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Thank You

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A little over a month ago I asked for your help.

I asked you to help me help my little Brooke and all the families out there affected by autism. I asked you to click

—>HERE<—

a link which takes you directly to my fund raising page for this year’s New York City Marathon.

I had committed to raising at least $2600.

I asked that you help support me as I tried to make the world just a little more aware, a little more understanding, a little more compassionate.

Out of my past and present you came.  Out of the known and unknown you came.  Friends, friends of friends, friends I have never met in the real world and total strangers.  You all came, and in just a little over a month, took me over the initial goal of $2600.

I hope that this is not the end of my fund raising, but I wanted to make sure that I acknowledged, publicly, those that put me over the top and sent me to New York this coming November.

Thank you.  I will think of each and every one of you as I journey through the five boroughs on November 7th,

The 2600 Club:

Alan Kessler, Andrew Vogel, Arthur Hsu, Bob Votapka, Grammy & Grandpa DD, Catherine Schembri, Christa Lind, Courtney Buie, Courntney Fredericks, Danielle Hair, Elizabeth Blecker, Eva LaBonte, Hugh Hallawell & Stinky, Ingrid & George, Jennifer Ethirveerasingam, Mo, Jack Wack, Jonathan Amir, Judith Ursitti, Kate Mead, Kevin Franck, Kim Borer, Cat Brown, Matt Geller, Michael Kim, Michelle “Miss Joy” Jacobs, Michelle Genin, Mollie Niess, Nancy De Sa, Rachel Thuemling, Randy Price, Rick Reilly, Roxanna Shershin, Russell Levine, Sarah Werner, Sarah Johnson, Stef Nathanson and Yigal Agam

I am in your debt.

I promise to run strong!

Thank you.

Although they do not appear on the list above, a special thank you must go to Blake Jones and Jonathan Harrington.  Each of you in your own way have made a huge contribution to my fund raising goal and for that I am grateful.

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Reasons

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This one is for the mommies and the daddies.  The uncles and the aunts.  The grandparents and family friends.  And for those who may one day become any one of those things.

***

Watching the cycle all over again…~2033 and beyond.

Spoiling little ones… ~ 2033

Motherhood… ~2033 – 2035

Wedding Day…~2031 – 2033

Engagement…~2028 – 2032

The first job…2023 & 2025

College graduation…2023 & 2025

First day of college…2019 & 2021

High school graduation…2019 & 2021

Driver’s License…2017 & 2019

First Boyfriend…hmmm…maybe that happens when the wife finally allows me to buy a shotgun and a rocking chair.

What’s your reason to run? Or swim? Or bike? Or walk? Or generally live a healthy lifestyle?

I have two:

Brooke & Katie

I am taking care of this old body of mine because I don’t want to miss a single milestone.

Are you?

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Not Smart

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So yesterday I tackled the first workout of my 12 week plan leading up to the Smuttynose Marathon. On tap: an 8 mile aerobic run (somewhere between a 8:45 – 9:15 per mile pace) followed by 10 x 100 meter strides. Sounded easy enough. Shoot, I’ve been doing 10 and 11 milers regularly lately between 8:00 and 8:27 per mile pace.

I was eager to get started. I truly believe if I can follow Peter Pfitzinger’s plan, I’ll have a good shot at 3:20. So after I fed the kiddies, packed Brooke her lunch for camp, sent the wife and Katie off to a water park, cleaned the kitchen and did the laundry, I was ready to get running. It was 11:50 when my feet hit the pavement. My plan was to finish my 8 by 1:05, get my strides in and be back home by 1:30.

***
24 hours earlier

Katie was finally getting over a fast working virus that knocked her out of commission on Saturday and Sunday. Now my head was starting to pound. It spread from my temples to my eyes. I was having trouble focusing. Soon the nausea hit. Katie had thrown up twice and I feared it would shortly be my turn. Although I managed to avoid praying to the porcelain god, I did end up spending the next 18 hours in bed. I drank little and ate even less.

***
As I ran past the first half mile mark, I realized I was going too fast for what this run called for. I tried slowing it down a bit. The first three miles were an interesting struggle of the mind calling for a slower pace and the legs pushing for a faster one.

But at the end of those three miles however, the struggle had flipped. Suddenly my breathing became labored and the legs dragged. This was supposed to be an easy run, but it was quickly turning into a battle. The temperature continued to rise, 84°, 86°, 87°. The humidity wasn’t helping.

I considered calling it a day, but I thought of the post I had just written about Heart and the fact that this was the first workout of the program, and so I trudged on. I thought about the marathon pace long run scheduled this Sunday and I wondered how could I possibly do that. I was ready to quit.

But this was day 1. I couldn’t quit on day 1. I struggled on. From mile 6 on, I had to stop and walk for 30 seconds to a minute after every half mile. After arriving at the track at 7.5 miles, I stumbled through one lap and had to stop. My easy 8 miler had turned into a brutal, oppressive 7.75 miler.

I drank the last of my nuun water and stared at the other end of the football field 100 yards away. I needed to do 10 of these?

I felt woozy. I glanced over at 3 kids, recent graduates from the local high school, running a hurdles drill.

“Do you know where a drinking fountain is,” I asked.

One of the boys answered that there wasn’t one but they could give me some water. They filled my bottle half way up as I thanked them. It was all I could do not to sit on the ground, but I was afraid if I sat down, I wasn’t getting back up.

Another wave of nausea and the ground started to spin. I straightened myself out, but the ground continued to tilt. Suddenly with every blink came black spots. I gulped down the water, hoping it would help hold the world still.

The ground stopped moving, but it didn’t feel steady. The spots didn’t go away for several minutes. I focused on the conversation I was having, trying to breathe normally. Another spin, another wave.

I suddenly had a vision of these three kids making the front page of the local paper because they had rescued some poor old, passed out, aspiring marathoner from his own stupidity.

I again straightened up, thanked the boys, and proceeded to stumble home, skipping the strides. When I weighed myself at home, I was nearly 5lbs lighter than when I had left for my run. This despite having drunk a bottle and a half of water and a bottle of mix1 recovery drink. I had obviously been sweating – a lot!

It took me the rest of the day and part of the evening to get back to feeling normal.

So why am I writing about this awful experience? What’s the point?

I should have waited until today to run. Aside from the marathon itself, schedules are not set in stone. If you’ve been sick, and not consuming liquids or calories, maybe it’s best to take the next day off.  Don’t be stupid like I was yesterday just because you can’t wait to get started.  If it hadn’t been for those boys at the track, I may well could have ended up passed out cold in the middle of the football field.

Hopefully the 9 miler tomorrow won’t be such a struggle.

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Heart

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Last week, a little over 12 weeks out from my next marathon, I suddenly had a crisis of confidence.

It’s not like I fear the marathon like I used to.  I know I am capable of finishing.  Yes, there is always a part of me that wonders “can I finish this marathon today” but for the most part, I know that if the fate of the world depended on me running 26.2 miles in one shot, I could do it, and the planet would be saved.

No, the crisis wasn’t about completing a marathon.

It was about finishing, more specifically, finishing strong.

***

I am close.

Real close.

Just over 9 minutes close to calling myself a Boston qualifier (3:20:59).  Yet many of the metrics used to project marathon times based on shorter races like the half-marathon and 10K indicate that I should be capable of running anywhere between a 3:07 and a 3:17.  My best to date?  A 3:30.

So what’s the problem?

I supposed I could reason that Boston is a tough race to qualify with.  I could argue that maybe I would have BQ’d in Providence had I not just run a Boston 2 weeks earlier.

But those would just be excuses.

Is Boston really 12 minutes harder?  Did running Boston really cost me 9 1/2 minutes in Providence?  I have a hard time believing that.

***

Many in my life will attest that I have struggled through much of my adult life with the concept of finishing.  I will start dozens of projects and finish a few.  One of the “few” things that I have maintained an almost laser-like focus on has been running.

Running has brought a certain amount of order to my life that was definitely lacking before.  With each race I have signed up for, I have been able to focus on a goal and follow it through.  The success or failure in achieving that goal (a sub-40 10K – SUCCESS!, a 1:30 half-marathon and a 3:20 mary – not yet) has almost been secondary to following the task to the finish line.

When I briefly ran cross-country in high school, I did it begrudgingly.  I ran because I really wasn’t any good at any other fall sport.  Unfortunately, I was expected to do something in the fall to stay fit for the spring track season (I ran the 330 IM hurdles – I was too slow for the 100, 220 and 440).  To say I didn’t like it is an understatement, plus, I really wasn’t any good.  I dropped out of a few races, a few because of injury, others because my heart was just not in it.

***

My heart was just not in it.

***

That statement has been floating around my head for the last few days.

Is that my problem?  Is it a heart issue?  A twitter friend said to me recently that she thought that heart was represented through determination.  I’m pretty sure that I have that.  Another friend said to me when I first started this marathon quest, that the last 6.2 miles of a marathon are where you really discover just who you are and what you are made of. The last 6.2 of Manchester showed me that I could finish what I had started, even if it meant doing so on frozen quads.  But as I look back at Boston and Providence through the lens of time, I wonder, what did those last 6.2 miles really tell me?  Did my body fail me, albeit to a lesser degree, again? did I error strategically? or was it my heart?

I am going to tell myself it was the first two, and I now have 12 weeks to prove it.  For my Boston/Providence double this Spring, I did not follow any particular training plan.  I simply ran.  I logged a tremendous amount of miles, but never followed any schedule, and quite honestly, never did much in the way of speed or threshold work.  That changes for this fall.

Yes, I am again pulling a double (this time 5 weeks apart), but my approach is going to be different.  I am running the Smuttynose Rockfest Marathon on October 3rd followed by New York City in November.

For the next 12 weeks I will be following a plan (the Pfitz 12/55) that works on endurance, speed and strategy.  Something I have come to realize, just now, is that race day strategy doesn’t start when the gun goes off.  It starts with the beginning of your training cycle.  I tried to execute a smart strategy in Boston on race day, but the training I had done (essentially all long runs) didn’t lend itself to doing that.

The training isn’t going to be easy.  There will be hard runs and easy runs over the next 12 weeks, but maybe that is what heart is all about.

To go back to my twitter friend, determination is where it all starts.  It’s time to train hard, and more importantly, train smart.

I’ve got 12 weeks to make my body match my heart.

My heart is set on 3:20.

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I Feel the Need…

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…the Need for Speed.

The primary training tool in the marathoner’s tool box is mileage. The more miles you put in the bank, the more likely you will be able to successfully complete a marathon. Logging 60 miles a week (something I’ve never done) will force your body to adjust to the concept of 26.2 miles much more aggressively than running 20 miles a week. That’s not to say that you can’t complete a marathon on 20 miles per week training, it’s just makes the task a bit more painful.

That said, my goal really has never been to just complete a marathon.  Don’t get me wrong.  Completing a marathon is huge.  HUGE!  But from the very start, I wanted to eventually be able to call myself a Boston Qualifier.   As much as I have improved over the past 8 months, dropping 24 minutes on my marathon time, I am still 9 minutes and 12 seconds short of accomplishing that goal.

As banged up as I was at the end of both Boston and Providence, my legs recovered quickly and I was upright and walking down stairs within a day.  Fitness is not the issue.

Speed is.

I have a need and the need is speed.  At both Boston, but especially at Providence, I had opportunities late in the game to pick up the pace and finish close to 3:20.  As much as I tried, the speed just wasn’t there at the end.  I never stopped running, but in both cases, the last three miles proved to be my undoing.

Enter Yasso & Galloway.

My hopes are that this fall, Bart Yasso and Jeff Galloway will take me to the promised land.

Both are running experts and both have “discovered” certain indicators that can tell you if you are ready and able to hit your desired marathon time.

I plan on using their methods as part of my speed training this summer to help me get to where I want to be.

You can find their indicators here & here, but in a nutshell they work as follows:

Yasso 800’s: Once a week you go to the track and run a series of 800 meter intervals.  Starting with 4 intervals and adding one each week, you try to run each 800 in minutes and seconds in the time that you would like to run your marathon in hours and minutes.  I would like to run a 3 hour 20 minute marathon or better, so I will run 800 meter intervals in 3 minutes and 20 seconds or less.  In between each interval you walk the same amount of time.  Eventually you build up to 10 intervals, and if you can do that, you should be ready to run your marathon.

Galloway’s Magic Mile: Once every 2 weeks or so, you run a mile about as hard as you can.  Galloway says that at the end of the measured mile you shouldn’t be able to maintain that pace for more than another 100 yards, though he does emphasize no puking.  Over the course of you training, you do 4 magic miles, eliminate the slowest, and average the remaining 3.  From there he has a program that calculates what your magic mile average indicates.  I need to average a 5:53 mile or better to run a 3:20 marathon.

The indicators alone won’t be enough speed work by themselves, so I plan on throwing in some shorter intervals along the way (some 400’s and 200’s).  If you have any suggestions, please let me know.  My goal this summer is to do Yasso 800’s once a week, running 3:20 splits or better and check my Magic Mile at least 3 times.  Hopefully come October (I’m looking at the Smuttynose Marathon on October 3rd) both of those indicators will tell me that I am more than ready to break the 3:20 barrier in the marathon.

Stay tuned!

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On Sunday I ran Boston 13.1.

When the alarm went off at 4AM, I thought, this is NOT going to go well. In fact, I had had that exact same thought as I finally drifted off to sleep just a little over 3 hours earlier. Despite having plans to run on Sunday, the wife and I had gone out to dinner with cousins and stayed out relatively late. 4AM arrived way too quickly.

After a shower and a quick bite to eat, I was off. Despite having to wake up at 4AM, I was thankful for the 6:15 race start. With temperatures quickly rising to 80° by 10AM, anything later would have made the race simply unbearable.

Turns out that the 13.1 Marathon Series Boston Edition didn’t actually take place in Boston. Instead, it was in the rolling hills of Milton and Canton. Rolling hills is putting it lightly, but more on that later. After failing to find my teammate Chris (the one who came in 4th last week) and my buddy Erin (in from Georgia), I made my way to the starting line. The starting corral was organized into pace sections (6:00 mile, 7:00 mile, etc). I wasn’t sure what my game plan was yet, nor did I have any clue as to how I was going to run. 3 hours of sleep and already rising temperatures made me a little nervous about going out too fast. I essentially wanted to beat 1:40, with my secret “time to beat” for the day a 1:35. With summer in full effect I knew there was no way I was going to challenge my Half-Mary PR of 1:33:14. So I placed myself at the front of the 8:00/mile pack, figuring I’d run somewhere in the 7:30 – 7:45 range for the race.

After a few minutes we were off. Unlike last week where I got sucked out by the Kenyan leaders, this week I was careful to go out with a little patience – or so I thought. I looked around for someone to latch onto but much like the Boston Run To Remember, nobody seemed to fit a pace that was comfortable for me. After a few minutes of bobbing and weaving, I found a couple that was running together and seemed to be moving along at a decent clip. I settled in behind them and focused on form. When we hit the first mile marker I was a bit surprised – 7:18. Huh! I was feeling pretty good, so I figured why not keep it up. As we hit the second mile in 7:19, I heard the guy say to his girlfriend that he thought they should pick up the pace. Again, I figured I was still feeling pretty good so why not keep up?

Just before mile 2 the hills started to kick in. They weren’t nasty – not yet anyway – but definitely provided a bit of a challenge this early in the morning. The course had several out and back branches, the first one starting at mile 3. This first branch was only about 2 1/2 miles altogether and was uneventful except that I was able to get a glimpse of the leader as he ran past in the other direction. This early in the race, it appeared that he already had a good 3 – 4 minute lead. I was happy to see my RaceMenu teammate Chris sitting comfortably in 2nd. We’ve exchanged hello’s as we passed each other. As I made it back to the start of this first branch, I realized that I was running steadily in the low 7’s. Much faster than I had planned, but feeling good nonetheless. Visions of a PR started to dance in my head – that is until I turned the corner onto out and back branch number 2 at mile 5. I took a deep breath as I stared at a hill that simply went up and appeared to continue up as the path turned around another corner. I found out over 7 1/2 minutes later that the hill went up for a full mile. For the non-runner, a 30 second drop in pace may not seem much, but add it up over 13 miles and you’re talking about a 6 1/2 minutes swing in your time.

While tackling this hill I was struck with doubt. I seriously wondered if I had been unwise to run the first 5 miles at the pace I had with as little sleep as I had had the night before. I tried to employ my falling uphill technique with mixed results. I could only do it in spurts, but it was carrying me past dozens of people, and even when I had to straighten up, momentum continued to carry me. I must have passed 30 people on the way up the hill. When I realized this, my attitude began to change for a second time.

As we approached the turnaround just past mile 7 I began counting the runners coming the other way. The leader had come and gone minutes earlier. Chris was in a battle for 2nd place some 5 – 6 minutes behind. We slapped 5 as we passed each in a neat moment I will not forget. A minute or so after that came the rest of the pack. 4, 5, 6…10, 15, 20…25, 26, 30…35, 40…45, 50, 60…69, 70, 72…77, 78, 79… I was sitting in the 80th spot. Okay, I can deal with that. 80th. That’s not bad. But then I started thinking about the previous week’s race. I didn’t want to get passed. My goal had been to finish in the top 100 in this race, and yes, I was sitting at 80th, but there was another 6.1 miles to go.

After the turnaround, there was a slight uphill, where my falling uphill technique helped my catch 4 or 5 runners, and then it was downhill for the next 2 1/2 miles. It sounds great, but it is tough on the quads! As I hit mile 8 I heard a woman yell “LUAU!!!”. I turned just in time to see my Twitter/Dailymile buddy Erin go running by in the other direction. I waved as best I could and kept going.

By this time, the runners had spread out pretty thinly. There were two runner about 30 yards ahead of me. I set my sights on reeling them in. At about mile 9 I caught them. As I contemplated whether to run with them or try to pass them, one of them looked at me and said, “Hey! Are you that guy with that blog on dailymile?” I did a double take. Well, uh, yeah, actually I am. He told me that he had just stumbled onto my blog not 4 or 5 days before. In fact, he had sent me an email asking me a question about running in Vibrams (Eric, I promise I’m getting around to answering that email very shortly!). We chatted over the next mile about running marathons (I found out he had run a 3:09 marathon and qualified for Boston) and running in general. At about mile 10 he backed off and I looked ahead to the next group of runners in front of me. Our pace had closed the gap significantly on the next group. As we rounded a corner at 10.5 I realized that I was probably sitting now somewhere around 60th. I chugged along to mile 11, blissfully clipping along.

Then came mile 12. Ever since mile 6, the hills had been relatively mild. But mile 12 made mile 6 look like a wannabe. It just went and went at a much steeper incline. Again I took a deep breath, but this time I was determined to take the battle to the hill. I shortened my stride, controlled my breathing and went. Leaning into the hill, I passed 5 runners just as the hill started. I felt like I was either moving at a decent clip or the runners in front of me were losing their fight with the hill (turns out it was a little of both – I wasn’t going as nearly as fast as I would have hoped, but it was fast enough to pass these runners). I passed another group of 4 or 5 runners. Now there were no more pods in front of me, just lone islands of single runners struggling to make it to 12. One by one I picked them off. I tried to control my breathing, softening it as I went by those that were struggling. I didn’t want them to know that I was feeling the pain too. I kept running and I slowing kept passing runners. As I approached the top of the hill I came upon the last water station.

1.1 miles to go.

I saw 3 or 4 runners slowing down to grab a drink. Did I have a strong enough 1.1 left in me to pass up this last water station? I decided to gamble and blew right through.

1.1 miles to go. I knew I was less than 8 minutes from the finish. I could suffer through 8 minutes.

I caught a few more runners. There in the distance was one more runner in blue. He had to be at least 50 – 60 yards ahead of me. At this point, there was about a quarter mile to go. There was simply no way to catch him. It couldn’t be done. But I again flashed to the Father’s Day 10K from the previous week. I remembered how I had been passed in the final mile. I remembered how I gave up trying to catch him with about 200 yards to go. I remembered how that guy cost me a 2nd place finish in my age group.

NOT. THIS. FRAKKING. TIME!

I turned the engine into overdrive. I had already kicked it up a notch at the start of the hill, but I was able to find another gear and then another after that. I kept looking at him and then at the finish line and then back at him again. He was in cruise mode, settled into his place.

I was closing, but running out of real estate.

I kept pushing. My legs were screaming, my lungs were burning.

I heard the crowd pick up the volume. They knew what I was trying to do.

With 70 yards to go, he was still a good 20 yards in front of me.

Suddenly he sensed something was wrong. Maybe someone in the crowd tipped him off. His head turned slightly as he pick up his pace. I covered 20 yards in the time it took him to cover 10. We were now 10 yards apart, with 50 yards to go. He tried to turn on the gas but it was too late. I was flying and his engine was in cruise control. I passed him with 1 yard to go. It was close enough that both of our guntimes read 1:33:58. But I know I beat him to the finish.

He came over and patted me on the back. I chatted with a few of the runners that came in right after me, exchanging congratulations. As I left the finishing chute, I ran into Chris. He had finished in second, pulling away late in the race from his rival. I waited and cheered Erin in. We exchanged big sweaty hugs. She PR’d by 10 minutes!

In the end, I didn’t PR. Officially my time was 1:33:47, a half minute off my PR, but I managed to finish 41st overall out 2681 finishers and 4th in my age group (out of 106 men ages 40 – 44, and out of 188 men in their 40’s). Yes, another 4th place finish in my age group and unfortunately, this time there were no 40 year olds in the top three overall finishers. That said, I felt pretty damned good about my result, especially considering that when I woke up Sunday morning, I was pretty convinced that this race was not going to end well for me.

The race itself, though great for me, was somewhat of a disaster organizationally speaking. The finishing chute was too crowded with no easy exit. The medals, usually handed out to runners as they finish, were only available across a large field in an unmarked location. The usual amenities one expects at a half or full marathon (i.e. massage tents, food and beer) were only available to runners who ran with Team Challenge. But the very worst mistake that I heard about later was that the organizers ran out of cups at the water stations midway through the race. Though I wasn’t carrying my own hydration, I was lucky to be ahead enough to have missed that, but many of the runners were forced to take swigs out of gallon jugs as they went through the water stations. I can’t imagine having to drink from a bottle that the sweaty stranger in front of you just slobbered all over. And from what I understand, a couple of the stations actually ran out of water all together. A definite liability in the hot and humid weather.

That said, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was able to run much faster than I expected and the hills that I was so worried about turned out to help me in the end.

Here’s the elevation chart:

Miles 6 & 12 were killers

With this race out of the way, it’s time to concentrate on my five miler coming up at the end of July. I’ve never run a race that short, and I realize that I have to work on speed – a topic for another post.

Erin & I right after she PR'd by 10 minutes. You gotta love a girl who's willing to give you a big, sweaty hug and not care!

I also ran into Eric post-race. I promise that email reply is coming!

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Drive

If we can’t live together, we’re gonna die alone.

-Jack Shephard


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What am I running from?

What am I running to?

What drives me?

Is it as simple as that?

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation about the relationship between self-image and food. The gist of that particular conversation was that some people use food to fill a void or ease a pain in their lives.  The void or pain “drives” them to food.

Not a revelation, I know.

But for some people, they need to hear it out loud or from an “expert” to internalize it and then use that information in a positive way.

That conversation got me thinking about my relationship with running.  Without a doubt there are some who have substituted running for food in the above mentioned relationship.  I don’t think that it’s a lot of people, but it’s a reality.   I had to ask myself, what about MY relationship with running?

Is there a void? And am I trying to fill it with miles upon endless miles? Is there a buried pain that I am not aware of (or choose not to be aware of) on the surface?

I consider myself a pretty shallow guy. I don’t mean that in a negative sense. I mean that for the most part, when it comes to me, what you see is what you get. There are a few deep undercurrents, but I am generally an open book and am pretty easy to read. At least that’s what I believe.

So what drives me? Why do I do this? Why get up early or go to bed late to run.

A long time ago I had a huge competitive streak. I worked hard to be first in everything I did, whether it was in academics, on the track, or in the ring. I wasn’t always the best, and sometimes I had my ass handed to me with a side of humble pie, but I always came at it hard.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my edge…completely. So when I discovered running 18 months ago, and found that one could be competitive no matter the talent level, my fire was somewhat renewed.

I love running because, despite the fact that 99% of us will never win a race outright, we can feed our competitive fire with the runners that are around us. Whether you’re fighting for 10th, 100th or 1000th place, you can still fight, push, give 100% and feel good about how you did. Disappointing finishes can be used to fuel the fire and drive you.  A fantastic finish can feed your desire even more.  In the end you are truly only racing against one person – yourself.

That is what has driven me in my runs for the last 18 months.  Trying to PR with every race, trying to push myself harder and faster than I did before.

But this past week brought me a completely different kind of fuel.  One that can be just as powerful, if not more so, than the re-kindled internal flame that has been driving me.  This summer I am running for my girls.  One of my two daughters is on the autism spectrum, the other is typically developing, but both are greatly affected by the effects of autism.  Though my little one is the one who struggles daily with autism, my older one has had to learn how to accommodate a little sister who can act in ways that don’t always make sense, are sometimes irrational, and quite frankly, from my older one’s perspective, occasionally embarrassing.

Though her struggle is nothing like that of my little Brooke’s, Katie’s struggles are nonetheless real and truly burdensome.  Katie, in a lot of ways, has had to grow up more rapidly than her peers.  She tries to find a balance between being a typical 9-year-old girl and being the big sister of a 7-year-old with autism.  I have to remind her on a regular basis that she does not need to “mother” her sister.

But there is a third girl in my family who has been deeply affected by autism as well – the Wife.  She has had to take a different path than I am sure she imagined when we first said, “I do” (coincidentally, this past Sunday was our 11th anniversary).  Having carried both our girls for 9 months,  she has felt every bit of pain and frustration she sees in both Brooke and Katie in ways that cut deep and leave scars. She has found her outlets through her blog and has become a uniter of sorts in the local community, helping create a very popular inclusion committee at the girls’ elementary school.  But she too, along with Brooke and Katie, struggles with the rippling effects of autism on a daily, if not hourly, basis.

When I first got word from Autism Speaks that I had been accepted to be part of their team for the 2010 ING New York City Marathon, I focused almost completely on my little Brooke.  I sent out emails and updates on Twitter, Dailymile and Facebook asking people to help me help my little girl Brooke, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this run, these efforts by Autism Speaks, my reason for asking you for donations and/or spreading the word, were less about just Brooke and more about the big picture – the families and circle of friends that are affected by weight of autism.

Autism can be isolating, not just for the person affected by it, but for the entire family.  From a personal perspective, I can tell you that autism, although introducing us to a whole new world of friends (Drama, Jersey, Judith, Pixie, Jeneil?  We love you!), it has also kept or pushed us to the periphery with other groups.  I don’t blame those people who have fallen off our social radar.  Part of it has been our own doing.  Some people just don’t get it or are unable to convey and instill their own compassion into their children and because of that we have withdrawn.  But sometimes, it is the other families that pull away, because it is the parents who can’t wrap their brains around what it is we go through on a daily basis.  Again, I don’t blame them.  It’s human nature to pull away from something we can’t understand.  Hopefully awareness can change some of that.

And so I run this summer.  I run for Autism Speaks.  I run to raise autism awareness.  I run to make the world a friendlier place for my Brooke.  I run to make the world less of a burden for my Katie.  I run to help the wife see a world where the sun is in fact shining, there are fewer tears, and the occasional torrential rain storm can be a good thing because it can lead to rapid  growth.  I run to help others, whether they are affected by autism or not, to reach across their differences and shake hands in friendship.  In the end, whether it is autism, some other disorder, religion, politics or whatever it is that divides us,  if we can learn to appreciate and understand our differences, we can learn to live and thrive together.

Yes, I have found a new fuel to drive me this summer – it starts with my three girls, Brooke, Katie and the Wife.

Brooke, the Wife & Katie

I hope you will join me in my fight.

Click —>HERE<— to link to my Autism Speaks donor page OR THERE—> Bookmark and Share to help me spread the word.

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As I walked along the sidewalk I could feel the right side of my body heat up under the rays of the rising sun.  Just on the other side of a small wall was the beach, the ocean’s wave splashing invitingly.

A bead of sweat ran from my temple and down my cheek.  I looked at my watch.

9AM.

The race wasn’t starting for another hour, and that was only if it was starting on time.  One more hour for the sun to rise higher in the sky and give off its intense heat.  I puttered up and down the sidewalk, stretching a little, jogging a little, trying to work out the crick in my neck I had woken up with 2 days earlier.  I wasn’t feeling great about this race.

4 months earlier I had run a 10K in sub-freezing weather.  Initially I had worried about the cold, but I discovered that at that temperature, I was actually kind of fast.  I finished in a flashy 39:29.  I toyed with the idea of going sub-40 this past Sunday, but with the temperature as it was at 9AM, I re-evaluated and thought maybe a sub-45 was a smarter goal.  Normally I enjoy the hour before a race, but the heat was so intense that I was afraid to sit still for too long, and so I wandered like a lost soul.

Finally, at 10, we were called to the starting line.  The announcement came over the PA that if you were planning on running 17-minute 5K splits, you should step to the front of the line, otherwise step back.  I took several steps back, along with everyone else.  Two Kenyans joined us where  we stood.  My teammate Lisa* leaned over and told me that they were the heavy favorites.  I took another step back.  The two Kenyans kept shuffling backwards and everybody else followed suit.  I looked over at another teammate, Chris, and said, “I wish they’d stop shuffling back.  Aren’t they supposed to be right on the starting line?”  He nodded and laughed.

Finally the starter asked everyone to step to the line.  The crowd pushed me forward and I found myself lined up alongside the Kenyans.  “This is not good,” I thought.  Chris asked me what I was shooting for.  “40 if it were 30° cooler, you?”  He said 36.

That's me between one of the Kenyans and the guy in the blue shirt...Chris is to my left, Lisa is to my right

Hmmm.  36.  Maybe I won’t be hanging with you too long.

The starter raised the horn, counted down and we were off!  I followed my teammate as we shot off the starting line.  Initially it didn’t feel so fast, but I knew I had started too quickly when my breathing became heavy almost immediately.  A quarter of a mile in a photographer took a shot of the lead pack.  It was the Kenyans, Chris, another runner and me.  I very quickly realized that this could end poorly for me.  I had no business being in this lead pack.  As we hit mile marker 1, with the Kenyans already 20 yards ahead, I looked at my watch.

5:55

5:55?!? What the heck was I thinking?  I had a moment of panic as I tried to keep up.  I made a very quick decision to slow it down drastically.  As I watched my friend pull away, I focused on getting to the turn around.  The race had been set up as a 3.1 mile out and back loop.  I knew the turn around was less than 3 minutes away.  With the heat pounding down on us the way it was, I was going to have to break this race down into 4  1.5 mile races to get through it.  By the time we hit the first turnaround, a few runner had caught and passed me.

There is no worse feeling in a road race than getting passed, but again, I also knew that I had no business being this far ahead of the pack.

We hit the turn, I grabbed some water, took a sip, poured the rest down my back and headed back.

BAM!  The wind hit me hard.  In retrospect, I don’t think that the wind was actually that strong, but when combined with the heat and humidity, it felt like I was running into a wall of jello-pudding.

Mile 2 arrived quickly, 6:36, But I could already feel myself fading.  The heat was getting to me.  A few more runners passed me, but I kept plugging along.  I spotted the building that we had started at and looked at my watch.  Oh!  Just under 6:00! Maybe I’m doing better than I thought.  That gave me a little energy boost as I honed in on the turnaround…except it wasn’t the building and the turnaround wasn’t there.  I looked up to see an identical building a couple hundred yards down.  There was the building we had started at.  My small boost of energy quickly deflated.  Mile 3 still arrived at a respectable 7:12.

As I hit the turn, there were my girls.  I shifted right to give my Katie a high five.

You can just make out Katie behind the garbage can with her "Go Dad" hat

She was wearing the same “Go Dad!” hat she had worn for Boston.  I shot out of the turnaround at 20:18 – striking distance of a sub-40 – and sitting in 15th place.

Katie had given me a small energy boost that carried me over mile 4 in 7:05 (my first and only negative split of the day!).  I struggled to make to the turn, but kept telling myself that once I was out of this turn it was only 1.7 to go.  I took a gulp of water, poured the rest down my back and prepared to be hit by the wind.  It didn’t hit me quite as hard this time, but in looking back I realize that it was because I wasn’t going nearly as fast.  I pushed on, knowing that I essentially only had to keep this up for another 12 minutes or so.

The mile 5 marker came and went.  I looked at my watch.  7:20.  I was slowing down.  Shortly after passing the marker I got passed one more time.    I tried to hang with the guy, but every time I tried to hit the accelerator I got nothing.  It was like cranking an engine with a dying battery, and my legs were dying!!! Mile 6 came in a relatively slow 7:37.  Chris was standing there and yelled, “300 meters!  Kick it in!”

As I passed the last water stop I yelled, “Throw it in my face!!!”  The kid holding the water cup looked confused.  “Throw the water in my face!” I yelled again.  One of the other volunteers told the kid to throw in my face.  Finally he got.  As I went through the water stop, I got hit three time.  It woke me up!  The legs came somewhat alive and I pushed it for all I had.

One last push

Unfortunately, the guy who had just passed me did the exact same thing.    I closed on him but in the end I ran out of real estate.

Coming around the final turn, I high fived Katie again and went through the finishing chute.  43:11.  I had covered the last 0.2 in a 7:00/mile pace.  I leaned on my knees, breathing hard.  As miserable as it was, I have to admit it was fun.  One of the things I love about out and back races is that you get to see everybody.  Throughout the race I was able to shoot hello’s to teammates and various runners who I had met before the race, plus I really got to see the two Kenyan runners in action, up close.  They ran with a fluidity I can only dream of.

When the results sheet went up I almost tore out my hair.  4 months earlier I had missed the podium by 2 seconds, finishing 4th in my age group.  When I first saw the initial results, there I was, 43:11, 16th place out of 169 finishers, 4th in my age group.  4th?!?  Again?  This time by 9 seconds.  Remember that guy who passed me just after mile 5?  Yeah, that was him.  I couldn’t believe it.  What I forgot however, was that in the final posting of the results, most race directors remove the overall podium finishers from the age group category, so surprise, surprise, I found myself on the podium at the awards ceremony.  3rd place in my age group!  I’ll take it!

So what did I learn from this race?  Lesson #1:  unless you are Kenyan, don’t try to run with them.  As thrilling as it was to run next to poetry in motion for a 1/2 mile, I paid for it dearly over the next 5.7 miles.  Lesson #2:  no matter how tired you are, dig deeper at the end to get that final kick and start it before the final 0.2 miles.  The last guy that passes you could be the difference between a podium finish or not.  Lesson #3: racing on a team can help your motivation.  I managed to finish 2nd on the RaceMenu/mix1 team, but part of what kept me motivated was seeing my teammates out on the course.  A simple wave or a nod was an acknowlegement of a shared effort to get through a race under brutally hot conditions.

Up next is the Boston13.1 half-marathon this coming Sunday.  I’m praying that the 6:15 AM start means much lower temperatures.

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*Back in March I was asked to join the RaceMenu/mix1 racing team.  I have now run the Boston Marathon, the Providence Marathon, the Boston Run to Remember Half-Marathon and the Father’s Day 10K with them, and it has been a pleasure meeting the teammates I have.  Check out RaceMenu at www.RaceMenu.com.

My Little Brooke

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On November 7th, 2010 I will be running the ING New York City Marathon. It will be my 4th, possibly 5th, marathon, but it will be the first that I run representing a charity. I have chosen a charity that is very close to my heart – Autism Speaks. My daughter, Brooke, has autism. She was diagnosed over 3 years ago and when my wife and I were told the news, there was very little support out there. In the time since then, the tools and resources available to families with new diagnoses has come a very long way. Part of that is due in large part to the efforts of Autism Speaks.

They have been a tireless advocate of awareness, something both the wife and I strongly believe in.

Ignorance is the parent of fear and cruelty.

In an ignorant world, my daughter would have been called a brat, or willful child, or worse, stupid. In an ignorant world she would have been constantly punished for behavior that she is unable to control without assistance. In an ignorant world, my daughter may well have been looked upon with disapproval and judgement from both teachers and peers. Thanks in part to the efforts of Autism Speaks and charities like it, my daughter does not live in a world of ignorance. We may not be where we need to be yet, but we are on our way.

Awareness is the parent of understanding and compassion.

With awareness comes understanding which can eventually lead to compassion. I have been amazed how people have responded to my little Brooke once they know what she has to deal with on a daily basis. Once they understand that a room full of talking children can literally be a painful assault on her ears, or that trying to follow what a teacher is saying in class can be as if you were trying to understand a lecture on economics by a professor who spoke 4 out of 5 words in a language you didn’t understand, or that a simple, repetitive sound that you or I simply block out as white noise becomes an itch that she cannot possibly hope to scratch; once people understand this, their awareness quickly turns to compassion. People start looking out for Brooke because they know that in the end, she is just like any one of us, just a little different on how she perceives the world.

I believe that the more people I can make aware of autism and its effects on both those who have it and their families, the better the world will be when my little girl grows up. The wife and I have, from a very early point, been fairly public about autism, Brooke and our family. Not everyone chooses to “come out” if you will, and I have grown to accept and even understand that. By the same token, I feel that as long as autism is kept in a dark corner, hidden away as something to be ashamed of, then ignorance, fear and cruelty will continue to exist and grow.

Running for awareness.

And so I run. This November I will run to help push the boundaries of awareness. I will talk to anyone who asks about the lows and highs (yes, highs) of having a child on the autism spectrum. I will encourage people to speak loud and speak proud of their children or themselves. I will remind parents that no victory is too small to cheer and that no defeat is too large to throw in the towel.

Autism Speaks is a charity I respect and have a passion for. They do so much and work so hard to make the world a better place for my Brooke, for both today and tomorrow. But it’s not just my Brooklet that they are helping. Everyday a new family is devastated with the news that someone in their family, whether they are 3, 13 or 23 years old, has been diagnosed with autism. I have had many friends come to me over the past year asking questions and expressing concerns about their own children. With resources like the First 100 Days Kit, these families are now able to find the tools to help ease that initial pain and start moving in a positive direction.

So I am asking you to help me help my little Brooke and all the families out there affected by autism. You can do that by clicking

—>HERE<—

The link will take you directly to my fundraising page for this year’s New York City Marathon. I need to raise at least $2600. Much of the funds that Autism Speaks raises goes to research, but a portion of it also goes directly to grants that are reviewed by the parents of children with autism. They make an effort to make sure that the funds they distribute can benefit many of us directly. Autism Speaks is truly working to make the world a better place both today AND tomorrow. I know that many of you have helped me in the past when our family has done the Autism Speaks Walks. I am truly grateful for that, and I am asking for your help once again. Having learned to walk, it’s now time for me to run. I hope that you will support me as I try to make the world just a little more aware, a little more understanding, a little more compassionate.

Thank you so much.

Help Me Help Brooke To Fly

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So as runners, we tend to find new and interesting ways to keep ourselves motivated. Whether it’s an attempt to beat our previous month’s mileage or outrun an online friend (you hear me @5KJunkie?), we use what we can to motivate ourselves.  As young sports fans growing up, many of us believed in “the jinx”.  When watching a game, if you were sitting in a certain spot when your team got hot, you didn’t move for fear of jinxing them. If you were holding a certain beverage, even if it was your girlfriend’s girlie drink, when your team came to life, you continued to hold that drink, despite your girlfriend’s protests, for fear of jinxing your team.  If you were wearing a ratty old t-shirt when your team upset another, you were sure to wear it for the next game for fear of jinxing them.

Yes, the idea that you or I could have a profound effect on the outcome of a professional sporting event is completely ridiculous. We know that but we continue to act as if the outcome could depend solely on us.

I attempted to combine these two things (motivation and superstition) this week in an attempt to help my hometown Celtics get one step closer to their 18th NBA championship, however I made one fatal mistake, at least when it came to game 3.  On Monday and Tuesday, with the series tied 1 – 1, I ran a total of 18 miles, thinking that the my running those miles would bring luck to the Celtics.  What I failed to realize was that one cannot create the luck.  My running the 18 miles had nothing to do with the lead up to the C’s win on Sunday.  PLUS, for Tuesday’s game, instead of sitting on the couch where I was for game 2 (a win), I went to a buddy’s house to watch the game.

So now I’m re-jiggering.  I went out this morning and ran 6.03 miles, the same distance I ran the day after Boston lost game 1.  All I have to do now is follow it up tomorrow with a 9 miler (like I did the morning of game 2) and then make sure I am on MY couch tomorrow night for game 4, a definite must win for the Celtics.

Do you believe?

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