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.

Today was a good run, but a late start. Five miles is still a long distance, and this week it shows up on my calendar on Wednesday. The training program I'm following has a mid-week long run and a weekend long run. The weekend long run is much longer, and builds up gradually over the months leading up to the marathon to twenty miles. The mid-week run increases every third week, topping out at ten miles. The good news is I set a new "best" with the five miles. Still not proud enough of that time to put it out there publicly, but there is improvement. I look forward to the day when five miles is like a walk in the park.

As I run, thousands of thoughts fly through my mind. Some of them center around what plays on my iPhone (coincidentally, today it was the audiobook Rapt which addresses the importance of focusing on the most important things to realize success). Some thoughts are on family-related things. Often, thoughts are about work. Most frequently, they're focused on the run.

So what about it? Where do those thoughts about the run take me?

Marathon coaches everywhere say to ignore the clock during your first marathon. Just focus on putting in the miles. Finshing is more important than beating a time. Being a competitor, that doesn't work. Having failed at four previous attempts to train for a marathon, I undestand the risks. Push too hard, and your body screams louder than the voice in your head telling you to "suck it up".

This time during training, there are three areas of focus. First, and most importantly, is distance. You have to log the miles. Don't log the miles, and you won't finish the training, and you won't run a marathon. It's that easy. Second, I'm watching my heart rate. The owner of a local running store suggested something he read; keep your heart rate at the same pace - 180 less your age. That puts me at 135 bpm. That doesn't work real well either as I'm used to pushing it to 175 bpm, but it's a good barometer as I see when I'm pushing myself harder than usual. Third, I can't help but watch the time. The initial part of the run, the focus is on whether the run will be too long and interfere with work. That theme is "worry," and that's not good. The last part of the run, the focus is on time, heart rate, and maintaining pace to keep minutes per mile down.

I'm running. Well, not right this minute. I'm typing on a computer. But I've decided to run the Chicago Marathon with my brother Chris. I'm a few weeks into the formal training program. It's something I decided several months ago and has been a "bucket list" item for years. The biggest challenge when making a decision to do something physical at age 45 is competing with your former self. That's what has caused problems before - at ages 40, 33, 32 and 30 when I went through this.

See, when you're younger, your BODY is what tells you you're not able to go any faster. Your legs say, "DUDE, you can WANT to go faster all you want, but we're not going any faster than we are right now." When you get older, your legs stop talking to you, apparently giving you the silent treatment for ignoring them when you were younger. And the mind gets in the way. "Now, now. Don't try to go too fast. Remember about your calf / knee / achilles / plantar fascia / big toe. If you push too hard, you won't be able to get out of bed." And then there's another voice in your head that says, "BUT I'M AN ATHLETE! I CAN CONQUER THE WORLD!" That's when Louis CK pops into my head and says, "You're NOT an athlete."