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.

This morning was three miles. Painfully.

Am I too old to run pain free? After spending most of the past fifteen years on my ass, I’m beginning to wonder. As a kid, running was easy and natural. Today it takes a half mile to stop shuffling like I’m being marched off to prison with bound ankles. Even after that first half mile, there’s pain in the right calf and left hip. Then I think about why I’m training for this marathon and I shut out the pain.

Last night I watched the ESPY awards with my family. It’s an unofficial tradition in our house. Every year, I’m reminded of one of the most amazing speeches ever. I never met Jim Valvano, but Nick Valvano used to work for my dad in the 1990s. Nick is President Emeritus of the Jimmy V Foundation, and has been on the board since its inception. My dad and Nick have fallen out of touch over the years, but I remember playing golf with him and his story of what it’s like to play at the Jimmy V Foundation golf tournament as a hack. With all the celebrities, there are fans lining the fairway and cameras all around, and great fear in the mind of the hack. During the run today, I thought about Nick and how fulfilled he must feel fighting for such a worthy cause, and how much more comfortable he likely is now after so many years hitting golf balls with other people around him. And then my thoughts shifted to Jim on stage less than two months before he died from cancer, encouraging everyone to never give up. Don’t ever give up. What calf pain? What hip pain?

And that brings me to the real inspiration for running the Chicago Marathon. Those that know me know this part of my story. On January 1, 2011, I received a text that would change my life. It was an attempt to reconnect by a former high school classmate, a girl I dated in college.

A year and a half earlier we found each other on LinkedIn after 20 years, communicated via e-mail and a couple conversations on the phone, and I realized we shared parallel experiences. Except for one big difference. She fought and beat breast cancer. As I dealt with challenges in the months following our LinkedIn / e-mail encounter, she served as a source of inspiration and hope. At least I had my health. At least I wasn't facing the very real possibility of an early end to my life.

Then I received the text. We spent hours on the phone. We exchanged hundreds of witty e-mails and text messages. We went out for dinner when I travelled later that month to Connecticut on business. We started dating. I realized how fortunate I was to be with the strongest, most amazing, most beautiful girl the world had ever seen. I learned about the struggle she faced, and how she's come out of it with the same infectious energy she had in high school and college. I discovered a source of inspiration for me and everyone around the world in a small bundle of energy with a contagious smile that changes the world for those who experience it.

We married in September of that year and continue to live every day happily ever after. I wasn't with her during her most challenging days, and can't imagine the pain and fear they caused her, and cause millions of people every day around the world. Her story hasn't ended, and I hope serves as an inspiration to many that life is beautiful and victory is possible despite seemingly insurmountable challenges if you continue to fight.

I work hard every day to get stronger so I can carry her even farther than she's already gone. It's the least I can do for someone who carries me every day in many ways. This little run in October will be my first marathon, an opportunity to raise money and awareness, a tribute to my wife's incredible strength, and an opportunity to kick cancer's ass.

I’d post the link to my fundraising site, but can’t without compromising the anonymous nature of this writing. Instead, I've posted a picture of us on our wedding day and ask that you donate to a cause dedicated to fighting cancer – whether that’s The Jimmy V Foundation or Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Thanks!

A friend invited me to run with him and a group of other fellow runners this Saturday. My run this Saturday is 7 miles, and they’re running 8 at a pace that’s a bit quicker than my comfort zone. I gave it serious thought, and agreed I’d meet him on the other side of town. As I gave it more thought, I realized a couple things. First, because of how tight my lower body still is, I’m not sure I’m ready to push myself outside my comfort zone. Second, thus far running is very personal.

Why is it so personal? I think because my runs are not at a pace where I’m proud. So yes, vanity plays a role. I am proud of my progress. Every run gets a bit better. The pace isn’t blisteringly fast, but it’s improving. But I’m not quite ready to go “prime time.” I’ll get there, but it won’t be happening overnight. So, I was looking forward to getting together with my friend and meeting some new people, but not looking forward to showing off my Clydesdale pace. He called this morning to let me know he needs to be out of town this weekend, so the run won’t happen. That buys me at least another week to find my athletic self. Or at least to shave a couple minutes off my per mile time.

Being Wednesday, today was the mid-week long run. Five miles, and it wasn’t bad. I waited until the end of the day so I could loosen my calf. The strategy worked pretty well. Last week my left calf was tight. This week it’s the right calf. Hopefully soon I’ll just be sailing along without having to worry about either of my calves. Until then, I’m obsessive about loosening the bottoms of my feet with a lacrosse ball which I do while on calls during the day at work. It’s helping.

What passed through my mind tonight? The sunset was beautiful. It was a bit darker on the way back than what I prefer, but that’s my own damn fault. I’m re-listening to The Power of Habit for material for a goal setting class I’m holding for disadvantaged kids in downtown Orlando. I thought about my own experience training for the marathon, and wondered if it’s a habit for me at this point. I’m doing it. I’m sticking to it. But I’m not sure it’s solidified into an actual habit. Writing after a run hasn’t developed into a habit yet either. Sticking to a particular point in the day would help, and then a reward for running, and then logging the experience. I did picture the run itself, and what it’ll be like seeing Chicago again. It’s getting there. In another couple weeks, it’ll be enough a part of the routine that we’ll call it a habit. Another couple long runs will help get it there.

I started this site to log my journey to 26.2 miles in October. I intentionally left it nameless and faceless – although I’ve violated that a bit by sharing the link on my status on Facebook. I assume I’m not unlike many people in the world, busy with the day-to-day, managing the challenges of what it means to be successful (happy marriage, accomplishments at work) with what it means to be a good parent (focused time with the family) with what it means to care for yourself so you can put every ounce of energy into all things that matter. For most of us – me included – that last one has been ignored. Until lately.

Keeping with the anonymous nature of this blog, the image from today’s run is not of me, but of my competitor. My competitor is always stronger than I am, and is either always in front of me, or right behind me. When he’s behind me, I can’t see him. But I know he’s there. When he’s in front of me, he motivates me and I push hard to catch him, but never do. He never sweats. He never looks down. He never struggles. And he pushes me every single day, both on the road and in the office.

Today’s run was 3 miles. Tomorrow’s run will be 5. Thursday will be 3 miles again. And my competitor will show up either right in front of me, or right behind me.

It's all about training for Chicago. And it's about beating breast cancer. Since I forgot to take a picture on my run this morning, you get a photo of a glass representing the best team in the history of professional football (and the venue for the marathon in October), and a couple tidbits representing the cause.

About those tidbits . . . earlier this week, I ordered some bandanas to protect my newly shaved head. Amazon had a few good deals, so I ordered a mixed batch of twelve regular bandanas, a pink camouflage bandana (not sure where I'd need to be for a pink camouflage bandana to help), and of course a bandana of the Mexican flag. Or so I thought.

My mixed batch and the Mexican flag should arrive early next week, according to Amazon shipment tracking. The pink camo bandana arrived yesterday. I opened the package to find I didn't order one pink camo bandana. I ordered twelve. I gave one each to my two youngest kids, and one to my wife. For the rest, I'm thinking I'll have a nine bandana rotation for my runs, and then I can auction them off after the marathon. All proceeds will benefit Susan G. Komen. I should be able to raise at least $3 or $4. What'll likely happen is I'll lose eight, and keep one ratty bandana as a souvenier representing the fun times training for the little October run in the heat of a Florida summer.

Florida summers. The stereotype of the south is the pace is much slower than the north. Having lived here since 2002, I now know why. It's the result of generations having lived here without the benefit of AC. If you're a bit warm up north, you get up and move. The breeze created by movement gives a little relief. Here in the south, movement just causes more sweat to form because the air is so full of water. No help at all, thankyouverymuch. So, people just didn't move unless they needed to move.

Today found me challenging myself in the Florida summer, having awakened an hour late. The temperature wasn't much higher, but the difference between ten miles in the sun, or not in the sun, is big. Not that I would know. I've never run ten miles before. I just assume so because running ten miles in the sun on the 13th of July in Central Florida was no fun.

What did I learn today (other than to get up earlier to avoid the sun)? Under the heart rate strategy, I can keep my heart rate where it should be (180 bpm less age) at a decent pace for about three miles. Between the third and fourth mile, I kept the pace and my heart rate popped up 15 bpm. From that point on, it was a challenge keeping the rate down. For the five miles out, things went well - with the sun in my eyes, and a little tightness in my right calf (previous problem had been my left calf, which was perfectly fine). When I made the turn at five miles, I had renewed energy and my pace quickened for about a mile. My heart rate shot 25 bpm higher than my target, and I struggled the rest of the return keeping it where it should be.

What else did I learn? Music is magic. That's not news. The musical selection on my iPhone is eclectic. The workout playlist for the gym injects a bit too much adrenaline into running when when trying to keep the heart rate down - but that's what was played. The Beastie Boys got in my head yelling, "Because you can't, you won't, and you don't stop" at just the right time. Doctor P assured me "It's gonna get, it's gonna get, it's gonna get louder / We're gonna get, we're gonna get, we're gonna get stronger / I gonna feel, gonna feel, gonna feel better". Rob Bailey kept the edge on things with "Hungry", reminding to "Focus on my own / Every day will test me / Nobody will ever fucking catch me / I live to be the best / This is all I got, this is all I got / I ignore the pain 'cause the pain will never stop / You're better than this, I'm better than this / You're bigger than this, I'm better than this."

Tomorrow is a cross training day. It'll be spent with my son on our tandem kayak catching big bass. Kayaking on a windy day in the summer is a workout, whether you want it to be or not. Next week is a "step-back" week. While the mid-week run will stay at 3-5-3 on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, Saturday's run will be 7 miles. The Saturday on the 27th jumps up to 12 miles. Just need to keep things loose. And keep the pink camo bandanas clean.