“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

Yes, I realize this saying is related to weddings and it’s typically reserved for the bride, but it seems appropriate for my race report for the Toronto Marathon, so I’m stealing it.

Something Old

That would be me.  I am now officially an old man who cringes at the sounds of a party.  In the hotel room next to me.  The night before a marathon.

Becuase my kids had a full day of baseball games and tournaments on their schedule for Saturday, and because my parents were also in town visiting, I didn’t want to leave Cincinnati until Saturday evening.  My flight got me into Toronto at about 8:30 PM and to the hotel by about 9:30 PM.  As I made my way down the hallway to my room, I could hear loud music and a bunch of people obviously in full party mode.  There were plenty of, “Dude!  That’s so cool!” to be heard.  It reminded me of dorm parties in college.  So I called down to get my room moved, which they did without any fuss at all. After getting situated, I got to bed by about 11:00 PM.  Not too bad.  Now, I typically don’t sleep well the night before any race, so I didn’t expect a full 6 hours, but I also didn’t expect to hear from Dude and the Dudettes again either.  But, Dudes ‘R Us and crew decided that the hotel couldn’t possibly contain their “epic blowout” (that’s an actual quote), so they noisily made their way to the elevator.  And back.  Twice.  2:00 AM and 4:00 AM.

Dude.  Not righteous.  I felt like the old man at the end of every Scooby Doo cartoon.  ”And I would have made it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids…”

Something New

I went down to the start area early on Sunday morning.  This was a well organized set of races, and the way they set things up was great.  The half marathoners started at 8:00 AM, the marathon started at 9:00 AM, marathon relay runners went off at 9:20 AM and the 5K start was at 10:00 AM.  That made for almost no congestion at the beginning of the race.  No time spent zig-zagging in and out in order to keep any kind of pace at all.  Loved it.  They also had an indoor area where runners could wait before the start, which helped me a ton.  Since I couldn’t make it to Toronto until late the evening before, I had completely missed the expo, which meant I had to pick up my bib Sunday morning before the race start.  It was pretty cold Sunday morning, in the mid-40s, and it was raining off and on, so being able to relax inside for the hour and a half I had until the gun went off was very welcome indeed.

Another “new”.  The race started promptly at 9:00 AM in a light drizzle and temps somewhere in the 40s.  I had made the call that morning to wear a long sleeve running shirt instead of the short sleeve one I had thought I would be wearing.  Later on, I’d be very glad I did.  I settled in early and found my pace pretty easily, right at about 8:30 min/mile.  There were a few nice downhills and one decent uphill pretty early on, but even with those, I managed to keep my pace pretty steady.  As I was running along, I realized something the “something new” that should have been incredibly obvious:  I wasn’t in the U.S.  More specifically, the markers along the course were all in kilometers, not miles.  Didn’t seem like much of a big deal, I’d just keep watching my Garmin to keep on pace.  Until I couldn’t.

Something Borrowed

Just after the halfway point, the course takes the runners under a large, relatively long underpass.  This was borrowed from the Chicago Marathon, I’m certain, because how else could I keep up this ridiculous analogy?  In Chicago, that underpass is right after the start, and it threw me for a loop then too.  That same kind of satellite-blocking underpass in Toronto was far later in the race, but it had the same result for me:  mild panic.  When I glanced at my watch for the next couple of miles, it was reporting really odd paces.  Like 13:00 minute miles although I hadn’t slowed a bit.  The great part was that we got to go through it again at about mile 24 and mess me up one last time before the end.  I need to investigate this more so that I don’t get mentally thrown by this in the future.  That, and I need to begin wearing a pace bracelet so I only really need to know my elapsed time.  Lesson learned.

One other borrowed item; a quote.  All week long prior to the race, the weather report kept getting worse and worse.  Last Monday, the race day forecast was mid 50s and overcast with a slight chance of rain.  As the week progressed, it deteriorated to what it actually ended up being on race day:  high 40s/low 50s, steady-ish rain with wind gusts from the north at 20-30 mph.  After seeing that, a friend of mine sent me a quote from Bill Bowerman, the famed University of Oregon track coach:  ”There is no such thing as bad weather, just soft people.”  I kept repeating that to myself after making the turn back towards the finish.  This out and back portion of the course is a tough, long slog under good circumstances, but it was even harder on Sunday.  The turn for the change from “out” to “back” is made in the middle of mile 19, and honestly, I was hurting by then.  As I made the turn, we found three wonderful things greeting us:  steadier rain, a long slow uphill, and the hard wind in our faces.  I wished I had borrowed Bowerman’s steely resolve because my pace really deteriorated during this stretch.

Something Blue

Once again, the something blue was me.  More on that in a moment.

As I fought hard through the last portion of the race, I found myself having to stop to walk every now and again because I found myself cramping pretty badly.  Just my hamstrings at first, then lots of other leg muscles later.  While I had been alternating Gatorade and water at the stops in the second half of the race, I still don’t think I did a good job with my electrolytes.   I had absolutely no issues at all with dizziness and my heart, which was a huge relief, not only to me, but to my family and friends as well.  But, I think if I would have done a better job managing that, I could have finished the race a bit stronger.  Another lesson learned.

When I finally made my way into Queen’s Park for the finish line, I was just physically wrecked.  I know you’re supposed to be, but since this was my first marathon where I ran the whole way, I hadn’t really experienced the physical toll before.  I couldn’t get myself to run, even though I had just a quarter of a mile or so to go.  I tried repeatedly, but I had nothing in the tank.  One of the race volunteers wearing a red vest saw me struggling and came up to me to help.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Hurting,” was all I could muster.

“Sick or just tired?”

“Not sick,”  I said.

“OK, so let’s try something.  No running yet, but let’s just see if you can bounce a bit.”  And so I bounced.  ”Let’s turn that into a shuffle. Just a shuffle.”  And I started to shuffle.  ”Doing great.  Can you make it a jog?”  So I jogged.  ”Don’t look now, but you’re about to enter the chute.  50 meters to go.”

I looked at the finish line, looked her in the eye and said, “Thank you,” as I took off to finish my vindication marathon running.

Whomever you are, thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  Amazing what a positive impact a complete stranger can have.

After crossing the finish line, I kind of stumbled my way through getting my medal, a mylar blanket, a carton of chocolate milk and a bagel.  I asked a volunteer to point out where the shuttle buses back to the hotel were.  My flight back home was at 4:30 and by then it was a little after 1:00, so I knew I couldn’t waste much time.  I made my way to the buses and  started to shiver a bit since the wind was still up and I was soaked, head to toe. I, along with about 6 other marathoners gingerly climbed the stairs of the bus, then ever-so-slowly sat down in our seats.  After sitting and enjoying the heated bus for about 5 minutes, the driver announced that the bus taking us to the Marriott had just pulled up.  ”We need to get off this bus?”  ”You sure do.”  And in unison, 7 rain-soaked, exhausted, freezing runners, said, “F*#k.”  Pretty comical moment.

We slowly moved from one bus to the other, and in another minute, we were pulling away to head to the hotel.  After what only seemed like three blocks, our driver said, “OK, you’ll hop off here, then go down this block, make a left, and the Marriott is 2 blocks up.”  ”You mean we have to get out and walk?” asked the Grumpy 7.  ”You sure do.”  And we all sang the same refrain again.

By the time I walked to the hotel and was waiting for the elevator, I was shaking uncontrollably I was so cold and tired.  A group of people who were walking toward the same bank of elevators stopped talking all at once to say, “You look kind of blue.  And cold.”

A warm shower has never felt so good.  And I did make it to the airport on time, made the flight, and was able to get back to my family in time to exchange marathon stories for baseball stories.

This marathon truly was a vindication for me.  After having to walk/run the entire second half of the Chicago Marathon last fall due to a knee injury, then blacking out after the 16th mile at the Flying Pig two weeks ago, this one was my first, solid, no injury, no issues marathon.  I went into it not necessarily caring what time I ran, just wanting to complete it running and anything else was gravy.

I learned a lot of lessons out there on Sunday.  I learned that I’m not quite as far along as a runner as I thought I was.  That’s not me beating myself up, it’s just me looking at the facts, and I am completely OK with that.  Now I know what I need to improve if I want better times.  I also learned that I need to rely a lot less on my Garmin to help me keep pace.  Sometimes simple really is better.

And finally, I learned that when you set a goal for yourself, and you let nothing stop you from getting to it, not even fear, you can remind yourself, your kids, your wife and your family, that anything can be achieved.

When I started this marathon training cycle, I had set my goals to be:  A) 4 hour marathon, B) 3:50:00 as a stretch, and C) 3:45:00 if everything went absolutely perfect.  Well, I attained my A goal by running a 4:00:40 marathon, and I’m damn proud of it.

1. I received good news from the cardiologist.  The thickening of the walls of my heart are nowhere near what you’d see in a disease state, like you might see in hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.   He told me it’s simply something I need to be aware of, and to take extra steps to make sure I hydrate properly.  That’s something that’s in my control to do.  When I asked him if I could keep running, he said, “Absolutely.  Just hydrate better.”  ”Running marathons?”  ”Yes, knock yourself out.”  Having a cardiologist with a sense of humour is of dubious comfort.
2. I want to.  I admit it.  I put in a lot of hard work over the last 4½ months to prepare, so I’d like to see this through until the end.  In my way of thinking, what happened last Sunday was a stumble, and I want to move on.
3. The most important reason to do this, however, is not for me.  It’s for my family.  I cannot allow the lasting memory they have of me in a marathon to be me face down on the side of the road.  It makes my kids afraid and it makes my wife worry.  My sisters and parents too.  Since the Pig, every time I’ve left the house and said, “I’m going for a run,” I could see the worry in their eyes.  I want it to go back to two weeks ago when there was pride in their eyes when I was heading out for my run.  I know that’s too much to ask so soon, but I believe that this will go a long way toward helping their healing begin.  And I want my boys to learn a hard life lesson:  you don’t fold your hand every time you’re faced with adversity.  Get up, get back out there and fight.

Where’s the Damn Van was the name we chose for a team of 12 runners running in the Ragnar Del Sol 2011 Relay. It’s a race that covers roughly 200 miles through the desert in the Phonenix, Arizona area. Most teams were made up of 12 runners who run approximately 15-17 miles each, but there were a few “ultra” teams as well. Ultra teams only have six runners so each person runs somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 miles over a 24 hour period. To quote Robert DeNiro in Midnight Run, “That’s a very respectable neighborhood.”

Here I am, glowing in the middle of the night

To give you some idea of what the race was like, let’s head back to college. Remember back in the day, when you and your college buddies would go on a road trip? Remember how the destination became an afterthought compared to the trip getting there? That’s what Ragnar was like for me. My runs were great. But getting to know the 11 other runners, and crazy fun we had while cooped up in a van for 30 hours with no sleep is what made the whole thing incredible.

Don’t get me wrong, the running was off the charts too. Steve Speirs‘ third and final leg was a 7.7 mile jaunt, nearly straight down. An 849 foot drop over 7+ miles is insane, but he just crushed it, sleep deprived and all. He even paced another runner who was hurting and still turned in a 6:01 pace. Nuts. Jenny J‘s last leg was the opposite: a 600 foot climb over almost 9 miles. All on beat up legs, spotty van nutrition and no sleep, but she just put her head down and ran and ran. Joe Marrachulla started the whole thing off on leg #1 by destroying a run that included a 500 foot climb over about 4 miles. And that was just short of a week after running a marathon. Nina A had a tough run in the dark where the signs directing runners weren’t very clear, so she got a bit off course. But you should have seen her giving it everything she had to make up time by nearly sprinting the final portion of her leg. There is no quit in Nina. This isn’t an exhaustive list of the hard runs, but it does give you a glimpse into the kind of performances our team gave.

I have admit it. Going into the weekend, I was pretty nervous. I really believed I was going to be the weak link in the team, the slowest of the runners. And you know what, I still might have been, I’m not sure. But, I did manage to run all three of my runs in paces below 8:00 min/mile. My leg average paces were:

• Leg #6: 7:40 min/mile
• Leg #18: 7:36 min/mile
• Leg #30: 7:43 min/mile

To put my times into perspective, I’ve never even had one training run at better than an 8:00 min/mile average, yet in this race, I did it three times in a row. So, even if I was the slowest on our team, I think I did myself proud by not dragging the team down with really slow times.

There was one disappointment this weekend. Once the race starts, the team divides itself into two sub-teams. Each 6 person sub-team stays together for the whole race in their own van. Makes sense, and it even gives each group of runners a window of time to try to rest and relax. What didn’t dawn on me, was that it would only leave brief little periods of time, at major exchanges, where each “van” would get to see the other van of runners. So there were six team members that I barely got a chance to know, and in the short conversations we did get to have, I knew I would have liked to have gotten to know all of them.

The upside of the van arrangement is that you really get a big chance to get to know the runners in your van. And I can say this without reservation or embarrassment: I loved getting to know each of them. I truly feel like I’ve made friends that I’ll keep for a lifetime. There were inside jokes, funny stories, brief flashes of nudity (hence the PG13 rating), rotten doggie bag food smells, generous hosts allowing us to rest and have meals at their home, gnomes, tough runs, the stink of 6 sweaty runners, cursing of bad maps, cursing/loving Katy Perry, random texting to people sitting 3 feet from you, multiple U-turns, loud cheering, cowbell ringing, absolute amazement, spectacular sunsets, gorgeous sunrises, shared pictures of each others’ kids, war stories of races gone by, salves, gels, aches, pains, running advice given, running advice taken, personal lives discussed, hopes shared … and the list goes on and on. A weekend I will never forget.

Here are all of my team members. All of the photos seen on this page where taken by Michael Miller, who not only runs like a deer, but takes excellent photos too.

Andy M.

Carol T

Dan C.

Eddie R.

Jenny J.

Joe M.

Kimberly M.

Michael M.

Nina A.

Steve S.

Thomas N.

UPDATE: This evening we found out that we finished 19th 20th out of 306 teams. Pretty damn good performance from the Damn Van!

Writing a running blog and having just a few days left in 2010, I’m pretty sure I’m required to write a year-end recap.  I’d like to keep my membership standing in the Writers Writing For An Audience of One Guild (or the WWFAAOOG), so here we go.

2010 was filled with a dizzying array of ups and downs, first time accomplishments, complete failures, and more than anything else: learning.  I learned a ton about myself as a runner, a father, a husband and a friend, and I can attribute a lot of that learning to my dedication to running.

The year started out high hopes and lots of goals.  I had just begun to run in September of 2009 and before that year was done, I had managed to go from sitting on the couch (both literally and figuratively) to running my first 5K, a second 5K and a 10K.  I was hooked, and I was loving every minute of it.  OK, not every minute of it.  December is cold.

By the end of 2009, I had decided to set two running goals for 2010:  complete a half marathon, and if that went well, train for a full marathon.  One of the nice things about the earliest parts of running is that you can set new personal records left and right since there’s no long history to compare.  Run 5 miles today?  New distance PR!

As January bled over into February, I began to ramp up mileage as I prepared for the Flying Pig Half Marathon.  During that same period of time, I learned about YakTrax, how much I hate running on a treadmill, and the need for nutrition during longer runs.  All new things to me.  By February, I had also put together a plan for the year, or at least for the major races.

As February gave way to March, I also got to have my first run in a different country:  the Bahamas.  This was a make-up trip for the one we had to cancel in November of 2009 when my older son got the dreaded H1N1 flu the night before the trip was to start.

This also started a period of time that was personally very difficult.  My father-in-law’s health had begun to decline pretty rapidly and there was a lot of worry about what was going on.  It was very tough for my wife to get good information about what the doctors were saying from 2000 miles away.  As the month came to a close, my wife was in Florida to be with her dad, who passed away on March 28th.  I’m not sure I’ll ever feel good about not making it to be by her side in time.

April was spent learning what the longer runs would feel like, and I even threw in a half marathon distance run to see where I really stood.  I also faced my very first taper leading up to the Flying Pig Half.  I think I can confidently say that I’m not a fan of the taper.  I’m surprised I wasn’t kicked out of my house.

On May 3rd, I ran my very first half marathon.  I completed the race in 1:56:14 which was just over a minute longer than I wanted it to be.  I learned some great lessons on that first big race about pacing, running through pain, the effects weather can have on performance, and, yes, about pride.  This would be the first big race where my sons and wife got to watch me run.  They, too, braved the rainy Sunday to cheer me on and it made a huge difference to me.  Reuniting with them after the race was one of my favorite moments of the year.  Seeing the pride my boys had for what I had worked hard to accomplish was priceless.

Having put together a respectable run at the Flying Pig, I turned my attention to marathon training through the summer.  The summer months went by in a blur of heat, humidity and baseball!  Both of my boys play baseball so we spent the majority of our time going to and from baseball fields all over the Cincinnati area.  My running continued to progress although I had to learn some hard lessons about running in the heat.  I also took some time to work on my form and even went to a sports nutritionist to find out just how badly I was doing fueling my body.

August brought two bright points to what was otherwise a long, hot slog through the summer:  deciding to run the Chicago Marathon for the charity Run For Dom, and my second half marathon, the Spirit of Columbus Half.

September started with my one year of running anniversary and the two 20 mile training runs that preceded the marathon.  I left the month feeling confident that the goals I had set for the marathon were within reach and that my training was right where it needed to be.

October turned out to be an extraordinary month.  It started with the Chicago Marathon on the 10th.  While I did complete the marathon, my performance was hampered by a knee injury that occurred a little past the halfway point.  Having never dealt with any type of training injury, I was thrown pretty hard by this.  I managed to gather myself and push through the final half, but I needed to alternate walking and running to get it done.  The highlight of the year for me was finding my family in the runner reunite area and being tackle-hugged by my boys and my wife.  My sisters, mother and father also surprised me by traveling to Chicago to cheer me on.  While I admit that my first reaction to my race performance was bitter disappointment, it didn’t take long for me to see just how much I gained from the experience and just how much I and my family learned from the road it took to get there.

Having to stop running for 6 weeks to let my knee heal seemed like a prison sentence when the doctor gave me the news.  But I took the opportunity to work on two areas I hadn’t spent any time on before:  cross training and strength training.  The rest of October and the entirety of November were spent improving those areas and staying away from any impact on my knee.  As I’ve been able to get back to running everyday in December, I can already see some positive results.  I’ve never felt better or stronger as a runner.

December 27th was the first day of marathon training for the Flying Pig on May 1, 2011 and I’m feeling good about being back on a plan.  It looks like I’ll finish 2010 having run 1362 miles.

The knee injury that smacked me across the face in the middle of the marathon continues to improve.  I’ve had two runs so far, both of them very easy, short intervals.  Very much like what I was doing when I started this journey last year.  The great news is that I’ve had no knee pain so far on these little runs.

Because I knew I wouldn’t be running consistently for a while, I decided to try to do two things to improve my running long term.

1. Get better about cross training.
2. Improve my overall strength.

Cross training has been much more of a mental battle than anything else.  First of all, I’ll admit that I am a bit of a running snob.  I’m really not interested in doing any of the other activities particularly well, so I thought that I really didn’t need them.  The hard lesson of being temporarily away from running has opened my eyes to the fact that cycling or using the elliptical will actually improve my running.  First of all, they both allow you to maintain your fitness level without giving your knees, shins, ankles and feet a pounding like running does.  Secondly, I’ve found that there are leg muscles that get far more engaged when doing those activities than they do during running.  A consultant might call that a win-win.  I might punch him in the face for being consultant-y, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d be right!

As I got toward the end of marathon training and was running the long (15+ mile) runs, I began to notice that it usually wasn’t my legs that gave out first, but my form, particularly from the waist up.  So, having forced time away from logging miles gave me the perfect opportunity to begin work on strength training.  Admitting that I didn’t know the best way to do this was the first step, and then recognizing that, like running, this will take time before I see improvement was a necessary second step.  So, I’ve been working with a strength trainer for a couple of weeks, and I have to admit I’ve loved it.  I really feel like I’m getting my ass kicked every time I go, but it remains the “good” kind of pain.  He’s also a marathon runner (yes, I can now say also) along with being a certified strength trainer, so the plan he’s put together is specific to what I want to accomplish.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my boys about how it’s important to get over the fear of being embarrassed by being a beginner at something, because everyone starts somewhere.  As usual, that’s an easy thing to say but harder to live by.  On day #1 of strength training, the trainer said, “Get down and give me as many pushups as you can.”  Eight.  Eight pushups was all I could do, and calling that eighth one a pushup was a gift.  I was mortified, then quickly laughed at myself, as I was there on the training mat living exactly what I had been preaching.

My current plan is to continue to easy back into running through the end of November and hope that by then, I feel confident that I can go back to a more regular regimen.  And yes, I’ve already been “caught” by my wife looking for spring marathons.

“You pretended the snooze button didn’t exist. You dragged your butt out of bed while others slept. While others ate their pancakes you had a feast of protein, glucose and electrolytes. You double-knotted. You left the porch light on and locked the door behind you.

You ran 5Ks, 10Ks, 26.2 miles. Some days more, some days less. You rewarded a long run with a short run. And a short run with a long run. Rain tried to slow you. Sun tried to microwave you. Snow made you feel like a warrior.

You cramped. You bonked. You paid no mind to comfort. On weekends. On holidays. You made excuses to keep going. Questioned yourself. Played mind games. Put your heart before your knees. Listened to your breathing. Sweat sunscreen into your eyes. Worked on your farmer’s tan.

You hit the wall. You went through it. You decided to be man about it. You decided to be woman about it. Finished what you started. Proved what you were made of. Just kept putting mile after mile on your interval odometer. For 25 years, you ran. And we ran with you. How much farther will we go? As far as you will.”   -Nike

When I was back in college, I was putting together my “book” — a collection of my writing samples to use to get a job in advertising — and I needed to write a couple of spec ads.  Spec ads are used by young people trying to break into advertising since you don’t yet have a real book filled with actually produced ads.  To create one of my spec ads I modeled it after a great Nike running ad of that time:

“There are clubs you can’t belong to, neighborhoods you can’t live in, schools you can’t get into, but the roads are always open.  Just do it.”

Here’s what I said one year ago about why I began running again.

Lately I’ve gotten so completely disgusted with myself, my laziness, but most importantly, the example I am setting for my family that I have (re)committed to running.

I ended that post with a promise. “This time, it’s for real. I promise.”

I then went out and start the Couch to 5K running program to help get me started. One of the big differences between previous attempts to start running and this one is that I consciously decided to take it slow and easy, and C25K really helped with that. The first day of C25K has you alternating between 60 seconds of running and 90 seconds of walking. Here’s me after that first day:

And there I was wheezing my way around, wondering how 60 seconds could feel so damn long. Sixty seconds. Seconds.

That whole first week of running felt like hell, and I was only doing one minute at a time. Today, one year later, for the first time ever, I ran 20 miles and it took me about 3 hours to do it. Day one, one minute. Today, 182 minutes.

I’ve admitted it before, and I will again now. When I started, I was driven by many self-centered factors: I felt lazy, I felt (and was) grossly overweight. And honestly, I had been both for the better part of a decade. While those first days were mostly about my appearance, there was one other big factor: the example I was setting for my wife and my two young boys.

As for the physical changes, they’ve been pretty drastic.  When I started, I weighed 218 pounds, which put me in the obese category according to BMI (I’m 6’0″).  And while I never had my body composition measured, I can’t imagine that my fat percentage was any less than 30%.  My resting heart rate was somewhere in the 80s and I was just generally unhealthy, getting pretty much every cold or sniffle my kids brought home from school.  Today, I weigh 171 lbs., my resting heart rate is on the low 50s, and I had my body composition measured at the beginning of July and found that my fat percentage is just 7%.  In the past year, I haven’t been sick at all, even with H1N1 having made its presence known in my family.

I’m proud of the changes I’ve made in my body.  But what really makes me feel great is how proud my wife and boys are.  Just this afternoon, my younger boy said, “Dad I’m so proud of you for your 20 mile run.”  That alone felt like gold, but  I asked him why he was proud and he said, unprompted, “You’ve been running for a whole year to be able run 20 miles!”  I am not ashamed to tell you that I cried a bit when I heard that.  For an eight year old to recognize that hard work has to be consistently practiced over a long time to get to goals is priceless.  No amount of saying those words to him would have done it, but actually going out day after day regardless of how I was feeling allowed him to grasp a lesson that will serve him for his entire life.  I feel like I earned a Dad badge today.

A few stats to wrap things up.

• 1237 total miles run.
• Longest run to date.: 20 miles, 3:02:30
• Mason Mini 5K: 11/8/09, 5K, 30:22
• St. Ursaline Run for the Lions: 11/15/09, 5K, 29:34
• Thanksgiving Day Race: 11/26/09, 10K, 1:04:24
• Flying Pig Half Marathon: 5/2/10, 13.1 miles, 1:56:14
• Spirit of Columbus Half Marathon: 8/29/10, 13.1 miles, 1:51:48

I still have about a month to go to reach the goal I’ve been thinking about since I was in high school:  to run a marathon.  On October 10, 2010 I’ll be running the Chicago Marathon.

As I got into running more and more, and started to participate in the running community, I also noticed that there where many regular people out there who were runners that I could look up to and gain inspiration from. While I figured that more experienced runners would be able to give me tips and advice on my running, what I didn’t know is that I would find people whose lives were true examples of the very characteristics I want to teach my boys: hard working, giving, positive, loyal, and there for you when needed most. One of those people is Joe Marruchella.

I first “met” Joe on DailyMile, a social site for runners and other endurance athletes. What I first noticed about Joe was how incredibly positive he is and how much he gave of himself. I’d see him giving encouragement, pats on the back and sometimes, a kick in the butt to other runners on DailyMile. Always in a positive way. Always with a you can do this attitude. And he had the credibility as an accomplished runner to deserve the numerous “followers” he had. On one particular day early this year, I was reading an entry he made on DailyMile where he talked about Running For Dom, got curious, and clicked through to his blog to see what it was all about. This is where things changed for me.

Joe’s lifelong friend, Dom D’Eramo, had been diagnosed with cancer in the spring of 2009, just a few months after the birth of his second child, a daughter. Joe, a self-described “regular guy,” decided to take on an extraordinary task as a means to raise money to help his friend fight this disease. Joe would run two marathons in the span of just thirteen days in the spring of this year. No, he didn’t choose the easiest marathons, he chose two of the most challenging: the Boston Marathon and the Pittsburgh Marathon. As I read about his incredible journey to help his friend Dom fight for his life, I knew I wanted to help.

I decided to reach out to Joe just say that I admired what he was doing for his friend and wished him good luck on his runs. It was from these brief exchanges that a friendship was born. Joe finished those two marathons for his friend, and in the process raised $26,200 to help with the mountain of medical bills the D’Eramos faced. Not that this alone was not enough, but if you really want to get a glimpse into the kind of human being Joe is, please read his race recap of that second marathon. This man, physically and emotionally spent, decided he’d just keep on giving, and helped other hurting runners make it to their finish line. Waiting for him at the finish of the Pittsburgh Marathon was Dom. As it should be.

Joe and Dom

You just can’t sit back and read about someone giving his all like this, you have to reach out and say, “What can I do to help?” And so that’s what I did. I helped Joe reach his fundraising goal, which helped the D’Eramos cope with medical expenses.

Dominic D’Eramo fought and fought and fought. But cancer took him last Sunday, August 15, 2010. He left behind a wife and two young children.

When Joe returned from the funeral services, instead of simply wallowing in sadness, he immediately started thinking of how he could continue to honor Dom’s memory, but more importantly, how he could make sure Dom’s children were taken care of in the way Dom himself would have wanted. Since then, Joe has been helping the family setup and begin to fund 529 College Savings Accounts for the two D’Eramo children.

And so, I am doing what I can to help raise money to help fund these accounts. I’ve decide to run the Chicago Marathon for Dom.

I’d really love your help in raising money. If you can spare any amount, please go over to a site I’ve set up and pledge what you can for my run. If you pledge $1 per mile and I complete the marathon, I’ll ask for a $26.20 donation. If you can pledge $10 per mile, your donation would end up being $262.00.

http://runfordom.why-i-run.com

This Sunday will bring a new milestone for me:  a personal record for distance.  My training plan calls for 14 miles and to date, the longest I’ve ever run is the 13.1 in May’s Flying Pig Half Marathon.  And it only goes up from there.  I’m looking forward to pushing myself further and further, but at the same time, I’m nervous about failing.

I have always been terrible about asking for help when I needed it.  I believe that stubbornness has an upside: self-reliance.  However, I’ve also noticed that I run better and more confidently when I’m with others.  So I think I’m going to have to reach out to running friends to see if anyone is crazy enough to run with me for some portion of these hot Sunday long runs.

With just a few days’ time to reflect, I can tell you that I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the outpouring of support my family has received during this time.  My mother flew to Cincinnati without a moments’ hesitation to take care of my boys while I supported my wife.  My younger boy’s baseball team all got together to sign a card for him to let him know he’s loved.  Team moms gave rides to practices and neighbors helped with bus stops.  Since we flew home the day of the funeral, my family has not had to eat a single meal of our own cooking as neighbors and friends continue to simply show up with prepared meals.  My sisters have sent flowers, my aunts have sent Facebook messages, my dad drove cross-state to attend the funeral, co-workers have covered meetings, and my email inbox has more “keeping you in our thoughts and prayers” messages than anything else. While it has been incredibly hard to have lost someone so special, it has also been an amazing reminder of just how much we are loved.

And since this is a running blog, I’d be remiss if I did not also thank the many runners out there, many of whom I’ve never met in person, who have sent me incredibly kind, personal notes of support and encouragement.  I’ve mentioned DailyMile many times in this blog and how much support the people on it have lent me as I continue to progress in running.  But until recently, that support had always been of the running kind and typically public: “Don’t skip your recovery runs,” or, “Keep up the cross-training as it will help you become a better runner.”  But over the past month, the great running advice has also been coupled with numerous, personal, direct  messages of support for my family.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  Every running event I’ve ever raced or attended has been filled with people encouraging one another.  Since “joining” it, I’ve come to believe the running community is supportive at its core.  But I also now believe that the people that connect on DailyMile go above and beyond and actually care about one another.

I hope that when the time comes, I can be there to support the people I care about when they need it most.  Until then, I’d just like to say, “Thank you.”  From the bottom of my heart, “Thank you.”