A
brief background: January 26th
(Thursday) was my 23rd birthday. Last year, I ran 22 miles to celebrate my
birthday...a tradition that I have no intention to cease! As the route of the
Run For Glory Part I - RFG I - Tyler Socash made a spectacular running route
that was a Tour De Rochester.
The
Route: RFG II. The primary destination
for this run is my Mom's grave, in Temple Beth El cemetery in Portland...11.23
miles in the most direct route by foot. I would say this is pretty amazing,
considering I thought of the destination a month in advance and clicked
Point A (Home) and Point B (Cemetery) and got almost
exactly half of 23 miles.
Pretty much perfect, I would say. But, if you look at
last year's
route you will quickly learn that the RFG
route is comprised of as many possible destinations within the given distance.
I was able to fit in nearly 10 checkpoints of importance within the 23 mile
jaunt that was based off of a single destination.
Once
again I dedicate this run to both my Dad and Mom. My Dad's determination and
ability to remain as positive he has over the past year is moving well beyond
simply being inspirational. He prevailed in a fight that brought him to some
very, very grave situations on multiple accounts. This year's route is a
tribute to my Mom, Deb, who passed away in 2008 of lung cancer in a battle that
was two days short of the longest and shortest year of my life.
:::::The Run For Glory - Part II:::::
The
preparations: Yet again, I had no
intention to stop the entirety of the run. With my Dad in the hospital
recently, training took a backseat and actually helped me prepare and rest a
bit better for the run than I otherwise would have. I drove home Wednesday from
being down in Boston with my Dad, ate a simple pasta dinner and relaxed to
watching Fight Club, a
classic. I couldn't sleep too great but got to bed at 1AM and woke up at 8:15
for the 11:00AM departure. I went downstairs and fed the dogs, getting
breakfast (toast/PB/banana) ready, and staying relaxed. My first birthday
present came unsuspected! My dog peed on the floor shortly after eating...a
sign that today's run was going to blow, or that I was getting the rough stuff
out of the way. I ate breakfast while cleaning up the mess, in order to neither
sacrifice my eating plan nor the floor of my kitchen!
I
showered and got a little stretch/rolling of the ITB in and took about four
more than expected, but extremely
necessary, pre-run weight drops that could have hit me hard about 10-15
miles in. I aimlessly hung around situating what I would be wearing (it was
going to be a heat-wave, 34F with some wind - but wind above 30F has only
slight effect), and getting my nutrition set. This was my first run ever that I
would be taking in a legitimate amount of fluids and calories, I had done it
many times cycling and was not very concerned with adverse effects. I then
talked to my sister a bit online, as it was almost 5PM for her.
At 10:15
I grabbed my Generation UCAN pre run mix and had that while I picked up Owen
Lisa at Maine Running Co in Portland, where he would accompany me for the first 8-10 miles.
Back home
with Owen at 10:45. I changed up into gear, filled a pocket with nutrition, and
hit the bathroom one last time. Asked my brother to drop a bottle of water,
Shot Blocks, and a GU at the cemetery...then it was go time.
The
Departure: In the same fashion as I have hundreds, or even thousands,
of times before I left the garage bay at 12 Coveside for pretty much just another
run. This one is definitely the most special run I've had from home, by both
inner meaning and the physical undertaking.
The
Plan: As I just happened to finish the 22 miler last year in exactly 2:50:00 (unintentional, I hit the
button and looked down and was quite surprised), my goal is to run my birthday
in 2:50:00...until I get a 2:50 Marathon. This would require a pace of
7:23.5/mi, definitely doable after I already did 19.5 @ 7:16. Because the route
I made ended up as a planned 23.36mi, that would
Mile
1: (7:08) Both Owen and I were well aware that a pace of 7:23
would be more than manageable for my 23.6 miles, so there was no stressing at
all over starting pace. We both had Garmins on, which made monitoring the pace
pretty simple. Out from Coveside and South on RT88. At a half mile we were
moving just above 7:00, and we chatted briefly about it being a fast start. I
felt totally relaxed (even though the run was only 1/47th completed). We hit
the 1 mile mark that I knew all too well in a pace that was notably faster than
my A goal. [Start: Cumberland]
Mile
2: (7:04) Hit this one quick as well, and Owen suggested we
back off - smart man! We did, but the next mile was very downhill and I was
sure we'd have a fast one with little effort. [Cumberland - Falmouth]
Mile
3: (7:03) Downhill, but really easy from backing off. Really
nice feeling nothing effort-wise from hitting near 7-flat.
Mile
4: (7:16) This mile was one of the
hardest of the run, geographically. Uphill 3-3.5 and 3.75-4. Still held 7:16 without
trying to push. Nice to know that early on things were clipping off so easily
(B Goal was 7:23 pace).
Mile
5: (7:14) Thanks to my good friend,
Coreen, I had a bottle of water waiting for me at mile 19 or so, which is also
mile 4 and change. I already felt weirdly parched, likely due to the slight
sore throat I had that morning and the dry air. Owen kindly ran ahead, snagged
the bottle, and I got 4oz in or so...enough to keep the sore throat from
bothering me. It also set me up really well to take in a gel (GU Roctane). Owen
said
Half
hour. Take in anything yet?". I hadn't, and this guy knows fueling DAMN
well - he lays down a 9:02 Ironman and closes in a 3:15 Marathon (including
walks + bathroom) which was our current pace. The Roctane went down easily,
and from there I committed to taking something in approximately every
30min. Once we had already developed a "big" cushion, even on
7:16 pace. We really made a solid effort to hold it right around that level;
7:15 was the 'plan' for the next 5-10 miles.
Mile
6: (7:18) Sooo...there was a
box-spring on the running path on Tukey's Bridge (connection of Falmouth to
Portland). We saw something up ahead and were confused. Owen, once again as the
great companion he is, surged ahead to lean it against the railing so I could
go through in stride. It was a surprising thing to 'run' into, which made us
wonder how the hell it got there. Now in Portland! [Falmouth - Portland]
Mile
7: (7:14) Good ol' Veranda Street.
Nothing difficult, but it has this little kicker of a hill that always bugs me when I ride
into the Sat AM Group Ride out of CycleMania. After I muttered something about
this, Owen and I started trying to figure out where I would hit some hills. We
thought pretty darn hard, and didn't come up with all that much. Noting the
fact that we struggled to figure out what hills I would hit, we laughed at how
flat of a route I would be taking (I didn't go out of the way at all to map an
"easy" route. I had one destination, and it was going to be pretty
much an A to B run).
Mile
8: (7:14) Nick met us on his way from
Maine Running Company (MRC) - where we both work - on the Boulevard. For those
not local, the boulevard/Back Cove is a classic running area in Portland and
I'm glad I could make it part of my run. As we navigated the puddles that were
basically nasty clay water, I took in another Roctane - which Nick kindly
brought me...free of charge. I told him if I missed my goal time he'd be seeing
cash come his way. I had the gel and some water he brought for me, and he was
nice enough to hold the bottle while I wasn't drinking.
Mile
9: (7:26) "Holy crap that was slow!" - and my
original goal pace was 7:23, it was solidified that 7:16 would be my bare
minimum expectation now. This mile had a hill none of us were expecting: from
8-9 it was literally constant uphill, a gain of 100ft on side roads that had
sub-optimal footing. Nothing crazy, but definitely a legitimate one for this
route. This mile cruised very closely by my Aunt and Uncle's house, a very
close friend's old house whose mom passed away from cancer as well, and by a
property my mom sold while a real estate agent.
Mile
10: (7:05) Owen's last mile, got some
good downhill after the last one and things moved
very smoothly...despite
crossing Brighton Ave between a few cars. We hit Stevens Ave in good stride and
Owen bid us adieu, wishing me a good second half to the run. As I
mentioned Owen is a 9:02 Ironman and an article just came out about him in the
Forecaster <---Check it out! I took another GU Roctane once
Owen departed and had some of the water Nick was carrying for me.
Mile
11: (7:04) Nick and I were cruising
along, pulling out seemingly effortless splits. I will be honest that I didn't
know the level of fitness Nick would be in, and wasn't sure if he'd be joining
for just a few miles or 5+. This ended up working out well for him as running
with me was going to be his last real work before the Mid Winter Classic 10
Miler. His plan is to go 65-70min, but after putting in two miles of near
7-flat pace and being completely conversational...he's going to be pushing the
65 minute time, no doubt there. At this point we were onto Congress St and
headed towards the primary destination, Temple Beth El Cemetery. Nick and I ran
the snow-ridden sidewalks uphill without losing any real time on this mile.
Mile
12: (7:09) The entire purpose for
this route. It is a place that you never really 'want' to go, but a place to
which you will never really hesitate going. There are many, many things that
remind me so well of my Mom and so it is extremely easy to remember and smile
or laugh. Regardless, there is something different about the proximity of being
close to someone. I guess that is precisely why we have cemeteries; it’s really
that simple...you just don’t recognize it until that sort of scenario comes
your way. We ran into the cemetery and turned to the right around the circle
that encompasses most of the graves. Halfway up the right side I stopped and
looked in just above the bushes that are along the same line as my Mom, trying
to best estimate where to go in the snow covered flat. In this cemetery there
are no headstones, but plaques, so in winter it is difficult to pinpoint where
the actual plaque is. Fortunately, a memento my grandparents left on my Mom’s
birthday was peeking out of the snow and easily showed me the exact spot to
where I was headed.
Let me digress
and add that there is not just the significance of my Mother’s resting place,
but immediately next to her is the plaque that marks both my Dad’s father (Hy)
and his twin (Sam, my Dad’s uncle). My Dad’s father had esophageal cancer in
the early 1980’s and survived an extremely low survival procedure, something
around 5% at the time. He was deemed cured, as he had many years of being
cancer-free thereafter. Nearly a decade later he was diagnosed with prostate
cancer, which eventually claimed his life. I have some recollection of my grandfather,
but sadly I was too young to really have known him well. As for my
grandfather’s twin, he is not actually buried in the Temple Beth El Cemetery
but has his name on the plaque for he lived much of his life in Portland.
Finally, next to my Mom and on the same plaque is a plot for my Dad, a plot
that he very nearly came to meet on multiple accounts within the last year. He
was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia on December 28, 2010. There
were some very grave times between his diagnosis and his eventual, and thus far
very successful, bone marrow transplant during which the focus became the next
few days versus figuring out things over the next few months. In similar
fashion as his father, my Dad has battled very strongly and is doing extremely
well with no current signs of cancer from both his blood and his bone marrow.
Here I
was standing in the path in the cemetery facing my Mom, my grandfather, and his
twin. I slowly and silently walked through the snow towards my Mom, just as I
have done so many times before. I turned to where the plaque would lie
underneath the snow and as I began to crouch down I could see a small hole
melted through the snow. Through that hole I could see the dark, rippled metal
of a plaque. From where I was standing, I knew without a doubt that it was my
Mom’s plaque. I kneeled down in the snow and was completely calm and seemingly
silent despite being halfway through the 23 miles at a pace I had no intent of
running at from the getgo. For those few moments I felt detached from myself
and had no sense of fatigue or tiredness whatsoever. After reflecting and
paying my respects I kissed my hand and pressed it to the cold steel, stayed
kneeled for a moment, and once again walked silently away from my Mom in the
same fashion as I walked through the snow.
After
returning to the path Nick and I searched for and found the nutrition my
brother had left for me minutes earlier: shot blocks, a GU, and water. We
continued the run by completing the circle around the cemetery; Nick said to me
that it was great that I included visiting my Mom in this run, but since the
moment I thought of a route this was the only way I could have imagined it
happening. We exited the cemetery and I realized that I felt extremely fresh
and both physically and emotionally energized, when stopping mid-run usually
causes more discomfort than relaxation. It’s pretty amazing what a simple
thought or uplifting experience can do for you.
Mile 13: (7:16)
Back down Congress St to Stevens Ave, we continued at a comfortable pace. I
took in another GU (Espresso Love) and slugged some more water. I still didn’t
feel any need to get in calories, but was well aware of the benefit it would provide
within an hour’s time. After the silence that ensued from the visit to the
cemetery, we began to chat again…mainly about cycling and how Nick is shocked
that with my body type I manage to run as well as I do. He told me I should
really have a go at track cycling, which I think would be an absolute blast.
Mile 14:
(7:15) From Stevens Ave to Noyes St. Along Brighton Ave we ran by Brighton
Medical Center (part of Maine Med), where my Mom had many scans done during her
battle with lung cancer. I had also been in this very building quite recently;
Maine Med’s orthopedics division is here and I had met my doctor during the
recovery from my broken clavicle, which made the preparation for this run much
more difficult than it would have otherwise been. Just towards the end of this
mile we were cruising along the downhill that was the uphill that caused our
slow 9th Mile, and there was a train coming through that was
blocking the way. I cursed it at first sight and Nick asked what was wrong…I
pointed ahead and he said “what are we going to do?” my retort was “Well, we
sure as hell aren’t going to stop running.” We kept our stride heading towards
the train and when we were less than 50 meters from impact I let out a sigh of
relief and literally jumped for joy
at the unbelievable coincidence that was gracing us. We did not let up one bit
as the train fully passed the street. I wasn’t sure what the delay would be for
the crossbeams to lift (there was also one blocking the sidewalk). As we were
10-15 feet away it began to lift and passing under it, I reached up mid-stride
and tapped the beam with my hand, laughing about how crazy the situation was. I
have been stopped many times due to train crossings, and the one time I really really did not want to be
interrupted – it was perfect timing.
Mile 15:
(7:15) When creating this route I was trying to find places of significance to
make as checkpoints. And with the primary destination being 11.25 miles away
from my house, I didn’t have all that much flexibility. I knew my parents had
lived in Portland in their first house together, but wasn’t sure where, so I
asked my Dad what the address was: 101 Dartmouth Street. It was barely out of the way from my out/back
to the cemetery and I’d be able to add it in without extending much past 23
miles. When mapping it out, I saw there was both Devonshire and Noyes streets
(my little sister’s middle name is Devon, and my Mom’s maiden name is Noyes).
This happened to be pure coincidence, but I couldn’t leave either out. We ran
past Devonshire and Noyes, turned right onto Deering Ave (my Dad went to
Deering High School), and a left onto Dartmouth. (Note: Google maps is great,
but the numbers of addresses are not always correct!) We had to go one extra
street in order to pass by 101 Dartmouth, and continued to Forest Ave in order
to reach my final destination of importance, University of Southern Maine,
which is where my Mom spent some of her college time. This little continuation
resulted in why the total distance ended up as 23.60 and not 23.36. We hit the
next side street that would lead us to USM, went through the parking lot, took
a flight of stairs in full stride, and crossed through the campus to Bedford Street.
Hitting the flight of stairs so quickly was a shock to my quads, and suddenly I
felt noticeable fatigue and tension in my muscles. It was bound to happen
eventually, but the stairs were a big trigger (we could have taken a ramp
instead, but stairs are too much fun to take at 7-flat pace).
Mile 16:
(6:59) At exactly the connection to Baxter Boulevard and the “beep” that
indicated Lap (Mile) 15 was complete – thanks to my Garmin 310XT auto-lap at
every mile. Nick wished me luck with the final third of my run as he continued
straight around the Boulevard to MRC – the end point for all my companions on
this run. As he moved along I yelled to remind him to text my Dad and update
him on the run’s progress: if you’ve been keeping up with my blog you will know
my Dad was in the hospital on my birthday, recovering and improving from his
short stint there. Nick said he would and we split, taking the Boulevard from
opposite sides. I was going to finish out the last 8.6 miles completely alone,
but was more than okay with that fact. I actually wanted to finish it out solo
this year, it felt more ‘right’ this time around. I must note that having Mike
and Tyle close out the last 5+ and 1.5 miles, respectively, was a great way to
end my 22 miles last year. But this year I had more confidence in the distance,
despite being only 7 weeks into being back to running after taking the fall off
and recovering from my clavicle. At mile 15.5 I took my first shot block (of
6), recalling that Owen found it very convenient and helpful to take one block
per mile when running. I knew my stomach could handle it with ease…and when
given such a luxury you do one thing, eat as damn often as you can because your
body will use it.
Mile 17:
(7:05) Surprised at how quickly I ran my first mile alone (which was on the
nasty, wet, loose clay that the cinder-like surface becomes when wet) I made an
effort to keep the reins in tight. I knew I would be able to close quickly if I
felt like I wanted to, but I was starting to feel a growing fatigue from the
previous 16 miles of brisk running. I had been going at a pace I had never held
for more than 14 miles, even when I was at Rochester doing XC. Now I was a
cyclist with a habit of liking running far too much to leave it anywhere in the
rearview mirror. I took my next block at 16.5, it quickly became something I
looked forward to (they just taste so darn good!).
Mile 18:
(7:01) I realized what had happened. My body had locked itself into a 7:00-7:05
pace regardless of trying to actively back off. While this doesn’t hold a
candle to Nick Roosa’s 2011 NYC Marathon I felt a percentage of what he did, in
which he wrote:
"Yet the strangest thing happened: In spite of my decision [to give up and stop running - around mile 20], my legs kept turning over, just as fast and just as painfully. I tried to quite but something somewhere far down beyond the layers of gratification, external senses, and rational thought, had taken control and wasn't going to let me stop it."
That, my friends, is running poetry. I
mentally made an effort to slow the pace, to regain increased comfort, and to
smoothly cruise home in what would still be under my optimal goal time. But
nothing happened, everything continued the same; the pace didn’t slow, the
fatigue didn’t increase or decrease, I just kept rolling along. Back across
Tukey’s bridge and there were less than 6 miles remaining.
Mile 19:
(7:01) Knowing the 5 mile mark from home, I recognized that the little add on
at USM was going to make the run a total of right about 23.6 miles. Without any
sort of calculation, I knew I would end up well under 2:50 for sure. The
headwind that is always coming at me
when I head North on RT 1 and RT 88 was becoming noticeable (or was it just
simply fatigue that made the wind have more of an effect?). Either way, I had
been grinding away at it since 15.5 and only began to notice it 3+ miles later.
Second to last shot block down. At this point I really could care less about
nutrition, but luckily I know well enough that if you keep putting in fuel your
body recognizes this fact and will not be nearly as inclined to shut down in
order to preserve its last reserves of glucose – creating the much feared
‘bonk’.
Mile 20:
(7:03) The water Coreen had left me that morning was still on the side of Route
1, right where I left it after my swig shortly into mile 5. I picked up the
bottle, but did not take the bar she had left me (I had 1 block left and 1 more
GU Roctane, which would be sufficient). Turning onto RT 88 is a slight uphill,
nothing bad by any means…but the damn thing always annoys me. This could be due
to the fact that I enjoy the final sprint of the PVC Tuesday Night Ride, where
I easily peak 40MPH on the sprint – taking every bit of benefit the hill
offers. This is where I first put in a real effort to keep the pace going; if I
could hold strong on the uphill then the long downhill would be effortless. I
had put in a little effort to battle the wind the past 1.5-2 miles, but that
mostly just started the steady increase of fatigue. Last block down after the
hill, and I relaxed in attempt to drink most of my water. The downhill
absolutely sucked, suddenly my quads were barking at me quite loud and I
finally felt why downhills can crush any runner of any ability in a Marathon.
The building fatigue had definitely been there the past few miles, but suddenly
the underlying tiredness was alive and hating every step downhill. Adjustment:
shorten stride, increase turnover (I am a miserably bad downhill
runner)…result: no noted decrease in soreness.
Mile 21: (7:02)
About .2 miles more downhill and then the hill that I figured would be the
worst of the entire run, the reverse of mile 3 – where Owen and I backed way
off in effort but still split a 7:03. I hit the uphill section and felt the
need to open up my stride after the uncomfortable descent. My legs were still
quite tired, but the painful soreness temporarily subsided as I surprised
myself in taking the hill in under 7:10 pace. Once I topped the hill and
settled back into pace, my heart rate was still recovering just a bit. I
decided I would wait for the 2 miles to go mark to take my last gel. I knew I
was basically home. 2.5 easy miles to go, I started to get a bit excited as I
realized I was averaging about 7:10 and still had extra energy inside. Sure, my
legs were pretty toast, but when you feel good on a long run there is only one
internal desire: “Let’s close this thing, it’s time to play.” I held off the temptation
for this last burst.
Mile 22:
(7:04) I forced the last gel in, chugged the remaining water, and deposited
them both in someone’s recycling bin. I might be 22 miles into a run, but I
won’t just be littering…can’t sacrifice a 2 minute penalty! (And there was NO
chance I would be coming back out to pick up my trash). At 21.6mi, I had
exactly 2 miles to go. The lap split, I checked the total time…Boom! 2:37:20. I
just ripped apart my 22 mile time by a whopping 12 minutes and 40 seconds!
Mile 23:
(6:53) Now it was time to enjoy myself, which I had honestly been doing for the
past few hours anyway…but for the real fun, closing strong and fast. I slowly
sped up over this mile, testing how my quads would respond. Quads: tight,
Hammys: tight, Calves: tight, IT Band: killer. Sounds about right since I
hadn’t been training to go nearly this fast. The dirt covering the shoulder did
not help much either and caused some minor traction issues that really pissed
off my stabilizer muscles and ITBs. Clicked off a 6:53, I thought to myself
“not bad but damn I can do a lot better than that!”
Mile 23.6: (3:45 – 6:12/mi pace) I started ramping it up, saw I was moving at 6:30,
then 6:15, then 6:10. At 23.35 (exactly 400m from home) I noted the time:
2:46:30. I closed the 22 miler in a 1:30 quarter last year and had every intention
to one-up myself. I closed the .25 in a crisp 1:25 (5:40 pace) and finished
with a total time of 2:47:55 (technically 7:06.9 pace – my watch displayed 7:06
pace at the finish, see below). I was pretty damn pumped to see that I managed
to hit such a good time for the distance and, had I continued, would have even
split 24 miles in under 2:50! Looks like I’m ready for 2013…well, technically I
won’t be doing a straight 24 mile run. Something a LOT more epic than just 24
miles is in the works. If you were on URXC, I expect you to know what I will be
attempting for my 24th birthday. If you weren’t, you’re in for a
most pleasant surprise!
 |
| Please Note Guin in the background :) |
My
thoughts of the 23 miler this year were first the concern of completion, having
not run at all this past fall and having broken my clavicle on November 15th.
The clavicle caused an initial setback and also a couple really bad pain
flare-ups that actually had me questioning if I would even be able to
physically run on my birthday (I would have walked the 23 miles if it came to
that). Once I put in the 19.5 mile run and didn’t have any subsequent pain, I
knew all was well…even my prospective goal of 2:50, which had been a massive
concern. However, I committed myself to running 2:50 for every year until I run
a sub-2:50 Marathon on my birthday. Seems easy enough, just be capable of
running 15-20 seconds per mile faster every year for one additional mile. Being
one year better in fitness and strength that really should – hypothetically –
be no problem whatsoever. Thus far it has worked out fine, but going out solo
for a 2:50 Marathon is going to be a big challenge; a challenge for which I
will not be unprepared.
I know
this report has become extremely long, but that’s what this year’s run has
meant to me. Being at home, the route has so much more significance. And with
my dad being in the hospital on that day, it has made me appreciate the health
and fitness I currently have even more than ever. I have never taken anything
for granted. And when it comes to athletics, I never had it easy (except maybe
the beginning of freestyle skiing, thanks to my recklessness and lack of belief
that I could actually get hurt in any way, shape, or form. Note: I never once
got injured from skiing. Not once. I don’t know how and it’s absolutely crazy).
I tried every event in indoor track with no pleasant result. Then I offered to
run the mile on a whim as a sophomore – back when I had “Krankles”. Krankles
was a clever combination of ‘Kroot’ and ‘Ankles’, created by my friend, Nic
Lolar. Krankles are similar to kankles, but unique to me. The seniors on the
team called me a fool for choosing to hop into the mile and claimed “I didn’t
know what I was getting myself into”. I didn’t really care to listen, and
somehow I really enjoyed the experience despite that horrible feeling when you
run distance all-out for the first time: oxygen debt, misery, cramping, etc. My
first hill workout ever, I locked up on the third (YES I did say #3) repeat of
10. It was ugly, my body rejected doing the work. Eventually, over a couple
years, I was able to tear up an 11x800m workout on grass averaging 2:45. I went
from stocky kid, to not-quite-so-stocky kid. My Krankles had slowly receded,
until Coach Mazzurco told me my ankles were actually ankles at long last! That
was actually a pretty big moment, when years of effort had finally paid off to
the point that my body was changing itself.
Now my
fitness puts to shame anything I had in high school (except my 800 to mile
speed). Also, I am leaner, more fit, and more capable than I ever have been. I
am ready to step it up to the next level (that one’s for you MRC crew) and look
back at the end of the year seeing a different athlete in my own past.
As always, I want to give a few big shout
outs:
First off,
to my Dad: He has shown me how amazing and powerful one’s soul can battle. On
multiple accounts he has been to hell and back and somehow gotten stronger with
everything that is thrown at him, good or bad. He has also shown me that it is
not always so simple as ‘fight fight fight’ like everyone wants to believe in
the blissful ignorance that is so engrained in our society. Like it or not:
This shit sucks and nothing is going to make it disappear. It might get better,
it might go away in time. But you know what? It might not. The only thing you
can do is rebound, bounce back better, fiercer, stronger than before. My Mom
said it best, and my brother quoted it when speaking at her funeral: “This
sucks…it sucks”. Sometimes that is as simple as it is; there are things that can
completely take every last bit of energy out of someone no matter how strong he
or she is. After the past couple weeks, my Dad just received an excellent report from Dana Farber
regarding the kidney issues that hospitalized him for 10 days and kept him in
the hospital through my birthday. I didn’t get to see my Dad on my birthday,
but he knew how much this tribute of a run meant to me and I told him I would
say hi to Mom for him. As far from him as I was, there was a great closeness
that I felt.
To Owen Lisa for talking some sense into
me when I had any sort of doubt in being able to complete the run, whether it
was hitting my time goal or making the distance without destroying myself. On a
few of the runs we had together, I expressed concern that I may have to ditch
the 2:50 time goal because things were just not coming together. At one point
he looked me dead in the eyes and said sternly, “you’re doing that 23 in 2:50,
there is no alternative”. He snapped me out of my (very very rare)
self-inflicted funk of doubt. That is exactly
something I would tell myself, something I have told myself in hundreds of
circumstances: only one option exists, and that is succeeding. Thanks for
giving me a dose of reality.
Also, to Nick Ramharter, who gave me some great
company in the middle miles of a long run that can seem to drag on forever.
Nick has also dealt with some tough family health issues of late with his wife,
but just a couple months later all is well and she is doing great! For miles
8-15, I dedicate a part to her continued health and to all that her family had
to go through as it was completely worth it, thanks to her quick and full
recovery. I was shocked to see we were coming up on 15 miles when it was about
time for him to finish up and head back to the store. Nick is very experienced,
both athletically and in life. And for that, his wisdom on both levels was a
pleasure to hear about. If I have any bit the talent and commitment to training
that he does when I am his age, I will consider that a big accomplishment.
I want to
give a big shout out to my big bro, Jason.
From having no athletic interest since high school soccer aside from his love
of skiing, he began running this past spring and made some amazing progress –
both physically and emotionally. He was far out of shape, when he was a solid
180 5’11” in high school. After hitting a lifetime high in weight he rebounded
with intent to get it back together. His goal ended up being to run the Maine
Half Marathon last fall. I thank him for putting a whole lot of trust in me for
coaching him from running a few miles here and there, to doing the half. He
absolutely hates running in the
rain, and race day was as nasty and cold and wet as the fall gets. He sucked it
up and worked his ass off to a 1:45:05 – 8:02/mi pace. When he and I ran a 13.1
long run earlier this summer it was 1:55 – 8:46/mi. He took off 10+ minutes
(nearly 40 seconds per mile) in a few months’ time for just a half marathon.
Also, he entered into the Boston Marathon with the Dana Farber Leukemia and
Lymphoma Team, in support of our Dad.
Clearly, it is only logical who is next: my sister, LEXXXIIIIIII!, also known as "Alexis" (that's typically how I will address her, whether it be vocally or by message). First off, I miss you like hell but I know you're having a blast so I won't hate you for it. I want to note that (as I said in my last post) that my sister is currently abroad for a co-op in Lebanon, while all of the recent stuff has been going on with our Dad. She's a fighter and stuck it out so well and an inspiration to us all. I meessseeee you!
Penultimately,
thanks to everyone for putting up with the massive delay of my run report and
for all the prayers, wishes, and support you have given my Father and our
family during the past couple weeks while my Dad was in the hospital in Boston.
Once again, he has bounced back – feeling and looking better than ever.
And,
lastly, a friend of one of my Dad’s close friends – a 69 year old man named
Wally – is going in for a bone marrow transplant next week. Initially he had
his doubts, but after much deliberation and many concerns being addressed he
has decided that the best course of action is to go ahead with the bone marrow
transplant. I had the pleasure of meeting Wally and his wife today when my Dad
and I stopped by his room at Brigham and Women’s hospital this evening after my
Dad’s appointments. So, if you would, send a positive thought Wally’s way,
whether you believe in the potential benefit or not…because it can only help,
and it feels good too.
Thanks to
everyone in my life for making the past, very tumultuous year as good as it was
and for sticking with the Kroots through yet another crisis. If it weren’t for
all the great people we have in our lives, it wouldn’t have been so easy for my
Dad (and all of us) to keep so positive through everything we have gone through
and is undoubtedly in part responsible for why my Dad is still with us, because
there is too much kindness and love and support to leave behind.
This was
the poster my brother hung up in my Dad’s hospital room on Day 0 of his bone
marrow transplant:
