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Running with Regret

October 11, 2011 by luau

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It’s days like yesterday that I run with a certain feeling of regret – the pseudo-holidays – the days where the kids are home from school but Jess has to go to work. I despise them.

***

I finished at the top of my class at what was probably THE top high school (public or private) in Florida at the time. I was number one; valedictorian. Because of that I got into and enrolled in a top-ten college.  The future was mine.

Over the next four years, much if it spent chasing girls and drinking beer, I proceeded to finish college near the bottom of my class. Out of nearly 1,100 graduates, I was probably somewhere around 1,000th. I left my school on the hill with no solid plan for my future.

***
I was chastising Katie yesterday morning. In retrospect, I wonder if I was chastising myself, my past – that kid that had so much potential but ended up letting it slip away.

***

Days like yesterday fill me with regret – regret that I didn’t study more; regret that I didn’t think ahead more; regret that I didn’t DO more.  If I had, what would I be today?  A doctor? A business owner?  A working filmmaker?  Whatever I would have become, I know I had the potential to be earning an income that might have some of the Occupy Wallstreet people using the hashtag #occupyLuau’shouse.

To be sure, income isn’t the end all be all.  Far from it.  But it buys one options.  It gives one, or more importantly, one’s family, opportunities.  If I had only taken a different path I could have given Jess the option, the opportunity of being home on days like yesterday.

And I would switch places with Jess in a heartbeat – not because I am tired of being a stay-at-home parent, but because I know how much she would like to be at home, spending time with the girls, even though in reality, with the kids in school, most of the days would be spent alone…cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking, dropping off dry cleaning, returning purchases…

During the normal course of the week, I don’t think about it much, but these psuedo-holidays kill me.

Why didn’t I take a different path?

***

But here’s the rub – if I had, I may not have joined my fraternity, and not met certain brothers who would have made my move to New York City in ’96 possible, where I wouldn’t have had my apartment, where Jess would have never crashed a party I was throwing (a story for another day…).

No wasting the college experience, no Jess, no Katie and Brooke, no autism, no advocacy…no blue hair this coming Thursday and quite possibly no running and no Run Luau Run.

Except for the no autism part, that sounds like a pretty crappy deal to me.

And so I come back to why it is only a certain amount of regret I run with.  The choices I have made in my life have brought me to where I am.  I can’t help but feel I have disappointed many from the first 20 years of my life – it is always with me; expectations were high.  Until recently, I had not done much to make a dent in the world or make it a better place – and with that knowledge, regret followed me.

But I would argue that the last couple of years, though on a small-scale, I’ve managed to put a dent into the greater consciousness, helping bring autism awareness to places where it might not normally pop up.  Have I lived up to the promise of that 18-year old superstar? Not even a little.

But maybe, as I enter the second act of my life, maybe I’m just a late bloomer; maybe 42 is the new 22; maybe NOW (or this Thursday when my hair goes blue) is when I rise and finally throw off the yoke of regret and realize I am where I am supposed to be.

In the meantime, I think Supertramp had me in mind when they wrote this:

So you think you’re a Romeo
playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
Cuz you’re the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if you’re feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel you’re part of the scenery
all the greenery is comin’ down, boy
And then your wife seems to think you’re part of the
furniture
oh, it’s peculiar,
she used to be so nice.

When lonely days turn to lonely nights
you take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when you’re up on the stage, it’s so unbelievable,
unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think you’re losing your sanity,
oh, calamity,
is there no way out?

Does it feel that you life’s become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be,
for you to grow, boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
have been
oh, what might have been,
if you’d had more time.

So, when the day comes to settle down,
Who’s to blame if you’re not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home………..

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2 Birds, 1 Stone and a Couch

October 7, 2011 by luau

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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?

Posted in New York City Marathon | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments »

The Vermont 50 or How I Rediscovered My Love of Ramen Noodles

October 4, 2011 by luau

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I am not sure where to begin.

The beginning? The middle? The end?

Honestly, there is still a lot of processing going on.

***

October 3rd, 2010 – yapping with a group of dailymilers before the Smuttynose Marathon

Doug: Seriously, you should run the Vermont 50 with me.
Me: You’re crazy, dude.  50 miles?  That’s just nuts.
Doug: Nah, come on!

After much prodding…and more to just get Doug to shut up…

Me: Fine.  Tell you what – if I qualify for Boston today, I’ll run the Vermont 50 with you.

Damn!  My logic was sound. I  figured that were I to qualify I would be set to run Boston for two years.  In addition, I think I thought this whole Vermont 50 idea would just go away.


***

Summer 2011

After running a half-marathon on Memorial Day this year, I essentially lost my motivation to run.  The summer would prove to be a time when my mileage declined significantly.  After logging nearly 1000 miles in the first 5 month of the year, I went from 100 miles in June, to 80 miles in July, to barely 60 miles in August to less than 40 miles in September.  I was not even running at maintenance pace.  Add to that the fact that by September 25th I would have a total of 6 lifetime miles of trail running under my belt, I was in no shape, NO SHAPE, to be running 50.5 miles through the mountain trails of Vermont.

***

I know tired.

No, I really do.

You run 7 marathons over the course of 21 months and you’re pretty much a partial owner of the market on tired and exhaustion.

So yeah, I like to think that I know tired…

…well, hmmm, I guess I THOUGHT I knew tired because, you know, marathons are long…26.2 miles long…long enough to kill Pheidippides oh so many years ago.

***

So with that in mind, I began my 50.5 mile trek last Sunday at 6:35AM  in the mountains of Vermont.

The start was painful…painfully slow.  As our group of six runners crossed the starting line, we took off at a blistering 10:00 per mile pace.  The only times I have ever run slower in a “race” is when I have bonked, and bonked badly.  My legs kept wanting to push the pace, but runners smarter than me kept reining me in.  I knew the first few miles would feel slow, because they would have to be slow, but I was having a hard time not running at a comfortable pace.

“Slow it down there, Luau,” JD, our experienced team leader would say.  It would become his refrain over the next 30 miles.

I really had no idea what I was getting into- and I mean that not only had I never run the distance, but also that I really had no idea what my body, mind and soul were in for.  I hadn’t had a run over 20 miles since the end of July, my monthly mileage had been dramatically dropping since the end of May.  I really hadn’t wrapped my brain around the concept of going for 50 miles (50.5 if we’re gonna get technical – the flooding from Irene forced organizers to reroute some of the course).

My goal was to have fun, enjoy the ride and get my dear friend Doug across the finish line in under 11:00.  For some crazy reason, Doug wants to be able to run the Western States 100, and one way to get into the lottery for that race is to finish the Vermont 50 in under 11 hours.  More on that later.

As we left Ascutney Mountain, I was chatting everybody up, running backwards, sideways and forwards.  At one point I found I could speed walk at the pace we were running.  I felt like I was going out for an easy morning jog.

This isn’t so bad.  I could do this ALL day! Have you ever had one of those thoughts?  The “I could do this all day” thoughts.  Think again the next time you have one.

We were a happy Gang of Six during the few several miles.  Doug (the instigator), Jeremy D (our experienced leader), Jeremy B (the barefooter – yes, he ran the whole way in VFF Treks – my hero!), me, Adam (the streaker) and Sarah (Miss Ultra).  Shuffling along, we, along with everyone else around us joked about thinking this a a 5K or a 5 miler. Everybody was all smiles.  The only distraction was a runner whose fanny pack must have had a bottle or two of advil tablets in it.

Shake shake shake! Shake shake shake!

Slow down, speed up – no matter what we did, he maintained pace with us – didn’t say a word to us, just ran in lock step.

As we were about to hit mile 1 we came to our first hill.  My inclination of course was to keep running, but everyone, not just our gang of six, slowed to power walk pace.  I figured when in Rome.  JD set the pace and we all fell in step.  It was weird to me that we were walking up this hill – it wouldn’t be so weird to me later in the race.

There are 10 aid stations throughout the Vermont 50, ranging in distance to each from 3.8 miles to 7 miles.  For my own mental well-being, I had to break up the day into 11 shorter runs.  Our first aid station came at 4.2 miles.

Doug, JD, Sarah and me

For the first time ever, I had decided to carry to water bottles.  As we pulled in, I fumbled to open them for a refill.  I would have to get better at the process.  JD pushed us to pick up the pace.  We didn’t want to linger too long at any aid station, he said.  I grabbed a few orange slices and a piece of peanutbutter and jelly sandwich and we were off.

The next several miles were a bit of a blur, running through the forest on muddy, single track trails.  We had to climb up a hill to get to the next aid station.

The next aid station (Skunk Hollow) was 3.8 miles away and was the first place we could meet our crew.  Doug’s wife and best friend, along with Adam’s wife had very kindly volunteered to crew for us.  This entailed grabbing our drop bag, helping us fill water bottles, checking on us, etc.  Without them, I don’t know that I would have made it to the finish.  As we made our way to Skunk Hollow, our Gang of Six became a Team of Four.  Adam’s heels were barking at him and Sarah stayed with him.  As Doug, the two Jeremy’s and I continued on, we laughed and joked our way through the woods.  None of us were feeling the effects yet of the rapidly warming temperatures.

In good spirits

Laughing it up

As we pulled into Skunk Hollow, I thought about changing my socks.  I had stepped into a couple of deep mud puddles and my feet were soaked.  We were only a little over 12 miles into our day, about a quarter of the way done.  I should have taken the time to switch out, but I was eager to keep things going.  We were well on pace to get Doug in in under 10 1/2 hours.

Pulling into Skunk Hollow

Still happy as a clam

I think this is me telling Doug to get his butt moving...he was greasing up his feet - I probably should have taken the time to do the same

Now came what would be one of the hardest parts of the day for me – 7 miles, no aid stations.  Garvin Hill (the next aid station) would be at the 19.3 mile marker.  Not only was it 7 miles away, but it was also all uphill – over 1,100 feet of climb.  Two things crossed my mind at that point:  1.) I had not run anywhere close to 20 miles since the end of July and 2.) the next aid station where I could change my socks was at mile 30 – almost 20 miles away.

About 3 miles into this leg I felt an all too familiar, terrifying twinge.  My left quad began to cramp.  I tried kicking my heel to my butt to try to stretch it out on the run, but to no avail.  15 miles in, 35 miles to go – there was no way I could do that on a cramped quad.  I began muttering to myself, somewhat in a panic.  What was I going to do?  Doug pulled up next to me and asked me what was wrong.  I mentioned the quad and without hesitation he told me to pop a Nuun tablet right into my mouth and let it dissolve on my tongue until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Really?  Ew!

But you know what? I worked.  Within a few hundred yards the cramp was gone and my legs were fine.  Throughout most of this leg we were in the woods, climbing, climbing, climbing.  As we came out, I thought YES! Finally some flats! But to no avail.  They didn’t call this aid station Garvin Hill for nothing.   We still had a bit of a climb before we got to the top of Garvin Hill to refill our water bottles and snack on some food.  By this time the temperatures were into the high 70’s and the humidity was intense.  Still, we knew we were 40% of the way done.

Still smiling after almost 20 miles

20 miles in, 30 miles to get back to the other side of that mountain in the distance.

Attempting to Live Tweet - lack of signal made my tweets sparse

As I paused to tweet my progress I took a look at my Garmin – 20 miles, nearly 4 hours.  Holy Cow.  6 miles less and 40 minutes longer than what I would run a marathon in.  It struck me at that moment just how different an ultra is from a typical marathon.

There were two more aid stations and 12 more miles between Garvin Hill and Dugdale’s, which was the next spot where we could meet our crew.  My feet were barking.  I could feel blisters forming.  I cursed myself for not switching socks and greasing up my feet when I had the chance. It didn’t help that the trails were muddy and tough to navigate.

Doug leading the way as I trail behind trying to step where he stepped

The heat continued to rise and on the advice of JD the Texan, I grabbed some ice at one of the aid stations and put it in my hat.  I would do that at every aid station the rest of the way.  At this point the legs and feet hurt, but the pain was manageable.  However, a couple of miles before Dugdale’s my right forearm began to tingle.  Not a lot at first, but it was definitely there.  Initially I thought that maybe it was because of fatigue.  I had never carried two water bottles before and normally, I carry my hydration in my left hand.  The tingling continued to intensify.  As it got stronger, it began to spread up my arm. I have to be honest here and say that I began to get a little scared. When we finally pulled in to Dugdale’s I went straight to my drop bag to switch socks and shoes and restock my supply of Nuun and Shotblocks.

As I squatted down to reach into my bag, that’s when it hit me.  The tingling quickly spread from my forearm to my bicep, up the right side of my neck and my face.  My nose and teeth were numb.  I looked over at Doug.  He was busy restocking.

pulling into Dugdale's aid station - I was hurtin'!

I couldn’t focus.  I couldn’t see straight.  I stumbled over to the food table to refill my water bottles.  I couldn’t get them open.  I felt like I might pass out.  My day was done.  I had made a promise to Jess a long time ago not to risk my health in these runs that I do.  There was no way I could cover another 20 miles, no less one more mile, feeling like this.  I looked around for Doug or either of the Jeremy’s to let them know I was cooked.

But that is when a woman, I wish I knew what her name was, came up to me and asked me how I felt.  I explained to her what was going on and she very calmly, almost divinely calmly (I know, that’s not English) offered to fill my water bottles.  She then brought me a cup of ramen noodles in soup.  I watched as she sprinkled salt onto the already salty soup.  Take this she said.  You just need salt.  She then handed me a couple of endurolytes.  As I began to down the ramen, the rest of my crew came over.  I looked at them, told them how I felt and that I didn’t think I would make it.  They all said there was no way they were leaving me behind, but honestly, I was cooked.

Then a funny thing happened.  As I downed the last bite of the overly salty ramen, the tingling and numbness disappeared, just like that.  And with that, I was back.  As the boys began to leave Dugdale’s, I ran back to the food table and grabbed another cup of ramen.  This stuff was the food of the gods.

I caught up to the group and we were off again.

Our pace had slowed considerably, but we were still in the running to get Doug in on time.  I don’t remember much from the next 10 miles or so.  We were all just focused on moving forward.  At this point our bodies were spent – we were moving along only because our minds were forcing us to.  I do remember that at this point the transitions from power walking the uphills to running the flats and downhills was becoming increasingly difficult.  In some ways running was much easier than power walking – maybe because I hadn’t done any power walking to prepare for the day.

Somewhere around mile 38 my Garmin conked out.  It had helped me to know how much ground we were covering and not knowing was killing me.  Mentally I kept thinking that the next aid station HAD to be right around the next corner.  More often than not I would turn a corner or come out of the woods only to see more trail.

Physically I was on empty.

Mentally I was on reserve.

Emotionally I was running out of fuel.

At around 41 we hit another aid station.

I'm in the blue shirt, looking for ramen and ice

We would now hit the second longest leg of the day – a 6 mile trip to the final aid station, where our crew would have one last chance to see us before the finish.  It was a hard push.  I kept trying to guess how far we had gone based on the time that had passed, but it didn’t help me in the slightest. Still, the views were incredible.  Occasionally I had to take a moment to take it all in.

Somewhere after mile 42, I heard Doug whimper.  Something was wrong.  His knee had decided to act up and it was affecting his gait.  As the two Jeremy’s began to pull ahead, I told Doug to set his pace and I would stay behind him.    A few miles later he seemed to right himself, though I think it was more out of sheer will than anything else.  Still, we were all struggling.  At one point I asked out loud why there weren’t any mile markers on the course…and as if the running gods had heard me…

5. Miles. To. GO!!!

5 miles to go.  5 MILES TO GO!  I have told myself in past races that I can do 5 miles.  No matter what, I can do 5 miles.  We had covered over 45 miles and were now just 5 miles away – and only a little over 2 away from the next aid station.

I was briefly energized and we trekked along, keeping our eyes open for the next mile marker.  It was at mile 46 that my complete lack of training finally caught up to me.  As I said before, I had run very little this summer and almost not at all on the trails.  Try as I might, I could not keep up with the rest of the crew.  They began to pull away.  At one point Doug turned to look at me.  I waved him on.  He had a time to beat, I just needed to finish.

I was able to keep them in my sites, but I was fading fast.  I tried to close the gap as we pulled into the final aid station.

If you look carefully, you can see me over Doug's right shoulder

Less than 3 miles to go at this point and I was spent.  Doug was on a mission.  He had 38 minutes to get to the finish to get in in under 11 hours.  Under normal circumstances I would laugh at covering 2.8 miles in 38 minutes, but with 47.7 miles under my belt, I wasn’t sure I could do it in that time.  It didn’t help that the next 2 miles would be all uphill.  Doug and JD rushed through the aid station and were off.  I took my time and told JB that if he caught the other two to tell them to get it done and I would see them at the finish.  He took off after them, I grabbed some more ramen and ice and walked back onto the course.  I could see them off in the distance, but the switchbacks made them look like they were much closer than they really were.   I power walked for about a quarter mile and realized that I had a little left in the tank – ramen, it does amazing things on the trail!  I started to jog and slowly began amping up the speed.  I didn’t let the climb slow me down.  I wanted to catch my crew.  As I ran past other runners I could see I was closing the gap on my friend.

I passed the “2 miles to go” marker and that gave me a little zip.  I broke into an all out run, bounding past other runners, receiving “WHOOPS!” and “GO GO GO!’s” as I went.  Big mistake.  Though I was able to catch my friends, I was now completely spent and there was still at least a mile and a half to go.

They were surprised to see me.  I said hello and proceeded to say goodbye.  I needed to walk.  I encouraged Doug to go.

During my all out sprint, I had managed to tweak my right knee.  I hobbled along for maybe a half mile, cursing myself but determined to finish.  With maybe a little less than a mile to go, I began to jog again.  After two more rolling hills, it was now time for the downhill ending.  I started to pick up the pace again.  With a little less than a half mile to go, I saw a sign that said, SMILE – Camera person ahead.  I did my best to smile.

less than 1/2 mile to go!

After a quarter mile of downhill switchbacks, it was straight down the mountain.

Chugging down the hill - trying to get rid of my water bottles

realizing that I might not be able to stop myself...

Thank goodness you guys caught me!

Asking myself if I really just ran 50.5 miles on no training...

I had crossed the finish line in 11:04:37.  I finished.  A moment later I was elated at what I had done.  Doug? He had finished in 10:57.  He qualified for the Western States 100 Lottery – he’s crazy.  JB actually finished first from our group with JD coming in right after Doug.

My favorite picture of the day! Me, JB, Doug and JD.

After the race, we grabbed some food.

Doug and me...happy...exhausted

20 miles of mud...the other pair are way worse!

I have never been more exhausted in my life.  At the end of the day I was completely spent on all levels – physically, mentally, emotionally.  I walked around afterward saying that this was it for me and Ultras.  Scratch it off the bucket list.  I woke up the next morning wondering, if I actually train for this sucker, maybe I could get in under 10 hours!  Watch out VT50 2012!  I’m gunning for ya!

Our friend Sarah came in just under the 12 hour cut off.  Adam unfortunately had to call it a day at 47 miles.

I had promised Jess that I wouldn’t have a beer right after the race because we had no idea what alcohol would do to me after a  day like this.  With a 3 hour drive home, I had to agree.  So when I finally got home, I pulled two bottles of my new favorite beer out of the fridge – Left Hand Milk Stout.

Finally! My post race beer!

I went upstairs, crawled into bed, kissed Jess goodnight.  I took 3 sips of my beer and I was out.

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Freedom

September 27, 2011 by luau

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33.

No, not the mysterious number that appears on bottles of Rolling Rock beer; I’m talking seconds.

Yes, 33 seconds.  Yesterday I was informed by the BAA that my BQ time of 3:19:19 was 33 seconds short (long?) of what became the actual Boston Marathon cut off.  Maybe they should have changed 3:20:59 from BQ to BAQ (Boston Application Qualifier).  It turned out that based on the body of runners who applied to get in, the cut off time for my age group was 3:18:46.

33 seconds.  1.26 seconds per mile.  Three extra step per mile.

Bummer.

That’s life though, right?  Sometimes you’re in, and sometimes you’re out.  I am out…this time.

I could be bitter.

I could be upset.

And if I am going to be absolutely honest with myself, maybe I am a little bit of both – but just a little.

The truth is, after last year’s registration debacle, the BAA had to do something.  I feel like the new system may be brutal, but it is probably the fairest way of doing things.  It gives those who are most deserving a spot at the big dance.  Those of us left off the roster are left to wonder: what could I have done? From now on, being a bubble qualifier will most likely not be good enough.  One is going to have to train not to barely qualify, but rather to qualify “with authority”.

Sadly it gets more brutal next year when BQ times drop 5:59 across the board.  No longer will people be granted the 59 second grace period.  I will have to run a 3:15:00 marathon or better if I hope to qualify (BAQ?) for 2013.

***

So yeah, I’m a little bitter about it.  But I am also choosing to see this as an opportunity.  Not running Boston this Spring opens up the calendar to some new opportunities.  There are two marathons in particular that I have had my eye on for the last couple of years, but have not been options, in part because I was training for or toward Boston.

I would love to run Hyannis in February.  It was the race that got this whole running thing started for me.  Unfortunately, I never did end up running it.  It’s a long story…

The other, more intriguing race for me is the Sugarloaf Marathon in Maine.  It is considered one of the fastest marathons in the country with the last 16 miles supposedly downhill.  Now the thought of doing anything downhill makes my legs hurt right now (I promise I’m trying to put together my Vermont 50 recap), but taking a step back from this weekend, I have to say it is really appealing.  In addition, I lived in the Sugarloaf area for a few years back in the mid-90’s – it would be fun to go back and see how and if things have changed.  PLUS, maybe I could get my buddy Brendan (aka – @mainerunnah – my Smuttynose running partner) to come run it with me.  I’m betting that together we could both hit 3:13 or better.

Thoughts…just thoughts as I react to getting shutout of Boston.

Strangely enough though, I feel unexpectedly free…

…and freedom, I think, is a good thing.

Posted in boston marathon | Tagged , , , | 16 Comments »

I Will Not Be Racing Tomorrow

September 24, 2011 by luau

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…got your attention, didn’t I?

It’s true.  Tomorrow is the Vermont 50 – that huge, scary race that has been sitting on my horizon for the last month or so.  The race that I have done almost no training for save maybe 10 miles on a local trail here in town.  It is finally here.

No, I will not be racing the Vermont 50 tomorrow.

***

Don’t panic Doug.

Just so I don’t give my buddy Doug (who will be my running partner) to much of a scare, I will be there tomorrow; I will run the Vermont 50 with him tomorrow.

***

For the first time ever, I plan on NOT racing a race.  True, my last 6.2 miles of Boston this year was all about enjoying the crowd, but that was forced upon me by my powerbonk.  The Vermont 50 will be different.  My plan from the start will be different.

To me, there is a difference between running and racing a race.  When you are racing, the needle is red-lined almost the entire way.  The sole focus is the finish and getting to that finish in the quickest time you physically are able.

I don’t plan on doing that tomorrow.

Tomorrow I plan on enjoying the journey as much as possible – stopping to take pictures, pausing to tweet how we’re doing, taking a breather to rest weary legs and lungs, taking my time to ingest a sandwich or two at the aid stations.

If you are bored or just need a diversion tomorrow, check me out on twitter (@luau).  I hear coverage is spotty up there, but when I do get a signal, I’ll be broadcasting the fun.

Have a great Sunday people.  I know I will.

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Dear Friends…

September 21, 2011 by luau

Dear Friends,

As you know, last year I ran the New York City Marathon, wearing the Autism Speaks logo on my chest.  YOU got me there by helping me raise well over $3,500 before the race.  This year I have chosen to skip the marathon and focus solely on the Boston Walk for Autism.  There are several reasons for this (one being I can only run so many marathons before my legs give out), but suffice it to say that sometimes one must walk to be able to run again.

So why am I walking for Autism Speaks? Why am I asking you once again to help us meet our goals?  I could link you to a dozen blog posts both Jess and I have written about the scientific research that shows incredible promise, or how Autism Speaks continues to do incredible work in their Raising Awareness campaign, or I could tell you about a friend who was surprised at just how many people in her new school community didn’t know what autism was right here in our town, telling me that there is still a long way to go…

But for me, it always comes down to this ..

(and now I’m stealing my wife’s much more eloquent words)

To make a difference.

To ease the path for my girl and so many like her who struggle with autism’s challenges.

To help find answers.

To change lives.

That’s what I’m asking for today.

*

Because every child deserves the chance to push past the limits of his or her potential.

Because we ALL deserve a world in which these amazing people are full participants.

Because we still have so many more questions than answers. 

Because the answers change lives. 

Because given the right tools, there is nothing – NOTHING – that my baby can’t do. 

Because for the first time in my life, I have no choice but to ask for your help. 

Because we can’t do this alone. 

Please give what you can. 

Because every dollar makes a difference in the lives of children like mine. 

From the bottom of my heart,

Thank you.


I know these are tough times economically, so I ask you to give what you can, and if you can’t, and are so inclined, please pass this along.  The link below will take you to Jess’ fund raising page.  I’m asking you to donate to HER page and not mine because every dollar she raises will be matched by her company – EVERY DOLLAR! So for every dollar you donate to her, you are essentially helping us raise double that!

http://www.walknowforautismspeaks.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=467486&supid=331351221

If, for whatever reason, the link takes you to the Walk’s splash page and asks you to look up a walker, please enter:

FIRST NAME: Jess

LAST NAME: diaryofamom

The link can be a little wonky.

Finally, as added incentive, if we can hit her goal by Walk Day (October 2nd), I will do this for my next marathon (to me, not the dog – Dear PETA, this picture is photoshopped.  I did not dye my dog for real).

Thank you for your continuing support.  I am already in your debt.

-Luau

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The Journey

September 20, 2011 by luau

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

Time flies quickly.

As we get older, unlike our legs, Time seems to pick up the pace.  On the inside I am much like the 18-year old boy I was some 23 years ago.  Where have those 23 years gone?  What have I done with those 23 years?  and why did I waste so much time?

At nearly 42, I can’t help but wonder, what have I done?  where is my mark?  will anybody remember Luau?

This, I think is typical for a man my age.  As we realize we have passed the midway point of our marathon of life, wondering if we have run the way we should have; knowing that even as we head for that ultimate finish line, there will be a Heartbreak Hill  or two we have to overcome along the way.

Growing up I always thought that I would be famous.  I had no idea what for.  I just knew it was coming…at some point.  The problem was just that though, I knew – and as any Sci-Fi fan will tell you, knowing what will happen in the future inevitably changes it.  That knowledge made me lazy, complacent.  Sure I studied my ass off in high school, but the truth is, after that, I simply waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Where did I fall off the path?  It was near the end of my senior year in high school.  I had been accepted into an Ivy League school, I was a lock as the Valedictorian of my high school, I was a member of every social group, from the nerds, to the jocks, from the burn outs to the BP’s – they all claimed me as their own; life was good.

I took my foot off of the accelerator and flipped on the proverbial cruise switch.

Looking back, I wonder if I ever turned the switch off.  To be sure, there were times when I took control of my world.  Most recently was just over a year ago when I decided that I had to qualify for Boston.  I spent the summer focused, running mile after mile with a singular purpose.

3 months later, I achieved my goal.  Needing a 3:20:59 to qualify for Boston 2011, I ran a 3:19:19.

Boston Qualifier – I felt like I had achieved something…something not a whole lot of people can claim.

But there was a problem.  I had thought that qualifying for Boston would somehow mystically change me, alter me, better me…but I was still just plain, old me.  I was still Luau, just 3 months older, a few pounds lighter.  On the inside I was still Luau the 18-year old kid, waiting for fame to shine its light upon me.

I know now that it’s not coming…at least, not until I grab it by the horns and wrestle it down.

***

These last few months have been difficult for me as a runner.  My motivation has come and gone like the breeze pushing fallen leaves on a cool autumn day.  With only days until the Vermont 50, I will admit that I have done almost no training – zippo, zilch, nada!  I jokingly said to someone recently that I had been tapering since Boston – I was only half-joking.  This journey is going to be a test of mental toughness, of determination, of focus.  I am both scared and not scared simultaneously.  There is a part of me the simply knows I have it within me to cover 50 miles in 12 hours. Simple math tells me that as long as I keep moving, I will be fine.  And for the first time in my short racing life, I don’t care about where or how fast I finish (other than not to get physically removed off of the course by the sweepers).

But part of me is terrified.  What if I am mentally weak? 

Am I?

What if my mind gives up before my body does? 

Will it?

What if I discover that I peaked at the age of 18? 

Did I?

***

This “race” on Sunday will be interesting to say the least.  My hope is that I can prove to myself once again, that I am strong, I am determined, but mostly, that I can be disciplined.  Maybe I can rediscover who I was.  Then, it will be a matter of bringing those traits back into my every day life and then hopefully, full circle back to my running.

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Wait and See

September 19, 2011 by luau

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This morning at 10AM I did what as many as 10,000 other marathoners did or will do this week.  Along with all of the other Boston Qualifiers that qualified with less than a 5 minute cushion, I submitted my registration application to the B.A.A. for the 2012 Boston Marathon.  With a cushion of a mere 1-minute 40-seconds, I don’t particularly like my chances.  There is much speculation online as to how many spots the B.A.A. will hand out for the 2012 marathon.  I’ve read numbers ranging from 18,000, to 21,000 (not counting those running for charity).  As of Saturday night, approximately 15,000 spots had been assigned to runners who had run 5, 10, and 20 minutes faster than their required qualifying times.  Even with the most generous of estimations, that leaves less than 6,000 spots left for 10,000 hopefuls.  My best guess is that the cut off for getting into Boston is going to be a BQ-2…leaving me 20 seconds short.

And so I wait and see.

As my friend Doug said earlier this morning – hopefully the running gods will smile upon me.  We shall see.

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White Castle

September 13, 2011 by luau

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So, Martin “#2” Kessman is suing White Castle for discriminating against his 290-pound frame, claiming that, according to the Americans with Disabilities Act, he is having his civil rights violated.  I haven’t seen one word yet about WHAT his disability is.  If Mr. Kessman is claiming that his sole disability is his weight and the accompanying morbid obesity, then I shake my head in utter disappointment.  In a world where people must deal with real disabilities, whether they be physical, mental or processing difficulties, how can a man who has chosen to eat his way into his condition have the nerve to claim a civil rights violation.

Kessman claims, “The Americans with Disabilities Act is applicable – not only to me, but to pregnant women and to handicapped people. I just want to sit down like a normal person.”

Did he really compare himself, a man that as far as we know is simply overweight, to a pregnant woman or to handicapped people?  Really? (and Marty?  are you saying that handicapped people aren’t normal?  Careful Buddy.)

He says that he doesn’t like that he can’t fit into the booths of the White Castle he used to go to (more on that in a second).  He went on to say that not being able to sit in the booths was “extremely embarrassing [especially] to have to experience in front of a restaurant full of customers.”  He continues by saying that when he did try to squeeze into a larger seating area, he slammed his knee into one of the metal posts under the table and hurt himself.

Now, this is a man who has been eating White Castle burgers for over 50 years.  Supposedly he has been eating at the same White Castle since 1959.  I would imagine that back then, as a young man, he probably fit just fine into the booth style seating.  Wasn’t there some point in his life when he realized that maybe, just maybe the booths were getting a little tight?

But I want to get back to this quote from the New York Post, “I just want to sit down like a normal person.”

This quote, or rather the intention of this quote is what is wrong with America right now.  When noticing that he was pushing beyond the maximum capacity of the booths, he could have taken different steps to remedy the situation.  Asking White Castle to remodel their restaurant is NOT one of them.  Anybody who reads this blog knows what Marty could have done.  But instead of taking responsibility for his lifetime of poor eating habits, he decided that White Caste had to accommodate him.  I don’t buy it for a minute that he was concerned for pregnant women or those with true handicaps.

I am a firm,FIRM believer that society as a whole should make an effort to accommodate those members that truly are disabled.  It is our way of showing that we value life, all life.  But when jackasses like Marty make a mockery of that compassion because they are lazy, I really get upset.  It cheapens the compassion shown to my baby girl; compassion that I am so grateful for.

My daughter Brooke works extremely hard to fit herself into the world around her.  To quote an amazing parent, she is a hair dryer kid in a toaster brained world (READ IT, IT WILL GIVE YOU INSIGHT).  It’s not easy for Brooke…ever.  Society though makes an effort to include her in their world, to accommodate her, and for that I am extremely grateful.  But my point is that we work very hard to make sure that she is returning the favor of accommodation by trying to do the same.

What accommodation has Marty made?  What has he done on his part to make things easier for the situation?

Marty loves his White Castle.  He just can’t say no.  In fact, despite boycotting going into the White Castle, he now send his wife  to  pick up the burgers and fries for him. He says his traditional meal is No. 2, which offers a little less bun and a lot more cheese. It includes two double cheeseburgers, medium fries and a small drink.
Good effort Marty.  Good effort.
This lawsuit, to me, is just as ridiculous as the mom who sued McDonald’s because she just couldn’t say “no” to her kids when they asked for a Happy Meal.
Both Monet (the mom suing McD’s) and Marty should try a little self-discipline.
Oh, and Marty?  Maybe along with cutting down on the number of times per week you have the #2, how about you try a little walk in the evening and adding some color to your meals (that’s vegetable NOT condiments).

Posted in diet, health | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments »

The Rings of 9/11

September 11, 2011 by luau

I went out this morning for a run.  I set out to run 9.11 miles in memory of those who will never run again.  As my run developed, I decided to stop at every mile for a brief moment of silence to think of those that lost their lives and to slow my overall pace down to 9:11 per mile.  It was a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky – much like that fateful day 10 years ago.

In the end, I hit it right on the nose, 9.11 miles, 1:23:43 for an overall pace of 9:11.

***

During one of my moments of silence, I thought of the City of New York, the people that live, work, and love there.

I thought of my sister.  She is one of those people that has worked and lived in New York for almost half of her life.  As I thought of her, I remember something she described to me not too long after that horrific day.  She described what she called the Rings of 9/11 – the layers of people who were affected by the acts of those evil men.

We all know of the 3,000 lives that were lost that day.  But what of the rest of us?  Everybody in this country was affected by the events of 9/11, but the truth is, the closer one was to Ground Zero, she believed, the more traumatic the event was.  There are exceptions to be sure, but for the most part, I have to agree with her.

***

So today, as we honor those that lost their lives 10 years ago, each in our own way, maybe we should all take a moment to check in on those whom we love and were not too far from the epicenter.  I will be thinking of all of my friends who still live there, but today, I think I will call my sister.

Who will you call or reach out to?

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