to experience anything like a devastating childhood disease.

And so I continue to run, toward my goal of running my first full marathon, and to raise money for St. Jude Children's Reearch Hospital. Maybe someday that beautiful structure will be empty, with cobwebs in the patient rooms and doorways, because there will be no need for their services. But until that day, let's work together to put them out of business, by contributing to help them cure all the kids with cancer.

Staying on the Path

So far, so good. I've been able to keep to the plan, racking up the miles and staying injury free. As I say, so far so good. During the month of August I logged about 70 miles, which was slightly ahead of August '09. So far this month, half way through, I've logged nearly 40 miles. So, September looks to be a bump, and maybe my highest mileage ever for one month.

With Friday evening comes one of my favorite races, the Cooper-Young 4 Miler, with two of my favorite people: my oldest son, and his beautiful new bride. She and I are going to take in the route at a leisurely rate, and enjoy the sights. After a nice stroll through one of Memphis' best neighborhoods, with friendly porch parties all along the way, we'll all get together and enjoy a great meal in Mid-Town. And then, hopefully, I'll have the fresh legs to do a 12 miler on Sunday morning. It's going to be a great running weekend.

Don't forget to check out my St. Jude Children's Research Hospital fundraising opportunity on this page.

I'm Running the St. Jude-Memphis Marathon as a St. Jude Hero

Ok! Now the pressure is really on. Over the weekend I went ahead and signed up for the St. Jude - Memphis Marathon on December 4, 2010. And, I have done so as a St. Jude Hero. To learn more about this amazing facility, just click here on St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

What is St. Jude Children's Research Hospital you might ask? Well, for Memphians, if FedEx is the city's heartbeat, and the Tiger Basketball team is the pulse, and Blues Music and BBQ are the life blood, then St. Jude is unmistakeably the soul. It is a place where children with cancer come to get better, regardless of ability to pay or where they come from. Just like cancer is a non-discriminatory disease, St. Jude Children's Research Hospital is a non-discriminatory cancer fighter. Over the years some cancer recovery rates have actually flip-flopped. For instance a cancer that at one time had a 5% chance of recovery, now has a 95% chance of recovery. Absolutely miraculous. And, they share their cancer fighting successes with other hospitals, so even if your child or a child you know with cancer never comes to Memphis, chances are a child battling cancer in your community is benefiting from the research done right here in Memphis at St. Jude. And by the way, it takes about a million dollars a day, to keep the place going. That sounds to me much more daunting than me traipsing along 26.2 miles of Memphis scenery this coming December.

This will be my 4th year to run in this event; my 3rd time to run as a St. Jude Hero, and it will be my first attempt at the full marathon. I can tell you, there is nothing like watching the families, and the children themselves who line up along the route to cheer us on. There is an unbelievable power that comes to the runners, as they know they are the one's who in turn, are cheering on these bravest of kids and their families with funds raised as Heroes.

As I have run along the roads, I have had to fight back tears as I ran and thought of how blessed I have been to have two healthy boys who never had to deal with this disease. And I've had surges of energy as I approach a runner ahead of me, with a picture of a smiling wild eyed, bald child on the back of their t-shirt. When you see a beginning date, and an end date beneath that smiling face, it is impossible not to pick up the pace and ignore the pain of the run.

Running the 26.2 miles for me is going to be tough, I know that. Making a financial contribution in this rotten economy is tough, I know that too. But these kids are fighting for their lives, which seems much tougher than anything I've ever had to do. So, won't you consider contributing to help them in their fight? To make a contribution please click here: Tim Riley's St. Jude Hero Page.

Thank You!

It's not Thanksgiving, but I Can Still be Thankful

Wow, what a week. It didn't seem like such an awesome week, but as I sit here recovering from a hot and humid run this morning, I can think of some pretty neat things I experienced this week, and they add up to an absolutely awesome week.

I read an article in Runner's World by Todd Balf on Sunday evening, about his bad knees. He had gone to some specialists to see what could be done to get him back on the road after dealing with osteoarthritis of the knees. The story didn't end well, and it was doubtful anything could be done for him. He could still bike and swim and such, but road running looked doubtful for him. I reflected on this Monday morning as I headed out to run my 3.5 miles. I was so thankful that my knees don't give me this problem. At 52, they aren't quick, they aren't powerful, and they get a little weak after 10 miles, but they do allow me to get out there and "waddle" along. For that I am thankful.

On Tuesday night I had dinner with an awesome lady. My wife was out of town, and she actually suggested I ask this young lady out for Mexican food, especially since my wife doesn't care for Mexican food, and she knows how much I do like it. So any occasion she can pawn me off on a Mexican food dinner date, she likes it. The awesome young lady? My daughter-in-law. With my wife spending time with her mother, and our son Sean out of town on business for the week, it gave Kristen and I a nice opportunity to share a Mexican meal. The food was great, and I loved spending time with Kristen, just one-on-one. I got to know her even more as a gentle, loving, and deeply spiritual person of faith. I'm very thankful to have had the opportunity to spend time with her like that, and to have her as part of our family.

Thursday night Matt and I went to a Redbirds game. We had great seats overlooking home plate and it was fun just hanging with Matt. A couple beef dogs, Ghost River Ale's, a bag of warm peanuts and a great baseball game -what more could one ask for? Going into the top of the ninth, the 'Birds had a 5 to 1 lead. But the Bees scored 6 runs! I was disappointed, because I wanted to see a 'Birds victory, but also it was getting late...10:00 o'clock, and I was ready to head back home. Extra innings was not something I was hoping for. In the bottom of the 9th, somebody hit a two run homer to tie the game. "Great!" I thought sarcastically, now it's going to go extra innings. But, then another Bird, hit a line drive over the left field fence for a game winning home-run. 'Birds win! And I was glad we stayed, along with the other 1000 or so faithful to savor the victory in person. I was thankful for an evening of great baseball with Matt.

Friday, I picked up my wife Bonnie from her mother's house. Our house is way too quiet when she's not here. She was tired and a little worn out from being out of her element all week long, but she enjoyed her visit...which wasn't nearly long enough for her mother, but I know she was glad to get back home. We enjoyed a late lunch at McAlisters, and then hit the road. It was nice having her back in the house, filling an emptiness that had been there all week. To have the love of my life back in our routine was something to be very thankful for.

And so, I could reflect on some things this week that didn't go my way: my streak ended at 10 on the ESPN Progressive Streak game when the A's beat the Ray's last night, quashing my dream of winning the $100,000 at the end of the month. I bought a couple lottery tickets this week, and broke about even, well short of the $100,000 grand prize there. And there were numerous other minor irritations in the day to day living of the week. But all told, it was a great week, with much to be thankful for.

And so, I thank you Lord for the "ups", and also for the "downs" that make me appreciate the "ups." I'm reminded of the saying: "All sunshine, makes a desert." Here's hoping you relish the things in your life that give you joy, and that you can find it in your heart to be thankful, without the turkey and dressing.

Living, Running and Learning

Last Tuesday, I headed out for a speed workout. For me this simply means running harder on the backstretch of my 3.5 mile run, between the light poles. I run maybe 120 to 150% of my normal pace, for 2 to 3 light poles along the street, and then walk/recover for one light pole. This keeps me from being too much of a slave to my watch, which I do too much of already.

Anyway...I had noticed some slight pain in my right heel that morning. It had been creeping in the week to 10 days prior, especially at night or first thing in the morning. But, I hadn't had any kind of injury in over a year, so I just thought it was just a minor ache or pain associated with running after 50. Ignoring the pain was not a smart move on my part; but running hard with it was really just plain stupid.

When I got home from my speed-work, it was very sore, and as I continued my morning routine of breakfast, shower, etc. it became extremely painful. By lunch time, I could barely walk on it. Oh great! Achilles tendinitis, "just as I begin some of the longer and more intense runs on my marathon training schedule."

But I remembered, "I have had this issue before"- about 2 years ago. So, I was concerned, but I didn't panic. I tried to keep a positive attitude, and decided to ice it, and rest it, and just see what would happen. Over the course of the next two days it continued to be pretty painful, but I did not give into despair; but rather continued the rest and ice.

Today was my first day back on the road, and I am happy to report that I have virtually no pain, just some minor soreness. So, I will put some ice on it tonight as I watch a little TV or read, and hopefully when I step out of bed in the morning, it will be ready for action-a 40 minute run around the golf course.

What lesson did I learn? Two years ago, I fretted, worried and attempted to return to running too soon, never giving my mind or the tendon a chance to relax and heal. Maybe in the future, I'll try to remember to take it easier when the pain first crops up, and definitely not try a speed workout on the sore wheel.

The lessons we learn in life are definitely one of the advantages of aging. I just need to make sure I'm listening, and then have the good sense to act accordingly.

"Trusting the Process"

I have decided to train for the St. Jude - Memphis Marathon later in December of this year. I have run the 1/2 Marathon in this same race the last 3 years, and earlier this year I ran the Nashville Music City 1/2 Marathon; so what I'm saying is, after a modest 3 1/2 year running career, I am going to take a leap of faith and attempt to run the full marathon. I am looking at it as a leap of faith, because after running each of my 1/2 marathons, the thought of turning around, and doing the same race all over again frightens me, it actually staggers me. My biggest fear, is getting to the split, knowing how difficult it has been just to get to that point, and then heading out again for another 13.1 miles. My inner runner is shaking his head inside me, just at the thought of it all.

However, I am learning something new on this new journey: I am learning to trust the process. It is giving me a zen-like attitude towards the marathon, and in my life in general right now. Trust the process.

I am following a program offered by John Bingham and Jenny Hadfield from "Marathoning for Mortals." This program is a 20 week workout that initially has been quite easy for me. I've actually cut back some miles per week, but it will be slowly building to a 20 mile run just a few weeks before the big run on December 4th, 2010. And so, right now I am not thinking too much about the end of the program, which seems daunting to say the least. I am concentrating on the present: getting up early to run 40 minutes before the heat becomes too much and getting in relatively easy 5 to 7 mile long runs on Saturdays.

This, Trusting the Process has been a great addition to my life as well. There are some tough things going on in my life right now, as there are in many people's lives; I don't know how I am going to deal with some big issues facing me. But right now, I'm just taking it one day at a time, trying to do the best I can, with what I have to work with. And, for the first time in a long time, I am able to find a way to trust, to trust in God to be with me through this tough stuff. I am able to trust that God is with me and that whatever is coming ahead, taking it one step at a time, gets me farther along the journey. This, living in the present, and having faith, has helped me find a peace of mind I haven't had for a long time. I'm thankful for my running. It has shone an unexpected light on this for me. I'm hoping for you, that you feel God's presence in your life, through your daily activities like a run, or a walk, or your family or work, or whatever you enjoy doing. Peace.

The Nashville Country Music 1/2 Marathon

This was my first time to run the Nashville Country Music 1/2 Marathon, and my first time to run a "major" race out of town...with a hotel stay and all. First let me say, upon arriving in downtown Nashville Friday afternoon, about 2:00 o'clock, 80 percent of the 30,000 runners and friends seemed to be there as well. The streets were jammed packed and traffic was a nightmare. Streets were filled with out of town cars, locals trying to get home from the office, and several streets seemed to be in the process of shutting down for the next day's race. It was a recipe for massive gridlock. This was the second most annoying part of the weekend.

We finally got to a parking lot somewhat close to the Convention Center, parked the car and walked a few blocks to the packet pick up event. We waded through the sea of people, picked up my packet, briefly walked through the expo, and then headed back to the car. My wife has MS and the walking and the dense crowd of people made her nervous and uneasy. I was lucky about getting through the Expo though, because while we were there I was able to purchase a shuttle pass. The shuttle passes were sold out through the website, so I was thrilled to get one at the Expo.

The hotel was very nice. The complimentary pasta dinner Friday night was good...real plates instead of plastic plates would have been nicer, but the service was outstanding, the food was good and we enjoyed not having to leave the hotel after navigating the horrible traffic all afternoon. We returned to the room, and I set out my gear and packed my bag with everything I would need early the next morning. Early to bed and then early to rise. However, a party was going on in the room next door until way into the next day. My wife said she heard them laughing and going on until 4:00 AM. It didn't help my sleep, that was for sure.

The alarm clock went off, and I slowly got out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, packed my stuff and headed down stairs to the lobby. The sack breakfasts as part of our hotel package was awaiting as were the buses all lined up outside the hotel. The skies were threatening, but still dark. I was so thrilled I had gotten the bus pass the day before at the Expo. On top of everything else, I was glad I didn't have to navigate the road to the race start. Once I got on the bus, the race experience seemed to work like clockwork, unlike the hectic traffic jams of the day before, or the all night laugh-in party in the room next door.

With more than expected traffic on the interstate, we cruised right on by down to the West End for the start of the race.

My Very First Race

My very first race was in late July of 2007. I had eased into running over the previous few months, as mentioned previously here on this blog. As I got into the running culture, I picked up some good books on running, got onto Runner's World and logged in my mileage, and then became curious about running a 5K. Could I actually run that far? Could I finish? That became my humble goal: to finish. So, I signed up for my first 5K run. And then I went into serious training. Getting in the miles, eating better, and looking forward to my first race.


When race day came, I was prepared as any novice could be. I had read the articles from RW, and from the books I had picked up. I had all my race gear lined up and ready to put on first thing. I had been hydrating during the week, and that morning I had plenty of water with my bagel and peanut butter.

July in Memphis is usually a brutally hot time of year. The heat and humidity makes it a tough place to run after about 8:00 in the morning. Well, as if the running gods were trying to give me every advantage possible, a cool front moved through the area on Friday night, leaving Saturday morning as crisp and cool as a day in October. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The race started in front of the Pink Palace, a giant mansion built in 1922 by Clarence Saunders credited with creating the first self-service grocery store: Piggly Wiggly. He built the massive structure for his wife. The 36,500 square foot structure is made of pink Georgia marble blocks, hence the name: The Pink Palace. Currently it is a museum, planetarium and Imax Theater.

The energy of the crowd was addictive for me. I had never been around such a large group of athletic, and positive people in my life. There were other newbies like me, overweight and not as sleekly outfitted as the elite runners for sure. But, the overall energy of the crowd was palpable. I fed off of that energy; plus the nervous energy I brought with me to my first race. I was resigned to the fact that I would not win anything that day, but I felt just as much a part of the crowd, as the antelope looking shirtless, college-aged runners who were running sprints up and down Central Avenue warming up for the race.

As we headed out onto the street, maybe 500 to 600 runners, to start the race, I continued to think in terms of -just finishing, run the whole 5K and just finish. But then I noticed a guy in the crowd a few yards ahead of me in line. He was about 35, and he was significantly overweight. He had on a long beige cotton, plain -plain as in no swooshes, or any kind of logo t-shirt. His gray denim shorts went down over his knees, and his white socks went well over the ankles. And his shoes. They were leather basketball shoes. And then my competitive juices started flowing. All of a sudden, he was a marked man. Yes, I did want to finish, but I also had to beat this guy. I thought to myself: "I won't quit the sport if I can't beat this guy, but..."

So the siren sounded and off we went, up a grueling hill. But the cool breeze was in my face, and sun was hovering over my shoulder...and this was the most exhilarating thing I'd done in a long, long time. As we got to the top of the hill, I was getting concerned. I couldn't catch the big guy. He actually put some more distance between us. And in such a big crowd, before long I lost him entirely. "Well, so much for my new found goal," I thought to myself. I turned my thoughts to my original goal: just finish.

We ran through some of the most beautiful neighborhoods in Memphis. Large, older homes on large beautifully manicured lawns. But I didn't notice them. I was running hard to keep up with my little band of runners I had fallen into. My legs were heavy after a mile, and it was a struggle just to keep them moving forward. I concentrated on moving my knees forward, the rest of the leg had to follow. "Oh God," a water station! I slowed down, got some water, and got back into my pack. It was tough. My body was not accustom to running at this pace, for this length. But I kept pushing myself, trying to keep pace with my little group. I had no idea where the big fellow had gone, but at that point, I was just hoping to keep pace with my little group and not fall back, or have to walk.

We ran through the tree lined neighborhood with little groups of people, mostly families cheering us on, and spraying us down with garden hoses, or sprinklers set up by the street. I kept on pushing myself and trying to ignore the voice in my head that pleaded with me to slow down and just walk it out. And then after what seemed like 100 miles, we turned back onto Central Avenue from the East and we headed back towards the entrance to the Pink Palace. "The last stretch with the finish line in sight!" It was beautiful. I got a new burst of energy and I picked up my pace just slightly, but I did pass a few folks, but was passed by a few others myself as well.

I hurtled past the finish line, exhausted, sweat-drenched, and exhilarated. The race officials pointed me to a table with slips of paper which they told me to fill out. I put down my name, and age, with a trembling hand and then took the slip to another table that had little containers for each age division. By my clock I did the race in 34:45. When I put my slip of paper in the 45-49 bin, there was only one other slip in it. "Could I have placed?" I thought to myself. I had no idea what kind of race times were posted at these events. After all it was my first race. "Maybe I'm pretty good for my age group," I speculated. What a great story, I get a trophy on my very first race. Boston, here I come! This bit of optimism, combined with the runners high, had me feeling pretty good as I munched on a banana and drank a cool berry gatorade.

And then, as I was gathering around the finish line to cheer on the walking moms and dads with baby strollers, and the teams of walkers chatting away as if on a walk around the block, I spotted him rolling in, huffing and puffing; his shirt and shorts were so sweat soaked he looked like he had stopped somewhere along the way to go through a car wash: the big fellow himself. Somehow, somewhere along the route, I had passed him and didn't even notice. As it turned out, other than finishing the race itself, that would be my only victory. The winning times in my age division were in the low 20's, so my 34 minutes didn't threaten any current records.

As I was in my car, driving back home, I took very little solace in beating the big fellow. But, I did revel in the thrill of running my first 5K on a spectacular summer Saturday morning, with 600 of my fellow athletes and new found friends. It is something that has stayed with me over the course of a nice collection of race t-shirts and PR's. And that is one of the things I truly love about this sport: the PR is me racing against me. I don't have to single out anyone in the crowd to beat or surpass, except me. And as long as I can continue to compete against me, I know I will always win, with or without a trophy.

Run 30, Walk 30 -This is Crazy!

Ok, so this is crazy -I read on Jeff Galloway's Blog this week about someone running 30 seconds and walking 30 seconds for a PR in a marathon. I've been doing Jeff's run/walk method ever since I started long distance running 3 years ago. My particular method has been to run 4 minutes and walk one minute; or run 9 minutes and walk one minute. This has worked pretty well for me mainly because it is easy to calculate...every 5 or 10 minutes.

So, when I read about the 30/30 split, I thought: that would be too hard to keep up with, and how could that help you run a faster time? Well, I've been trying it this week. I've run 21 miles -4 miles on Tuesday, 6 miles on Thursday and 11 miles this morning. I've found keeping up with it isn't that hard at all. After a short time I find myself getting into a natural rythym with the timing. I also got pretty good at looking down the road to a point where I figured the 30 seconds would end. These 30 second segments broke up the overall run into mini runs that seemed easy and light.

While running the 30 seconds, I never got tired. While walking the 30 seconds, I always felt anxious to get started running: my times are about the same, maybe a little better than previous weeks, but my mileage is also greater. I felt this morning like I could easily continue after my 11 miles. I felt strong, with no soreness in my knees like I usually would at that distance. I'm running longer, and stronger, and at or better my regular pace. This is incredible. And it is getting me to think about something I haven't serously thought about since I finished my first 1/2 marathon in December 2007...I might entertain the thought of running a full marathon.

Finishing the 1/2 St. Jude in 2007, dashed all hopes of ever running a full marathon. I was elated as I was sore, and beat to hell. The thought of turning around and doing that again was as attractive to me as sitting down with George W. Bush over a cold O'Doul's. I've run the St. Jude 1/2 subsequently in '08 and '09 and I have always convinced myself that the 1/2, was my marathon. But with this 30/30 I'm reconsidering this.

I've got the Nashville Music City 1/2 Marathon on April 24th on my calendar. I'll be using my new found method, and hoping for a new PR...and most of all I'm hoping when I'm through, I might have the inclination, to turn around and do it again. Thanks Jeff.

Lightning's Inspiration

Almost three years ago, I was sitting with my brother on his deck, built outside the third story on the back of his house in Kentucky. It was Memorial Day weekend of 2007 and the leaves of the trees were full, and the grass way down below was crisp and deep bluish-green. At that height, we were literally up in the trees, and we felt like kids hanging out in a tree house. We were both enjoying a cool libation, as our dad used to call them. It was a cool breezy afternoon of relaxation and fun after a morning round of golf…the preferred sport of our family for 3 generations. I and my family were up visiting from Memphis to celebrate the holiday weekend, and the Confirmation of my nephew Drew.

"Are you doing any kind of exercise," he asked me.

"Nope, just don’t have the time," I responded. "I'm going to 6:15 Mass every morning, and then back to the house for breakfast and then off to work. I am involved in…such and such I went on for a few minutes…" All the while I'm explaining how incredibly busy I am, I'm thinking: What a crock! You're too busy to exercise for 30 minutes a day…you don't have one half hour you could spend in physical activity? Booshwa…again a favorite term of our father's.

"Me neither," he said casually as he sipped a cold Budweiser and looked out into the eye-level birds singing, perched high in the tree tops.

I was approaching my 49th birthday and I was as heavy as I had ever been in my life. In fact, just prior to the trip to Kentucky I had gone to the department store to get some new shorts. I knew we would be playing golf at my brother's country club, and I didn't have any nice shorts that fit my expanding waist line. My legs are particularly short, so getting a pair of 38's made me look like a college basketball player, except really dorky. As I looked in the mirror in the dressing room as I tried on pair after pair, I looked like Tim Conway's character "Dorf."

All of the nice shorts, the real golf shorts, that fit me in the waist looked more like ballooned-out capris on me. They hung about 2 or 3 inches below my knee caps and were baggy as clown pants. My hairy white legs looked like dirty toothpicks sticking out of whiskey barrels. I couldn't bear the thought of walking through Mike's clubhouse looking like Ronald McDonald' caddy. I finally found a pair that had a shorter inseam, and fit around the waist ok, but they weren't really golf shorts. They were more of a sad hybrid of golf shorts and hiking shorts. The back pocket, which was just a patch of fabric sewn to the back of the shorts, fastened with Velcro. The only proper place for Velcro on a golf course is on a golf glove, not on a gentleman's pants. And worst of all, they had an elastic waist band. Oh the humility. It had come to this: as I was approaching AARP membership status, I was also adding elastic waist band pants with Velcro fastened faux pockets to my wardrobe to accommodate my expanding waist line. And yet, I was too busy to exercise.

For much of the remainder of the weekend and the drive home to Memphis, I was haunted by my own words, my own pathetic excuses for not having enough time to exercise. And then a few weeks later, I was shocked into a new sobering and devastating reality. I was slowly walking down a long staircase in a loose fitting golf shirt. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed myself in horror as I stepped down and down and down the stairs in agonizingly slow-motion; and there they were. How had they gone so undetected by me up to this point in my life? Why hadn't someone said something to me? My wife? My kids? A close confidant? Granted, it's not something nice people say to other nice people. But, someone should have told me about them before I took them out in public like that. Why hadn't someone told me: I had man-boobs -Phil Mickleson, man-boobs! The red shirt I was wearing made me look like C.J. Parker running down the beach. What happened to Mitch Buccanon? That's when I decided I better find some time to exercise.

The next day I went to a strip mall shoe store looking for a pair of walking shoes. I hated running. I had always hated running, and I had no intention of running. I would be a walker. I would log in miles and miles of happy trails, at a brisk pace and conserve my knees and legs, joints and sanity. I would be the tortoise, never the hare; and I would persevere and stay the course and walk off the pounds and get back into my 32's -without elastic waist bands. I picked out a nice, rugged looking pair of New Balance 473's. They were light and cushioned and I liked the blue and gray colors; really great reasons to buy a pair of shoes, right? Well, at that time I sure thought that was the way to buy shoes.

Did I mention, I really hated running? I had tried it before, going all the way back to high school when Frank Shorter, and Dave Wottle were making headlines from the Olympics. But back then, I ran too far too fast, and my muscles burned like molten lava pits for a week. I was so sore, I walked gingerly around school, unable to bend my knees or hip joints; I looked like I had crapped in my pants. I tried running a couple times again over the course of the years...even did a 10K but mostly walked that...but same soreness always happened, except brutal pounding and shaking of my frame was added to the list. It just wasn't for me…at least it wasn't for me the way I was doing it.

And then, one day -one bright and sunny summer, early evening, I was out about half way on my daily brisk walk. Clouds started to gather on the north east horizon. Big zeppelin shaped clouds rolled over head, and an unfamiliar chill entered the breeze…unfamiliar for that time of year anyway. And then my moment of inspiration for giving running another try happened: Lightning. In the distance, lots of lightning and much rain and maybe even hail to follow. I was a mile from my house, and so the 473's instinctively picked up the pace. I started to jog, and then I was no longer a distinguished British gentleman out for an evening stroll, I was Eric Liddell of Chariots of Fire, and I was hauling ass back to the house. And as I'm running, I'm thinking: "hey this isn't so bad. I'm not being jarred like I remember, like an old jeep driving down a dry rock strewn river bed. This is kind of enjoyable." I got home, out of breath and much more sweaty than usual, but not electrocuted, not hail stung, not drenched from the coming downpour. But, I was kind of high. I was feeling pretty darn good. My first runner's high. And then the real miracle happened. The next day, I was not overly sore! I did not have the crap walk. I actually felt pretty good.

This event started me down the pathway of running which I have maintained with joy, and wonderment, and strains and pains to this day. I graduated from walking to running and thus joined the brotherhood and sisterhood of running, all because of a bolt of lightning on a summer evening almost 3 years ago.

Of the many, many things I have taken from the experience of running, maybe the one most important is: you don't have time for exercise, you have to make time for it.



I still resemble Dorf, or at least Tim Conway's "old man," who shuffles along, when I run. But for me, that's ok. I'm out there running, every week and loving it to death. I follow John Bingham, "The Penguin," and Jeff Galloway, the proponent of run-walking. I'll never get to the Boston Marathon as a participant. But again, that's ok with me. I'll waddle along, as long as I can; enjoying the sport I have come to love, even now that I do have my AARP membership. I have taken to heart John's slogan: "The miracle isn't that I finished, the miracle is that I had the courage to start." So as John also tells us all, "Waddle on," Friends.

My Take on the Healthcare Debate...a Personal Story

I was contacted yesterday evening by Tony Garr of Tennessee Health Care Campaign, a health care reform advocacy group headquartered in Nashville. He asked if I would be willing to do an interview with the Memphis media. Channel 3 News was doing a story on the affects on local small businesses from the federal health care reform bill which was passed late Sunday. I am a small business owner, and Channel 3 wanted to get perspectives from both sides of the issue: one business that was opposed to the reform, and one in support of it. I was nervous about doing the interview, not wanting to look like the Albert Brooks character in "Broadcast News," who gets called on at the last minute to go on camera to fill in the Sunday Evening news chair. He develops a disturbing but hilarious case of flop sweat. But my interviewer, Danya Bacchus quickly put me at ease and I tried my best to be calm and poised.

I told Danya at the outset that I was not smart enough to know all the answers to this extremely complicated problem, but I thought I could at least offer my story to show how the failure of the system has affected me and my family. Within the limited amount of time that any 10:00 o'clock news story allows, I think my story was given a good look. However there were two points I made to Danya that were not able to make it to air time, I'm sure due to time constraints.

Please do not take the following quote out of context. I am not comparing insurance companies or the current health-care system to Nazi Germany. But I do believe this quote will illustrate my point about speaking out and taking a stand on this issue. Martin Niemoller said in a speech in 1946 to describe the inactivity of many of the German people during the time of the Nazi's:

"They came first for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up."

Fourteen years ago, insurance premiums for my family, even with my wife's MS were significant, but manageable expenditures. However, over those years, the premiums have grown into the single largest item(s) in our family-business budget. For us, this expense is larger than our mortgage, utilities, cable bill, and phone bill combined. And I might add, these are policies with maximum deductibles, which mean we have further significant out of pocket expenditures as well. For those of you who have good insurance policies through your work, you are blessed. And I am happy for you. But, whether you realize it or not, your employer is going through the same kind of premium creep that we have experienced. It's just not quite as drastic as in our case because of group policies, depending on the size of your company. We have individual policies; one for my wife with MS, and one for myself and our one college aged son living at home. We have no access to a group policy because of the nature of my independent business. And we have no choice in insurance policies with other insurance companies for my wife because of her "pre-existing condition." She is as the insurance industry terms it: uninsurable.

I ask you, as an employee haven't you had to make ever-increasing contributions to your insurance coverage over these same 14 years? Do you think your employer is just trying to get out of paying for your insurance? My guess is they are right there with you having to find money from their bottom line, to match with yours to pay for ever-increasing premiums. Whatever your contribution is today, I'll be willing to bet that it will double or triple, like ours has, over the next 10 to 15 years, if we don't get a handle on this problem.

The second point I want to make is that this problem is affecting your neighbors. Yes, neighbors as in, people who live in your neighborhood. It is happening to the people across the street, and around your corner, at the end of your cove, not just folks who live on the other side of town, in subsidized housing and run down neighborhoods, or wherever you think they live. The face of this problem looks just like the one you look at every morning in the mirror. It's not "out there," somewhere. It may even be in your own family -a brother, sister, cousin, son or daughter.

It's easy for some people to put this off as an issue for "those" people, who don't work hard enough, or don't have the will to pick themselves up by their bootstraps. But the reality is, it does affect millions of people who pick themselves up by their bootstraps, but have been hit with a difficult, long term, chronic disease through no fault of their own. How fair is it, how American is it that someone really trying to live the American Dream, trying to soar with the eagles, is overwhelmed by a financial tsunami of enormous insurance premiums and never ending medical bills? So, don't look downtown, or north of town, or south of town to see how this problem is affecting people, you can look right across your own street.

So, what's the solution? I've already said, I'm not smart enough to solve all of the problems that this issue holds. But, I do find it a problem that we've given so much control of our health care system to private insurance companies. Not that the private sector is bad; heck I'm an entrepreneur myself, owning and operating my own business for 14 years. I'm a big fan and beneficiary of private enterprise, and the cherished American ideals of self-sufficiency and personal responsibility. But, what if we gave control of our police and fire departments to private industry? What if at some point the police-company determined it was not profitable to go to certain neighborhoods; too far from the stations when gas prices rose sharply or too dangerous for their officers to patrol or even answer 911 calls? Or, what if the fire-company wouldn't answer an emergency call to a house made of all wood, because the owner should have known that his house would be more susceptible to fire than an all brick home right next door? In the same way, we have let the insurance companies cherry pick the healthiest and least costly individuals for them to insure, while excluding others through outright denials -as uninsurable, or priced them out of the market with exorbitant premiums. I do not believe the profit motive has served us well when it comes to our health-care, just as I don't believe profit would be a proper place for police and fire protection.

Although the mechanics of this problem are far beyond my intellectual capabilities, let's break it down to a somewhat simple proposition. We as a society have to ask ourselves this question: is health-care a right or a privilege? If you think it's a right, then quality care should be available to everyone, regardless of health circumstances and or economic situations. If you think it is a privilege, then I would like to appoint you…you personally…to be the single person in charge of deciding who gets proper care, and who gets denied. Would you make your choices on ability to pay? Would you make your choices on how sick someone was, or what type of disease they had; or would you decide based on what part of town they came from? With that power, I would like for you to reflect that the Good Samaritan considered none of these criteria when he helped someone who was put on his pathway in need of help. What about the two priests on the same road? And secondly, would you want the person living across the street to have this same kind of power? After all, he or she may be the last one to speak up for you; shouldn't you do the same, before there's no one left to speak for you?