Run DMZ

Photo from Paris taken by my daughter Alexandra.

Now that the Olympics are over, I'm enjoying the commentary. Especially this piece on Why Michael Phelps is Not the Greatest Olympiad . He may end up the richest, and he's certainly impressed me with his modesty. But swimming and track are not the same, that's for sure. Let's just hope when he decides to retire he doesn't do a marathon for a publicity stunt.

I mentioned about a month ago that we had a competition going at work to see which individuals and which teams of five could record the most activity minutes within a two-month period. For the first week or so, my team’s collective score was suspiciously not much different than my individual score. That led us to go from No. 1 in the first couple of days to No. 10 (of 10 teams) by the end of the week. One player had been on vacation, and another promised to make it up to the team by walking all over Vegas the other weekend. They both came through and we’re now No. 5. Individually, I’ve managed to stay in the Top 10, often the Top 5. I’ve got really stiff competition and doubt I’ll finish much higher than 5, but some of the early leaders already have flamed out. They treated the competition like a sprint when it’s really a marathon. I’m pacing myself carefully, and it’s paying off. I’ve been much better with my diet since last week’s debacle. No sodas, no sweets and I’ve begun to cut ba...

Dear Elise, Sorry I didn't always come home when I said I would. I tried, though. I really did. I guess I also need to apologize for leaving you with "no food in this house." How was I to know those were all empty boxes on top of the fridge and empty bags in the bins? Besides, I figured a college senior might understand. (That phone call to me at work just to let me know you were forced to eat a tortilla for breakfast? A little much, don't you think?) You've really matured in the three years since you left for college; I saw it when we went shopping in La Jolla. You didn't want me to buy you some "career clothes" and kept saying you were worried about the cost. Or was it just my taste? We never made it to the beach, did we? We didn't even make you Dad's fried rice! How'd that happen? Well, I might have come up a little short during your way-too-brief visit, but just remember this: I did give you a sister and you didn't even have to as...

Part of my reintroduction to “real running” has been establishing a training schedule. But putting brackets around previously endless excuses is proving harder than expected. I blame August. Here I am just two weeks into my Reformation and already I’m missing scheduled runs because of late evenings with friends and misguided menus and “Olympics fatigue.” Take yesterday. I planned to run 45 minutes before work, only I overslept due to the evening concert under the stars in La Jolla. I forgot to eat my two-egg breakfast, so I snuck leftover cheese and rolls at the office, only to discover a surprise breakfast for a departing coworker 30 minutes later. I couldn’t deny myself a big ol’ bagel but at least I didn’t load it up with cream cheese. Then I went on a lunchtime walk with a coworker, passing another colleague out for his usual afternoon run. I felt not the least amount of guilt until I returned feeling famished and decided to eat a Cobb salad. Everyone else waited for a late lunch a...

I have such amazing friends. Some of you may recall me telling you about my friend Vicki, who was hit head-on by a fast-moving cyclist in Mission Bay. She was rushed to the hospital bloody, broken and unconscious. The guy on the bike suffered a broken neck. Yesterday we got together for a charity walk with another friend, Tara, at Miramar Lake. (That’s them in the photo above.) Vicki caught us up on her 30th wedding anniversary, son’s college graduation and daughter’s wedding, all of which occurred about six weeks after her accident. I kept thinking: I can’t believe this is the same woman I saw on Mother’s Day with broken bones and a bruised face and brain. I learned a little about the tribulations of healing from a serious head trauma, and how mysterious memory can be. We all agreed it's a blessing that she has no recollection of the collision or its immediate aftermath. Not only is Vicki back to her ol’ self, but she’s running again -- impressively long distances. She’s planning ...

I got a nice surprise in my inbox yesterday. My Cape Cod running partner, Trish, wrote to say hello after a long absence and to remind me that this Sunday marks the 10th anniversary of our first time running together in the Falmouth Road Race. I haven’t run Falmouth in years, but it remains my favorite road race even thousands of miles away. Like certain runs, there are races that a runner holds dear. Maybe you fell in love with the place or the person beside you. Maybe spectators knew you by sight or name. Maybe stamina overrode stigma and you finished dead last with your head held high and fists pumping. I suppose Falmouth is that race for me, whether I finished those 7.1 miles soaked in sweat ahead of my friends or shivering uncontrollably well behind schedule. For several months each summer everyone’s training runs were in support of that Sunday morning in mid-August for the 7,000 fortunate enough to get in. The day never disappointed. Falmouth itself is a big part of my personal h...

Yes, it's Wednesday but this is too cool to wait another day. Olympics Tracker in the NY Times Great tool to help you keep track of what events you don't want to miss and when they are being done/broadcast in your own time zone.

Judging by the stiffness I woke to yesterday, and the way such soreness receded during my recovery run, I'd say I've found the root of the shaky limbs on Saturday: body shock. Races, even when you aren't really racing, are a great reality check. Sometimes you're surprised at how well you do, which bolsters the training you've already done. And sometimes you realize you really have been mailing it in for so long your body doesn't register a hard effort right away. This is reinforced when you look at the results and discover the women you used to run with are now placing in their age groups. I gave myself a full year to get healthy. I'm going to give myself another four months to get real. And, of course, get better.

It’s been exactly a year since I seriously injured my achilles tendon and my running (once again) went off the rails. Four months of rehab and relapses were followed by five more months of debilitating headaches and failed PT drills. It took the blunt words of a neurologist in late May to force me to accept limits I’d long ignored. So this morning I took a big step towards re-engaging with the greater San Diego running community by returning to my past point of failure. The good news is I accomplished my longest run in a year. The bad: I sucked. The run, though, was terrific because of my companion, the blogworld’s very own Momo . She’s been vacationing in Coronado, and we finally were able to meet up before her family takes off next week. She’s still transitioning between recovering from Ironman Couer d’Alene and training in earnest for Ironman Arizona, and I, despite logging 5 miles at most, figured I could stretch it to 6 for this special occasion. That’s how we ended up in this mor...