Archive for the ‘New York City Marathon’ Category

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4 days until the New York City Marathon, and I am lucky enough to be running it.  Every marathon I’ve run has had a unique quality to it, but New York is something special.  Unlike THE marathon (Boston, duh!) which is pretty homogenous, New York is an adventure through a variety of cultures and neighborhoods.

Much like the Vermont 50, my approach for New York is simply to enjoy the sights and sounds.  It will be the first time I run a marathon in this fashion, and I can’t wait.  My original plan at last year’s New York City Marathon was just to enjoy it.  I had just qualified for Boston 5 weeks earlier and it seemed to make sense that I should just have fun.  But I let temptation get the better of me.  I was in peak physical shape; I was rested; I wanted to improve my position.  I decided that I should take a shot at 3:15 and see what happened.  It didn’t end too well.

This year, though rested, I am not anywhere near peak physical shape.  Though I am getting back into the swing of regular running, my mileage is still low.  I’m 10 lbs. heavier than I was last year.

Sometimes it’s wonderful when certain decisions are taken out of your hands.  I don’t have the option of going for a PR, so this time around it’s all about fun.  I get to run a slow, easy marathon.

Do I have a time I’d like to beat?

Well,yeah.  I would like to finish better than I did in my very first marathon (where I spent 20 minutes with my feet anchored to the ground like tree trunks at mile 20), but you know, if I don’t then I don’t.

I plan on stopping for every friend I spot or hear along the way, exchanging hugs, taking a picture and maybe even drinking a beer or two.  If you’re gonna be out there watching, let me know.  I’ll be checking my phone  and tweeting along the way.  Hopefully I don’t end up like this:

New York ’11 may be my worst marathon ever – and you know what?  I’m totally psyched for that.

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Thank you.

Thank you to all who helped push Jess over $10,000 in our fund raising efforts for the Autism Speaks Walk here in Boston. Due in part to your efforts, as a team we were able to raise nearly $30,000 in total.

As many of you know, I had promised that if Jess reached $10,000 raised by Walk Day, I would run my next marathon with Blue-dyed hair.  My next planned marathon was the Sugarloaf Marathon.  After reaching her goal, Jess asked when the marathon was going to take place, I told her May 2012.

Dead silence.

“What?” I asked her.

It’s too far away she would tell me.  She followed that up with saying that she had not mentioned in her donation requests the “marathon” part of my offer.

That was kinda the point I thought. 

Well, I guess they’re just gonna have to wait, I said.

Uh, no, was her reply.  Diary readers were expecting to see a blue-haired Luau and they were expecting to see it soon.

I thought on that for a while, trying to come up with a solution.  In the end, the only thing that seemed fair was to dye my hair now (the appointment has been made for next Thursday) and then dye it again in May for Sugarloaf.  I told myself it wouldn’t be so bad because I would be a beacon of Autism Awareness for a good 2 – 3 months depending on how long I kept the dye jobs.  It was like killing 1 Bird with 2 Stones.


BUT, something happened yesterday.  I won’t go into detail about it except to say that I will be donning my Team Up with Autism Speaks singlet again much sooner than I expected.  I will still run Sugarloaf in May – I believe it is my best shot in the Spring to re-qualify for Boston 2013. However, it appears as though I will be unexpectedly running the New York City Marathon again this year.

That’s right, I’ve got 30 days to train for New York.  This year however will be different than last.  Because I have not been in any kind of training mode for the last three months, I will be running for fun – no taking a shot at 3:15; no attempting a PR.  This is gonna be “let’s take a picture with every friend I can find along the way”!

The added bonus is that my hair will still be blue on November 6th, which means I will be able to run Sugarloaf with my normal hair color (if I decide to ever go back to it – maybe I’ll choose to stay blue) – 2 Birds, 1 Stone.

Unfortunately, because of family commitments, my weekend will be different as well.  I am going to slip into the City Saturday morning to pick up my number, and zip out to attend a family function that afternoon/evening, and then go back into the City that night.  There won’t be time to have a drink and catch up or break bread with friends I would love to see.

So, I’ve got a request – if you are going to be in the City watching the marathon, please let me know where you think you’ll be.  I’ll have my phone with me and will be live tweeting along the way (@luau).  I would be thrilled to stop, have a sweaty hug and take a picture with you along the way.  If you don’t Tweet, leave me a message on Facebook (Run Luau Run) or email me (runluaurun at gmail dot com).

Now, does anybody have a couch I could crash on that Saturday night?

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No, no, no, no, no, no, NOOOooooo!!!

-Somewhere near mile 22

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I ran my very first marathon (the Manchester City Marathon) a little over a year ago. I went into it not really knowing just what I was getting myself into. Over the course of the next fifty two weeks I ran three more marathons (Boston, Providence and Smuttynose). In each of those I learned a little bit more about the 26.2 mile distance.

One full year after running the Manchester City Marathon, and with one week to go until New York, I thought I had the knowledge, determination and discipline to conquer the five boroughs. Unlike Meatloaf, I only got one out of three right.

I would love to go into detail of my whole weekend experience, but in the interest of time and space I will just say that on Friday and Saturday I got to catch up with the always inspiring Sarah Stanley, had the honor and pleasure of meeting my buddy Michelle, running with both her and TK, and having a fabulous brunch with a roomful of runners (too many to list here) and attended the Team Up with Autism Speaks Pasta Dinner.

Me and Sarah Stanley at the Expo

Me and "Miss Joy" Michelle meeting for the first time at the expo...we later attended a wedding together!

At the dailymile/Twitter Brunch where I got to sit with THE Running Laminator!

At the Autism Speaks pasta dinner with my sister and Autism Speaks President Mark Roithmayr

Got to sit and eat with fellow autism parent and twitter friend Rhonda aka @train2tri

Let’s get right to the race.

As I stood, shivering in the starting area, I tried to visualize my journey before me.  Much like Smuttynose, I had a plan – I was going to break the race into 5 mile segments.  I knew in my head that no matter how I felt, I could run 5 miles.  In my head I told myself the moment I take that first step in each 5 mile segment, I was now down to 4+ miles.  It worked to perfection at Smuttynose.  I was sure it would work in New York.  If could replicate my Boston Qualifying race, New York was going to be a breeze.  Part of the plan also called for taking a Honey Stinger at the beginning of each of those 5-mile segments.  Easy enough.  I had run Smuttynose in 38-minute 5 mile segments.  My plan for New York was to attempt 37 minute splits.

Although I had never run New York, I tried to imagine myself taking a Stinger and a swig of my homemade Honey Water at the designated spots.  I saw myself crossing the finish line in Central Park.  The clock read 3:16, which was fine, because I was about a minute back from the starting line.

After the introductions of the elite runners, the gun went off, and we were OFF! waited for the wave to make it’s way back to corral 12.  I took one last look around for DP_Turtle, hoping to find a running partner, but to no avail.  The sea of people began to surge forward and as we crossed the starting line, I hit my watch and we broke into a jog and then a run.  My New York City Marathon had officially started.

People had warned me about the mass of humanity that I would be part of.  I thought having run Boston from the very back that I already had a grasp of what that meant.  As I began to climb the Varranzano-Narrows Bridge, I realized just how wrong I was.

The view of people ahead of me and behind me was almost overwhelming.  Reaching the peak of the bridge, I looked out over the water at Manhattan.  Having lived there in the late 90’s, I felt a tinge of sadness.  Even today, almost a decade after 9/11, I still expect to see the Twin Towers standing there.  I said a quiet prayer for those who lost their lives and loved ones that day and moved on.

As I passed the first mile marker, I took a look at my watch – 8:14.  A nice, slow start.  Unfortunately the second mile was downhill and gravity did it’s thing.  Coming off the bridge I hit mile 2 in a too fast 6:43.

Too fast! I thought. But then I reconsidered, thinking that I was now on target for sub-7:30 miles.  It had worked at Smuttynose.  It was going to work in New York, right?

Shortly thereafter we got our first dose of the crowds.  The cheering was absolutely amazing.  The next 3 miles went quite smoothly.  I hit the 5 mile marker at 36:02…a little ahead of schedule, but I felt good.  Real good!  Too good.

I pulled out a Stinger.


Now here’s the thing.  I am a huge fan of NRG’s Honey Stingers.  I am convinced that they helped propel me to my BQ at Smuttynose.  Before traveling down to New York, I decided to defer picking up my Stingers until I got to New York.  I assumed the local running shop would carry my brand.  They did…just not in the original flavor I was looking for.  My choice was banana and chocolate.  I settled on a mix.  But what could go wrong, right?  They were Honey Stingers!


As I passed mile 5, I pulled out my Stinger, tore off the top, sucked the the honey and washed it down with Honey Water.




I grimaced and washed it down with another swig of Honey Water.

Much better.

That is until a mile later.  At mile 6, it started mildly.  Small tiny waves brushing on the shore.  But with every passing minute, the waves of nausea became bigger and bigger.  They were soon crashing down on me.  I tried to stay focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but I could feel myself starting to fade.  Somewhere in the next mile or so I had to stop at a port-a-potty.  I didn’t feel good.

44 seconds later, I was back on the road.

At mile 8 the three starting groups (for the uninitiated, the New York City Marathon starts in three waves, each wave broken down into three separate starting areas that run their own routes for the first 8 miles) came together.  The crowds and runners became more congested.

Mile 10 was coming.  The nausea wasn’t going away, but I knew I needed to take a Stinger.  I tried to psych myself up for taking in sugar, but the closer I got to 10, the sicker I felt.  Mile 10 came and went, and I decided to push the Stinger off until mile 15.  I took a swig of my Honey Water, but even that was now making me sick.  At the next garbage can, I chucked my bottle.  I looked at mile split – 73:35 – that was a 37:33 split.  Despite the urge to hurl for the last 4 miles, I was still on target.

I slowed down a touch, trying to give my body the opportunity to re-group.  After about 10 minutes I started to feel somewhat normal.  No longer feeling green, I pressed a little to make up for lost time.  As we crossed the half-way mark I looked at my watch.  1:37:19.  Sub-3:15 pace!!!

Ok!  I can do this!

Just after the half, I spotted my friend TK.  I ran over, gave her a hug.

Looming in the distance was the Queensboro Bridge.  I took a deep breath.  I was going to take the ascent slowly and let gravity do it’s thing on the back side.  Passing mile 15, I realized that I needed to take in some nutrition.  The very thought of taking a Stinger brought back a wave of nausea.  I decided to wait just a little longer.

I took a look at my watch – 1:52:20 – a 38:45 split.  Still within striking range and ahead of my Smuttynose pace.

As we began to climb the bridge, I was surprised to hear music.  Led Zepplin’s Kashmir began pounding through my earbuds.  I had forgotten that I was listening to music.  The bands and crowds are so loud along the course that unless you have your music pumped up all the way (something I do NOT advocate), it is completely drowned out.

But on the bridge there were no fans, no bands, no sounds save the quiet pounding of running shoes on the asphalt.  Robert Plant wailed away in my ears.  I couldn’t help but smile.  For some reason, it felt like the perfect song for the moment.  Reaching the peak of the bridge, I forced myself to take another Stinger.  The thick honey was so unappetizing to me that after forcing half of it down, I spit out the rest.  My level of nausea kicked right back up.

I had been told that I would hear the cheering in Manhattan long before I came off of the bridge, and I did.  Momentarily I was uplifted.  Coming off of the bridge, I race over to the crowd and high-fived a number of kids.

The high was good enough to keep me going for a couple of miles, but I knew I was starting to pay for the lack of carbs I was putting in.  At this point I realized I needed to put some kind of sugar into my body, so I decided to start drinking Gatorade at each water station.

I never drink Gatorade.  Ever.

Through 18 miles I had manage to keep my mile splits under 7:50.  I was still averaging under 7:30 per mile.  Mile 19 came in at 7:57.  I wouldn’t see another 7-handle the rest of the way.  As I entered the Boogie Down Bronx, almost on the nose at mile 20 I nearly doubled over from pain in my stomach.

Stomach cramps?  Really? My lack of drinking Gatorade while training was coming back to haunt me.

I had never suffered from stomach cramps before in a race.  These were sharp and painful.  I knew that my game plan had to change.  Even as I had approached mile 20, I had been thinking that a PR was still a possibility despite the ongoing nausea.  I had fought through it for 19 miles.  I knew I could fight through it for another 7.

But this was different.  I went into survival mode.  I just needed to keep moving.  Time was no longer the goal – finishing was.

We weren’t in the Bronx long, quickly returning to Manhattan and Fifth Avenue.  I’m not sure how it is physically possible, but it felt like both going up First Avenue and going down Fifth Avenue were both uphill.  Is that possible?  It sure felt that way.  The stomach cramps weren’t going away, but I felt like I could make it through to the finish…that is until somewhere before mile 22 when I felt a twinge in my quads.

Deja vu!

My mind flashed to mile 20 of the Manchester City Marathon when my quads froze, leaving me with my legs planted to the ground like tree trunks for 10 minutes, unable to move.

The twinge became more intense.  I could feel both quads tightening up.  This is NOT good! As I passed mile 22 I thought about quitting.  I was in official death-march-mode. 

Is it worth trying to get to the end?  I’m nauseous, my stomach has sharp pain and now my quads are seizing up.  Maybe I should walk.  Maybe I should stop.

But something kicked in.  I knew that the Team Up with Autism Speaks cheering section was just a mile away.  Autism Speaks, the families that battle autism every day and all those who had helped me raise nearly $3,500 had brought me to New York.  I couldn’t let them down.  I looked down at my singlet.  “Run Luau Run” it said right above the Team Up with Autism Speaks logo.  I thought of Brooke.  I thought of my friend Greg and his son.  I thought of my friend Sheila and her son.  I thought of Jersey Jenn and her family….and Judith…and Drama…and Gaby…so many families…

No.  Walking was not a choice.  Stopping was not an option.  I wasn’t running for me.

Each stride brought a shot of pain in each leg.  I looked up to see a sign: Pain is temporary. Pride is forever! followed by Your Feet Hurt Because You’re Kickin’ Ass!!! Two better placed signs I could not have asked for.

I caught the Autism Speaks cheering section by surprise (they were still setting up) and soldiered on into Central Park.

Now, I love a good set of rolling hills as much as the next guy, BUT after 23+ miles?  Oh my frakking God!!!  The uphills simply brought a more intense pain to my quads, and the moment I began going down the hills, my hamstrings decided to join the party.

Gee! Thanks Hammies!  I’m glad you could make it to the Pain Party!

Up and down.  Up and down.  But as intense as the pain was, I knew I had less than 5K to go.

Somewhere around 24, something made me look left.  There was my sister!  A sight for sore eyes!  I ran over to her and gave her a hug.  A big part of me wanted to stop right there and call it quits, but I knew I couldn’t.

A hundred yards later, I spotted my mother-in-law (Grammy) and her husband (Grandpa DD).  I tried to put on a brave face.

"Gotta keep moving...I think the finish line is this way" (photo courtesy of Grandpa DD)

"Maybe if I flap my arms, my legs won't have to work so hard!" -courtesy of Grandpa DD

I had nothing left.  My body was working on sheer muscle memory.  At this point, my hair could’ve been on fire, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

We exited the Park and ran along Central Park South.  I knew that we needed to go back into the Park at some point, but it felt like it was taking forever.  Finally, as we approached Central Park West, we cut into the Park for the last 400 or so meters.  This was the final test of the New York City Marathon, because this very last portion was painfully uphill. Really!?!

Usually I have a kick at the end of these races.  Heck, I even had one at Manchester for the last few hundred yards, but on this day I would have to be satisfied with just keeping a steady pace.  There would be no passing people at the very end.  No triumphant sprint across the finish line.

I looked at my watch – 3:26:31.

I mustered a smile.  Despite everything, I had managed my second best marathon time.

I didn’t hit 3:15.

I didn’t PR.

But I have to say, that in many ways, I am more proud of what I did on that day than of my BQ time at Smuttynose.  New York pushed me past what I thought was my limit.  I could have quit.  Heck, maybe I even should have quit, but I didn’t.

Yes, pain is temporary and pride is forever (at least I hope the pain is temporary – my legs and shoulders are still hurting as I write this!).

I wandered out through the bag pick up section, briefly checking into medical, probably leaving before I should have, woozy but proud.

How I felt through much of the race

I found my family, thanked them for coming.

Me and my sister (who took care of me after the race!)

Me and my Mother-in-Law

We made our way back across the park to cheer in other Autism Speaks runners.

Hanging out at the Autism Speaks cheering section, cheering other runners in

I got to see Edison the mining runner.  Talk about a story of perseverance.

So what did I learn in New York? At least four things (though I’m sure others will reveal themselves):

1. Don’t mess with your nutrition.  Last minute changes to what you put in your body can really mess you up.

2. Train for the terrain.  Truth is, I spent the summer training on very flat roads in anticipation of Smuttynose, which is billed as the flattest marathon in New England.  That was great for Smuttynose as I cruised to a BQ, but not so much for New York with it’s bridges, slow, long climbs and rolling hills in Central Park.

3. Running with someone makes a huge difference.  At Smuttynose I was blessed to be able to run with my friend Brendan for nearly 15 miles and then with some strangers for another 7 or 8 or so.  I ran New York without a partner and I’m pretty sure it didn’t help.

4.  No matter how good you feel, if you’ve been targeting averaging 7:24 per mile, it’s not wise to run a 6:43 in the second mile.

As beat up as I am though, I’m already strategizing for Boston.  Just this past Wednesday, I received my Confirmation Notice in the mail.  Mentally I am ready to start running again!  I am ready to start training for Heartbreak Hill!  I plan on kicking it’s ass!  The only problem is that my legs haven’t got the memo yet.

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Some other photos from the race:

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Today I have my very first guest-blogger.  She is none other than my lovely wife, Jess.  I hesitate to let you read further only because she is a much better writer than I am.


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All right, so you can pick your jaws up off the floor now. Seriously, it’s impolite to stare.

I know how implausible it is to find me here. Me – of “I only run when being chased” fame. Me – who once announced to the world that I was going to run a half-marathon, got three weeks into Dante’s third ring of Hell training, decided for the millionth time that I DESPISED running, then spent the next six months trying to hide from anyone that had been within earshot when I’d made the declaration. Me – who would sooner chew glass than run, no less spend my time reading a blog about running (Sorry, honey, you know I love you, right?).

And yet, here I am. And I have a story to tell. And it’s about running. I know, what are the odds?

Here goes.

In another lifetime, when I was thinner and taller er, um, younger and richer oh, Hell, let’s just go with just out of college, I lived in Manhattan. Long before Luau and I met, and a good many years before I would become a running widow, I would periodically head over to the finish line of the New York City Marathon. Friends and I would go to share in the revelry of the day. We’d whoop it up and cheer in the runners as they ran along Central Park South. We made it our personal mission to help push them over the last hump as they neared the finish line in the park.

I loved being there and I always found that the energy and inspiration lingered long after I’d walked away.

One year, after cheering in God knows how many runners, I headed over to the West Side for dinner with a friend. We tucked into a window seat at a favorite restaurant and ordered a bottle of wine. We talked about everything under the sun. We chatted and laughed and watched the people go by. We ordered slowly and ate even more slowly. Why not? We were living in the days of nowhere to be. It was long after nine o’clock when we finally paid the check.

I headed out into the night, amazed at how dark it was. I walked across town, making my through the park and back down to Central Park South. I was changed by what I saw along the way.

A lone runner was making his way along the same path that had been lined with bodies hours earlier. Where there had been rows of fans five and six deep. there was now nothing but a few stray barricades still waiting to be collected. There was no fanfare now – no one screaming or urging him on – no one there waiting to hand him a banana or a mylar blanket. There was no one to put a medal around his neck, offer him a massage or even give him a handshake. There was nothing at all but him and the place where the finish line had been. It was nearly ten o’clock at night.

I stood in the dark watching him with tears streaming down my face.

One at a time, he pulled his forearm crutches around his body. At awkward angles, they kept time with his feet until he finally stopped to raise them above his head.

I felt like a voyeur. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move. I just stood back in awe of the human will.

Finishing that race was for no one but him.

Running is intensely personal. Whether you’re obsessed with running a qualifying time for a marathon (ahem), looking to beat a personal record (ahem again), or just hoping to make it in before the course closes, unless you’re an elite runner, it’s for no one but you. Running for a cause or running against the clock; running two miles or running twenty six miles, if you’re really going to do it, it’s got to be for YOU.

If you’re running New York this weekend, I wish you luck and I wish you strength.

And while you’re there, if you start to falter, keep your feet moving toward the park. Because there, you might just find the spirit of the man who finished HIS race long after the spectators had gone home.


Jess can be found at Diary of a Mom where she writes about our life, our beautiful daughters – nine and-a-half year-old Katie and seven and-a-half year-old, Brooke, and our up and down journey with autism.

She also runs the Diary of a Mom Facebook page, a warm and supportive community of parents, friends, adults on the autism spectrum and some random people in her life who cared enough to hit ‘Like’ and probably now wonder what they got themselves into.

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…it’s our turn…NCYM [New York City Marathon] people…THIS IS OUR TIME!


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For the past 3 1/2 weeks I have patiently been waiting.  I have “watched” as my friends ran the Chicago Marathon (10/10), the Bay State Marathon (10/17) and the Marine Corps Marathon (10/31).  I have enthusiastically cheered them on from afar, but deep down inside I have been green with envy.  True, just 4 1/2 weeks ago I ran the best marathon of my short running career, and for a week I reveled in the joy and euphoria of qualifying for Boston.  But then I got caught up in the tweets and dailymile updates of people running Chicago.  Not only were these friends running the marathon, but they were getting to meet each other and hang out.  They were able to sit and talk about running without feeling like they were boring their audience.

I enviously read about tweet-ups and dailymile meet ups.  I couldn’t believe that a friend of mine was able to meet Bart Yasso!  But she and several others didn’t just meet him, they got to spend an evening having drinks with him, picking his brain.  How cool is that?  The following week was Bay State, with several friends shooting for BQ’s of their own (just in time…phew!), followed two weeks later by the Marine Corps Marathon with many getting together at Jon Stewart’s Rally for Sanity.  I wish I could have been at all of those races!

Well, New York City Marathoners and New York City Runners, it’s our turn now.  I’m looking forward to meeting many of you over the weekend.  I hope some of you will join Miss Joy, TK and me for a leisurely 4 miler on Saturday morning or for brunch afterward.  I am so looking forward to meeting the two of them!  Others I hope to meet at the expo.  I also can’t wait to meet the rest of the Team Up with Autism Speaks Team at Saturday night’s pasta dinner.

Oh, and then there’s the matter of the 26.2 miles on Sunday.  If I don’t meet you beforehand, I hope to see you at the finish line.

It’s our turn now.  Let’s have some fun!

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One year ago yesterday I ran the Manchester City Marathon – my first.  I was convinced that I was going to qualify for Boston in that race.  Looking back, I realize that I really had no idea what I truly was getting into.  My strategy was rudimentary at best.   It didn’t really matter.  I abandoned it within the first few miles.  I flew through the first half in just over 1:35.  I pumped my fist at my family as I flew by them. There are no pictures of that moment because I was 5 – 10 minutes ahead of schedule. I was flying.

Then I had to run the second half. The second half took me just over 2:20, including 20 minutes to get from mile 20 to mile 21.

I came nowhere near qualifying for Boston. As proud as I was for finishing my first marathon, I was devastated.

It was on that day that I finally realized that running a marathon, forget qualifying for Boston, was hard.


In 6 days I will be running the ING New York City Marathon. It will be my 5th marathon in 53 weeks. To say that my experience in New York will be different from that in Manchester is a bit of an understatement. Yes, the cities and crowds are different, but I am speaking more directly to the experience of running the 26.2 miles themselves.

In 53 short weeks I have made a tremendous amount of progress. I have gone from a 3:54 marathon where my quads froze up, to a Boston Qualifying time of 3:19, to possibly gunning for a 3:15 this coming Sunday.

A 35 minute improvement.


The best part is that I know that my running is a work in progress.  There is still much to be done, many miles to be run, a number of milestones to be reached.

But I don’t say all of this to toot my own horn.  No.  I say this to tell you that anybody, ANYBODY, can get there.  If you train hard, eat right and run smart, progress is inevitable.  The speed and measure of progress is different for each individual.

If you have a running goal, any goal for that matter…believe! Believe!!!

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Okay friends, New York is less than 4 weeks away.  When I first put it out there that I needed to raise $2600 to run the New York Marathon for Autism Speaks, you put me there in less than 4 weeks.  I was amazed and humbled how quickly my circle of friends rallied around to support this cause that is so very important to me.  I am extremely grateful.  For the last couple of months however, I’ve been stuck at a little over $3,000.  Nothing to sneeze at for sure, but I know I can do better.  So I’m throwing out a challenge.

If I can manage to raise $8,001 ($1 more than the goal of the fundraiser currently standing in 5th place among New York runners) before the Friday (11/5) I leave for New York, I will do this:

Yo! Wuzzup?

That’s right.  I will, for the first time in my life, dye my hair, and not only will I dye my hair, I will dye it Autism Speaks Blue.  Come on.  How many of you wanna see me walking around New York City with blue hair?

Here’s the link to my fund raising page —>HERE<—

Get me to $10K, and maybe I’ll even dye the dog!

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