Art La Flamme

I suppose I’ve always been known for having some crazy ideas. This, though, is probably pretty high up on the list of craziest things I’ve done.

Over 30 calendar days, I just ran 300 miles. I didn’t run 300 miles in 30 days — I actually did it in just 26 days. But we’ll get to that.

I’m not really sure where this idea came from. Last month, I was in Baghdad for a 10 day visit, and while there I ran about 66 miles on 5 runs. That seemed like a lot of running to me — my shortest run was 10 miles, but my longest was 18. I had been able to get off of the airplane, after flying half way around the world, and I’d needed only a short stop at the chow hall before I’d knocked out a 10 mile run. In Baghdad, in the summer.

When I got back, I was feeling strong. I was feeling fit. I was realizing that I was a stronger runner than I thought.

Which, by the way, is a very odd realization to make.

When I got back to the office, after the 4th of July weekend, I was talking with one of my sections about the trip and the holiday weekend. 5 runs in Baghdad, for 66 miles. And the long 4 day weekend? I’d done three runs for a hair over 40 miles. I bet, I said, I could sustain 10 miles per day.

Now, I won’t tell you exactly what they said — Soldiers can sometimes use, um, colorful language — but suffice it to say, this section (hereafter referred to as The Zombies) disagreed. Nope, you can’t do it, they said.

Fine, I said. I’ll prove you wrong. In fact, I bet I can do it for a month.

Oh, wait — better still. I’ll race you to 300 miles. I’ll do it in 30 days, and I bet you I can do the 300 miles faster than you can.

Did I mention that The Zombies number about 15? Yeah — big section of Soldiers. Me, vs. more than a dozen Soldiers, running to see if:

1. I could average 10 miles per day for 30 days;
2. I could run 300 miles in 30 days;
3. I could run 300 miles before all of them, combined.

300 miles. Sparta!

Yeah. Not really sure what I was thinking. On the surface, that seems like an insanely dumb challenge to issue. I hope it’s no surprise that they agreed. They eagerly agreed. Of course, I had also run 10+ miles that morning, meaning that in the first 5 days of July, I’d run 50+ miles. One Zombie had run about 10 miles over the weekend (their so-called ringer).

I was winning.

So, how does one run 300 miles over 30 days? Well, carefully and with a lot of planning. I’m quite sure my wife thought I’d gone mad when i told her I was doing this. Not that I was trying, but that I was going to actually do it. I run at a pace that is often between 9 and 10 minutes per mile — that’s 100 minutes of running per day. Do you have an extra 100 minutes every day for running, and extra time for a very good shower and a change of clothes? I didn’t. Certainly not every day.

I had to make it in the morning. On weekdays, my units meets at 0630 for accountability. Most days, we then exercise for an hour, but I often do not have to be in the office until 0900. Done right, I could run for some time before the 0630 formation, and then I could run for maybe 90 minutes more before I’d need to be rushing into the shower and on to the office.

On Schofield Barracks, I put together a few runs of the right lengths. A 3 mile run up a hill. A 6 mile loop. An 8 mile loop. A 9.25 mile loop. I found that, if I was parked and suited up, I could start running at 0530 for the 6 mile loop, and would finish in time for my 0630 formation. If I was parked and suited up, I could start running at 0500 for the 8.25 mile loop, and be finished in time for the 0530 formation. I could do another 6 or 8 miles (or even 9.25 if I pushed it) and still make it to the office.

But being parked and suited up at 0530 means leaving the house by 0500, or maybe 0510 by the latest. Which means getting up at 0430, to finalize my gear (which I’d pack the night before), have a bowl of Cheerio’s, and to use the facilities (a very serious part of the day).

Ugh. 0430. That’s early. To get 7 and a half hours of sleep, that means being asleep at 2100 / 9 pm. Not in bed, but asleep.

How important is running to you? Would you be asleep at 9 pm most every night, just to be able to have a lot of rally great runs?

And yes, that hour got earlier and earlier, based on just how early I was trying to get up. I had days when I started running at 0500, which meant I was up at 0400. The earliest was this morning; I was up at 0330, running at 0430, and had done almost a half marathon before I even said hello to the Army or my Soldiers at 0630.

Oh, and yes — Cheerios. Every morning, if I can, I have a big bowl of Cheerios. Not big, like Seinfeld, but a good sized bowl of Cheerios, preferably with 1% milk. I have no special eating plan, no special diet. I start my day with Cheerios because I like them and because they seem to work well with running.

Those who known me best also know that while I am not a serious runner, I am very serious about my running. It’s a big, big part of my life. But not something that dominates my life.

I don’t live on Alaskan salmon and brown rice grown on the eastern slopes of the Andes. I don’t eat mega-protein bars, or take special gels. I haven’t sworn off ice cream or alcohol — I mean really, doing that would ruin everything.

No, I try to eat right, but I also eat whatever the hell I want, or whatever the hell my body tells me it needs. Swedish fish? Yeah, sometimes. Peanut M&M’s? There are those days. Sticky rice and mixed vegetables? Sometimes that’s what just seems right. I don’t load up on things, to prepare me for running, and I don’t act differently after runs, to recover / grow muscle / lose weight / etc. I eat, I run, I sleep some.

Have I lost weight? Not really. I had lost some, more for sure, in the prior year. Mid 2009, I weighed maybe 212 lbs. By this summer, I was down at or below 200. Sometimes below, sometimes above. I didn’t / don’t care. But I certainly do feel fit these days.

And my weight certainly does wiggle some. In a week, I could go from as low as 195 to as high as 207. A lot of that is water and food and everything else. It all tends to even out around 200, but it does wiggle. Weird, huh?

Anyway, that’s sleep and food. Now, about those miles.

As you can see, it’s a slow and steady climb to get to 300. Nothing big, nothing brash, nothing fancy. A lot of run. 26 out of 30 days.

But look at that pie chart. Now, I’ve known for a long time at the 10 mile to half-marathon distance was my sweet spot, the length of run with which I am happiest. 5 out of the 26 runs were less than 10 miles, with the shortest being just 3 miles. But that 3 mile day came right after I had a 21.75 mile day, one of just 3 days when I ran 15 or more miles. I wonder how many times one of the Zombies ran 3 miles.

But look at that big wedge — 18 of the 26 runs were 10 or more miles, and less than 15 miles. While I averaged 10 miles per day for the 30 days of this challenge, I actually averaged 11.54 miles per run, for the 26 days I did run during this 30 day period.

That just seems like a lot. A lot in that range, and a lot to average.

But, I did have 4 days when I did not run. One was the 4th of July, and as I mentioned, I had done 40+ miles during the 1-3 July window. There were two days when I had duty, and was unable to run in the morning. And one day I had a meeting at 0600, and could not run. I knew there’d be those days, and I did my best to plan for them and to adjust for them. Obviously, with some success.

I’d like to add, though, that this wasn’t some mad dash for mileage. On the weekends, especially, I’d often take to the hills to continue my adventures in running and seeing Oahu. Some of those runs turned out to be less than 10 miles, sure, but they were insanely beautiful, and included some places that have long been on my list of places to go run.

And it’s been anything but flat. My 6 mile loop goes from about 950 feet of elevation, up to about 1150 feet of elevation. The 9.25 mile loop goes further, up to about 1250 feet. But I did runs that went from the beach to a mountain pass at 1150 feet, and even from the beach up the side of a mountain, to about 2300 feet of elevation. I’d run where I wanted to run, not where I’d easily be able to get my miles. I’d have preferred to have not made the 300 mile mark, than to have missed those runs.

Three more things, and then I’ll wrap this up.

1. It’s hard to run these kinds of miles while in the Army, and not draw attention. Showing up to the first formation of the day literally dripping with sweat after 6 or 8 or more miles, well, it kind of sticks out. Showing up wearing a Camelbak, too, is a bit out of place. Towards the end, I’ve had people asking me how far I’d run that day, how I was doing on reaching 300 etc. It’s been an unusual project, even by Army standards.

2. My shoes are near death. They are a pair of Nike Pegasus, one of two pairs I bought this year back when I had maybe 600 or 700 miles on my last pair (which were ultimately good for 1000+ miles of running). This pair, though, started to split on the sides after 300 or 400 miles. I’ve been hoping they’d last through this adventure, and they barely have. I’ll do one more victory run on them in the morning, before I hide them in the yard next door (they really, really stink, too — happy birthday, Chandra!).

3. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I tried out for the 10-Miler team for my Division. I actually made it as an alternate, not because I’d fast, but because I don’t quit. While running the race, and at other times, people would ask me why I run so much (especially for an old guy). I tell them I train as I fight — this is my zombie plan. When the going gets tough, I’m going to grab my shoes and my camelbak and I’m going to outrun the zombies.

Which, by the way, I did. I did my 300 mile before The Zombies did. I won.

Dear Nike,

I think it’s time we started to see others. Things just aren’t working out.

Now, I know you’re expecting me to next say that it’s not you, it’s me. But I’m not going to.

It’s you.

When we met, I told you that I was interested in a long distance relationship. My life, I said, had me always on the run. But I was serious about seeing you, about us being together. I’m active, and love the outdoors — and these were things that you said you loved, too. I know that some of your friends tell you that I only want to be with you because you’re white, but that’s just not true — I’m totally down with the brown.

We sounded like a good match. Early on, I found myself missing you so very much. When we were apart, you were all I thought about — when I’d see you next, how we’d spend our time together, what great adventures life would bring us.

But it didn’t take long for me to begin to feel that being with you was slowly eating away at my very sole. I’d long for us to be together, but when we were reunited, I’d start to wonder what I ever saw in you. Days with you often left me feeling as if you’d ripped a chunk of flesh out of me. And you’re abrasive — being with you often feels like I’ve been spending time with a cheese grater.

And I’ll be the first to admit — life can be hard. But even after all the blood and sweat and tears, when the paths we choose in life turn out to be harder than expected, I need someone who will be able to hold it all together, not someone who will come apart at the seams.

At our points in life, relationships should be about adventure and exploration and enjoying the better things in life, not pain and misery and some dreaded sense of being slowed down. It should be about chasing adventure, not sitting this one out.

I need someone who will go the distance with me. And that’s not you. Maybe you should try dating a walker.

– Art

PS — You stink. Seriously — you smell really, really bad.

I was going to use the title, 2010 Honolulu Triathlon: You’re Doing It Wrong, but I was worried that some would miss the sarcasm that is so deeply embedded into a comment like that.

So, before I tell you the story, let me tell you the background. There are a few things that relate to this.

1. I’ve never done a triathlon. Back in 2005, I wasn’t running. I was broken, and I was also in the middle of a giant pity-party because PTSD was kicking my ass. The Army patched me up some, and by 2006 I was running again. For 2007, I trained for and completed the marathon in Luxembourg. If you’re going to do one, I figured, do one that will be memorable; Luxembourg was that, for sure. Feeling good about my health, feeling good about my running, I added in some swimming and cycling and toyed with the idea of finding a tri over the 2007/2008 winter;I got as far as reading the Wikipedia article on triathlons, mainly for details on the standard race distances (not all tris are created equal). But instead of doing a tri that winter, I got a no-notice deployment to Romania, where the best I could do was to train up two dozen folks to do the Timişoara Marathon and Dracula Half-marathon.

2. I’m running just under 40 miles per week this year. I think the current average is about 38 miles per week, since 01 JAN 2010. My longest run has been 18 miles, my shortest was 2. I am serious about my running, but I am far from being a serious runner. I am not gazelle; I am a tank.

3. i do everything wrong. I don’t stretch. I put too many miles on a pair of running shoes, if you listen to the running shoe companies. I don’t eat special foods, to go faster. I don’t buy lighter shoes, to save that one second per mile. I don’t do fancy training sessions, or intervals, or fartleks — whatever they are. I drink beer. I eat ice cream, and often. I run when it feels right, and I run as far as I want to at that moment. I stop and take photos. I carry things with me, like baby wipes, or a camelbak, or whatever I think I might need (like bull repellent). I enter organized runs because 1) they’re organized, and 2) they often include access to places I can’t otherwise go. You can tell me that it’s a race, but I won’t race you.

4. I think I am pretty in tune with my body. I say that, because I have had success in recent years doing things, running-wise, that seem to make others question my actions. On four different occasions on my last tour in Iraq, I sprained my left ankle; all four times, I took off one or two days from running and then went right back out to run for distance, swelling be damned. Early last week, my left hamstring seized up; I took one day off and still managed to log about 35 miles for the week. With all the stuff I’ve been doing, I think I have, on a day to day basis, a pretty good grasp on what I can and can’t do.

So, here’s the story.

Friday was a rough day at the office. I did, though, manage to sneak away for some pizza and a late lunch, grabbing the on-post free newspaper to read while I ate. I try to read it every week; it has all kinds of good things in it, from road closures (like Kolekole Pass) to sporting events. Friday, I saw a one paragraph reference to the 2010 Honolulu Triathlon, scheduled for Sunday, 16 May, at Ala Moana, and the note that registration was still open.

Still open? It’s Friday, and the thing is on Sunday. Packet pick up would have to be Saturday. Could registration still be open? Back at the office, I pulled up the website. Online registration was closed, but I could register on Saturday, attend the safety briefing then, and pick up my packet while I also drop off my bike at the staging area.

So, I check the events. Standard / Olympic triathlon, and a Sprint triathlon, and then various swimming events, a 10km run, etc.

Hmmm. Olympic triathlon. Swim 1.5 km — about a mile. Ride 40km — about 25 miles. Run 10km — about 6.2 miles. I am pretty sure that the next thought that entered my head, all on its own, was, “Sh*t, I could do that.”

Poof. A plan started to form.

On and off over the rest of the day, I asked soldiers if they’d ever done a tri. Nope. One guy had done some biathlons — riding and running. I also called the wife — Do we have plans for Sunday? I was thinking of doing something stupid. And you have to love a wife who says, Oh, you totally need to do that. She called our friend of Kauai, who is a personal trainer and has both done tris and trained folks preparing to do a tri — what’s the mechanics of it all? Kauai friend came back with some good notes that the wife passed on to me. Yeah, I can totally do this.

So, when I got home from work, we talked about it some more — not about should I do this, but about how nuts it is that I am going to do this. I don’t think either of us ever had any consideration for anything other than doing this. We said stuff like, This is crazy and Who just decides to do a standard triathlon on the spur of the moment like this?

Saturday morning, and kids and I went and picked up the tiki out on the windward side (that’s a whole other story altogether), and then we all packed up and headed down to Ala Moana — they headed to the mall to shop while I went and did race things. Registration was $100 plus $10 for some associating fee. Whatever — $110 was the military rate for walk-ins like me, when regular folks were going to pay about $200 total. Do events like this get cool points for having special rates for military personnel? Do bears sh*t in the woods? I registered, I listened to the brief, I picked up my packet and got my t-shirt — a very nice one, too, which is a total bonus.

While I was waiting to get my packet, i was in the military line, and I took the chance to ask the couple in front of me for some pointers. They were Army (the tattoos were the give away), and thus we spoke the same vernacular. I should bring one towel to use for my display; place everyone onto it in front of the bike. Bring a hand towel, to clean the feet, but a pan of water is common for serious competitors (which I am not). Rarely do people use camelbaks, but if it’s how I otherwise train, go for it. Hydrate like hell on the ride. Goggles are a must. Biking shorts are almost the greatest creation on the planet, probably second only to the thong bikini. In Army speak, they filled in my information gaps, just like I needed. Totally cool.

That night, I did two things. I packed one bag with all of the big things I had to have with me — bike helmet, towels, shorts and shirts and the like. I also laid out the things to hand carry — clothes to wear, but also wallet, goggles, camera, Garmin, etc. Done, I had the kids tucked into bed and I think I was in bed by 8:30 pm, alarm set for 3:15.

I woke up at 3:10. Some cereal, some last minute checks, and I loaded my pockets with camera, goggles, etc and headed out the door. 3:38 — right on time. At 4:08, i was parking at the Hale Koa, near the start line. The staging area opened at 4:00 AM, and everyone had to be in place and ready by 5:30 AM.

And at 4:08, i realized I had left that bad of clothes, helmet, etc. at the house. No, really — I had. I remembered all the little things, but forgot the big thing.

It turns out, I can make it from the Hale Koa to our house and back in 58 minutes. Nice, huh?

I rolled right into the staging area, grounded my gear, and then got tagged with my number and picked up my chip. From there, I staged my gear on my big towel, rolled right into the safety briefing, and then right to the ocean to get ready to go. I did not have a minute to spare on any of these tasks.

First swimmers hit the water at 0600. Us older men went in around 0615. 1.5km is a nice swim; I really enjoyed it. Only drawback to it wasn’t race related, but camera related. I had mine with me, and it crapped out very quickly. I’m still not sure why. It made do as a paddle for me, though.

From the swim I made it to my bike, got changed using my nicely laid out stuff, and walked my bike out of the staging area to the mount point. Have we talked about my bike? I don’t think we have. I was riding the trek mountain bike that my dad had purchased late in life, and that came to me, via my BIL, after dad had passed. It’s not an urban mountain bike, but one actually suited for trail riding. Think big and heavy and big chunky tires for going through mud. I didn’t even bother to remove the light on the handlebar, or the bike chain and lock wound around the seat post. Fancy riding cleats? Nope. My free bike stood out like Lindsay Lohan in church. Especially considering that about 50% of the riders were on serious machines, costing in the $3000 to $10,000 range. Mine was free — I said that, right? Mine was the only bike out there that looked like it might actually have been pulled out of a canal in Amsterdam.

I was riding away from the bad weather for 10 miles, down towards the Arizona memorial, and after I’d turned around, the storm hit and the pressure dropped, turning the wind direction 180 degrees. Yes, we rode out into the wind, and rode back into the wind. On a mountain bike. At least people had nice things to say about my riding the mountain bike — how very old school, what a challenge, etc.

Oh, and it rained. Yeah, that was nice. A strong head wind, and rain.

But I made it. The ride didn’t kill me. And as I made my way through the transition area again, and stripped down for the run (ditching the sunglasses and the camelbak), the clouds parted, the wind died, and the rain ended. Another hot, hot day for a run on Oahu. Perfect. Where’s the rain when I need it, huh?

As I ran, I kept passing and being passed by this local guy who was wearing an Ironman Korea shirt. Finally, I introduced myself. Jerry, and he was doing his first tri and no, he hadn’t trained either. We ran the run together for most of the way. Pretty cool. He encouraged me to surge ahead when I spotted the wife and kids, but i didn’t.

At the very end, he hit the wall and wanted to slow down; I convinced him otherwise. We crossed the finish line together — that was pretty cool. My daughter was there with a lei, which was just about the coolest thing ever.

No sooner had I finished, than the Taiko Center of the Pacific (TCP) group started to beat their drums. We had no choice — we grabbed seats and watched their awesome performance.

So, there you have it. I was normal in my world Friday morning, and 48 hours later, I’d signed up for and completed a standard triathlon. Wildly bizarre. But, if you want to try a ri, you gotta start somewhere.

I have a thousand and one reasons to stop and reflect on all of the great running I have done in recent months. On Saturday morning, as I wrapped up an 11 mile run through my neighborhood, I passed the 1001 mile mark on my running shoes. Not running shoes in general — no, I’ve pretty much just been wearing the one pair (with limited exception), and that’s 1001 miles on that pair.

They are dirty and nasty. They stink like you would likely not believe, even though I have been washing them semi-regularly to try and fight that. Any sense of spring in them left a few hundred miles ago. If I believed Nike, they would have been retired on OCT 7 when I passed the 300 mile mark. I’m sure glad I didn’t.

Because last week, these are the shoes I used to outrun an angry adult bull. These are some good shoes.

I had started in these shoes in August 2009, when I formally returned to marathon training. I was in Iraq, I was under a lot of stress with my job, I was ramping up to start IBOL, and I needed to get back to running to help balance out life. Training for a marathon, the Honolulu Marathon set for after I returned home from Iraq, seemed like a good way to do that. New phase, new shoes. The choice of shoes was uneventful — I had bought one pair of Nike Pegasus when I was on block leave, liked them, and bought another pair through the mail knowing that Nike would phase them out before I was ready to try something else. That second pair is what I have been using.

I ran on them in Iraq. I ran on them in Hawaii, and Arizona, and California. On land and in the sea, and through too many puddles and creeks and streams to try and count. In the desert, and in the snow, on paved roads and muddy trails. I don’t think I ran on them through fire, though — I just never happened on any when running. I’m not some elite athlete, some fancy Ferrari of a runner who needs a special diet or special gear, and these are just running shoes. They’ve taken me where I needed to go.

And along the way, I learned a few things.

I enjoy running. OK, not the actual running part, but I love getting out and running. Maybe when I slow down some later, I’ll transition to hiking. But during all these miles, I’ve seen some beautiful scenery, run some awesome trails, and enjoyed getting out to run. Along the way, I’ve taken a few thousand photos (ah, thank heavens for the age of the digital camera), with some decent results. But I’ve found a way to get out and run and explore and see things no matter where life and the Army has taken me.

Replacing shoes every 300 miles, just because you’ve run 300 miles, makes no sense. A while ago, I was researching running at the Army website for safety, and they had very little to say about running and shoes — except that there isn’t scientific or academic research to back up a prescribed need to replace shoes based on miles — it’s the feet and the shoes that determines that, it said. And I’d have to agree.

Running injuries can be terrible, but a lot of them aren’t so bad. With these shoes, I’ve sprained my ankle five times — as in, swollen up like a grapefruit, hurts to walk on it, and people see it and say, “Damn!” The first time, I was 1.89 miles into a 4 mile run — and I finished the 4 miles. The 2nd time, I was a quarter mile into a 7 mile run when I rolled my ankle off the side of the road and went sprawling onto the desert floor — and I still went ahead and ran the 7 miles. #3 and #4 really hurt — I only finished half the planned mileage because the ankle not only hurt, but also started to swell a lot right away. #5 was bad enough to get me to take 2 days off from running — something I did not do for the previous 4 sprains. And I’ve had other minor aches and pains — a knee that sometimes hurts and sometimes just makes a lot of noise, a rotor cuff that really doesn’t like me, and then there was the period when my Achilles tendon and I weren’t really talking but more ignoring each other. All the while, I’ve kept running. At worse, on the earliest sprains, I took anti-inflammatory meds to help with the swelling, but other than that, I’d kept on running. I didn’t think I’d be able to.

And I’ve learned that old farts like me can do a lot more than they think. I am averaging close to 40 miles per week this year, at a time when most of my soldiers are doing 10. In 2005, when my PTSD was at its worst, I was a good 30 lbs heavier than I am now, and all I am doing these days is running and eating ice cream. And my PTSD? As stressful as this job is, it’s under control — like an alcoholic, I suppose, I’ll have to live one day at a time with it, but the running helps tremendously when my stress levels go up.

So, on Monday, I will break out the new shoes. I already have some miles on them — I took them to Prescott with me, and wore them one week here. And I think they’ll be good for some miles; they’re the Nike Pegasus model from last year or the year before, one year newer then the pair being retired, and they look and feel about the same — just new and springy. Give me a few months — I’ll beat that springiness right out of them.

I’ve had a big week of running. This is a big year of running for me, a year when I’m averaging a hair under 40 miles of running per week. This week, I ran almost 65.

65 miles. I had no plans to run anything close to that I figured it was going to be just another week, a week of probably running 40 miles. I started the week off with a 3 hours run through the hills on the Aiea Loop, a run that might have been 11 miles long, or maybe a bit more.

But Monday morning, I found myself heading up Kolekole Pass, on a 9.5 mile loop that I had run before. I knew that if I did it right, I’d be to the top by 0715 and back to the car by 0805. And Tuesday morning, I found myself doing it again. And thinking I might be able to do it every day of the week.

Could I really? Could I go up that pass every day of a week? Yeah, maybe. I figured I’d give it a try. It turns out that I could do it.

And, with the wife having plans for Sunday morning, I planned to close out the week this morning with an early morning run. I’ve wanted to go up to the Pali Lookout and run the old Pali Highway, so I made that day today. It was a good run, one that was maybe 5.5 miles of down the hill and then back up. Not too far, not too steep, not too much of an ass-kicker. And I think I took something like 150 photos on the run.

I couldn’t push myself to a 60+ mile running week without a lot of prep work. In the nine prior week, I’d run 328 miles, with three of those weeks being between 45 and 50 miles of running. I think the weeks of running, and the regular 40+ miles per week, has been key.

Also important has been food. I tried to do a better job this week of listening to my body and its food needs. My weight dropped 6 or 7 pounds between last Saturday and tonight, but it sure could have been more. Most days, after my morning run, I was able to hold off on eating until lunch. A few days, the worst of them, I went and found some nearly-pure-sugar stuff to pick me back up – Gummi bears, Swedish Fish, something like that. But mostly, I tried to stick to planned meals.

And yes, I am still as crappy a runner as always. I still don’t stretch. I still run when my knee / ankle / joints / etc. ache. My running shoes, my ever-faithful Nike Pegasus, have passed the 850 mile mark, and they stink to high-holy hell. I’m still running in whatever random running clothes I have, I still run too far and too often with either little or no water with me. But it all seems to be working out.

If I can do 60+ miles in a week, can I do 100 miles in a week? Probably. If I can do that, can I run another marathon? A 30 mile run? A 50 mile run? Could I run from Ala Moana to, say, Kailua Beach State Park? That’d be about 15 miles. Could I run there and back? That would take me past the Pali Lookout, and up and down that ridge, not once but twice.

Yeah, maybe. Pushing myself out to 60+ miles this week was hard, but it served as a good reminder that 1) I am in better shape than I thought, and 2) I can do a lot more than I think I can do.

And that’s pretty cool.

I wish people would stop calling it that. Most often, they are actually referring to the record companies. This might seem like splitting hairs, but it’s not.

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

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

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

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

It’s been such a quiet month. For having to return to work, to resume being a productive member of society, it’s been rather an uneventful month. And yes, I really, really like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In keeping with all the recent press and concerns about safety this winter, I thought it high-time I shared my thoughts about winter survival this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Early this morning, I was sitting on a rock, watching waves roll in. The air was mostly calm, with just a gentle breeze. The sun was warm, but hidden some behind the ridge behind me. I had on my running shoes, some old and well beaten socks, and my shorts, nursing water from my camelbak after a pleasant 6 mile run.

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

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

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

The shoes, they’re just a little tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that the marathon is behind me, block leave has come and gone, and the new year is just about here, I am starting to look forward to 2010 and what it may bring. I don’t know yet if I will be packing out again, to go back to Iraq or maybe Afghanistan, but I suspect it will. Worst case it will. But I do know one thing — I want to get out and run more in 2010.

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

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

Now, I want to see Oahu.

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

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

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

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

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

On August 11, at Camp Speicher near Tikrit, Iraq, I snuck out at night and did a 3 mile run. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t good in any sense of the term. But it was 3 miles. And it marked the start of my training for the 2009 Honolulu Marathon, using the Hal Higdon training plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After Eugene, I’ve taken to the hills east of Los Angeles, to spend 10 days with my father in law. After a year in Iraq, surrounded by the same people and same desert, day in and day out, I wanted / needed to get away and regroup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3W12 is pretty steep, it turns out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As my ten days in Eugene comes to a close, I have come to realize that coming here and running here really marks a milestone for me and my views on my running. Though I may be on the trail of Prefontaine, I am certainly not chasing Prefontaine.

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

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CNN is just now starting to talk about a 1.5 meter by 1 meter hole under the railbed, and Russian assertions that — gasp! — this tragic accident may not be an accident but indeed the work of (dum, dum, DUM!) terrorists.

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

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

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

Bear with me, folks.

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

(Bear with me — I have a few that I am restoring manually from the Google cache. This is one of them.)

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

Oooooooh, doggie – it was worth it, too.

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

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

(Gotta love the Pilsner Urquell glass, too!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

All is right in the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Indeed, all is right in the world.

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

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

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

Less than one week back from Iraq, and I’ve already covered just shy of 50 miles of running. I’m a little sore, but it feels great. Between server issues, moved half way across the world, and readjusting the life at home, I’m not said much about what’s going on. Let’s start with the running — it’s easy to talk about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About 6 weeks ago, my blog crapped out on me. One day, poof, all by itself, it lost a bunch of data without explanation. I run everything from my own server, and I’d set WordPress to email me regular backups of the database, so I wasn’t too worried about it — other than not having the time to go in and fix it, and wanting better bandwidth to use in fixing it. Well, I had both tonight. Welcome back, Mr. Blog.

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

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

1. Hanging out with the wife and kids.

2. Working on the honey-do list.

3. Running.

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

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

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

So, yeah. It’s good to be home.

I made it through another week, injury free. That, though, is getting tougher as the lunar month comes to a close this week and the moon goes away. Running it darkness can be awesome, but it can be tough on ankles.

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

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

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