Rejoice, we conquer.

Those are the alleged last words of Pheidippides right after he reached Athens with news of the victory in Marathon. It's doubtful that this story is true, but it's a great sentiment that encompasses marathon victory. Of course, legend also has it that he died right afterward.

I was reading a friend's blog that she started about her quest to qualify for the Boston Marathon. By the way, it's really good and can be found heeyah:

http://twentysixpointtwoormore.blogspot.com/

Anyway, a friend of hers asked her to name her favorite race ever. That got me thinking that I'd never written a race report about my favorite race. After Boston 2006, I started making race reports after important races. They included some running geek stuff, some personal insight stuff, and some miscellaneous stuff. I'd usually share them with friends and/or post them on the Running Times forum. However, I never thought about doing a report on my hands-down all-time favorite race.





That's a photo of me after the 2004 Grand Rapids Marathon. Landon is hugging me and I am actually crying tears of disbelief and joy. As much as I love running, that's the only time that a good race brought tears. My emotional reaction was due to the fact that I had just accomplished something that I thought was impossible. Like most people in life, I've set a few goals and achieved them. Getting my doctorate was a tough goal, but I never thought of it as impossible. Same with previous athletic goals. However, qualifying for Boston was different. Qualifying for Boston was something that I thought was never going to happen. At the instant this photo was taken, it was the first time in my life that I'd ever achieved the impossible. It might also be the last because, at least for me, moments like that don't roll around very often.

Of course, I thought qualifying would be well within reach when I ran my first marathon. I was 28 and thought that some good times posted during training were sure signs that my first marathon would be fast. I didn't quite expect a Boston qualifier, but I did expect to be able to manage something around 3:15. What ended up happening is that my friend John and I went out WAYYYYY too fast, paid for it over the last 8 miles and literally limped in with a 3:45 in the 1994 Marine Corps Marathon. The only saving grace is that we beat Oprah, who was also appearing in her first marathon that day. After recovering, I still thought I had a fast marathon in me. I was stupid the first go around, but proper pacing would win the day in my next attempt. That happened one year later. I was partially correct. I paced much better, slowed a little at the end and got a 3:33 in the 1995 Marine Corps Marathon.

This got me to start thinking that I should make my goals a little more reasonable. Breaking 3:30 would be a good start. I set my sites on this goal and trained with my brother and his friend Marvin for the 1996 Marine Corps Marathon. To make an excruciating story short, I felt so bad during this marathon that I quit at the halfway point; already well off pace. I tried to redeem myself one month later in the Philly marathon and clicked yet another 3:45.

After this disappointing effort, I met a few good running friends that pushed me. I could tell I was getting faster so I was eager to see what I'd do in the 1997 Philly marathon. The answer was 3:35. This is when the reality hit that I probably wasn't ever going to break 3:30, much less qualify for Boston. Actually, the qualifying for Boston part was passed off as a pipe dream a couple of years earlier. After this race, I stopped running races for a while. Dawn and I got married and I was starting a new job at Michigan State. My competitive fire was stoked by my new job and I felt like any running goals were ludicrous in the face of all my new responsibilities. I ran a bit, but it was without any immediate performance goals.

Then I read the book "Running with the Buffaloes" by Chris Lear.



Lear spent the 1999 season with the University of Colorado cross country team. It's a remarkable book for many reasons, but what grabbed me was the immense amount of mileage that these kids ran. Before then, I'd subscribed to a "quality over quantity" approach. However, here was a team that was consistently among the best in the country and their "secret" appeared to be simply running more than other teams. It dawned on me that every training cycle I had gone through I had only changed the quality of my training. I had tried the latest interval workout, tempo run and carbohydrate loading schedule. I had never gone old-school; that is, I had never just put my body through as many miles as possible and come back for more. Fifty miles per week had always been the line that, if crossed, threatened to cause overtraining, injury, and fatigue. Nonetheless, running high mileage was the one thing I hadn't tried.

I began by running an hour a day and just added to that every three weeks. It was far from exciting and glamorous, but I gradually ratcheted past the daunting 50/week mark, on to 70 and was averaging in the 80's for a while by my best estimations. I did add in track workouts and tempo runs, but the cornerstone of the program was miles. Paradoxically, I minimized my long run to a maximum of 2.5 hours a week and probably only ran over 16 miles one time. I just focused on consistently running a lot of miles every day. Some days I'd do it in one big run; some days involved two shorter runs. I remember visualizing that I wanted to become someone who could fall out of bed at 2:00AM and begin running and my body would immediately respond. I don't know when I started to think about qualifying for Boston. It might have been there right from the beginning. I do remember thinking that this mileage thing was working when I broke my 10K personal record by 45 seconds on a hot July day. I had barely touched any interval or track work; yet I easily coasted to a fast (for me) time. By then, I'm pretty sure that I began to think of the Boston Qualifier as possible. At least it wasn't a pipe dream anymore.

By the time the marathon came around I knew I was ready for a big race; I just wasn't sure how big. Charts, tables, and other methods of estimation suggested I could break 3 hours if I had a good day. However, I would take the Boston Qualifying time of 3:15. To make sure I gave the latter my best shot, I started the race with the pace team that was gunning for that specific time.

I remember our first mile was way too fast. Something like 6:45. After that, our pace team leader composed himself and started clicking off 7:20's. We were faster on some, slower on others, but I consistently felt like we were out for a jog. I wasn't getting tired and felt like this was all some big warmup. The miles kept clicking off and I wasn't feeling it. I wasn't taking in carbs other than the gatorade at the aid stations, and I honestly wasn't having much of that. I was a good 7 years older than my last marathon effort, but my legs felt younger. That was the story through mile 18. Then I decided to see what I could really do during the last third of the race. I took off and left the pace team with the pace leader exhorting me to "get going". Adrenaline got me a 6:45 for the next mile and then I began to click off consistent 7 minute miles. I couldn't believe it. I was passing so many people at a point in the race where I was used to being passed. I started to fatigue a little towards the end, but it was nothing like the past. I cruised through the finish line in a 3:10:12. It not only qualified me for Boston, but it would have qualified me even if I were 10 years younger.




I sat down so a volunteer could take my race chip off. It still hadn't dawned on me. I was just happy to get a good time. While I was sitting, Dawn came over and said "We're going to Boston!". I loudly echoed her phrase "We're going to Boston!" and Landon came up behind me and gave me one of his patented bear-hugs. I began crying the aforementioned tears of joy. At that moment in time, the weight of achieving the impossible had just gone from my head to my soul. Not surprisingly, this connection didn't happen until I shared the accomplishment with the people I love the most. Later I found out that I had actually finished 3rd in my age group. I still have that trophy in my office today.

I've run enough since then to realize that 3:10 isn't elite, nor is it even sub-elite. It's just a time that a guy with ordinary athletic ability thought was impossible but achieved one day. A time that many others routinely equal or beat. I might run faster than that one day, or I might not. Regardless, I won't ever feel the sense of awe that I felt; at least not from another race. Between age and experience, I now know too much to think that I'll end up with some other extraordinary running accomplishment that I currently think of as impossible. I'll have to settle for the kind of achievements that we typically get in life, the kind that are attainable, but take work. I thank God for those achievements, but thank Him all the more that I have a picture of achieving the impossible.

Show up for life.

My brother's friend Nate once got a C in swimming while he was at JMU. Nate was actually a really good swimmer but didn't always find his way to the pool at the appointed class time. On seeing his grades, Nate's dad told him about how disappointed he was that Nate didn't "show up for life". I've thought about that phrase and used it a bunch. People talk so much about how you have to buckle down when things get hard, grit your teeth and get after it. I've actually found that all you need to do is show up and do what you are supposed to be doing. It works.

Landon received really bad grades after 7th grade. Instead of popping off and throwing a tantrum like I had done before, I told him to start showing up for life. Specifically, just go to class and do what you are supposed to do. I went on to say that this is especially effective in public schools; where they are amazed and give you awards if you show up for life. I asked him to just turn in all his homework for a year. I promised I wouldn't give him crap about how neat it was, how he should double-check answers, etc. He just needed to turn things in on time that were at least approximations of what he was supposed to do. The result? He's received almost all A's and B's and is now taking mainly honors classes.

Whenever I don't feel like doing some mundane task at work or, more frequently, when I don't feel like lacing them up and running; I show up for life. It's not perfect, it's not a thing of beauty, but I'm there and I'm doing more than I feel like doing. Quite frankly, I'm doing more than most people, which I guess is why showing up for life works. There's always five others who aren't.

Who knows, maybe I'll make this in to a self-help book. I'll go on speaking tours and wow them with this incredibly simple philosophy. At minimum, everyone can be sure that I'll show up.

In this corner..................

Landon has officially made weight and is now eligible to compete in his first year of wrestling. To do so, he had to get down to 285 pounds. That's 30 pounds less than his typical weight and 50 pounds less than his weight at this time last year. This has been a cool journey for the entire family and as an exercise science geek/frustrated athlete; I have of course made many observations.

*-It is amazing how much different someone can move with 30 pounds off their butt. He looks amazing, he moves amazing and he can do things he just couldn't before.

*-He has an amazing A.Q. or athlete quotient. By that I mean he can pick stuff up very quick. He's really only been wrestling for a bit over a month but he already has pinned 2 kids and beat another by 15 points in his nine matches.

*-There's no substitute for experience. Two of those other matches were losses to kids that frankly looked a little short and dumpy. However, they were both experienced and knew what they were doing. In a third match he got pinned by a kid that was strong, quick AND knew what he was doing. Humility has been among the good lessons learned by wrestling.

Seeing Landon pay the price to learn and adapt has been inspirational to me. I usually am the one urging him to go the extra mile, to pay the price to be the best he can be. However, his silent but strenuous actions have inspired me to do the same in work, running and life. Sometimes you get the nice payback that your kids teach you something you've been trying to teach them all along.

There's always one good part of a visit.....

....arriving or leaving. That's something a friend of mine in Michigan told me.

Which brings me to my visit to Orlando. We went down to Orlando for Dawn's family reunion. A good time was had by all and here are some assorted observations.

1) Dawn's family is a high energy molotov-cocktail of a social scene. One evening I swear 3 or 4 conversations were happening among 6 people. I was getting a headache. Nobody is introverted. It's like stepping in to a cage with puppies and two-year olds. They're real cute, but you'll be exhausted before you know it.

2) You still gotta give it up for Disney World. I'm a roller coaster freak and love any ride that threatens to throw my lower intestines through my nose. Disney has none of this, but remains the most amazing place to drop 75 dollars to stand in line all day. We were in a line at 11PM, everyone was tired, but the entire tired, slow line was dancing to the music pumping through the park. The only place on earth you are going to see sober people do that.

3) Fan allegiance is overrated. After getting to Orlando, I remembered that Michigan State was playing Georgia in the Citrus Bowl. I scored three tickets on Stubhub and we had a GREAT time at the game. What was most intriguing is that I was completely neutral during the game. Landon was for Georgia, since they've been sending him recruiting letters, so I was in their corner a bit. However, there was good ole Michigan State. The same Michigan State that paid my salary for 7 years. I used to follow them, go to their games, read about them in the paper and follow their recruiting in the offseason. Now I'm iffy because the other team MIGHT want to give my kid a scholarship. Allegiances die easier than I thought.

4) We don't know everyone in East Lansing. We were looking around for people we thought we might know at the game. Sounds a little silly, but we were somewhat surprised that we didn't know any of the estimated 30,000 people wearing green.

5) My heart almost exploded, but we made it. Right after the bowl game, I pointed the SUV towards Harrisonburg, VA and set out knowing that we were going to drive straight through the night or stop at a cheap hotel. I also figured that we could meet our goal of driving straight through if Dawn took a 2 hour shift so that I could have a power-nap. Didn't happen. I felt great until 3AM when my sleep-deprived brain got me closer to an LSD trip than I'll ever get in my life. At that point, it was a little pointless to get a hotel for 4 hours and Dawn was so out of it, I would never have been able to nap knowing that she was manning the wheel. I then proceeded to jack myself up on every legal stimulant possible. First, I took a "Rockstar" shot, which claims to have 200mg of caffeine plus some other legal uppers. I chased this immediately with a diet Mountain Dew and then dipped enough tobacco to melt my gums away. We got home around 6AM, just in time for said stimulants to begin to wear away and the natural LSD trips to begin again. After stumbling upstairs to my bed, I began to feel heart palpitations. I get these if I have too much caffeine. I nodded off, not so much worried about a heart attack, but whether the heart attack would prevent the sleep I so desperately needed.

Now I'm back, mostly recovered and ready to get back in to a routine. Overall a good trip and I'm especially thankful that we got to catch up with Dawn's family. That's something that doesn't happen near enough. A lot of other stuff happened which may or may not make it's way in to future posts.

Weighty issues

Judging by the stats on Americans and obesity, I am in danger of becoming a minority. To make it plain, I feel like I'm a minority because during certain parts of the year, I become the rarest of creatures; a skinny heterosexual male who is trying to lose weight.

I do so not because of some eating disorder, self-esteem issue, or latent manorexia. I get that way because simple physics and 15years of running road races tells me that extra pounds slow me down. I know, revolutionary right? So, I have developed the following weight scale that gives me an approximate idea of where I am in terms of running performance.

180 lbs and higher: Training hurts, climbing stairs hurts, life hurts. Even on days when I think I'm going fast, I look down at the watch at the end of a run and am dismayed by how slow me and my jiggles just turned that six miler.

175lbs: Just light enough to fool myself in to thinking I am in "shape". Enough pounds shaved off that I can have the odd good day and like what I see on the watch. Heavy enough that I still don't like running very much and am not very good at it.

170lbs: The threshold to real running. Around here races can happen. None of these races will be PR's, but neither will they be embarrassing ordeals complete with a death crawl at the end. I can even do some decent track workouts at 170.

165lbs: OK, I am really running again. Some PR's have come at this weight. I am getting a tad skeletal, but I am generally and unequivocally in shape.

160lbs: I look like a skeleton with a condom pulled over it (to borrow an expression from Mark Wetmore), but am fast (for a 42 year old dude without any natural speed). This is also a lot of fun, because some sort of critical synergy of mileage and enjoyment occurs to where I can just about eat anything I want at anytime. I couldn't bench press Dawn's 10lb dog, but as far as running goes...it's on.

This is by no means a scale meant to assess health or attractiveness. It's a purely running thing. However, like most minorities, I get comments and accusations. First, and foremost, my wife puts up with anything under 180 and abhors anything under 170. Second, friends, including chubby friends, comment that I'm "too thin" or "unhealthy" looking. This really intrigues me. Anyone feel a personal freedom to tell them they are "too fat" or "unhealthy" looking? No, but let's hold an intervention for the skinny guy. I kid, no interventions have happened yet.

These comments are also met with the vague concerned look that I can only assume is related to a concern about an eating disorder. Again, to clarify, I eat more calories than just about anyone I know. I'm focused on weight entirely because of running performance. When running performance isn't an issue, I think about what I eat about as much as your average trucker.

As of this writing, I don't have definite racing goals in the forseeable future. Thus, I will probably be helping myself to several upcoming Holiday treats. I guess in the minds of several, this will make me more "healthy"?

What kind of prison?

So, I'm always talking about how cool it is to have a teenager. How you can relate to them, do fun stuff, avoid watching the same inane program 50 times in a row. Stuff like that.

Well, at some point the teenager bill comes due. Teenagers are fun, but the stakes are just a wee bit high. Your little one messes up and they skin a knee. Your teenager messes up and you are a grandfather or getting them out of prison.

.....speaking of prison, Landon has a girlfriend. When I heard this, I calmly asked Dawn and Landon about her. They said it was one of the football managers and told me which one. "Cool" I said, as all my dealings with this young lady have been positive and she seems very nice. Dawn then switched to a tone that she often uses when she wants to tell me we're overdrawn or that we need a new car.

"Yes, she is very nice, but there are a few issues at home. She's being raised by her mom because her dad's in prison".

"Oh"

I honestly didn't know where to take it beyond "oh". I mean, I shouldn't think worse of this kid because her dad screwed up. Furthermore, I don't know whether this is tax evasion or whether this guy cut someone up and set the parts on fire. However, when it's your kid, every stereotype and worry you can have comes out and comes out quick. While leaving the "oh" hanging in the air, the real me is thinking:

"She's gonna get pregnant because she's looking for male attention"

"This low-life prison dude is going to try to suck off of Landon's athletic future"

"I'm going to turn around and this guy is going to have Landon jumped in to his gang"

(as an aside, why are there gangs in Harrisonburg VA????????)

Not that I'm proud of any of this inner dialogue, that's just what rolls through your mind when it's YOUR kid. Not very progressive, but this is my kid; not a court of law or human resources.

Dawn made my night complete when she said I should have a talk with him. About what? He hasn't done anything. Actually nobody's done anything except apparently this girl's dad. Should the talk go something like "Landon, avoid any gang this guy is in while keeping this girl from roping you in to getting her pregnant. Also check for signs of crack....you know how it is. Oh, since we're in a rural setting, check for meth as well; can't be too careful. Anyway, I love you and trust you, no matter how many progeny of incarcerated felons you date. Need anything to drink?"

Well, maybe I can join the rival gang......just in case I need backup.

Hurry up and wait.......

What a great morning. I just had an incredible weekend seeing my college friends for Homecoming. One running highlight is that I did an 11-miler w/ Riz and Beth. I'll also interject that Beth is going for her first marathon and has some talent based on her strength during said run. I'm predicting a burgeoning runner for Mrs. Risdon.

Anyway, it was fabulous to see everyone and I didn't stop laughing the whole time.

I also made a final decision to do shorter races this spring instead of Boston. I knew I made a good choice as I did an hour and 18 minutes this morning instead of my short shake out run. The thought of busting some fast times this spring really got me motivated.

Five hours later, I find myself with chills and aches and pains. These symptoms exactly describe the malady that has plagued my wife for the past two weeks. So much for today being the first day of a new training cycle. Such moments in a training program teach us that training plans and schedules are what we make before God tells us what actually happens.

In the immortal words of Dan Patrick. I'm day to day........we're all day-to-day.