Continue reading »]]> In the week between the Christmas and New Year holidays, I put some turtles in a box and gently put them into the hands of the United States Postal Service, hoping they would survive the trip to their new home.

Before you turn me in to PETA, you should know these were not the “cute in an ugly way” little green turtles that some people have as pets. These were delicious chocolate-caramel-pecan confections. For nine years, I’ve sent turtles to people who make generous donations to help me fight cancer with the American Cancer Society’s DetermiNation program. It’s been my shtick, my play on the “tortoise and the hare” parable. You know that one, right? “Slow and steady wins the race,” with the victory in this case being the ultimate defeat of cancer. You can read more about the story behind the turtles.

Turtles on their way to a good home

This was the third batch I had sent this year. The first was right on schedule after I ended my marathon season in November. The second came shortly thereafter when I realized I had under-counted in batch #1, and this last “holiday” set was the result of a spate of end-of-year “need a tax deduction” donations that deserved a quick reward.

Fundraising-wise, this was a big year: my wonderful donors contributed over $9300! That’s the second-highest total I’ve had over the years. As I sat on the living room floor, folding “thank you” cards, wrapping turtle boxes and slapping on mailing labels, I thought, “Man, this is a lot of work! I’m glad I didn’t have to make the turtles too!”

That’s when this post came to me. I dashed an email off to my sister, Sharon, the chief confectioner, asking her for some details on what exactly goes into making 43 pounds of turtles.

• 16 pounds of pecan halves
• 8 pounds of sugar
• 2 pounds of butter
• 32 ounces Karo syrup
• 15  pounds of milk chocolate

And then there’s the labor. Each turtle is hand dipped – one by one. For this big chore, my sister called on her daughter to lend a hand – actually, both her hands! Working together, it still took them 7 ½ hours! As Sharon said, “I gave birth in less time!” And keep in mind, it isn’t like this is the first time they’ve done this. Sharon makes hundreds of pounds of turtles every year as part of her catering business, so they have the production down to an efficient science. How long would it take you to make 43 pounds of turtles?

Now, double that. That’s about what it was like the first year of Turtles Against Cancer. That year, the reward was two pounds of turtles for a donation of $100 and one pound for a $50 donation. And the donations…rolled…in! Nearly $11,000 worth! (You don’t want to know how much money I spent that year on postage!)

Donation levels have changed over the years, poundage has changed, pecan prices have dramatically changed. But one thing has remained constant – I have the best group of supporters around.

Continue reading »]]> In just a few months, I’ll be starting my 10th year of running on the American Cancer Society DetermiNation team. Over that time, I’ve run more than 20 races in a dozen locations for “DNation.” In fact, when I register for a race now, the first thing I do after receiving my registration confirmation is sign up with the DetermiNation team that’s local to the race I’m running.

I care deeply about the cause of fighting cancer, and running gives me a way to join the fight. The American Cancer Society is my charity of choice, but I realize it may not be yours. That’s fine. There are many, many wonderful charities to choose from. I urge you to find one that appeals to you and join it. You’re out there running anyway – why not make your miles more meaningful?

Since we are in the season of giving, I wanted to give you the gift of choice. I invited a few of my running friends to share with you the charities for which they run. Together, we represent just a small sliver of possibilities for you – there are over 150 charities represented in the Chicago Marathon alone! There is sure to be a cause that fits your personal values and wishes for the world. Find it. Support it.

The Children’s Tumor Foundation – Sarah Coulam

Sarah Coulam

The Children’s Tumor Foundation is the global leader in funding medical research to find effective treatments for neurofibromatosis (NF). NF causes tumors to grow on nerves throughout the body and can lead to blindness, bone deformities, cancer, deafness, disfigurement, learning disabilities and disabling pain.

Hardly rare, but rarely talked about, NF affects 1 in every 3,000 births and millions of people around the world. The Foundation is leading the way in drug discovery for the disorder, with 50 drugs in the pipeline today and there will be more tomorrow; we are always evolving and you can be too. By joining the NF Endurance Team you are helping us get one step closer to finding a cure. Thousands of participants have run with our team, sharing their reasons to run and dedicating their race to one of our NF Heroes.

RuNFor a Reason

Join The Children’s Tumor Foundation team
Connect with Sarah

The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation – Brady Gervais

Brady Gervais and her family

I run for my physical health and mental well-being. I run for the high. I run for the escape, and the discipline. I run because, damn, it’s just a lot of fun. And sometimes I just run for the food that follows.

The reason that trumps them all is my dad.

In 1995, he died from multiple myeloma – an incurable blood cancer – 18 months after being diagnosed. He was 46.

I remember the day he and my mom broke the news to my sister and me. I was a few weeks shy of turning 10. We stood around the kitchen island. I can’t remember if it was my dad or mom who said the word cancer first. I can remember that upon hearing that six-letter word, I fell to the floor. Cancer was a death sentence, wasn’t it, I thought?

It was for my family.

I don’t want cancer to be a death sentence for any family. The same sick, sinking feeling I got when my dad revealed his diagnosis returns whenever I learn someone else fights the battle he did.

While there have been incredible advances in multiple myeloma treatment and people are living with it longer than my dad did, it can still be a death sentence for some. I don’t want it to be. The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF) doesn’t want it to be, either.

So I run. I run for my dad, the cancer that killed him and the organization that’s as determined as I am to make sure multiple myeloma doesn’t take away more dads.

You can also read more about Brady’s fundraising efforts as she prepares to run the Big Sur International Marathon in April on behalf of the MMRF.
Follow Brady on Twitter

DetermiNation and Relay for Life – Manuel Haro

Manuel Haro

I became a volunteer for the American Cancer Society on the one-year anniversary of my Mom Maria Haro’s death from a seven-year battle with cancer. In my mind, I kept replaying those painful memories of her suffering with cancer. I was sick and tired of all these negative feelings and used that as motivation to fight back against this horrible disease. For three years, I’ve volunteered for many of the American Cancer Society programs, but the two programs that are very special to me are Relay For Life and DetermiNation.

I fundraise, online chair, e-mail, Blog, Tweet, Facebook, run marathons, emcee, mentor, and do many more things, all to fight cancer. I love being a mentor to our Relayers and Determination Athletes. I want all of our participants to succeed in fighting back against cancer.  When our DetermiNation Athletes and Relayers succeed, we all succeed in getting closer to finding a cure. Providing our participants the skills to become successful fundraisers and helping them promote their events is a win-win for the cause. This raises more awareness and brings more allies to this fight. Together, we will find a cure.

Volunteering for DetermiNation and Relay has been a great outlet for me to make a difference in the fight against cancer. I look forward to the day that no one will ever have to hear the words, “you have cancer.”  We are all blessed with talents and skills; therefore, use those skills and help make a difference in this world.

Visit these links for more information and volunteer opportunities in your area for Relay For Life and DetermiNation
To read about Manuel’s cancer-fighting adventures, visit his blog

Autism Speaks - Luau

Luau and his daughter

Inevitably, in every race that I run, there is a moment that I think of my younger daughter, Brooke. She has autism. Her autism makes it difficult for her to process both information and sensory input. Her way of communicating is generally through a set of scripts that rarely apply to any given situation. I never thought I would be the parent of a child with special needs, and when she was diagnosed with autism, I thought that my whole world would come crashing down.

But then I found two lifelines. The first was running – in a world that I had perceived as spinning out of control, I was able to take control of something for myself. The second was Autism Speaks – they gave my a voice, a platform to help make the world a less hostile, anxiety riddled one for my baby.

Though a majority of funds raised for Autism Speaks goes to scientific research trying to unlock the puzzle that is autism, a very significant amount of monies goes toward my personal mission – raising autism awareness. To me, that is the most immediate impact I can have on my baby’s world because, awareness leads to understanding which leads to compassion.

Mid-race, when I am hurting and wanting to quit, I think of my Brooke and all the children like her – I think of their and their family’s daily struggle, and I find the strength to carry on.

To donate to Autism Speaks, go to www.autismspeaks.org.
You can find Luau at www.runluaurun.com

American Heart Association – Daniel Malinski

Daniel Malinski and his family

I run for the American Heart Association’s Run with Heart Team. This will be the team’s 4th year, and I’m excited for what lies ahead. I’ve run with heart for the last 2 years, in honor of my dad (a heart attack and triple bypass survivor) and for my oldest daughter, Kaelyn (congenital heart defect/ heart surgery at 2 days old)! They are my heroes.

I firmly believe in the American Heart Association’s mission, to build healthier lives, free of cardiovascular diseases and stroke. With that, I also run for me. I am proof that you can make changes and live a healthier life. I’ve lost over 120lbs these last two years while training and as I’ve run with heart.

People can join the cause and run with heart, but they don’t have to run a marathon. You can run a half marathon, a 5K, an 8K, heck the AHA even has 3 Heart Walks in the Chicagoland area! They offer many opportunities for those who want to get involved and volunteer.

Join the the American Heart Association team
Follow Daniel’s blog

Prevent Child Abuse Illinois – Daniel Malinski

I am also running for Prevent Child Abuse Illinois. (I believe I am the first marathoner running for them.) I am a child abuse survivor. Growing up often felt like walking on eggshells. I never knew when the next blow up would come or what would spark it. Sometimes it was for something as simple as not putting laundry away correctly.

I carried the anger, fear, confusion and pain from childhood with me for so long, and that’s one of my biggest regrets.

As much as running helped me physically, I found that it gave me comfort mentally as well. I started to see I could do anything I put my mind to. I didn’t feel worthless, I felt like I had a purpose.

I run to show myself I don’t have to be scared, confused or angry anymore. I run to be an example – to show that no matter where you are, what you’ve been through or who you are…you can do anything you put your mind to. I run to show that it’s possible to stop running from your past in fear; to show that you can break the cycle, you can get help, and that you’re worth it. I hope that I’ve done that.

I am raising funds for Prevent Child Abuse Illinois in 2012 as a way for me to heal. I also hope that sharing my story will do some good for others who have gone through or are going through something similar.

Join the Prevent Child Abuse Illinois team
Support Daniel in his marathon

Team in Training – Chris Wilno

Chris Wilno with his wife and dad

To open, I would like to say I am a fan and a supporter of charity…..period. Our lives head in different directions, and along the way life will throw a test at us. It may be a loved one battling cancer, a friend whose child has autism or any number of circumstances. Whatever that test is, we have a choice to make as individuals. We can stand back and watch or we can stand up and fight.

My first test was when my father was diagnosed with leukemia. I watched him battle this cancer for 15 months and ultimately lose his battle. In his final months, I moved in with my parents….partially to be a good son and selfishly because I only had a limited amount of time left with my best friend. While he fought cancer, I sat helpless until one day I decided I would run a marathon in his honor. I chose the marathon because I had always been afraid of it. Staring my fear in the face was my tribute.

That led to the Team in Training program with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society where I have now raised over $100,000 to fight cancer. I have also watched my new best friend, my wife Crea, battle cancer twice. I have experienced the death of my daughter. Running is how I remember and honor them. I now coach for Team in Training because I truly believe that 26.2 miles can change your life. Team in Training lets me change lives while changing the world and finding a cure for cancer.

My wife has stood back and allowed me the time to participate in endurance sports and be very active with Team in Training. It is my time to allow her the time to train. She is participating in the Lavaman Triathlon in April 2012 to help raise money to fight cancer. This is a big deal for anyone let alone someone having stared cancer in the face 2 times.

Support Crea in her triathlon
Follow Chris on Good Plus One Blog

A final note

Like I said at the top, if you’re going to be out there running, you might as well make your miles have meaning. Pick a charity and do some good in this world. If you don’t know what charity to join, look at ones affiliated with the race you’re participating in, or talk to representatives at the next race expo you attend.

Don’t be afraid of the fund-raising. That is the biggest fear that first-timers have, but I assure you, it needn’t be. If you care about the cause, people will support you. And most charity programs have good tools and tips to help you raise money. I expect you will find it much easier than you think, and far more rewarding than you expect.

Continue reading »]]> Imagine being 14 again. The zits. The raging hormones. The mood swings and non-stop drama.

Now, imagine being 14 … and having cancer. Where would you turn for support? Your classmates, maybe? What would you do if they were not only unsupportive, but downright mean, making fun of you because your hair was falling out?

If you were resourceful, you might turn to canshare.net, a website for kids with cancer. That’s what Elise did, and she had this to say, “I don’t really have funny storys yet but i really like the websight for kids. It kinda makes being sick seem less horrible. Thanks for making me laugh some today ”

Canshare.net and its adult-oriented sibling canswear.net were launched in September by Dara Insley, herself a cancer survivor. She writes her rationale for starting the sites: “I completely understand that cancer is not a ‘laughing matter.’  People die from it and people can die (or almost die, myself included) from the treatments for cancer.  That said, I truly believe that when we make fun of, crack jokes, or share funny stories about cancer, that it takes away its power to ‘control us.’ My new mantra is ‘LOse fear, haVE HOPE,’ which if you look closely, also says, ‘LOVE HOPE.’”

Dara is one of those people who just makes you laugh, even when you think there’s nothing that will. She’s using that positive energy to help others cope with the challenges they face, as well as the sometimes downright rude and insensitive things other people say to them. For example, someone once asked her, “Do you have cancer, or are you making a statement?” (Check out her “retorts I wish I’d said” on canswear.net.)

Both canshare and canswear are meant to be a place where people can go to tell – or read – about the oft-time unexpectedly humorous experiences they’ve encountered in their time with cancer. The sites are split into 40-some categories with catchy names such as Sarcoma Sticklers, Kidney Kickers, Hematology Hangups and Bald Bloopers. In this last category on canswear.net, you can find an entry from a woman named Denise, who lists “10 Things to Do When Chemo Makes You Bald.” For example:

#3.  Get fingerpaint, but instead of your fingers, use your head.
#6.  Paint a beard on your chin, and go up to someone on the street and ask, “Deal, or no deal?”
#10.  Paint a face on the back of your head to prove to your kids that you really do have eyes on the back of your head.

While sitting by myself in a diner and reading the posts on canswear.net, I burst out laughing so much that the proprietor asked, “What the heck are you doing over there?”

As 14-year-old Elise can attest, when you’re battling cancer, you can never have enough things to make you laugh – or too many friends. “I don’t know anyone else that’s had cancer too… Kids at school are mean because my hair has been falling out. Any hair ideas?” On canshare.net, she can find other kids who are going through what she’s experiencing, and she can pick up ideas for coping.

Like Elise, canshare.net and canswear.net are young and searching for other people with similar experiences and stories to tell. Several of the categories on both sites are blank, eagerly awaiting someone to post a story from her or his life. This week, Dara sent a letter to the director of each cancer center in the U.S., asking them to help tell people about the websites. With her permission, I’m sharing with you some excerpts from it:

Dear Doctor,

Hi, I hope this letter finds you having a good day, and thank you for taking the time to read it as well. I would like to introduce you to the idea of injecting laughter into the world of cancer, and to ask you for some help.
True story: I Googled “cancer jokes” when I was undergoing chemotherapy and found only oddball corny jokes. I wanted to find firsthand jokes or accounts about it all, and could not. Hence, the idea for these sites was born.

I hope, via my “grassroots efforts” of “word of mouth”, to get people interested in sharing their stories with the sites. I am also hoping that by this same effort they will be there for people to laugh at the collected stories on the day they need to laugh too.

Thank you for your time, attention, and, if you choose to do so, sending word out about these websites, rather than just crumpling up this letter and pretending it never crossed your desk. LOL !!! Either choice you make is fine with me, as I will continue to be the single voice in the wind hollering, “Hey, cancer patients everywhere, join me in laughing today, because it sure feels better than crying!!”

All the best to each and every one of you and have a great day!!

Sincerely,

Dara Insley/cancer comedian (sounds cool, doesn’t it, haha!!)

I believe Dara is onto something. You’ve heard “laughter is the best medicine,” right? It’s also a helluva lot cheaper than cancer treatments. If you know someone who has cancer, pass this along to them and encourage them to submit a story. If you yourself have cancer, I have two things to ask of you:

1. Submit a story to kidscanshare@gmail.com or canswear@gmail.com
2. Get to know Dara. You’ll be glad you did.

Continue reading »]]> October 9, 2011 was the date of the 34^th Chicago Marathon. But who cares? The really important anniversary to celebrate was the 28^th birthday of Sarah Coulam. If you don’t know Sarah, I’m sorry. She’s one of the nicest, sweetest, most giving people you’ll meet. On this day, it was my pleasure to be running a 26.2-mile loop of Chicago with her.

Just a week before, she had joined me in St. Paul, Minnesota, to run a portion of the Twin Cities Marathon. In our pre-race plan, she was to hop in with me at mile 21 and run for a couple of miles at my planned 7:37 pace, then give me a hearty “You’re doing great!” and pull off while I cruised to the finish line, smiling all the way to a great new personal record (PR).

It was a beautiful plan … until I screwed up the execution by starting much, much too fast. By the time I reached Sarah, I had not only hit the infamous “wall,” I had bounced off it and crumbled at its base. So rather than dumping me after two miles, she stuck with me till mile 26 when I could see the finish line, then she set me free so I could feel like I had conquered the race on my own. I know better. If not for her, the last five miles would have been ugly. Well … uglier.

In the starting corral with the Birthday Girl!

With that backdrop, I was determined to do everything possible to help her reach her goal of a 3:50 marathon, which would be a 4-minute PR for her. So as I stood in corral D, awaiting the start of my second marathon in seven days, I turned to Sarah and said, “Happy birthday!” At that point, I wasn’t sure how old she was: 28? 29? When she confirmed 28, I thought about my own approaching 50^thbirthday and quickly realized I could be her dad. That was really just a minor detail though, because I already felt as proud and happy as a dad could be.

Sarah had wisely ironed “Birthday Girl” onto the front of her neon yellow singlet. Then she made a point of running on the edge of the pack so that people could easily see her. Very quickly, we realized she would be a popular attraction throughout the race. “Go, Birthday Girl!” and “Happy Birthday!” rang out every few seconds. After a handful of shouts, Sarah jokingly said, “I should keep track of how many times we hear that.” To a numbers-obsessed guy like me, that was both invitation and challenge. After one mile, 22 shoutouts; at two miles, 43. By 15 miles, we were up to at least 374 (I’m sure I missed many in the crushing cacophony of cheers).

And that’s when it all stopped.

As we crossed the halfway point at mile 13.1, I asked, “How you doing?” She said, “OK,” but admitted her stomach was upset. Shortly after 14, she said she need to find a portajohn. Even though I was watching for the red “toilet” signs, I missed the ones near the aid station at mile 15 … but Sarah saw them. She called out, “Bathroom” and thought I gave her the head-nod acknowledgement, but I hadn’t heard, and any nod was just a quirk of my running form. She peeled off the course just as the street widened to 6 full lanes with volunteers dispensing Gatrorade and water on both sides.

Spotting the Birthday Girl at mile 14 aid station.

If you’ve ever run a race of virtually any size or distance, you know how chaotic aid stations can be. People shouting, runners zig-zagging all over, trying to get refreshment and dodge fellow runners while being careful not to slip on the thousands of soggy crushed cups.

Seconds after we entered the aid zone, I turned to make sure Sarah was still on my shoulder, but she was gone. I ran backwards, scanning side-to-side: no Sarah. I stopped in the middle of the street and yelled for her: no Sarah. “Shit!” I said aloud, “How can you lose someone in fluorescent yellow?” I said to myself. To the end of the block I ran, where I could see the entire field as it made a hard right. After a couple of minutes, I decided to run ½ mile to where my wife, daughter and other cheering section were waiting. “Have you seen Sarah?” I yelled as they tried to hug me. “Yes, she was with you.” ARGH!

I waited as the 3:55 pace group leader ran by, then as the 4:00 leader passed. I must’ve missed her. We had been on a solid 3:50 pace for 15 miles. There’s no way she had dropped this far back.

I didn’t know what to do. Run back to where we separated? That seemed stupid as she must’ve been ahead by now. Run faster to try to catch up? I was already feeling the effects of running two marathons in a week. Could I possibly run fast enough to catch her? How long would it take? Should I pull out completely? This race was all about Sarah. What was in it for me? Besides, I had let her down. As her pacer, I had 2 simple tasks:

1. Stay with Sarah.
2. Get her to the finish on time.

I had failed both. Distraught, I decided to keep running in case she stopped or ran into trouble farther up the road. Little did I know she had also stopped, assuming I had also hit the portajohn. Most likely, we were both waiting at about the same time for about the same amount of time, then moving ahead in separated synchronicity. When we crossed the next timing mat, we were less than a minute apart, but it may as well have been from New York to Chicago because we didn’t have any clue where the other one was.

For about two miles, I ran much faster than we had been going, hoping I might catch up to her (not realizing she was still behind me). Just as I was thinking how futile that was, I passed a runner sitting all alone on the curb, clutching his right calf and grimacing in pain. With nothing to run for and having experienced a lot of calf issues in my last two marathons, I decided to double-back to help him. “Want me to push your toes?” I asked. Teeth gritted, he nodded. With one hand, I pushed his toes toward his body while the other hand massaged the back of his knotted calf. After a minute or so, he thanked me and said he was ready to go. As he tried to stand, his left calf seized. I pushed and massaged that one too till he said, “You go on. I’m just going to walk.”

Less than three miles later, I ran by a man who was prone in the middle of the Pilsen neighborhood street. As I glanced over, I saw he was a DetermiNation runner, so I doubled back yet another time to make sure he was okay. A couple of course officials were trying to get medical support on their walkie-talkies while another directed the approaching runners from stampeding over him. He was suffering severe leg cramps and heat exhaustion. I stood there several minutes, providing some shade to him, but there was really nothing I could do aside from be there and ask his name in case I found his family at mile 22, where he said they were waiting, or at the finish line tent. Eventually, with an ambulance on its way, I moved on.

About a mile later, I came upon another DetermiNation runner who was struggling. I recognized him from a DetermiNation meeting where I had spoken on Friday. He was nursing a bad ankle injury. “I think I’m going to drop out.” I agreed that would be wise and told him the next med tent was at the next mile marker. When we got there and I steered him over, he asked the medical staffer, “How far to the next med station?” She said, “One mile,” and Stan headed back on course.

Free beer at 23!

Despite my pleas for him to not push it, lest he injure himself more, he pushed on. I didn’t know whether to tackle him and drag him off to the side, or stand back and applaud wildly. I erred on the side of caution and did everything I could to convince him to stop. “You’ve given your all! No shame in stopping here! You’ll never be closer to the finish than right now!” And yet, he pushed on. When we met again an hour or so later in the DetermiNation tent, he wanted a photo with me, saying, “You’re a big reason why I’m here now.” I took that to mean he’s always been a rebellious type who just needed to be told, “You can’t do this.” Hey, he’s a classic DetermiNator.

At mile 23, once again running alone, I did something I’ve never done in a marathon but always wanted to do. I stopped and drank a beer. You know what? It was gooooood.

With 1.5 miles to go, I was coming up on a young man wearing the distinctive yellow and red singlet of the Hansons/Brooks Project, a training team of elite and nearly elite runners. I was on pace to finish in something over 4 hours, which meant he was having a really bad day if I was catching him. Suddenly, he stopped. He wasn’t cramping or collapsing, he was just mentally checked out. I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “Come on!” I shouted, “This is all mental. You KNOW that! Let’s GO!” And he started to run again. Like an old-fashioned Asian husband, I stayed one step ahead and 1 step to his left, exhorting him on with shouts that alternatively challenged and encouraged him. From there, he ran every step the rest of the way to the finish line, at which point we … got separated.

In one race, I had lost two pacees. Worst … pacer … EVER!

Back at the DetermiNation tent, I began asking if anyone knew anything about Sarah. Had she finished? Was she still out there? Did her tummy hold up in the increasing heat? No one knew anything. After 20 minutes, there she was. We came together, hugged, sobbed on one another’s shoulder, and said, “I’m sooo sorry!” She felt guilty for losing me, and I of course knew I was at fault.

Running a marathon is largely a solitary activity, but we had taken it on together. When we drifted apart, it became difficult to hold it together. I compensated by finding other people to help. Sarah had to go it alone till mile 21 when another friend found her and escorted her for a few miles. But those miles from 15 to 21 were rough, mentally and physically. I’m proud of her for sticking with it. I hope she’ll give me a chance to redeem myself.

Continue reading »]]> Sunday, I’m running the Twin Cities Marathon in Minnesota. No, that’s not exactly accurate – I’m racing the Twin Cities Marathon. To “run” it would be to enjoy what Runner’s World magazine calls one of the most beautiful urban marathons in the country. To “race” it means I likely will miss a lot of that beauty while I focus on not starting too fast, finding a groove that’s right on the edge of uncomfortably fast, and maintaining my form as best I can for 26.2 miles … before collapsing just below the finish line banner, stars flickering through my field of vision.

Yes, Sunday I’m racing. I intend to cover this distance faster than I ever have before, setting a personal record (PR). My goal is 3:19:59 – or in other words, “break 3:20.” That will be a huge PR, topping my previous best by 8 minutes 42 seconds. Is that a crazy goal? Probably, but that doesn’t mean it’s not achievable. Every fiber in my body tells me it is. (Well, everyone except for a few in my left calf that aren’t very happy with me right now, but I’ll deal with them in my own way – by beating them into submission.)

I’m not a superstitious person, and I don’t believe in luck. But like many runners, I am a number freak. So when a set of numbers started occurring in randomly disconnected place over the last 24 hours, I took note.

First, there was an innocent tweet from a DetermiNation friend, @edschober. “Bib # yet?” was all it said. I retrieved my race confirmation packet and tweeted back, “Yep. #2237.”

Next, there was my weight. About a month ago, I weighed myself: 141 pounds. That’s 3 pounds over what I consider my ideal racing weight (based on the weight I was for that 3:28:42 PR marathon). I shrugged and accepted the fact that I would be carrying extra baggage in this race because I wasn’t going to diet to lose weight. However, I did immediately cut all alcohol (which I usually do the month before a big race) and ice cream. You need to understand, I really enjoy both of those things, but I know they are not the healthiest items on my training diet. Those are the only changes I made, aside from increasing my mileage for two weeks.

This morning, before heading out of town for the race, I hopped on the scales again. Staring up at me in bright red LED was 137. I couldn’t believe it. I stepped off, hit reset, and stepped back on: 137.

Notice anything yet? Both of those numbers end in “37.” Then I pulled some useless Trivial Pursuit-type fact out of my head that I raced to the PC to confirm. In just a few hours, I would be boarding a Southwest Airlines flight. Every single plane Southwest flies is a Boeing 737. It’s getting a little eerie isn’t it?

At this point, I did one more thing that was a complete waste of time because I already knew the answer, but by now, I was driven by the visual impact of seeing the numbers align, just like a gambler will pull that one-armed bandit time after time in hopes of seeing 3 cherries line up.

I opened my web browser and clicked the bookmark to my favorite online pace calculator. Slowly, so as not to make a mistake, I entered 3, 19 and 59 into the hours, minutes and seconds boxes. Then I carefully selected “Distance = Marathon.” My hand was nearly shaking as I hit the “calculate pace” button.

7:37

All these 37s and 7:37s came tumbling at me from so many different directions. I’m not superstitious … but I’m willing to make an exception and say these numbers are telling me Sunday is going to be a good day.

Wish me luck!

Continue reading »]]> On October 2, I’ll be running the Twin Cities Marathon in Minnesota, my second marathon of the year and third race with a DetermiNation team (Boston and Indianapolis were the others). One of my favorite parts of running with DetermiNation is getting to meet my teammates from around the country in person. In many cases, I’ve “known” some of these people for a year or more through conversations on Twitter or Facebook. Other times, I meet new people at our team dinner or in the tent before or after a race. And some times, my first encounter with a fellow DetermiNator is less direct. Today, I’d like to share one of those acquaintances with you.

I first “met” Nathan Brown on August 23 when I received the weekly e-newsletter from Adam Layne, the American Cancer Society staffer who runs the DetermiNation program in Minnesota. Every newsletter has a “Runner Spotlight” that features one runner and the story of why he or she is running with DNation. Nathan’s story was short, but it moved me. With Nathan’s permission, I’m repeating his story here:

In May of 2010 I had the worst day of my life, my wife Elise was diagnosed with grade 3 brain cancer. Since her diagnosis, Elise has undergone brain surgery removing 70% of her right frontal lobe, after surgery she did 6 weeks of radiation with adjuvant chemotherapy, following all this she did an additional 12 months of higher dose chemotherapy. This past July she had an MRI that revealed her tumor was stable so her doctor is giving her a break from treatment. As of now the cancer that Elise was diagnosed with is not curable it is a disease that she will have to live with. This is why I choose to run the Twin Cities Marathon as an ACS DetermiNation runner. This is why I am raising money for the ACS, I want to do anything I can to help other people who’s lives have been affected by cancer. CANCER SUCKS! What Elise has gone through is something that no person on Earth should ever have to go through and endure. I am honestly inspired by her everyday, as of today she is starting her 2nd year of Law School at the end of August;  she worked part time this summer while taking 2 summer classes;  oh, and did I mention that she finished her 1st year of Law School while she was doing her chemotherapy treatments.

This will be my first marathon, the training is everything I thought that it would be; tough. No matter how much I suffer through those long runs I honestly believe it is nothing compared to what Elise has gone through. That is what motivates me through my training, just thinking of how many people are affected by cancer and how many lives it is taking away from us. I am running the marathon in honor of her and I just hope that this will inspire some of my fellow DetermiNation teammates to push you through the last weeks of training and the marathon. I want to take this time to thank the committee members and everyone on the team for what you are doing you are truly changing the course of cancer.”

Look at that beautiful couple. They look so healthy, so vibrant, so … young! When Elise was first diagnosed, she was 25, Nathan 24. She was one of 70,000 young adults, age 19-39, who are diagnosed with cancer every year. How could cancer strike one of them?

That’s just it – cancer doesn’t discriminate. It can strike anyone, anytime. That’s why we must keep working to find cures, treatments and preventative measures.

Meanwhile, Elise and Nathan are doing all they can to maintain normal lives and fight cancer every way they can. “Our faith and trust in God has gotten us through the last year and a half,” he said. Elise just started her second year of law school, and Nathan is gearing up for the longest run of his life.

When I asked him how long he has been a runner, he said, “I would not consider myself a runner before this year, definitely not a distance runner. I started running in September of 2010 because each year I have a physical test I need to pass. I am in the Air National Guard with the 148th Fighter Wing in Duluth, MN. The running part of the test was a 1.5 mile run. I would never run beyond that distance because I seriously disliked running. But when I started running more, I felt better physically and mentally, so I kept at it and started to like it.”

To date, Nathan’s longest race has been Grandma’s Half Marathon this past June. “I had a blast!” he said, “My goal was to run it under 2 hours and I did 1:49:31, so I was stoked and I felt great!”

Training for a marathon takes time. Most training programs for beginners are 16 to 18 weeks, and that assumes you’ve built a decent base of 15-20 miles per week before the program starts. During that time, you encounter many surprises. That’s even more true when someone close to you is battling cancer. What caught Nathan off guard?

“There have been a couple of things,” he said. “The first kind of covers everything that Elise and I have gone through since her diagnosis. There are so many good, loving, and caring people in our lives and in the world. It was overwhelming the way family, friends and coworkers showed their love and support for us. I even feel it when I realize how many people raise money for organizations like the American Cancer Society. It’s awesome.

“There are so many generous people too. I have found that lots of people love giving to the American Cancer Society – all you have to do is ask, and they most likely have their own story about cancer affecting their lives.

“Another thing that surprised me is the time and diligence you need to train for a marathon. The marathon is such a ridiculous distance to run that it keeps you honest. You have to prepare for it by eating right, getting your mileage in for the week, getting enough sleep, listening to your body and just being smart about training.”

Sounds like he’s learned a lot in just a little time.

If you would like to donate to Nathan’s DetermiNation campaign, here is his page.

Continue reading »]]> This post is dedicated to everyone who has ever donated to my cancer-fighting runs, cheered for me (in person, online or just in your heart), supported me through trying training runs, or inspired me to dig deeper and achieve more than I thought possible.

My wife and I were privileged to attend the American Cancer Society’s Fundraising Club Recognition Dinner last night. Being in the presence of 700 other volunteers who work tirelessly to raise money in the fight against cancer was awe-inspiring. But the night was so much more to me, and I wanted to share with you some of the thoughts that were going through my head as we listened to speakers, watched videos, and chatted with friends.

Because of you . . .

• 350 more people are alive this year to celebrate another birthday.
• Young, eager researchers are developing and testing innovative approaches to detecting, treating and curing cancer.
• The 175 people in Illinois who were diagnosed with cancer just yesterday will have access to more and better resources to help them cope with the physical, psychological and monetary challenges they now face.
• I listened – and cried – as a man just a few years older than me described how he felt when the doctor said, “Your daughter has cancer.” She was 11. She was also standing alongside him on the stage, periodically rubbing her hand on his back to give him strength as he fought back the emotions of reliving the past few years of the entire family’s battle with cancer.
• Forty-four Nobel prize winners have received funding from ACS. That’s more than all other non-profit organizations combined.
• I got to sit next to my biggest athlete hero, Kristin McQueen, who was sporting a shirt that proclaimed “CANCER IS BULLSHIT.” Kristin has been kicking cancer’s ass since she was diagnosed in 2003. In that time, she has endured 4 neck surgeries, 2 rounds of radiation, 7 brain surgeries and raised over $100,000 while completing numerous marathons and full Ironman triathlons, many of which were completed while she was undergoing treatment.
• One elderly woman, who couldn’t drive herself, was able to receive 200 trips to and from treatments for her breast cancer.
  

  It has my name, but it belongs to all of us. Thank you!

• I proudly led a procession of several hundred fundraisers on stage to receive a certificate or banner. Mine is shown at right. Note: the dollar amount and number of cities have already gone up. 
• Over 33,000 people in Illinois alone received services such as free wigs, rides to doctor visits, makeovers to help them feel pretty and boost their self-esteem as they fought through treatments, and advice on how to cope with the endless stream of medical bills.
• We are all “caregivers.” We may not be there to dress someone who is too weak from treatment, and we may not be there in person to comfort someone when she thinks she can’t take any more, but we are all still there by our own words and deeds.
• A one-year-old boy – diagnosed with a cancerous stomach tumor – survived the disease and the intense chemotherapy. He fought till he was 17 when, one week before his prom, he was diagnosed with leukemia and had to have a bone marrow replacement. He survived this, too, and now he is a leading researcher in the causes and treatments for leukemia.
• I listened – and cried – along with the 700 other attendees as a speaker read this touching blog post, written recently by my friend Ed. It’s posted on the new blog DetermiNators.org, which was conceived and launched by Ed, Sara and me to share stories like this, along with training and fundraising ideas for all “DetermiNators” – athletes who participate with DetermiNation.
• I no longer am embarrassed about crying in public. In fact, I prepare for it. My wife does too. As the featured speaker took the stage, she reached into her purse and whispered, “I’ll get the Kleenex for you.”

Because of you, we are making a difference. Thank you.

Continue reading »]]> “Freedom. Fun. Speed.”

So read a sign that I passed today on my five-mile run. The sign was in the AT&T Wireless store, and it was touting their latest … I don’t know … 87G, I’m-so-smart-you’ll-never-be-able-to-match-wits-with-me smartphone. But it struck me that “Freedom. Fun. Speed.” pretty much summed up how I was feeling.

Unlike most of my runs of late, today’s jaunt had no purpose. In fact, today was a scheduled rest day in advance of a big three-hour run tomorrow. But it was such a gosh-darned bee-yuu-tiful day, I couldn’t let it go by without doing my favorite pastime.

The freedom of having no set plan was exhilarating. I didn’t have to think about “step ups” where I run for a certain amount of time, then pick up the pace for another prescribed time, then step it up yet again. I didn’t have to monitor my heart rate. I wasn’t doing repetitious laps around a track with my watch beeping every 90 seconds to keep me on pace.

All I had to do was run.

To free myself even more, I ran one of my normal routes backwards, which is not to say I led with my butt; rather, I ran it in the opposite direction. Sort of like driving the Indy 500 with all right-hand turns … and some 200+mph slower. I really don’t do these reverse runs enough. When I do, I’m amazed at how different everything seems. It’s almost as if I’m seeing everything for the first time.

Adding to the fun of this newfound freedom was how I let my mind wander. There was no need to receive and process all the little signals my body was transmitting, and I wasn’t concerned about monitoring the small form tweaks that I’ve been working on.

All I had to do was run.

And speed? Ha! I didn’t care! I’ve already spent many, many hours running at 5 seconds per mile faster than marathon goal pace (that would be 7:30, if you’re curious), sometimes faster, just so my actual race pace will feel easy. (Well, as much as running 26.2 miles can ever feel “easy.”) Today was not about speed.

Today was about freedom, fun and not caring about speed. Instead of thinking in terms of splits, zones, cadence and footstrike, I thought …

“Now that Borders is closed, should I get an iPad? I really kinda want an iPad … even if I have no idea what I’d do with it.”

“Oh, the West End Art Fair is this weekend! Better figure out a way to keep MJ away from here.”

“There are lots of churches on this route. I should start a 5K race – call it the ‘Steeple Chase.’”

“Mmmm, there’s Q Barbeque. LOVE that place!”

“‘Cowboys and Aliens’ is playing at the theatre. What a stupid concept for a movie. But we haven’t gone to a movie in such a long time, I might be willing to give it a go.”

“I wonder why AT&T chose the tagline ‘Freedom. Fun. Speed.’ when ‘Freedom. Fun. Fast.’ has much better alliteration.”

Before I knew it, I was making the last left-hand turn onto my block. About 5 miles in about 38 minutes. The exact numbers didn’t matter. What did matter was I had a wonderful time on a gorgeous fall day. Terrific!

Continue reading »]]> It’s been too long since my last post, and I wish I had a more uplifting post for my return. But some of are delusional and think I never have a bad run, so I’ll put an end to that foolishness right now.

This morning I ran the Naperville Trails Half Marathon. I had rather high expectations going into it. Over the past two weeks, I’ve had some fantastic training runs in preparation for my next “A” race – the Twin Cities Marathon on Oct. 2. For example, just this past Tuesday, I ran 12 miles in 1 hour 27 minutes. That equates to a 1:36 half-marathon. And that was on a “step up” run where the first 30 minutes were at an easy pace, the next 30 were moderate, and the last 30 were at race pace.

My conditioning was high and my confidence was higher. When my coach and I talked on Friday, we agreed I was ready to “air it out” a bit for this race. We set a target time of 1:31, which would be a new personal record (PR) for me by over a minute. Ambitious, yes, but well within reach.

The Naperville Trails Half Marathon was a small-ish race of about 750. Even though it was small, they had pace leaders – people whose job it is to get you to the finish line is a prescribed time. The first pace group was 1:30, and pacers were at 5 minute intervals after that. With my goal of 1:31 and with me feeling supremely confident, I sidled up next to the 1:30 pace leader. I already knew the difference between 1:31 and 1:30 is only 4 seconds per mile – 6:52 vs. 6:56 – and I thought I could swing that. (So if you’re following along, I made a “game day” decision to go a minute faster than coach and I had discussed – apparently simply setting a new PR wasn’t enough on its own.)

Race time conditions were 74F with moderately high humidity. A smart man would’ve started a bit conservatively to gauge what effect the weather would have. I’m not that smart.

Complicating things, the first 1/4 mile was on grass that is usually used to train horses, so it was pocked with hoof marks and wet with dew. The pace leader, not wanting any of us to twist an ankle, started slowly till we got off of that and onto the crushed limestone trail, then he fell into his pace. When my Garmin beeped to mark the first mile, he asked, “Was that a mile?” because the course mile marker was nowhere in sight. About 1/4 mile later, we finally hit it. All of us agreed it was well off, since we had crossed that point in 7:55 (My Garmin had our first “true” mile in 7:12). Still, the pace leader was a little freaked once he realized he couldn’t trust the mile markers, and he didn’t have a GPS watch to get an accurate pace. He picked up the pace noticeably, and we crossed mile 2 (according to my Garmin) in 6:41 – a full 11 seconds faster than target pace…and a pace that equates to a 1:27 half-marathon!

Mile 3 (by my Garmin) was 6:50 – still faster than my already-faster-than-planned pace – and I was already laboring. On top of that, the strap for my HR monitor kept sliding down my chest. I kept tugging it back up, using precious energy each time I had to adjust. Just after mile 3, I said, “screw it!” and let the stupid strap fall down around my gut.

By mile 4, I dropped off the 1:30 pace leader (the only other person who had started with him dropped in mile 3). Despite the fact that I had eaten well yesterday and last night, and had had my usual race morning meal (banana and a bagel with peanut butter and jam, washed down with a bottle of Hammer Electrolyte Fizz), by mile 5 I was getting woozy. By mile 6, the 1:35 pace leader caught me. I tried to stay with him and his pack, but my brain was telling me I couldn’t. They dropped me easily within 1/2 mile.

In mile 7, I was trying to regroup and find a pace that felt comfortable, thinking I could still recover and get back to around 1:35, but then I felt a twinge in my left ankle. Every step was a little shot of pain. That lasted till mile 9, and during those 2 miles I alternated periods of walking and stretching with running. Somewhere after mile 9, as quickly as it came on, the twinge disappeared. But by then, I was toast, physically and mentally. I watched a few guys pass me who I thought were probably in my age group. I’d try to latch onto them, but I couldn’t even hold an 8:00 pace. Just not my day.

Now, recall my original goal was 1:31. When I checked the official results, I discovered that 1:31.40 would have taken 2nd in my age group. Even a 1:36 – the pace I ran earlier in the week during a regular training run – would’ve taken 3rd. But alas, I limped in at 1:45.40, my worst half marathon in years.

Had I been smart, I would’ve
1) trusted my own pace-setting ability (I’m usually pretty good at hitting pace goals), or
2) started with the 1:35 group and picked it up later as I felt up to it.

I’m so disappointed in myself and sad that let my coaches down. This is the 2nd race where they’ve put me in position to run strong, and I couldn’t pull it off. The half-Ironman was the other. (I also had a sub-par race in the Boston Marathon, but I’m not counting it here because I was good mentally and physically there, but nutrition messed me up.)

Speaking of nutrition, I need to continue working on it. At the end of the race today, both of my calves were twitching like crazy, and 5 hours later they were still twitching now. I ate a good meal with plenty of protein after the race; I drank a lot of water and downed electrolytes. Not sure what to make of this.

So, my “take aways” from this race:

• I usually have 1 or 2 really bad runs shortly before a marathon. I’m definitely counting this as one. I’m not going to let it shake the confidence I have in nailing a 3:20 marathon.
• I have to trust myself more and run my own race.
• I need to start conservatively for a few miles till I find my groove.
• I can’t let my guard down on nutrition for a minute!

Just three weeks to go till Twin Cities. One more big “build” week, then a two-week taper into the marathon. I’m putting today behind me and looking ahead.

Continue reading »]]> Last Saturday, I completed my first 70.3 mile triathlon. You can read that race report here. This post is about things I saw or experienced during the race.

Some things I wonder, some I suspect, and some I just know.

• For me, a little DetermiNation makes all the difference between pushing on and stopping.
• Getting passed by a 56-year-old man pisses me off, but getting passed by a 71-year-old man inspires me.
• When an official says something in the pre-race talk like “the wind usually favors cyclists after you make the final turn,” don’t believe him.
• When you’re standing at the water’s edge, waiting to begin the swim leg of your race, if you look at the legs of other athletes, you’ll see 1/3 have pee running down them.
• If swallowing a mouthful of lake water is remotely close to the feeling you get from a waterboarding, I never want to be a suspected terrorist.
• In the swim leg, there’s always one asshole doing a sort of backwards breast stroke.
• He will smack you in the face with his foot or arm.
• As a novice triathlete, is there anything sweeter than passing a guy with one of those aerodynamic “conehead” helmets?
• Or more humbling than getting passed multiple times on a flat section of road by a 57-year-old woman with cellulite calves who outweighs you by at least 40 pounds?


I'M NOT '50' YET!

• The best mental diversion in a triathlon is looking at the number that has been written in permanent marker on the left calf of every competitor, indicating his or her age.
• Having “50” branded on my leg hurt more than anything I endured during the race. I’M NOT 50 YET!!
• On a hot, humid summer day, there are few things more pungently ripe than a hog farm.
• Volunteers are fantastic.
• In general, triathletes offer more words of encouragement to one another than marathoners.
• I am a much friendlier and encouraging runner than triathlete.
• During an intense bike ride, the human sinus system excretes 382 milliliters of snot per hour. At least mine does.
• Approximately half of that mucus will wind up on your jersey; more if you try to eject it while in the aero position.
• Before the race, look at the course map to see where the porta-potties will be, even if you’re certain you won’t need them.
• Volunteers are wonderful.
• Having cute girls wearing latex gloves rub sunscreen over your arms and neck is disconcertingly erotic.
• If it feels like you’re flying on the bike leg with hardly any effort, don’t think it’s your superior training; the wind is at your back.
• Soon, it won’t be. Then we’ll talk about your superior training.
• If you go to pee and all that comes out is 5 drops of a viscous neon orange liquid, you need to drink more. A lot more.
• Never, ever try some new food during a race. This includes any change in the mixture of a drink that has previously worked for you.
• Whoever thought it a great idea to hold triathlons in the heart of the hottest months of the year was a sadist.
• If you relish the roar of the crowd, don’t take up triathloning.
• If a woman bumps into you during the swim leg, she’ll move around around you. If a man does, he’ll continue swimming over you.
• How is it possible to get a sunburn on one side of your body on an out-and-back course?
• On a hot day with the sun beating down, a sponge dipped in ice-cold water is a wonderful thing.
• After you’ve soaked your head, dip the sponge back into the cold water and squeeze it over the head of the volunteer who gave it to you. She or he will squeal, but they’ll love it too.
• Ironman-branded races cost a bit more, but damn they do a great job of putting on an event. (But come on! You seriously can’t exchange the give-away shirt if it’s the wrong size? Do I look like a “large”?)
• People who name porta-potty companies have a twisted sense of humor. Drop Zone, Oui Oui, Leprecan, Doody Calls and Honey Buckets are but a few of the bad examples.
• Volunteers are awesome.
• How is it possible for some people to swim so damn fast?
• I’m proud of my niece for whupping my ass – and pissed that she did. I’ll get you yet, you little whippersnapper!
• Even if two-thirds of your race were horrific, frustrating and disappointing, running the last 1/3 with an old friend can make the day worthwhile.
• As a general rule, female runners have better butts than female triathletes. I could name names, but it would be easier for you to follow the women on @krzimmer’s runnerds list
• Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” is a great song. Until about the 87th time it loops through your head.
• Ditto for Queen’s “Bicycle Race.”
• How is it possible for some people to ride a bike so damn fast?
• No man alive looks good in a racing unitard. None.
• It’s never about “physical.” It’s always about “mental.”
• Five hours into a race, nothing tastes quite so good as a potato chip.
• Immediately after that same race, nothing tastes quite so good as a cold beer. (So where the hell was it?!)
• You can tell yourself, “It’s not the machine that matters; it’s the engine,” but when men and women are flying by you on bikes that cost 3-5 times more than yours, some doubt will enter your mind.
• Giving a little kid a high five and seeing his face light up would warm the cockles of even the Grinch’s heart.
• Doing a triathlon makes me more exhausted, but running a marathon makes me more sore.
• There will likely be at least one time during the race when you think you won’t finish.
• You will.