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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AND running is fun again.

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

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

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

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Why do you run?

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

I have a friend.   I have only met him in the real world once.  He was a large part of why I was able to qualify for Boston back in October of last year – we carried each other for 15 miles.  On that day he missed qualifying for Boston by seconds.  As joyful as my day was, it was devastating to see him just miss his goal.

Instead of folding up his tent and going home, my friend doubled-down and trained even harder for his next marathon, which took place in May in Pittsburgh.  His training was epic to say the least.  To put it in perspective, I just passed 1200 running miles for 2011  last night.  As of 9 days ago, my friend had logged nearly 1800 miles.

1800 miles!!!

He was a man possessed, and when he crossed the finish line in May, he WAS a Boston Qualifier.

I know the feeling – the joy, the wave of emotion, the satisfaction…the “what now?”

Huh?

That’s right.   I recently read in his final post on dailymile that he was “taking a break” from the social network to find his passion for running again.  Boy, do I know that feeling.   I was fortunate enough to have the New York City Marathon line up just 5 weeks after my BQ and then Boston 2011 5 months after that to keep me focused on my training, but after Boston I simply lost “it”.

I was rudderless.  I tried to re-focus my energy by signing up for another marathon, but in the end, I just didn’t have the same drive I had had when I was focused on qualifying for Boston.

Truth be told, I am still wandering, attempting to kick start myself again and again, but I do see signs of my focus coming back.  It’s taken my 4 months, but it’s starting to come together again.

I hope my friend doesn’t stay away too long.

His departure will send ripples throughout the dailymile community and will be felt by all.  He always had an inspirational word for his friends and his workouts were worth emulating.

***

I hope you find your passion again Brendan.  You are an inspiration to many and proof that hard work pays off.  You motivated people not by your words but by your actions.  Enjoy your break – I hope to see you on the ‘mile in October when we both start training again for Boston 2012.

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Why do you run?

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

A few years ago I heard of a race called Last Chance for Boston.  It takes place in Dublin, Ohio and used to be billed as a marathoner’s last chance to qualify for Boston.  It seemed like a miserable endeavor to me – 26 laps around a 1 mile loop of an office park, just outside Columbus, Ohio, outside, in the dead of winter.  Yikes.

As any marathoner knows, the landscape has changed.  Registration closed in just hours last year.  The B.A.A. made some adjustments for 2012 that should stretch the process out a week or two, but the likelihood is that registration will be closed within a week.  If you are looking to run Boston 2012, you must have run a qualifying time by September 19th just to have a shot at registering.

If you are like me, barely qualifying by the skin of your teeth, you may be looking for a chance to improve upon your registration slot.

Whichever the case may be, there is a new marathon that is currently being put together that, pending approval, will give you one last shot at either qualifying or improving your registration position.

Details are still few and far between, but the current particulars are this:

Date: September 11th
Format: Time TrialI’ve seen that in bike races, never at a marathon.
Size: The term “Exclusivity” is being used with the idea of a “very small field”
Towns Involved: Concord, Lincoln, Bedford and Lexington (MA)

Again, the race is still pending some approvals, but if that happens this marathon WILL be a certified Boston Qualifier.

So, who’s interested?

*I will update this post as more details come out, but in the meantime, ask around, see what you hear.

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Why do you run?

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

When I tell people about running marathons, almost universally the response I get is, “I could never do that”.  My answer always is that just about anyone can run a marathon.  All you have to do is try, let go of preconceived notions about yourself and try on my running shoes.  Spend a week, a month, a year in my running shoes, widen your perspective and you will be hooked.  Just because you don’t understand it or don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s bad or not for you.

***

Reading through a friend’s facebook feed the other day I came across a post regarding the movie The Change Up.  There is a movement among some to boycott the movie because one character refers to another’s twin boy by asking if they are retarded.  When the father responds no, the friend asks, “are you sure, this one looks a bit downsy.”

I’m not going to go into the fact that the humor is on the offensive side of the fence and, in my humble opinion, unimaginative.  Anybody who reads this blog or my wife’s blog regularly knows where we stand on the word “retarded” and its use as either humor or insult.  The same goes for using those with Down’s Syndrome in a similar manner.

What got to me was the response of a particular fellow who snapped back at my friend with the following comments:

Isn’t this taking political correctness to an extreme? What would be acceptable, “what, are they hindered? Are you sure[?] this one looks a little suppressed”. Then after a month we couldnt [sic] use the H word right? cut the shit.

Somebody responded:

wow… cut the shit? tell you what, let’s make YOUR kid ‘retarded’ for a week. after, you can let me know how you feel about the world using him/her as a laughing point, k? better yet- why don’t YOU cut the shit. *disgusted*

To which he said:

First of all, I’ve done more direct volunteer work with “Retarded” children and adults in my lifetime than you could do in three lifetimes. I’ve done so since I was a child with my Mother. so that alone gives me my right to an opinion. I personally worked every Pat’s home game for two seasons at a concession stand at Gillette with every penny going to down syndrome. My point is it’s one thing to say directly a person with down syndrome “what are you retarded?’ that’s ignorant. But to reference the condition as Retarded or “downsey”. Is harmless in my eyes. there is a difference between “Special needs” and Down syndrome or retarded. Retarded is a gentle dictionary term for someone who is hindered from functioning in the same capacity as someone who is not “Retarded. Retarded WAS the kinder and gentler term as opposed to Mongoloid or even as they were scientifically referred to in the 1920 as idiots. I’m just tired of all this cock and bull false sensitivity you tree huggers throw out there to make you feel better about your own pitiful lives and I wonder when enough is enough.

As for those of you who have been blessed with a special child, you know as well as i do, your lucky ones and god’s chosen ones. You should also know that any of those children only want to be treated like anyone else. that’s includes joking teasing and loving. they don’t need to be shielded and understand more than most would give them credit. [To another commenter], I’d take a walk in your shoes any day and love it. My contribution was not years ago, it’s been off and on my whole life. I thoroughly enjoyed watching people look at me in horror being my usual “off color” self with my buddies and then laughing their collective asses off when they would all conspire to pelt me Mozzerella cheese balls from the pizzas we were making at Gillette. And guess who got all the hugs at the end of the day. that’s right this guy. I’m just saying lighten the fuck up. being ignorant does not make you a bad person, it just makes you ignorant. One without knowledge. You don’t have to change the fucking words, change some minds. Do you think your going to reach someone by scolding them for using the only words for it they know?

Educate. Don’t further isolate your kids by Trying to make others feel bad when I’m sure their intention weren’t. This society is over sensitized and overly pussified.
Next thing you know we will be electing a Special Needs president to compensate for our years of ignorance.
(yes i know that one was bad. I just had to get an Obama dig in here)

This was my response:

I think you are melding two issues. I agree with you that this Nation has become weak due in large part to this “everybody wins” attitude. If everybody wins all the time, nobody wins…however, we’re talking in part about a group of people who to a large degree cannot defend themselves, and when you are talking about certain subsets of that community, parents who are also unable to deftly defend their children. I am ALL for good natured teasing…particularly about things we can change, but let’s not make fun of a person because they were born with an extra chromosome or have a brain disorder…it just ain’t funny…

flatulence…now that’s funny!

So here’s the thing.  This guy firmly believes what he is saying (writing) – he really believes that he has done “more direct volunteer work with ‘Retarded’ children and adult in [his] lifetime than [the respondent – a parent of a Special Needs Child] could do in three lifetimes.”  He really believes that we [special needs parents] are all tree huggers who throw out “cock and bull” to make ourselves feel better about our own pitiful lives, and yet turns around to say that those of you who have been blessed with a special child, you know as well as i do, your lucky ones and god’s chosen ones.”  For him to then say “You should also know that any of those children only want to be treated like anyone else. that’s includes joking teasing and loving. they don’t need to be shielded and understand more than most would give them credit.” just goes to show that he doesn’t understand that sure we all want to be teased a little, but only if we are able to dish it back.  Teasing is good when it is a back and forth, not a one way street.

This guy here, this guy is why I continue to work for awareness, why I continue to run with my Autism Speaks pin, why I sometimes tell people that until you have walked in the shoes of a Special Needs parent, you cannot know what it is that they go through, what it is that pains them, what it is that scares the living daylights out of them and keeps them up all night.

The commenter said that he would walk in my friend’s “shoes any day and would love it.”  How about walking in the shoes of a parent whose kids have been wiping their shit on the wall for the past 18 years?  Tell me you’ll love it then.  Obviously he doesn’t get it.  I hope someday he may take a walk in our shoes, not just for the workday, not just for 24 hours, not just for a week.  I hope that he is given the opportunity to truly understand what it is we go through on a LIFETIME basis.  There is no end of the week, month or year for us.

Do I think we need to lighten up sometimes? Sure.  Sometimes we get trapped in our own storms and cannot find our way out.  Do we need to be able to laugh at ourselves? Absolutely.  Do our kids (and adult like them) need to learn to do the same?  Totally.

But there has to be a better way to do that instead of making these kids punchlines that will carry far beyond the movie theater.  What the commenter fails to understand is that once people see that it is acceptable to make a joke about “retarded and downsey” people in the theater, they will take it with them to their workplace, their playground, their community, at which point what was originally meant as harmless humor (and I don’t doubt that the writers of the screenplay meant it as harmless) ends up getting used in spiteful, mean-spirited, cruel ways that can cause much greater long term harm.

Honestly, I may still go see the movie.  Tropic Thunder had a similar issue, and quite honestly, that moment aside, I thought it was hilarious.  I just hope that people will think twice about laughing at the expense of someone for just being.  Laugh at the funny faces runners make at the end of a race, laugh at the fact that I almost pooped my pants in my last marathon, laugh at someone’s politics, be comfortable enough to laugh at yourself (said the skinny kid with the huge melon – yeah, that’s me).  Heck, laugh at public figures for saying ridiculous things, but don’t make fun of our kids just because they have autism or down’s syndrome or any other debilitating disease.

Quite frankly, that’s lazy and weak.  Maybe the commenter will be “blessed with a special child [and find that he is one of the] lucky ones and god’s chosen ones.”  I wonder if he will still feel that way when 10 years later he still hasn’t heard his child speak a single word, or a simple “I love you” or received a single hug.

Truth be told, I hope for his sake, and for the sake of that child, he doesn’t – I don’t think he has the feet to fill our shoes.

***

By the way, there is a tree hugger in our family.  It is little Brooke, who literally goes up to trees and hugs them.

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“Yeah, I had some, uh, bathroom problems at 12.”
“Promise me that if it happens again you’ll stop”
“Um…”
“Just promise me…please.”
“Ok…I promise”
-A phone conversation between me and Jess somewhere around mile 15

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

On Friday night I suffered my very first DNF (did not finish).  It was a disappointment to say the least.

I may have been under trained, under motivated and mildly under the weather, but I kept thinking maybe fresh legs would carry me through the day.  Man was I wrong.

I’ve had trouble writing this race recap – maybe because it was my first DNF, maybe because once one goes once around the 3.1 mile loop of the course, one has seen it all, maybe because after an hour of running it got so dark there was nothing really to see other than the few feet in front of me.  I don’t know, regardless, this has been a tough one to compose.

***

I initially started at the back of the pack, not exactly sure what my game plan was gonna be.  I had set my Garmin’s virtual running partner to run a 7:24/mile pace, figuring that would get me across the finish line at around 3:15.  I like to start slowly, but inevitably in a race I always start too fast.  This race was no exception, though I did manage to keep it close to what I hoped would be my overall pace.  Through the first two laps I weaved my way through the crowd, eventually settling into a pace that had me chasing a pack of runner that I just couldn’t seem to reel in.  In retrospect, I wondered whether keeping pace with them (around 7:20 pace) was not such a good idea.  In the end though, I doubt the chase had any effect on me eventually dropping out.

I finally did catch the group at around 8 miles, at one point taking the lead in the line and then dropping half of the group 2 miles later.

At that point I was feeling pretty strong.  Legs felt good, lungs felt good, mind was focused.  Seeing my friends Maddy and Sarah who had come out to cheer me on, every 3 miles was also a great energy boost.

Meanwhile though I would sip at my Gatorade and take a cup or two of “water” every 1.5 miles.

During a daytime race, you can see what it is you are taking in.  Water looks like water, energy drinks look like energy drinks.  Even if you aren’t looking at what you are taking in, you sure as hell are going to be able to tell the difference between water and say, Gatorade or Powerade when you put it to your lips.  At the Around the Lake Marathon/Ultramarathon they were serving water, just like any race, but they were also handing out cups of something called HEED.  I had never heard of it before and quite frankly, I hope I never, EVER drink it again.

Initially as I made my way around the lake, I would grab a cup at each of the two stations, pour it over my head, grab another cup, pour it on my face and then grab a third cup and drink it.  The problem was that this third cup was not what I thought it was.  I downed it every time thinking it was water.  It had a little bit of an odd aftertaste, maybe a little sweet, but I thought, hey! I’m in Wakefield.  Maybe their water just has a funny taste…or maybe the waxy paper cups just have a weird taste to them.  Either way, I didn’t think much of it.

I didn’t even really think about it when my evening started to rapidly unravel.

At around mile 12.5 I suddenly got hit with a massive stomach cramp.  It wasn’t the old, I’ve got a little stomach ache kind of cramp – no, it was the GET ME TO A PORTAPOTTY RIGHT NOW!!! kind of cramp.  Unfortunately for me, I was still 0.6 miles away from the portapotties.  I did the only thing I could think to do, which was pick up the pace.  As I flew into the check in station, there was a large crowd of spectators standing in front of the portapotties, blocking easy access.

“Coming through,” I yelled at the top of my lungs.  They must have sensed the urgency in my voice because they parted like the Red Sea being commanded by Moses.  I’ll spare you further details.

As I resumed the race, Maddy came up to me to ask if I was okay.  I told her that I thought 3:15 was now out of the question but that I planned on finishing and finishing strong.  She gave me some encouragement, Sarah handed me a cold water bottle and I was off for lap 5 of 8.  Somewhere around mile 15 I checked in with Jess on the phone (I love my Oakley Rockr Pros).  I told her the situation, told her I was fine and feeling like I could finish strong.

That’s when she made me promise.

At the end of May, when I ran the Run To Remember Half-Marathon, there was a runner who collapsed from pushing too hard and as a result, ended up in the hospital for several weeks with kidney failure.  That scared the crap out of me, but even more out of Jess.  With that story forever fresh in our minds (one that no runner should ignore – a post for another day), she made me promise that if I had another “bathroom” issue, I would drop out of the race.  I hesitated.  Since taking up running a few years ago, I had never dropped out of a race.  No matter how bad I felt (New York comes to mind) I fought and I finished.

I thought about the speech I had given just days before (see it HERE) where at one point I mentioned that I used an Autism Speaks pin and the thought of my baby girl to give me strength when my legs would occasionally fail me.  How could I drop out after that?  How could I possibly drop out of a race after giving that speech?  How could I let those people down?

But it occurred to me, that this was not a case of running out of energy or legs stiffening up.  This was a much more serious condition – with the very real risk of severe dehydration.  And so I promised, hoping that it wouldn’t happen again.  As I hit the next loop (number 6 if you’re counting), I briefly stopped where Maddy and Sarah were to hand them my sun-glasses.  3 laps to go, a little over 9 miles.  Time to gut it out.

Although I was moving more slowly, I was moving steadily.  My pace was even and though I wasn’t going to get the time I wanted, I sure as hell was gonna get that Finisher’s Medal.  Into the darkness I ran, and despite moving at a slower pace I was passing people – this is one of the nice things about running a marathon on a loop where there are the really crazy runners who were running the 12 and 24 hour Ultra-Marathon – by necessity, they must run at a slower pace so I got to consistently pass/lap them.  Even knowing that I was only passing ultra-marathoners, it still felt great to pass people.  I slowly tried to bring up the speed.  If I wasn’t going to get my 3:15, I was gonna take a shot at 3:20 and a possible PR.

But then it happened again.

First just a slight stabbing at around 18.  I tried to ignore it, taking a double-step and then moving on.

By 18.5 I knew my evening was done.  I stopped, doubled over.  The pain came and went, almost in waves.  I tried jogging, but that hurt.

For the next mile and a half I did a combination of speed-walking, jogging, standing, and a little mild swearing.  I hobbled across the timing mat, told the timer I was dropping out and made my way as swiftly as I could to the portapotty.  Not a great ending to the evening.

Afterward I went over to where Sarah and Maddy had been cheering me on and watched the runners continue to go by…without me.

I was disappointed, maybe even a little bitter, but the truth was, there was no sense in risking my long-term health over finishing a marathon.  If I were a threat to qualify for the Olympic Trials, maybe I just let it all go (Caroline White – look it up), but I’m just a middle of the pack runner, really only competing with one runner – me.  I also find out later that several runners had needed to drop out due to GI issues they attributed to HEED.  I’m telling you, never again.

Jess later tweeted:

@luau sometimes the greatest act of heroism is knowing when *not* to be a hero. far more proud of you for knowing when to walk away 2nite.

Although I understood that in my head immediately (and was touched by it immensely), it’s taken me almost a week to really take it to heart and truly be okay with a DNF.

There will be other races to be sure, other opportunities to get that elusive 3:15, but my biggest fear now is that I wonder, having dropped out of a race once, will it become that much easier to drop out of a race in the future when the going gets tough.

Only time will tell.

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Why do you run?

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

Tonight I am running a marathon.

No, literally, I am running the Around the Lake Marathon tonight, starting at 7PM. If you are in the Wakefield, MA area this evening, please feel free to come out and cheer.

I have never in the last 21 month of marathon running felt more unprepared.

How unprepared am I? Let’s go by the numbers:

If I had stuck with my 12 (week)/70 (mile peak)  plan, these are the weekly miles I would have run:

55/59/62/66/59/70/70/64/70/57/44/28 for a grand total of 704 miles of training.

If I had stuck with my fall back 12/55 plan, these are the weekly miles I would have run:

35/39/43/48/42/48/55/49/52/43/32/22 for a total of 508 miles.

***   ***   ***

Here are the actual miles I ran:

54/51/47/42/30/7/32/32/15/30/28/4 for the mighty sum of 372 miles.

Not pretty is it.  That’s close to only half of what I originally planned on running.  In addition, you’ll notice the downward trend in mileage over the last, well, um, during the entire training cycle.  I had some motivational issues to be sure, but there were some weeks marred by either injury or life simply getting in the way (it happens).  Still, I have never felt so unprepared for a 26.2 miles race.  Even in my first marathon I had the advantage of not knowing what it was I was getting into.

But you want to know something funny? I’m ok. In fact, I feel at peace with the fact that I am way undertrained for this race. There’s no reason really.  Maybe it’s the fact that this is my 7th marathon in 21 month, maybe it’s that I feel somewhat rested (though heavier with the lack of miles), maybe it’s that I’ve set my Garmin to beep if I start going too fast (avoiding the debacle of Boston 2011), or maybe it’s just the cumulative effect of repeated endorphin highs…I don’t know.

Am I worried? A little to be sure.  But I don’t have the nervousness I’ve had before every other marathon (who am I kidding, before every other race!!!), that awesome/awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

What will happen tonight?

I don’t know.

All I know is I’m running a marathon, I’m totally unprepared, and I’m totally fine with that.

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Why do you run?

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

“On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the guide and the weight of the world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughter will love like you do…”

-Daughters by John Mayer

Last night I had the privilege of speaking at the Greater Boston Autism Speaks Walk Kick Off Party. I have to admit that I was a little nervous, in part because anybody who had been to the Event a few years ago would remember Jess’ absolutely amazing, ovation-inducing keynote speech. I was asked how my worlds as a runner, a father and a person touched by autism interconnected. What follows is a video of my speech (thank you Jess for recording it), a transcript of the speech, and a few “thank you’s”. You can tell my public speaking skills are a little rusty (I hadn’t given a speech since my PTO President days), but I think I got my point across.

Good Evening.

Some of you may know me through my wife’s blog, A Diary of a Mom, as Luau.

I am a father of two beautiful girls, one of whom has autism.

I am also a believer that awareness is the key to understanding which in turn leads to acceptance – I firmly believe that if I can sit down with anyone and talk with them about autism and how it affects my little girl’s interactions with the world, I can erase one more disapproving face, one more thoughtless comment, one more snicker from the world – as parents, these are things we have all experienced at the playground or the grocery store or the mall.

Those “know-it-all” parents who look at you and say, “I would never let my child do that”. – They are a big part of why I do what I do.

But what is it that I do?

Well, I run.

And I write about running.

And you’re right – that should have nothing to do with autism; but as I am sure many of you know, when you have a child with autism, it becomes a part of everything you do.

When I write about running, I often find myself drawing parallels to the challenges, the trials & tribulations, and of course the victories of living with a child who has autism. As my audience has grown, so has the number of men and women who have now developed a sense of compassion for our families. I hope that as time goes by, more people like me, specifically dads who just aren’t sure how to make an impact, will find their own voice, their own way of contributing to the conversation, whether it be through running, talking to other parents while coaching Little League, or sitting around a poker table – ultimately raising awareness.

Now don’t get me wrong. Awareness, understanding and acceptance are not the goals – they are the vital first steps on the journey toward the goals. This is one of the many reasons why I work so hard to raise funds for Autism Speaks.

Autism Speaks understands that there isn’t just one solution to the challenges faced every day by people with autism and those who love them. And so while Autism Speaks works hard to raise awareness, they are also tirelessly working to unravel the mysteries of this epidemic using a reasoned, scientific approach, pushing for good, solid science to eventually answer the myriad and endless questions we have.

As men we are wired to “fix” things. As fathers we are wired to protect our children. This is our nature. But autism is neither something that can be fixed nor something we can protect our children from – instead it is messy, complicated, hard, frustrating. And so as fathers we lose faith in ourselves.

But I am here to tell you tonight, no matter how lost you may feel, no matter how overwhelmed by the process you may be, there IS a way that you can help, there IS a way that you can make an impact, not only for your child but for all of our children.

You walk. And as you talk to your friends sitting around the poker table, to the parents at the little league game, and to your co-workers about why you are walking, I bet you get to see judgement replaced by compassion and ignorance with understanding.

The first time I ran the Boston Marathon, my wife handed my an Autism Speaks pin to wear during the race. Her message was that if our little girl could fight each and every day to interact with the world around her, then dammit, I could drag my butt up Heartbreak Hill even with my legs failing me. And when they did – I put my right hand over my heart where I was wearing the pin – I made it past Heartbreak Hill and finished with a Personal Record of nearly 25 minutes.

I now wear this pin to every road race I participate in. This simple token does two things:

  1. It gives me strength when my legs start to tire.
  2. It starts a conversation and helps me pull more people into my community of understanding.

I run, I write, I talk, and I walk for Autism Speaks because to quote one of my newest heroes, Autism Speaks’ Chief Science Officer, Geri Dawson, I want “A world in which suffering because of autism no longer exists.”

Several weeks ago, I had the privilege of listening to Dr. Dawson speak about the latest scientific breakthroughs and ongoing research initiatives that are being funded by events like this. During her talk she gave me something I had been struggling to find in the preceding weeks. We were having a particularly hard time and had let our fears for our baby’s future grab hold of us. But on the night that Dr. Dawson spoke, she gave me, us, the gift of hope.

The hope that “A world in which suffering because of autism no longer exists.” is possible.

“A world in which suffering because of autism no longer exists”

That is not only Autism Speaks’ mission statement, but also mine – not just for the sake of this dad’s little girl, but for all of our loved ones who live with autism every day.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for listening. Thank you for helping to make the world a better place for my little girl.

***

I would like to thank Jess for helping me turn my crude rough draft into a polished piece; Kelley Borer for inviting me to speak (I was convinced she was asking the wrong member of our family at first); Autism Speaks for helping make the future brighter; Randy Price for continuing to be a fixture at every Kick Off event and walk; and last but certainly not least the amazing people of the Teamsters Local 25, who have raised nearly $1,000,000.00 for Autism Speaks – Sean, Trish and Tom, you are Heroes in my book.

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Yesterday morning I went out for what the training schedule called a “dress rehearsal” run – 7 miles with 2 miles at Marathon Pace.  As crappy and as sporadic as this training cycle has been, I’m not sure why I’ve continued to stick to some of the training program, but there it us.

The temperature was already into the upper 70’s and the humidity was pushing 80% – not a good combination, but I figured it was “only” 7 miles – just get it done, I told myself.

The whole time I felt like I was running through molasses. Even when I ran my 2 marathon paced miles (15 seconds per mile too fast at 7:10 per mile), I felt sluggish.  What’s scaring me just a little is the fact that 24 hours later, the sluggish feeling hasn’t left me.  My legs aren’t sore, and they aren’t tight, but I just feel like I’m dragging, like no matter what I’m doing, I’m walking, pushing my way through molasses.  My legs just feel heavy.  What’s up with that?

Is this a new version of the phantom pains I’ve felt before every marathon?  That’s what I’m hoping anyway, because come Friday, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to carry these two lead weights around a lake 8 times for 26.2 miles.

Any of you experience something similar?

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Manchester Marathon 2009 – Mile 20 – frozen quads.

Boston Marathon 2010 – Mile 20 – minor bonk.

Providence Marathon 2010 – Mile 1 – buckling knee.

New York City Marathon 2010 – Miles 5, 13, 20 and 22 – nausea and cramps.

Boston Marathon 2011 – Mile 17 – Major bonk.

The Ghosts of marathons past are rising up and swirling around me.

Knee twinge.

Back Spasm.

Foot pain.

The Phantom pains are emerging for their regular “1 week before the marathon” visit.

***

These Ghosts and Phantoms haunt me.  They sit on my shoulder and ask me questions like, “do you really want to run this marathon?”, “why are you going to put yourself through this?”, “are you ready for all of that pain?”, “are you ready to fail?”

These ghosts and phantoms are always there, but their voices get louder every time I am in the closing days of marathon training.  It doesn’t help that this training cycle has been a complete wash.  Most of the time their voices can be ignored, in part because during training, there is nothing “official” at stake.  But with one week to go these ghosts, these phantoms will not be ignored.  Every time I see another runner out there training, or I walk by my training log, or I see the current temperature outside, they make their noise.

But there are other ghosts…

***

Manchester Marathon 2009 – Mile 26.2 – 1st marathon!

Boston Marathon 2010 – Mile 26.2 – 1st Boston – PR!

Providence Marathon 2010 – Mile 26.2 – PR!

Smuttynose Marathon 2010 – All of it!  – PR & BQ!!!

New York City Marathon 2010 – Mile 26.2 – finishing despite the pain.

Boston Marathon 2011 – Miles 20 – 26.2 – drinking beer and chatting with friends as I jogged to the finish.

These are also ghosts and not all ghosts need to be scary.  Just like Glinda proved that not all witches are ugly or evil, these ghosts also shout out as next Friday night get closer and closer.  These are the ghosts I will choose to listen to.  Like I said, the training cycle for this upcoming marathon has been almost non-existent.  Who knows what kind of mojo I will bring to Wakefield.  If temperatures are what they are today, I will simply change my goals for race day, but as for now, I will continue to strive for 3:15 and hope the good ghosts of marathons past will help carry me to the finish.

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This past weekend the family and I drove to Western Massachusetts; the week before we drove to Maine for a weekend of hanging with the Bushes in Kennebunkport (okay, so maybe we didn’t actually hang with the Bushes); two weeks before that Jess & I drove to White Plains, NY and back in one day – now quick, if a vehicle is traveling at 65 miles per hour and is 20 miles from their exit, how long will it take for them to arrive at said exit?  OR  if they are traveling at 71 miles per hour and are 31 miles from their destination, approximately how long until they arrive?

What do traveling on the highway and a flashback to primary school math word problems have to do with running?

***

I have written extensively about the benefits of running – weight loss, lower blood pressure, healthier heart, increased energy, an awesome community, runner’s high, just to name a few.  Well, it’s time to add one more entry.  Quite honestly, I only realized this a couple of weeks ago, but I know I have been experiencing it for quite some time now.  Over the last couple of years I discovered that long road trips had become easier. It wasn’t because the kids were getting older.  It wasn’t because Jess would stay awake to keep me company (she doesn’t – she’s like a baby – you start driving and within short order she is sound asleep).  It wasn’t because I finally found a good travel coffee mug (though I do find it indispensible!).

No, it wasn’t for any of the reasons above.  You wanna know why long road trips, specifically the driving, became easier?

Because I run.

That’s right, running and marathon training have helped my endurance in that family duty that can make any man question his sanity – the family road trip.

How you may ask?

Well, you may recall that in almost every marathon I have run there has come a point when I started doing math in my head.  It’s not random math mind you, but math with a purpose.  During the last third of just about any race I will constantly be calculating and re-calculating how fast I need to go to achieve the overall time I am trying to hit – the end of my Boston Qualifying run at Smuttynose was spent rolling the numbers over and over again, making sure I crossed that finish line in 3:20 or better.  Boston 2011 was spent watching my attempt at 3:10 and then 3:15 slip away like sand through an hour glass.  Maybe I do it to distract me from the pain at the time, maybe I do it simply to stay engaged, but whatever the reason, my endurance is tied to doing mathematical mental gymnastics throughout a race.

So how does this tie into driving? Quite nicely actually.

By simply adding a factor of 10, I get almost a straight correlation between my running and my driving.  If I am on a twisting back road where I know I will average about 30 – 40 miles per hour, I know that I will cover 10 miles in 15 – 20 minutes (a brisk walk).  Likewise, if I’m on the highway, I know that 60 miles per hours yields a 10 minute/10 mile pace (a slow jog); 65 mph? 9:13; 70 mph? 8:34 (both fall into the long, slow distance category); 75 mph? 8:00; and if I’m lucky enough to be in a flow of traffic that is moving at 80 mph? That 10 mile pace drops all the way to 7:30 (marathon pace, baby!).  All of the studying of the pace charts I did before every marathon has paid off in making the long drives of the family road just a little easier to deal with.

Anything shorter than 260 miles now seems easy.  And once I get within 60 miles of our destination? Forget about it! It’s like running a 10K – done before you know it!

So the next time you go on a lengthy road trip, bring your water bottle, stash a couple of GU’s in your pocket and make sure you’re wearing the proper attire – oh, and don’t forget to stretch!

Oh, and the answers to the above word problems were 18:27 and 26:06.

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