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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I’m running again. When the Doc told me recently that my foot would be ok — no broken bones, no bone spur, likely just a soft tissue injury — I told him I was itching to get back to running.

Stay off of it for two weeks, he said. Take these, he said.

Well, one for two ain’t too bad. I’d not run in about ten days by that point, so I waited a few more and got back to running. After all, this is week 0.

I’ve got my eye on the Honolulu Marathon. And I’m not alone. More than a few soldiers from my unit are eyeballing it. I am not alone.

Now, getting ready for a marathon isn’t a simple thing, and it’s not an overnight thing. So, I am planning to again use the Hal Higdon training plan to use the next 18 weeks to get ready.

18 weeks. Starting, while I am in deployed, in northern Iraq, in the summer, and working nights. 18 weeks, that will include us going at full throttle at work, prepping to and handing over out mission to someone else, flying half way around the world, taking weeks of vacation, traveling to the continental US, and, oh yeah, reuniting with my family.

That, and the little issue of 435 miles to run, between here and the start of the marathon. Yeah — 435. That’s what it takes to train up for a marathon.

So, this was week 0. I have not registered for the marathon yet; I want and need to get a few more miles on these feet of mine before I lay out the cold, hard cash. I did 15+ miles this week, over the week and with 5 runs. It’s a start – nothing broke.

My little bi-phasic sleep experiment drew out of a need to be in the office a whole lot. I was left with the choice of getting maybe 4 hours of sleep a night, or breaking it up into chunks. So, I went with chunks.

For four weeks, I did sleep 3 hours, twice a day. I generally went to sleep around 2200 or 2300 — 10 or 11 pm — for the whopping 3 hours. On good days, I’d get up and run, on bad days I’d just get up. Shower, shave, and on to work. Some days, there would be food on my desk, waiting for me, and on other days, I’d tough it out until 6 or 7 AM when I’d sneak out for some breakfast.

I’d finish around 10 or 11 AM, on most days, and go back to sleep until after lunch. No, no lunch for me. I’d be sleeping. I’d make it back to the office sometime between 1 and 2 pm. Most days I’d sneak off to get some before the close-out meetings of the day started. By 9, maybe 10 pm, my day was over and I was heading back to sleep again.

Does it sound like all I did was sleep and work, and sometimes run? Well, that’s a pretty fair description of my 4 weeks. Did it kill me? No. Could I do this forever? Yes. Does it take a lot of attention to pull this off? Yes. Could I have done this by myself? No.

Would I ever do this again? Yes — but only if I was back in a situation like this. Being awake all day and being awake all night just isn’t… normal. I did get a lot of work done, it did have the effect I wanted, but to a “T” everyone thought it so abnormal as to be troublesome. Some worried about my health, others worried if I was eating enough. Thankfully, no one seemed to think that my work was slipping.

For me, it was all about the 9 hours. I’d wake up knowing I just needed to make it 9 hours and I’d go to sleep and reset. If I could make it to then, I’d be good.

There were a half dozen or dozen days when I did not make it to sleep during the day until well into the afternoon. There were at least two days where things were so busy that I did not get to sleep during the day. Being late was one thing; missing sleep was something entirely different. Being late was generally OK, but missing sleep left me trying to make it up over the next one or two sleeps — 4.5 hours vs. 3. Which worked.

I could do this, long haul. I’d take care and attention and dedication to the hours, the missed meals, the need to fit running into all this. But it can be done. It’s very regimented, but very possible. And very possible in a military environment, where there are people working 24 hours a day, every day.

I have no idea if this would translate to the regular world, to a regular job. I guess if your boss would be OK with you just sleeping all the time. I had the two windows every day — early night, and late morning / lunch — when I could sneak away to sleep like this; I don’t know how many others have windows like that.

So, today I sleep some some and tonight I go back to nights. But maybe a run first, since my foot has felt rock solid for a couple of days.

Figured it out yet?

That is, of course, me and Frank Shorter. Frank Shorter (book), winner of the gold medal in the marathon at the Munich ’72 Olympics (YouTube). And silver medal winner in the same event in ’76. And winner of just about everything else. Frank Shorter, arguably the American voice of marathon running.

I say arguably, because there’s this other American runner, Bart Yasso, who could also be described as the American voice of marathon running.

That’s Frank and me and Bart Yasso (blog, book, Twitter, Yasso 800′s).

Wow. Just wow.

These two superstars came to Iraq with the groups, The Warriors Tour (Facebook, YouTube, Twitter), which was sponsored by Under Armour.

Oh, and with them were others — like Sandy Magnus. (Twitter). Did I mention that she was amazingly nice? Even gave me a signed photo to take to my daughter — girls need to go to space (she was there 4 and a half months).

Sadly, we did not get to race. The crew brought with them everything necessary to have a fully sanctioned race, just like in the US. Only weather shut us down.

I thought it looked OK. But what the hell do I know?

Does make for some pretty photos, though. Here are some of the war / peace machines.

I told Frank that I took to running because of my PTSD. He said he took to running because of the stress of Yale. Oh, and he said that life has been grand because his running has not defined him — when he runs, he runs, but the rest of the time he has a life.

Oh, and I love that everyone was blogging, posting to YouTube, active on Twitter, etc. Very well covered events.

I hope I hear from Frank. I was to ask him about ’74 an Japan. And Bart? Egads, he has me wanting to go run, and run long again. He’s a dangerous man!

Cab bomb sucks. They take suck to a whole new level. Their sucking goes to 11.

I hate them because they are so full of violence. The news from yesterday was of 6 killed and 67 injured. I don’t remember what the killed / wounded numbers were from the other day, but I am sure it was high when combined with the suicide vests (yes, with an “S”) that also were used in Ninewa, the province in which Mosul is the center. They destroy people. Not just kill then, but destroy people. The bombs don’t care what’s there, they destroy it all — homes, schools, kids, shops, cars, memories. They are rage, in the worst public way.

And they also represent profound frustration. I am so fed up with things, I need to lash out. Like a 6 year old, who can’t find words for the firestorm of emotions inside. I see no answer, things aren’t going my way, I’m going to go slam the door / fill a truck with explosives and set it off in a neighborhood.

Because really, who responds to a VBIED by giving in? When would a society, a people, a government decide that, after a car bomb, the answer is to abandon their society, their ways, their values and their dreams, in order to make the changes wanted by the guy on the detonator. Didn’t happen when it was the Red Army Faction, and it’s not happening now.

Put down your rifles, put down your det chord. Pick up your ballot, your books, your newspaper, and pull your kids in closer. All this is, of course, my Judeo-Christin view of things, that solutions can come within and through progressive change; what makes sense to me won’t make sense to the VBIED makers. However, I just want them to end.

OK, that’s not entirely true. But my sleep has changed.

When I got back from Hawaii, my work changed. Suddenly, I was on nights, learning what my day counterpart was doing so that with time I could do both — as he had been doing. I was easing into changing jobs and taking over his.

Well, he definitely does not sleep. Long, long hours, often being in the office until after midnight and coming back in at 4 or 5.

I don’t know about you, but I only do so well for so long under those conditions. So, I broke the mold.

I wanted and needed to come into the office by 3 am. There’s some key work that is done before the start of the regular work day, work I think is important. But the work day really doesn’t end until 10 pm / 2200 on a regular basis, and yes, sometimes as late as midnight when things are crazy. That leaves little time — and the problem.

So, I’ve stopped sleeping and gone to napping. I start my day around 1 am, when I wake up and dress and now try to go run on most days. I shower and shave and stuff, and could be ready to go by 0200 but often, like right now, sneak in an hour or less of me time to read emails, etc. By 0230 or 0300, I am in the office.

Some nights, there’s food waiting for me. People think I am working strange hours, and some are looking out for me / worrying. I might eat around 0300. Before 5, my boss shows up. By 7 or so, I usually have had some breakfast — an actual meal which, on a good day, I sneak out to get (to go, of course). By 1000 or as late as about 12, I am back in my room, asleep.

Going to sleep means opening Apimac Timer for OS X. I tell it to play Girl Talk’s Feed the Animals in 3 hours and 15 minutes, and I rack out. Ideally, I start that by 1000. When I wake, I get up and head back in. I often have a next hard time / event at 1430, so I can catch up and then press on.

Some but not all nights, I sneak out to get some dinner to go. Not always — I never did get to eating last night. I have a 9 pm / 2100 meeting, and then after that, it’s a matter of closing up shop, making sure subordinate leaders are straight and that projects are underway, and I head back to the room. On a good night, by 10 pm / 2200, I am starting the countdown and going to sleep.

Does this really sound nuts? Not the whole “I only work” aspect — there are jobs in the Army for which one all in, and this is one of those ones. But two naps, of 3 hours each? Why would I do this?\

Well, there’s a couple of reasons. First, I already fall asleep in a blink. Like, insanely fast. Two, I know that I sleep in 90 minute intervals — my sleep cycle is 90 minutes, so 3 hours is 2 full cycles on a regular sleep night. Only getting 3 hours every once in a while would be better for me that only getting 4 hours every one in a while.

But, I had read this article a loooong time ago, and the idea of doing this has been in my head ever since. My job isn’t one wherein I can sleep every 4 or 6 hours, but right now, every 12 works. And I thought about a powernap – biphasic / siesta approach versus actual polyphasic, and that wasn’t going to work because I was after a little sleep mid night and a little sleep mid day. And I wasn’t trying to go extreme — I just needed to break my sleep up into different chunks.

So, i shifted to two naps a day, three hours each. And the soldiers have started to refer to me as a vampire – which royally sucks, because I am so much more of a zombie fan than a vampire fan.

What’s it like? Odd. Really, my work has me on the go all the time, so it’s strange to have that actually mean all day and all night. When I wake up, I still have problems identifying if it’s mid night or mid day. I can now fall asleep really, really fast — i.e. within a minute or two most of the time. And yes, I still tend to wake up just ahead of my alarm, as I set it for 3:15 and sleep 3 hours.

I need to do a better job with the whole eating thing, esp. now that I am back to running, too. People ask how I do this, and I tell them that I am surviving on the blood of kittens — which is about as good of an explanation as anything. Loooong days like this burns more energy, as does the running. So, really — kitten blood just wouldn’t really cut it, if you thought abut it. And I’ll be honest — I notice less that I’ve skipped a meal than I might otherwise, and I am unsure why this is.

I’ll probably write about this some more. If you have questions, ask — I’ll do my best to answer them, though I am kind of busy these days and long answers take time. I’ll probably also talk about this on the podcast which, as you might have guessed, has dropped off in frequency — down, but not out.

This was the view of my world, an hour before the start of 30 June. Dark, quite, not much moon. Alone. Many people, I suspect, fear darkness because of the great unknown. I have come to embrace it, for all the potential it holds. It’s fitting, then, that this was my image heading into 30 June.

In 2003, I spent the dark hours listening, watching. If I found you, I probably tried to kill you. Depending on how you view things, I was probably either a great guy, or the harbinger of death. I usually vote for the former.

But like then, I have been quietly waiting for the arrival of 30 June, waiting through the nights, listening, looking. Waiting, since the US and Iraq signed the security agreement which said that US forces would be out of the cities, villages, and localities by 30 June. Or maybe on 30 June. Whatever.

Out of the cities. It such a simple thing, that is really so very complicated.

The US, I fear, is very worried about not just security in Iraq, but all of the folks and groups here who really, really, really hate America. In the grand scheme of things, that’s probably less than 1 billionth of the total population of Iraq, but when you line them up, shoulder to shoulder, or AK47 to AK47, car bomb to car bomb, it’s a bunch of folks. And US forces have been in the cities, because that’s where they are, and they’ve been in the cities because that’s where we have been.

Some, but not all, of those same people also hate 1. the government of Iraq, 2. the Iraqi military, 3. the Iraqi police, 4. other Iraqis, and / or 5. something else about the Iraq of today. If the US were to actually get out of the cities, what would this do to the Iraqis themselves?

Together, these form something of a Jungian struggle — protect ourselves, but protect them, too.

But for the Iraqis, I think this all has been so much simpler. US, get the hell out of the cities, and in due time, get the hell out of Iraq. Love ya, love what you’ve done for us, but it’s time for you to be going. Ready or not, the Iraqis seems committed — socially, politically, and every other way you can think of — to taking care of themselves, their way.

Not long after we got here, we started to throw around the phrase by, with and through. I am unsure how many of us here really understood what our leaders meant when the started to use this phrase, but I think I picked up on it pretty early on. Instead of waking up and deciding what we needed to do that day, we needed to start waking up in the morning and asking the Iraqis what they wanted to do today, and if there was anything they needed us to do to help.

If others didn’t pick up on that back then, they’re seeing it today. Because that is the really of today. There is very, very little that US forces can or even want to do unilaterally — or, entirely on our own.

In four words, Iraq belongs to Iraq.

And I’m just here for the comic relief. I saw something in the paper the other day, saying that in this new era, post 30 June, information was going to be key. Information, and how it’s used in cooperation between the two countries. I firmly believe this — and not just because I’m an information guy. And it’s not just information about what the bad guys are doing — it’s information about repair parts, about new training techniques, about best practices, or ideas for new or unexpected problems. It’s about waking up in the morning, and sharing information about what to do today.

It’s exciting. In many ways, it may seem to observes that I’m still sitting in the dark of the night, watching, listening, taking it all in. Which is fair, I suppose. But this is their deal now, completely. If I can help, I will, If they need me, I hope they’ll ask. I will work as hard as if I was about to send my own soldiers out into harms way, because in many ways that has not changed — it’s just that the first guy going in the door is probably going to be an Iraqi, not an American. So be it, and good for them. I hope we help, not hinder. Iraq stands on the brink of such amazing potential, I hope they are able to realize all that they can be.

So, thanks man. You rule.

Post-Sandstorm

Ok, enough of the drama. Yes, I’m back in Iraq. No, I’m really not blogging. There’s a reason.

I changed jobs. And my life was turned upside down.

Coming back to Iraq from Hawaii — I kid you not — took 7 days. 6 x 24 hours, and 1 x 20 hour days of nonstop movement, from when the wife and kids dropped me at the curb, to when I was in the terminal here. Un-freakin-believable.

Bizarrely, I made it to Kuwait in less than 24 hours. Poof, just like that — HI to Los Angeles, to Atlanta (and 12 hours at the USO), then to Shannon, Ireland to refuel and on to Kuwait.

And then, I settled into the oven. It was 120+, and windy. My skin could possibly have cooked like bacon and come off. I tried my best to keep to a reverse cycle of sleep — sleep all day, party all night. In actually, we were on 12 hour shifts, where every 12 hours we had an opportunity to move to a flight if there was one. A couple of time, we didn’t even try. Many, many times, they were canceled while we were getting ready — maintenance, weather, etc. But all too often, we’d finish a few hours of sleep, only to meet again and be told to be back in a few hours, to wait and here to stand down and come back in a few more hours. Exhausting.

But, I made it. I got it on a Sunday morning, about 6 am. I checked in at the office, to tell them I was “home” and OK. I grabbed some breakfast — the maybe third time I’d done that here — and then I went to sleep. At 8 pm, I was heading in to get ready for a 9 pm / 2100 shift change briefing. Poof, right back to work.

Most days for me now start around 6 pm. Around — I’ll explain in a minute why that is so. I either get up and run, if weather permits, or head to get cleaned up and read email. If I run, it’s all I have time to do, and it can’t take more than an hour, to include shower. If I don’t, I have time usually for one thing — which might be a laundry run, or some tech support thing, or some blog reading, etc. But’s it’s maybe 45 minutes or an hour. By 8 pm, I am heading into the HQ to see the boss and start the day.

I work special projects until maybe 1 am, and read a TON of stuff. By then, I try and hit midnight chow before it closes — which usually means driving to a distant chow hall that stays open until 0130. Dinner is often to go, and often enough for a midnight meal and a 3 am sandwhich or snack. And Diet Pepsi. By 2 or 0230, I am being handed things to read and edit, and that goes until 6. In between all of those, I have more reading and more questions to answer, and some orders to bark at other readers and writers — I am the senior guy at night. By six, the day guy is there and we talk shop / resolve problems until 8, when we tap in to listen to a brief (and about half the time, someone brings me back an omelet and fresh melon to eat during the brief). By 0845, we’re in a meeting with the boss (who I see around 0500 every day) and a few others, and then it’s back for shift change at 9am.

On a good day, I can close out things at walk away by 0930. I’d been as late as 1100 before. My goal is to be here — right here — at 1000 hitting start on my timer. An 8 hour timer. I get 30 minutes to be asleep, and 7.5 hours to actually sleep. That’s it. I fight to keep it at 7.5, because if not, it’s 6 sleep with the same buffer up front. So, 10 Am is my goal every day. And it wakes me up around 6 pm. Or so.

So recreational reading. No blogging. No podcasts, which sucks. Very little blog reading, though I do love seeing what my wife and awesome kids are up to. No Skype yet, I don’t think. Non stop, back to back.

I did run three times last week, 3.5 miles being the longest (and done at midnight, when it was still around 100). Too damn hot, too much sand and dirt right now. And yes, I can and do run in sandstorms, and I can and do get upper respiratory infections from it. Like I have right now. (cough cough).

That’s it. That’s my life. I work, I sleep, I eat a little bit. I live for cookies from my sister, email from family and friends, and sleep — glorious sleep. And I get by on Diet Pepsi, and disciplines sleep. Yes, I could keep this schedule for a year. I’ll keep it until I’m told otherwise — I’ve adapted quickly.

And I would not change back to my old job for a dump truck of money. This is a ball. Hard to believe they’re paying me to read and write and be in charge again.

Is it just me, or do others think that this is truly amazing?

In 1932, my grandmother went to LA to go to the Olympics. Reading her account, it sounds as if that trip took more effort than the American effort to put someone on the moon. But today, in less than 2 days, I can move clear around the world, from an island in the Pacific to the Middle East.

Wow.

We have done a few things.

This past Saturday, we went to the 17th Annual British Car Show, held down in Waikiki near the zoo. The local British car club invites the Hawaiian Mini Motoring Club (of which I am a member), as they view the Mini — even the new ones, made by BMW in England — as being true British cars. Well, who am I to pass on a chance to go to a car show?

Naturally, I put my Germany badge on the front of the car. The kids and I had a great time of it all — from the pre-meet at the mall downtown, to the slow procession through downtown and Waikiki (honking and waving the whole way), to parking in the shade and swapping stories all morning.

And while there were some exotics there, this car below is the one that caught my eye. I could not stop staring. Lovely Austin-Healey — just lovely.

I also loved the wide range of MG’s that were there — quite a few of which were adamantly described as daily drivers (which has to be easier to do here in paradise).

I was surprised, though, to see a fleet of Cobras and even a GT40 roll in as part of this group. I had expected the MG’s and the AH’s, even the Jags and the Land Rovers and the Rolls’, but these ones caught my eye.

I had to go do some reading, to learn that yes, the GT40 was designed and built on UK soil. And the Cobras? Yeah, I’m a dumbass for forgetting that it’s an AC Cobra — which is most definitely British. Nice and loud, too. Great crew of owners, very nice people.

The other thing I’ve been doing while here is running. Well, running and shoe shopping, as I’ve purchased a new pair of running shoes, a new pair of Five Fingers, and now a new pair of combat boots (that feel like running shoes).

How much running? Try 45 miles. I’ve been doing 4 runs a week, using the Hal Higdon running formula (though not adding miles) — short runs on Tuesday & Thursday, medium run on Wednesday, and a long run on the weekend that about equals what I ran during the week. 45 miles seems like a lot, though.

Today, I had a wild hair and I ended up doing 10 miles. I pushed through the fields on a route I had scoped out via Google Earth. I’ve been trying to find a semi-legal way to get from my house, to Schofield Barracks where I will work post-Iraq. There’s a road that drives there, but it’s certainly not running friendly. That leaves the pineapple fields — which are all adorned with NO TRESPASSING signs. Leaving at 6 AM this morning, I moved with people going to work in the fields — all of whom waved and seemed OK with my being there, which is all I needed to keep going.

I had no intention of doing ten miles today, but the sun was low, the clouds blocking the sun very well, and I was on a roll. Here is a Google Earth file from today — I think this might be my new favorite route, though I do worry about the work area in the middle (I think it’s part of the Dharma Initiative).

Why am I running so much on R&R? I have no idea. Running & More Running. It feels great, though. Last week, I was still dealing with jet lag, so running early — between dawn and sunrise — was working out ideally. Now that I am sleeping well, I should — should — lay off the miles some. Maybe. We’ll see; I am very excited about finding this new route, and may need to go back there once more before I turn into a pumpkin.

Saturday we went to a pool party. The families from my unit had a pool party scheduled, and my wife and kids had already made plans to go. Seemed like a good idea for me — who doesn’t like going to the pool? Within about 12 hours of getting home, I was already working on a sun burn.

After the pool, we stopped off on post and saw my Iraq-roommate, on his last day in Hawaii. Small, small world, that we’re both in Hawaii at the some time, when we share a room in Iraq. What did we do? Not much. Sat around, chatted, had a beer, got our geek on over his new stereo set up (and over how cool the iTunes remote is for the iPhone / iTouch).

Saturday night, we went to California Pizza Kitchen (here), just because we could. Their food is the opposite of what we get in Iraq, in addition to being damn good. Surprisingly, we ran into a chaplain from my old unit, from my first stint in Iraq.

After dinner, we stopped off for some shoe shopping. Running shoes, as I clearly have too many miles and too many months on my old shoes (Nike Pegasus). I was torn — shoes built to last, to shoes that are super squishy. The shoe guy told me to expect only about 300 miles from any super squishy pair of running shoes — like the Pegasus ones I just destroyed, via the 400 to 450 miles I ran on them. I was seduced by the squishy – and I bought a pair of Nike Vomero+ 4 that, at size 13, were a full size larger than the Pegasus I’ve been wearing. And thanks, Foot Locker — very nice of you to give me a 20% military discount.

I was really torn about picking shoes. These days, I am running about 30 miles a week. If I keep that up when I get back to Iraq, I’ll get 10 weeks of running out of these new shoes. If I drop to 20 miles a week, I’ll get 15 weeks of running out of them. That’s almost 4 months — and I have another 5 months to go in Iraq, or thereabouts. Logically, I should have either purchased two pair, or gone ahead and purchased less fickle, more rugged shoes that would last longer. But, truth be told, I was totally won over by how squishy they are. We’ll see how it goes.

Saturday night, I was probably asleep before the kids were. I was out like a light — a trend that is still ongoing.

Sunday morning, I woke up early and realized that it was Bay to Breakers day. So, at 0500 — the same moment the race was kicking off in San Francisco — I took off on my own 12 km run, up through the pineapple fields. Torture, for my new shoes. Torture, because they came back soaked and fully saturated in the red, red Hawaiian soil. Good run, though — they are going to be good shoes.

Sunday we went to North Shore with Kathleen and Cam, and then on to Sunset Beach to frolic in the water and lay in the sun. And work on the sun burn some more. There’s no such thing as a bad day on the North Shore, and no such thing as a bad day at Sunset Beach.

Monday, I saw the kids off to school, and then headed out to run some errands. I brought home a list of things to do over R&R, and I headed off to see about three of them — shoes, some love for my Mini, and some love for my MacBook Pro. I struck out on the shoes — they place was closed. For the Mini, I stopped by the dealer to talk about the car not keeping a charge, and set an appointment for Tuesday morning to drop it off. For the laptop, the Apple store was willing (for free, even) to give the machine a full service and cleaning, if I’d leave it for two days. We agreed that it’d make more sense to do that after the year is up; it was very cool of them to offer to do it, and is something far beyond what I had even hoped possible. Monday closed out with Taekwondo.

Tuesday morning, bright and early, I knocked out a 4 mile run. I dropped the car off at the dealership, and they gave me a ride back to the house. After that, I didn’t really do much — ran a couple of errands, upgraded the other Mac to 10.5.7, installed another external HD for Time Machine, etc. Puttered. Tuesday night, we hit Cold Stone Creamery for some quality family time.

Wednesday, I did a 7.1 mile run in the morning — a hair under 12 km — and then I cooled off on the lanai. It is so awesome to: 1) run, and not be rushed afterward (to get cleaned up, to get to work, etc) 2) have such a nice place for cooling off. Wednesday was my 24Hour photo day, and I happened to be on the lanai when the prescribed hour arrived:

Flowers in the morning

I’ve been a part of this web-effort for a few months now. Pam and I went to high school together, so it’s not quite six degrees of Kevin Bacon. At the prescribed hour (based on GMT, no less), everyone takes a photo and shares their thoughts. Photos in Iraq are probably a lot less exciting than ones I can take here. The next scheduled date is the 30th; I’ll probably be finished a long run through the countryside when the prescribed hour arrives.

After the run and the cooling off, we rotated cars. The Volvo went in for AC work, and we picked up the Mini (whose work was all done under warranty, thanks to the awesomeness of Mini of Hawaii and their super service folks).

At noon, I went for another run. This is very unlike me, to do two runs in one day. I am a very regimented runner — Tuesday and Thursday are short runs, Wednesday is a medium run, and one long run on the weekend. Two runs in one day? Yep — something special. I ran at noon — when it was far warmer than I prefer for running — to match the running my cousin and her family were doing in support of the Concord Hospital Rock ‘N Race fundraiser. I was just tired from the 7.1 mile run that morning, and just running up into the hills and pineapple fields; my cousin was pushing twins in a stroller.

At some point along the day, I broke out the old PC and fired it up – I need to harvest a hard drive from it (IDE, actually) for a project I am doing in Iraq. While I have it running, though, I am rolling it back to Windows XP from Vista, which I just don’t like. The day closed out with more Taekwondo and, for the first time, I managed to stay up past 9 pm.

I also have been slowly sneaking time in with a new book. I finished A Million Little Pieces on the flights over here, and am now (finally!) reading Three Cups of Tea.

– I picked up A Million Little Pieces from a stack in Iraq. No, I would not buy it. I had a good laugh when the whole scandal broke over at The Smoking Gun; I loved that Oprah so loved the message of the book, but was so hurt to learn it was fiction. And her love it the book got so many people to read it, too. I try and alternate between books I want to read, and books I should read; this fell into the latter case, mainly because I often feel out of touch with American culture. Oh, and the book isn’t that good. Good message, I just did not care for the style of writing, or the characters for that matter.

– my wonderful sister has been after me to read Three Cups of Tea. It just took this long to get to it. And yes, it is good. Very good. I should have read it sooner.

This morning, I did not get up at run, having run twice yesterday. Kristin and I took the kids to school, as today was their curriculum day, which featured a bunch of exhibits in the library and a chance for me to meet Z’s teacher. Afterward, K and I puttered around the house some until the Volvo folks called, and we headed that way to get her car. First stop, though, was Hank’s Haute Dogs for lunch (they were insanely good).

After that, headed back over to Tropic Blends, to see about shoes. Not just any shoes — Vibram Five Fingers shoes, and in particular the KSO model. Totally cool guys, and they even throw in a pretty awesome military discount. They seemed to think that it was pretty sweet that I am going to run in these. Yes, I really did just say that — I intend to run in these. I’ll give them a test run on Tuesday, a short run day, to see how well they work. The shoes are AWESOME — I really, really, really hope this works out.

And since then, well, I’ve played a little Quake 4 and done some blogging. Supervised some homework, too, making a certain someone rewrite about half of it because it was messy enough that I could not read it.

What else to do on R&R? We’re going to see the new Terminator movie (trailer), for sure. There’s a car show this weekend — Tess Turbo is entered, and the kids and I will hang out at the show while the wife is at a quilting event. And I might drink a couple of beers somewhere along the way, too.

Oh, and this might have the most links of anything I have ever posted.

So, flying from Iraq to Hawaii was a bit of an adventure for me, for among other things, I was flying commercial airlines for 2/5 of the trip, and flying in uniform (which we never did on commercial airlines in Europe).

The entire way home, I felt like I was being treated like a rock star. Which, I’ll be honest, made me a bit uncomfortable. I am so very not-used to that. I am a staff guy, a solver a problems — not some hardened killer. So, the rock star treatment was a bit humbling — why would anyone treat me like this?

When we got to Atlanta, we left behind out chartered flight and entered commercial, domestic flight channels. I flew Delta from Atlanta to LA, and they treated us very well, but I think I need to tell you about flying American, for two reasons:

1. A ton of military personnel on R&R transit Atlanta. It is one of two main places where folks on R&R transit, before being injected into domestic commercial flights. The airlines there see us all the time, and yes, they do treat us all very well. Not so, in LA.

2. Holy cow, the treatment in LA was incredible.

My bags were checked all the way through to HI. So, when I landed in LA, I just needed to find an American counter in order to get a new boarding pass. I made by way out of security and to the American counters, but before I had a chance to get a line, I was accosted by an American employee, asking me where I was headed. She came out of nowhere, swooping down on me like a falcon, but with nothing but smiles and happiness. She looked at the counters there, and the long lines, and told me that this wouldn’t do; I needed to go down the terminal, to the red ropes, and see the American staff there. We do this for all the soldiers, she says.

And that staff, I was surprised to see, was the Business Class staff. Who was already helping two other R&R soldiers. No waiting, no lines. “I see that they have you in a middle seat. We know that they ticket you guys so late. Where would you like to sit?” the lady asked me. “A window seat would be nice,” I replied. “Is the flight full?” I asked. “Oh, yes. Very full.”

Great. Someone else is moving to the middle seat, and I am moving to a window. Seriously?

I head over to the entrance to the security checkpoint — a staircase headed upstairs, where the lines for TSA wrap all over the place. There were three others — two soldiers and one Army civilian — just arriving at the ticketing place, but I intercept them and direct them to Business Class. I get to the stairs, and the two controlling access in stop me — the line is kind of long, so I should go over there, to where 1st Class checks in. Where they’d already sent the two guys in front of me, where I tell the three behind me to go, too.

Once there, the TSA lady asks us if we’re wearing standard issue boots, or steel toed boots. Standard, we say. “Just leave them on” she says. How can I argue with that?

I find my gate, and then wander around some, looking for a semi-healthy snack. Until I hear my name called over the PA, and I report to the gate as instructed. “Just need to issue you a new boarding pass,” she says. Yes, First Class. And she pointed me in the direction of the Admiral’s Lounge (or whatever it’s called), so I could get a snack and some cold juice.

My flight to Honolulu had just two R&R soldiers on it, and we were both in First Class. And waited on, hand and foot. I was asleep when the came to ask about meals, so they saved me one of the salmon meals. My ice cream sundae seemed rather large, compared to the others. I was never without a full class, or a warm towel for my hands — part of that is, I’m sure, flying First Class, but part of it was being under the watchful eye of the two stewardesses for First Class.

In Honolulu, I did not wait for my bag – they brought it out separately. The other soldier had just his carry-on bag.

So, yeah. Rock star. I can’t see this being systematic treatment of soldiers and / or folks on R&R as if they are rock stars. I think it’s treatment at a number of levels, from individuals just being nice, to someone putting something into the computer (which I am convinced is what got me the first class upgrade). Top to bottom, it was fantastic treatment.

Thank you, airlines. Thank you, other passengers. Thank you, for making me feel appreciated and loved. It was pretty cool.

You can download it here: The Arrival at the House

Northern Iraq, if you’ve not been following the news, is an interesting place to live these days. 3 of the 7 provinces up here — Ninewa, Salah ad Din, and Diyala — have new provincial governments. New Governors, new Provincial Councils, etc. They also have some new capabilities, thanks to the implementation of the Provincial Powers Law that went into effect with these new governments, maybe most important of which is that the Iraqi Police units in these provinces now answer to the province and the provincial leadership, not the Iraqi Security Forces (i.e. Army, national police, etc).

Why only three? Well, the three provinces that comprise the bulk of the Kurdish Regional Government are set to hold their elections sometime this summer, July I suspect. Why later, and now when the rest of the country held the provincial elections? Ask me over a beer sometime — it’s not such a simple question.

And the seventh? Well, that’d be Al Tamim, aka Kirkuk Province. To be honest, I’m not even willing to make a guess as to when they’ll have provincial elections — Iraq needs to get past the UNAMI and Article 23 issues before Kirkuk will hold elections. If Kurdish elections need a back porch and a cold beer to explain, Kirkuk and Article 23 and all that jazz needs dinner — probably fajitas.

The last thing adding spice to all this, is the upcoming “out of the cities” date. The security agreement between Iraq and the US states that combat forces will be out of the cities and towns by the end of June. And that’s coming up here, pretty quick; that’s coming up, whether the conditions call for it or not. Should be interesting.

Quiet, but interesting.

Tired, and a bit hungry, I tapped it. She and I were on Skype, and I ended up on chat with the guys running the server. Not a WordPress issue, after all, but a change in the settings on the server itself (mod_security was somehow activated). Once again, my powers of Boolean saved the day. Exhausted, I crawled into bed.

I got up yesterday, ran just over 4 miles, and skipped breakfast (and told everyone to avoid getting between me and lunch, just to be on the safe side). I made it through the work day decent enough, and I made it to dinner and got home in time to try and blog for the 24h World project (see below). Low and behold, my WordPress and my blog were acting up — I had lost data (Earth Day post was gone), and I could not add some (but not all) new types of posts. 1st Tech Support guy via chat said it was not the same thing, but my troubleshooting indicated it really, really was the same thing. Half an hour later, #2 tech support guy found that yes, it was the same thing. Great. All seems right in the world. I posted a couple of entries, and crawled into bed.

I get up this morning, and did not run. I fired up my page, to make sure things were still ok. Um, no. The two new entries are gone, but I got back the Earth Day post that had vanished yesterday. Great – FML. I’m hammering out this post, hoping it’ll take — and am saving it to a text file, in case it doesn’t. Ah, the joys of technology. Suddenly, pen to paper has a new appeal.

[UPDATE: Well, it posts. And I lost the Earth Day post, but got back the two posts from last night. Odd.]

These battered feet of mine

5 days, 4 runs, 30 miles. My soles are like alligator skin. I managed to get a blister on the arch of my foot. My pi?ce de r?sistance is a blister on a blister, on a blister that has now popped.

But these aren’t complaints; this is my reality. I’m a runner, and these things won’t stop me.