Down by the River

Reading "50/50" by Dean Karnazes today, I ran across this very insightful viewpoint regarding an intriguing contrast of both passion and motivation in regards to running. Here is an excerpt from his book:

The best way I know to overcome low motivation for running is to get back in touch with the source of my passion to run. Motivation and passion are somewhat different. Passion is an overwhelming love for the experience of a favorite activity. Motivation is a drive to engage in an activity based on some reward the activity offers beyond the simple enjoyment of the experience itself. When you have great passion for running, or anything else, you don't need any extra motivation. But motivation without passion can only take you so far.

Nonrunners become runners by developing a passion for running. But runners often take their running in directions that distance them from the source of their passion. Trading the simple joy of running for a focus on competition is the classic scenario... That being said, there is no question that setting event goals can be a powerful motivator for runners, and it has had a positive effect on my moral in the past. Looking forward to a specific event goal has a way of making each individual training motivation level high. However, goals only have this effect when they are appropriate, and when they are viewed with the proper perspective. For example, if you set a goal to run a marathon as a way to impress others, it probably won't keep you motivated. Goals have to come from the heart. They must represent achievements that you desire for yourself. And if you place too much importance on any goal, then it won't keep you motivated. If achieving a certain finishing time in your next marathon becomes the only thing about your running that matters to you, then you may not enjoy the process of training for that marathon. Sure, achieving a goal can be rewarding, but it's the journey--not reaching the destination--that brings true fulfillment.

Okay, I sheepishly admit...I secretly love playing dodgeball with the church youth on Wednesday nights. I'm certainly not an dodgeball expert, because frequently you'll see me being completely owned by those who are younger and, realistically, more expertly-trained than I. But even though I am clearly not the dodgeball professional I aspire to be, I still utterly enjoy it. You could say I have a passion for it. Now, if Jon were to make good on his regular promises of fist-fulls of candy to the winning team, rather than only his "undying love and affection", things might change. However, I am thinking that still wouldn't affect the outcome of the game for me. Though such motivation is obviously good and all, just the act of this favorite pastime, shared with our group of middle-schoolers, is simply more than enough to suffice.

Sure, some runners say that running and motivation go hand-in-hand. That by seeking motivation first, the desire to run (and run successfully) will surely follow. I can relate to this. Who wouldn't say that motivation isn't a strong stimulator? I'm certainly not denying the effect that it has on pushing us out of a warm bed at those freakeshly-early morning times, or the response that it develops in us as we inevitably work increasingly harder towards prized goals. That's life. Without motivation, most of us wouldn't tackle the hard stuff. But remember, if all you strive for is a set of results, then that motivation is inevitably going to keep you locked on a one-way path headed towards lack of enthusiasm.

Dean is obviously onto something here. It seems that some of us have forgotten the basics of how powerful passion can be within our lives, as well within our running.

Can you remember back to the original enthusiasm that brought you to running in the first place? Maybe it was the liberation from your own self-doubt...you know, those limitations you thought that eternally separated you from the casual runner you'd see time to time running across town, seemingly without a care in the world. Or how about the courage your running developed...the desire to experience or do something you thought previously wasn't possible, and the glorious self-awakening you felt when you did it. The rush of endorphins, and the knowledge that by breaking through those limitations you had found a hidden runner inside yourself.

I feel that running and passion go hand-in-hand. That, by finding and remembering your passion (and making this a running foundation), your motivation and the success of your running will surely follow. It's all about getting back to those basics. Back to the acceptance that some goals may or may not be reached, a race may or may not be finished, a PR may or may not be set...it's acceptance. It's back to running for and with a passion, and letting the motivation grow from there.

I like this quote by Jesse Owens -- "I always loved running...it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs." How true this is, that when you break running down to its very core, the single strongest element that encourages and pushes us is the passion from which it was originally developed.

I'm just like you. I have my days of good running, and some days of bad running. My motivational levels swing up and down, much like the thermometer currently outside. Today was clearly one of those days where the pool of motivation was lower than normal. But then I found an old trail down by the river, and for an hour I simply ran. Through four inches of fresh snow, patches of ice and sharp gusts of wind, I ran. Thoughts from the pressing matters of life dropped away for a few brief moments, and somewhere along the way the passion was found again.

And in finding this, I kept right on running.

Proclamations of Thanksgiving

by President Abraham Lincoln, 1863

It is the duty of the nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord.

We know that by His divine law, nations, like individuals, are subjected to punishments and chastisements in this world. May we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war which now desolates the land may be a punishment inflicted upon us for our presumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole people?

We have been recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.

But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us. (A. Lincoln, March 1863)

It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, teverently and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my Fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. (A. Lincoln, October 1863)

In these changing times, let us be reminded of the beliefs held by the founding fathers of our nation. Wishing you all a wonderful, and grateful, Thanksgiving holiday!

Adventures in Off-Roading

I am what you would call a self-described, enthusiastic, part-time trail runner. I'm the type of person who enjoys the quiet, the scenery, and the challenge a trail provides. Indeed, dirt paths are easier on the legs and feet than hard-surfaced roads, and most are away from traffic, but they can also be a true test of strength and stamina. Besides, being out in nature can turn a blasé run into an adventure.

Trails are also a great way to keep running while you're on vacation visiting state and national parks. However, remember that some trails are easier to negotiate than others.

Here's a quick guide to different trail types if you're interested in a little off-road running yourself.

RAILS TO TRAILS

Throughout the United States, thousands of miles of old railway lines have been converted into multiuse trails. They're flat (never more than a three percent grade) and scenic, and some have mile markers-- perfect for most workouts. Surfaces are either dirt, gravel (crushed rock), or paved; a paved trail often has a parallel dirt path alongside it. Find one near you by visiting Rails-to-Trails.

GROOMED TRAILS

Packed-dirt paths often travel along rivers or creeks, or around lakes and parks. Their smooth, forgiving surface makes them the best choice for reducing impact without the added hazards of rocks and roots. Some are measured, and some are wide enough for your kids to join you on their bikes.

HIKING TRAILS

These narrow, rugged paths tend to have obstacles like rocks, roots, and stream crossings, which challenge your balance and lateral motion. They make for a great workout but can also lead to sprained ankles, so start with a hike-run. Run the flat sections, then walk the hills and tricky terrain. Hike with friends, tuck a map into your fuel belt, and be prepared for hazards like animals, bugs, or weather changes.

Race Report: 2008 Living History Farms XC

Race: Living History Farms
Date: November 22, 2008
Location: West Des Moines, IA
Distance: 7 miles
Official Time: 1:05:49
Pace/Mile: 9:24

A light wind blowing, temps hovering in the high 20's, and the slight hint of flurries in the air...the perfect weather for a racing classic. With over 7,500 runners converging Saturday morning on Living History Farms in West Des Moines, this race certainly continues to live up to its billing as the largest cross-country race in North America. Where else can you see runners dressed as reindeer pulling Santa and his sleigh, a flock of women in emaculate white wedding dresses, guys in swimsuits and goggles, the entire entourage from the Wizard of Oz, an Elvis-impersonator or two, and a guy in a cow costume. In a word, this race is 'udderly' crazy!

Hoping to find a better parking spot than last year which would allow me to be closer to the start but also provide me an easier exit with the post-race crowds, I arrived around 7:00 a.m. The area was already beginning to fill up, with scores of runners jogging to and fro, some picking up their race packets with others nervously pacing in an attempt to stay warm. Having picked up my packet the night before, I was glad to be sitting out my early morning wait in a warm vehicle instead of the long line I saw outside the main pickup & registration location. Pulling out my morning newspaper and half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich, I hunkered down to pass the time.

Closer to 8:00, I stepped out of my Jeep and began my pre-race stretching routine. The cold air was certainly crisp, but with this race, I'd rather have it snowy and cold than sunny and warm any day. Finished with my stretching, I walked over to use portable toilets (surprisingly clean) and then ambled towards the large crowds. An interesting mix of runners had already begun to congregate in front of the registration building. It included an impromptu ritual dance by the man dressed in only a indian loincloth, famed for running barefoot in every race he attends, and a small crowd of giggling brides dressed in bright white gowns (soon to be a muddy brown, of course). Though I'm never typically surprised by the costumes which appear each year for this race, I do wonder once in a while whether the people wearing them are a bit crazy. I mean, who in their right minds would wear nothing but a diaper to a 7-mile cross country foot race? Makes me feel somewhat overdressed in my long-sleeve and running tights. But at least I'm comfortable.

Lining up in the starting corral, I realized then just how large this popular Iowa race has become. Crowds of runners extending virtually forever in all directions around me, almost 700 more than last year alone. After a few brief announcements, including that of reminding runners to be sure timing chips were firmly attached to shoes, the entire assembly came together for the singing of the National Anthem in unison. Then the last-minute fidgets before, while we counted down to race start. And we're off!

Having positioned myself in the first 1,000 runners near the starting line, I only had but a minute to wait before those around me began the transition from a slow creep into a nominal running pace. Someone next to me kept asking, "where's the start? where's the start?", to which I replied, "just look for the timing mats". I figured that since we were wearing timing chips, we'd assuredly trot over some sort of timing mats at or near the start that would kick off our official race timing. But as we passed under the final banners and photographers, we all soon realized that someone must have forgotten that crucial element. What, no timing mats? Quickly triggering the chrono on my watch, I increased my pace a little to make up for the 'late' start, eager to make the best time overall that I could.

The first mile of the course took everyone around the 1800's-replica farm town and past the hundreds of spectators that lined its dirt streets, all screaming their encouragements. As the roadway wound up and around the outskits of the village, we then entered the tunnel which would pass us under Interstate 35 to the outlying fields beyond. Mile 2 saw us headed down a dusty road past the large barn and horse-powered farm, just as the crowd of runners began to thin some. Towards the end of this mile, we would turn onto a double track trail along the edge of a tilled field. Having experienced a sprained ankle on this same uneven path a previous year, I did my best to find the flatest route and followed a group of eager young runners as they wound their way past a few of the slower ones.

The next mile found us following the fields as they ebbed and flowed around the existing farmland. The winds were light, but still chilling in their effect on those of us who were beginning to grow warmer with every step. I pulled the zipper on my thermal shirt down a couple notches and rolled my sleeves slightly, trying my best to equalize the heat and cold my body craved and yet required.

Mile 3 clicked by like clockwork, with my watch showing roughly 26:30. In the distance, I could see the hoards of runners as they dropped into the first wooded section containing one of the many famed creek crossings we were sure to encounter. As we followed those in front of us, we entered the woods and were immediately faced with our first water event. Not hesitating, I jumped down to the freezing water below and proceded to scurry as quickly as I could up the other bank. The water had been over ankle-deep, and was quite a shock to the feet. But I knew they would warm up within minutes if I kept my pace. Out the other side and through the trails of yet more hills, we plodded forward.

Exiting the first section of woods, we came upon yet another expansive field. This open portion would last a mile or so. Part way through, we passed over the marker for Mile 4 and past a primitive village site. Nearly tripping on an exposed campfire pit, we turned onto a narrow path that would lead us into the next wooded foray. Again, we were subjected to more ups and downs, creeks and riverbeds. Many times, we found ourselves clawing our way up muddy slopes with only the aid of knotted ropes. Oh, what fun!

Shortly after Mile 5, we once again entered the thundering tunnel under I-35 and left the roadway for the final wooded section of the course. Here, it was hill after constant hill, with more water than we'd experienced the entire first half. By now, my toes were beginning to lose feeling, but I encouraged myself to continue on without a break. At Mile 6, we began a long downward trail towards the final creek crossings. Glancing furtively at my watch, I noticed I was still doing fairly well with a time of about 56:12. Knowing the last mile contained the mother-of-all-hills, I dug as deeply as I could and raced through this final wooded section and launched myself over the final watery pit. Before me loomed "the hill".

Taking a brief 15-20 second respite from the punishment at hand, I quickly assessed myself and began focusing on the remainder of the course before me. I loped back into a uphill jog, picking up pace slightly as I reached the top. All along the meadow above, runners were panting and heaving, trying to catch any air they could. But all of us knew that stopping now wasn't in the cards...that finish line was but a half-mile away. Up and over a few modest hills, not to mention a log to two, we found ourselves on the downhill portion and entering the farm town setting again. Putting on a burst of what available speed I had, I did my best to pass as many people as I could before literally falling over the timing mats at the end.

Walking up the hill from the finish line, I met my friend Tom who had finished a couple of minutes before. He was already starting to tremble from the cold, and mentioned he would be looking for some hot apple cider as soon as possible. Making my way to the post-race refreshments area, I found a couple of donuts waiting exclusively for me. Ah, how did they know?

Do you know when a race is considered hugely successful? Just glance around afterwards and notice the thousands of finishers with telltale grins on their faces, sharing war-stories from the past hour or so. That is Living History Farms in a nutshell. Oh, that and the jelly-filled donuts.

Be sure to check out the Des Moines Register video.

Winter Blues Rules

As the air chills, the roads get sloshy, and darkness intrudes on your morning and evening runs, you need to retool your routine. But with a little planning, you can maintain your workouts throughout the cold-weather season.

MAP IT

Scout out well-lit, traffic-free routes near your home, office, and kids' activities. Find two or three alternatives near each place so that you have options for different conditions-and a little variety. Find a few indoor options, too. Many health clubs offer winter memberships, and some malls and arenas open their doors to runners after hours.

DO IT MIDDAY

If you can't find safe options for running in the dark, go out at lunch. At first you might feel sluggish exercising midday, but after two or three runs, you'll feel better. The break from your desk will leave you feeling refreshed and energized. Make sure to have a light snack one to two hours before your run.

HIT A HILL

Hills build leg and lung power. Find a moderately steep rise, or set the treadmill at a two- to four-percent incline. After a warmup, run up the hill for five to 10 seconds, then walk downhill. Next, run for 10 to 12 seconds, picking up the pace slightly, and take a one-minute walk break. For the last segment, run for 10 to 20 seconds. On each workout, add 15 to 30 seconds of running and a one-minute walk break. Be sure to cool down.

PICK IT UP

Speedwork can help you make the most out of your limited time. After a warmup, run for 20 seconds at a pace that's slightly faster than usual, then walk for 40 seconds. Do this twice more, picking up your pace slightly each workout.

Chuck Norris Sweat?

Thanks to Jon, I now know what I desperately want to find in my stocking at Christmastime...a Mandle.




For your information, here are a few little-known facts about Chuck Norris:

Chuck Norris is so tough he's the only guy I know who uses pepper spray to spice up his steaks.

Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas.

Chuck Norris' favorite cut of meat is the roundhouse.

Google won't search for Chuck Norris because it knows you don't find Chuck Norris, he finds you.

When taking the SAT, be sure to write "Chuck Norris" for every answer...you're sure to score over 8,000.

Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.

Monday Run-Down

It feels as though the fall season is rapidly bleeding away from us. Just yesterday, it seemed it was October...bright autumn leaves and the plans of a marathon trip to NYC but a away. Yet today's run reminded me that God created these wonderful seasons. He also created running tights, for a reason—and when the north winds howl and the temperature is hovering above freezing, you shouldn't end up forgetting them at home.

A quick run-down on recent happenings and things to come...

Though a little over two weeks have passed, I am still feeling the afterglow of running in the NYC Marathon. It was a great experience for me, and one I know I won't soon forget. I've had so many opportunities to relate my personal story to friends and family, as well as numerous chances to thank them for their support and prayers. It has also inspired me to look ahead and set still more goals.

It's definitely that time of year again. Yes, you know…the age-old, annual tradition where you blanket the outside of your home with millions of tiny bulbs, that fine act of ladder-balancing while freezing most every body part you own, the seemingly endless process of poring over the miles of drop cords and strands of Christmas lights searching for the one small reason why the entire house refuses to become a Griswoldian beacon to the local neighborhood...

 Clark:  Russ, we checked every bulb, didn't we?
 Rusty:  Sure, Dad.
 Clark:  Hmm...maybe we ought to just go up there 
         and check...
 Rusty:  Oh, wow.  Look at the time.  I gotta 
         get to bed. I still gotta brush my teeth, 
         feed the hog, still got some homework to
         do, still got those bills to pay, wash 
         the car...

Ah, Christmas is coming...now, where's that ladder?

The Living History Farms race is this Saturday...I am so totally psyched. And why not, this happens to be my favorite race of the entire year. I mean, where else can I spend a fabulous Saturday morning in November running through woods, fields and streams with thousands of other crazy runners and, while crossing that finish line completely covered caked in mud and grime, still have the incredulous look of pure enjoyment on my face? It's priceless.

Over Hill, Over Dale...It's LHF!

"Over hill, over dale, through bush, through briar, over park, over pale, through blood, through fire, I do wander everywhere..."

It's official...the 30th annual Living History Farms Off-Road Race, to be held next weekend—November 22nd, received its 7,500th entrant this weekend and registration is now closed! Widely considered the "largest cross-country race in North America" and featured favorably in both Runner's World and RunningTimes magazines, this 7-mile classic is an awesome way to end the racing season, as well as stock up on more than enough running stories to last the entire winter long. And just so you understand that I am not kidding around, you literally must be ready to climb fences, wade through creeks and streams, avoid farm animals of all types, and claw your way to the top of mud-filled gullies along with thousands of other runners of likewise questionable senses. Sounds like a fun race, eh?

Well, apparently there were more than a few runners with said questionable senses at last year's event (6,882 to be exact) so race organizers have wisely decided to implement a 7,500 participant limit on the race this year. That will inevitably make for a crowded start line, however with race chip timing also making a debut I'm sure we'll all have a safe and speedy race out there.

If you were lucky enough like me to have signed up for the madness early, just prepare yourself: get there early, don't wear anything you wouldn't want ruined, and double-knot those shoelaces. (A hockey helmet and some shin guards may be warranted, too.) But above all, enjoy yourself for the ride of your life.

Still unsure what this LHF-hype is all about? See the KCCI video from the 2007 race. Steve Bobenhouse, fellow race director and a friend of mine, does a wonderful job here explaining the unique qualities of the race and what runners should expect to find come race day.

Oh, and be sure to check back here soon after the race for my racing report and photos/video of the event. Yes, I will attempt this year to carry a camera with to hopefully document some of the action along the way. See you out there!!

I Just Wanna Run

So this explains the curious stares I've been receiving around the neighborhood. But I just wanna run...is that so wrong?

Race Report: NYC Marathon, Part IV

Event: The ING New York City Marathon   
Runner: Mike Eilers
 
Latest Results at 02:24:09 PM, 11/02/2008
 
Location        Time         Pace/mile
5km             0:28:08      9:03
10km            0:54:55      8:50
15km            1:22:56      8:53
20km            1:51:49      8:59
Mile 13.1       1:59:19      9:06
25km            2:23:27      9:14
Mile 16         2:29:29      9:20
Mile 17         2:38:42      9:20
Mile 18         2:48:59      9:23
30km            2:56:40      9:28
Mile 19         3:00:06      9:28
Mile 20         3:12:14      9:36
Mile 21         3:23:58      9:42
35km            3:32:12      9:45
Mile 22         3:34:38      9:45
Mile 23         3:46:22      9:50
Mile 24         3:57:50      9:54
40km            4:07:41      9:57
Mile 25         4:09:09      9:57
Mile 26.2       4:21:57      9:59
 
All times are unofficial. Times may vary in post race official results.
 
Please note: This e-mail was sent from the NYRR Automated E-mail Notification System. Please do not reply.
 
Sincerely,
New York Road Runners
 

Race Report: NYC Marathon, Part III

Crowds are not allowed on the course between miles 15-16 of the New York City Marathon, therefore it is a quiet, convenient place perfect for contemplation and assessment as you focus on the final 10 miles remaining in the race. All you hear is the pounding of hundreds of runners feet around you, as they trudge up what is considered to be the steepest portion of the marathon course. Oh, that and the sound of your racing heart as it attempts to keep up with the incline of the onramp and your pace setting as you climb up, and up, and up...welcome to the Queensboro Bridge.

Honestly, I had been secretly dreading the Queensboro Bridge. All I had been hearing was how hard it was. Not only would you be crossing over the 15 mile mark at the start of the bridge, but you would also be crossing the 16 mile mark while on the bridge...while still climbing. That's crazy, if you ask me. It is about 2 miles long, with a nominal uphill incline. Oh, and did I mention there were no fans there to scream out encouragement? It was seemingly endless, but I kept running. Checking my watch, I noticed I had been fairly consistent up and to this point in the race. Mile 16 showed an overall pace/mile of 9:20. Now, I'd been hoping for a finish time of 4:00 to 4:15, but these hills were beginning to take their toll on my quads. I wasn't sure yet how I would be able to pick up the pace for the remaining miles. Then we crossed over Mile 16 and came off the bridge into Manhattan. And if race bliss ever had a name, it would surely be First Avenue.

The crowds of First Avenue are much different than those found in both Brooklyn and Queens. There the streets are lined with crowds 2-3 people deep offering words of encouragement. However, here the wide avenue was stacked 4-6 people deep, all yelling at the top of their lungs. What a crowd! The entire street stretched on and on, as if you could virtually see all the way from 59th to well past 125th. Each person seemed to be screaming my name..."co'mon Mike, you can do it!", "way to go, Mike!", and "run, Mike, run!!" Of course, having my name printed on the front of my running Team World Vision jersey obviously helped with that. I'd been reminded over and over again to have my name visible throughout the race, primarily as a way for the crowds to offer their own personalized encouragement. And on First Avenue, they gave me plenty. I would hazard a guess I must have heard my name called out more than a couple hundred times throughout the race, but here is where I needed it the most. It was also here that I saw my wife and travel companions, just before Mile 17, rooting and cheering ecstatically for me. I think I heard them long before I actually saw them, they were that loud. In my opinion, Miles 16-18 were pure enjoyment. One large street, six lanes wide, and virtually a million spectators. Who could have asked for more?

However, I could tell my quads were beginning to feel kaput by Mile 19. My overall pace had been slipping ever so slightly over the past couple of miles and was threatening 9:30/mile. All of those previous hills were finally taking their toll. As I neared the dreaded "Wall" at Mile 20, my pace had officially reached 9:28 and I could tell then the final 10k was going to be a bit of a challenge. Crossing over the orange carpeting on the Willis Avenue Bridge from Manhattan into the Bronx, we were surprisingly met with a host of bag pipers as the runners wound their way off the onramp. However, here the crowds were a bit sparse. We also had a quick chance to see just how weary we all looked as each of us passed by the huge jumbo-tron screen there. But we didn't have time to soak in the sites, as this section inside the Bronx was only about a mile in total length. Before we knew it, we were headed over the Madison Ave Bridge and back into the familiar territory of Harlem and Manhattan.

Just off the bridge, we passed over Mile 21 and the crowd began picking up again. Bands were playing with gusto, family members were waving banners, and kids were handing out Halloween candy. Bless their hearts...I even had one little girl offer me a grape Jolly Rancher. How did she know they were my all-time favorite marathon hard candy? I relished the sour taste it provided and pushed on. Less than five miles to go.

Up next, we rounded the Marcus Garvey Memorial Park for Mile 22. This is a unique and totally inviting section of Harlem that just beacons "stay a while" to a tourist like myself. The shops all along the avenue were quaint and well-kept, and I tried to take a couple of photos to remember it by but my hand must have been unsteady enough that the pictures all turned out too blurry. Guess I'll have to come back someday. Within a few blocks, we could see the famous Central Park treeline up and to our right. I knew we would need to follow along the Park on Fifth Ave for a little longer than a mile before actually entering it. By now, it hurt enough that walking seemed the most inviting. But trying to start running again after that only hurt worse, so I resolved myself to just plugging along.

Mile 23 came and went quickly. By this time the crowds of people had begun to creep off of the sidewalks, narrowing the runners course to only about 10-15 feet in width. I suppose it felt much like the Tour de France, where the teams of bikers are forced to literally plow their own pathway through thousands of well-wishers. Many a time I found myself having to move towards the center of the roadway as unbudging spectators lined my intended path.

We next turned right at the Reservoir and into Central Park. Ah, running down these tree-lined roads there felt like I was running at home again. It was possibly even invigorating. Just over 2.5 miles to go. And the crowds just kept getting larger. Mile 25. I can't tell you how many times I heard my name called out. I kept running. Exiting the Park near the Plaza Hotel, we came upon the last lonely stretch on Central Park South. Quickly scanning the crowds for the trademark Yankees baseball bat and pink butterfly, I thought I caught a glimpse on the opposite side of the street. Crossing over through the throng of runners to greet them there was more difficult than I expected, however I was able to surprise them before they even had a chance to snap a photo. And, Laura, here's my photo to prove it...he, he.

At the end of Central Park South was Columbus Circle and Mile 26. Just one final turn into the park and it was almost over. I was smiling from ear to ear by this time. I could see the finish line in the distance. The official marathon signs, and the deafening crowds, all began counting it down... 400 yards to go... 300 yards to go... 200 yards to go... 100 yards to go... Thrusting my arms high into the air, I greeted these final crowds and crossed the finish line. The official clock read 4:21:57. I'd done it. What I had set out more than a year ago with ambition and the dream to run the largest and most popular marathon in the world, I had now completed only a moment ago.

I'll be honest, I truly felt the emotion of the moment swirl over me...and with misting eyes I just kept smiling.

Race Report: NYC Marathon, Part II

With the first wave of runners now underway at 9:40, we were quickly moved down our corral system and into the general runner queue on top of the waiting bridge. Helicopters kept criss-crossing the sky, all vying for the best angle on the starting line action. I silently readied the chronograph feature on my watch and lifted my camera into the air, hoping to catch a snippet of the actual start on video. Not a moment later, the cannon sounded and Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" filled the air. We were off!

Now, the first mile of the marathon happens to be all uphill. The race begins at the base of the Verrazano Bridge and the end of Mile 1 is located just after the apex of the climb upward. Normally, I would think a slope such as this would affect the planned pace of runner. But not here. Off we went immediately throwing caution to the wind, just happy to be running in the greatest marathon in the world. Giddy like a schoolchild, I pulled out my camera and commenced snapping photos left and right, hoping to catch every nuance of the start as I could. I even stepped up onto the center median of the bridge to capture the site of Manhattan in the distance, and was pleasantly surprised to learn a news photographer had also captured me doing so. We found out on Monday that this photo made the front page of the NYC Times. I'm officially a celebrity. (I actually wouldn't have noticed its inclusion in the paper had it not been for my wife. As I scanned the page while standing in Times Square the next day, I exclaimed to her, "that's exactly what it looked like, and I was out there taking photos just like that guy there." To which she excited responded, "umm, hon, that's your blue sweatshirt—that IS you!!" A few tourists nearby perked up their heads at the mention…I wonder if I should have offered to autograph THEIR paper?)

Coming down the other side of the bridge, we quickly entered the southern region of Brooklyn. Exiting the main bridge highway, we zipped past the Mile 2 marker and were shuffled west onto 4th Avenue which roughly spanned miles 2-8 of the course. Laura and our friends had mentioned to me the night before, as they pored over subway and course maps, they would attempt to see me near the beginning and end of this section of the race. So I sidestepped a few runners and moved left to keep an eye open for my cheering crew. Now, finding only three people in a crowd of thousands is not easy. Fortunate for us, we took it upon ourselves to pick up a few kids blow-up toys: a blue Yankees baseball bat and a large pink butterfly. It it had not been for these, I know I would have surely missed them in the throng of spectators. Sure enough, they had successfully navigated the R Line and were patiently waiting for me as I blazed them by. Their screams of encouragement were loud and clear: keep going! I wasn't about to let them down, so onward I pressed.

Miles 3-8 were largely uneventful, other than the guy I noticed in front of me who had a bib pinned to his back which simply read "STREAKER". Come to find out later, this was one of only a handful of runners who had successfully completed NYCM for more than 20-some odd years in a row. What an accomplishment! Okay, I originally thought the guy was waiting for his most opportune moment to shed his running apparel and make a name for himself before course police yanked him down. No such luck. But I am glad.

Mile 9 saw us entering an interesting section of Brooklyn named Clinton Hill. Here, the streets narrowed a bit and the business fronts were replaced by actual neighborhoods filled with old and curious facades. I was feeling fairly well still by this time and hadn't yet decided to walk, even for the water stations that passed by every mile or so. My plan was to run as far as possible, likely until the 15-16 mile mark, before taking a quick breather. This is a mental-thing for me. I use it to continually push myself throughout a race, extending it where necessary to continally give myself goals throughout a course.

Miles 10-12 brought us through a variety of interesting neighborhoods, all rich with their own diversity. One that stood out for me was the Polish, or Polska, neighborhood. I am a quarter Polish myself, so this was truly a unique experience for me to see a little of my own heritage. So many little foods shops and restaurants dotted this area of the course, with little Polish children playing and plumb grandmothers walking to market everywhere. Such a wonderful area to see.

By Mile 13, I would have thought the crowd of marathon runners would have thinned some. But as I approached the halfway point, I was still literally elbow-to-elbow with my running comrades. And the crowds of well-wishing spectators were still as strong as ever. Truly amazing to be in a race where crowd support is so intense! Approaching the Pulaski Bridge, we prepared for our departure from Brooklyn and our grand entrance into Queens. Considered the largest in area and the second most populous of the five boroughs of New York City, Queens also happens to be the city's most diverse borough. Of course, experiencing it all would have to be for another day, as Miles 14-15 quickly passed by. Shortly after passing through the Queensboro Plaza and Mile 15, up ahead lay the infamous Queensboro Bridge.

Coming up...the last half!

Race Report: NYC Marathon, Part I

Race: ING New York City Marathon
Distance: 26.2 miles
Official Time: 4:21:57
Pace/Mile: 9:59

The alarm on the nightstand went off, startling me awake. The clock read 4:30...time for my NYC marathon experience to begin. I quietly crept to the bathroom, being careful not to wake everyone else, and began my pre-race routine. I could already hear the bustling city traffic below our 15th-floor window, no doubt many of the vehicle drivers being runners themselves as they worked their way through busy streets towards the start line in Staten Island. Fortunately for me, I had already signed up for bus transportation through NYRR and wouldn't need to navigate the unknown streets myself. However, it was already 5:05 and my bib ticket read for a 5:30 transport time…I'd better hurry or I might be sitting in a longer line than expected. Grabbing my official runner bag filled with pre-race goodies, I slipped out the door of our hotel room without waking anyone.

Exiting my hotel, I stepped out into early morning darkness and the crisp, cold race morning air. It was beautiful outside…the temperature being around 38 degrees and no wind to speak of. Had it not been for the multitude of other marathon athletes steadily flowing down the streets reminding me of the impending race to come, I may have wistfully forgotten my plans and instead opted for unique excursion run through Midtown as the city slowly woke itself up. But not today. Today I was on a mission: all five bridges, all five boroughs. I followed the sidewalk, and the existing throng of half-awake pedestrians, west towards the New York Public Library where dozens of Midtown Manhattan buses waited for the thousands of nervous but eager runners to board them. Queueing up with other athletes in the block-long line outside Bryant Park, starting where the entrance to the No. 7 line runs unnoticed below, we slowly filtered our way back east where officials continually verified our runner bibs and checked over our baggage. Standing in the colder temps, instead of walking like we'd been doing during our siteseeing the past couple of days, only invited shivers to join our nerves. Rounding the east side of the library roughly 20 minutes later, a full set of buses pulled away from the curb as another new group of buses took their place. The gaggle of runners I was with were directed towards the empty lead bus and quickly, but efficiently, herded inside. Sitting in the warm seats and dim lighting, I leaned my head back against the headrest and soon watched as the neighborhoods slipped by on our way to the start line.

I remember some of the bus ride over to Staten Island, but much of it just slipped by as I closed my eyes and began preparing myself mentally. And it was too dark to see much of anything any way. I didn't consider myself to be nervous at all, though I did want to do my best to properly anticipate the expansive grounds there at Fort Wadsworth and the mind-numbing crowds that would be surely milling about. Besides, I just wanted to reclaim a few precious moments of sleep if I could. As our bus crossed over the Verrazano Bridge and pulled up to the dropoff point, the hint of impending sunrise was just beginning to make itself known on the horizon. It was 6:20.

Following the collective bunch of runners as they exited the bus and joining the thousands already walking down the side of the roadway towards the Athlete Village entrance, I quickly snapped off a few pictures. I'd bought my little camera, an Olympus Stylus 850SW, not a week before and was intending to somehow document each stage of the voyage into the NYC Marathon unknown. I guess I was hoping to catch a little of the excitement, maybe some of the unrelateable, that many runners may never see or experience themselves. Seeing the lines of literally a hundred chartered buses waiting to pass through the tollway plaza behind ours, as well as being greeted by the multitudes of volunteers and police officers as I stepped through the official village entrance, it was more than enough to allow this realization to begin sinking in. Think of the largest race staging area you have ever been in…then quadruple it. Here was hundreds of tents, thousands of porto-potties, and 40,000+ of your closest friends…it was literally mind-boggling. That is what it was like as I walked onto the grounds there at Fort Wadsworth.

Runners are organized into three start villages or zones—blue, orange, and green. With a bib number of 27079, mine happened to be the orange village, officially known as the "Grete Waitz village". I followed the orange balloons and fencing down a long set of streets with other like-colored bibs, and finally found our staging area near the base of the bridge. Rather than simply finding a place to sit down, and being somewhat chilled yet from the gusts of wind from the bay nearby, I chose to check out my surroundings. Dunkin Donuts apparently happened to be one of the bigger sponsors of the race, since I found ample amounts of coffee and hot tea—crowd favorites it seemed. I also found tents where multitudes of bagels and powerbars were being handed out in droves. Quickly learning the runner tents were already full to overflowing, I grabbed a fresh bagel and some hot tea with honey and located a secluded spot alongside a Dunkin Donut truck where I could lean against its side and be away from the cold wind. The hot tea did little to warm me, so I pulled on my windbreaker. Hearing how the weather might be somewhat adverse while waiting for the actual race to begin, I'd planned ahead by purchasing some extra "toss-away" clothing from the local thrift store a couple weeks previous. My meager collection at least made the cold tolerable, as I grabbed the newspaper from my goody bag and hunkered down for a little over two hours of waiting.

Close to 9:00, I relinquished my cozy spot next to the donut truck and made my way over to the UPS baggage check area. Here I found volunteers outside my 27,000-27,999 truck who were eagerly waiting to take my bag off my hands and prep it for delivery to the finish line. The bag only contained my reading material and some extra food stuffs, so post-race collection wasn't exactly mandatory. If I found the lines too long there, I planned to bypass the truck entirely and head out of the park as quickly as possible. Next, I wandered over past the giant entertainment stage where a blues-inspired band played melodic tunes, apparently enticing several runners to get up and dance. Having forgotten my dancing shoes, I plodded past and soon found the entrance gate to the orange runner corrals. I located the sign containing the batch of numbers my bib was attached to and asked the gentleman there how soon before we could enter. He mentioned they would allow the first wave of runners to enter first, then us second wave runners could enter promptly after at 9:15. I only had a few minutes, so I found the closest tree nearby and began my stretching routines. I also pulled off my "toss-away" clothing, but kept my blue hooded sweatshirt to keep me somewhat warm for the final 45 minutes before the cannon sounded. Stepping through the gate, I moved forward as far as they would allow and waited for the eventual surge that would carry us along the corral and into starting position on the bridge.

Next...the start!

PHOTOS BY Mike
LABELS New York City Marathon, race report

Our NYC Trip

Well, we're back from New York City! Though we had an incredible time siteseeing in the city that obviously never sleeps, we are happy to be home with the kids, our slower Midwestern traffic, and less noise. Yeah, I know a person becomes accustomed to the noise levels from the persistent street and pedestrian traffic, but we like our quiet here at home. Sure makes sleeping a whole lot easier. {grin}

Our flight lifted off at 5:00 a.m. on Friday morning, with a quick stop in Minneapolis to change planes and pick up another travel companion. When we finally touched down in at the Newark Airport in New Jersey, it was about noon. Grabbing a hotel shuttle to Midtown East, we arrived at our hotel before our room was ready. We quickly checked our baggage and found the local charter bus that would transport us to the Javits Center for the ING New York City Marathon expo, where I was supposed to pick up my race packet. The actual check-in process was rather speedy, all of 10-15 minutes total I suppose, but the walk through the official marathon merchandise and vendor sections was clogged beyond imagination. Fortunately, I was able to snag a few articles of apparel (a LS half-zip running shirt, a running vest, etc.) that could remind me of the trip later and located a fast moving checkout lane. Additionally, I was able to have an Asics poster signed by Brian Sell (who took 3rd at the 2008 Olympic Marathon Trials), which was a pleasant surprise.

Saturday was filled with basic NYC siteseeing...a trip to the top of the Empire State Building, views of Wall Street and the WTC site, Times Square, Central Park, and most everything inbetween. Though I had visited earlier in the year for a work-related conference, it was still exciting to re-experience many of these again, especially with Laura. In fact, she fulfilled one of her lifelong wishes of riding the Central Park Carousel...that was fun.

Later that evening, we headed over to the Team World Vision pasta dinner at Dean's, just a block over from our hotel. When we arrived, we were ushered upstairs where we met and chatted with a dozen other team runners just like myself. Then we sat down for a wonderful dinner served family-style, with heaping bowls of various pasta and chicken creations, as well as authentic brick oven pizza, all very yummy. And just as I was stuffing my face with some tasty Rigatoni Mezza Calabra, who should walk in on the party? Ryan and Sara Hall, our charity team captains. Ryan happens to be the 2008 Olympic Marathon Trials champion at NYC last fall, surprising most everyone with a very consistent and even effort. What is exciting for me is his outspoken faith in the sport of running. They both greeted each of us and made small talk, before also sitting down to share in our meal. What an incredible night!

Leaving the restaurant, we headed back to the hotel so I could prepare my things for the race the next morning. I carefully pinned my race number bib (#27079), as well an additional smaller sign above with "My 1st NYCM - MIKE", to the front of my Team World Vision jersey, then made sure to attach the official timing chip to the laces of one of my running shoes. I also put together a few things that I would be taking with me for the long, pre-race wait the next morning, including extra clothing, my camera, food stuffs, and a newspaper for reading material. Carefully setting everything near the door where I could easily find it without waking everyone, and checking to be sure my alarms were set, I got ready for bed and turned off the light. It was about 10:30 p.m - only six hours until my race day would begin!

Next up, my NYC Marathon race report and photos as I work my way through the five boroughs of New York and 26.2 miles...

My Bags Are Packed…Let's Roll!

As you can see, my marathon bags are nearly packed and ready to go. I have yet to throw in a couple of items before they are complete, primarily our flight & hotel itinerary and my shaving kit, though I will likely perform a hasty, last-minute final check before heading out to the airport early tomorrow morning. And I do mean, early...as in our flight to NYC leaves at 5:00am? Big ole yawn.

Through my calm exterior I can tell the realization is beginning to sink in that, in just a little over two days, I will be running with a world-record crowd of nearly 40,000 other runners as we elbow our way from the Verrazano Bridge start on Staten Island, all the way to Central Park finish in downtown Manhattan. For 26.2 miles I will be experiencing firsthand the thrill this grand and majestic race, as it weaves us over five landmark bridges and through five historic city boroughs. I know my anxiety level will be high the morning of the race, as expected, but I'm hoping the three or so hours I will spend at Fort Wadsworth waiting for the marathon to begin will provide me a chance to relax and some time to reflect on what it took to get me to this moment.

From several sources, including Weather.com web site, all signs are pointing towards wonderful weather for the race on Sunday. Lows in the upper 30s, highs in the upper 40s to lower 50s, with light winds and a mostly sunny sky. Perfect, as most marathoners would say, for running fast times.

One of my hopes during the marathon is to see my lovely wife, and our friends who will make the journey with us, sometime during and just after the race. Their plan is to find me just after the 16-mile mark of the race, as I cross over the Queensboro Bridge from Queens and head north on First Avenue towards the Bronx. I know this point in the race will possibly be a crucial time for me to just recognize a familiar face in the crowd, as the race begins taking runners into its final miles. Though I have run and finished many marathons over the years, I know that finishing the final 6-10 miles are always the toughest for a runner. And New York City won't be any different, as I've been told that the course gets challenging as it winds it way over the final couple bridges and, lastly, through the hills of Central Park. Then our final challenge will be to find each other in the throngs of the over 1 million well-wishing spectators. Fortunately, the 1-2 mile post-race walk will give my legs a chance to stretch out some, but I know it will be great when I finally see her.

Personally, I don't know what finish time I'll receive -- there are so many factors involved with running the New York City Marathon for the first time -- but my goal is to finish close to around the 4-hour mark as possible. Of course finishing in under four hours for my inaugural NYCM would be wonderful and all, but I'll take whatever is given me. I'll just hope and pray I will do my best. Honestly, I want only to finish knowing that I have given it my all and have "run with endurance the race that is set before me (Hebrews 12:1).” To hopefully have a wonderful experience of the marathon, and of siteseeing in New York City, while sharing it all with my wife. That would make this trip the best.

Before leaving, I would like to thank all the family and friends who have or will support me this weekend. I really appreciate you all being there for me and this crazy endeavor. You all make it worth while.

So, the question is...am I ready? Ready to run with this insane amount of runners? Oh man, you bet!

I'll see you all when I get back on Tuesday.

Now, let's roll...

Birthday Girl

My little girl is growing up. Where have the years gone? Hannah enjoyed a large family birthday party this past weekend, but tonight it was just about the four of us being together. So we all stayed home, ordered Chinese takeout, carved a wheel-barrel load of pumpkins for our front porch, and gathered around a little pink mini-cake my wife had baked for the special occasion as we all sang to her "Happy Birthday".

Six little candles...sigh. I thank God for all six of them.

Pre-Race Butterflies

I am but a week away from boarding my early morning flight to New York City and, for the first time in a long, long while, I think I may be getting pre-race butterflies.

It's not that this is a new feeling for me, I mean I have been toeing the starting line of races for 22 years, having run in 19 marathons and well over 40+ other road races up and to this point in my life. Each one presented its own list of anxieties and goose bumps - some more, some less. But there's just something about knowing you're going to be running in the largest, and widely considered the most famous, marathon in the world.

Last night I was talking with a friend who completed her first half-marathon at the Des Moines Marathon this previous weekend. I could tell how incredibly excited she was knowing she had conquered the previous unknown, that she had charged through and had persevered the challenge of the distance she set before herself. Her expressions told the story of an elusive goal now met. Congratulating her on such a wonderful accomplishment, I politely inquired if she had any plans to explore the marathon distance someday. She paused for a moment, but I could see in her eyes the twinkling of a dream beginning to unfold. "I think I could do that," she said with a smile. Knowing her, I bet she'll tackle that marathon dream at next year's event, and good for her for accepting that challenge.

It has been many years since my first race. To me, it's been a long history of training through the seasons, giving each race everything I could, and leaving the gas tank empty each time. And though I've seen the finish line of countless distances, even a few multi-day staged events, I haven't yet felt like I've lost that twinkle of future possibility myself.

The anxieties I feel each and every time I pin that number to my shirt are what keep those possibilities, those dreams, inside of me alive. Those butterflies I experience reaffirm for me that I simply enjoy what I do. Trying to explain that to someone who hasn't felt the surge of thousands of runners suddenly explode into motion when the gun goes off is often times difficult. But, in that simplicity, the anxieties are what makes the race exciting, full of potential, and fodder for future possibilities.

You see, without them the race would be just that...a race. I'll take butterflies any day.

PHOTO BY Jupiter Images
LABELS race anxieties, training