Every Damn Day: Part Two

This past week was far from a stellar week of running. It seemed like for most of the week, each step took more and more effort. Nothing really ached or hurt. I was not unmotivated. I even got plenty of rest. But I had no energy. No zip in the legs. Then, to add insult to injury, Friday started with a headache and ended with a sore throat! Saturday was no better. Yet, in spite of it all, I managed to drag by old gray butt out the door and run.

I'm not sure if this means I am really committed to the goals I set forth for myself this year as an athlete or that I am a few french fries short of a Happy Meal. Friday, in the pouring rain, I laced up and ran 3 miles. Or should I say I slogged away at 3 miles just so there would not be a big fat goose-egg in the ol training log. Pounding head, burning throat, and rain soaked chilled to the bone I dragged myself around town when I could have been in a nice NyQuil induced stupor, gazing at the rain falling through the window instead of it showering my feverish body. Yup, I'm a few french fries short.

But alas, a new week awaits. Here is hoping the upcoming days bring forth a better week of running. However, as I look back over the past week, even though it sucked, I still ran. I still remembered that thing that makes me feel alive. I still, even for a few brief moments, followed my passion and chased my dream. It was slow and painful, but still I was, I am and I will be, a runner.

Here is hoping that you stay healthy this week and keep running!

Barely Streaking By

It has been one of those weeks. You know, the kind where each and every morning you wish you could call in sick and just crawl back under the covers until noon. When every student ask you a question and you just want to glare at them and ask sarcastically in your best Clint Eastwood, "Do you feel lucky punk? Well, do you?" Even though the poor sap only wanted clarification on the directions for an assignment. It was a week where I felt I was nothing more than a crazy San Francisco taxi cab driver, darting from one corner of the city to another at breakneck speed, flying over every bump in the road. It was if the whole world suddenly found the fast forward button on the remote and decided that I needed to move about like a squirrel hopped up on Red Bull and Lattes, trying to catch my tail as I spin aimlessly in wild gyrations. Life and work is crashing in all around me. My sanctuary. My peace of mind. My alone time on the trails, track and roads cut to the bare minimum. It has not been a stellar week of running. But, the streak lives on.

So with the hope of a better tomorrow, I will sleep well knowing, that even for just a brief slice of time, I still did that thing that God created me to do; move. I still managed somehow to lace up the Nikes and breathed deep the frozen air as my oxygen rich blood coursed through the old capillaries. Even for a few short miles, I felt the pleasure of being fully alive and remembered that each day, whether a lion or gazelle, hunter or prey, I run.

As always, stay healthy and keep running!

Fans

I get a chuckle out of every time I hear a young athlete use a phrase like, "I don't want to let my fans down" or "I need to put on a show for my fans." Really? Seriously? This is just a local-yocal running event. Fans are people who take off their shirts in -32 degrees, drink copious amounts of cheap beer, yell obscenities at referees, paint their hairy bellies with war paint and don viking horns or fake foam cheese! I have yet to experience a group of people strip off their clothing, wear large foam Nikes on the top of their head, all the while chugging away from a red plastic cup filled with liquid amber gold as I fly buy blowing snot rockets. Now I am not saying that there are not running fans out there, mainly because I consider myself to be a fan of the sport. However, I'm not really a fan of anyone athlete, club or event. Just more of a fan in general. Quite honestly, I don't think anyone really cares if I win or lose a race. And furthermore, I don't really care when some athlete that I admire wins or loses a race. That's the nature of athletics, you win some, you lose some.

This sport is not really about fans. Unlike arena sports like football, baseball, basketball, etc... this sport is about participation and friendship. I have had that great experience of having people cheer for me in the midst of heated competition. There is nothing like it. But in all honesty, when people cheer, it is just white noise. I am so focused on the task at hand I can only decipher one voice, the voice of my coach and or a trusted teammate. One of the things I miss from college is how we used to line up on the back stretch of the track in lane 3 with the distance runners from other schools and cheer on our teammates. Yelling, screaming, taking good natured jabs at the other runners and then all going for a cool down jog together, reliving the last 4, 9, 15 or 30 minutes of racing. We were not fans. We were friends participating in the event together. And that is what makes this sport so darn great. We don't have fans, we have friends.

After all, I would be a little creeped out if some dude, whipped off his shirt, had his buddha belly painted red with my 5k pr, wearing a jock strap on his head yelling at me to pick up the pace, the other runners are gaining on you! So, when I do hear people cheer for me in my local 5k fun run, I know that they are not fans, but my friends. People I personally know, just wishing me the best and likewise, when I cheer for them, win or lose, just wishing them the best. And I get to keep my shirt on! (It is a little hard to paint war paint on an emaciated chest.)

Time to lace up and head out the door for day 117 of the streak! As always, stay healthy, keep running and if I hear you cheering or you hear me cheering for you, we are not fans, we are friends!

Crapping Out My Intestines

I have a saying that I use with my athletes when we have a hard work-out, I say, "Boys, you know you've had a great work-out when you go home and crap out your intestines!" Today I must have had a great work-out running 16 X 400 meter repeats. With a quick dash home from the track, flying through the back door grabbing both Running Times and Track and Field News, this is going to take awhile, not only did I crap out my intestines, I'm sure I felt my spleen and left kidney slip on out as well. By the time it was all said and done, I am sure I was responsible for half of the Brazilian Rain Forrest being chopped down, a new hole in the ozone layer and caused all those who own stock in Charmin to be filthy rich! Talk about your porcelain rodeo! Whooo doggy, I'm not sure which worked over my old body the most, the track or the aftermath? One thing for certain, it wasn't pretty.

Work-outs like today's always fascinate me in how I respond to the distress caused from pushing your body. Although I was running at much slower pace than decades ago, the same effort was put forth as when I was 24 and I found myself being transformed into this Jekyll and Hyde character that only shows up in long, grueling efforts. Today's work-out called for a short 200 meter jog between each 400 repeat, which is not a very long time to regroup yourself, so it forces you to learn to be very economic in your running form and learn to relax during the hard efforts, but once you hit the 200 jog, it is like a drowning man getting is first taste of oxygen rich air as he spews deathly salt laced fluid from his depths. The funny thing is, the 400's are the easiest part on me mentally in the midst of the undertaking. Dr. Jekyll calmly whispers, relax, lift your knees, control, control, you've done this a million times, almost there, relax, there you go." But then on the recovery Mr. Hyde is waiting.

I have never figured out where this sinister alter ego comes from and he never shows up until about a third of the way into the work-out when the body is starting to feel the stress. But without fail, he raises his ugly head and the self-loathing begins. When working out with a group, Mr. Hyde stays just within my head, but when I go at by myself...Without fail, I begin to speak out loud, "Come on b#$*@. You think that hurts, wait until the next one. Come on you dirty filthy b#$*@." Where did this jerk come from and why am I calling myself a female dog? And why am I saying it out loud? Am I going nuts? And for 200 meters the voice of pain and doubt taunts me to give in and give up and then the mental games begin. One more I tell myself, I can gut out one more. Dr. Jekyll reappears and guides me forward, then Mr. Hyde with his evil deeds, mental games, and repeat. No wonder my stomach is turned into a slushy mess.

And so home I go after the task and flush Jekyll and Hyde down the sewer, along with a few feet of my entrails and await until we meet again next week. As always, stay healthy, keep running, and a financial tip, buy stock in toilet paper!

One More Trip Around the Sun

This past week I made my 44th trip around the sun and lo and behold, once more I am asking myself, "where the hell did the time go?!!!" Seriously though, as my body continues to move at a slower pace, time seems to have grown wings and is flying along. It seems like only yesterday I was 43 and here I am 44. Time to purchase some Grecian Formula and Metamucil. Actually adding another digit to the chronological chain is not too bad or alarming. As I look back over the past year, I have been blessed to have once again to have completed another trip around the great track of life and it was filled with some great moments. So here are my top three running life moments of the past year.

Number 3: Completing not once, but twice a streak of 100 days of straight running. The first ended in March at 105 days and my current streak reached 100 days on February 6 and is currently at 112 days and counting. During the current streak I have lost 16-17 pounds, have established a regular training routine that includes a long run, interval training and racing. It is by far the most consistent I have been with my running in over ten years. Now lets see if I can turn all of this running into some new masters personal records.

Number 2: Rocky Hill Long Runs on Saturday mornings. When I think back over the past 30 years of running, I am always drawn back to this one location as the place where my competitive fires were tempered and fortified as my body learned to deal with the demands of task that I chose to pursue. Now as a seasoned veteran of many more miles than I could ever imagine that my body would ever cover, I return each week to pay homage to all the dreams that were birthed, came to pass and died on both freezing cold winter mornings and scorching summer nights engulfed in the citrus aroma that penetrates the senses in the midst of a shower of sweat. Plus, it was on the backside of this central San Joaquin Valley running landmark that the legend of the Albino Kenyan was born.

Number 1: Running at Lake Hodges with my Sonoma State teammate and friend, Phil. Without a doubt, this was the best experience of this past year in my running life. For a few short days in December, I got to experience that feeling of being 21 again as we ran, laughed, and joked as if we were still kids in college. I have been blessed to have known many people over the past 30 years of running, but very few come close to being as such a good teammate and better yet, a great friend than Phil. So Phil, thanks for a great two days of running and taking this old runner down memory lane and reminding me why I love this sport!

So here I go again. Time to begin another year of lacing up the Nikes and heading out to the roads, trails, track and canals to put one foot in front of the other in my favorite fashion, fast. As always, stay healthy, keep running and I hope your running life year is as blessed as my past year was.

PUSH!

Now anytime I hear the word push, I automatically have three flashbacks to the days that my three children made their entrance out into the world. As any of you who have been through the birthing process know, when you take you LaMas classes, the guy's job, while his wife tries to rip his head off his shoulders while pushing out a watermelon from her, well, you know, is to calmly, passionately, lovingly tell his wife to "push." I always wondered where they came up with this little tidbit of wisdom? Is there some recorded incident where a woman just stopped in the middle of labor, packed up her belongings and said, "I've changed my mind. I keeping the little booger inside." Seriously, does a woman really need to be told by the man, to push?!! I've seen that experience up close and personal and I really don't think my wife needed me to whisper softly to her, "okay sweetie, it is time, now push." Sheesh, no wonder she tried to detach my cranium from my shoulders!

As an athlete though, we do need to "push" ourselves in order to be the best we can possibly be. But honestly, there are days that I just don't feel like pushing. There are days where an extra cup of coffee and a big fat doughnut sound like heaven! There are some days that I have to consciously remind myself that I need to "push" myself out the door and in the words of Nike, just do it. But what does it mean to "push" yourself?

Yesterday a high school teammate and friend, Mike sent me the following advice. He mentioned that he came up with an acronym to remind him of why he "pushes" himself to succeed and it is simply PUSH.
P: Pride, take pride in what you have accomplished and what you do.
U: Understand,understand what you are trying to accomplish and why it makes you a better person.
S: Self Worth, know that what you do reflects who you are and how you think of yourself.
H: Honor, try to live your life with honor and dignity.

Being an athlete is not just about being good at an activity. Being an athlete is about being a good, decent human being. It is about Pride, Understanding, Self-Worth, and Honor. So as I head out the door, I am going to remember to "push" myself and savor each step of the way.

Stay healthy, keep running and remember to PUSH your self today.

Bagging It

On Tuesday morning as I stepped out the door to run, I was feeling, well, rather droopy. The legs ached, the eyes blurred, and whatever I ate the night before really did not like all the bouncing around in my innards, as I tried to get the ol' gray horse moving. As a rule of thumb, I try not to make any decisions about my runs until about 2 miles into it. Sometimes I start out feeling like I'm on a death march, only to find myself gliding along effortlessly, humming a tune in my head, and occasionally out loud, enjoying the moment. Other times, I start out feeling great, only to find myself cursing the very thought of one more step as I trudge along, just wishing someone would drive by, throw a brick at me and knock some good sense into my thick skull. But, on occasions, there are days like Tuesday...

From step one I could tell that the morning run was not going to be a good one. Even when I passed the "sexy middle aged" female runners group, I could not pull off a studly prancing stride. I simply grunted a barely audible grumpy old man "good morning" whispering under my breath, "not that there is much good about it!" As I hobbled along by them. Ugggh! All I could think about was that the coffee was brewing and my wife was at home in our nice, soft, warm bed while I am out here with my steamy hot bad breath (unfortunately I forgot to brush my teeth before the run) shooting up my nostrils, my forehead dripping in a pool of saline solution, and hoping that each time my stomach roared, well, lets just say, I was sure hoping my shorts were gonna stay dry! But as I have stated, I have a two mile rule...

Unfortunately, this morning I had decided to take a loop route and by the time I reached two miles I was feeling even more miserable! To make matters worse, the shortest distance back home was exactly two miles. The plan had been to run 8-10 miles, but I decided to bag the morning run and send the horse to the glue factory. Finally, I dragged my achy butt on home, poured a cup of coffee, I would have crawled back into bed, but my wife has this thing where if I am sweaty, I am not to get near her or back in the bed, sheeesh, and called it a running day. All before the sun peeked its little rays of sunshine over the Sierras to wake up the rest of civilization.

One of the lessons that I am learning as an aging athlete, in which momma never said there would be days like this, is that some days, the poor old body just can't muster up the energy and strength for the task, or at least for the task to be easy or enjoyable. I still managed to log day 102 and I did feel better on day 103, but as I head out the door here in a few minutes, I wonder...

Marathon Man

www.npr.org/2011/02/08/133600374/Marathon-Man-Completes-Yearlong-Quest

As my wife was driving home from work yesterday, she was listening to NPR and heard the following story about 49-year-old Stefaan Engels of Belgium completed his 365th marathon, in 365 consecutive days. Now that I have completed 100 straight days, my feat seems pretty darn small in comparison! But, like Stefaan, I want to inspire people I know in my community to live active healthy lives. So today, enjoy this brief interview from the NPR link above and hopefully I will see you out on the roads, trails, canals, or track!

By the way, if I could get a couple of companies to sponsor me for one year, I would attempt the same feat! Hmmmmm, maybe something to add to the bucket list. Stay healthy and keep running.

Every Damn Day

It only seems like a few days ago that I started my current streak of 100, but in a few minutes I will head out the door and make it officially 100 straight days of putting one foot in front of the other in my favorite fashion, fast. This time around, compared to the last streak of 100 that I did last year, I have been able to run at a much higher level. Over the past couple of months I have been able to increase my weekly mileage load, add weekly long runs, incorporate fartleks, a track session and run in a couple of races. Even though I still have a long journey ahead of me between now and July as I prepare for the World Masters Track and Field Championships, this past 100 days has been an awesome ride!

To celebrate my 100th day of running, yesterday, after running day 99, I decided to stop by the local Nike Outlet and purchase a little memento for the occasion. As I perused the bustling aisles, my eye was struck by a stack of t-shirts of varying shades of hue and lo' and behold, there it was, the perfect piece of swag to celebrate. Fumbling through a stack of gray, (Why gray? Why not red, blue, orange? Have you seen what old guy sweat does to shirts of real color?) I found one of my size. Eureka! And there it was in large bold print, for everyone who will see me huffing and puffing on the trail, they will know that I run "Every Damn Day!"

The funny thing is, there was another t-shirt that I liked much better, but I figured I am too far past my prime for it. Again, in large bold print it read, "Kicking Your A#% One Step at a Time!" I loved it! If I was 23 instead of 43, I would have bought it. In fact I had it in hand, as it was buy 2 for $20, but as the old saying goes, act your age not your shoe size, I put it back on the rack. Since my shoe size is 13, the last thing I want is people thinking I behave like a little pubescent, hormonal, awkward man-child. Besides, I haven't kicked anyone's arse for over 10 years and I am learning how to take an arse-whooping with my dignity still in place. It is a humbling experience being an older athlete. After all, that is the point, I am an older athlete. More importantly, I am an athlete "every damn day." I still enjoy being active, healthy, and seeing what my body is capable of doing.

As I lace up, head out the door and savor every stride of day 100, I hope you have found a way to still be an athlete "every damn day" and are enjoying this crazy journey called life to its fullest. Stay healthy, keep running, and hopefully I will see you on the roads, trails and at the races.

Playing Track

After watching this video it reminded me of all the times I would be in the middle of an extremely hard work-out and my teammate Chip and I would start playing track. Having grown up in the Golden Age of the European track seasons of the late 70's and early 80's I got to witness some remarkable Dream Mile races. When the distress would set in and we would reach a point where we thought it might be unbearable as the lactic acid monkey jumped on our backs, one of us would muster the strength to break out in our best pseudo British accent and begin to announce our work-out as the Dream Mile.

There are so many miles that mind drifted to some exotic European track where I was representing the good ol' USA, like Steve Scott, leaving the likes of Coe, Ovett, and Cram in the wake of my dust. For some strange reason, by allowing our minds to drift off into the fantasy of being world class mile runners we could somehow manage the extremes of training and when we finished, with contorted bodies bent over and grasping our knees, sucking in every last ounce of oxygen our exhausted lungs could handle, we managed to let out a full bodied chuckle at our exploits defeating the world's best. Those were good times. Good times.

So Chip, this video is for you and all the adventures we had dreaming of being the best the world had ever seen.

Sexy

Before I get too far into today's musings, I just need to say that I think that my wife is the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I find her just as stunning and sexy today as I did the first time she grabbed my attention by trying to attract me by taking up running. I can still see her coming out of her dorm room in her split red running shorts, blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail and just flat out looking hot. Sooooo, sweetie, don't take part of today's blog wrong, I still only have eyes for you.

So I was out running in the fog again yesterday morning at the ungodly hour of 5:00 am when a few miles into my run I see the silhouette of five figures moving somewhat quickly towards me. It is already creepy running in the fog and dark, but this, this really got my heart pumping. Scanning the area for an escape route if these ghostly figures prove to be dangerous, I began to plot my defense plan. Would I lead them on a wild chase? Should I squeal like a little girl? Or maybe, I should pretend that I am the white Mr. Miyogi and go Karate Kid on them? I had a feeling that if these fast approaching beings proved unfriendly it would be a combination of the first two, running away screaming! But in the next few moments I realized that these strangers in the early morning mist were not foul creatures looking for trouble.

Like any red-white and blue blooded man, I just experienced one of the sexiest things in my life. Five middle aged, fit, tight wearing (without bulges) women, between 30-40 years old went running past me! Now, now I was wishing they would mug me! Pure sexiness. Sweat dripping from their foreheads, heavy rhythmic breathing, and me telling myself over and over, "I'm a married runner, I'm a married runner." And in a flash, they disappeared into the morning fog.

Now I am thinking, I wonder if middle aged running chicas find me sexy? There is a certain amount of vanity that comes along with being an athlete, especially runners. Seriously, I'm afraid that my running tights make my butt look too big. When someone is approaching me on a run, I always make sure that I straighten up, wipe the slobber from my chin and try to look as effortless as possible in my stride while picking up the pace. I even brush my teeth and comb what little is left of my hair. And I must admit, although, I don't buy matching running gear, I try to color coordinate what I am running in. If I can't run fast anymore, I should at least look good! I mean, heck, I want middle aged women to be jealous of my wife and think, "I wish my husband still looked like that!" Or, "mmmmmm, look at that butt" as I gallop by, smiling and waving with my one eyebrow raised in mischief.

Well, it is time to lace up and head out the door! I'm not too sure if I am still sexy or if even I once was, but don the tights I will this morning, hoping my butt is not too big and pound out some miles. As always, stay healthy, keep running and for all you hot middle aged running babes out there, just to let you know, I am not available, I am a very, very happily married man, but you can enjoy the window shopping!