They say the difference between a dream and a goal is a plan. The appropriate edit should be “the difference between a dream and a goal is an executable plan.” Twelve months ago, the goal was set. The plan was in place. The next step was to execute the plan. Along the way, I learned a lot about running, a lot about myself, and I finished the Chicago marathon before they started sweeping the streets.

Since sixth grade the goal was to run a marathon. Being naïve and invincible, it wasn’t a matter of if but when.  Plans were put into place, but there wasn’t a sense of urgency and sixth graders are easily distracted. So are seventh graders. And forty-year olds. It was more of a dream.

I was in southern New Hampshire in sixth grade which happened in the early 80s. The very early ‘80s. Almost the 70s. Southern New Hampshire is a Boston suburb, and everything Boston-related was magnetic to sixth grade boys. The Red Sox. The Bruins. Larry Bird and the Celtics. Hating the Lakers. Hating the Yankees. And Bill Rogers and the Boston Marathon. Nike, New Balance and the running craze were taking hold. I knew I wanted to run the Boston Marathon and conquer Heartbreak Hill. So I started running. I worked up to 6 miles, then made a jump to 9 miles. That 3 mile jump, combined with walking around school in super heavy, steel-toed hiking boots gave me incredibly painful shin splints. I quit running.  I played sports that required running to train, and I was always among the fastest on my team in distance runs, but I didn’t stick with running for the sake of running.

The dream of running a marathon remained buried somewhere in my mind. Jealousy struck in college when I heard of a rugby teammate who ran a marathon. The dude was in worse shape than I was, evidence by his large beer gut (but countered by his very large, tree-trunk shaped legs which also made him deceptively fast on the field). Later in law school the same thing happened when I learned of other friends training for and completing marathons. Truth was, those friends WERE in better shape. I worked hard. At work. Physically, I was soft.

Finally after law school I dusted off my dream, put a plan around it, and trained for a marathon. Four times. Four times the plan was devised. Four times something jumped in front of the plan. Three times it was an injury, the result of competing with a younger version of the older runner. What would make it different this time?

The difference was a strong commitment to finish. To finally do this. 2013 presented significant professional and financial challenges and a minor physical challenge with an annoying calf and Achilles problem. But the goal of running the marathon remained.

You know what they say . . . the fifth time’s the charm!

At forty-six years old on October 13, 2013, I completed my first marathon in Chicago with my brother and in honor of my wife, a breast cancer survivor and MS fighter (raising over $1,500 for Susan G. Komen along the way). My youngest son and my parents joined me in Chicago to cheer us on. My daughter was sick, so she and my wife cheered via text message and phone calls.

It was an incredible experience on a beautiful sunny day in Chicago. My brother Chris is ten years younger and has been running triathlons for the last few years. He had a far stronger foundation heading into race day, and the ability to run FAR faster. He wanted to hurry up and be done with it. I made sure he took his time and enjoyed the scenery on his first tour though the city of Chicago.

As recently as the week before the race I had problems with my calf and Achilles, so I should’ve been happy to have finished. And I was. I was also disappointed and somewhat embarrassed by my time. Those leg issues kept me off the road for much of the month of August (when my posts on this site ceased), so the fact I finished was definitely an accomplishment. While people said they were impressed, I wasn’t impressed with the results.

So here we are at the end of the year. I’ve spent my time since the marathon working on my next “before” photo, eating unhealthy foods combined with almost no physical activity. And now it’s time to look ahead at 2014.

Yes, I ran a marathon. Yes, I am proud I accomplished that feat. But that really wasn’t the dream back in 6th grade. Maybe that’s why I feel unfulfilled. The dream was to run the Boston Marathon. Hmm . . . To run Boston means I need to qualify. To qualify as an old man in his forty-sixth year, that means I need to run 26.2 miles in less than 3 hours and 25 minutes. That’s less than 7 minutes 49 seconds a mile.

Bring it!

Hank and I went for an hour long walk last night. It was warm, and he enjoyed it more than I did. Our lives are similar lately. His is all about the walk. Mine seems to be all about the run. When you ask him if he wants to go for a walk, he wags his tail, his heart races, he gets short of breath, and bounces up and down with wide eyes as if to say, "Dude . . . I cannot . . . control this . . . You said . . .  WALK . . . and . . . THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!!!" Lately I feel the same way about running. Florida summers are too hot and I run too far to take him on runs, but walks are perfect.
 
We went again this morning for an hour. It's supposed to be a "day off" on the program, but I'm determined to work out this Achilles thing. The alarm sang at 4am, and I hit snooze. My eyes opened at 4:30, realizing the alarm wouldn't be reminding me again that it's time to awaken. I kissed my wife, forced my feet onto the floor and hobbled down the stairs. My first several steps in the morning are with stiff ankles, since both Achilles are incredibly tight out of bed. I again wondered if I'll run this thing in October pain free, accepting I probably won't.

I did a pre-run yoga routine (thanks to YouTube) and pulled things together before walking upstairs to get Hank. Laying peacefully on the bed, I whispered in his ear, "Want to go for a walk?" and BAM! he went from zero to four legs in half a millisecond. Hank's excitement elicited a giggle from my semi-sleeping wife. I kissed her again on the forehead, then Hank and I were out the door.

It was an uneventful walk. I sped to a jog a few times to test the legs (although I'm not sure using a form of the word "speed" is appropriate to describe what I did this morning). They were tight - as expected. The left shin and the right Achilles were stressed and sore. When I extended my stride the pain in the right Achilles sharpened so I kept strides short. While walking I lengthened my stride to stretch the calves. It provided small relief, but tightness remained. Near the end, I tried something new. A half mile from home, I started lifting my knees up high. Stretching between runs has focused on calves, hips, hamstrings, and groin - but very little on the quads. Amazingly, loosening my hips and quads with the high knees somehow caused the pain and tightness in my right calf / Achilles to disappear. It was a fragile peace, but it was peace. I tried skipping with a high knee, but the extension of the "launch" leg caused sharp pain to return - so I stuck with just raising knees high.

On Saturday when I returned from my 13.1 mile experience on the West Orange Trail, my wife tried to cheer me up by telling me how far I've come, and how much I'm learning about my body. She's amazing. Aside from all she's fought and won, and her incredible looks, she's also incredibly sweet and very smart. That's not sucking up to one of my only readers. These are things I tell her every day. In this case, she's right about how much I've learned about how my body responds. Brett Klika first showed me how the muscles of the lower body are all intertwined with the tennis ball trigger point pressure on the bottom of the foot, calves and butt. But I never thought of a connection between the quadriceps / hips and the calves. Checking the Internet, I'm not finding anything linking the quads and the calves, but I know what I experienced this morning. The lesson this morning is the ENTIRE lower body needs to be kept loose because it's all linked together.

This week will continue with an aggressively conservative approach. That means something new every day throughout the day, but keeping off the road until this Achilles / calf issue is solved. I draw strength from a memory of my mom's friend in Alaska who ran the New York City Marathon after training exclusively on a Stairmaster in the early '90's. I remember meeting her at the gym while visiting my mom and stepfather in Anchorage soon after Christmas just after finishing college. The next time I saw her was from a distance the following November as she ran by the spot where my roommate and I were stationed on First Avenue watching the marathon a half block from our apartment on the Upper East Side. This week, I'll adjust the time spent on my Stairmaster routine to assume 10 minutes per mile for the distance I should be running instead of relying on the Stairmaster to determine the distance. That means rather than run three miles tomorrow on the Stairmaster, I'll run thirty minutes. Stretching will be a constant presence in the day, along with some strength training at the gym and while I'm in my office.

I'll continue getting comfortable being uncomfortable. And the pain I feel over the next couple months will NOT be from quitting. It'll be from fighting through this to get to the end.

Yesterday I ripped July off my desk calendar and wondered, “Where did the month go?” All this talk about working with kids to accomplish great things, and I feel hypocritical. We talk about awareness, living in the moment, using what you accomplish to gain confidence to accomplish more. All that, and I didn’t pay attention to everything happening in July. At the beginning of the month, the long run for marathon training was nine miles, and I was having some trouble with both calves and Achilles. Yesterday, the month of August began with a 13 mile run, but not without pain.

I ran the Orange County side of the West Orange Trail, and convinced myself I’d nail it. After all there are almost no hills and I was running far earlier than the week before, thus avoiding the heat. The run started nicely. It was cool and dark, and the warm up portion going nice and slow. The right Achilles groaned at me, but loosened up around the second mile. There were more runners than bikers at first, but as the sun rose more bikers hit the trail. Around the third mile, my upper right Achilles started tightening again. I continued my Clydesdale pace, plodding through Winter Garden and north along the West Orange Trail. The calf continued tightening at the halfway mark. After stretching it a bit, I started walking back, then running slowly.

At that point, I recalled the story of Pheidippides. It’s his experience following the Battle of Marathon where the Greeks defeated the Persians in 490 BC upon which the marathon race is based. Following the battle, Pheidippides ran the entire distance between Marathon and Athens to announce the victory, at which point he collapsed and died. This is the part that rattled in my head. He died. And he was a trained soldier. I am NOT a trained Greek soldier. We’ve previously deduced I’m not even an athlete. Yet I’m voluntarily running a race the distance of which is based upon the experience of a trained Greek soldier who dies after running it.

I also recalled the story of Achilles. And we all know what happened to him when he injured the tendon joining the heel to the calf. For those who don’t know, he died too. Granted, he died from a poisoned arrow. But he died.

I never really feared for my life. Nor do I think I'm seriously risking my life by running this thing. After the halfway point yesterday, I did contemplate the challenges over the next two months. First and foremost, to run a marathon I must get my Achilles healed (pun intended). Four weeks ago both calves / Achilles tendons caused problems. The trouble alternated back and forth between right and left at different times – so correcting this is possible. The biggest challenge is healing while continuing to work my body to the point of running 26.2 miles. And I need to run it in less than six hours. That’s when they shut down the course. In the beginning of training, I thought it’d be great to finish in less than four hours. Right now I’ll be happy to finish before everybody packs up to go home. While hobbling back, I did the math. To finish the marathon in under six hours, a runner needs to average under 13:42 per mile. From where I sit right now I’d be happy with that, which is a little bothersome.

Four times I’ve trained for a marathon. I never completed training because I’ve either pushed myself too hard too early and injured myself, or I gave up because of conflicts on my calendar. I’ve never made it as far as I’ve made it now in training, and I know my body better now than I did then. On the run back, I figured if I keep the pain as tightness and prevent it from turning sharp and stabbing, I can recover.

What could have been done differently over the past couple weeks? There are two differences between this past week and the week before. The first of those weeks, my legs weren’t stressed from running twelve miles. Also the first of those weeks, considerable time was spent stretching and caring for my legs. This past week that didn’t happen – and it should’ve because of the 12-mile run. There was a false sense of progress. After all, I just ran twelve miles. I’m going to do this thing. I’m unstoppable.

When I was younger and more arrogant, I remember watching older men running slowly. I’d think, “They CAN’T be getting anything out of that. Why don’t they push themselves a bit harder?” As I grew older, I appreciated and respected the effort. They were doing something most people weren’t doing, and many weren’t able to do. Now, I am that man running slowly. While running slowly yesterday (and walking), I took great pride doing something many can’t on a sunny trail, training for something bigger than myself.

Yesterday was a beautiful day. It was cooler than last week. And while the run ended with less confidence and bravado than it started, it was still a beautiful day. And tomorrow will be another one.

Three miles in the gym on the Stairmaster. Today I realized it’s not actually a Stairmaster, but a stepping machine built by Lifecycle. My calf felt pretty good today. The one difference is I applied KT tape yesterday. That stuff is AMAZING. I haven’t run with it (other than today’s gym experience), but within 5 minutes of putting it on my calf, the pain in my Achilles disappeared. As a result, I was tempted to hit the road but decided to play it safe and save up for thirteen miles on Saturday. Thirteen miles. Wow.

I started two hours later than I hoped, and realized I’m a hypocrite. I’m preaching to the kids the importance of setting good habits by first realizing what’s important to you. And I’m not practicing what I’m preaching. A few small changes can ave an amazing impact, and I need to make those changes. Writing down goals and plans is INCREDIBLY important. It’s a proven approach. While I’ve been telling that to the kids, I haven’t been practicing it myself.

Overall, the single greatest flaw in the program so far is consistency. I’m putting in the work, but it’s not at the same time which affects the rest of the day. It involves planning things the night before so everything is ready. It involves getting enough sleep. It involves getting the feet on the floor once the alarm goes off, and not THINKING. Just do.

It’s a new month. The second month of the quarter means new resolutions for the month of August. My goal for August is to complete a 16 mile run without stopping. The plan for getting there involves a focus on sleep and set routines. The challenge this month includes dealing with the beginning of school for the kids – which means finishing my runs by 6:30am. That’ll mean once the Wednesday run increases to 10 miles, I’ll need to start somewhere around 4am to be certain I complete it. I should start that time anyway – which means waking up at 3:30am and preparing the night before. Starting tonight, I’ll write down what I accomplished, the goals for the week, and the plan for the next day. Immediately upon waking, I’ll stretch and make coffee, get dressed, and start whatever workout I planned.

Tomorrow is an “off” day on the marathon training program, which means I’ll get up and do yoga. YouTube has been a blessing with several “Yoga for Runners” routines out there that do the trick. It’s more difficult to shut out the world when at home, but that just means more focus.

That’s boring. Consistency is boring. Being a hamster on a wheel in the gym is boring. But getting results is not boring. In order to deliver on my “Wait, wait, watch THIS” approach to life, consistency needs to be at the heart of what happens. That’s true with the marathon, and every other goal. Habits, habits, habits. Get better every day.

Today was brutal. Six miles. Because of my right Achilles, I couldn’t do it on the road so I took it to the gym. The first mile and a half was rough getting the heart rate up, and getting my head into the workout. Even when I was into it, it was tough to get “into it.” That’s when I thought of Newton’s First Law of Motion: “Every body continues in its state of rest, or of uniform motion in a right line, unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed upon it.”

Feeding off yesterday’s thoughts, the force compelling a change – moving from a state of motion toward the goal of running in Chicago to a state of rest – would be that weak voice. And that weak voice was loud this morning. Fortunately, it wasn’t as loud as the STRONG voice telling me to keep running. Because that’s what I do. That’s now who I am.

I'm not a science guy. I’m not a physics guy. In fact I’ve never taken a single physics class. I am a quotes guy, though. And Newton's First Law of Motion is dead on. Paraphrasing that law. I like to say Momentum is Magic. We know when we have it. Things click. The right things happen. Everything works. There is energy. Things are moving. For that reason, our job every morning is to get up and establish momentum. Once we have it we must do everything we can to maintain it. Keep moving because that feeling of things moving - momentum - in a “right line” is an incredible feeling. Everyone also knows the misery of losing momentum. When things stand still. When things AREN’T moving.

Another scientific concept that applies in every day life is Activation Energy. A term from chemistry, activation energy is the minimal amount of energy required to create a chemical reaction. Applied to life, activation energy is what allows you to create the magic of momentum. Shaun Achor in his book The Happiness Advantage applies the concept of activation energy in establishing habits that create an environment of achievement and happiness in his life. Or, as I coach the kids in Orlando, they’re tricks. An example Achor uses includes putting his workout clothes at the end of his bed to ensure when he awakens, his tools are there for him to use without forcing him to think. He also took his guitar out of the closet and placed it in the middle of the floor of his apartment, making it much easier for him to learn how to play guitar. To stop watching television as soon as he arrived home from work, Achor took the batteries out of the remote control and placed both the batteries and the remote control away from the television. Those small steps were tricks making it easier for Achor to establish habits that created an environment of accomplishment.

The battle this morning was an awareness that my mind wasn’t “into it,” and that I needed to keep moving. Keep running. Keep moving. Keep running. Make sure the weak voice wasn’t strong enough to compel change to a state of rest. Unthinkingly, the trick I developed is awareness of times when the weak voice is loud (and those times do come). At that point it's time to awaken the STRONG voice in order to kick the weak voice's ass. Because Momentum is Magic, and Failure is Not an Option. Wait. Another quote . . .

Today was a three mile run. What I learned . . . I have to stop pushing myself. It’s a bad habit. After getting all full of myself for running twelve miles over the weekend, I thought, “This is three miles. Easy peasy. Time for a personal RECORD!” Well . . . that didn't happen.

I also learned I need to start my runs well before the sun comes up, and get enough sleep. Florida summers are brutal if you’re spending time outside on the road. The movie 42 ended around 11:30 last night with my wife and youngest son while my daughter slept on the couch. That voice said, “Spend time with family. This is nice, even if you are going through e-mail on your computer.” I was up at 6am. Applying the 7-hour rule, that isn’t enough sleep for a normal night, not to mention when training for a marathon. The later you take, the hotter it's going to be.

When I’m not running, I work with kids in my spare time. Lately, I’ve been working with a summer program serving disadvantaged kids in downtown Orlando on a goal-setting program called Achieve YOUR Dream! The kids learn how to achieve ANYTHING in the world they want. Within the program, we work on the stories we tell ourselves. We work on the words we use – the stories themselves – and the tone we use to tell them. One of the keys to achievement is being able to control the voice that tells your stories – control WHAT the voice says and HOW the voice says it. Up to this point, we’ve discussed two voices. The STRONG voice tells you to conquer the world, move faster, and that you’re invincible – and it’s done in a firm, convincing fashion. The weak voice tells you to stay in bed, play a few more video games, the workout you’re doing hurts and you should stop, and overall just slow down and relax. The intent is to increase awareness of which voice is speaking to them, and to make sure the STRONG voice kicks the weak voice’s ass every day. To continue to push. To challenge yourself like you’ve never challenged yourself before.

Ironically, it’s my STRONG voice that creates trouble with my training. Counter intuitively, I have to use the STRONG voice to throttle back the intensity of my running. Using the “heart rate strategy” where you keep your heart rate at 180 bpm less your age, I’ve been working hard to keep it at 135 bpm. That voice YELLS at me, “C’MON, you HAVE to be more DISCIPLINED than THIS!!! Slower. You aren’t 30 years old. KEEP IT AT 135 bpm!”

On Saturday’s 12-mile run, I did a decent job of keeping it around 140 bpm for the first half. The second half, it was tough to keep it under 150 bpm because of the heat. It was because of that discipline that I finished twelve miles in really good shape. Hot and sweaty, but limited pain in my calves and Achilles. Tight in the quads, tight in the calves and feet, but overall I was very happy given the problems I’ve been having with my lower legs.

Today was supposed to be 3 easy miles. I salivated, thinking “I just ran twelve miles. This will be AWESOME and EASY! I should NAIL this with an old man PR for 3 miles” (my lifetime PR for 3 miles is at a 6:18 per mile clip). That’s when trouble came back to town. No new old man PR. And my right Achilles is back to being a problem. I needed a third voice to speak up. The Voice of Reason, which is a voice of maturity, needs to temper the enthusiasm of the STRONG voice. The STRONG voice should only come into play when the weak voice starts to talk. My heart rate hovered around 155 bpm for most of the run.

Tomorrow, it’s back to the gym to push my feet up and down on the Stairmaster for six miles. This weekend is thirteen. And time to control the voices a bit better.

Today was a long run, longer than I've ever run. Twelve miles. The West Orange Trail has been the path of choice over the past few weeks for the longer runs. It begins on the border of Orange County and Lake County, and runs east into Orange. It's nice and Florida flat with old time Florida towns, and water fountains along the way. I arrived at 7am, and went the opposite way for a little variety. HOLY HILLS!! Who the hell imported those things? Florida is the largest sandbar in the United States, and is supposed to be FFFFFLLLLLLAAAAAATTTTTT! 

The Lake County trail leads west to Claremont, which is farther than I'll need to run in training. That is if I ever run that direction again. The trail itself - both the Orange County and Lake County versions - is a former railroad. Lake County didn't have any of the amenities on the Orange side. No water fountains. No bathrooms. Just pavement, hills, and spiders the size of your hands lining the trail in their webs. And cattle. Did I mention the hills? I was very thankful I brought my water belt with four of the six bottles filled with water. It added about five pounds, but water in the Florida summer sun is not optional. Did I mention the hills?

Growing up, I spent summers in Iowa. My grandparents lived about a half hour west of Des Moines on 1,800 acres where my grandfather raised cattle (he was a lawyer during the day, and a cowboy at night and on the weekends). I have fond memories of sitting proudly next to my grandfather on the bench seat in his pickup, dust from the gravel road trailing us like a tornado on its side. Whenever someone approached us heading the opposite direction, my grandfather would lift two fingers off the steering wheel. The other driver always responded, lifting two fingers off the steering wheel. Cowboy code. In it together.

On the trail, I do the same. We're in it together. Figure it's best to acknowledge that. On the West Orange / Lake County Trails I've noticed runners acknowledge each other. Bikers, notsomuch.

Exchange Between Runners

Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.

Stranger Runner or Walker: "Mornin'," lifting fingers of left hand, returning the gesture.

Exchange Between Runner and Biker

Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.

Stranger Biker: " . . . . . . . . . " eyes focused on road ahead, whistling by.

Me: "I'm doing ok, thanks for asking."

Of course, this is a general observation. I have many friends and family who are bikers, and they're wonderful, friendly and inspiring people, with interesting and engaging personalities. But the bikers on the West Orange and Lake County Trails are not that. They ride along with their helmets, sunglasses, tight outfits and water bottles with their wheels, alternating pedaling with coasting, and completely self-absorbed. I assumed all of us out there on the trail together were in it together. Apparently not and that's fine. It is what it is. This ain't Iowa. 

Around the 11th mile, there was an exception to my general observation. I approached a biker sitting on a bench in the shade, eating a bar. Two bikers passed me from behind, and one turned around and said, "Man, you still runnin'? When you get to the ocean, you'll have to stop." I responded, "Either that, or take up swimming." The biker sitting down chimed in, "That'll get you in shape." We ARE in it together. Some just choose to acknowledge it while others choose to ignore it.

That's pretty much true in many areas of life, isn't it?

This is a big week in the program. The mid-week long run jumps to six miles and the weekend long run hits twelve miles. The calf experience has been humbling, and this week is spent at the gym instead of on the trail. The initial plan was to show up at the gym twice a day on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday – but work schedules interfere with that level of aggression.

The highlight of last night was yoga class. Following that experience, the calves were very, very loose, even though there wasn’t a focus on the calves. There were positions where calves were hit more than others, but nothing targeting that part of the leg. That says yoga is more important as the second element of this week than even more aerobic work. There was a yoga class this morning. Unfortunately, concrete found its way to my ass and made it so heavy I couldn’t get it out of the bed. Instead, there’s a class at 5:30pm tonight, which will be followed by six miles on the Stairmaster.

Commitment, discipline and sacrifice. All part of training for the marathon. This part of the program is where that all comes into play. I’ve been listening to Eric Thomas lately, using his videos in my Achieve Your Dream! goal setting program for disadvantaged kids in Orlando. In one video, ET says, “Sacrifice is being willing at any time to give up who you are for who you want to be.” That means setting priorities. The other night I did some mental gymnastics while lying in bed, unable to sleep. Training for the marathon takes time away from my family. My wife. My kids. And there’s nothing more important in life than family. It takes time to train. It takes time to recover. It takes time to plan. It takes time away from my family. What do THEY get out of it?

They get a husband and father who is in better shape and, as a result, able to bring more focused energy to the time he spends with them. They also get a husband and father who lives by example, setting goals and doing what it takes to achieve those goals. And they also get a husband and father who takes the run and uses it for a deeper purpose with the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Hopefully all that gives them some satisfaction, and can serve as an influence in their lives as they pursue their dreams.

Running before they awaken minimizes the time my training interferes with my time with them. And I hope they look at what I’m doing, knowing it gives me incredible satisfaction ONLY if this serves as a positive example to them about what commitment, discipline and sacrifice can get them.

Onward.

This week has been a “step-back” week in the Hal Higdon training program. That means the long run is shorter than the normal cycle would dictate. Instead of running eleven miles, this weekend’s long run is seven miles. Since my calves are causing trouble (undoubtedly from pushing too hard in an effort to run a faster per mile pace), the program needed to change a bit. I turned to Facebook for feedback, and received a lot of good advice.

Since next Saturday’s run is twelve miles, I’ll be working at the gym this week – starting with my seven mile run today. I’ll also be stretching like crazy, and using Tiger Balm religiously, my new favorite remedy suggested by a cousin and a friend of my wife. After applying it over the weekend, I was pain free for the first time in weeks.

While at the gym this evening, I continued listening to The Power of Habit, which is coloring the Achieve Your Dream! summer program I’m holding for the older kids at New Image Youth Center in downtown Orlando. The program coaches the kids on how to get anything in the world they want. The lesson today from The Power of Habit is that self-discipline is critical in realizing success, and it’s like a muscle that can be over-trained. Self-discipline is a finite resource, but it can be expanded with the right approach.

So, I’ll be applying as much self-discipline as I possibly can so I can get through this training program without pushing myself too hard, and then getting injured. The thing that stinks about getting older is realizing what you grew up understanding now doesn’t work. Pushing yourself as hard as you can doesn’t necessarily make you stronger. Yes, that stinks. No longer invincible.

Time for bed, then up and at it in the morning.

Today is a rest day. No miles to log. Logging an entry here, though. Legs are tight, especially my right calf. Tomorrow is 7 miles, but I decided to play it safe. I’ll log my miles at the gym on the stair master, and stay at the gym for runs on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. In the meantime, I’ll keep stretching, icing, and using the lacrosse ball to loosen up my legs. I also bought KT Tape, and I’ll use that when I run next Saturday to keep things in line. I also bought Tiger Balm, and that stuff is magic. It’s been on my leg for about 30 minutes now, and the calf is almost like new. My right Achilles is still tight, but much better than before. So, the mission for the week is to stay loose, and keep momentum by going to the gym.

I posted my calf situation on Facebook asking about the KT Tape, and texted my brother back and forth. Everybody had opinions about supplements and approaches. One approach was to accept that I’m old, and wind it down a bit. Playing it safe is the way to go, but I won’t be accepting that I’m old anytime soon. What good would THAT do me? Tonight will be ice, massage and early to bed, and I will take the conservative approach over the weekend. Tomorrow I hit the gym early to grind out seven miles on the stair master then hit the weights.

While frustration sets in on occasion, there has been a lot of improvement. I’m running the entire week. I am not anywhere near as winded as a month ago. And I will be finishing this thing. Adding weight training to the experience will help, too. That should be a natural part of the program.