Training Diary, Day 5

Day off.

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Training Diary, Day 4

.24 mi; 4:35:78; 18:50 min/mi; 20 cals; warm up walk before tire

5:14 mi; 1:49:06; 21:14 min/mi; 500 cals; walk with tire and winter coat around Burbank. Tough.

7.36 mi; 1:48:07; 14:41 min/mi; 700 cals; powerwalk with nice shirtless, short-shorts guy from online. BHS track. Got invited to SA Frontrunners group at Witte Museum parking garage at 9 am Sunday. I want to go.


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Training Diary; Day 3

5.69 mi; 1:25:44; 15:04 min/ mi; 500 cals; walk/run around BHS and track. Knee has been a little tender. Not really running much or pushing it. Blah.

5.00 mi; 51:29:36; 10:17 min/mi; 500 cals; walk/run around Burbank track. Man in red shirt tried racing me. He couldn't hold his pace and stopped.

.52 mi; 12:17:58; 23:51 min/mi; 50 cals; walk home.

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Training Diary, Day 2

2.83 mi; 49:44:56; 17:35 min/mi; 280 cals; walk around BHS.

.60 mi; 9:50:94; 16:48 min/mi; 60 cals; short walk around block, saw Mormon men.

.62 mi; 15:24:21; 24:42 min/mi; 60 cals; short little walk at night. BHS

5 mi; 1:02:50; 12:34 min/mi; 500 cals; run around BHS track in sandals.


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Training Diary, Day 1

Well, I am signed up for the Mogollon Monster 100 on September 25, in Pine, AZ. It's going to be a fun race. But I need to get my ass into gear with my training. I want to run this 100 miler and I want to run it well. No excuses. Just solid running. I have time to prepare. From here on out, I will post my daily training on my blog. If I am the only one who reads this, then that is fine, too, because at least I am holding myself accountable. Let the fun begin!

5.52 mi; 1:13:15; 13:16 mi/min; 500 cals; road run, some hills, around Burbank. A cop stopped me and asked me about my Hoka Shoes. Think I sold a pair to him!

4.5 mi; 1:00:00; -- mi/min; 450 cals; road walk/run around Burbank. Ran with purple mohawk guy behind me. Feel unfit, but optimistic and charged. This run was just about hitting a daily mileage goal.

2.5 mi; 34:31:26; 13:49 min/mi; 250 cals; run/walk with the tire. Cool, breezy, cloudy day. Pretty sunset!

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The Dry Spell and How to Snap Out of It

I'm in some kind of dry spell. Running is tedious. I still enjoy it, but physically, I get burned out after a few miles. Some days it even feels like an obligation to get out and get going. I'm not sleeping well. My diet is off; I'm eating too much. I'm gaining weight. I think maybe I'm depressed. Wah-wah.

So what do I do? Here is my plan to get myself out of this funk:

1) Document what I eat on the Livestrong app - I find that I eat less and I eat better when I record what I put in my mouth. It makes me more conscious of what I'm putting in my body and how much of it I'm putting in.

2) Write in my running journal on a daily basis - I used to document all of my runs. I need to get back to it. It made me proud to look back on my workouts. It made me more eager to get back out there and put in some miles.

3) Keep a weight loss chart - This tool, when I was losing weight, made me proud of my accomplishments. It was encouraging and motivational.

4) Wind down at 11 pm tonight - I will drink some decaf hot herbal tea. I will not eat after 8 pm. I will put on my RelaxMelodies app and have lights and devices off by 11 pm.

Hopefully all these things together will help me feel better about myself and set me back on track. They have worked in the past and I see no reason why they shouldn't work now.

Location:San Antonio,United States

Nueces 50 Mile Race Report

On Saturday, March 3, 2012, I had the pleasure of running 50 miles in the Nueces River Valley, on the western edge of the Texas Hill Country. As usual, Joe and Joyce Prusaitis put on an extraordinary ultramarathon. Their races truly are top-notch, both in terms of the course itself - which is beautiful - and in terms of the organization, volunteer staff, and aid the runners receive. I saw many familiar faces on the trail and at the aid stations, including newly-weds Doug and Jazzy Ratliff (congrats you two!)

My goal going into this race was to just have fun. I wanted to go out there and get caught up in the beauty of being out on the trail - to just do my own thing and listen to my music on my iPod and have a blast. And I did just that.

I drove out to Camp Eagle on Friday, checked in and got my race tags, and parked my car in the camping area and ate oranges and almonds and watched episodes of the Golden Girls on my laptop until it was time to sleep. By 5 am, I was well-rested and ready to start my adventure. I got all my gear together (which wasn't very much: one water bottle, a headlamp, nipple guards, and my iPod. That is really all you need to run 50 miles on Joe's well-organized course) and headed towards the start line.

The first few miles of an ultra are always my favorite miles. Everyone is excited and fresh. You have your headlamps and flashlights out. You feel like you are embarking into the the unknown and you feel anxious and happy, and maybe even a little scared, all at the same time.

Now, if you haven't been on the trails at Camp Eagle, let me tell you you something about them: they are tough! Okay, maybe not that tough, but they are definitely challenging. There are some big climbs throughout the course, and you feel absolute relief when you get to the top of a big hill because by then you have just had it with climbing! Then, you get to the quad-punishing downhill! And the trail is not smooth. It is rocky. You've never seen so many rocks in your life (unless, of course, you have run the Cactus Rose 100 at Bandera).

But, what rugged beauty! More climbs means more scenic views. You get to the top of one hill and you can see a beautiful expanse of the Texas Hill Country. You get to the top of another hill, and what is waiting for you on top? A giant, beautiful creaking windmill set against the rising Texas sun! This course has it all: water (you run along the river for a short portion of the course), bridge crossings (there is one long suspension bridge that you get to run across and several other smaller crossings), and wildlife.

On the last point about wildlife, let me tell you a short anecdote before wrapping up this race report. At about mile 42, I found myself face to face with a big buck standing right in the middle of the trail. Off to the side was a fawn. They both stood staring at me, no more than 10 feet away. I took a step toward the buck, hoping he might move. He didn't. He just stood there. Staring. Now, I've seen one too many YouTube videos of deer going crazy and standing up on their hind legs and attacking with their front legs to take this situation lightly. I mean, come on, I've just run 42 miles! I am tired as hell and have the strength of a marshmallow Peep. If that deer attacked me, I was totally defenseless. Worst case scenario: there were plenty of rocks to defend myself with!

But after a few second of just standing there, regarding each other with mistrust and probably waiting for the other to make the first move to get us out of this situation, I decided to take action. I ran at the deer with my hands in the air and screamed. The thing ran away. And so did I. As I ran towards the finish line, I smiled at what turned out to be a fun little adventure.

Ultrarunning and Life, the Game of Inches

It's well past my bedtime, but I'm awake and I can't stop thinking about running. I keep playing out Badwater in my head: what it must be like to run the race. If I close my eyes, I can see Death Valley. I am running and I can see the road ahead narrowing off into - where? What lies beyond the road except more road? And I can hear the patter of my own feet as they come down on the blacktop. Feel the heat radiating against my legs, and not just my legs, but everywhere really. The inescapable grasp of some awesome power. My God. The One I pray to before every run. The One to whom I offer up my daily sweat.

And after these visions comes the pain of the yearning, because, inevitably, the feelings turn physical and all I can do, as always, is go for a run.

Now, I've just finished watching a clip on YouTube. It is from the football movie, "Any Given Sunday." Al Pacino plays the coach of an NFL team, and towards the end of the movie, he and his team find themselves in an impossible situation: they are down and have little chance of coming back to win. During a locker room break (the locker room break, the typical sports movie Big Speech Moment), Pacino gathers his players and coaching staff around to deliver one last speech.

It's is one of the most stirring, powerfully affecting speeches I've ever heard in a sports movie partly because it avoids most of the sentimental traps typical for the genre (it still remains recognizably a Big Speech Moment) and partly because Pacino is still capable of delivering a tough, fine performance.

He talks about football being a game of inches, how when you find yourself in the depths of hell, when you are down and out, all you can do is fight to claw your way out, inch by inch. You have to be willing, he says, to fight and die for each inch.
Anyone who has suffered hard to get to where they want (need) to be knows, instinctively, what he means. It's not just about football. His words get under your skin and even deeper - they get down to the bone - because he is talking about life. He is talking about you and me and the game we all play.

I've come to realize how trivial and unimportant Badwater must seem to many (most) people. But surely there is something in your life that burns you up, consumes you. Surely you've wanted something so badly that you were willing to do anything to make it real. I think the desire to achieve - and eventually, the striving for that achievement - is what largely defines our characters. What we do defines who we are. What's your goal?

The goal should be something worth striving for. Something that gives us great satisfaction. Something more substantial and enriching than money, fame, or sex. Maybe the goal is to help others: that must be extremely satisfying. Maybe it's to climb a mountain or cross a desert. Maybe it's to be a good father or mother, a devoted wife or husband. Whatever the goal is, and there can and should be several in our lives, we should desire it passionately, and then strive for it inch by inch. Live for it and love it. And maybe one day we can look back and say, "I've done it. I've accomplished something worthwhile."

That must make for a good life.

The Ethics of a Hamburger: Man Has Heart Attack While Eating at Heart Attack Grill

I recently saw an item on ABC News about a restaurant called the Heart Attack Grill in Las Vegas. A man suffered some sort of cardiac episode (possibly a heart attack) while eating a 6,000 calorie burger called the Triple Bypass. Jon Basso, the owner of the restaurant - who acknowledges that the food he serves is unhealthy, dangerous, and possibly lethal - seemed remarkably calm about and unmoved by the ordeal. The whole damn story left me feeling unspeakably depressed; it made me want to go out into the fresh air, go for a run, eat an apple, and sigh for society.

What got to me wasn't so much the attitudes of the customers, who seemed amused and intrigued by the place. It's understandable that people would be curious; the joint has a morbid sense of humor about its business: diners wear hospital gowns, the wait staff dresses in nurses' uniforms (the owner dresses like a doctor), there is a weigh-in station where customers clocking in at over 350 lbs. eat free, and now, after this recent episode, customers can eat at the-place-where-that-guy-had-a-heart-attack. No, it doesn't surprise me that people would want to patronize this curiosity. But, what does surprise me, what does get under my skin and tick me off, is the attitude of the the owner. Mr. Basso seems to think this is all good fun, a good-for-business chance happening that will certainly seal the Grill's reputation as a place to get really greasy fast food.

It's all supposed to be really cute, but I'm not laughing. Obesity is a real problem. Think of all the people you know - family members, friends, public figures, politicians, celebrities - who have died of a heart attack or stroke or whose lives have been diminished by heart disease. Think of the all the surgeries, the drugs, the medical bills, the lost time. Am I the only one who finds all this incredibly sad?

And yet, Mr. Basso will have good grounds - certainly legal grounds - to defend his business. "Anything that is legal that you want to eat or drink that's fun, that enriches your life at the moment, I will sell it to you," he said. But, that doesn't cut it. Precisely because he knows just how unhealthy his menu items are, Mr. Basso is faced with an ethical dilemma that reaches beyond the question of legal compliance. His moral argument is that people are responsible for their own food choices.

He is, of course, right, but that doesn't mean he isn't a sleaze. Just because people are ultimately responsible for what they put in their bodies - and they certainly are responsible for that - doesn't mean Mr. Basso is off the hook. In cashing in on America's food problem, he becomes the worst kind of social parasite, someone who is willing to take advantage of the obesity epidemic in America just to make a buck.

Places like the Heart Attack Grill are not the root of the problem (they aren't: one hamburger, even one as big as the Triple Bypass, cannot, on its own, cause a heart attack; and people surely know going in that the food is unhealthy, and yet still they go), but they certainly are not part of the solution. If nothing else, a place like the Heart Attack Grill presents us with manifest proof of a cruel irony: that tragedies like heart attacks are now accepted as commonplace and "normal" when "normal" should mean living a long, full, and healthy life.

My 100 Mile Adventure in the Cayman Islands

I had the opportunity to run 100 miles in theCayman Islands and to meet some extraordinary people. The experience is one I will treasure for the rest of my life. The man who organized this event, James Murray, and his girlfriend, Lauren, are among the nicest, most gracious people I have ever met. They showed me around their beautiful island, from it's crystal clear blue waters and white-as-snow sand to it's delectable cuisine.

My first impression of Cayman was that it was alive, full of gusto and energy. Cars were honking, the sun was ablaze in the blemishless eternity-blue sky, tourists were going this way and that. The place had a musical pulse, a syncopated rhythm of time and energy where even the most mundane things - a wall, a corner building, the lamp post - came to life in unexpected ways. A splash of color here, movement there. Oh, look an iguana crossing the road! And is that a parrot in the trees? My heart skipped a beat faster just to keep up.

To run in the Cayman Islands was a joy. Even more than that, it was life-changing (that's no exaggeration). But, when you attempt something of this magnitude, the results usually are life-changing. Not that I haven't run 100 miles before. I've stabbed at the distance five times before, and each time has been meaningful, shaping me little by little and helping me grow more and more. But, I've never done anything on this level before. The purpose behind A Crazy Idea - as the project was lovingly called - was to benefit the Cayman Island Diabetes Association.

Diabetes runs in my family. My dad has it. My aunt has it. I am at risk for diabetes. It is sort of the unspoken epidemic in Cayman, and indeed, the United States as well. There is no cure for diabetes, but there is certainly hope for management of it. Through patient education, the appropriate use of medications, and lifestyle alterations, including the incorporation of sensible exercise and a balanced diet, diabetes can be managed effectively. Our goal was to be a part of that education process, to bring diabetes to the public consciousness and get people on the island thinking and talking about their health. No one wants to be told they are eating the wrong foods and that their lack of exercises is killing them. But, these are truths we cannot afford to ignore.

Our message had to be bold. Running 100 miles is pretty bold, I think. And we got the attention of the local media - the newspaper, social media, and radio stations. Dozens of people came out to see us off. It was quite an event! Some people stayed up with us all through the night, pacing us, getting us food and drink and anything else we needed during the run. As for myself, I had a blast. I ran with Steve, a lawyer in Cayman who offered to write a letter of commendation to the dean of my law school. Steve ran by my side in flip flops into the wee hours of the night. A spectacular guy!

I ran with Sarah, a tough and energetic woman who kept me going through the most trying parts of the journey. We sang the entire soundtrack to "Sister Act" before moving on to Disney songs. She would make a strong, strong ultrarunner herself. She has the right stuff. There was also Adam, who came on the scene with a smile and energy that proved infectious. He ran by my side through the night and I felt good just having him with me.

Not once did I feel any negative energy out there. All good vibes, baby! People were cheering along the route. Cars were honking. It was a big party! When the run did get tough - and it did get tough - I was able to look to my companions for strength. At certain points in the run, the heat got to me. Temperatures reached into the 100s and the humidity was near 80%. But, the overall experience was never unpleasant. Even though I was having a hard time, I thought about all the people that were counting on me. I thought about James, who was just ahead of me, fighting his own battle. I continued on.

The final miles were a frenzied blur of excitement. It seemed as if the whole community had come out to see us finish. The cheering carried me through to the finish line, despite my aching legs. I hugged James and my entire crew. It was an awesome feeling. I can't help but feel that we made a real difference out there, that we inspired people to take up their own physical challenge. If we inspired just one person to come up with their own "crazy idea" then it was all worth it. After wards, person after person came up to tell me thank you and that they felt if we could run 100 miles, they could at least do a few themselves.