What a Year! Part Two

As I continue to count down my five favorite running memories of 2012, I first want to thank all of my friends and family who read this rant of a runner and I appreciate your kind words you have shared with me over the past couple of years. Running is such a core part of my personality and life and like all good things that God gives you, you just want to share it with others. So without further adieu, on to number three and two. Number 3: Alberto! Eugene is always an awesome experience every time I travel north to the land of Bowerman, Pre, and Nike. Growing up in the 80's one of my running heroes was and is, Alberto Salazar. The man ran with guts, grit and fire. I have never witnessed a runner so lost in the pursuit of victory that all pain, discomfort, and obstacles just melt away under each stride. His famous duel in the sun with Dick Beardsley, the epic battle with Henry Rono in the rain, and his unexpected victory at Comrades are the stuff of legends. The man, simply put, is a running god. But, in order to understand the significance of memory number 3, we must first travel back in time to June 1990. My coach, Danny Aldridge, was a former teammate of Alberto's on the famed Nike Athletics West track club and had managed to not only get himself in the prestigious Prefontaine Classic Track Meet, but also a young, blue-eyed, red-headed gangly kid, falling in love with the sport. Me. To make a long story short, it was a 10,000 meter track race set up for Alberto to make another comeback attempt, I got dead last, lapped twice, all the while enjoying every step of the way as the crowd clapped and cheered, the rain fell softly and crossing the line with a 2 second pr. However, one does not meet their hero everyday, so after the race, I walked up to Alberto and asked for his autograph in my meet program. Here is where it gets cool; Alberto looks up at me and asks, "Why do you want my autograph? You were in the race too!" Holy crap! Alberto just validated me as a runner. I was never the same runner from that moment on. Fast forward to June 2012. I am out running on Pre's trail at the Olympic Trials with my assistant coach Lino, when I notice a figure striding along towards us. With his familiar pigeon toed, slightly hunched over form, Alberto ran by. Thumping Lino in the chest, exclaiming, "Do you know who that was?!" I took two or three more strides, stopped, thought for a moment, turned in my tracks and chased down Alberto. Upon catching him and assuring him I was not some deranged character let loose from the nuthouse, I told him about our encounter in 1990 and then I did what I have been wanting to do for the last 22 years, I got to thank my hero for his kind words. We chatted for a few minutes, shook hands, and as we continued on with our runs, he left me with this, "You never know what affect your kind words to a stranger might have on them." Alberto, your kind words did more than just inspire me to work hard to become the best runner I could be when I was young, but you continue to inspire me, to be the best runner, coach, and person that I can be as the slowing process kicks in the old legs. Thank You Alberto! Number 2: Hayward Magic. I have had the privilege of racing several times on the most magical track in America, Hayward Field. There is something mystical and inspirational about stepping on the track in Eugene. It is as if the ghosts of all the distance legends of the past rise from their sleepy graves and stride along beside you. You are surrounded by history, the creaking of the East Grandstand, the fans who understand the nuances of sport, and a sense that anything is possible. That is why when I read about an all comers track meet during the break in action at the Olympic Trials, I knew I had to bring my racing gear. Since my heart attack, I have been focusing on a new set of personal records that I call post heart attack pr's, aka phaprs! Since I have ran a pr every time I have raced at Hayward Field, including my 2 second pr in the race with Alberto and a 5000 meter NCAA DII qualifier in 1992, I knew that it would not be a successful trip if I did not get a pr in my race. It has been several years, nearly 20, since I had last raced a mile and now seemed like the best time to race one, especially since I was guaranteed a phapr. But, there is magic in the air in Eugene and my feet came alive as I stepped out onto that track, transporting back in time, well, at least in my mind, and the balding, greying, slowing old man was replaced by a bright eyed, jubilant kid striding up and down the backstretch getting ready to take on the world. The brilliant flashes of bright colored spikes, racing flats and singlets zipped by on each stride out. My heart thumped with excitement, butterflies danced in the pit of my gut, and a fire was rising from deep within...I didn't just want a phapr, I wanted a master's pr! Of course I did not want to put a damper on anyone's Olympic Trials experience by having to administer CPR to me from pushing too hard by disobeying my Cardiologist, so I carefully plotted my lap splits and when the gun went off, I went to work. For four illustrious laps, I circled Hayward Field, calmly hitting my planned splits. Meticulously I sliced through the dying stragglers before me and with one last solid push, I managed to run negative splits resulting in a seven-second masters pr in the mile! The magic of Hayward Field hung heavy around me as I melted from the past into the present and realized what I have known since the first time I stepped on a track my freshman year in high school; man, I love this sport! Until the revealing of my favorite running memory of 2012, stay healthy and keep running...oh, if you get a chance to meet and talk to your running hero, make sure to tell them thank you for their inspiration!

What a Year!

Ok, so 2012 is just about to wrap up and be another entry in the old running log, but...As I look back over this past year, it was truly an amazing year in my running life. Ever since my heart attack in November of 2011, I have been trying to rebound and rebuild my running life, however, I was completely caught off guard by the rebirth that occurred during the process of recovering from this life altering experience. I have been blessed with so many friends and memories that make each step of the journey worthwhile and I wouldn't want to be any other kind of athlete than an aging, long-striding runner. So as we close out another trip around the sun here is a look back at my Top 5 experiences in the running life of 2012. Number 5: The Tule Fog Run 5K. When I was lying in the hospital bed during my extended vacation from life, I made myself a promise that I was not going to let a heart attack rob me of what I enjoy most in life, including my beautifully warped obsession of putting one foot in front of the other as fast as I can. One of the first questions I asked my cardiologist was, would I be able to run again? Of course I got the usual, "Well, each person recovers different from the other and you need to just listen to your body and be smart." At which my body was screaming, my demons need to get out and run wild doc! So, I took his advice, took it easy, ran slow, strapped on a heart rate monitor, took my meds, and started putting one foot in front of the other for a few miles each day starting on Christmas morning. However, I needed a starting point. A point of reference that said, from this day forward I am a new runner! So I registered for a local 5K a few weeks later in mid-January, toed the line, stayed in the mid-pack, ran the slowest, yet at the same time, most satisfactory 5K of my life. And, to show that God has a great sense of humor, I won my age division! I never thought in my wildest running dreams that I would be so ecstatic over a 22:30 PW (personal worst), but ecstatic I was and overjoyed with the sheer joy of just being out with "my kind of people" on a cold, wet, winter's day. There was only one direction left for me to go...up! Number 4: My Bux Peeps! One of the things I have discovered since turning 40 a few years back is that I need to play with kids my own age. Most of my running injuries over the past five years have come from when I was out running with my high school athletes that I coach. Kids these days just will not slow down for their elders and when the ugly head of pride rises to the challenge...another six weeks of ice, tylenol, and chocolate. Not only did I sign up for the Tule Fog Run when I got out of the hospital, I also immediately joined our local running club, The Visalia Runners. Of course it was an easy sell, they have a group that meets in the morning at the various Starbucks and after all, there is no better recovery drink than a Grande Dark Roast with Room! Turns out, this was the best decision I have made in years. Even though I have to rise at the ungodly hour of 3:30am a couple of times per week in order to make it to the 4:30 start time, it is well worth plucking the extra large chunks from my eyes way before the break of dawn in order to log a few miles, sip some steamy brew, and share a few laughs. Running is both solitary and communal. There are days when I need to just be with myself out on the trails, roads or canals, but most days the task of covering 8 to 12 miles can be a daunting endeavor that makes me want to run to the sheets and cuddle up with my wife. It is so much easier to slide out from under the covers, slip on the tights, grab the gloves, lace up, kiss my wife and head out the door knowing that my new colorful cast of friends await. There is something to be said about the shared experience of lunacy! Here we are, all grown, professional people, up before the rooster, running amuck on the streets of Visalia, scantily clad in a colorful array of bright colored shoes, shorts, and tights, cackling and laughing the whole way, all the while, the rest of our sleepy community slumbers as we glide down the streets at breakneck speeds. Then we ascend upon the other early risers drinking copious amounts of rich dark heaven, as if we really need a stimulant to get us going, swapping glorious tales. Ahhhh man, it is so much fun! So to all my Bux Peeps, which are way too many to name, but you know who you are, a huge heartfelt thank you for making this one of the best years in all of my thirty-one years of the running life. Until tomorrow when I will share moments 3 and 2, stay healthy and keep running!

Colorful Characters

One of the things I love most about being a runner is my "colorful" friends! Each week I meet with several great individuals who make the running life that much more, shall I say colorful. Each person has their own unique personality, story, and reason for why they have joined the running life family. From my shaggy haired freshman runner Will who took up the sport to get in shape for soccer to Dan, a special Ed teacher who served in Vietnam when he was not too much older than Will. For many years I preferred the solitary nature of the sport, often logging thousands of miles with just the company of my own thoughts and whatever song nature decided to provide that day. Even though I still love an occasional solitary romp in the early morning, I really look forward to the camaraderie of running with a group. As interesting as I find myself to be, I have to admit, other people are much more entertaining and make the miles fly by. From small talk to jokes to political discourse, running with my running buddies is what gets me out of the bed at 4:00am in order to get in a workout before sun up. By nature, I am an afternoon runner and enjoy the sun baking my shoulders while barking orders to my athletes, but as I have aged, I need to play with kids my own age. Unfortunately, most adults don't get off work at 3:00pm and the duties of adulthood do require the majority to attend to other "adult" responsibilities outside of the work hours. Hence, in order for us to still run around scantily clothed and enjoy the silliness of high spirited hi jinx, we must rise while the rest of the adult world sleeps and slip on our youthful spirits and run wild. It is during these early morning romps that the inhibitions of adulthood are thrown to the wind the colorful personalities break free and the fun begins. As I have spent the last couple of days shackled by my adult responsibilities, I look forward to my run tomorrow morning when I will cut loose with my colorful friends and will run wild in the streets before my work colleagues awake, drink their coffee and wonder why I saunter in with a whistle, smile, and a twinkle in my eye. As always, stay healthy and keep running.

Group Pursuit

It has been a long time coming for American distance running fans and we finally got what we have been hoping for, a medal at 10,000 meters at the Olympics. Galen Rupp delivered a well executed race plan and along with his training partner and Gold medalist, Mo Farah, showed the world what can happen when two or more guys train day in and day out together with a single purpose can do. And, not to mention that their other training partner, Dathan Ritzenheim, finished a respectable 13th only 15 seconds behind them. Who needs that Kenya dry-fit shirt I was bummed out about not getting before they sold out. I'm sporting my USA! It was quite a race. Although my new training partners and I will not be taking any trips to Rio in four years to try our hand at bringing home some serious bling, we do challenge each other to new heights and personal goals every week. When I started back running after my heart attack, I was afraid to run by myself. When the doc says to carry a phone and uses the term "drop dead" you tend to hang on his every word as if spoken from God himself. I hate carrying a phone when I run, but dropping dead did not sound like it would help my 5k time. But I didn't like the thought of just me and my phone at 5:00am on the deserted streets of my little hometown, so I joined the local running club, The Visalia Runners! Now, I have never been a big club runner. I tend to keep a small circle of friends and even smaller circle of people I like to run and race with. It is not that I am anti-social, it is just the opposite. I love being around other runners, but when something is very personal to you, such as your running goals, you tend to want to be around like-minded individuals who are going to support you in your pursuit. My pursuit is not to finish, my pursuit is to be as fast as I can be. My pursuit is to run faster than you. Likewise, I know my inner-circle of running friends want to run faster than me. We are okay with that. It is the nature of a racer. You need me to run fast and I need you to run fast. It is just how it works. Which is why I enjoy my new club. My new training partners challenge me each time I run with them. Maybe not always to run fast, but to run smart. We work together to make each other better by sharing our racing experiences, what we have read, who we have talked to, and our own take on the sport. There is a mutual respect for each other's running gifts and experiences. Somehow rising before the rooster, lacing up and hammering out an 8 mile fartlek before the sun peaks over the mountains just makes sense with these guys and gals. A saturday without a long run of 12 miles, coffee and a refill before starting the weekend chores just throws everything out of sync. What is Friday without the casual banter of the wily veterans sharing tales of miles gone bye? Laughs, good stories, and fast times, along with coffee, make this one fun group of runners to hang around. Each brings their own pursuit of excellence and that is what really makes this club special. Excellence is defined not by the clock, but by what drives you to rise out of bed, lace up, and put one Nike in front of the other. For some, it is running their first marathon. For others, it is qualifying for Boston. And for some, like me, it is about clicking off a few seconds from your last race. But, we are all pursuing excellence. So to my new training partners, especially Mike, Yvonne, Maria, Albert and Michelle, thanks for keeping me company and helping me in my quest of fast times! You have all made me a better runner and I hope I have returned the favor. And who knows, maybe we will have our own Mo/Galen moment someday... As always, stay healthy, keep running and get out there and find a great group of runners to share the pursuit with!

Last of the Cossacks!

This year so far has been one of the best running years I have had in a long, long time and definitely the best since becoming a masters runner. The funny thing is that it comes on the heels of having a heart attack and making some major life changes in the wake of that event. It truly goes to show what doesn't kill you really does make you stronger. Now I am not a politically correct person. I personally feel the whole political correctness approach to life is a crock of... Seriously, my students and athletes know that I care for them because I genuinely care, not because I took some stupid 3 Steps to Caring Communication Seminar. I am sensitive to others because I was taught right from wrong by my parents, teachers, and coaches who didn't give a rip about my self esteem or feelings but rather or not I was a good person who made good choices. They didn't care if I was offended. If a made a poor choice, it wasn't because I was misunderstood, it was rather I misunderstood and paid the consequences for my decision. So what does my rant against political correctness have to do with running? Glad you asked. The highlight of the year so far was my second race of the year back in February when I traveled up to Santa Rosa, Ca to run in a little race called the Valley Ford Relays. It is important to note that the Valley Ford Relays is a Sonoma County running classic. Teams of four run a back and forth relay in a little town, Valley Ford, for the glory of bragging rights. Pure and simple, race hard, enjoy a beer afterwards, and swap tall tales. It really doesn't get any better. No awards. No medals. No self esteem building finisher medal. No fancy high tech microfiber participant shirt. It is not an overpriced politically correct fundraiser for some obscure cause. Just runners racing hard, laughing hard, and enjoying the beautiful spring morning in one of the most picturesque places in California. For this year's event, I could think of no better way to celebrate not only my birthday, but my second chance at life than running with my college teammates Phil, Stu, and our coach, Aldge. I have to give credit where credit is due, it was Stu who came up with our team name Last of the Cossacks. When we ran at Sonoma State back in the 80's and 90's our school mascot was the Cossacks. What a great mascot! Everywhere we ran we were always asked, "What is a cossack?" We loved it. "A cossack is a Russian horseman who was known for his ferocious military skills, which included burning villages, pillaging, and leaving a wake of destruction. Kind of like what we are going to do to you today when we race!" But times being what they are, a few years ago our school mascot was changed to the Seawolves. Now, being an English teacher, I appreciate the Jack London reference, but come on! Really! Is that an intimidating mascot? Not when it is compared to a Cossack! Cossacks evoke fear. Seawolves evoke...what is a seawolf? It is not as fun to explain. Curse you political correctness. Racing is not a politically correct endeavor. It is a raw, animalistic instinct that requires you to be ruthless. The objective is to finish first. If you don't finish first, your objective is to finish as high up the ladder as possible. No question, second is better than third. Seventh is better than tenth. Outkicking someone is more fun than being outkicked. And here is the beautiful part...no one takes it personally! When you race, everyone understands the rules and the agenda. I am not going to let you beat me because your feelings might get hurt. I don't care if it crushes your self-esteem. Get over yourself and get out there and train. If you beat me, good for you! You earned it. Now, lets share a beer together. When we race, we are warriors and warriors do not live by a code of political correctness. Warriors live by a code of honor that values effort, personal integrity, and a resolve to see things through to the finish. There is a mutual respect that is earned through effort. It is real. Our Last of the Cossacks team finished 1st in the over 40 category and either 4th or 5th overall that February Saturday morning. We were far removed from our prime racing times, but we raced hard. We were Cossacks. When we toe the line again next February, we will once again remind Sonoma County that SSU is the home of the Cossacks, not the Seawolves, throw political correctness to the wind, and leave a wake of destruction on the race course! We are the Last of the Cossacks!

Athlete's Heart

I was given the best compliment yesterday that my cardiologist could ever give me when we were discussing my recovery and course of action for the next couple of months when he mentioned that I have an athlete's heart. Although he was referring to my cardiovascular system, it is so much more than my heart, arteries, veins and lungs working in unison to provide my muscles oxygen rich life giving blood, it is the very core and essence of who I am as a person, an athlete. My whole life has been about the body in motion. From little league first baseman to riding the bench as a varsity basketball player to an All American collegiate runner to a graying master who still loves to lace up feather-weight neon shoes, I have always been an athlete. There is something about being in motion out on a trail, the early morning road, or circling a mando surface that brings an electrifying satisfaction to my being. No doubt about it, I love to run... But my athlete's heart is not that fist sized lump of muscle in the center of my chest. My athlete's heart is my passion for what I do. The excitement I feel when I lace up my neon green Nikes as I step on Hayward Field to run a mile, that is my athlete's heart. The pride I feel when my daughter, without any prodding, wakes up, laces up, and heads out the door because she wants to hit her required time to make the traveling squad for her college cross country team, that is my athlete's heart. Waking up at 3:30am to get to a work-out early to warm up a little extra with my Visalia Runners teammates on a Thursday morning, just so I can drink a little extra coffee and enjoy great conversation, that is my athlete's heart. Jumping up and down and giving high fives to my high school athletes for hitting a new personal record on a course or event, that is my athlete's heart. Giving an "atta girl" when my high school classmate Kelly buys her first pair of running shoes and discovers the joy of being an athlete, that is my athlete's heart. An athlete's heart is that part of you that digs deep and hangs on when every muscle fiber screams to give in and quit. An athlete's heart is that part of you that drives you to victory and refocuses you when you lose. An athlete's heart is that part that pumps with excitement and joy when you run a personal record and breaks when you fail. An athlete's heart is that part of you that defies logic and reason and brings you ecstasy when you splash through mud puddles at 5:00am on a Saturday morning rather than sleeping in. An athlete's heart is that part of you at 45 that would rather be old and slow than not moving at all...because to not run at all is to die. So thanks Doc for understanding who I am as a person, an athlete and thanks for knowing that I don't want to survive, I want to live...I want to be a runner. As always, stay healthy, keep running and live out your passion from the heart.

Blessed

It has been eight months since my heart attack and seven months since I had my two stents implanted in two arteries. Even though I passed my yearly physical with flying colors, had two follow up stress tests that have gone well, there are days that I feel depressed, lonely, and filled with unsettling questions. Am I going to see all three of my children graduate high school, college, or walk my two daughters down the aisle, and grow old with my wife? On a daily basis, what is that twinge in my left arm? Why am I more tired today than yesterday? Is today the day I fall down in a heap and will exist in this life no more? These questions hang heavy on my mind... Fortunately, I have my daily run. Each day I run I am reminded of who I am and what I was created to be, a man in motion. When I run I am free to question God and not be disturbed to hear his gentle quiet voice calm my anxiety. When I run I feel the pleasure of the simple joy of my body moving with all systems of my cardio-vascular network flowing with life. When I run my mind is free to focus on all the beautiful blessings that I have been given in my life through my wife, children, family and friends. When I run I celebrate the life I am living in the moment of the present as the past and future are non-entities since it is only the now that matters when one is in motion. Depression, anxiety and worries melt in the sweat that drips from my body and I am reminded that the best thing in life is simply giving the best that you have for that day. When I run, I am blessed. I don't really know what the future holds for me. My last stress test showed no decrease in blood flow, but a mild weakness. What this means, I don't know and will not have a clue until I meet with my cardiologist next week, but I do know this...when I lace up to go run I will be free to be who I am. My heart will pump harder and faster. My head will clear. I will hear God's voice. I will focus on what is good in my life. And when I finish my run I will be filled with a feeling that all is going to be ok in life because I have lived a blessed running life. As always, stay healthy, keep running, and I hope you have a blessed day too!

Second Wind

On Monday morning, November 7 at approximately 9:00 am I received the news that has since changed the course of how I will live the rest of my days on earth, I was having a heart attack. With a deep family history, on both sides, of coronary artery disease I knew the day would come, I just did not expect it to arrive at the age of 44. Fortunately, I am well aware of my family history and having spent the last 30 years in this wonderful, crazy life known as being a runner, I got to the emergency room quickly and my heart suffered no damage. As scary as the situation was, I still swelled up with pride as the various nurses and technicians asked, "Are you a runner?" I love it, even facing an uncertain future, possibly death, I smiled as others recognized my body and spirit has been chiseled from thousands upon thousands of miles out on the roads, trails and track.

On December 2 I had two stents placed in my two 80% blocked coronary arteries and have begun the long process of becoming a runner again. On Christmas morning I gave myself the best gift I could receive and jogged 2 miles. It was the sweetest two mile jog I have ever ran. As the crisp December morning filled my lungs, my legs ached from too much time laying around watching the boob tube and my mind raced, acutely aware of every beat of my heart wondering if this is too soon to try and run? As I circled the track, my anxiety melted away as that old familiar sense of pleasure of being in motion engulfed my body and I let my mind drift off into the past, remembering all of you have made this such an incredible journey so far and I simply ran.

There is an old term in distance running called second wind. This term is used to describe that feeling that a runner gets after suffering through a tough run where they feel that they can no longer keep going and are about to throw in the towel and all of a sudden catch a burst of energy and their strength is renewed. Personally, I always thought this was a bunch of hogwash. A properly trained runner knows he is going to hit some rough patches in training or a race and that you just have to suck it up and keep going. Sometimes you are going to get through it and feel fine and other times, well, you are just going to feel like crap, that's running and racing. The question is, how are you going to handle it? Are you going to suck it up? There is no second wind, just mental toughness and the willingness to keep running.

My heart attack is just a rough patch that I am facing, so the question is, am I going to throw in the towel and step off the track or suck it up? Well, I have thrown in the towel before and there is no feeling worse than stepping off the track and watching the other runners keep going by...so I only see one option, suck it up. I'm a runner. This means that I have to do things that sometimes are not very fun or that I don't want to, but in order for me to improve as an athlete, are vital to my success. For me, running is not enough to maintain a healthy heart. I have to give up some of my favorite foods: bacon, butter, ice cream, large greasy burgers and gallons of coffee at a time. Not only do I have to restrict my diet, but I also have to take a plethora of medications that are going to affect my ability to run fast. I now have to run with a heart rate monitor to gauge my level of exertion and carry a cell phone. This of course is God's sense of humor at work, since I used to make fun of people running with all their gadgets and now I have no choice but to run with them. But, I am going to suck it up and run. In a few minutes I am going to lace up my new Brooks running shoes, strap on my heart rate monitor, slip on my nifty little cell phone arm band, take a long deep breath of January fog laced air, smile, a deep satisfying smile, thank God that I am still here and get to do what few people get to do, enjoy that one passion that I have pursued for the past 30 years...I am going to run!

As always, stay healthy, keep running and most of all, enjoy each and every step of today's run.