I have had a lifelong love/hate relationship with iTunes. I would like to tell you that it dates to when I was in the womb, but it’s not that tragic of a tale.

My music tastes aren’t simple. I have no one “thing” that I am into, really. My brother, in his brilliance, exposed me to the classics of the sixties and the seventies, and instilled in me a great love for all things classic rock, from the Who to Led Zep.

On my own, I found punk and fell hard for it; I still worship at the altar of the only band that matters, the Clash, and could get lost in the sounds of my high school and college days, with bands as diverse as the Squeeze and Jam and Cure, and as far flung as KLF and Bow Wow Wow and the one hit wonders of Modern English.

And over a dozen years ago, thanks to a small sidebar article about freelance Hellraiser and a little ditty called A Stroke of Genie-us, I found and embraced mash-ups, which can either be considered a genre of their own or prove that today, music defies genres.

Which is why, when we all switched from mix tapes to an amassed collection of MP3s, I found solace iTunes. Smart playlists made all the differences. With a little work and some Boolean logic, I could not only teach my iPod how to better play my music, I could teach it how to serve up music based not just on genre, but at intervals based on ratings. And, up until iTunes version 4.6, iTunes was actually smart enough to dynamically do this on the fly, on the device.

Best songs, rated five stars, would be played at least three days apart. Great songs, rated four songs, would be played no more than once a week. Middle of the road songs, no more than once every two weeks. The rest, rated at two stars, would be played no more than once every three weeks. And I could always, as needed, downgrade a song to 1-star, and it would drop out of the cue altogether, because I used 1-star as a holding pattern for deletion. Together, these formed what I called my base radio station, often just called @Art so that it showed up at the top of my options.

But I could refine that even more. I’ve long had a playlist called 91X that was @art and then any of a bunch of bands from my college days – U2 OR REM OR INXS OR Social Distortion OR Dead Milkmen and on and on. Applying the same Boolean logic kept the same play interval rules, and then sub-filtered to just the bands.

And over the years, as our inventories have grown, I have added specialty playlists for differing devices, but keeping them offset from each other. I have an older ipod that I use to use for long runs and long rides – that I loaded with long mashups. Stuff that was in the cue there wouldn’t show up in, say, the playlists on my phone. In the end, I could have songs set to lay only on one device at a time, but once play, could show up on another device.

There are a couple of things that really make all of this work. The first is having great Boolean rules. I write and rewrite and change and tinker with them, as needed. But that base radio station concept, described above, has been the anchor point for years and years. It’s more complicated – now I filter out classical and holiday music, for example, in the event some sneaks into my library by accident – but the basic idea hasn’t changed.

Everything is tagged. Genres as assigned, not by accident but by me. Ratings are assigned, but by accident but by me. And I lowball things by default, too. But using Boolean logic means having data to search; if I watch to make a playlist for music released in the 80′s, it gets easier if that stuff is in there (MediaMonkey is a big part of that, by the way).

Which is why I am where I am right now – a late night on a weekend, taking a break from rating songs, to blog a rating songs. I just added back in 85 volumes from Mash-Up Your Bootz Party, which works out to about 1600 songs when you throw in the extras, too. The bulk tags were already there (hard written to the files, via MediaMonkey), but there’s still the task of rating them. I could just bulk rate them something like 2-stars and be done with it, but there are pure-gold nuggets in there that need to surface. So, due diligence to find and bring them out – so the Boolean works and the integrated smartlists can do their things.

(Here‘s a much, much older piece I wrote about smart playlists, complete with pictures. Have questions? Just ask.)

Why do I still feel like the new guy at the office?
A briefer today said, “Next mimeograph, please.”¯
I shit you not.

Do I need to say it? Spoiler Alert.
Read the rest of this entry »

Summary: Hidden away along the eastern edge of the middle section of the park, the Staunton River Trail hike to Jones Mountain Cabin is one of the hidden treasures of the Shenandoah National Park. In 1500 feet, the trail ascends along a nice, well maintained route along the picturesque babbling brook before heading up the ridge to the cabin.

The Good: At 7 miles, and as a not very strenuous hike, most folks should be able to make it out to the cabin and back in 4 hours or under. It’s walking — no scrambling over rocks, no trying to pick a path through some challenge, this is just a nice walk. And this trail features shade, shade and more shade in the afternoon, which will be nice on a hot afternoon. And if you’re up for the adventure, the cabin is operated by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, through whom you can arrange to stay there. The area is quiet, and lesser traveled than other parts of the national park — an ideal place to get away and enjoy the quiet peace of the forest.

Jones Mountain Cabin 003

The Bad: In the winter, that same shade can come back to bite you in the ass. On a cold, cold day, that shade will be a game changer, though the hike would be no less enjoyable for those who are prepared. Oh, and there’s little to no cell phone coverage in the area.

The Ugly: No, there’s not really anything ugly about this hike.

Jones Mountain Cabin 084

Type of route: Meandering path.
Good to hike in the rain? Absolutely.

Length: 7 miles each way.

Jones Mountain Cabin 009

Options for the route: Instead of turning left to follow Staunton River Trail, keep going straight (North) along the Rapidan River for another 1.5 miles, to Rapidan Road. There are two other options farther up Staunton River Trail — keep following the river and skip the cabin, which will take you to The Sag (great name); or start to head to the cabin, but turn to follow the ridge up to Bear Church Rock. Going to The Sag is about a 5.5 mile hike, one way; Bear Church Rock, likewise, is about a 3.75 mile hike each way. it is very possible to hike to The Sag, and then come back down via Bear Church Rock as well.

Elevation change: 1500 feet.
Water used: 2 liters.

Jones Mountain Cabin 036

Where to start: At the end of State Route 622. The trailhead is at the end of the circle there.
Where to park: Same.
Point your car’s GPS towards: If your GPS can handle it, point it to State Route 622. Or 38°26’13.74″N 78°22’1.57″W. Most realisticly, you’ll need to point it to Rapidan Ranch, Madison, VA 22727.

My Google Earth file: here
My Garmin file: here

Jones Mountain Cabin 049

Facilities
Water? Pull from Staunton River anywhere you want; you’ll want to purify as you go.
Toilets? At the cabin, there’s an outhouse. Nothing at the trailhead.
Medical care? No.
Ranger / park folks? No.
Picnic areas? At the cabin only.
A place to change afterwards? No.

Jones Mountain Cabin 075

Rewards in the area: Not much. There’s either something like Culpeper and Luigi’s or Baby Jim’s, or you’re hitting El Agave in Ruckersville. None of these are bad choices, but none of these are near the trailhead.

You’ll hike this route when…. Skyline Drive is closed, or it’s going to be a zoo. Or when you’re worried about biting off more than you can chew, and you’d rather start with a climb instead of a descent.

Jones Mountain Cabin 073

My rating: 7

Music: Mash-Up Your Bootz Party – Best Of 2009 Mix (mixed into a single track by DJ Morgoth)

Jones Mountain Cabin 038

Weather / Trail warnings / Permits: Shenandoah National Park

More reading: here and here and here. Park Info: here

The view from the top of Haʻikū Stairs, with Kāneʻohe Bay in the background

What’s not to love about a mid-week hike up a Hawaiian mountain ridge, across treacherous and perilous cliff faces, to a WWII era communications site and the almost-4000 rickety stairs that take you down a seriously steep cliff to the valley below? My good fortune this week was to do just such a hike, and I loved every minute of it.

It’s actually a little weird to write that. I never thought I would have one. I guess I just assumed that Iraq would always be in my life.

But here I am.

Being with Iraq has been, I suppose, a lot like being trapped in a loveless marriage. I’ve known her strengths and weaknesses, what makes her happy and sad. There had been things that I could do to calm her down, to sooth her nerves and make her day better. But there had also been things that I could do that would rile her up, piss her off enough to where I knew she’d threaten to make war with me. Love, hate — we’d been together for so long that we’d long ago stopped talking about such things. We’d start our days together, and sometimes end them that way, too — we were together yesterday, we’re together today, so surely will still be together tomorrow.

Only now we aren’t.

I don’t miss her, but I remember her. The way she smelled. Her dust, so fine that it could feel like silk one second and a cancerous grit the next. The gentle sounds she’d make in the morning, long before anyone stirred or even the first call to prayer.

In the end, there was no fight, no explosive end or outburst. No, it just ended, unremarkably.

I could not go back to Iraq, and that’d be just fine with me. I don’t long for my kids to have the chance to visit, to see the sights and hear the sounds, to soak up her people and culture and unique magic. I’d prefer they have the chance to go to Disneyland.

And so, here I am, normal again. Like everyone else. I have my tribe, my people, my place. We have our ways, and our words, and our things, and I’m no longer caught between my world and Iraq. And that’s OK. I am at peace with this.

American Vice President Joe Biden has an interesting piece in the New York Times, here. His article starts off with all of the usual fluff, about how the US has stood by Iraq and her people and her government, how Iraq has made such progress, how things are going so well, and yes, how the Obama administration has kept its promises about drawing down the number of forces in Iraq.

But the most telling section was this one, the 9th paragraph and one near the end of the article.

Nevertheless, Iraq’s security forces are not yet ready to operate fully on their own, and we must continue to support them. We must also help Iraq’s leaders with a range of challenges that lie ahead: conducting a census; further integrating Kurdish security forces into the Iraqi security forces; maintaining commitments to the Sons of Iraq, the Sunni groups that banded together against insurgents; resolving disputed internal boundaries and the future of the northern city of Kirkuk, which is claimed by both Arabs and Kurds; passing a hydrocarbon law that would distribute oil revenues and maximize the benefit to all Iraqis; stabilizing the economy through foreign investment, private sector development and new sources of revenue beyond oil; passing a fiscally responsible budget; and bringing to a close its post-Gulf war obligations to the United Nations.

I’ve not read a more sad piece by an American Vice President since, well, I don’t even know when. Iraq does need our help, and will need our help. But she won’t need US troops on the ground in Iraq, not after 2011. And she won’t ask for US troops to stay beyond 2011.

Yes, I do understand that this must sound odd — who the hell am I to argue that our American VP is wrong? He was, after all, a long-time member of the US Senate, and a long-time member (and later Chair) of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. He obviously knows enough to know what Iraq needs, right?

Don’t fall for this logical fallacy of an appeal to authority. You know that even Einstein’s wife wasn’t afraid to tell him he was wrong.

1a. Iraq’s security forces aren’t just ready to operate fully on their own, they are operating fully on their own. The rank-and-file Iraqi Iraqi Army units are out there, every day, conducting operations on their own, even as you read this. Ditto for the police, ditty for the National Police, ditto for the security forces on the Iraqi border. Iraq has a military that has, almost exclusively, been oriented towards internal security threats, the one time when it was otherwise was during the 80′s when it was balanced between internal threats and the war with Iran. Yes, we must continue to support them, but no, that doesn’t mean US forces on the ground, or a change to how things use to be (embedded US forces as ride-along advisers and door-kickers), and it certainly doesn’t mean that we need to talk them into buying American-made weapons systems like the hard-to-maintain M1 tank or the harder-to-maintain M16 of M4. The Iraqi military isn’t some Mini-Me of the US Army; they have their ways of doing things, from door-kicking to intelligence gathering to targeting bad guys. We need to help them, but in ways in which they want and need to be helped, not in a role we really, really want us to play.

1b. Actually, I suspect that the VP is talking about commandos and counter-terrorism forces. Guys who go out into the night and capture / kill the worst of the worst. My $3 bet says that the Iraqis would be willing to give this a go themselves, but would welcome our guys tagging along, so long as our guys brought they gadgets and toys and neat things that Iraq can’t buy on the open market. In all honesty, I’d rather we partner with the Iraqis to work with them on the stuff that’s in FM 3-24 (also here), our counter-insurgency doctrine field manual. I guess I’m old school, wanting to end the fighting instead of getting the high score for the most bad guys captured / killed.

2. The Iraqis do not need our help in conducting a census. My goodness, I think everyone understands how to do that. If not, there’s this thing called the Google that they can consult. I know what you’re thinking — why in the world would the American VP even include this in his laundry list of issues, much less include it as #2 in the list? The census actually reflects three things — the Iraqi government actually deciding to do it, and then what the results are (and with that, just how much corruption is involved), and lastly, how the census data is used. The ground truth is this: there will be no Iraqi census, not any time soon at least. There could be one in, say, 20 years. But I doubt it’d be in any time less than that. No one in Iraq gains from Iraq actually having a census; the census would then bring to a head a number of ugly, ugly issues — like the future of the Kurds. Like the distribution of oil revenues. Iraq is a land where isn’t not the facts that matter, but the deal that can be made. An actual census would be counter-productive, and I’d venture to say, an un-Iraqi thing as well.

3. There will be no further integrating Kurdish security forces into the Iraqi security forces. Can I say that any more clearly? The leaders of the Kurdish tribes, and yes, I do mean Barzani (President of the Kurdish Regional Government and head of the KDP) and Talabani (President of Iraq, and head of the PUK) might call their militia forces “Peshmerga“, but really, they are tribal militias local to their tribes. There is no unity in Kurdish forces, and there never will be. When the Kurdish tribe calls, their fighters answer. The Kurds would like for the Iraqi Government to pay for the Kurdish fighters, from salaries to new weapons, so that the Kurdish regional Government or, really, the Kurdish tribes don’t have to, but there will not be a day when a Peshmerga unit is reflagged as an Iraqi Army unit and sent to Basra. Kurdish security forces, from the Peshmerga to their security and intelligence forces, are loyal first to their patrons, then to the Kurds, and then to Iraq. Integration is a pipe dream.

4. Iraq’s problems with maintaining its commitments to the Sons of Iraq isn’t an issue of willingness, and it’s a problem with the agreement itself. To be blunt, it’s a no-win situation. Yes, some 205 to 25% of the Sons of Iraq were integrated into the Iraqi Security Forces — into the Army or police or similar. But for a group of militiamen who took up runs with their tribe, to provide localized security in their tribal areas, I’d be willing to bet good money that most if not all of them would want or maybe even expected to be transitioned into Army or police jobs in their same neighborhoods. After fighting Al Qaeda in Anbar for 5 years, who wants to go to Basra to train as an electrician to then work for a local school? Who wants to lose the prestige of providing security to their own tribe, or to leave their own area? Yes, Iraq has a long history of the central government being the main employer of Iraqi people (OK, men), but the coffers are empty, the price of oil is in the toilet, and oil production is lower than the optimistic Iraqis projected. The Iraqi government can’t just put these guys on the payroll and leave them where they are, but the Sons of Iraq don’t want to go to where the jobs actually are.

5. Don’t believe this stuff about the need to resolve the disputed internal boundaries and somehow settle the future of the northern city of Kirkuk. American isn’t helping on this one. The Kurds would like to be Kurds, with a Kurdish land under Kurdish rule. Call it the Kurdish Regional Government, or call it the dreaded K word — Kurdistan. Whatever you call it, it is an issue for the Iraqi people to resolve themselves. It is not possible to have both a strong Iraqi government and an independent Kurdish land in Iraq. Iraq will end up with either a weak central government that tolerates the Kurds having their Kurdish Regional Government so long as they behave, or Iraq will have a strong central government which will bring the Kurds back under more direct control. It’d be easy to look at the new government and say, “Wow, that’s a weak government, so I guess the Kurds are going to have it good for a while.” But all Iraq needs is a single strong leader with control of the use of force, and he can crush any renewed dreams of a Kingdom of Kurdistan. This isn’t about boundaries or about Kirkuk; it’s about Iraq as a state and a nation, versus ethnic and sectarian divides between Kurds and their Sunni and Shia Arab brothers.

6. And a lot of the same things can be said about VP Biden’s call for an American role in helping the Iraqis pass a hydrocarbon law that would “distribute oil revenues and maximize the benefit to all Iraqis.” This is about Iraqs internal struggle over having a strong central government, or having a separate states within Iraq. The Kurds would like to control their own oil production and oil sales, and to keep their own oil profits, but the Shia of Southern Iraq raise those same issues from time to time, too. With the bulk of the oil outside of Baghdad, it’s not hard to see why many Iraqis question why the profits flow to Baghdad. But keep these things in mind. Oil production and sales in Iraq is a nationalized industry; it is the central government of Iraq who does it. And oil is the basis of the national economy, almost exclusively; there would be no power for the national government if it did not control the oil revenues. Those same funds, though, drive the nepotism that is such a key part of the Iraqi way of life. Both corruption and the distribution of wealth, I think, will be tolerated so long as they work.

7. And seriously, I have no idea what VP Biden means by suggesting a US role in stabilizing the economy through foreign investment, private sector development and new sources of revenue beyond oil. Sure, I understand that American companies would like the US Government to help them in securing oil contracts in Iraq, but beyond that, well, there isn’t much. Exporting dates or pomegranates won’t come close to exporting oil any time soon. Iraq isn’t going to start making exotic cars, or fine watches. I suspect American businesses on the whole would have issues with how business is done in Iraq, and the rules (official or otherwise) they’d be expected to follow there. I mean, really — what American firm would pay the jizya, and what American stockholder would accept that it needed to be paid? If you’re not thinking of investing in oil, I don’t know what you’re thinking.

8. I wonder what the Iraqis would say, about VP Biden’s comment on the need for Americans to help the Iraqis in passing a fiscally responsible budget. The Iraqis, after all, do read CNN and the NY Times, and they are aware of what has been going on in the American economy and budget. Hell, all they need to do it watch videos on YouTube and they’d probably turn down our offer to provide financial advice.

9. And lastly, Iraq can bring to a close its post-Gulf war obligations to the United Nations all on its own. In fact, I am kind of surprised to see VP Biden raise this issue. After all, Germany took 92 years to pay of its war reparations from World War I. So, it’s not like Iraq us up against the clock on this one. Germany has been and remains one of Americas closest allies, and if it takes the US 92 years of helping for Germany to bring her war obligations to a close, well, Iraq may not want or need our help on this one.

I’m not saying I understand Iraq better than VP Biden. I’m just saying that Iraq isn’t America, that Iraqi ways aren’t American ways, and that Iraqi problems and interests aren’t American problems and interests. America can be a good friend by starting every day by asking the Iraqis, “So, how can we help you today” and patiently waiting to hear how Iraq answers. Some days, there will be pointed requests, but on other days, I suspect Iraq will say, “You know, I’m good today. Thanks for asking, though.”

Back in April, I retired a pair of Nike Pegasus running shoes (here). I had put over 1,000 miles on them. Yes, one thousand. 1,012, actually. Good shoes, they lasted pretty well, and it was splits in the fabric along the sides that eventually did them in.

I was pretty pleased with that pair. 1,000 miles – that seems like a good amount for a pair of shoes, all the more so when I thought about how Nike and the shoe businesses would like me to replace my running shoes every 300 miles. Sure, I wasn’t running barefoot, but I was running on shoes that were well past the point of offering a lot of cushion or spring. I ran and ran and ran on that pair, in Iraq and Oregon and Lake Arrowhead and all across Oahu. I’d run in the desert, in the mountains, through snow and creeks and streams, on roads and sidewalks and trails.

So, with their retirement, I broke out the reserves — another pair of Nike Pegasus running shoes that I had purchased at the same time as the previous pair (if you find something that works, my dad use to say, buy multiples). They worked just fine. No blisters, no bumps, no bruises, no shin splints, no stress fractures — they worked. And after a little bit, I beat them flat and pounded the cushion and spring out of them, too. I ran them hard — from the Honolulu Triathlon, to my 300-mile month in July. But by July, they were starting to quit on me. Same deal — the fabric on the sides started to split, this time after a hair under 700 miles. By the end of July, and the end of my 300 mile month, I was writing a letter to my Nikes (here), telling them that maybe it was time for us to start seeing other people. What I wanted from our relationship (1,000 miles of no-questions-asked running) seemed to be more than they were able to give.

I even went so far as to do some social networking, to see if another shoe company would throw some free shoes my way. I wanted — I really, really wanted — to find some shoes that would love me unconditionally,ones that would be in it for the long haul and not long enough to amuse me until a new model came out and I could be convinced to buy a new pair.

Well, that failed. In the meantime, I went back into my kit bag and pulled out the last of my reserves — one more pair of Nike Pegasus running shoes. Maybe, I told myself, it’ll be different this time. Maybe, if we start spending time together again, it’ll be different this time. Maybe they’ve changed. After all, Nike has been talking a lot about running recently. Maybe they meant it.

They didn’t.

I threw them in the trash today. 535 miles of running killed them. 535 miles. I was just warming up to them. they were just starting to look right, with that mix of Hawaiian red and all-around mud. Their stink wasn’t yet to the point of warding off attacking bulls. As you can see, this time, the whole face exploded.

So, that’s it. I’m done with Nike. They’ve lost me. I was a good and faithful customer, someone who bought them out of hope and faith and dreams and fond memories. Gone are their days of making good shoes; from the looks of it, they appear far more focused on elite, specialty shoes (here). Which is fine — or would be fine, if the world was filled with elite and specialty runners. Racers, really.

I’m no racer. I’m a runner. It is not possible for me to care less about split times, or personal records for all the various distances. I don’t do fartleks, and I don’t limit my diet to only left-handed salmon that swim in the northern Pacific and favor jazz music.

I am a runner. Not a hobbyist, and not an olympic athlete. I run. You wouldn’t commute to work in an exotic and expensive to maintain Italian exotic sports car, and I’m not going to run in shoes that last exactly 3.5 months.

Here you go, Asics. Here’s your chance. Don’t let me down.

I spent 2009 in Iraq. I ran some during the first part of the year, but not enough, and certainly not many long runs. As the mid point of the year approached, and as I got ready to return home to my family in Hawaii, I decided that I’d crank up my miles to the point where I’d be able to run a half-marathon without dying. My R&R arrived, I flew to Hawaii, and while there, I did some running.

But after my R&R, I returned to Iraq and a new, very stressful job. Long hours, crazy hours. So, I kept running. I realized that the long runs were helping with the stress, helping to keep some sense of balance in my life. Sure, I was running in the dark of night, and sure, I was spraining my ankle from time to time, but it was working for me.

So, I set my sights on the Honolulu marathon, in December 2009. I dusted off my Excel spreadsheet for the Hal Higdon mileage plan for training for a full marathon, and I started to put in the miles. December came, I ran the marathon, and life was great. I closed out 2009 by resting; it had been a hell of a year.

2010 started with no great design. I was home from Iraq, work was OK but not crazy. I still had the same job, it was still stressful, but at nowhere near the levels it had been in Iraq. I was going to exercise with my unit in the morning, and I quickly discovered that, one most weekdays, I’d have about 50 minutes to run.

Hmm. 50 minutes, five days a week. I could easily run 5 miles in those 50 minutes. I’m in decent shape, I thought — I could probably do that 5 days a week. 25 miles a week — that’d be neat to do. I could totally do that.

But what if I snuck out one morning each weekend, and went to run some different parts of the island? 25 miles per week with the unit is a respectable amount of miles, but really — it’s kinda boring. It’s a lot of streets in the neighborhoods, lots of trips around parade fields and between tanks. There’s no jungle canopy, no dirt trails along a cliff. There’s no exploring that way. I asked the wife, and got the go-ahead to add in a weekend run.

Hmm. 25 miles during the week, and, say, a half-marathon or so on the weekend. Geez, I’m up to almost 40 miles per week. That’s kinda cool. I wonder if I could do that all year. And if I did do that all year, well, 40*52 is over 2000. Wouldn’t that be something, to run 2010 miles in 2010. I wonder if I could do it.

And that’s what set the tone for the year. I started to read books and look online for places to go run here on Oʻahu – and ended up starting my own separate blog to write about my adventures running (and to make the website I wish I could have found when I decided to start exploring this island on foot). I found Na Ala Hele, and it changed my life — so many good trails to run and explore, so little time. My plan became to run 25 miles during the week, pick up some more miles on the weekend, hope to average 40 miles per week, and maybe — just maybe — put in 2010 miles in 2010.

But things change. In June, I ended up in Iraq again, for a short visit. Did it alter my plans? Only slights — 5 runs for 66 miles over the two or so weeks I was off-island, and it actually included an 18 mile, middle-of-the-night trek, too. 5 runs for 66 miles — that’s averaging a half-marathon every time I ran, with the shortest of those runs being just 10 miles (and that was the night I landed in Iraq — I landed, dropped my bags, ate a light meal, and then ran 10 miles).

As July started, I joked with some of my soldiers — I could probably run 10 miles every day, for a month. Thus was born the Sparta Challenge — 300 miles, in 30 days. I’m still not really sure how that came to be, but it was really neat to do — and left me feeling fantastic about my fitness and conditioning levels. 300 miles in 30 days? Wow – I am indeed a runner.

That left just three things.

1. There are two state trails that require special permits in order to access them; I’ve now run one of them, and am working on plans to run the second one at the end of this month.

2. My unit had an exercise set for most of September. That would eat into my running time. Instead of my usual 160+ miles per month, I managed just 138. It was off by a bit, but I don’t see this as derailing my efforts to run 2010 in 2010. I was worried, though.

3. I’d never run an ultra. I’ve run two marathons in my day, a couple of ~20 mile runs, and gobs in the 13.1+ mile range — but never anything father than 26.2 miles. Ever since Luxembourg, I’ve had “Run an ultra” on my bucket list. Well, i did that Thursday night. I ran from my house, half-way across the island to Schofield Barracks, where I took the long loop (11.25) around post and up Kolekole Pass, before running back home. 5+ hours, 31 miles — I think 50km is considered the baby of ultra-marathons, but it counts.

I never thought I’d run 40 miles per week. I never thought I’d run 300 miles in 30 days. I never thought I’d take off one night and run 50 km (especially since I’d run 10km that morning at PT).

Today, I am 83 days out from the end of the year, and I need to run just 382 more miles to reach my goal of running 2010 miles in 2010. Granted, during those 83 days, I also need to close up shop here in Hawaii and move back to Iraq for another year — but I can work with that. 382 miles in 83 days — that’s an average of just 4.6 miles per day, and only 32 miles per week. In July, I averaged 10 miles per day, and this week I ran almost 80 miles — I think I can do this.

For not having a plan when the year started, it sure seems to have come together nicely since then.

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.

Wait, one better — I bet I can average 10 miles per day, 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.

They might last 700 miles

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?

Me and my shoes

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.

The View from the Side of Diamond Head 1

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

Nice quiet neighborhoods

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.

Darth Vader - FTW!

Yoda on the run

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.

Running to the Sun

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.

Approaching Ala Moana at night

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.

Lingering before the race

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.

Stopping at the Kegger

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.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.