Resolution? No. More Like Goals.

Back in the days of the old Emerald Coast Racing Team, our group would get together on Thanksgiving morning for a six-to-eight mile easy run. It was a nice way to kick off the season of feasting and sharpen up a little for the last 5K race of the year. Some time in the middle of the run we would chat about goals for the coming year; what marathon or half-marathon we wanted to run, what 5K goal time we wanted to beat in the spring...stuff like that. And even now, years after that group's dissolution, I still like to think about the accomplishments of this year and the challenges of the next, especially in the realm of running.

Not surprisingly, the topic of New Years' resolutions came to the surface while "chatting" with a few friends on a common social media site. Most of the resolutions seemed run-of-the-mill and typical for citizen athletes, with some ambition here and there. And that's a good thing.

I wrote a post about a year ago, titled "Resolved Not To Resolve," in which I swore never to engage in the overambitious, somewhat nebulous and somewhat self-defeating gesture of proclaiming a New Years' resolution. Suzanne, my wife, would probably say she's perfect as she is and wouldn't change a thing about me. The fact love is blind is good. Very good. I often hope, as a coach, friend, writer, co-worker, teacher, and supporter of all things endurance-based, to live a life that makes my fellow man see me the same way my dog sees me.

However, I'm still not going to make a resolution for the coming year, because that would suggest the fact I've failed at one or more things, slacked-off in a particular area, and decided to redouble my efforts to return to a former state of grace. Instead, I'm going to consider them as publicly-declared goals for the coming year. I hope each of you can find inspiration in one or more of the following categories:

1. Find an event, a race distance, or a venue beyond the familiar. Some places are notable for the (over-)abundance of a single event distance, or the same course every month. A friend is directing an event which consists of seven marathons in seven days between Christmas and New Years; she told me all of her participants are coming from outside the immediate area. The 5,000-meters (more or less) is king here.

When Suzanne plans a business trip, she now checks race calendars and hash kennel web sites with the same level of scrutiny as she does hotel accommodations and airline fares. If she can fit in a race, it's all that much more worthwhile. If I can't go she tries to bring me back a race shirt. If there's a really good race she asks me to consider taking time off. This year, for me, the trip race is a half-marathon in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada's capital city.

2. Give back to the community. Running is fun. Running clubs are fun. Running club politics, not so much. But that doesn't mean you can't help fold t-shirts at a packet pick-up for a race, or hand out water at an aid station. There are jobs so far back in the shadows that you may never hear someone complain, but without it the race director ends up with a half-dozen additional gray hairs.

This autumn I've taught a friend to measure courses; he gets a progressive percentage of the proceeds. If the race is for a non-profit we donate a portion of the cost back to the beneficiary (Thank you, Suzanne, for suggesting this!). Our second serious measurement job together was for a non-profit, which led to a race sponsorship, and our company's logo on the event shirt.

The national governing bodies for road racing (USATF) and triathlon (USAT) are always in need of volunteer officials to support their efforts. Nobody who gets into this makes a lot of money, much less a living, but it's - again - one of those jobs which someone has to do to give everyone else the chance to run.

3. Take care of unfinished business. A triathlon in Panama City Beach sent this writer to the emergency department for five hours a couple of years ago. The experience was enough to get into my head (not to mention my wallet) and stay there until the same time I was about 400 yards into a certain lake some five months later.

We all have one race or more that's kicked us in the chops. This year could be the year for payback. What do you have to do to make it happen? What kind of focus is it going to take? Might it involve an investment of time or a small amount of money? What's it worth to you?

4. Bring someone into the fold. I've always considered running to be the most democratic of sports. Even the most biomechanically-inefficient of us can participate, given a pair of shoes which does not damage us. The vast majority of elite runners I've met have been gracious and kind; there are jerks in the community, but no different than in "real life."

As human beings we're all social creatures. While there are people who prefer to train alone, there's still a need to be considered part of a community, even if on the periphery. Most running clubs can be selective, if they wish, about their membership, but I prefer to think the deepest circle of hell is reserved for those (social running groups) who willingly exclude others from their rolls...for no good reason.

(Forgive me, that was a "soapbox" moment.)

It might mean taking a walk with someone who doesn't run much. It could be running farther back in the pack at a 5,000-meter race. Or something drastic and out of the ordinary. Let your imagination, er, run wild. If I can accomplish all four of these goal areas I have no doubt there will be at least a few more happy people in the running community. Perhaps even in the community as a whole. What "big, hairy, audacious" goal have you slated for the new year?

Here's to a safe, mileage-filled, healthy and successful 2012!

Sometimes, Gratitude...

Once a week, for the past four years, I've taught a study-skills and test-taking seminar as part of my "real" job. The presentation method, as many who read this blog (or the articles which often come from this blog) might guess, is a blend of storytelling and instruction.

For the most part, I've enjoyed the time in the classroom; every group of 25-to-65 students - the vast majority young enough to be my child - presented its own unique "terrain" on which I take a brief 60-to-90 jaunt (back) into the academic world. Not every one of them needed to hear what I felt like saying. Strangely enough, some of them wanted to know a little more about road running or triathlon than how to beat a multiple-choice test.

This morning I received a note from the indoc staff. Curriculum additions mandated by the persons in charge of Navy training, only three miles down the street, left no room to add this (perhaps the last) hold-over from the Navy's Revolution in Training.

The change was eventual. I've been through three revisions, three cubicles, two commanding officers, two supervisors, a reduction-in-force, a defunct survey database, and a cycle in training delivery methods from instructor-led to self-paced...and back...since I started teaching this seminar. I have to admit a sense of gratitude that it is finally over.

Steven Covey, in "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People," says the first habit effective persons cultivate is to begin activities with the end in mind. I think he was talking "end state," not necessarily "end date."

Sometimes we complete a target event (marathon, half-marathon, triathlon, just to name a few) and between the time when the euphoria departs and the muscle soreness arrives we get the athletic version of the "existential dilemma": 'I completed a (blank)...now what?' Could this dilemma exist because we don't like empty schedules and blank calendar spaces? Mary-Chapin Carpenter, in "The Long Way Home," sings that many people are driven with the need to '...gotta go, gotta be, gotta get somewhere..." We don't take the time to appreciate what is now in our mental and emotional rear-view mirror; negative or positive.

So now it looks like I have an extra hour in my calendar. I'm not necessarily ready to fill in the blank with anything, at least for a couple of weeks. It's a little extra daylight time...something else for which I can be grateful.

One Big, Honking...Sometimes Dysfunctional...Family

"Ev'ryone can see we're together as we walk on by. And we fly just like birds of a feather, I won't tell no lie. All of the people around us; they say, 'can they be that close?' Just let me state for the record, we're giving love in a family dose..." - We Are Family (Rodgers/Edwards)

So, there I was, sitting in a pizza joint, participating in a running club management meeting last night. Since this was the first meeting of the year, it was time for something which resembled an election of officers. This particular club has grown to probably around a hundred members in the past two years, but it was hard to tell that by the turnout for this meeting.

Once the pizzas and beer had been served, the general manager of the group began the business portion of the meeting. The first question of the evening was whether there were enough club members or management to constitute a quorum. I gently commented after counting heads, 'well, we do have a minyan, there are ten of us here...'

We marched quietly through the process of appointing club management for the following year, in a very congenial manner. There were several necessary roles for which several of the attendees were a good fit, and a couple of others which, while absolutely necessary for the ongoing good of the group, we felt would take a cooperative effort from one or two persons to remain successful.

With the management roles having been apportioned, the general manager finished his beer, reckoned his check with the waitress, and quietly walked out of the meeting. After having divested himself of the lion's share of what what Discovery Channel's Mike Rowe would consider running's Dirty Jobs, he looked a heck of a lot more comfortable at the end of the meeting than at the beginning. However, the assembled group at the table realized this situation was closer to that of a parent passing along the honey-do list of chores to the offspring of the family than to an election of officers for a non-profit organization.

Now, all we have to do is find a way to tell the "kids."

This morning I started to think about the simple truth: Runners are one big, honking, sometimes dysfunctional family. Once you get past the small stuff - politics, jobs, education, economics - there's an astounding similarity across the board. It's all the same whether I'm in Saskatchewan or Florida, in Boston or San Diego; running 5K in a swamp or a marathon on the roads. It's the act of putting one foot in front of the other.

Repeatedly.

Preferably in a rapid fashion.

Sure, there are groups which members are insular in nature, who consider the group which looks a whole hell of a lot like theirs but meets across town to be a bunch of heathens. But, like Jew and Samaritan, it's not the place which the activity is performed that makes it important, it's going out and doing it. It's the pursuit of physical fitness, burning off the excesses or the stresses of the day which matters. It's the reminder that chronological age is sometimes a number, and the reminder there are more important numbers to focus upon than the difference between today's date and our birthdate.

Each family has it's share of "crazy uncles" we tolerate in very small doses once or twice a year, as well as prodigies for whom we cannot help but marvel at their talent. The last set of a track workout always reminds me of the painfully-obvious truth that youth is sometimes wasted on the young...or "unfairly" resides in someone a few years more senior than I. But I cannot help but crow like a proud parent at the accomplishment of a previously-unattempted distance run or the achievement of a personal best...or even the "perfect," consistent race, or an age group award...and the list goes on and on.

So, when you see that guy or girl out on the road putting one foot in front of the other, or that group of athletes sweating through a workout, or those crazy fools with whistles and mugs, some of whom might put on funny skirts, stand in a circle and sing crazy songs after chasing some dude throwing powder on the ground, give them a smile and wave hello.

Because, really, they're your distant cousins. And mine.

And - just ask any driver on the road - we are all family.

The Greeter of the Pack

Another weekend in the great out-of-doors has ended. While there's still a bit of a chill in the air, there's no doubt spring is just around the corner. While it's still difficult to get myself motivated and out the door some mornings, at least I don't feel so badly about it once I'm on the move. Suzanne managed to somehow talk me into a near-instant replay of last Saturday's run: Do three miles to a coffee joint, stop for a cup & a bite, then do three miles back to the house. Seemed like a lousy idea at first; Weather Channel had the conditions listed as in the low 40s with a wind chill in the high 30s. While I had my Garmin & my HR strap on to keep track of the important data it wasn't the be all, end all for the morning. Suzanne wanted to get out of the house for a run & she wanted to have coffee. So be it.

Fortunately, the sun was bright, the air was slowly warming up & the sidewalks even seemed like a welcoming environment. It wasn't Esplanade Avenue to Community Coffee or the 5:20 Club, but it was close enough. The very combination of ingredients, including the presence of my loving wife, was just enough to make the morning's first effort seem like just enough.
Once we got back to the house the trials of real life, such as they are in Chez' Bowen, reared their head once more: Walk the dog, get the last-minute business accomplished, fit the swim workout in & go work packet pick-up in Gulf Breeze for Sunday's Midway 8K.

Sunday was just as nice, but the solo 10-miler hurt like hell. Perhaps it was still too soon since the half-marathon to do that many miles as a long run, but I can never tell when I'm going to have a nice Sunday morning...so... Home to walk the dog, then clean up & get some breakfast before heading over to the race to set up. Okay, so I forgot my laptop & had to go back home for it; I owe the company a round of brewskies for that transgression. I never forget my "coach hat", my "RRCA rep hat", and my soapbox. And I got to use them all yesterday at the event.
A young lady asked the inevitable question about headphone use at the registration table. Beverly was almost dead-on accurate with her response; I think she's heard my sermonizing as much as Steven has. We mentioned to her that as a RRCA event club, & because our event was covered by RRCA's event insurance, we were obliged to strongly discourage her from using the headphones. However, we were only going to strongly discourage her because of the inherent safety risks; she was going to run on a course which was not completely closed to traffic. While we did have volunteer workers at as many intersections as possible (another topic for future rumination - volunteers...) we could not completely guarantee her safety in the event an insane (or even sane!) motor vehicle operator decided to suddenly overtake her.

As a small event we want to develop a clientele. We also want to help educate runners & triathletes on safe practices. The first baby step we can do, & intend to do, is mention the hazards the headphones can cause...especially if the volume is jacked up so high the wearer cannot hear. (I still laugh at the comment of the masters' winner: He was doing a cool-down on the course with his phones on, & heard my car's stereo blaring about a quarter mile away from where he was. I thanked him for keeping the volume down low enough to hear his surroundings.) It's not like we have a means to enforce such a policy right now. But if we begin to tell participants it's hazardous to use those things, perhaps when we put a prohibition statement on a race flyer they'll abide by the request.

Okay, I'm off the soapbox for now. My wife has always told me I should participate in a race from the rear of the field in order to see (as Jacob Riis might have put it:) how the other pack lives. Since the local constabulary sent only one patrolman to cover the course, the race director & I were responsible for the lead & follow vehicles. George took the lead vehicle; I had the follow. There's a whole different dynamic when you're following walkers, compared to the elbows-&-a$$#@(@s pack you see at the front end of a race. I suspected I was going to spend the next 60-to-75 minutes following along with the walk division. Close, but not close enough, moose-breath. The last participant took a little over 90 minutes. That was the bad news. Was there good news? Kinda-sorta.

The weather was wonderful. We're talking roll-the-window-down,-lean-your-elbow-out-the-window-because-hanging-your-whole-head-out-would-look-silly wonderful. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a good radio station to play outside of the local NPR stations. Ah, one of those moments where I kick myself in the butt for leaving my favorite CDs at home...& not snagging up Suzanne's iPod to plug in the accessory jack, Jack. Oh, and this lady wanted so badly to give up at the first half-mile. She turned to look at me and wave me on forward, but I told her I was the follow vehicle, & while she was the last participant she was going to make it just fine. I didn't want to tell her how badly it would bite to not finish an eight-kilometer walk. So, I rolled along just behind her with the flashers flashing, plucking up course signs after she passed.

When she got to the last half mile to go, her husband came out to walk along with her. I continued to do my thing & she continued to do hers. At the last 100 yards before the finish, I rolled along side her & called out: "You know what that feeling is right now? What you're feeling is accomplishment!"

After that, I rolled into the parking lot & made a beeline for a beer & some italian bread. My day was pretty much complete. I can't say I picked up any observations from the @$$-end of the field, save for the fact that sometimes it's just something to finish...which was more than I could say for the two teenagers who turned off the course a block ahead of the woman an hour before her finish.

The Older I Get, The Better I Was - OR - Never Kick A Man Unless He's Down

Some days, when everything seems to be going haywire, all you want is one voice of sanity in the babble. It doesn't sound like it's going to be today.

A local race promoter contacted me at the beginning of the year to ask about the exact location of some mile splits for a race, since the description I wrote on the technical map was a little confusing. I mentioned to him the concern from guys running at my pace - low-6:00/mile - about getting the location correct. I used the term "front pack" perhaps ten seconds too loosely to describe the group who asked me while we were on the course about the sign location. The discussion went from information-gathering to a you aren't all that statement.

The gentleman proceeded to pull up my local race results from previous years & compare them to the top-shelf local runners near my age-group. He also compared locals to out-of-towners. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before about out-of-town competition. In fact, I have written on several occasions the (painfully obvious) fact with our performances, many locals wouldn't get a sniff of awards in some areas of the country.

While I was down, so to speak, he provided a diagnosis (his words describe an autopsy) why the training group here I coach isn't alive any longer. He used a comparison to some local female runners who have done well, calling them modest, humble & accomplished. I guess that means I'm not, to which he could be right. Of course, one of the female runners he mentioned, as well as a few age-group triathletes, have publicly complimented my advice & counsel. So maybe he's only part wrong.
There are very few good coaches out there who were accomplished athletes. There are even fewer accomplished athletes who have become great coaches. Good coaches have a talent for getting inside the head of the individual athlete, helping them believe the work they've done in the past prepared them for the performance/s of the present. But, there are very few citizen-athletes who want to do the work to be at the level of the top-shelfers this promoter is trying to draw in to local events, mostly because of the painfully-obvious fact most local citizen-athletes need to be able to eat & sleep indoors, pay utility bills & groceries, maintain marriages & families, etc.

It's like the NCAA commercial, nearly all (of us?) are (going) professional in something else. So, the odds are good most of us will someday (if we're not doing it now) look back at our former selves & wish we could do it again, either to do it better or simply to do it.

A Sense of Normal

Since Sunday morning, I've been feeling pretty good. It's not 100-percent, and probably won't be for another three to six weeks. Sleeping is still painful, and getting up in the morning even more so. Whether this has more to do with the increased beer intake over the past week or the muscles adjusting to the increased workload is hard to say.

I actually started getting around out of the sling on Friday evening. I did not feel like having to juggle it, my cell phone, wallet, glasses, and so on. If I had to stay in it for an extended period of time a trip to Running Wild for some of those neat little Velcro-strappable add-ons would have been necessary...either that, or I'd be borrowing one of my wife's left-over chunks of cloth from her running attire modifications in order to build a lighter, more breathable sling. The Townsend is comfortable, but not when the heat index approaches triple digits.

Yesterday was my first "real" cardiovascular workout in a couple of weeks since the accident. I did some elliptical trainer the first couple of mornings after, then started to worry, especially when Roberto, one of my athletes (and a dentist) had a concerned look on his face. After that, I ditched the ET for walking. I hated that, big time. I like working out...the smell of chlorinated water in the morning, the feeling of honest fatigue as I'm sucking down that well-earned first cup of coffee (as my father would say, 'momentum...') in the office...easy days with Scott and Steve on the back side of the airport...the rare occasional set of all-out, b@lls-to-the-wall 160s with full recoveries...the sense of accomplishment at the top of the hill...

While there are aspects of training I don't care for, like having to shoehorn my bike or swim workout in between sleep and work, right now I'm not really focusing on the negative things. All I can think of is how much fun it is to be with friends and kicking butt.

I realize there's going to be a day, or a time, when the dividing slash thrown after my original descriptor, "athlete" is going to have to go away; rather than be "athlete/coach" I'll be just a coach. The past three weeks have given me a little insight on what that's going to feel like. At this point in time I'm not quite ready.

I'm ready for normal...any time now.