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.

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.

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!