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Elevator Pitch

Posted in other, Uncategorized, tagged autism, autism awa, blue, blue hair, elevator pitch on October 17, 2011| 8 Comments »

Brother, can you spare 30 seconds?

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So the blue hair thing is already paying dividends.

Friends, neighbors, acquaintances, strangers; children, adults – all of them are asking, “what’s up with the blue hair?”

I thought this would be easy – you ask me about autism and I can go on for a good 30 minutes, ranging on topics from awareness to therapies to educational methods. The problem of course is not everyone is as enthusiastic as I am; not everyone is as entrenched as I am; not everyone wants to listen for too long as I get on to my traveling soapbox.

So I’ve had to refine my pitch. I’ve tried to get my soapbox speech down to about 30 seconds or less at this point, but it’s kind of like suddenly being told you need to sprint a 5K after spending a summer training for a marathon.

Hopefully I’ll have it down pat by the time the New York Marathon rolls around.

Meanwhile, I hit the key points –

Autism Awareness
Fund Raising
Research
Beacon of awareness
Running New York with blue hair for Autism Speaks

So far I haven’t had one negative comment (except maybe one who said she just couldn’t take someone with blue hair seriously…whatever). Over the weekend I think I probably spoke to over 30 people individually about the hair and why I did it. Today I’ve already spoken with almost 10. That’s 40 more people who might stop and think before judging one of our kids, siblings or parents the next time they fall apart at the grocery store. Hopefully those 40 will tell their friends about the crazy, marathon running dad with the blue hair and they’ll remember to mention why that crazy dad is doing it.

Spreading Autism Awareness, changing the world, one strange look at a time.

Why do you run?

And for those who think maybe Awareness is a tired, worn out theme, I ask you to read —>THIS<— and then tell me if that is really the case.

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The Dye Job

Posted in Odd Ball, other, Uncategorized, tagged autism awareness, blue, dyeing hair, light it up blue on October 14, 2011| 20 Comments »

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Yesterday, if you were on the Twitter and following me (@luau), you would have seen the stream of pictures that follow. The quick story for those new here is that I put it out there in cyber-space a couple of weeks ago that if we were able to help my wife Jess reach her goal of $10,000 raised by the time the Autism Walk in Boston arrived, I would run my next marathon with blue hair in honor of Autism Awareness. I put out this challenge just a few before the walk and a couple of grand short. We didn’t think we were going to make it.

Lo and behold, on Walk Day how much was on Jess’ fund raising page?

$10,000.01.

My dearest friend Lurch (together we are known as Lurchau) had come through with an incredibly large donation at the last minute. Personally, I think he just wanted to see me run with blue hair.

Anyway, that is how I ended up at Stilisti Boston yesterday. It was quite the ride. Marisa, the owner of Stilisti Boston and one of the top stylist anywhere, was kind enough to donate the job for the cause. Thank you Marisa (and the rest of your staff). You. Are. Amazing. They made me feel right at home – actually, they kinda made me feel like a celebrity. You will notice in some of the pictures the group of beautiful women surrounding me. No, it’s not because of my dashing good looks or the curiosity of a suburban dad dyeing his hair blue. No, it is because these women were there to learn from the best in the business (Marisa, not me). You can find Stilisti Boston at http://stilistiboston.com/ on the Interwebs or 138 Newbury Street, 2nd Floor in Boston – 617-262-2234. I’d also appreciate it if you’d consider following them on Twitter at @stilistiboston.

Again, thank you Marisa, thank you Lurch, thank you Jess, and thank you to all who helped us get over the $10K mark.

Thank you to all of you who sent encouraging and entertaining words and comments (yeah, I’m looking at you @mynameisMarc! 🙂 )

Can’t wait to run New York with my blue hair.

The ride begins...

waiting for Marisa

the bleaching begins...

hair dryer time

bleach is starting to do its work...

touching up the ends...

time to hit the roots

time to wash this stuff out

rinse, rinse, rinse

wow...that's blond!

gotta get it dry before coloring...

...maybe I could get used to this...

view from the back

I look like a crazy man

let the dyeing begin...

waiting for it to set...

time to rinse and lock

unfortunately I had to run out to pick up the girls from school...priorities you know...

a shirt I will be wearing a lot for the next month

...finished product - THANK YOU Stilisti Boston!!!

Why do you run?

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Going Blue Live

Posted in Odd Ball, other, Uncategorized, tagged autism, autism awareness, blue hair, brown hair, dye job, light it up blue on October 12, 2011| 4 Comments »

[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com]

So tomorrow is the day.

Tomorrow morning at 10:45 I will, for the first time in my life be dying my hair – not to wash away the gray (it’s there by the way), not to add highlights (a little too Metro’ for me anyway), but to go blue, specifically Autism Speaks Blue to promote Autism Awareness.

Jess’ stylist, who has so generously donated the job, is going to be washing, bleaching and coloring this shaggy head.

The closer I get to it, the more I realize just how nutty of an idea this was – but if I can get just one person every day to ask me why I did it, it will be well worth the funny looks.

So tomorrow is the day.

I will post pictures of the transformation here on the blog either tomorrow afternoon or Friday morning, BUT for those who simply cannot wait and want to watch the change almost as it happens, I will be live tweeting the transformation.

So if you’ve got nothing better to do tomorrow morning, hop on to Twitter and follow me @luau.

For now, I am going to enjoy my last few hours with normal colored hair.

Why do you run?

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Untitled

Posted in other, Uncategorized, tagged 10 year anniversary, 9/11, purpose, Remember, windows on the world on September 9, 2011| 12 Comments »

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I used to work in a sector of the Event Planning business called Destination Management. I was actually the Chief Operations Officer of what was the premiere company in New York City for that particular niche. Essentially, if you were a company that wanted to send a group of people to New York City for a stretch of time, we took care of those people from the moment they got off of their planes until the moment they got back on. We took care of transportation, lodging, food, entertainment, tours and most importantly to some of these companies, meetings and conferences.

If a company was sending a group of its people to New York City, they had to throw in a few meetings.

New York City has an incredible number of venues to choose from when picking a place to hold business meetings, presentations or conferences. As the man in charge of the various programs we put together, I thoroughly enjoyed being able to get into these venues before, during and after each of the events I ran.

Despite the endless options however, there were a select few places that were my “go to” locations. Places where I felt comfortable enough with the staff to know that even if my event hit a glitch or two, the end result would still be a success and would receive glowing reviews.

These select places became regular locations for me – places where I would run breakfast meetings on a weekly (usually twice a week) basis – to the point where I could simply rely on the routine and know that “today” was going to start off well. These breakfasts would generally last from about 8AM to 10AM, requiring me to be present from about 7AM to 11AM.

One of these places was Windows On The World.

Windows on the World was a complex of venues at the top floors (106th and 107th) of the North Tower of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan.

Just a few months before the attacks of 9/11, Jess and I decided that we wanted to have one of us at home raising our child. We looked at our respective salaries at the time and decided that it would make more financial sense for me to be the stay at home parent. The next week I went into my boss’s office and told him that I was “retiring” for a while to raise my child. Although he was disappointed, he completely understood and accepted my decision. He understood why we had made our decision and did not try to convince me to stay on. Tony could be a convincing guy, and I am thankful that he let me go.

***

On the morning of 9/11, little Katie was in her high chair. We had just started on solid foods (if you can call soupy cereal solid). We had recently moved out of New York City and into the suburbs.

The phone rang. It was Jess.

What are you doing? she asked.

Feeding the kiddo. Mmmm, cerrrrrrealllllll.

You need to turn on the TV.

I strolled the high chair into the den and turned on the television. There was an image of smoke coming out of one of the Twin Towers. The voice on the TV was talking about a possible Cessna crashing in the building. I remember thinking, what an idiot!

And then reality changed. The second plane hit the other tower and my world, my baby’s world, our world was changed forever.

***

As ten years have passed, certain feelings have become fuzzy. The abject disbelief and horror of what those 19 evil men did has been numbed somewhat. My fear of flying has become a little less terrifying. The wound on my National Pride has healed, if not scarred.

But…

…every time I think of 9/11 and I look at my now two children, I think about the fact that there are so many children , so many sons and daughters, so many parents and siblings that lost someone that day, and had I still been working at the time, there was at least a 40% chance that I would have been up there, at Windows On The World, when flight 11 struck the North Tower.

Fortunately for those in my former company, we did not have a program there that day. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have had I still been with the company. Like I said, Windows was a preferred venue of mine.

***

So as we enter this weekend commemorating the 10 year anniversary of the awful events that happened on 9/11, I ask you to pray for those that lost their lives that day – but I also ask you to say a prayer for the children, the parents, the spouses and the friends of those who lost their lives, and finally for those who were never born…had I been there, Katie would have been an only child, Jess would have been left alone…and Brooke would have never been born.

I am so thankful, so grateful, that whatever God that is up there decided that Brooke needed to be a part of this world.

Thank you Lord for sparing me, but even more so, thank you for sparing my baby…

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Wait…what?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged 9000 feet, running, ultramarathon, Vermont 50, vertical climb, What? on September 6, 2011| 9 Comments »

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In anticipation of Vermont, decided to try a little run/walking…5:00 running, 1:00 walking, repeat. Covered 10 miles in 1:27:07. Now I just have to do the 4 more times and that’ll be 50 miles.
-My Facebook Status on Sunday

Shortly after I posted that on Facebook someone pointed out to me that A.) our walk breaks would be longer than 1:00 and B.) the total vertical climb of the Vermont 50 is over 9,000 feet.

Wait…what?

9,000 feet?

Really?

What the Frak, dude!?!

That’s nearly 1.8 miles of vertical climb. Granted it’s over the course of 50 miles, but seriously…

A little research tells me that Heartbreak Hill rises 88 feet over the course of 0.4 miles. That roughly translates to 11,000 feet over 50 miles.

So what I’m seeing here is that over the course of the Vermont 50 I will be climbing at an overall rate that puts me in the same ballpark as going up Heartbreak Hill 125 times.

125 TIMES!!!

What the Hell was I thinking?

Why do you run?

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Extraordinary

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged extraordinary, running, special needs on August 24, 2011| 45 Comments »

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When you are the parent of the child with special needs you gain a certain perspective on the concept of achievement. You learn to celebrate the ordinary, the mundane, the trivial milestones, because when you are a parent of a child with special needs, you know that in some cases, the ordinary becomes extraordinary – the words “I love you” passing over the lips of your daughters, a genuine hug of comfort, an extended moment of eye contact – all of these things that we take for granted with our neuro-typical children take on a much greater weight.

When I look at runners, talk to runners, read posts by runners, I wonder if they understand that they too are extraordinary.

Recently there was a bit of a brouhaha online about a certain runner who attempts to inspire others to live a healthy lifestyle. Some of the more serious accusations thrown at her aside, one that particularly irked me was that she is just a middle of the pack runner, even slower by other people’s standards – that it was no big deal that she ran 52.4 miles (or 100 for that matter) in one day, that her training mileage was mundane compared to other, “real” ultra-marathoners.

It wasn’t that I felt she needed defending. She can take care of herself. What bothered me was that the idea of running 50 miles in a day, or biking 200 miles in 3 days, or running 40 miles a week was nothing to celebrate because it wasn’t serious enough.

It takes away from the “extraordinary” that every day runners do every day.

If you get up in the morning and run, you are extraordinary – I don’t care if it’s 3 miles or 15 miles. How many people hit the snooze button and are now “running” late for work?
If you strapped on your running shoes during your lunch break, you are extraordinary – how many of your co-workers are stuffing their faces with a meatball grinder while you sweat out a quick 5-miler?
If you put in a short run after work, you are extraordinary – too many people are managing the stress of the day with a bourbon at the local watering hole instead of a run.
If you prepared for bed with a run after putting the kids to bed, you are extraordinary – how many of your fellow parents crash into their own beds or onto the couch after the kiddies are asleep?
If you have entered a footrace of any distance, you are extraordinary – how many people have said to you, I wish I could do that.
If you have run a marathon, no matter what the time, you are extraordinary – you are part of an exclusive club (around 0.1% of the population)!

Runners like Scott Jurek, Ryan Hall and Kara Goucher are all truly extraordinary. Their feats are incredible, but here’s the thing, they obviously have physical gifts that you and I do not have. I am truly impressed by what they are able to accomplish, but I am always more impressed with those of you who live every day lives, working towards keeping a roof over your heads and keeping your children fed yet still manage to find the time to run.

I know elitists exist in any group of significant size – those that believe they are innately better because they are faster or stronger. There are runners that are faster and stronger. That shouldn’t minimize or trivialize the accomplishments of the rest of the community – just like those of us with special needs should not be marginalized or trivialized in society.

Did you, will you run today?

Yes?

Then YOU are extraordinary. Don’t let anybody tell you different.

Why do you run?

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Out of the Blue

Posted in health, motivation, Uncategorized, Vibram Five Fingers, tagged autism, fix you, geeks in running shoes, loumelgarejo, mojo, out of the blue, running, surprise, the Una Runner on August 22, 2011| 6 Comments »

[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com]

Last week I awoke one day to a message on Facebook from my friend Sue. She had sent me a link to this —>

, saying she thought of me when she first saw it. Little did I know that Jess had posted that same video on her blog just the day before. I urge you to watch it, but I warn you, have some tissues ready. After initially seeing it, and wiping away many tears, I sent a “thank you” to Sue.

The next day I got a note from my friend Logan. He was speaking on a podcast called Geeks in Running Shoes previewing a presentation he was going to give to a group from Google on the nexus of running and social media. During the podcast he spoke of reading this blog and how it completely changed the way he sees autism – or more to point, that he now SEES autism and is less inclined to judge a family and their “misbehaving” child.

Later I received a response from Sue. She told me that she and her family had done the Autism Walk in her hometown due in large part to the regular posts both Jess and I put up on our respective blogs.

Each of those things, the video by Lou, the presentation by Logan and Sue’s initial thought of me and response would have individually made me feel pretty inspired, but it was the rapid fire impact of those three that hit me like a Mack Truck of Good Feelings.

Suddenly my brain was in high gear, jumping from one project to another that has fallen by the wayside over the last year or two – the books I want to write (one about running, the other completely unrelated), the motivational tools I want to produce – I became even more motivated in fund raising for Autism Speaks and the spreading of the message of awareness.

But the biggest impact was on my desire to run. It is no secret that I have been struggling to find my mojo since May. My runs have been uninspired at best. This past weekend I ran on both Saturday and Sunday for the first time in a long while. I went back to basics on Saturday, pulling out my old Vibram Treks and did a nice little 5-miler into town and back. My calves were almost immediately in pain when I got home, but I LOVED it! On Sunday, I put on the more traditional shoes and went out just to “run for fun”. Shortly into my run I came across an entrance to a trail, shrugged my shoulders and went for my first trail run.

What fun! The only downside, if there was one, was that I ended up getting lost, ending up at the same bridge over a sea of 4 foot tall grass three times before I finally figured out how to get out of the woods. My only real worry was the 93° heat, otherwise, in the wise words of my friend Lisa (@runlikeacoyote – you should follow her if you are on twitter), it really wasn’t getting lost, it was just exploring.

Bottom line is this – I am pumped, full of energy and raring to go (though I did come to the conclusion that I am in no way ready to take the plunge on a 50-mile run through the mountains of Vermont – especially if it’s 93frickin’°!!!). Still, I feel good – terribly sore, but good! My calves really hate me right now, but it’s good.

I’m looking forward to putting words to paper (already 1200 words in), I’m re-thinking my “why we run” project, I am setting up an appointment with a graphics designer, I’m looking forward to this October’s Autism Walk with Autism Speaks, and I have renewed motivation for spreading awareness.

AND running is fun again.

How incredible is it that one can spend months trying to find their mojo only to have it reappear thanks to three apparently unconnected, yet intricately related people.

Thank you Lou for your vision, thank you Logan for opening yourself up to awareness and passing it on, and thank you Sue for your open heart, your kindness and inspiration.

Finally, for all those who have seen Lou’s video, here’s his thank you to you.

Why do you run?

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Quicksand and a Rope

Posted in motivation, other, Uncategorized, tagged autism, Autism Speaks, Dr. Geri Dawson, running, stress on June 10, 2011| 18 Comments »

[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com]

I am running – pounding the treadmill.

My demeanor is calm, almost stoic, but I am sinking.

Sweat is dripping out of every single pore of my body. I am drenched. The display of the treadmill is spattered.

I’m waiting…waiting for the endorphins to kick in; waiting for the wave of “feel good” to wash over me and wash away the troubles of the day, the 1000 paper cuts that are threatening to bleed me out. I wait, and when I feel like I’ve waited long enough, I double-down and pick up the pace. The sweat continues to pour out of me, now like a leaky bucket losing water.

My breathing becomes labored and yet, I am still calm, stone-faced and waiting.

When the endorphins finally kick in, it is almost anti-climactic.

Yes, I feel good.

Yes, there is some release of tension.

But there is an underlying sense of dread, of sadness, of disappointment, of loneliness.

Something is not right. There is still a weight upon my chest, my shoulders, pressing down. The immediate world around me is no longer bending to my will. The destiny of me and my family no longer seems to be in my hands.

***

I think about Brooke’s future a lot. I know that any parent thinks about their child(ren)’s future, but when you have a child with special needs, like Brooke has, those concerns get multiplied. What roadblocks will autism throw up against her as an adult? as a teenager? as a tween? next week? It doesn’t seem to stop. A few weeks ago we had a scare that Brooke might be suffering from brain seizures (nearly 1/4 of kids on the autism spectrum will at some point suffer a seizure of some sort). She had been rolling her eyes into her head sometimes at a terrifying rate of 10 – 15 times per minute. In the end, after an EEG and an evaluation, it was determined that she was not suffering from seizures, but rather a motor tic associated with autism.

Not that I would have wanted it to be a brain seizure, but I thought, “Great, just one more thing that is going to make it difficult for her. Great!” Fortunately the eye rolling has subsided immensely. I now see her do it maybe 10 times in a day as opposed to 10 times in a minute.

That, along with a few other factors related to Brooke, have taken their toll I think. My sleep has suffered. My running has suffered. My motivation to do ANYTHING has suffered. I have been sinking slowly in a quicksand that has threatened to swallow me up.

***

But then last night I was thrown a rope.

Jess and I went to listen to a talk given my Autism Speaks Chief Science Officer Geri Dawson. She spoke on the state of science and research in the field of autism – where we were, where we are and where we just might be going in the not-so-distant future. Jess is much better at conveying events, so I will leave it to her to elaborate on the talk, but I will tell you this – we were sitting with Mrs. SGM, a military wife/mother of a little one with autism. At the end of the talk, Mrs. R went up to Dr. Dawson and told her that this was the first time she had been to something like this where she walked away with a sense of hope – a true sense of hope.

That is exactly how I felt.

It took those words for me to realize that my “hope” had been waning over the past few months. It was more of a general deterioration of my hope for the future. As the economy continues to struggle and town budgets get tighter, administrators eye more and more the funds spent on a child like Brooke. Long-term views are replaced by short-sighted ones. It’s happening everywhere and our community is no exception. So my hope for Brooke had taken a beating.

Until last night.

What she said will not impact the budget issues each town faces, but as I listened to Dr. Dawson speak, I was lifted by the possibility that big breakthroughs are right around the corner – that there may be a time, relatively soon, when Brooke’s autism won’t demand so much attention, so much manpower. My hope for a truly independent adult Brooke was reborn.

***

And with that, a certain amount of weight was lifted off of my chest. This morning I woke up just after 4AM and went for my run (10 miles, putting me over 1,000 miles for 2011!). There was the usual dragging my butt out of the comforts of my bed, but there wasn’t the sense of defeat and dread that has accompanied the moment of consciousness this past month or so.

Did Dr. Dawson’s talk resolve the issues we are currently dealing with now? No. Not even a little. BUT, as I look out over the horizon of time, I can see the storm clouds starting to break. The skies aren’t quite as dark or threatening and I think I see some sunshine coming through.

Thank you Dr. Dawson and Autism Speaks for inadvertently throwing me a rope and bringing back the sun.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it’s all right

-The Beatles

Why do you run?

This is the second time an Autism Speaks scientist has pulled me out of my funk. I had the pleasure of also seeing Dr. Tager-Flusburg again last night.

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How Many?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poll, running, Running Shoes on May 20, 2011| 2 Comments »

[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com%5D

Why do you run?

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Boston 2011 – Lemonade

Posted in boston marathon, race recap, Uncategorized, tagged Boston Marathon 2011, race recap, running on April 24, 2011| 38 Comments »

[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com%5D

As I bolted out of the porta-potty, I thought, this is it! this is the moment! THIS is where all of the training kicks in!!! I looked up at the first of the Newton Hills almost with a smile.

You. Are. Mine. I thought.

I had been running along at a decent clip, averaging in the low 7 minute per mile range for 17 miles. My only trouble had been the urge to pee since before the start. I finally gave in to using a porta-potty when I saw one at the bottom of the first Newton Hill. I figured that this was just another star aligning to get me to my 3:10. I would have 20 – 40 seconds to relieve myself while simultaneously recovering for 20 – 40 seconds before tackling the hardest part of the course. Perfect!

So this was it! All I had to do was get through the next 2.5 miles and I would be cruising home-free on the other side of Heartbreak Hill.

I kicked it into overdrive. This was going to be cake…maybe not a tasty cake, but cake nonetheless. I had run these hills dozens of times. Not only had I run them often, I had run them late in long runs (17 miles late to be exact!). My plan was to attack the hills with speed and relax on the back sides. It had worked every time in training. EVERY TIME!

As I hit the base of the hill I shortened my stride and quickened my cadence.

Oh yeah! Showtime!

I got three, maybe five steps in, and then it happened.

I don’t know what asthma feels like. I don’t have it. I have never had a problem with it. But three, maybe five steps up that first Newton Hill, after running like the wind, after looking up at Newton “knowing” this was going to be my day, after having run those hills countless times, my lungs simply said “no”. This is what I have always imagined asthma feels like.

For the life of me, I couldn’t inhale. Whether you’re a car or a plane or a pair of legs, if you can’t take in oxygen, there IS no combustion. Every time I tried to take a breath, my airway felt blocked. I could force enough in to make an awful sound, but that was it.

No, my lungs said, We are not going to cooperate with you in this insane business you call marathon running. No, we will not assist you in achieving you goal. No, we will not let you run fast. We are done breathing.

And that was it. In one moment my day went from spectacular to miserable in the flick of a switch. My legs had felt good. My will was strong. My desire was burning. But my airways constricted and all hopes of a 3:10 or a 3:15 or even a PR (currently a 3:19:19) went out the window.

My bolt out of the porta-potty turned into a walk. A walk? Really? I mean REALLY!?! I was walking up this hill?

Every hundred yards or so I would try to start running again. At first I would start slowly and then try to build up speed. Every time I would get to what I perceived to be about an 8:00 to 8:30 per mile pace, my lungs would collapse on me again and I would be left simply trying to inhale, struggling to do what we all take for granted. I would make a sickening weeze for about 30 – 40 second as I staggered along before my breathing would become normal again. I’m surprised that I did get picked up by medical. Maybe I’m just lucky that they didn’t spot me at my worst.

For the next mile I kept thinking that it would pass. If I could just get through the next 5 minutes or so, maybe everything will reset! It didn’t pass. I struggled to 18 or 19 where I saw the medical tent. I staggered towards it. I sighed.

DNF (Did Not Finish)? Am I going to have to fucking DNF?

As I raised my foot to take another step toward medical, I thought of my little Brooke. No, I wasn’t running this race for Autism Speaks or any autism charity for that matter, but Brooke and kids like her are a source of strength for me.

My foot wavered.

Then I thought of my older daughter, Katie. I had made a promise to her when I put her, Brooke and Jess on a plane the Friday before the marathon. They were going away to Florida ahead of me and I was going to join them Monday night after the marathon. I had promised Katie that I would wear my 2011 Boston Marathon Medal on the plane and would have it around my neck when I woke her up with a kiss when I got to our hotel. How could I break that promise? If I checked into medical, there would be no medal. In addition, I wouldn’t be able to wear the commemorative jacket I had bought days earlier.

And so, I stumbled back on to the course, weezing, trying to catch my breath.

I was scared.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to quit – I wanted to quit more than I have ever wanted to quit in a marathon.

I wanted to scream and yell.

But I trudged on.

This was going to be the dreaded “Death March”.

By the time I reached mile 20, I was in a pretty dark place, and I still had Heartbreak Hill ahead of me. My lungs continued to rebel and now my feet were beginning to hurt. And that’s when I saw my dear friend Alett. She spotted me and began to cheer. I shook my head. As I staggered over to her, she said some words of encouragement, but I told her, today was not going to be my day. The running gods had given me a lemon of a marathon.

It was at that moment though when my whole attitude changed. After 2+ miles of grumbling and wallowing in self-pity, I realized that I had a choice. I could do the death march thing to the end of the race OR I could embrace what had been given me and take advantage of the fact that I still had many friends on the course waiting to see me and cheer me on. I could stumble by them in misery or take this opportunity to celebrate that I was running Boston this year and a god-damned qualifier!!!

I decided to go with the latter and started snapping pictures with every friend I could find. Click —>HERE<— to see the pics I took over the last 6 miles.

As painful as it was to keep going, and despite having bursts where I tried to finish strong only to be slapped down again by my lungs, it was a joy spotting friends and taking a minute or two to yuk it up. My only disappointment in those last few miles was that I was unable to spot a couple of friends I knew were out there and that I was unable to keep up with my friend Ty who came up behind me with less than a mile to go and tried to pull me along (I tried Ty!) – Nic, Deb, Amelia, Hadar, Yigal, Ramana, TK and Mary, despite missing you, it helped knowing you were out there!

Looking back on my splits, I’m pretty psyched I was able to stop and chat, take pictures AND keep those last miles in the 8:45 – 11:15 range.

***
So I guess the question becomes, what happened? More specifically, what caused my lungs to go asthmatic on me? I don’t know. I’ll have to do some research on that one. Maybe I was taking in too much fluid? I had been training on about 10 – 15 oz. of Gatorade per 20 miles all winter and I’m pretty sure I drank much more than that over the course of the first 17 miles. Maybe I just sucked down some liquid down the wrong pipe? I don’t know. All I know is Monday, April 18th wasn’t my day. Maybe, if I can get in, April 17th will be.

***

There are a lot of titles that went through my mind as I contemplated writing this race report:

Opportunity Lost or Falling Short (it was all there), Breathless (for obvious reasons), Karma (was there a debt to be paid for leaving a man behind at Smuttynose?), Hubris or Foolish or Greedy (was 3:10 a realistic goal? should I have been content with gunning for 3:15? would I have lost my lungs had I been running 7:24’s?)

It was, to say the least, a rough day. A day of disappointment. A day where my goal of a 3:10 marathon seemed well within my grasp. A day where I watched that goal simply disappear with a single breath.

It didn’t start out that way. In fact, when I woke up on Monday morning, I felt great. I mean, I REALLY felt great. My training had been pretty much without incident. My times had been spot on. I was ready. The weather looked like it was going to cooperate too – 50° – 60°. We were even going to have a tailwind. In addition, RaceMenu chief Alain found me right before the start and said that he was shooting for a 3:10 just like me – I thought “perfect! Someone to run with, just like Smuttynose!”

Yes, everything was lining up for an A+ effort on Monday. 3:10 was a real possibility, with a 3:15 all but in the bag! Though my morning was a bundle of nervous energy, I did manage to stay relatively relaxed on the surface. I found my dailymile friends in the Athletes’ Village, and the group of us kept each other loose with small talk and funny stories.

I was so sure that I could feel the natural speed of this group. We were almost all qualifiers, and those that were charity runners were gunning for PR’s.

Speed was in the air.

Some days you have it. Some days you don’t. Some days, like last Monday, you have it and then you lose it. I’m just glad I had the where with all to make lemonade out of lemons. And have no doubt, YOU were the sugar that made the lemonade so sweet!