Art La Flamme

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The shoes, they’re just a little tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, I want to see Oahu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In about 48 hours, I went from my living room on Oahu, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, to sitting at a picnic table in Kuwait City, just inland from the northern tip of the Persian Gulf.

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.

Priorities -- Wife, then beer

65 hours and 13 time zones later, I have completed the secret mission. I made it to Hawai’i and surprised my family by ringing the doorbell late on a Friday night.

So, if you need me, I’ll be at home. Yes, I’ll blog more about this later — sneaking out of Iraq and to your house is a pretty neat trick, I think.

The kids and I made one last Mini adventure today: Ka’ena Point Satellite Tracking Station.

Me, at the far point.

If you remember, about a month ago the kids and I went to ride bikes at Ka’ena Point State Park and had an awesome time. When we were doing that, I noticed some odd structures up on the ridge above the point itself — one of which looked like a giant golf ball.

Look for the golf ball.

Today, we went to that golf ball, and to pretty much all of the other stuff up there. A guy I know works up there, and offered to show us around.

The shimmering Pacific.

Nice drive. I think it’s probably less than 2000 feet climb, on a government maintained road (meaning, not so good). The drive was pleasant, but wow, from up there the view is stunning.

The drive up.

I uploaded some of what I took, here. I also made a Google Earth file, with embedded photos (here). The ocean was smooth and silky, and the clouds were breathtaking.

More of the ocean.

And the wild pigs? Cute.

Took the trash out just now. Came back in to get the camera.

Off from work, I headed out for a short run today. After loading my iPod and Garmin, I opted at the last minute to grab a camera as I headed out the door.

And I’m glad I did. I ended up taking close to a hundred photos over the 50 or so minutes it took to run the 5.25 miles.

Photos are on Flickr, here — only a couple of them are restricted to family / friends. I also fired up Google Earth and made a file about the run — and embedded links to some of the photos. That file is here.

In actuality, I like the Google Earth file better. I think it’s a neat, neat way to show photos and tell a story. For me, I run with my Garmin Forerunner 305, and then load the record of the run into my Mac. The Garmin software gets the data from the GPS, but then I use Trail Runner to convert it quickly to the Google Earth format. (Trail Runner is nice, but the repeated requests to donate ($35!) is annoying). After I’ve uploaded the photos to Flickr, I then go back into Google Earth and manually add in icons for the photos. In the comments section for each icon, I add <> and between those img src=”", with the URL for the actual image (not the page) from Flickr where I have the photos. Works like a charm.

The run was just a couple of minutes short of the length of the American Edit album I was listening to. Perfect timing. American Edit — fantastic album. I’ve got the 2008 version loaded these days (torrent), and I told iTunes to play it as a gapless album, which works ideally.

When I run, I really benefit form music with some energy. Lately, it’s been Feed the Animals by Girl Talk — which is awesome, but entirely not appropriate for kids. It, too, is best listened to in a gapless form, which you can get by downloading the whole album as a single track. I ran across Girl Talk when I saw the movie Good Copy Bad Copy, but it’s really in a style similar to stuff I already like — Go Home Productions, DJ Riko, Miss Frenchie, McSleazy, etc.

For a run that lasts an hour, I can deal with music. I’m not sure about you, but at some point, music isn’t enough. I think this is one of the reasons why I favor 6 or 7 mile runs — after that, I need something more. I need audio books after that. And that means longer runs more often, to get through the book — like two or three a week. And I’m not ready to go back to that level of running. I loved the time in Germany when was running the K?nigstuhl all the time. That was awesome. But you need something special to do that, that often. If I can find a way to run west, across the Kunia Highway, I could go back to that.

Without music, my mind wanders. Shoot, with music my mind wanders. Today I was listening to music and working through the hardware and software configuration options for a touch-screen music server for Iraq, while comparing a Windows solution to a Unix solution. Not planned — my mind just wandered there. Later I caught myself debating the merits of a strong court system in Iraq, vs. autonomy for the Kurds. I wonder what I could get accomplished if I could run and take notes / make sketches.

Two last comments about the run today.

1. There is nothing flat on this island. It was always up or down. Which can be great, and which can suck. Sometimes, at the same time.

2. This place is glorious. I could retire here, and spend every day watching just the clouds.

I’ll run when in Iraq — of that I have no doubt. I really, really doubt the scenery will compare.

K and the kids and I headed off this AM for coffee with the Hawaii Mini Motoring Club. I’d been in touch with some of the gang online, so it was a chance to say hello and put faces to names, and to ask a ton of questions.

Today was, apparently, the smallest gathering in known history. We counted maybe 15 or 18 Minis. Last month, they did a drive across the island — 51 Minis.

While there, a few of the folks said, “Oh, you should go drive up to Tantalus. It’s really pretty.”

So we did.

K fired up the GPS while I drove, and plugged in Honolulu and then Round Top Road. That worked. The area was described as Tantalus, but they were specific — the road is actually Round Top Road. It goes up through a residential area, and then into Puu Ualakaa State Wayside Park (here).

And it is beautiful. The drive is on a mediocre road, but it gets up into thick foliage — very jungle-like, the kids told us. And the view from where we had lunch was wonderful.

That’s Diamond Head across the way, and then the city of Waikiki below.

I make a Google Earth file (here). The orange route is the one we took to get there. It leads across Oahu and up to the park and where we had lunch. The purple route is the rest of the drive — what we took to come back down off of the mountain.

Nice drive to get there. Great view. Great picnic areas. Good bathrooms, too. Easy to get to. We packed our lunch for the trip, but hey, I’d go there just to eat a sandwich from Subway. This is worth visiting, and worth taking visitors to.

The kids and I drove up to the North Shore, to go to Ka’ena Point State Park for a bike ride. I had crazy hopes that we’d actually ride all the way out to the point there, but we didn’t even come close.

Knowing that the “road” from the south had washed out some years ago (great description of that route, here), I figured / hoped we’d do okay on the dirt road on the north side.

And by road, I mean something that looks like this:

There’s always been a road around the whole island, it’s just that this one was pretty much abandoned in the 40′s when private companies stopped maintaining it and the new State of Hawai’i wasn’t ready to take on its upkeep. Now, it’s left as a nature preserve — which is very cool.

There’s now about a 6 or 8 mile stretch, all the way out to the point, that’s just a park. Vehicles are permitted, but really, you do need a truck since the road isn’t much of a road. But, it is idea for bike riding. Not so much for single speed bikes, like my daughter rides, but more for mountain bikes.

Some folks were fishing, some were just out for a drive. We passed one couple hiking to the point, and another guy out for a run (he runs the length and back, he said). Lots of trucks — big trucks, dirty trucks, trucks that look like they get used.

The surf looked pretty strong. Online I’ve seen that it’s surfed less, but folks report big waves through the area. I’d rather not surf there — the lava shoreline would be a mean thing to hit.

On the way out, we ran into a park ranger. She told me to go to this website, because it has details of all of the hiking on the island. And I gotta say — cooooool website!

If you’re interested, I made a Google Earth file, here. Also, there are more photos of the trip on Flickr, here.

PS — After Iraq, I’m doing a LOST tour of Oahu, which will include returning to Dillingham Airfield.

Today looks to be a bad day. Horrible weather.

“Mostly sunny with isolated showers until mid morning… then partly sunny with scattered showers in the late morning and afternoon. Haze through the day. Highs 80 to 85. Light winds becoming south around 10 mph in the late morning and afternoon. Chance of rain 50 percent.”

I think we’ll go to the beach anyway. Just because we can.