And...Exhale

Bob Dylan once referred to the writing of "Like a Rolling Stone" as "this long piece of vomit, 20 pages long." Something was building, and it was time for it come out. That's where I am and possibly how this will read.

Going to bed the night before the race, I told my wife, "I've done all the things I don't care for--newspaper and television interviews, speaking to groups of people, public attention. Now that's over. Tomorrow I get to do the thing I really love to do." And so I triple-checked that my alarm was set, a little before 5:AM, knowing full well I'd wake up before it could go off.

A short walk to the train station in order to get to Copley Square where I need to check in around 6:30. And the waiting begins. Of course I'm fidgety, just ready to run this race, but my wave doesn't start until 11:15, and with my corral I probably won't cross the starting line until close to 11:30. But this is the Boston Marathon, so whatever gripes I may have don't linger. In the fundraiser tent on Copley, I eat some breakfast and alternate among coffee, water, and a little Gatorade. Then some volunteers tell us it's time to load the buses and head to the starting line in Hopkinton. The bus ride is close to an hour in length, and I just wish the gentlemen behind me would stop talking. Please stop talking! Let a guy be quiet with his thoughts and maybe take a nap. Oh well.

We arrive around 8:15. Three hours until the start. That's agonizing, but I have no choice. A little more food and hydration, but at least I find a bench in a hallway inside part of Hopkinton High School away from most of the chatterboxes. So I wait, take a few trips to the port-o-johns, mostly stay off my feet. My friend texts that he and his brother of arrived at the Athletes' Village and I decided to try to find them. Now, I've never been to a refugee camp, and I don't mean to be too careless in discussing this, but after displaying my bib number for security and wading through a multitudes, smelling the football field-sized line-up of temporary toilets facilities, I come upon this. And this. And this. And this. And rather than wait in line for the toilet, there are some runners opting for the fence line. And I'm not talking just for #1, friends. Sorry, fellas. Run well, and I'll see you later. I head back to my secluded bench.

After hours of more waiting and a brief conversation with a John Hancock employee about to run his first marathon (hope you liked it, Jimmy!), they call my wave, and I begin the 20-minute walk to the starting line. Finally! It's shoulder-to-shoulder the entire way, and people along either side of the road are offering shots of sunscreen because the sun is already high. One last port-o-john stop, and I find my corral, filing in with thousands of other runners. This is when I get very quiet and simply pray, "Let this run glorify you, Lord. Thank you."

Now a general fly-over about the race. Because you're likely to become bored if I detail each mile.

A quarter-mile in, I see a few dozen men duck into the woods, regretting not hitting those port-o-johns near the start. Despite the number of participants (27,000+ finishers that day), I'm able to hit my stride early and settle into a decent pace. Around mile 3 my body says it has to make a pit stop (just #1), and I tell it, "If you still have to go at mile 10, I'll stop." Seems a reasonable arrangement.

I've adopted a practice from a friend of mine who prays and crosses himself at each mile marker. We're both Protestants, but it makes enormous sense to me. In fact, I see running as an offering, as another way to show my love for God. So at each mile I cross myself and say, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Thank you for that last mile. Give me strength in my legs and breath in my lungs to honor you with this next one."

Mile 6, Framingham, is very cool. Families are out in full force, cheering on the runners. The smell of barbecue and the sound of music fills the air. That party seems fun, but I have several miles to go.

I'm wearing my custom-made OHIO singlet, knowing full well this will elicit some specific cheers from the crowd (which "they" estimated around 750,000 that day, I think). "Go Ohio!" "Yeah Ohio!" "Hey, Ohio is a swing state!" I couldn't help myself when I heard a guy around mile 8 yell that, and I responded, "Your mom is a swing state." Yeah. I really said it.

Mile 10 comes and goes, and my body reminds me of my promise. As soon as I stop running, I start counting, to note how many seconds this lasts. When I hit 15 seconds, I've starting again. I'll double-check my splits after the race. And this is so wild because it feels like the miles are flying by.

Mile 14 is the infamous Wellesley Scream Tunnel. A thousand or more Wellesley College students screaming for and kissing (if accepted) the marathoners. It was deafening...and maybe a little annoying.

The Newton Hills (which culminate with Heartbreak Hill in mile 21) start around mile 16, and this is where my wife and our friends had planned to be on the course. I don't see them and continue to look for them at each subsequent mile. Having prepared to run hills, especially late in the race, I determine to make sure I'm actually running up them, even if it only feels like running. It's psychologically important for me to knock down some roadkill (a classy term for runners you pass during a race) on these hills.

Around mile 19, I let myself think about my friends and neighbors at the Rescue Mission because it is seven miles from my house, and I have just seven miles to the finish line.

By the time I near mile 20, I figure I'll just meet up with my crew at the finish line, that transportation was difficult, so I likely won't see anyone on the course. As I check my watch to see my overall pace and determine what the final 10k might look like, I hear someone shout, "Rick Blair!!!" And it's Cakes. And there's my wife holding up a sign that reads, "I love Rick!" And there's my friend Dave, shouting. Shouting? Dave? I've known Dave for more than 20 years, and I've never heard him shout. (He later tells me that he's been saving it up for that moment.) What a boost!

There is no sign indicating Heartbreak Hill, but when I'm halfway up what I believe is the legendary s.o.b., I think, "God, please let this be it. Because this just sucks." At the top I see a homemade sign: "You've reached the top of Heartbreak Hill." Hallelujah. I'm tired.

My prayer around mile 23 changes ever so slightly. "Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Thank you for that last mile. Give me strength in my legs and breath in my lungs to honor you with this next one. And oh s#%*, God, this is hard."

The famous Citgo sign is near Fenway Park and is the place where runners know they have just one more mile to run. The problem is that you can see it for a mile and a half before you actually reach it. Torture, but I keep pressing on. This landmark is also where it all sinks in, that I'm running the Boston Bleepin' Marathon. That I'm going to finish the Boston Bleepin' Marathon!

As I turn onto Boylston Street, I remember what Doug told me on Friday: "You're no long running; you're flying." And it's true.

Several people have asked me since then how I felt after finishing. The only honest answer is "Grateful."

Pre-race Inhale

Here we go:

Thursday before race day, and I was feeling antsy ("eager" may be a better word) on account of the end-of-training taper. As I'm packing for the fourth time to leave, the reality of running the Boston Marathon sweeps over me, and I need to sit down. Add to this the truth that this will be the most public marathon I have yet to run, with enormous interest from my community (due to the incredible coverage for the Mission Possible fundraiser), and the weight of it all stuns me. As I express this to my wife (who has learned and continues to learn how to deal with me leading up to a marathon) says, "Don't feel this as pressure. Feel it as people lifting you up, encouraging you." Duh! While this doesn't entirely alleviate the situation, I can at least function a bit better.

Friday morning, I go for a short run with my friend, a young fella who ran Boston in 2015. He gives me a couple pointers, namely, "Be patient at the beginning because it's crowded, but don't get stuck in the crowd." Afterward we talk briefly about the excitement and he hands me $26 for the Rescue Mission, saying, "A dollar per mile. I'm not giving you twenty cents because when you turn onto Boylston, you stop running. Now you're flying to the finish."

For lunch that day I've been invited by the Rescue Mission's director to the Kiwanis meeting. After eating, it's sprung on me that I'm one of the guest speakers. It's Jackie Robinson Day, and Jackie once said, "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives." That's my opening line. I then tell the story of gratitude, of my entry into (which loosely parallels to the grace offered through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus) and preparation for the Boston Marathon, of how Robinson's words speak to the importance of the work at the Rescue Mission. When I sit back down, one of my tablemates says, "Too bad you weren't prepared to speak," and I remember (again) God's promise to Moses in Exodus: "I will be with your mouth."

When my wife gets home from work, I'm packing for the fifth and final time. She tells me of a woman, Vera, with whom she works, that Vera called and said she wanted to donate to Mission Possible. My bride tells Vera to put it in an envelope and place that on her desk, that she'd retrieve it the following Wednesday. On our way out of town, we stop to get a coffee. Vera is inside the coffeeshop, a coffeeshop that is not in her neighborhood. She hands my wife some cash for the fundraiser. Details are important.

Fast-forward to Sunday when we ride the world famous Swan Boats, have lunch with some friends, and head to the race expo. As a Pittsburgh Pirates fan it was fun when, as soon as I received my bib number and race packet, I received notification that Andrew McCutchen had hit a home run. Later, my traveling companions and I walked down to the finish line, and I was honored to have them pray for me, the race as a whole, and the Rescue Mission. A true highlight.

Sunday's pre-race dinner: We had reservations at Ristorante Fiore in the North End of town and planned to meet our crew in the hotel lobby in order to make our way there. As my wife and I reached the lobby, I was surprised to see our very great friends (who live near Philadelphia)  who had made the trip to cheer me on the next day. All I could do was laugh...to tear, indeed.

In order to appreciate what happened during our meal, you have to understand that my wife has myriad anaphylactic food allergies. If she ingests certain foods, her airways will swell and she'll be unable to breathe. That said, when we go to restaurants with friends, she almost never (like 98% of the time) orders, opting instead to eat ahead of time or bring her own food. The potential danger isn't worth the risk.

And so, as our server took our orders, the only thing he wrote on his notepad was the foods to which my wife is allergic. In fact, when she told him her allergies would prevent her from ordering, he responded by asking, "How do I know whether or not we can help if we don't know the allergies?" He spoke directly with the chef and assured us that there was no possibility of cross-contamination with her meal. And so she ordered, confidently. And with great peace in her heart, she ate what she ordered. Details. God smiles on us, even in details.

Pre-race prayer at the Finish Line

The Words of Others

It's been quite a week around here. As noted in last week's post, I completed another decade on earth. Additionally, I started to taper (as you'll see in the training section today). I'm currently one week away from running the 120th Boston Marathon. And most importantly, the Mission Possible fundraiser hit (and then surpassed) the goal of $26,200 for the Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley. (As a fun side note, the day the fundraiser reached the goal, KISS announced a concert in my hometown.)

As a guy with a bachelor's degree in English, it should be no surprise that I turn to words for inspiration. And so I close this out with some of my recent favorites:

"If you don't have answers to your problems after a four-hour run, you ain't getting them." (Christopher McDougall)

"The reason we race isn't so much to beat each other,...but to be with each other." (Christopher McDougall)

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." (Haruki Murakami)

"I'm the type of person who doesn't  find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone,...to be neither difficult nor boring...[But] I learned the importance of being with others and the obvious point that we can't survive on our own." (Haruki Murakami)

"Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do." (C.S. Lewis)

"Running is not, as it so often seems, only about what you did in your last race or about how many miles you ran last week. It is, in a much more important way, about community, about appreciating all the miles run by others, too." (Richard O'Brien)

Monday: 2000-yard swim
Tuesday: 6.14 miles
Wednesday: 8.05 miles
Thursday: HIIT at BTF
Friday: 4.26 miles
Saturday: 10.16 miles
Total: 28.61 miles

Each year for my birthday, at my request, a friend of mine paints a bowling pin for me. Here's is this year's edition.

Obsession? You say that like it's a bad thing.

I've chronicled my early running days a couple times, how I was pretty sure I was going to die, that my legs were going to detach from the rest of my body, that I was probably asthmatic. In fact, I was sure that anyone who spoke of the "runner's high" was likely high themselves. The truth is that it took me nearly six excruciating months of consistent running (mostly on a treadmill because, well....vanity kept me indoors) before I would even come close to admitting liking it. As I've pointed out before, I couldn't string together two consecutive miles during my first run without dry heaving in my basement.

And here we are, over six years later. I'm training for my ninth marathon (THE marathon, at that), having, to date, raised over $25,000 for the Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley during the process, and it's funny the kinds of things people tell me. "You're an inspiration." "I admire your discipline." "Related comments." Truth be told, and I usually say it, I'm no inspiration, I'm just stubborn...and slightly obsessed. Rather than discipline, I'd say compulsion. Honestly, my mind would probably be a wreck if I didn't run. This doesn't mean I run every day, but I am always eager to run, plan a route, push the pace. And while I may not reach euphoria during every run, on a weekly basis I feel much better...about everything (yes, even the upcoming American presidential election...but maybe I'm being naive).

If you're interested in yet another funny, mindless internet quiz, take Buzzfeed's "How Much of a Running Nerd Are You." Maybe we can compare. I got "You're way into running...you're a runner, but you do/like other stuff in life, too. Congrats on the healthy moderation and balance!" My wife might be surprised.

Monday: 1200-yard swim and HIIT at Cakes' House
Tuesday: 6.13 miles
Wednesday: 10.06 miles
Thursday: HIIT at BTF
Friday: 3.03 miles
Saturday: 22.02 miles (see photo & caption)
Total: 41.24 miles

In order to celebrate my birthday this weekend, my lovely bride invited many of our friends to surprise me at the end of my long run. Thanks to her, especially, and all the other crazies who made signs and helped me close out another decade on Earth. Cheers.

Running is Strange

With three weeks from race day, I'm sort of at a loss this week. But something struck me after Saturday's long run (see below). It was odd, but for some reason completing twelve miles was more noteworthy than the previous week's twenty-miler. It's not that I felt better, was more or less prepared for one over the other, but when I got back in my car I thought, "Who would've thought I'd ever run twelve miles?" Yet that hadn't occurred to me after finishing twenty. Why was twelve more noteworthy? (I use "noteworthy" rather than another word because "significant" seems too grandiose.) I don't have an answer.

As race day draws closer, so does the completion of March Matching Madness and the Mission Possible fundraiser.  Thank you to all who have donated to the Rescue Mission. And to everyone, please take time to learn more about the work at the Mission and share what you learn with others.

Monday: 2400-yard swim
Tuesday: 8.12 miles
Wednesday: 8.01 miles
Thursday: HIIT at BTF
Friday: 4.44 miles
Saturday: 12.31 miles
Sunday: Rest
Total: 32.88 miles

This is after my wife and I finished the 2014 Chicago Half Marathon. We celebrated with some strange dance moves.

Points of Interest (and Maybe Contention)

The running community (at least in my experience with it) is filled with various controversies and points of contention. Stretching (I should do it, but tend to neglect it), strength and cross-training (I should do it, but tend to neglect it...although I've been better lately), toe shoes (the clock is ticking on this fad, thankfully), Dean Karnazes (sure, he's a publicity guy, but his book convinced me I could run a marathon), shorts length (the shorter, the better), the words "jogger" versus "runner" (I feel like I work to hard to be called a "jogger," thankyouverymuch), the book Born to Run (read it, loved it, recommend it), even listening to music while running.

It's this last one that gets me. Folks are impassioned about one side or the other. "I need my tunes." "I want to distract myself from the pain." "It pumps me up." "I keep a better cadence with the music." I understand all of these, and when I first started running I went through more pairs of earbuds than running shoes in two years. But after finishing my first marathon, for which I crafted the perfect playlist, I revisited the issue of music while running and came to a couple conclusions.

In order to understand my first conclusion, you have to understand that I'm both a huge fan of music and an amateur musician. I took my first piano lesson when I was six, my first upright bass lesson at the age of ten, met my wife in junior high orchestra, and skipped enough class freshman year of college to teach myself how to play guitar. And I've dragged plenty of people to see and hear plenty of rock and roll shows over the last 25 years. But I realized that by listening to music while running I was giving this music a different connotation, one that may not have thrilled me. "Such and such a song was playing while I ran up that torturous hill." "This other song was playing while I frantically sought an unlocked bathroom during a long run through the park." (This is not a song to help stem that urge.)

More importantly, though, was the issue raised in the "distraction" comment above. I simply didn't want to distract myself any longer. In fact, I preferred to learn the pain, to embrace the struggle, to forge ahead despite these things. So I hung up my earbuds and started paying attention. It would be a better story if I suddenly got much faster and more fleet of foot, but it would also be untrue. I haven't dramatically decreased speed, but I do enjoy running more. I love my local park more and take time to appreciate seeing wild turkeys during an early-morning long run. And maybe that hints at a larger issue: paying attention. So let me encourage you to pay attention, look around you, truly try to see people. It takes work. (Leaving my iPod home the first time was difficult.) But maybe you'll appreciate life around you that much more.

Monday: 2200-yard swim
Tuesday: 7.08 miles, 4 repeats
Wednesday: 8.28 miles
Thursday: HIIT at BTF
Friday: 3.08 miles
Saturday: 20.04 miles
Sunday: Rest
Total: 38.48 miles

With four weeks until the 2016 Boston Marathon and the conclusion of the Mission Possible fundraiser, we currently stand at just under $13,000! And that doesn't yet include the matching donations that I'm sure will reach $10,000 that will kick in at the end of the month. I'm filled with gratitude.

My most recent marathon, the Marshall University Marathon, November 2015

New Life

This week some very dear friends of ours had their first child (Chewie!) and this got me thinking about new life. Babies are fascinating creatures, fully human, yet entirely alien, and I won't spend long on this (at least here), but the newness of human life brims with hope, right? Isn't that partly why we love babies so much?

The notion of new life also got me reflecting on my life as a runner. Forgive me for repeating myself here, but of the known peak to valley weigh-ins, I've lost fifty pounds. In fact, we once hosted some friends for dinner, friends who did not know me prior to my running, and when seeing an old picture, Nick simply and pointedly asked, "What happened?" (He was reluctant to accept the equally simple answer, "Running," until our fellow friend, Cakes, placed my latest copy of Runner's World on the table and said, "Normal people don't have these lying around.") Before I started running and taking my fitness seriously, I was heading down a dangerous road, one potentially filled with a lifetime of physical ailments. I simply started running because, as my friend Will said, I "stepped on the scale and hit a personal best." And to quote yet another friend, C.S. Lewis, "What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step." So I kept taking steps and, frankly, began a new life.

Not long after I'd completed my first marathon, I saw my friend Ryan, a missionary in the Middle East. We hadn't seen each other for a couple years, and I was looking forward to talking with him about his work. But one thing I've learned about runners is they are happy to talk at length about running, for as long as the listener can stomach the topic. (For a funny read about this, please see "I'm Truly Sorry For This, Bur You're About to Hear All About the Last Marathon I Ran" from The Onion.) Instead of launching into a narrative about life in the Middle East, Ryan wanted to talk about running, his favorite routes, his running goals for the year, an upcoming 10k, and he wanted to hear about my marathon experience. It was a funny moment, one in which I was happy to indulge him. But the thing I'll always remember about that conversation is, as we discussed our lives before running, particularly our psychological lives, Ryan articulated a great truth: "Jesus Christ saved my soul, but running saved my life." Perfect.

And so here I am, several years and thousands of miles later, training for another marathon. Quite possibly the biggest of my life. Praying for my friends, for my family, for my neighbors, for a tailwind and temperatures in the low 40s on April 18. Seeing the fundraiser climb closer and closer to the goal of $26,200 for the Rescue Mission. And as I breathe in, I exhale, "Thank you."

Monday: Rest (Can you blame me after Sunday's 20, which included the toughest half marathon I've ever run?)
Tuesday: 8.03 miles
Wednesday: 8.02 miles
Thursday: 2000-yard (just over 1 mile) swim
Friday: 4.37 miles
Saturday: 12.30 miles
Total: 32.72 miles

Kalamazoo Marathon, May 2015.

Enjoying a special brew from Arcadia Ales, this was my worst marathon to date due, in part, to unexpected high temperatures. In fact, I considered giving up marathoning after this one. My bride, my biggest fan, never believed I'd quit. She was right.

Mission Possible

Late last week, my friend Lynn from the Rescue Mission asked if I would provide a short video explaining the fundraiser and March Matching Madness. I knew I couldn't simply be a talking head, so this is what we came up with. (Thanks to CAR, Narp, and the Hobbit for your help.)

Pivots

When he was starting his first business, my friend (let's call him Yo) told me about "pivots," the idea that businesses and product development have only so many pivots or iterations. The viability of the business or idea is expressly related to its pivots, whether or not it can survive to market. But why am I even talking about this?

I have met a number of people in my short running life who recognize their pivot points. In fact, I, myself, can relate to the idea of changing course in the name of survival. Recently I received a letter from a young man who has what he calls a "miracle heart." He writes that while he loves running, he is unable to push beyond short distances at this time. He sees his pivot and adjusts accordingly. (He wrote to me in order to contribute to the Rescue Mission fundraiser. And as a further side note, his junior high history teacher was my junior high history teacher and my first little league coach!)

Yesterday I met another man (named Corey) who just started exercising regularly in December and has already completed a number of 5k races. He was proud to tell me that he's already lost over twenty pounds and to share his PR, noting that the race he was about to run would be the toughest yet on account of the hilly course. As we talked about running, I recalled running the first Panerathon when I learned about the congeniality of the running community. No, not congeniality, but inclusive. Runners, as a whole, welcome and encourage one another. We know the difficulty of our sport, remember the trials we've faced along the course, and want to see others succeed and enjoy running for its own sake. We see the pivots and take them. And sometimes we need help.

Training:

Monday: 2000-yard swim
Tuesday: 5.03 miles
Wednesday: 7.25 miles
Thursday: XT @ BTF, with my bride
Friday: 3 miles
Saturday: Rest
Sunday: 20.24 miles (split 4 warm-up, 13.22 Mill Creek Distance Classic, 3.01 cool-down)
Total: 35.52 total miles run

Thunder Road Marathon, Charlotte, NC, November 2014

March Matching Madness (Please don't sue me, NCAA.)

Let's start with some numbers:

• The Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley will celebrate its 123rd birthday this year. (Incidentally, this year will be the 120th running of the Boston Marathon.)
• RMMV's doors are open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year (yes, 366 this year).
• From 10/1/14-9/31/15, RMMV served 230,315 meals.
• That same fiscal year saw 47,657 overnight stays.
• The average number of people sleeping at the RMMV is 120-150 people per night. 
• The RMMV's annual budget of just over $2,000,000 is provide solely by private donations.
• 79% of those donations go directly to clients, meaning RMMV maintains very little in overhead costs.

Please consider these very real statistics as you give and share this fundraising campaign.

And speaking of the Mission Possible campaign, I have some exciting news. First, I have raised my goal to $26,200. If you have already contributed, thank you, and know there is nothing stopping you from giving again (and again and again, as you are moved to give). Second, March Matching Madness. I have (thus far) recruited three households who will each match March's total donations, up to $2500! With seven weeks until race day, this is a huge encouragement to me personally, but also an enormous blessing to the Rescue Mission, its staff, volunteers, and clients. I am beyond thrilled about this development in the fundraising campaign. If you are willing and able to join March's matching donors (even if not for the full $2500), please don't hesitate to contact me about that. You could even assemble to team of people to be part of the the matching campaign.

Finally, this week's training log. Things shifted a little out of necessity, but this will all see familiar.

Monday: XT at the House of Cakes

Tuesday: 8.04 miles

Wednesday: 8.02 miles

Thursday: XT @ BTF!

Friday: 4.39 miles

Saturday: Rest

Sunday: 12.06 miles

Total: 32.51 miles

February's mileage: 131 miles

Indianapolis Monumental Marathon, November 2013

Community 2.0

This is what I ran on for 18 miles this morning--equal parts snow, ice, and slush. This is exhausting, and my running buddy noted that on days like this you don't worry about perfect form. Earlier this week we got over a foot of fresh snow. And a week ago, as noted previously, the wind chill factor dipped to -12 degrees. This morning? I started running around 7:15, and the temperature was 45, on its way to a high in the 60s. Welcome to northeast Ohio, I guess.

I include a picture of this trail, though, because at the end of this arduous run, my feet were cold and wet. (At one point a tractor was parked on the trail, and in order to avoid it I had to run through six inches of freezing, muddy water.) This, in turn, reminded me of a conversation I once had with a homeless man who said one of the things he most covets is fresh, dry socks. Seriously. That's humbling because I have more than one drawer filled with clean socks, some I haven't worn in a year or more! And I barely think twice about it. (I really ought to carry a bag of them in my car to give away.)

In Life of the Beloved, Henri Nouwen writes (to his friend), "You live in New York. I live in Toronto. As you walk down Columbus Avenue and I down Yonge Street, we can have no illusions about the darkness. The loneliness, the homelessness, and the addictedness of people are all too visible. Yet all of these people yearn for a blessing. That blessing can be given only by those who have heard it themselves." And later, "Our humanity comes to its fullest bloom in giving. We become beautiful people when we give whatever we can give: a smile, a handshake, a kiss, an embrace, a word of love, a present, a part of our life...all of our life." Don't you see, friends, you and I have so very much. We have been blessed. Simply, I have a drawer filled with socks that I've all but forgotten about. And all people really want is a blessing. Not a handout. But to know they are loved. You are loved. You can (and should) love.

Some of my training got shifted a bit this week on account of the snow. But here's how it went.

Monday: Cross-train
Tuesday: Rest (which included clearing driveways)
Wednesday: 6.02 miles, repeats
Thursday: HIIT at Body Temple Fitness, yo! + 7.26 miles
Friday: 3.02 miles
Saturday: 18.01 miles
Total: 34.31 miles

To date, you've helped me raise $7384 for the Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley! And I cannot thank you enough for your encouragement and support. Please feel free to share the fundraising campaign with your friends and family.

Pittsburgh Marathon, 5/5/2013

Community

My Canadian friend uses words like "crusty" and "misanthropic" to describe me, words that I appreciate and embrace. The truth is, if given the choice I would likely hole up somewhere with some books, some music, and a very limited number of my favorite people, rarely going out in public to engage with the world. This is, in part, why another friend (let's call him "Narp") asked me why I choose to run with other people, why I continue to invite others along for training runs.

While there are different answers to this ("Speed work is easier with someone else;" "When long runs get difficult, another person takes your mind off of your own pain;" "Share the suffering.") the simple response is "I must." Something very natural happens when running with a buddy. Inhibitions break down, and truth (sometimes very ugly truth) surfaces. Narp ultimately recognizes this--that sharing physical suffering leads to broken inhibitions, leads to direct community where the participants celebrate a good effort after commiserating over terrible discomfort. 

And this is what happened to me yesterday as I ran with yet another friend, Frodo. The weather was cold, windy, snowy. (Although I recently read a statement that I'm adopting: "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.") And we had to cover 14 miles, with consistent hill climbs. Frodo and I complained to one another, urged one another on, swore under our breaths (at times at one another), and then rejoiced when we finished tormenting ourselves. This is community.

And this is another reason the Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley is so important to me. As I've mentioned before, RMMV is only seven short miles from my home. The men, women, and children who work, volunteer, and reside at the Mission are my neighbors. They are my friends. They are my brothers and sisters. They seek to help, not simply to give a hand out but to give a hand, to encourage a "new way for a better tomorrow." On any given Sunday at their chapel service, I hear men and women alike giving thanks for each other, for the friends they've made there, knowing that it is within community that they are healed. If you're interested, check out their blog.

Training:
Monday: Swimming
Tuesday: 4.37 miles (temp run)
Wednesday: 7.07 miles
Thursday: Swimming
Friday: 4.08 miles
Saturday: Rest (It was -12 degrees with the wind chill. Too cold even for me!)
Sunday: 13.88 miles
Total: 29.4 miles, nine weeks to race day

To date, you've helped me raise nearly $6000 for RMMV. That equates to nearly 3000 meals! Thank you. Won't you help me reach (and even surpass) my goal of $10,000 by sharing this fundraising campaign with friends and family? 

Post-race hug with my bride at the 2012 Columbus Marathon (#3)

Welcome Back

It's been so long, dear readers, that it will be virtually impossible for me to catch up on the details. Since my last running post, I've completed seven more marathons, several half marathons, and covered thousands more miles. In fact, in total miles, I've covered the distance between Los Angeles and New York City more than twice since then. But that's not why you're here. You're here for a story.

In October of 2015, my lovely bride and I decided to join some friends on a trip to Boston to cheer on our mutual friend (one of the toughest guys I know) as he runs the Boston Marathon. (If that doesn't mean much to you, see here, here, or here to read why it's such a big deal.) After deciding the four of us would make the trip, my friend (let's call him "Cakes") casually says, "I have a working relationship with some people at John Hancock (the title sponsor of the Boston Marathon). I wonder if we could get you in."

I looked Cakes in the eye. And walked away.

Let's be clear about something: I'm a realist. Well, about most things, but especially about running. I know my own marathon PR (3:58, twice) and that in order to qualify for Boston (yes, you have to post a qualifying time in order to get in. The Tough Guy posts sub-3 hour marathons in his sleep), I'd have to drop nearly 45 minutes from that. And so I figured if I ever wanted to qualify, I'd need to get much faster in a relatively short amount of time or maintain the same pace for another 40 years. (For you fact-checkers, I'd have to keep the same pace for another 25 years, but that doesn't seem nearly as dramatic or funny.) In short, I never really dreamed about running Boston. I just want to keep running marathons as long as I'm alive and healthy (see this guy for inspiration), even if it takes 8 hours. But Boston?! My brain couldn't even process the possibility.

And what does Cakes do (without my request or prodding, I should add)? The very next day he sends me a screenshot of an email response he'd already received from someone at John Hancock about getting me a fundraising waiver number. "Thanks, Cakes, but please don't send me any more updates because my next marathon is this Sunday, and I need to get my head straight before I can even think about this."

For now, I'll gloss over completing my 8th marathon and say that 8 days after Cakes initially makes his preposterous proposition, I receive an email. "Welcome to the 2016 John Hancock Boston Marathon Invitational Program!" Whaaaaaat?

Now it's my turn to share some screenshots. In the flurry of excitement, one friends simply points me to Psalm 37:4. The crazy thing is (and as I hope I made clear above), I've never imagined I'd run the Boston Marathon. How could this be considered the "desire of my heart"? But my friend is right. The opportunity to run this race is a blessing, one I have to delight in and take seriously.

That is why, faithful readers, I am working hard (thanks to a revamped training plan by my brother-in-law Bungo) to cover the miles. And that is why I have chosen to raise money for the Rescue Mission of the Mahoning Valley. I'll tell you more about the RMMV in the coming weekly blog posts, but know that this place, while so very much more than a simple homeless shelter or soup kitchen, feels like home to me. The residents, academy members, volunteers, and staff are my friends and neighbors. To date, a little more than 4 weeks into the fundraising campaign, we've raised over 50% of the $10,000 goal!

If you'd like to contribute to the campaign, you can donate at my CrowdRise page or send a check directly to the Rescue Mission with "RB to Boston" in the memo line. Thank you in advance for your donation.

Here's my mileage for the week:

Monday- 4.38
Tuesday- 5.02
Wednesday- 7.27
Thursday- 1-mile swim
Friday- 3.1
Saturday- 15.06
Total: 34.83 miles

This is a picture after my second marathon, the Canton Marathon, from Father's Day 2012.