On conflict

"People can't understand why a man runs.  They don't see any sport in it; argue that it lacks the sight and thrill of body contact.  Yet, the conflict is there, more raw and challenging than any man versus man competition.  For in running it is man against himself, the cruelest of opponents.  The other runners are not the real enemies.  His adversary lies within him, in his ability, with brain and heart to master himself and his emotions."

-Glenn Cunningham, two-time U.S. Olympian

Flashback Friday II

August 2008, somewhere in the Gobi Desert in Mongolia

The best part of the Mongol Rally is not having to think about a response when asked, "what is the craziest thing you've ever done?"  In short: three years ago I bought a 17-year-old Nissan Micra in England on Ebay for $340 and drove it from London to Mongolia.  For charity.

My friend Paul and I took part in an event called the Mongol Rally, an event designed by the London-based League of Adventurists in order to make the world a less boring place.  The rules are simple:

1. Teams are on their own.  If the shit hits the fan, find a way out of it.
2. No GPS.
3. Car must be bought for less than $1,000.
4. Car must have less than a liter of engine power.
5. All teams must raise $2,000 for two of five designated Mongolian charities

Paul and I spent eight months fundraising, securing visas and plane tickets, scouring Ebay for a suitable car, and researching routes.  Once we got to England, we spent three weeks picking up the car and getting it checked out, buying supplies, researching insurance options, and getting mentally prepared for an intercontinental rally.  Once underway, we spent four weeks traversing Europe and Asia, negotiating border crossings, bribing Ukrainian and Russian cops, getting the car repaired, making friends with the locals, and landing triumphantly on the other side of the world in the capital of Mongolia.

I've had the chance to relive this mighty adventure a lot over the past few weeks.  When I recently found over an hour of raw footage from the trip in my dad's basement, I finally had the chance to make the highlights reel I always wanted to.  When I posted it to Facebook, a friend who writes for the local paper decided to run the story on the paper's website.

And without further ado, I present you with that very highlights reel.  But before you watch it, answer the question for yourself: what is the craziest thing you have ever done?

1997

     I sometimes meet my 16-year-old self for long runs - and long conversations - in what amounts to a metaphysical showdown between the self and the former self.  I badger him about his future, asking if he has any inkling of what is in store for him, and he stonewalls me with that insouciant, devil-may-care manner of teenagers that in fact masks a deep fear of the world and their place in it.  We share an identical past, and with each second eclipsed, he steps closer to me, and I further away from him.

     I leave my front door, and a few minutes later I meet him down by the river.

     "I finally beat your 5k PR," is the first thing I say to him.  "It was in a race two months ago."

     My 16-year-old self considers this for a moment and then says, "I never get any faster?"

     "Well, you did, obviously, but not before you turned into me."
     "That's cool."
     We continue along the outline of the river, dodging geese and the occasional stray child.  He starts to lag behind.
     "This sucks," he declares.  "How much longer?"

     "You've improved a lot since last summer."

     "I know, but this still sucks.  Let's just take a break for a minute."
     "If we stop to rest now, we'll never get started again."
     "You know us too well."
     "Indeed."

     After 5 miles my stride is still strong and my breathing steady, but he makes a turn towards the erratic.  We are in uncharted territory for him, and I sense his discomfort.  There is the physical discomfort, something he is not accustomed to, but there is also the mental discomfort of not knowing how much worse it will get.  I experienced something similar while running my first marathon.

     "I started running like, three months ago.  You've been doing it for years."

     "Stop saying 'like' all the time.  You sound ridiculous."

     "I'm a teenager, what do you expect?"

     "Don't use that as a catch-all excuse for your behavior."  I hated being scolded for anything at his age.  I can sense the counteroffensive before it even happens.
     "So what if you beat my PR 14 years later?  It's just a race."

     I take a long time to think of an appropriate answer, something I may not have done at his age. "Well... it is and it isn't.  Do you know what it feels like to take down a 14-year-old record?  Of course not.  14 years ago you were two.  You probably spent all of your time falling down on the carpet in the living room.  Or annoying Kirsten."

     "So enlighten me," he says in that insufferable way of teenagers that indicates he may or may not be listening.

     "Ok look.  Nothing in your life is going to go the way you expect it, and for the most part that's a good thing.  At some point you'll find it hard to truly test yourself; both your mental and physical strength.  Both of these things will become important to you, and running will be a way of showing just how much strength you possess.  Sometimes it will feel like the world is getting away from you, but you can always go for a run.  Running is the constant throughout your life."  I check to make sure he is still listening.  He appears to be deep in thought but still with me.  "Last week you ran a 5k in 18:29 with barely a second thought.  14 years later you will set your sights on that record and take it down.  It's not the actual race that you'll remember, but the work that led up to it.  Beating an old PR vindicates the hard work and is proof of the strength I'm always after.  Does any of this make sense?"
     "Yeah."
     A thought occurs to me, one that I keep to myself: when you go for a run with the teenage version of yourself, do you want to be jealous of this youthful specter of your past, or do you want it the other way around?

     "Does it ever go away?"
     "Does what ever go away?"
     He looks at me with a sincerity I'd forgotten I possessed as a teenager.  "The fear of your - our - place in the world?"
     "Not entirely, I'm afraid.  But it does get better, in ways you'll never expect."
     At six miles his stamina finally gives out, and he slows to a stop.  I can feel him watching me as I leave him behind, my legs strong, my breathing steady.

Movie Monday XXII

One of the most popular marathon videos on YouTube, this one documents one woman's debut marathon back in 2005.  Shortly after the race, she compiled her thoughts into a coherent piece, which she uses to narrate the video.  It's a well-made video from the perspective of a novice marathoner.

Perhaps even more interesting is the debate found in the comments section that rages on to this day.  Because she finished in over five and a half hours, the debate mirrors this entry from a few months ago about slow runners.  As she says, "it's not about time or place.  Like life, it's about the journey."

Cooper River Sunday

Another run along the Cooper River with Suze today, this one without the Armageddon thunderstorm going on around us.  We went five miles at it.

Suze is signed up for the Philly Rock n' Roll Half Marathon this September, along with a bunch of other South Jersey/Philly bloggers, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to join them.  While I may not have time to train for a full marathon this fall, I'm pretty sure I could easily knock out a half marathon a few months from now.

On my own

My roommate moved out at the end of last month and took almost all of the furniture with him. He also painted all of the walls white, so now it feels like I'm living in a mental ward.  Before he left, I told him he could leave anything he didn't need or want and I would take care of it.  While looking through the freezer today, I came across not one, not five, but TEN packages of chicken.  If I've learned nothing else from the A&E channel, and I haven't, it's that this could be the beginning stages of hoarding.

I had a particularly rough day today, including but not limited to my bike being stolen.  My roommate also left behind one of his stupid paintings, so to make myself feel better I stuck my head through it.  It worked wonders.

Your spelling homework

Can you help Runner's World and the Muddy Buddy Series find the mistake in the following ad? Good luck!

Movie Monday XXI

At 90 years old, my grandmother is still as sharp as a tack.  She can talk shop regarding her favorite subjects (the Phillies, grammar and spelling, or anything Michael Smerconish approves of), and she's  already been online sending me e-mails for years.

But as she grows older, she reminds us of her physical limitations.  She has trouble writing handwritten notes, and gets tired when playing with her great grandson Oliver.  She still takes the stairs and goes to her exercise classes, but the general impression is that getting old is hard.

One of the reasons I like to run marathons and climb mountains and do backflips on the beach and other random physical feats is because I know I won't always be able to.  At some point my body is going to fail me, so why not take advantage of all that it can do right now?

My dad's marathon days are long in the past, and he now likes to say he feels lucky if he can complete a 5k, so it makes me wonder just how long I'll keep running marathons.  But the guy in this week's video certainly offers encouragement.  He's 101 years old (or at least he was at the time this video was shot) and looks and sounds like the wacky crime boss in an English gangster movie, and he is still out there running marathons.

Wedding in Maine

Congratulations Saida.  May your new life with Aaron be long and filled with excitement.

love,

your fellow Bates Alumni

Swimming in Maine

Went for a shorter run by myself today, then followed it with a swim in the lake a mere 50 yards from our cabin.  I'm not a strong swimmer by any stretch of the imagination, but when the scenery is this gorgeous, I don't mind looking like I'm having an epileptic fit in the water.

And following up a run/swim workout with a beer?  It can't get any better.  Is this heaven?  No, it's just Maine.

Opening my beer on the dock (I'm Mr. Resourceful when cold beer is at stake).

Reconnecting in Maine

I've come up to Maine for the wedding of an old college friend, and have been able to reconnect with several other old friends in the process.  I genuinely love meeting new people, but nothing beats hanging out with the select few you share a history with, people who understand your personality and quirks and still want to be friends with you anyway.

Mike, Tahsin and I were theater and drinking buddies in college, and after we finished our hour long run today, we couldn't stop marveling at how fit we've become since then.  The last time we saw each other - 7 years ago on a trip to Daytona Beach - we wouldn't have been able to run even 5 minutes together.  Tahsin shares an avid interest in racing (particularly triathlons), so it was nice to not have to dial back my obsession around him.

The run, incidentally, along rural roads in Maine, was the longest I've run since Grandma's Marathon two weeks ago, and the best I've felt during a run in ages.

Mike, Tahsin, me, post run in Belgrade Lakes, Maine

Grandma's Marathon photos

My dear pregnant sister waited for me at the 25th mile of the marathon on a cold and damp day in Duluth, only to have me hobble past her without even noticing her cheers.  Meanwhile, as she was waiting for me, she struck up a conversation with a woman cheering on her husband.  That woman had a fantastic camera and managed to get some really nice photos of me.  She and my sister exchanged e-mail addresses, and the pictures have now arrived.

All photos by Emily Voelker:

Summa time

For the week after Grandma's Marathon, I didn't do a lot of running.  Kathleen got me a two week trial membership to her gym, so I was able to use the pool a lot.  Working different muscle groups while putting less stress on my legs was a great way to spend the recovery period.

The recovery period is now over and I'm back in the phase of maintaining the base mileage until the next time I feel like torturing myself for a few months.  For now, I'm trying to enjoy the summer as best I can, and am just doing simple 4 mile runs, which means everyone who knows me always says "that's it?!" when I tell them how far I ran that day.

And when I'm not running or swimming, I'm doing backflips on the beach.  Anything to keep up with the fitness.

Movie Monday XX

In honor of Grandma's Marathon a little over a week ago, here is a video recap of the race by Olympian Carrie Tollefson.  It's very well made and captures a lot of the race.  Enjoy!

Always try...

I first picked up an old copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest at a hostel in Australia and read it while traversing the dusty Outback.  I reread it a year or two later, followed by several screenings of the 1975 film adaptation.  But my particular attachment to this book stems from playing McMurphy in the stage adaptation in 2008.

I had been away from the theater for five years, and walked into auditions just hoping to be cast as one of the orderlies.  Instead I walked away with the lead role.  To this day, it remains one of the most challenging roles I've ever played, but easily the most rewarding.

One of the themes in the book is the idea of trying; no matter the obstacles, no matter the odds against you, no matter, as long as you try.  Always try.  In the middle of the book, McMurphy bets his fellow mental ward inmates that he can lift a giant control panel.  "His whole body shakes with the strain as he tries to lift something he knows he can't lift, something everybody knows he can't lift... Then his breath explodes out of him, and he falls back limp against the wall.  There's blood on the levers where he tore his hands.  He pants for a minute against the wall with his eyes shut. There's no sound but his scraping breath; nobody's saying a thing."  McMurphy, in fact, doesn't lift the control panel.  He ends up staring down his buddies with something resembling pathos, disgust, shame and condescension rolled into one before storming out of the room.

I've been lucky to have several successes in the past year, both in the realm of running and outside of it, but I've also had plenty of failures.  Looking back, and looking forward, agonizing in the present... I find this part of the book the most comforting.

"He stops at the door and looks back at everyone standing around.  'But I tried, though,' he says.  'Goddammit I sure as hell did that much, now didn't I?'"

You can't ask for much more, now can you?

Novice vs. Veteran

The difference between marathon novices and veterans (in Facebook updates):

The Novice: "Oh  my God, I'm running a marathon today!  I can't believe how crazy I am!  This is crazy!  Who runs 26.2 miles?  Look at how crazy I am!  Aren't I crazy?!?!?!"

The Veteran: "Another marathon today.  Git 'er done."

I started out as the former, but I think I've moved on to the latter.

Do Life comes to Philly

Kathleen and I met up with the Davis clan in Philly last night for the third stop in the First Official Unofficial Do Life 5k Tour.  Over 40 people showed up at Eakins Oval next to the Philadelphia Museum of Art to share conversation, a few miles, and dinner.  Kathleen was star struck at seeing people in real life that she'd been following online for months.

Kathleen: (while running) Hey Ben!  If I catch up to you, will you marry me?
Ben: Yes! (speeds up)

We headed out en masse along Kelly Drive, one of Philly's favorite running spots, for a leisurely 5k run. I could still feel the soreness and general fatigue from the marathon only two days before, but the scenery, perfect weather and camaraderie more than made up for it.  And we wouldn't be proper Philly hosts if we didn't make the Davis boys run the art museum steps a lá Rocky Balboa, so that's how we finished out our run.

After running and taking pictures, we headed to the nearest Whole Foods where we all hung out eating and talking.

Thanks for stopping in Philly, guys, and good luck on the rest of the tour.

Ze Germans

If you've read the "About Me" section of this blog, you know that I'm a teacher.  But in the grand tradition of only sharing half-truths on the internet, that is, well, only half the truth.  Yes, I've spent the past two years teaching in South Jersey.  But one of those years was filling in for two maternity leaves, and the other was just regular subbing.  When I spoke of the horrible time I went through last summer and fall, not being able to secure a full-time teaching position was the main factor. Feeling like I was wasting my talent was another.

And then something remarkable happened today.  After many months of networking, formal and informal interviews, a demo lesson, writing and revising my cover letter, and securing letters of recommendation, I was offered a full-time position as a German teacher at a high school right down the street from where I live.

"But Scott, your certification is in elementary education."  Yes, it is.  Which is why I will be spending the majority of the summer taking classes and official state exams to make sure I am certified to teach at the high school level come fall.  Unfortunately, once fall comes, I will have to spend all of my time wrapping my head around teaching a new curriculum and age group, meaning there may not be time to train for a fall marathon.  As much as I hate to say that, I just have to be careful about spreading myself too thin in my first year as a new teacher.

Getting the job now seems like it was the easy part compared to all that I have to accomplish in the coming weeks and months, but for now I leave you in extremely high spirits knowing that once again, hard work has paid off.

Grandma's Marathon: Race Report

Grandma's Marathon is based out of Duluth, MN, on the shore of Lake Superior.  It's a straight course, so it starts 26.2 miles away in the town of Two Harbors.  It seems like hotel rooms in the area had been booked solid for the past year, so my sister and I stayed in the small town of Tofte, an hour from the start line.  It was a beautiful area, practically in Canada, but required a 5am wake up call.

We made it to Two Harbors by 6:30 where Kirsten dropped me off at a hotel where I could take the shuttle to the starting line.  The shuttle was late, and we sat in marathon traffic for awhile, which means I didn't arrive at the starting area until 7:15 for a 7:30 start.  I barely had time to drop my bag at gear check and go to the bathroom before I had to get into the starting chute.  There were no official corrals, so I just had to fight my way forward.

I started behind the 3:40 pacer, and because it was so crowded, I ran my first mile in 8:10.  I soon passed the 3:40 group, and shortly after that I passed the 3:30 group.  I didn't catch up with the 3:20 group until mile 14, and then passed them too.  Unfortunately I couldn't keep up this pace, and they passed me around mile 22.

The course had long stretches with no spectators, but fortunately there were plenty of patches with spectators and music to help get me through.  Lots of cowbells and cheerleaders and dogs, and in the later miles, exuberant college kids handing out cups and cans of beer.  I grabbed a can of Budweiser at mile 21 and took 2 swallows, crushed it and slammed it on the ground.  The college kids erupted in cheers.  It was a nice boost, but unfortunately didn't last long.

My marathon MO seems to be to head out at what I consider a steady, sustainable pace, and inevitably I start to crash after 20 miles and just try to hang on for dear life.  I would love to be able to run perfectly even splits, but so far this ability has eluded me.  Apparently my sister was at mile 25 and yelled my name, but I didn't hear her at all.  According to her, I looked like I was "in the zone."  The last mile was my slowest, and I finished the race in 3:24:15.  Beforehand I told myself I would be happy with anything under 3:30, but I can't help but feel discouraged at my weak finish.

The weather was in the low 50's the whole race with a threat of rain, but luckily only drizzled a little in the first few miles.  I was debating whether to wear a long sleeve shirt, but at the last moment opted for just the short sleeve shirt.  For the most part this worked out, but I was shivering uncontrollably once I crossed the finish line and stopped running.  I was experiencing severe pain in my hips, and it took ages to find and then hobble to the gear check to collect my things.

After getting changed, I met my sister, and we took a picture at the finish line before slowly walking back to her car.  We drove back to St. Paul where we went out to an Irish Pub for dinner, and I enjoyed my first beer in almost a month.  Many thanks to Kirsten for helping with logistics like hotels and parking, and of course for driving me to and from the marathon.

Away we go...

At Marathon arrayed, to the battle shock we ran

And our mettle we displayed, foot to foot, man to man

And our name and fame shall not die.

-Aristophanes "The Arachanians"  425 B.C.

5am in the hotel: the calm before the storm.