These Are the Days

My heart is racing as I sit on the couch this morning.  My hands are shaking. I just finished episode eight of The Pacific, the World War II miniseries on HBO.

I'm not going to write a review or anything like that.  But rather how I feel after watching it.

I'll start by admitting that lately, I'm much more easily moved to tears.  Though I may be an emotional guy, I've never been accused of being a crier -- unless Rudy is on the screen.  Now, inspirational, romantic or even sad news hits me harder...right in my chest and lungs.  And tears roll down my face.  They did at Wildflower.  They are this morning.

I know why.

It's because I realize, at 35 years old, finally, I am embedded in the prime of my life.  Right now.  In THIS moment.  I'm in peak physical condition.  My mental outlook is strong.  I'm marrying a truly stunning lady in every way.  My family is healthy and happy.  I have good friends.  A good job.  And I'm able to pursue my own dreams without guilt or worry.

Some of my friends and even family members haven't always been so lucky.  Some didn't make it to 30.  Some made it to 30 but not 35.  A few never saw 25.

They never got to experience what it's like to know that life doesn't get much better than this.  And I've spent years and years taking that for granted. Like a lucky little dandelion seed floating cluelessly, miraculously, from one unexpected adventure to the next...that's been my life.  A "Forrest Gump" existence, as my parents call it.

When you realize how precious that is, when you see how easily fate could have been crueler...a war, a draft, a battle, and a coffin for example...it hits.  Hard.  When you watch a man fall in love -- whether it's in real life or on the big screen -- and then die at the top of his game, it hits hard.  When you know what that love is or good fortune or good health, and you know that it can all be blown to bits at any moment, it hits hard.

I am lucky. Very lucky.  And I think about that a lot lately.  I take nothing for granted.  Not in training.  Not with my relationship. Not with my family.  Not with my friends.

It could all go away tomorrow.  I could be cut down in my prime.  But I am also wide awake, a passenger riding shotgun and taking notes in my own head.

I am more aware than I've ever been in my entire life -- living long and full and strong enough to know that these are indeed the best of days.

That's why I cried a little this morning.

202 days and counting.

Inspired Exhaustion

I'm going on 11 hours of sleep spanning two-and-a-half days. I partied with my LA Tri Club and Fortius friends until 10 tonight.

I'm done. Tired.  Spent.  A short but hard work and training week is over.  Tomorrow I have the day off work for a company outing, which I can't wait for: Ironman 2!

Yep, that's how my company rolls!

I capped the week off in style though, taking Stephanie's and my friend Erin to the LA Tri Club's First Thursday event in Sherman Oaks.  It was a record crowd, close to 85 attended.  Watching a newcomer experience the LA Tri Club was a special treat for me.  Erin was truly inspired by everyone's enthusiasm, positive outlook and high energy.  She said the club represents the kind of people she would like to surround herself with, and I couldn't agree more.

I remember a few years ago after my first 5k race seeing an LA Tri Club tent and thinking, "Those guys are crazy!  Who has the time for that kind of training?!"

Now I know I've discovered a lifestyle for a lifetime.  Something that keeps me feeling younger and stronger as when I was in high school.

I'm eager for Erin to experience that same joy.

My evening revelry served as the perfect bookend for an equally inspiring morning.  After a strong swim with the Fortius team (including a 3:11 timed 200), I went home to ride on the bike trainer for 40 minutes.  One DVD made an ordinary ride anything but: The Ford Ironman Kona 2009 World Championships recap.  If you don't own this, buy it.  If you've seen it on YouTube, buy the real thing.

Watching the pros battle in the heat and learning about some of the other truly tear-jerking stories from random competitors swelled my heart with adrenaline and optimism.  I got the DVD as a consolation prize for not being selected to the 2010 Ironman Kona lottery, but I didn't realize how valuable a prize this video would be.  It will serve as my visual Bible for the next several months -- teaching, inspiring, illuminating in deeper and deeper ways every day.  I can relate to each athlete's struggle to overcome their own personal adversity to achieve something most other people will never comprehend.

Well, almost.  One athlete featured is a double-leg amputee who is a nationally recognized triathlete.

No matter how much I hurt or think I hurt, that guy has had it worse.  I will try to complain far less and always keep him in mind when I'm sore, frustrated or just not feelin' it.

So after a long string of days, after being so tired right now my 1,000-yard-stare has a 1,000-yard stare, I wish I could bottle up all the optimism and excitement blasting through my veins.  I know I'll need it for other days down the line.

Or maybe I can just resolve to have more optimistic and exciting days?

203 days and counting.

Karmic Pizza

I have discovered the elusive missing link to achieving a great triathlon race result.

Pizza.

But not just any pizza.  This is a special kind.  And instead of eating it, you must give it away to someone in need before your race.  It doesn't really matter when in the day that happens.  In return, if you're lucky, the pizza recipient will wish you a good race and shower cosmic karma upon you.

I know this to be true, because that's exactly what happened to me the day before posting a 2:54:00 Wildflower Olympic time this past Sunday, 10 minutes faster than my predicted best-case scenario, good for a top 50 finish in my age group (top 23%) and top 26% among all men.  I even saw all my swim training pay off with a 29:36 mile swim, breaking the 30-minute mark for the first time and beating my old personal best open-water swim by four minutes.

I need to find more pizza to give away!

Here's what happened.  My buddy Dustin and I were waiting in the stands near the finish line for our friend Darrin to finish the long-course, which ran the day before the Olympic race.  Darrin had a long day but demonstrated what it meant to persevere over adversity.  He snapped his chain within the first mile of the bike portion, walked the bike a mile back to our RV camper, fixed the chain (pictured below), walked his bike back to the course and was on his way.  While we were waiting for Darrin, Dustin and I both felt mid-afternoon hunger pangs.  I went on a scouting mission for pizza and on my way back with two slices in hand, a girl who had just completed the long course walked up next to me and said, "I could attack you for a slice of that pizza right now!"

After a little banter back-and-forth, I realized she might not be joking.

I told the girl, whose name I never got, to follow me back to the stands.  Once I gave Dustin his slice, I tore half of my pizza and gave it to the girl. Even though she protested at first, she quickly relented.  After doing so, she looked up at me, smiled wide and said, "You are going to have the race of a lifetime tomorrow.  You just got a TON of race karma.  You are going to kick major ass."

Instead of making a joke back or some self-deprecating comment, I did something I normally don't do when someone says something nice to or about me...I simply said, "Thanks, I hope so."

So it was wished, so it occurred.

And I have pizza to thank.  So there you go, fellow triathletes...you can train as hard as you want, but maybe simply doing something nice for a fellow racer will put you in the best position to achieve your goals.

In the end, while the race itself was a special moment for me, it was overshadowed by the "one and only" experience that is Wildflower.  There were a reported 30,000 people on hand to witness the weekend's activities.  And many of them dotted the entire race course cheering on athletes of all abilities.  I can say that in least two spots on the bike and at least three on the run I received a much-needed adrenaline boost just from the encouragement.  (The bikini-clad college girls handing out water at the aid stations helped a little too.)  The crowd was at its finest in the stands near the finish line, where runners' gritty and sometimes-grinning facial expressions told lengthy tales of dedication, sacrifice and determination.  I welled up with tears on Saturday at least five times watching fathers pick up their children to run to the end with them, or small children high-fiving strangers as they passed by.  Or couples holding hands while running to the finish together.

The magic of the sport is not solely possessed by the elite. Far from it.  It's a form of karmic pizza all its own, where triumphant finishers give back energy to the crowd as much if not more than what they're gaining by completing a massive personal challenge.

We think we're taking, gaining, obtaining, and striving.  But really, we're giving, sharing, encouraging and caring.

If you haven't been to Wildflower, go.  Even if you don't race, go.  There's a reason it's called the "one and only."

And if you've been to Wildflower, let's sign up again for next year.

I'll even bring the pizza.

204 days and counting.

The Crash: 1 Year Later

One year ago today, I turned my road bike into a mountain bike, hurtling over the edge off Santa Susana Pass and tumbling down about 30 feet. And walked away from it.

The mental toll was much worse.  It took me about nine months before I started cornering more aggressively on my Colnago.  Even though I consider myself mentally "rehabilitated," there are still moments on downhills where I recreate the events leading up to my crash.  Sweeping right turn.  Over-correct to stay on the right side of the road.  Notice the rapid left approaching quicker than I'd like.  Brake too hard.  Get loose on gravel.  Lock eyesight on cliff, and the tree just beyond it.  Panic.

I knew today would be a milestone for me as I'd have to overcame those mental images throughout our Fortius team ride in the Malibu/Agoura hills. I think about that crash on almost every ride, but I knew it would be top-of-mind today.   Especially when it was announced we would be descending down the notoriously technical Decker Canyon Road off Mulholland Drive.  When Stephanie and I got back together, I promised her that I'd avoid this canyon as much as possible because of how fast cars and motorcycles rocket down it.  But today, on this one-year anniversary of an event that should have either killed or severely injured me,  I had to prove something to myself.  It wasn't a day to turn back.

The descent was fairly easy, I'm pleased to say.  In fact, I surprised myself by taking some of the more difficult lines almost perfectly.  The feeling of nailing a line is so ecstatic.  I can only describe it as feeling bound to your bike and the road as if all were melded together on rails like a roller coaster.  Gravity, physics and inertia all work together simultaneously, and in that brief moment, cycling becomes gliding.

I did have one flashback moment though.  There's a tight left hairpin turn with a berm at the apex.  If you don't know it's coming, it can take you by surprise.  I remember seeing it for the first time months ago on my initial Decker descent, grateful for my ginger approach down the mountain.  Had I not crashed at Santa Susana Pass, I very well might have missed that corner amidst my inexperience and arrogance.

Because I hadn't ridden Decker in so long, this turn caught me a bit by surprise this morning.  But the difference was a year of maturity and respect for the sport.  Instead of slamming on the brakes, I gradually applied pressure and looked my way through the corner.  I didn't lock on the potential obstacle, but scanned ahead to the other side of the corner so I knew how to approach the turn after that.  Instead of freezing, I analyzed. Instead of panicking, I adapted.

This moment was probably indistinguishable to the rest of my teammates, but it's something I'll remember for a long time.  I've descended Decker before.  But today, it was a little more special. A rite of passage.  A rite that I feel blessed to have been afforded.

The rest of the ride was highly enjoyable due to the sunny, temperate weather and the fact that my buddies Frank and Dustin (both pictured) accompanied the Fortius team and me.  Each held their own today, which always impresses me since they both juggle busy work and family lives.  I joked with Dustin that he and Frank are actually quint-athletes since Dustin balances a marriage and a pregnant wife while Frank has a wife, two kids and a new dog.  Now that is dedication!

In addition to our Rock Store climb and Decker descent, I was also proud of the time trial we did in Hidden Valley.  I wasn't wearing a heart-rate monitor or a speedometer but I know I pushed it hard today, and felt strong. Improvement is both physical and mental.

I'm so grateful that I even had an opportunity to be in this position.  To realize the dream of becoming an Ironman.  To be able to learn from past mistakes and grow.  To learn more about myself and evolve into something a little better.

Aha. The real benefit of this Ironman journey.

214 days and counting.

An Exclusive Fraternity

I had an interesting conversation with my buddy John this morning. We were talking about industry-related happenings when he asked me how I was doing post-engagement.  I told him that I actually felt different. Like I actually had changed inside just a little.  I had always heard about this mental shift, that "something just clicks" in your brain when you enter into the world of engagement and marriage.

It's true!

No longer is it just about me. While that was really fun for 35 years, I know that I have a far greater responsibility now.  To be a true partner in all aspects of life, putting Stephanie  and her needs at the top of the list with my own.  It means when friends want to visit from out of town, discussing first with Steph before blindly saying "Sure!  Come on over and crash on the couch."  I never used to think in those terms -- didn't have to.  But now, it's instinctive.  We...not me.

John chuckled when I shared this revelation.  "Welcome to the fraternity," he said, adding that there's a tighter bond among married guys than single guys because of thoughts just like this.

Huh.  The strange part is that I thought I was done with fraternities in college.  But I can say I'm as excited to enter this exclusive club as I was my freshman year at the University of Arizona.  The same sense of wonder is there.  Maybe a little anxiety too, of the unknown.  The motivations are different, but just as powerful.

I suppose you could say I'm now a pledge in Mu Delta: Married Dudes.  I'll become an active sometime between next February and July.

***

On the Ironman training front, I had my first brick workout in weeks. Instead of training in the morning though, I waited until the late afternoon, when I joined LA Tri Club and Fortius Coaching members on a 90-minute bike ride up and around Griffith Park followed by a 30-minute trail run.  I held my own but think my heart-rate was a little higher than I'd like, mostly zone 4 for the long hill bike climb that takes you to the Griffith Park Observatory.

I've never ridden up the long hill that passes the Hollywood sign.  The road is in poor shape but the climb is a very good workout.  And the reward -- a postcard view of the Los Angeles basin -- makes it all worth it.

Clearly though, the best part of the workout was having training partners to enjoy it with.  I'm going to shuffle my schedule around in the future to do the Wednesday bricks -- working early in the morning and leaving earlier in the evening.  It makes such a difference not to have to wake yourself up at the crack of dawn to train alone.  Plus, it keeps Steph happy since she knows I'm likely to be safer in a group setting.

And these are the things I want to consider now -- especially since it's likely in the Mu Delta pledge manual.

237 days and counting.

The Luckiest

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite Ryan/Stephanie songs is "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds.  It's a song that only begins to describe how I feel about my journey with Stephanie.  There's so much emotion in the singer's voice and I really tap into that feeling. Tonight though, I have to say it means something a little different.

The 21st Century dictates that nothing is considered "official" if it isn't posted on Facebook, Twitter or even Foursquare these days.  So when Steph and I posted our engagement news on Facebook, I knew we'd both receive some congratulatory comments.

What I didn't expect was the near 100 comments and wishes from friends and family.  Many of whom I haven't spoken directly with in years.

I truly feel among the luckiest people to have such a loving and supportive group surrounding me in my life.  While it only takes literally 10 seconds or less to post a "Mazel Tov!" or "Congrats!" on someone's wall, it really makes a difference.  I felt truly flattered and humbled by all the sincere gestures.  I would say it even added some extra time on the after-glow of the celebration of our announcement.

So, thank you, everyone.  Thank you.

On to the rest of my day.  Besides starting my first day as Steph's fiance, I returned to the world of Ironman training. The workout was simple: 40 minutes of easy spinning and 40 minutes of easy running.  Emphasis on "easy."  However, I felt really good this morning!  It's amazing what a week of rest can do for your body.  I did my best to hold back on the bike, but it was hard not to crank up the gears on the trainer.  I remember just a couple weeks ago how hard it was to get out of just the first gear.  Today, I wanted to pedal in the big chain immediately. I hope I can maintain that energy level for longer moving forward.

I enjoyed the run even more. Not for the physical activity itself.  But rather the feeling of running again.  The way my warm sweat cooled instantly in the balmy morning air.  The gentleness of the very slight breeze glancing off my visor and glistening forehead.  The long-lost bounce in my steps.  My pace was less than stellar, roughly 9:45-10:00, but the gentle zone 2 heart-rate assured me I had a lot more fuel in the energy tank than just a few weeks ago.  It makes me wonder whether my new Garmin would have helped me run a smarter LA Marathon had I better understood my pacing levels by using it sooner.  But then again, I know the kind of half-marathon pace I ran, and today I was intentionally holding myself back.  I'll keep an eye on this budding hypothesis.

The evening concluded with a Passover Seder at my parents' house in Simi Valley. Long-standing family friends joined us, along with my sister and her boyfriend, and Stephanie, of course.  In the past, I used to be so stressed out about whether my family would accept Steph, what Steph was thinking and feeling, and what I could do to make the situation better.  I cannot express how grateful I am that I don't have to think like that anymore. We all felt like a true family tonight.  A different kind of family, since my grandparents are no longer an active part of our lives.  But I know they would have been so happy at the sight of seeing a new generation of soon-to-be Schneiders experience a traditional family Seder.  It may be a little frenetic, a little crazy and a little off-the-wall.  But our Seder is our Seder, and it's truly one-of-a-kind.

I can honestly say I look forward to family events so much more than I have in the past.  It's nice to share them with the person I had always wanted to.

I am indeed the luckiest.

239 days and counting.

Basking In Others' Achievements

It was so strange to sleep in this morning and to not be on the road, in the pool or on a trail. Most of my friends were, in fact. At big races, no less.  Richard did the Oceanside 70.3 Half-Ironman.  Anat, Ray and Gerardo ran the Cheseboro Half-Marathon.

Me?  I'm relishing the final moments of luxurious weekend free-time before jumping head-first into a hard-core training regimen.  The next big goal?  Vineman Half-Ironman.  July 18 is the target.

I'm currently on the wait list though, which adds a little bit of drama.  I should be able to get in though.  At least I'm planning for that.  The one big change I'll make for Vineman that I learned from my LA Marathon experience is to focus more about the event in front of me and less on the ultimate goal, Ironman Arizona. I need to respect each race on the calendar and not take anything for granted, the way perhaps I did with the marathon.  I assumed I'd be in great health and I'd hit my goals.  The actual race kind of snuck up on me since I was so focused on November 21 and not March 21.  You simply can't look ahead of any race, since the message I hear over and over from my training friends is that nothing matters except how you feel the morning of the race.  That's it.

Lesson learned.

One thing that I've also noticed throughout my weekend day of relaxation has been the joy I'm getting in hearing how my friends did at their races.  It's nice to sit back, not compare times, or be busy at the race myself.  I get to relax and celebrate others' accomplishments with them without a hint of competition or distraction.  I really like it!  I'm very happy for both Anat and Richard, who absolutely slayed their respective races.  It fuels my motivation to get back out there.  I needed that!

The rest of the day is going to be busy, which is why I'm writing now.  Steph and I have a family barbecue in Orange County, followed by a housewarming party for one of her closest friends, Lauren.  I'm excited to see everyone, and get my grub on!  Indonesian barbecue can't be beat!

One more day of non-training.  I'm right where I want to be: Eager. Energetic.  Excited.  MOTIVATED.

Ready.

241 days and counting.

A Race About Friendship

The LA Marathon won't be remembered for my performance.

I finished in 5:11, nearly a full 1.5 hours slower than I had hoped.  Sickness and fatigue shut me down at mile 9, somewhere between the end of Los Angeles and beginning of West Hollywood.    I don't quite remember where, but I remember when.  I was running with my buddy Chris and we both were steadily maintaining a 9:00-mile pace after a quick opening sequence of 8:35-minute miles.  However, as I monitored my heart-rate during the first hour of the run, I realized I was high in zone 5, around 166 bpm.  Something was very wrong, considering I was running slower than anticipated and in a full two heart-rate zones higher.  At that point, we came to the 10-mile water stop and I told Chris to continue ahead without me.  I needed a break.  He said he'd wait, but I knew better.  The race was over for me.

Chris disappeared quickly into the sea of runners.

Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt totally alone.  Dejected.  Defeated.

Angry.

I had trained so damn hard for this moment, nearly five months.  And it was gone in an hour.  Gone.

I tried to jog the next couple miles and watched as my pace slowly deterioriated.  Even with more effort, my times were slowing.  Ten-minute miles became 11.  Eleven minutes became 12.  With each step, I became angrier and more frustrated.

This wasn't fair!  I didn't deserve this!

Then, I remembered those poor kids from the Starlight Foundation.

THAT wasn't fair.

I started to pull it together around mile 13.  But then, I was rounding the corner onto La Cienega from Sunset when I ran into my Fortius teammate, Christina.  She was off to the side, walking.  I knew something terrible was wrong for her too.  Sadly I was right.  She pulled a quad muscle and was done for the day.  She couldn't bend her leg. Tears in her eyes, we hugged.  The day hadn't turned out the way either of has had imagined, and she's got an Ironman in six weeks!  I did my best to console her, and then she was gone.  Crossing the barricades to meet her husband for what must have been a sad ride home.

Again, I was alone.  Strangely, I had come to peace with the race by then.  I calmly resigned myself to two choices: Quit, or finish.

If I quit, nobody would blame me.  I was sick.  I was tired.  I hurt.  But, if I quit during the marathon, maybe I'd quit during the Ironman?

It's like cheating in a relationship.  If you do it once, you are capable of doing it multiple times.  That's not my style.

And there was more to it than that. Now that Stephanie and I are finally together, once and for all, I wanted to show her what I was made of.  What I really was made of.  That no matter how much the pain hurt.  Now matter how tired I was. No matter how I felt, I wouldn't EVER quit on her.   I would never quit on us.

From that moment on, at Santa Monica Boulevard and La Cienega, there was only one thing on my mind: Finish the damn marathon.

The next four miles were rough, but entertaining in a bizarre way.  West Hollywood was festive to say the least.  The crowds were boisterous and the street performances were lively.  The cross-dressing cheerleaders were definitely the highlight.

Then it was onto Beverly Hills.  Here I received a big boost from my friend and co-worker, Jason, and his wife, Jen.  They waited extra long for me to hit Wilshire and Rodeo Drive even though their friends had long past that checkpoint.  They walked a few blocks with me until I turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard again towards Westwood.  Their support and positive encouragement really made me feel good.  Despite my best efforts, I was still pretty dejected about my day.  But they helped put it in perspective that I was still going to finish something special.

Unfortunately, as much of a mental boost as that was, it quickly dissipated.  My body started to lock up and break down around mile 16.  I was walking almost full miles at this point.  I had no ability to run more than a few hundred yards before my heart rate would blow up again.

It was at this point that I saw the best familiar face possible: My longest-tenured friend, Kevin.  I've known Kevin since damn near pre-school. We've played soccer together.  We went to elementary school together.  We went to high school together.  We backpacked Europe together.  We've run half-marathons together.

And now, we've run the LA Marathon together.

Out of 25,000 runners, I literally had run into my best friend!

Kevin was having problems too with his marathon.  His knee was locking up.  And it was at this point I realized what the true point of my first marathon would be: It was a race about friendship.  Whether it was supporting my buddy Chris at the beginning, Christina in the middle, or Kevin in the end, this wasn't about performance.  It was about perspective.  About support.  About friendship.

The rest of the marathon was painful.  My feet felt broken.  My calves were incredibly tight despite wearing compression socks.  My IT band swelled.  But it was OK.  Friends such as Jennifer and Ryan showed their support near the Mormon Temple in Westwood.  Jason and Jen drove down to Brentwood to cheer me on and offer some refreshing coconut water at mile 22.  Stephanie kept me sane and motivated throughout the morning with text messages.  Corey and Maggie texted me telling me they were waiting at the finish line.

How lucky am I?

The final few miles couldn't have progressed more slowly.  My body was totally breaking down.  I'd shuffle a few yards, stop, wait for Kevin, or vice versa, and we'd continue walking. Cursing, but walking.  Questioning, but not quitting.  Never quitting.

FINALLY, the finish line was in sight.  Kevin and I tried to pick up the pace heroically, but all I was doing was searching for Stephanie, or listening for her.  That's all I wanted.  I just wanted to tell her that this race was for her.  That there was no quit in this body.  Not for the race, not for anything.

Kevin saw her first.  He pointed her out and I stopped everything to run across the packed street to give her a huge hug behind the barricade, just 10 yards from the finish.  Apparently my family and friends were right behind her, but honestly I only saw her.  It was a special moment.  All the pain and frustration was worth it.

I finished the LA Marathon, arm around Kevin.  We did it.

I will run better marathons.  I will set more personal bests.  But I don't know if I'll ever have an experience as special as my first marathon.  And I owe it to my friends.  To my family, including my parents who woke up so early after flying across the country the evening before.  To my sister and her boyfriend, who showed up just in time for the finish after having friends in town to entertain.

And, surprisingly, to the residents of Los Angeles, who lined the streets for nearly the entire route supporting us crazy marathoners.  I may not have acknowledged all of them, but I sure did hear them and appreciate their presence.  This city sure is beautiful when it wants to be.

Like the Randy Newman song, I love LA.

And today, I paid the price during recovery.  I left work early due to exhaustion even though I slept nearly 10 hours last night.  I'm still coughing up all sorts of stuff, and my legs are stiff and achey.

But it's a good kind of pain.

The kind associated with finishing something I started.

246 days and counting.

A Healthy Dose of Perspective

Y'all are probably as sick of hearing about me being sick as I am writing about it. Don't worry, I'm shutting my mouth...err... banning my fingers from typing anything to that effect.

Here's why. I had the true pleasure of attending a charity gala tonight with Stephanie and a few work colleagues on behalf of the Starlight Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping kids in hospitals with severe health issues.  The company I work for is a very proud sponsor of Starlight, donating NintendoWii Fun Centers to hospitals for kids to enjoy DVD and video games entertainment when they are confined to their rooms or beds.

After being reminded throughout the evening about the good work Starlight does, a head cold two days before a marathon means nothing by comparison.  I have functional legs.  I am grateful for that.  My organs work.  I am grateful for that.  My health issues are not life threatening.  I am grateful for that.

Normally, I'd say the highlight of any evening would be meeting Mr. T, which happened tonight along with my pal and colleague John (pictured).  For the record, Mr. T couldn't have been more gracious, considering I goaded him into his trademark phrases when I told him "You ain't so bad!"

What a dream come true for a life-long A-Team and Rocky fan!

But that really wasn't the highlight.  And I'm somewhat surprised to even admit that.  The real highlight came in the form of hearing a love-affair story of two kids in Starlight who met through their teen connect program, Starbright World.  Both kids had little to hold onto in terms of dealing with the difficulties of their situations.  Until they met each other. And befriended each other. Supported each other. Nurtured and nursed each other.  And ultimately began dating.  Now, a few years later, they got engaged.  Today.  Before the Starlight event.  It was such a touching story and moment.

Even before the gala I was planning to run on Sunday, no matter how I feel.  But now, I'm running not just for myself, but for the idea that so many other people -- kids especially -- suffer every day with so much more and have dreams even bigger than my own.  And my dreams are big!  I owe it to them to fulfill my own dreams because I have a healthy body and mind that allows me to do so.  No excuses.  I am grateful for everything I have in my life, everything around me, and grateful to even have the opportunity to run this marathon come Sunday.

I'm a very lucky guy.

249 days and counting.

T-Minus 4 Days and Nervous

My recovery from the GDC "nerd flu" is literally becoming a race against time. Coach Gerardo was hoping I'd be better by today.  He thought two days would be sufficient for a full recovery if I rested and hydrated enough.  We're headed into the fourth day and while my body is adjusting back to the beginnings of normalcy, I'm just not feeling great yet.  Despite my massage therapist Abby's best efforts, I'd put my condition as an 8 on a scale of 10.  My neck isn't as sore as last night and I've gained some mobility, but my throat is still scratchy and raw.  Worse yet, I've started coughing up phlegm.  Nasty stuff too, of the fluorescent and mocha-colored variety.

All of this is starting to get me worried.  I've got four more days to be 100% healthy and ready for my first marathon.  If what is now a head cold seeps into my chest, I'm all but finished for the marathon before it starts.

Not all of today's news was poor. In fact, I was being able to run without any side effects for 45 minutes.  My lone workout called for an hour staying within heart-rate zone 1, which was no problem -- even running up to 6 mph for five minutes without approaching 140 bpm.  (I had to cut short the workout due to a busy day at work.) That's definitely a good sign, so much so that by the end of the workout I didn't really need to shower before changing since I hadn't broken a major sweat.

Tomorrow, I'm spinning for an hour and 15 minutes and then doing an hour of yoga in the evening.  That's the plan. At this point though, I've learned that plans don't necessarily matter.  It's what you do and how you act when reality presents itself to you, ready or not.

251 days and counting.