The record companies are struggling to find their way in this modern world. Their business model is old and outdated, and the bloat of their own selves is choking them. They are barely holding on, and want little more than to either roll back time, to a better day (for them), or force their business model to still somehow work (which goes against the whole “the government is of the people, by the people, for the people” thing.)

The guy with the guitar, playing on the corner with his hat on the ground, is in the music business. He is creating content, has found an outlet, and it making money. While he makes new content, he has a reasonable chance to make money. When he stops, well, those memories linger for only so long, as do the chances of his being compensated by fans.

Sure, long ago, record labels played a key role in connecting musicians to fans. They provided that service, of funding the recording, of distribution, of getting the music to the point of sale. But wordpress and other free web hosting sites do that now, too, and they do it for free. That exclusive service that the record companies provided, well, it’s not so exclusive any more. The music industry is still thriving, people are still making great music and are being compensated for it — it’s just the record labels that are being left by the side of the road.

And I’m OK with that. Musicians that generate good content will get my sales, generally, be it on a CD, or a DRM-restricted format like in iTunes, or free and clear MP3’s that they release to the world.

It’s been good to be back with the family. Back in the routine. Nights of taekwondo, trips to the library, making dinner and torturing the kids asking the kids to empty the dishwasher. Reading books, enjoying the glory of Jon Stewart on TiVo (By Yemen!), and getting ice cream from the freezer after the kids are asleep — some are the great things of being with family, some are the great things of being here and not in Iraq.

As for what we’ve been up to, well, the answer is Not much. Kristin quilts, the kids read when they can’t be entertained by something electronic, and I run.

Yes, I still run. I ran about 170 miles this month, and a hair shy of 50 this week (49 and some change). I made runs that ranged from 2.5 miles, to 18 miles. I ran loops and trails and sidewalks and roads, in the sunlight and in the dark, in good weather and bad — well, bad by Hawaiian standards, not bad as in, say, Wisconsin this time of year. I ran loaded to the gills with gear, but I also made runs with shoes and shorts and an iPod. I’ve run up hills, through the jungle, and across pineapple fields.

And through it all, it’s been great. With all the changes in my life this month — being home, being back with the family, going back to work, etc — the stress would surely be taking more of a toll on me if I wasn’t running for distance, and if I wasn’t enjoying my time of solitude.

I have always struggled with reintegrating into my home life, after being gone. This time, though, things seem to be going differently, and I think the running is a huge part of that. I’m thankful my family is supporting me and my little hobby, as I think they see and appreciate the dividends that are coming from it.

I’m not sure what February will bring. We’ll see. Time to go start my weekend, though, and see what mischief the kids are causing.

1. Dress appropriately. Good grief, Charlie Brown — so many terrible accidents could be prevented if people would just learn to dress appropriately for the conditions. That shirt can come off it’s too hot, and with that color, it can be left just about anywhere on this island and it will be perfectly camouflaged — perfect for stashing and retrieving later. And those long baggy shorts? It things just get out of hand, they’d be perfect for going commando.

2. Wear comfortable shoes. If you can, well, go barefoot. But if you’re going to be someplace adventurous, or some place where their might be sharp rocks or something, at least bring them along in case no one is looking and you want to wear them for a little bit. It’s best if they’re small and lightweight, so if you see someone, you can take them off quickly and chuck them.

3. Prepare for the worst weather imaginable. Really. Because you never know when mother nature is going to rise up and try to smite everyone. There’s nothing worse than feeling a little bit chilly, when it like drops down into the high 70’s or something crazy like that, and you slip up and say something. Or if it rains, and it gets in your eyes and stuff.

4. Bring life sustaining nourishment with you. You never know where or when you might get stuck, and there’s nothing worse than being without in a time of need.

5. Pack enough, in case you’re stuck for a while. It’s easy to think that nothing bad will happen, or if it does happen, that everything will be ok soon enough. But really, you could be stuck somewhere for a while — pack enough.

6. Do what you can to prepare for a rescue. The time to think through these worst case situations is before they happen, not after. If you’re really in a jam, you’re going to want to be ready to help out your rescuers when they do get to you.

7. Plan for what you’d do if you were without power for a long period of time. Losing power can bring that sense of helplessness — what do I do now? Who will look after my crops in Farmville?

8. Plan for back up communications. If your cable goes down, how will you update your status? Know which neighbors have open WiFi, and for those that don’t, crack their WEP ahead of time, before you need it. Because who wants to go all the way to Starbucks for WiFi?

Do this, and you should be able to survive the worst that Hawai’i has to offer. I think the kids and I will be rehearsing this all weekend long.

I noticed that my shoes are starting to show their age. The wife and I have been debating how best to get them into and through the washing machine, without killing the shoes or, more importantly, the machine or anything in the load with it. But sitting there, enjoying sole quiet time in the isolation of a lovely morning on Oahu, I could see that, literally, my shoes are starting to some apart at the seams.

It’s bad enough that my shoes stink to high holy hell. They really do. I don’t dare bring them in the house, but keep them in the backyard. I think they’re part of the reason the grass has grown greener in that part of the yard, too. There’s no animal life in that part of the yard anymore, and we had to move the swing set because the daughter (who loves the swings) had started to grow a third arm. But still, we don’t smell them much, though when you get close to them, there’s no missing them.

The shoes are only starting to come apart. Trust me, I have no plans to retire them early. There’s at least one hole in the fabric, likely from getting snagged on something on a run through the jungle here. Of course, if asked, I would not hesitate to tell my son that it was from a wild boar. And where the rubber-like-material that forms the sole, folds over the toes and fastens, well, it’s starting to peel away on one shoe.

The shoes, they’re just a little tired.

Now, if you asked Nike, they’d surely tell you that running in these shoes today was near-criminal in action. They and the other shoe companies would like you to buy new running shoes every 300 miles, or 3 months, or perhaps every three runs, depending on which one comes first (the first two are actually true). But these are the folks who want me to pay extra for arch support I don’t need, for protection from overpronation when it’s never been a problem for me, and a big and super-cushiony sole that really does nothing for me.

And as I sat there, looking at the shoes and their emerging bits of charm and character, I began to wonder — just how many miles have I put on these shoes? I think I started wearing this set just as I started my training for the marathon — so, I probably started to use them around the start of August. And the training plan for the marathon — I know I am suppose to have several sets of shoes, and I know I am suppose to alternate them, etc., but I never do — that was a 460 mile training plan. So, by now, I’ve probably put 500 miles on these shoes.

And no, I am not about to retire them. They are fine and functional, though smelly. A wash and they should be good for a good bit more. They should be good for another 100 or 200 more miles, I would think. But how long is that? When do I need to start thinking about new shoes.

Really, the question is — how much am I going to be running this year?

Well, the Army is going to make me run 5 days a week. Or it’ll try. The Army is big on running — it likes it, it loves it, it wants more of it. The Army would be thrilled if I did 5 miles a day, 5 days a week.

No, really. I’m not kidding. The Army would think of me as its proud son if I did that. Push-ups, sit-ups, and running, every weekday. I do cheat and add in some swimming these days, but only because I have time after the running and before I have to be in the office (there are showers at the pool, so I can swim and get clean).

So, that’s 25 miles a week. And on the weekends, I am trying to get out and run and explore and see the hidden beauty of Oahu. Half-marathon distances are my comfort zone. Yes, that really is 13+ miles. Let’s call it 15.

And then there may be times when I run a lot more. Sure, I may slack some weeks — I am an underachiever, after all — but if I decide to train for a marathon or some other sort of longish run, well, that’ll mean more miles.

40 miles a week, 52 weeks a year? I suppose it’s true — I really could run 2000 miles in the year.

If I were a racer, and not a runner, I would probably be worried about swapping out shoes every 300 miles. I’d want them to be fresh and perfect and ready for speed and crap like that. But I’m not. I’m a runner. I run. I get there when I get there, with a goal of enjoying the run. not that it’s ended.

So, I will put off buying new shoes for a few more weeks. Honestly, I’ll probably pick some up in a month or so, but stick them up on a shelf — break glass in case of emergency. And I’ll probably keep pounding away on these ones, because really, I like these shoes, and I love that I’ve had such great adventures in them. Why would I ever want to see them go?

Getting ready for the Honolulu Marathon, for me, was less about the marathon itself and more about the running. I ran in Iraq, I ran in Hawai’i, I ran in Oregon and even some up in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead. I ran and ran and ran, mainly to deal with the stress of being either in Iraq, or of coming home and trying to adjust to something of a normal life.

But that was then. That was what got me to the marathon two weeks ago. I am soooooo past that now.

Now, I want to see Oahu.

So I am making plans. At the library last week, I picked up and spent some time flipping through A Runners Guide to O’ahu. When I saw it on the shelf, I thought just for a moment that it might be just what I needed. Well, it wasn’t, but it was a good start. It seems more focused on the running than on the island — and I want to see the island and all her beauty, using runs as the means.

With a little help from Google Earth and the wife, I have a small list of places to go and runs to see. And I am sure that list will grow and change over the coming year. I have no idea how many runs I will make, or how many places I will visit, or how well I will do blogging it all. But I’ll give it a short. There’s just too much on this island to see, too many places of such amazing beauty.

I’ll probably write them up as best I can, to post here on the site. I need to think through some of the basic things I will need to cover about every run — where to park, how to rate them, etc. I should be able to provide GPS data for them all, since I tend to run with my Garmin. And I should be able to make a Google Earth file for each on, too, to share more information as well. So far, I’ve started to play with the EveryTrail site (my stuff is here), to see how best to represent the data and fuse the GPS data to the photos. I may put some of the stuff onto that site as well, and talk about it on Facebook, too, but will likely try to point folks here to this address.

A year from now, I hope to have collected the information that I was hoping to find this month. I want to run trails and valleys, ridges and bike paths. I want to see the many facets of the island, her beauty and her various climates, and find a way to tell others about them while encouraging people to get out and run for the fun and adventure of it. Who knows, maybe I’ll have some luck with it. And who knows, maybe I’ll package it all up in a year and port it to the Kindle or something.

At some point, I’ll probably post my running ideas; I’m still working up that list. By all means, chime in if there are things that you think are worth seeing or visiting on a run.

That week, I ran 15.15 miles, and averaged a pace of about 8:45 minutes per mile. All told, I did 69 other training runs, leading up to the marathon today. Of the 461 miles in the training plan, I managed to do 459 of them — I did not do the two miles on this past Thursday, when I flew from Lake Arrowhead home to Oahu (and I had missed one other run, due to an injury, but I had dutifully made up the miles that week). For those 459 miles, I averaged a pace of 9:37 minutes per mile, and I averaged over 6 and a half miles per run for those 70 runs. These past two weeks, when I was in the mountains and snow of Lake Arrowhead, were when I had my slowest average page: 11:37 and then 11:23 per mile, with every other week averaging between 8:42 and 9:44 per mile. Doing it all, I sprained my ankle 4 times.

I never really looked at all those numbers until now. It seems like a lot. Driving 459 miles would be a long day. Often, running six miles feels like a lot — all the more so when I am not running a lot or training like this. And 4 ankle sprains? I don’t think I had sprained my ankle that much over the past 20 years combined. And while an average pace of 9:37 minutes per mile is nothing to write home about, it’s pretty close to the pace I ran today — 10:37.

And I guess the thing that really strikes awe in me, for all of this, is that I ran a lot of this in Iraq, did more in Hawaii, and then did some both in Eugene (aka Track Town, USA) and at Lake Arrowhead. I went from running at night in the deserts of Iraq, to running through the pineapple fields on Oahu, to running through history in Eugene, to stomping through ankle deep snow up and down the quad-runner trails that covers the ridges near Lake Arrowhead. In 4 months of running, I’ve sure covered the globe pretty well, and covered most every type of running, from roads to trails, from flat to steep, from desert climate to snow.

And while this may not seem like a big deal to you, it is to me: I ran low tech. In Iraq, I wore my Army PT uniform. No special tops, no special shorts or running pants. I didn’t carry water or gel packs or fancy jelly beans, but relied on water points from the around the base to keep hydrated. I can think of only one time — the 18 mile run I did here on Oahu — where I stopped for Gatorade during the run, and that was because it was cheaper than water to buy on base. I ran — and in the most unfancy ways I could.

During all this, I used one pair of running shoes. That might not seem like a noteworthy thing, but the officials at Nike and Brooks and all of the other running shoes would want me to believe that I need new shoes every 300 miles. Well, I’m just not believing that. I’m not some high tech racer, some modern day Ferrari in Nikes. I am a runner, and I run. I’d just as soon take off barefoot and in shorts, to run down a deer, as I would take off to run across the island to my office. Super high tech anything would be, I fear, just lost in my running.

And in August, I weighed 214 lbs. Today, when I got home from the marathon, I weighed 202. I am happy being anywhere in that range. I really don’t care what the number is (and while it’s in that range, the Army doesn’t care either). What I do love and care about is the feeling of strength that I get when I am running often and farther. I feel ready for the world at times like now.

Also, I love how this much running has made me feel. For as crazy as Iraq was during those last months, with a new job and the IBOL project on top of trying to go home and reintegrate with my family, I can’t think of a bad day. Endorphins are an amazing thing. My stress has been under control. My PTSD has been under control. I feel good, life is going well and is under control, and I am happy with where I am in life. And that’s the influence of the running, of the preparations I made for this marathon.

If you’ve read the book, Born to Run, then maybe this will make sense: I’ve been chasing a deer. I’ve been running for fun, not for speed or anything else. No carrying water, not eating along the way, not using fancy high tech stuff — it’s been about reaching down deep inside, and finding me by running. And I would not trade that for the world.

I have been so unfocused on the training part of all this, that it probably could be called something other than training. I’ve just been running — while also following some guidelines for distances. I’ve had more fun getting out and putting in the miles, without care or regard for times or intervals or pace or personal records. Running in Iraq at night gave me time alone, to clear my thoughts and let my mind wander. And it led me to IBOL — which was a great part of my 2009. I spent the summer, fall and now winter investing in running, and looking back at how my year in Iraq ended, with work and IBOL and a great return home to my family, I would have to say that it was a hell of an investment; a little less sleep gave me some great dividends.

Anyway, enough with all that. Poor Jack has been suffering through all this, trying to get to the part where I talk about the actual race event, so he can decide whether to add Honolulu to his 2010 Marathon plan.

This is the second marathon that I have run. I’ve also run some half marathons, too. There are a few things about Honolulu that make this race noteworthy.

1. Egads, it’s beautiful. From running along the Pacific, to coming around Diamond Head, to zipping through both Honolulu and Waikiki, it’s a great place to go running.

2. Wow, it’s flat. If you’ve never run one before, this would make for a fine first marathon.

3. The people are great. It’s a wonderful social event, with folks dressed as Yoda and Darth Vader, Minnie Mouse, brides, etc. And at something like 20,000 runners, it’s a big happy crowd.

4. The race organizers love the military. I’ll be honest — this marathon is expensive (registration started at over $100, and late registration the day prior was $225). But they cut us slack, not just with the late registration but also with the super-awesome registration fee of just $30 for active duty military. Saving 85% on the registration price was a nice, nice thing.

5. If you have to go somewhere for a marathon, Hawai’i is a damn fine place to go. We’ve had wonderful weather this week (though it’s rained the past two years), and I can’t recommend enough coming to Hawai’i — to run a marathon or just for vacation.

One bummer, though, is that the race starts at 0500 / 5 AM. Which means getting into Honolulu by 3 or 4. Being active duty military, the race registration folks had advised me to go to the Hale Koa hotel in Waikiki, and park there. The Hale Koa is an Army hotel right on the beach, and they have a nice parking garage there that cost me all of $12 to park while I did all of the marathon events. Yeah — $12. Nice. I loved that. That raised the total cost of the marathon to $42 for me — about as awesome as they come. Anyway, I snuck into the parking garage at about 3 AM, geared up (iPod, Garmin Forerunner 305, military ID, car key, and a spare $20) and then headed to the starting point.

The starting area is on the road outside of the Ala Moana Shopping Center, across from the Ala Moana State Recreation Area (which is really just a nice, big park). The park featured the all-important banks of porta potties, which had a near non-stop line right up the start of the race. The race folks had marked off sections for folks to stage, based upon expected finish times. Which was nice, until abut 10 minutes before the start when everyone crunched forward. See video of the staging, here. See the video of the fireworks, here.

And by the time I started to run, of course, I had to pee. I had to make the 2 or 3 mile look around Honolulu and back to the start line, before I could peel off and use those same porta-potties. And by the time the race had started, I felt a) tall and b) Caucasian. The race is sponsored by Japan Airlines (JAL), and the race does cater to a lot of visitors coming from Japan — so much so that the race has two websites, one for US / other, and one for Japan.

It wasn’t just that folks came from Japan to run, or that they came with travel groups / through travel agencies. A saw whole packs of folks, lining up together, staging together, with matching additional stuff on their shirts or just plain matching shirts. My favorites were the packs of runners I ran into later — a gaggle of 30-something-ish ladies, running as a pack, with someone out front – maybe their coach, maybe their tour guide, maybe both. All, though, looked to behaving fun, which I thought was awesome.

It was good that we had started so early. Though it was dark, it did set a nice setting for the start — which featured a fireworks display over just a starter’s pistol. It made for lousy photos, but hey — small price to pay.

The run really was uneventful. I tended to let my mind wander, though I was listening to music the whole time. Nice and pretty, without too much elevation change. And yes, folks were dressed crazy, which was pretty cool. But mostly it was just a very nice run. When we started, it was in the low 70’s, though it was likely closer to 80 when I finished. I walked through every water point, which were about every two miles until near the end, when they were every mile. I mostly had two cups of water at each water point; once I had half a banana, and once I had 7 jelly bellies that some nice lady was dispensing. But mostly I ran and let my mind wander where it may.

I was, though, the little social butterfly. I ran into a few folks from work; a bunch of us from the staff had decided to train up and do this, some (like me) doing it solo, but one big clump doing it with the lawyers.

And you know how Superman has his kryptonite? And Samson lost all his powers when his hair was cut? I was on track to do about a 4:30 marathon (10 minute miles, or about the same as I did in Luxembourg a few years ago) when my enemies massed their forces and resources, and deployed a keg to the race course. Damn them! Not only did I get beer, but I got only a little beer initially, so I had to go back and correct them on what it means to run a beer point during a very serious race like this. And I had to take a photo, too.

There’s something wrong with being middle aged, and 20 miles into a marathon, and considering doing a keg stand, just because it’d be a hell of a photo opportunity. Looking back now, I wish I had. Instead, I opted just for the standard photo with the ubiquitous red cups — the only thing keeping it from being a great party was that we were out in front of their house, and not in their kitchen.

10 days in Eugene sure did wonders for that. It was fantastic — a great chance to clear my head, think about the world and life and the things most important to see, while also reconnecting with the wife and kids.

But the kids needed to get back for school, so I’ve come here, to escape from it all some more. Hanging out with my father in law, and running some. I’m earning my keep by helping with drywall and the laundry list of tech support issues around the bachelor mountain pad.

The view from the house. What's not to love?

Did I mention the view? Lovely, isn’t it? I could just sit and stare for days on end. I’ve arrived just after some nasty weather had rolled through over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. The snow lingers on the ground, the air is cool but not too cold, the sky is clear and the stars are about as bright as can be. Being here, and listening to the speech from President Obama, I had to wonder if mountainous views are my true calling.

And did I mention the running? The Honolulu Marathon is on 13 DEC, just a couple of days after I am due to leave here. After my long 20 mile run right after we landed in Eugene (the next day, actually), I am tapering. Which for me means less miles. I’ve gone from 40 mile weeks, to this week (21 total) as I work down to next week and running just 9 miles ahead of the marathon.

But I can’t come to the mountains and expect to run on flat terrain. Part of the fun of it all is the running and exploration and adventure of getting out and about, to see things. And a wee bit of it is about the challenges of running here — at 5500 feet elevation, in the cold, with snow on the ground and mud everywhere as snow melts.

Tuesday I did my prescribed 4 miles. Not having any idea what I was just, I just went out the front door, down the street to the end, and I took a right. A bit later, was passing this little ditty:

The roadsign said it was 3W12, and was for approved off road vehicles but not cars.

I’m unsure if the photo really captured how steeply this path heads up. It’s about half the width of a car, it’s all mud, and it’s steep. I made a mental note of the 3W12 name on the sign, and I headed further on down the road. The road ended at a water processing plant, but I headed further on down the road on what was likely a fire trail. My little 4 mile jaunt included just 341 feet of ascent and 571 feet of descent.

So on Tuesday, I headed back to go see what this 3W12 thing was all about. FIL said that it was one of a number of ATV and quad-friendly trails in the area, which sounded especially good for a Wednesday morning run (really, what ATV / quad driver would be out and about on the mountainside on a Wednesday morning?) Six miles was the plan, and whoooo doggie, was it a great six miles.

How good? Well, for starters, I averaged 12 minutes per mile, when I normally do about 9:15 or 9:30 per mile on these medium to longer runs. An hour and 11 minutes to do what I would otherwise have done in, say, 56 or 57 minutes.

It was 833 feet of ascent, and 1025 feet of descent — 1855 feet of elevation change, in 6 miles. I did do six mile runs in Iraq, that had less than 100 feet of elevation change. My 18 mile run in Hawaii had just 2600 feet of elevation change, when I ran up the mountain to my new office — three times as many miles, but a little over 1.5 times as much elevation change.

3W12 is pretty steep, it turns out.

But, I hope you’ll agree, it’s scenic and awesome. If mud and snow and puddles and steep trails work for you. They do for me. I love this stuff.

It would be snowy and muddy and steep. And then it would get snowier, and muddier, and steeper. I was plugging away as best I could, picking up one foot and putting it down again and again. The altitude and the thin air did make it hard as hell to hold anything close to a normal rhythm, so I’d slow down enough so that I could keep running without having to stop. When I did stop, it was to take photos.

I’d get to places like this, and look out over the lands. I’d try to spot where the other trails were, and see if I could figure out how to get there. When it’s a really long run, that’s great. When it’s just six miles, it’s dangerous — if I’m not careful, I’ll tell myself it’s OK to just go on to that next peak, that next hill, that next trail, and before I know it, I’m trying to figure out the absolutely shortest route back.

Coming back down was pretty slick and muddy. I don’t think these photos, especially this one, really capture just how steep this trail could be. Oh, I’m sure it’d be great fun on an ATV or quad-runner, but for running, it was high adventure trying to make it back down this without having a yardsale of me and my running gear all over the hillside.

Thursday, I went back out and found a different ATV / quad trail in the area (3W13), and knocked out my three miles for the day. Wonderful day, a bit cooler than the other days, but great running. Three miles, and over 1000 feet of elevation change.

But yes, I am tapering. This weekend, I am suppose to run 8, which I look forward to doing. I’ve been peeping at Google Earth, at where I’ve run and where else I can run in the area. 8 miles — that could be some good exploring!

I came to Oregon with my family, to spend the Thanksgiving holiday time period with family and friends, to decompress some after Iraq, and to get away. But I also came here to run. Since 11 August, I’ve been running 4 times a week and at increasing distances, all in preparation for the upcoming Honolulu Marathon. But it’s been more than that — the running, and this trip. I’m running to find myself, and I’m finding myself running.

Early in life, I wasn’t a runner. I swam like a fish, I played soccer when I could, I loved to ski. Running came late to me, when I started this demanding relationship with the Army and like a trying girlfriend, the Army said I ought to get out and run some, maybe lose a few pounds, add some plaid shirts to my wardrobe, comb my hair differently. And so I ran. Some.

In 2002, I was injured. Nothing too serious — I just couldn’t run for a few years. Well, I could, but doing so would take me out of commission for a week or more. I still did it — Friday 10km runs around the airfield, just to show the troops that, pain and misery or not, it can still be done. But I still wasn’t a runner. I ran because I was expected to – like wearing that sweater because you know that Aunt Martha will be there and will be pleased to see you in it.

When they patched me up some in 2005, they told me I’d be able to run — some. 2, maybe 3 miles, four tops. Never, say, a 10km run. Which really made no sense to me – I can run 4 miles, but not six? I set out to prove them wrong, and somewhere along the way, I became a runner.

By accident, of course. I never meant to become a runner. I never thought I’d take to it. I never thought I’d need it, much less want it. But as I slowly got back to running, first short distances a few times a week but slowly longer distances 4 times a week, I found it to be both an awesome experience and a positive influence on my daily life.

Maybe some of it had to do with where I was running. I’d started in Germany, taking to the tractor trails and heading up into the woods. By the summer, I was in Kansas, running through the heat and humidity, scampering up the one ridge line close enough for me to run. And as summer waned, and as my long runs pushed first past 10km and then past 10 miles, I started to revel in my weekend solitude, exploring the area and the changing colors of fall-time foliage. By the time I was finished in America and had returned to Germany and the cold, cold mornings and snow, I was a runner. I ran.

I didn’t compete. I didn’t enter some event every weekend, didn’t collect bibs to hang on the wall. I ran, just to run.

It didn’t take much then to push me to train for a marathon – not for the event itself, but for the challenge of just doing it. The 10+ miles I could do by the time I was leaving Kansas easily grew to half marathon distances, and the more I ran, the more I began to wonder just what my body could take. Push here, push there, and everything seemed to hold. Nothing was breaking. A marathon seemed possible. I searched and found the one scheduled in Luxembourg, I dig out links for the Hal Higdon training plan, I bought my Garmin Forerunner 305 and running clothes and new iPod headphones, and I let my running go. I dropped the reins and stopped holding on.

And it felt great.

But in becoming a runner, I seemed to be missing one key thing: PR’s. Most everyone I encountered thought I was nuts for running like I did — both for the distances, and for running after having just been so broken. But the rare ones I encountered, the fellow runners, all seemed to be chasing some personal record. And I wasn’t. Was I suppose to? I didn’t get it, didn’t see the need. I ran, and I enjoyed it; when the run was over, I’d take a shower and get a meal, not scribble down notes in some log or deconstruct what I had done in an effort to squeeze (something) more out of my (something) time.

And, after completing the Luxembourg marathon in 2007, I remember thinking — I’d have been OK if the run had taken longer, because 1) I had not died, and 2) the process itself had been so much fun.

Was I truly a runner, thinking such thoughts? Running today, all the moreso on the web and in the magazines, is about speed and times and improvements and races and going faster, faster, FASTER. Everyone I talked to, everything I read online and in the fancy running magazines, all seemed to say that I was missing something for not chasing PR’s — 5km, 10km, half marathon, etc. I was a fake. I was something other than a runner, because I wasn’t chasing some land speed record. PR’s. PR’s, PR’s. Lighter shoes, to shave time off your PR. Less chicken but more salmon, to shave time off your PR. Less slow runs, more hills or intervals, to shave time off your PR.

But I didn’t. I spent more time spent playing with my kids, without a thought for my PR. More 14 mile runs up and back down the Königstuhl, without a thought for my PR. I was busy living life, without a thought for my PR.

And that was OK.

When I got back to Iraq this year, I kept on running. Slowly, at first, just to keep some miles flowing. But as the spring wore on, I got back to the point where I was running a half marathon every weekend. 25 to 30 miles per week felt right. It wasn’t crazy distance running, just longer runs during the week and once around the entire airfield on the weekend. No PR, but running to run.

But in July, I met Frank Shorter and Bart Yasso. And was shooting the shit with them and Kelly Calway, who is about to head off to the Army’s World Class Athlete Program to hopefully prepare for the 2012 Olympics. PR, PR, PR — it’s the mantra all three of them hit on. This, with me standing there in my Vibram Five Fingers shoes — the anti-running running shoe. One of the top runners in the US Army, one of the top voices in the American running community, and one of the top runners ever. And me. Three people very concerned with PR’s, and then me.

I knew then, but likely would not have said it with my outside voice: I’m a runner, because I run and I love to run. You can have you’re PR’s, I’ll take the miles and the hours and the great outdoors.

I do know where this puts me in the running community, but I’ll be honest — these days, I really don’t care. Thinking about all this has only ever caused me to want to head out into the sand and grit and wind and dead of night to go put some more miles in.

And it’s brought me here, to this place and point in time, and the realization that I am never going to set records, radically improve some PR, or gain some wild notoriety for doing this. I’ll never be a racer; I’ll always be a runner.

Well, of course it’s terrorism. Investigators have shown up and have begun to ask questions of the locals — have there been strangers in the area recently? Maybe Chechens? Or some other terrorists from the North Caucasus region?

I have no doubt that it’s terrorism, and would not be surprised in the least if it turns out to be tied to Grozny or Russia’s own internal Muslim conflict. Basayev may be dead, but the conflict rages on, the issues remain unresolved.

And it will be interesting, in these next couple of days, to see how the US responds to Russian cries about the threat she faces from Muslim terrorists. Sometimes, Russia and others like the US see eye to eye on the subject, but not always. I wonder how it will play out this time.

My hosting company made their planned move — and I guess my server didn’t fare as well as that of the wife. Mine lost a few days of data, which I was able to restore with a helping hand from the Google cache.

We made our way by foot into Eugene tonight, to go get some dinner at the Bierstein (map). As best I can recall, when we last were making plans to come to Eugene a couple of years ago, my sister told me about the Bierstein and said it was worth the visit. We didn’t make it there that year, but we made the time for it tonight.

Oooooooh, doggie – it was worth it, too.

We called ahead to make sure kids would be welcome; it’s a beer place, and you just never know. Kids are indeed welcome – before 9 pm. Perfect.

It’s twice as deep as it is wide, with high tables and high bar chairs, and wide ledges around the edge where folks can also stand to eat and drink. The back half of one side features a good ten or so sections of refrigeration, filled will beers of all kinds. About half of the space is set aside for beers from across the US – mostly microbrews, and lots from the NW – and then there are sections of German, Belgium, and other European beers. No Japan, no China – this is pils and kristallweissen country.

(Gotta love the Pilsner Urquell glass, too!)

I gotta say – the range of beers was impressive. No, it doesn’t have 1000 different types of beers, but I sure had a good time picking one. From good Czech beer to staple German ones, to favorite microbrews from up and down the left coast, to a truly appealing range of Belgian beers, there’s something for everyone, and something for every whim or beer fancy – light, dark, seasonal, regular.

The wife and I went with this wonderful Kristall, but Grandpa Doug opted for one of my all-time favorites – a true Budweiser, which was strangely not labeled as such (even when the courts have always sided with the Czech brewery as being the true Budweiser).

But in addition to the beer, we also hit up the dinner menu for a wide range of true treats. I had the french dip, which though lean on the amount of roast beer, was very good likely owing to the great bread used. Right size, too. Numerous side dish options, too – I went with the pasta salad, which I’d give a 7 out of 10 (the sandwich was an 8).

Zavi went with a BL-no-T – yes, he had a bacon sandwich. Smart kid. He opted for chips (crisps, not pommes) which were good. If you’e into bacon sandwiches, well, they make a mean one, again owing a lot to some great bread. They also served up these two sandwiches with a wedge of pickle – good fresh pickle, too. You’d think that it would be hard to mess up a wedge of pickle, but some places manage to – which is pretty sad.

The wife and daughter split some sausages (sadly, more American in style, like a hot dog, than German or European), while Sherr and Doug had tasty salads (and were about the right size – not too big, not too small). While the food choices and quality will probably never match the beer choices or quality, it did not detract in any way. You’ll go there for the beer, but won’t regret also getting a meal.

So, if you’re gonna be in Eugene for any reason, make the time to stop in – nice place, great staff (friendly and kid-friendly), good food, and good beers.

Friday night, we packed out, headed to the airport, and flew overnight to Seattle and on to Eugene. We’re here in OR for 10 days to see the Grandma Sherr and Grandpa Doug for 10 days, with little planned other than a side trip one day to Beaverton for the IBOL World Tour, and a craft day for the wife on another day.

I, though, needed needed to get in some miles. 20, to be exact.

So, this morning, we all got up and had some amazing waffles at a local place (mine featured turkey and cranberries on top), before GPS Doug and I suited up and headed out — he in his cycling gear, me in my cold weather running gear. Doug was willing to tag along and help me with the route, in part to get his daily exercise. And it was awesome having him along — we chatted and talked about the world while the miles slowly passed by.

But still — it was 20 miles, and this is Eugene.

We headed out along the Willamette River, along the south and then west side of the river, before crossing the river and coming back on the other side. The route meandered along the river, making for a nice and easy and flat running route — so much different that what I’ve been running in Hawai’i, where nothing at all is ever flat. I was able to deliberately run at a place slow enough for us to hold a steady conversation — something I had beaten into my head again while reading the book, Born to Run (which is a must-read, in my opinion).

Here I am, at about the 7.5 mile marker. Doesn’t look like it, does it?

At about the 10 mile mark, we were near where we had started and near the start of Pre’s trail (you’ll want to go read about it). We stopped under one of the many bridges, so I could grab some water from Doug’s bag and reload my now-empty Camelbak. The 10 mile mark was also about the time we had passed two guys walking, given them a wave and a hello, only to be asked if I was really still running — apparently, we had passed them about an hour earlier!

So, reloaded with more water, we headed out along Pre’s trail, which with its smooth and padded footing was a nice change. We ran down the length of Pre’s trail, down a bike path some more, and then back to the start of the trail. One more short loop, across the bridge and back towards the house, and we’d hit 20 miles.

If you want to see the run, I have a Google Earth file, here. It’s color-coded by distance.

Doug, hero of the day, had even called ahead to tell everyone that we were about done, so I came back to the house and a hot bath, just waiting for me. The kids and I have settled in with some Top Gear, and I may snack on some apple in the near future.

Indeed, all is right in the world.

It’s very neat to be here and to be running. Yes, just being here and seeing family again, especially after a year in Iraq, is wonderful. But to come here and run in an area so rich in running history has been so very neat. This afternoon and evening, we settled in and watched Without Limits, a 1998 movie about Pre, the city and area, and other running legends like Frank Shorter (whom I met this summer in Iraq). And Eugene was home to the 2008 Olympic trials, and will be again for the 2012 trials, too. And here I am, just a nobody, out tooling around and doing 20 here. Pretty neat.

And one last thing. The running feels great. It is every bit the de-stresser that I had hoped it would be. It is making reintegration into family life that much easier, as it’s definitely keeping me on an even keel and in better moods. I am in a good mood almost always, and there’s great comfort in the strength that comes with this physical conditioning; I feel strong, and that’s great.

I could do without the cold, or the rain, but today was a great day for running, and a great run. I look forward to more runs this week (hopefully with Doug out to join me), and these last couple of weeks before the marathon. Should be great run.

Last week, as we were waiting at the airport in Tikrit for our chance to fly to Kuwait, I stayed focus on my running and managed to put in three runs for almost 18 miles while staged on the flight line, ready to fly out on a moments notice. Sitting at a desolate airport, waiting for weather to clear or a plane to arrive, for several days can, well, be pretty damn boring. Lots of folks watched movies or caught up on their reading — I tried to go run.

But those were flat miles, in a dry heat. Looking back now at my Garmin records from the 16 mile run I did two weeks ago, it was a total of about 700 feet of elevation change — for the whole thing. There’s nothing flat about where I live — if you’re not on the beach, it’s not flat.

After I got back home last Sunday, after the day was done and the kids were in bed, I took off and did a 12 mile run. My training plan told me I was suppose to be having an easy week — thus 12 and not 17 miles — but 12 miles seemed pretty boring. I figured I could spice it up by heading to the hills. Ugh — it had over 1000 feet of ascent. When it was over, I was smoked — it part because I had just flown half way around the world, but in part because it was 6 miles up and then 6 miles back down. I slept pretty well that night.

This week, though, I have mixed it up — some loops through the neighborhood (still not flat) and some runs through the pineapple fields. And I gotta say — the runs have been a lifesaver. I’ve been able to self-medicate, getting healthy doses of endorphins, as I’ve tried to adjust to being home and as the family has put up with my crap.

If that sounds odd, well, it shouldn’t. The Army says that the #1 thing we as soldiers can do, post deployment, to help deal with the stress of reintegration, is physical exercise (cardio, specifically). It’s no joke — those endorphins are magical when it comes to dealing with stress. When I had first approached my wife about training up for this marathon, it was just this that as I cited as the #1 reason for wanting to do this — endorphins during redeployment and reintegration, since I know it’s always stressful not just for me but for us, when I come home.

And so, I’ve spent the week trying to find the balance — miles, vs. hills. The miles are good for me, but the hills are helping me build strength in my legs (and with how much they ache, I have no doubt it’s working). They were pretty uneventful runs during the week, but the long run today was noteworthy: I ran my our neighborhood not just to the Army base, by across it to my new office.

K and the kids had gone to see a performance of Annie last night, and I….. went to sleep. I was very tired. And by tired, I mean I went to bed before 7 pm. Yeah, tired. But I slept 7 and a half hours, getting up at 0230 and hitting the road just after 3. It was almost 6 miles through the fields, and then a little over three up to post and then across post to the office. I stopped, on the way back, at a 24 hour convenience store, to buy a 64 ounce Gatorade — most of which went into my camelback, to restock it since I had drained it on the way, but the rest went right into my belly. No food, no gel packs.

I had hoped to do the run in about 3 hours. Last weekend, I finished reading the book Born to Run, which at one point talks about slowing down slow runs, to burn fat and not what’s in your stomach. Since my stomach was empty, well, I was committed to trying this (and it totally worked). It was 18 miles in 3:05:40, a hair more than I had set as my goal. But there was the whole 2200+-feet-of-ascent aspect, too, so I’m okay with the time. My thighs are seriously smoked — even my hips hurt — but I feel pretty good. I’ll be drinking water all day, and I did eat that Buick when I was done running.

If you’re curious as to how the running has been going, here’s the updated spreadsheet for my running and training. Pretty nerdy and geeky, but it does show what I’ve been up to. I have a Google Earth file, too, that I can email you – just ask, and I’ll send it.

I am home in HI. Iraq is done. It was nice, but I so much prefer to be at home. I had the honor of being in charge of getting 94 soldiers home, which was an adventure. After some initial delays in Tikrit, due to rain of all things, we rushed from there to Kuwait, through Customs, and onto a North American Airlines charter flight. Similar to when I came home (covertly) this summer, we went through Leipzig to Bangor, Maine, before stopping in Sacramento on the way to Oahu. It was a long, long 36 hours. For me, the saving grace was that, as the guy in charge, I got to sit in the comfy sets at the front of the plane. Still, though — that’s a lot of miles to cover. And really, when the wife and kids are waiting on the other end, the miles seem to take that much longer.

Now that I’m home, I’m really doing three things:

1. Hanging out with the wife and kids.

2. Working on the honey-do list.

3. Running.

The hanging out part is pretty easy. My temperament seems to be a lot better than it has been after other deployments. I am much slower to be irked – which was not always the case after other trips.

I’m doing my best with the honey-do’s. Today, I spent a good amount of time tinkering with our TiVo. With Galleon, VisualHub, and websites like this, I figured out how to add video to our TiVo (when normally it just has the things that it records). Now, I can add programs to it, for us to watch — I can go someplace like this, download a movie like the original Street Fighter, when load it on the TiVo for us to watch later. Not have to do, just nice to do.

And yes, running. Always with the running, even while in the process of staging to move from Iraq to Hawai’i. At the airport in Tikrit, while we waiting for the weather to improve, I did three runs that totaled almost 18 miles. On Sunday, about 14 hours after I got home, I did a 12 mile run through the pineapple fields. Iraq was flat; I am having to adjust both to the lack of flat running, as well as the humidity. This weekend, I am suppose to run something around 18 miles for my long run — I’ll need a plan for water and maybe food along the way.

So, yeah. It’s good to be home.

After five weeks of running, I am .29 miles ahead of the training plan. Not too bad. It’s always give and take with me — lots of little days of just a pinch more than required, and then the one or two days where I come up short a mile or two. My shortfall was the other week when I had rolled an ankle and done only 3.5 of 5 — that’s a bunch of pinches to make up.

Very uneventful week in running. I was suppose to close out with 10 on Saturday, but I wanted to loop the airfield. That hasn’t changed — it’s still 11+ to do that. Which is fine. I wasn’t setting any time records on that run, just enjoying the darkness and the exercise.

Running this week is accelerated. I normally run late Saturday night and then pick back up late Tuesday night, but this week has the Army 10-Miler on Friday morning, almost 2 days ahead in my training week. So, I ran 11+ last night, and I went back out and hit my 3 tonight to start the new running week. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday night, and then Friday morning I’ll do the 10. I’m only scheduled for 7 this week, but 10 won’t kill me. I’ll probably run it with Rob or something.

On the 19th, I had rolled my ankle off of the side of the road when running. I was less than 2 miles into a 3 mile run, but did 4 to make sure it wasn’t broken. I figured it was just sprained.

On the 22nd, I did it again, this time rolling it so far I fell to the desert floor and drew blood. I was a mere .25 into my planned 7 mile run and yes, I ran the 7 miles that night.

On the 29th, I rolled it a third time. Same left ankle — I run against traffic, on the side of the road, after midnight and in the dark, so these things happen. I made it about 3.66 miles of my planned 5, but had to stop. It hurt, and in one of those, “Uh, oh” kinds of ways.

But I have kept running. I knocked out four runs this week, for 19 miles. Saturday night was 9 miles, and I dragged Rob out to run with me (he’s also a zombie) which slowed the pace (talking always does that) but made it a very enjoyable run. 19 miles for the week, average pace of 9:12 per mile, running in the dark with a sprained ankle. 4 runs, averaging almost 45 minutes per run. When I’m back past 10 miles, and over 45 minutes average run time per run, I’ll say I’m again a distance runner. And I’d probably return to regular ice cream, too.

I think it was an OK week. Good running. This coming week, I’ve got new Nikes to work into the running. I’ll start with small runs, to see how they are. I can do 3 or 4 miles under the worst conditions, so even if the shoes are horrible I’d still make my run — vs. trying new shoes first on a long run, which could be a nightmare.

It’s going only OK. I am running at night, almost exclusively at or after midnight. And I am trying along the side of the roads — and once a week, at least, stepping on the edge, rolling my ankle, and hurting it. My ankles are in pretty bad shape right now. I can still lace up and running straight on ‘em, but rotational stuff hurts some. They’ll bounce back. I just need more moonlight.

But it does sort of kill the pace. Week 2, which included a 7 mile run in which I rolled my ankle in the first quarter mile, had me averaging 9 minute miles for the week. This week, when I again rolled my ankle, my weekly average pace was 8:42. I need to stop rolling my ankles.

Anyway, it’s good to run. It’s good to have a training plan. It’s good to be out on the open roads again. This coming week will close with a 9 mile run — the distances are getting respectable again. Maybe by then my sleep pattern will return to something considered more normal, too.

Good running. At night, too, which helps with the heat. 3 x 3 miles, 1 x 6 miles. The 6 mile run (last night) featured some pretty strong winds, which killed my pace. But I ran, which is good enough.

I wanted to post a link to a file I whipped up, for training for a marathon. It’s an Excel file (here) and it’s all geek. It’s built on the Hal Higdon novice marathon training plan, which I swear by for anyone just wanting to run and survive a marathon (it’s fool proof).

On the first sheet, you’d enter the date for the Monday before your planned marathon. On sheet 2, you’d record distances and times for the various runs. And then, behind the scenes, it does a ton of math – pace per run, pace per week, and all kinds of other eye candy stuff, to include charts and graphs.

Oh, and I almost forgot. Week One, Day One of training for the Honolulu Marathon was Tuesday. Tuesday was also the day my boss told me to go back to bi-phasic sleep, until further notice. Could life be more complicated? Yep. So be it!

So, go get your geek on and check it out.

I’m running again. When the Doc told me recently that my foot would be ok — no broken bones, no bone spur, likely just a soft tissue injury — I told him I was itching to get back to running.

Stay off of it for two weeks, he said. Take these, he said.

Well, one for two ain’t too bad. I’d not run in about ten days by that point, so I waited a few more and got back to running. After all, this is week 0.

I’ve got my eye on the Honolulu Marathon. And I’m not alone. More than a few soldiers from my unit are eyeballing it. I am not alone.

Now, getting ready for a marathon isn’t a simple thing, and it’s not an overnight thing. So, I am planning to again use the Hal Higdon training plan to use the next 18 weeks to get ready.

18 weeks. Starting, while I am in deployed, in northern Iraq, in the summer, and working nights. 18 weeks, that will include us going at full throttle at work, prepping to and handing over out mission to someone else, flying half way around the world, taking weeks of vacation, traveling to the continental US, and, oh yeah, reuniting with my family.

That, and the little issue of 435 miles to run, between here and the start of the marathon. Yeah — 435. That’s what it takes to train up for a marathon.

So, this was week 0. I have not registered for the marathon yet; I want and need to get a few more miles on these feet of mine before I lay out the cold, hard cash. I did 15+ miles this week, over the week and with 5 runs. It’s a start – nothing broke.

My little bi-phasic sleep experiment drew out of a need to be in the office a whole lot. I was left with the choice of getting maybe 4 hours of sleep a night, or breaking it up into chunks. So, I went with chunks.

For four weeks, I did sleep 3 hours, twice a day. I generally went to sleep around 2200 or 2300 — 10 or 11 pm — for the whopping 3 hours. On good days, I’d get up and run, on bad days I’d just get up. Shower, shave, and on to work. Some days, there would be food on my desk, waiting for me, and on other days, I’d tough it out until 6 or 7 AM when I’d sneak out for some breakfast.

I’d finish around 10 or 11 AM, on most days, and go back to sleep until after lunch. No, no lunch for me. I’d be sleeping. I’d make it back to the office sometime between 1 and 2 pm. Most days I’d sneak off to get some before the close-out meetings of the day started. By 9, maybe 10 pm, my day was over and I was heading back to sleep again.

Does it sound like all I did was sleep and work, and sometimes run? Well, that’s a pretty fair description of my 4 weeks. Did it kill me? No. Could I do this forever? Yes. Does it take a lot of attention to pull this off? Yes. Could I have done this by myself? No.

Would I ever do this again? Yes — but only if I was back in a situation like this. Being awake all day and being awake all night just isn’t… normal. I did get a lot of work done, it did have the effect I wanted, but to a “T” everyone thought it so abnormal as to be troublesome. Some worried about my health, others worried if I was eating enough. Thankfully, no one seemed to think that my work was slipping.

For me, it was all about the 9 hours. I’d wake up knowing I just needed to make it 9 hours and I’d go to sleep and reset. If I could make it to then, I’d be good.

There were a half dozen or dozen days when I did not make it to sleep during the day until well into the afternoon. There were at least two days where things were so busy that I did not get to sleep during the day. Being late was one thing; missing sleep was something entirely different. Being late was generally OK, but missing sleep left me trying to make it up over the next one or two sleeps — 4.5 hours vs. 3. Which worked.

I could do this, long haul. I’d take care and attention and dedication to the hours, the missed meals, the need to fit running into all this. But it can be done. It’s very regimented, but very possible. And very possible in a military environment, where there are people working 24 hours a day, every day.

I have no idea if this would translate to the regular world, to a regular job. I guess if your boss would be OK with you just sleeping all the time. I had the two windows every day — early night, and late morning / lunch — when I could sneak away to sleep like this; I don’t know how many others have windows like that.

So, today I sleep some some and tonight I go back to nights. But maybe a run first, since my foot has felt rock solid for a couple of days.