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.