"...you thought you could run, but you won't take a chance."

After my DNF at Cloudsplitter 100K in October - my 2nd DNF of the year - I was left scrambling for a race to finish the year with.  I did take away one positive from Kentucky, however: I covered 50K with almost 9,000 of climbing and still had plenty of gas left in the tank.  My fitness was sharp and wanted to really test it before 2014 turned to 2015.  In comes OPSF5050.

Billed as "Indiana's Toughest Footrace," which is likely true, OPSF5050 offers a 14 mile fun run, a 50K and a 50M.  Naturally, I went with the 50M.  Knowing nothing of the race or the course, I used social media to gather information and all I got was...mud.  And hills.  But mainly mud.  This brought back nightmarish images of the 2011 HUFF, which had several stretches of ankle-deep mud.  Not to mention the waist-deep water crossings.  Both of which beat me up pretty badly.  But that's how we learn!

Overtime picked up at work, and I was slightly concerned about not getting enough mileage to turn in a respectable 50M time.  Finishing is one thing, racing and really pushing yourself is another.  Many days I had to work 6:30am - 5:00pm (on my feet all day minus breaks) and then hustle to the gym to get a 2 or 2.5 hour run in before they closed.  This made for some long days but I kept telling myself it was worth it.  Plus, I rationalized, the extra time on my feet at work was toughening up the legs!

I decided to not taper all that much, because I HATE tapering and wanted to stay sharp.  I did back to back 20s the weekend before the race, and a hard 14 on the treadmill the Monday before.  I was ready.

For ultras that require travel I usually borrow my grandparents van because it has more room than my car, plus XM radio.  I hadn't planned on doing that since I only had about a 75 minute drive, but at the last second I decided to borrow it.  I ended up taking a lot of gear just in case, and XM radio is always soothing on long drives and race mornings!

The start/finish of OPSF5050 is at a remote campground in the forest, and I arrived at about 6:00am.  I picked up my packet/bib and returned to the van to lay everything out.  Rain was not on the forecast, but MUD was.  I had planned to change shirts halfway through the race, a plan that I stuck with and certainly helped me out.  I brought different gloves and hats, too.  All of this helped me stay relatively dry and aside from some slight hand numbness after the sun went down, I was never cold during the race.

It's tough to gauge pace or a finishing time on an unknown course, so I just ran comfortably, pushing the pace in places where I could and running conservatively when called for.  I missed a left turn in the first loop and lost about 15 minutes and came into the s/f in 3:06, completing loop 1.  "OK," I thought.  "Not shabby."  I changed socks, which turned out to be pointless because my feet were wet the entire day.  Plus I wasted a few minutes simply messing with my shoes, as they were CAKED with mud.  I came back in after the 2nd loop, having covered about 29 miles in pretty much right at 6:00.  Over 50% done!  Only a little more than 20 miles left!

Shortly after I started the 3rd loop, I started to feel bad.  My energy was waning and my breathing was getting harder and harder.  Not good.  I hydrated and devoured two peanut butter and honey sandwiches and a gel, and after about 10 minutes my energy returned!  Never underestimate the power of peanut butter.  I was still cruising along, never pushing too hard and never letting any negative thoughts into my head.  I am a firm believer that negative thoughts affect physical performance.  I knew it would be a grind and just kept telling myself the finish line is the ultimate reward.  And, unlike IT50, this 50miler had music (my iPod crapped in April so I ran about 45 miles without tunes...ugh).  It was just me, Phish and the trail.

I came in from the 3rd loop at about 9:32, ahead of the cutoff and still feeling great.  I downed a shot of Yerba Mate energy (thanks Bob Lynch for opening it for me!), a Clif Bar and a gel and was ready to head out for my last abbreviated (8 miles) loop.  I went out and had to come back because I forgot my gloves...that would have been a nightmare, I think.

The sun was starting to go down and it was getting chillier.  Overall I felt pretty good, minus some occasional twinges in my calves.  After each loop I made sure to drink Pedialyte and I think that helped stave off cramps.  I hit the last aid station with about 3 miles left and they asked if I needed anything.  I downed two cups of Heed and said "No thanks, I'm ready to finish this bad boy up."  I turned on my headlamp and made my way to the finish.

The last leg of the course is fairly technical, compounded by the fact that it was dark and I am not the strongest night runner to begin with.  I walked 90% of it, given the hills and the mud.  I was not about to face plant in the mud or lose a shoe IN THE DARK and have to stop and look for it.  I was cruising along and finally came to the sign that said "start/finish" with an arrow to the right.  I said to myself "fuck yeah!" and picked up steam to the finish.  There were several volunteers there and they cheered me home as I finished in about 11 hours and 45 minutes.  The energy and support was amazing!  I can't say enough about how great the aid stations were all day.

When I stopped running I started shivering, so I sat down by the fire to try and warm up.  Sipping Pedialyte, I was still shivering so I finally went out to the van, cranked up the heat and changed into dry clothes (duh).  I gathered my stuff, thanked the volunteers and left at about 8:00pm.

All in all, I am very pleased with my performance.  It certainly lived up to the billing of "Indiana's toughest footrace."  I also made a few new friends, which is always a highlight of any ultra.

No more races for 2014...unless someone talks me into running the HUFF.  I'll use Land Between the Lakes 50M in March as a tuneup for IT100 in April, which I plan on making my first 100 mile race!

OPSF5050...definitely on the radar for next year! 

(Photo credits to Indiana Trail Running)

"Let's Get Down to the Nitty Gritty...Let's Get This Show on the Road"

I caught wind of the 2013 IT100/50 last March, but had already committed to Planet Adventure's 50K at Winona Lake in early April.  I'm not big on running two ultras so close together, so I passed on IT100/50.  However, I vowed to make it my first 50M event of 2014.  

The long, cold winter was tough on everyone...but I really tried to not let it affect my training.  I sucked it up and spent lots of time on the treadmill and running stairs at my gym.  I also took spin classes and rode the spin bike by myself more.  All of this helped me get through the Land Between the Lakes 60K in horrendous conditions.  Miles and miles of slop and water to trudge through.  But as many ultra runners allude to, it builds character and helps you out in tough times down the road.  

Met up with a few nice folks here!

 I spent the Friday morning before the race at work, finishing up some post-inventory work.  Once I left there, I was able to gather my things and hang with a friend for awhile.  We ate at Pizza Hut and just generally goofed off and had a great time together, which put me in a light, breezy mood.  I hit the road for Chain O' Lakes (in Albion, IN) a tad later than I wanted, but arrived there at 7:30pm and decided to push my luck for packet pickup (which ended at 7pm).  Thankfully, RD Mike took the time to get my packet.  Of course, I left my bib there, but he messaged me immediately and I was able to snag it the next morning.  Settled into the hotel in Columbia City and was asleep, I think, by 10:30pm.  

2014 IT 100/50

 Promising weather and trail conditions had me totally geeked for the race.  Using my confidence from LBL60K and my winter/early-spring training, I was obsessed with running a sub-9:00:00 50M.  I had not run this course since the 2011 HUFF, which ended with me in the hospital the following evening with severe dehydration.  I believe this was due to pushing my body past its limits because of the brutal trail conditions (mud, water) and not hydrating properly post-race.  But that was then.  This was now.  I was ready.  

The race kicked off at 6am amidst a steady flow of headlamps leading out of the start chute and onto the trails.  It was dark, but the sun would be up within an hour.  The temperature was perfect and the trails were in superb condition.  My game plan was to run the first loop conservatively, possibly even right at 3:00:00, then start chipping away at the next two loops by periodic surges and attacking the hills.  I was placing my faith in all the treadmill incline and stairclimbing work I had done since the start of 2014.   I also firmly believe that all the time I had spent in the dry sauna at the gym had transformed my body into a super-efficient sweating and cooling machine.  

Beautiful weather!

I made sure to hit every aid station and drink at least two cups of Gatorade, and to fill my water bottle with water.  I snacked on fig newtons and PBJ sandwiches (cut into quarters).  I also had gels, Clif Bars and B12 energy shots with me in my pack.   

Instead of using a drop bag, I had supplies in my vehicle, so as I neared the end of the first loop I simply peeled off the course for a few yards, loaded up and got back onto the course.  This involved grabbing my iPod and firing it up.  Great!  Tunes, rhythm, zoning out and getting into a groove...for 8 miles.  It died halfway through the loop, so I was back to listening to my own thoughts.  Since I usually train with an iPod, this was unfamiliar territory.  But I adapted and settled in for the miles that lay ahead.  
 
Loop 2 ended with 5:54:38 showing on the clock, so I had 3 hours and 5 minutes to cover 16.67 miles.  My legs were feeling OK and mentally I was feeling strong, but I wasn't sweating as much as I normally did...and that concerned me.  I gulped a little more Powerade and water at my vehicle than I normally would have, praying my stomach could handle it.  Taking off onto the trails, I was repeating to myself "You want sub-9? You fucking go get it.  Do it right now."  
 

Found myself in a great groove all day. 

 I made a real effort to push the pace when I could, wondering when The Beast would show up.  I was ready to do some wraslin' with her.  She never made an appearance, so I kept hammering at a steady, consistent pace.  The miles rolled on, and I could feel myself tiring but I would not take anything over 9 hours.  I just wouldn't.  I hit the last aid station at 8:25:29, leaving me 34 minutes to cover 2.67 miles.  Barring a catastrophe, that sub-9:00:00 50M was mine.  
I ascended a few steep hills leading out of the aid station and then settled back into the groove that had gotten me through the first 48 miles.  I was coming up fast on a runner ahead of me, and as we both climbed a hill, he looked back and saw me.  He broke into a run and pulled away.  I tried to catch him but he was too strong.  Even though he had escaped, I met my overall goal of clocking under 9 hours, which I did when I crossed the finish line at 8:54:01.  Jubilation, exhaustion, relief, gratitude and ecstasy were among the emotions that overwhelmed me.  Upon receiving my finisher's medal ("Always earned, never given"), I walked around for a few minutes away from the runner's tent to gather my thoughts.  I wept briefly and silently.  Tears of joy and gratefulness to be able to do what I love, which is to explore my body and mind's limits.  I also wept because I thought of my friends and family, who have been nothing but supportive in my journey into the ultra world.  
The next morning I returned to the park, chipper and with minimal soreness.  It was breathtaking to watch a few 100M finishers, who had endured all night to cross that finish line, many whom had been on the course over 24 hours.  
As I drove home, I reflected on what a wonderful, rewarding weekend it was...while also planning my assault on the Park2Park Relay Ultra in June.  Onward and upward!  

Ultra #9 in the books.

All smiles post-race!

***  Special thanks to all the volunteers that made this event happen, not least of which the ones at the school house aid stations that sprayed me down with sunblock on multiple occasions.  Thanks!   ***

"Set the gearshift for the high gear of your soul..."

Farmdale didn't actually materialize until mid-last week.  I was set on running 8 Hours of Payne down at Paynetown SRA in Bloomington until the Federal government said "Ah, not so fast."  But since I was already in "race mode" after the sting of not running in Heritage Trail 26.2 on 9/29, I went scrambling for another race on short notice.  Someone on the FB group Indiana Trail 50 and 100 mentioned Farmdale in Illinois.  After some research, logistical planning and a few emails back and forth with the race director...I was in!

Originally intended to be run at Farmdale Reservoir in Peoria, this race was moved to Jubilee State Park 15 minutes away the week of the event.  I cannot praise the race directors enough, as I can't imagine how hard changing venues at the last minute would be. So I packed up and left Crawfordsville Friday afternoon.

It was a 5am start, and because I had so much gear/fuel/supplies I borrowed a bitchin' 2005 Pontiac minivan from my grandparents to sleep in.  Arrived at the campsite (which was 2-3 minutes from the start/finish) at around 6pm local time and got settled in.  I went and registered, got my bib, came back and finally fell asleep around 9:30pm. Alarm set for 3:00am to allow for plenty of time to sip coffee and stretch and just basically mentally prepare myself for running 50 miles.

Slept better than I thought I would.  After a quick hot shower to get the muscles loosened up, I drive 5 minutes to the next town over to get some coffee (A MUST).  Arrived back at the start/finish around 3:45am, with a full 75 minutes until start.  Got my gear together, snacked a little bit, stretched and then went over to the s/f at about 4:40.

The course was 7 loops of 7+ miles.  I had no idea on the elevation or the terrain, which made for a very apprehensive and slow first loop.  Mix in that we ran in the dark and it sprinkled on us a few times, and I was very uneasy and shocked when I looked down at my watch after the first loop and it said 90 minutes.  Of course, this can be attributed to the hills and elevation gains.  I would later learn - after overhearing a fellow 50-miler comment on his Garmin stats - that the vertical climbing totaled about 9,000 feet. 

After what felt like an eternity, the sun finally came up and I was able to ditch the headlamp and fully view my surroundings.  Since I thought it was unsafe to run an unfamiliar course in the dark while listening to music, I didn't actually put on my headphones until the start of the 3rd loop, some 3 hours after starting.  But once the tunes were cranked and I was able to hone in my focus, I locked into a great groove and the miles were churning by at a pretty steady pace.

A good assessment of how "tired" I am during any long run is the moment when my breathing starts to become heavy or labored.  Because I'm not running all that fast, in theory my breathing should be deep and forceful but I never anticipate being out breath until the late stages of a race.  Fortunately, this proved to be true on Saturday.  I climbed all of the steep and long hills in a walk, and I never noticed my breathing was labored on those climbs until after 40 miles.  And for what it's worth, I didn't use the "hands on my knees or hips while climbing a hill" method until sometime after the 45th mile.

The miles rolled on, and as my watch passed the 9th and 10th hours, I knew I was closing in on finishing.  With races above 50K, it's more about survival than anything.  It's a mental game between your brain and your body.  Your body wants to stop, but your head says to keep going.  Who will win the war of attrition?  I kept replaying in my mind over and over crossing the finish line and being able to say "I finished my 3rd 50-miler."  That alone pushed me through in 10 hours and 43 minutes, good enough for 4th place overall and 2nd in my age group.

39 runners started the race, and 27 of them finished.  Of those 27, only 17 finished in under the "suggested (?)" 13-hour cutoff time.

Roughly 48 hours later I'm feeling a bit sore, battling two large blisters on my right foot, but overall I feel pretty good.  Ready for my next challenge...whatever that may be.

MJ at 50

Michael Jordan turns 50 today.  As part of a generation that grew up while he was peaking in the NBA (and tormenting the Pacers), it's just another reminder of how old I am and the quiet but steady passage of time.  I have two very distinct MJ memories I'd like to share.

The first one came in June of 1991.  I was 9 1/2 years old and on summer break.  We had a basketball hoop in my driveway, so my sister and I were just starting to develop our legendary one-on-one games that culminated in screaming and, occasionally, punches and hair pulling.  The Chicago Bulls, meanwhile, had finally gotten past the road block that was the Detroit Pistons and were playing in the NBA Finals against Magic in his last hurrah. 
To say I was an MJ fan was an understatement.  I was not alone; any boy or girl who loved the game of basketball loved MJ.  That's just the way it was.  I didn't know any different.  He revolutionized the game while completely dominating it.  My grandfather - who owned a sporting goods store downtown - always made sure I had the latest Nike shoes and apparel.  I will always love him for that.  Included in that apparel was this jacket that reeked of badassery:

Anyway, the night the Bulls were to clinch their first title, I asked my parents to wake me up so I could watch, enjoy and share the revelry with MJ.  The game was in LA, so it was a late tip and a late finish.  Nevertheless, my parents did as I asked.  I staggered out to the living room, half-asleep and confused.  "What's going on?" I wondered.  "Why did they drag me out here?"  I could not make sense of the situation, even though they did exactly what I had asked them to do.  To this day I wish I had been more awake so I could have fully comprehended and appreciated the situation. 

Fast forward almost 12 years to April of 2003.  I'm a junior at Manchester College.  MJ had since retired twice and was on his third tour of duty terrorizing the NBA with his drive and will to win - even at 40.  His final NBA game was on April 16th, and I was writing a paper in my dorm room that night.  I was watching the game on my little 13" TV, which thankfully was next to my laptop, switching back and forth from the NBA to whatever paper I was writing at the time.  The minutes dwindled down, and opposing coach Larry Brown orchestrated it such that MJ could receive one final curtain call while exiting the game.  Washington's crowd gave him a standing ovation for a full three minutes.  I sat there, wide-eyed, staring at the screen.  Then, the tears started to flow.  I was choking up and could not control myself.  At the time, perhaps I didn't realize why I was so emotional, but now I realize that it was because it marked the end of my childhood.  My favorite basketball player of all-time - the guy I used to emulate in the driveway as the sun was going down - was never to play a game in the NBA again.  My adolescence had come and gone, and I was on my way to adulthood.

So as I sit here 10 years after bawling like a kid in Schwalm Hall, I revert back to what Trey Anastasio said on December 31st, 1995:  "The years just keep sliding by, don't they?"

Happy birthday, MJ. 

Dripping in This Strange Design...

Been a few months since my last post...summer has come and gone and now fall is rearing its (sometimes ugly) head.  It is a chilly, wet Saturday morning as I type this. 

I've always struggled with the changing of the seasons.  Spring and summer provide plenty of sunlight, long warm days, bright colors, and hot temps that are a runner's dream.  But alas, as with everything, nothing stays the same.  Plants start to die, the colors turn drab, the temps fall and things just don't seem as lively during the fall months.  I do love bonfires, running through leaves and enjoying the scenery that any given fall day in Montgomery County provides, but...I struggle with the change.  I do like consistency and routines.  I am, indeed, a creature of habit. 

One high point this fall came on Sunday, September 30th.  The Heritage Trail Marathon - put on by the fine folks at Planet Adventure Race - provided a fast and flat course to PR on.  Only my 3rd full trail marathon, the course was so fast and non-technical I obliterated my other two times (4:56 in June at Tell City and 5:18 in August at Eagle Creek) by well over an hour with a 3:50.  Not to mention a negative split: 1:58 out and 1:52 back.  Smart, positive running. 

The only bad thing to come out of that day was a nice gash I opened on my head around mile 16:

It hurt like hell for the first few minutes, as I picked up a leaf or two in an attempt to stop the bleeding.  No such luck, and apparently all the aid stations were chattering on the radio about a bloodied runner heading their way!  The staff of Planet Adventure and a Fort/WL Parks Dept employee, as well as a fellow runner, were VERY kind and compassionate when helping me after I finished.  I will never forget their assistance! 

Much like the seasons, another big change in my life took place as I had to say goodbye to someone very near and dear to my heart.  Not death-related, but heart related.  She played a very big role in my happiness over the past year, but sometimes two people aren't meant to be a couple, lovers, or even friends.  Sometimes, that's just the way things are and wrapping your mind around that is one of life's most difficult tasks.  You can accept it and move on, but it doesn't make it easier.  I love her with all my heart and always will.  She knows who she is and what she will always mean to me.  I wish her health and happiness.  <3

Looming on the horizon...The HUFF50K on 12/29 and Purdue men's basketball.  Both have the potential to be better than expected or huge disasters!  Purdue will take their lumps against the upper-echelon teams in the B10, and so I'm hoping for a .500 finish in league play with an 18-20 win season.  Maybe not an NCAA tournament team, but perhaps an NIT team.  Would love to get to WL this year to see the newcomers play!
 Until next time...one foot follows the other, one foot follows something new. 

Knockin' on Heaven's Door.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself.  "Who put those stairs there?"

I was plodding along in this morning's Eagle Creek trail marathon - 26.2 miles of trails that make Turkey Run look like Milligan Park - and I noticed the set of rickety wooden stairs up ahead.  With less than 3 miles to go, I wanted nothing more than to coast into the finish chute, fling my shoes and socks off and enjoy the misting tent of cool water Planet Adventure had set up for finishers.  But alas, 'twas not to be. 

I groaned, strained and took a few deep breaths before running (which gradually dissolved into a fast walk...and then a walk...and then a slow walk) up them.  "It's your last obstacle to conquer before it opens up.  Get up these and you'll be fine."  Easier said than done, dipwad. 

The day had started inauspiciously.  Upon opening the hatch of my Dad's vehicle, we discovered that I had forgotten my 96oz Camelbak backpack.  Oof.  The big boy.  Nowhere to be seen on a morning where the humidity was hovering in the 80s.  After a brief discussion, we determined that it was pointless to fret about it, as it was lying in the back seat of my car 45 minutes away.  I hatched a new race strategy, stretched, and we mosied on over to the start/finish line. 

Beginning (almost) promptly at 7:30, I felt good in the early miles.  Like...real good.  My splits - while I was actively trying not to look at them - were in the 11:15-11:45/mile range, which had me feeling pretty chipper.  I had set a pre-race goal of 4:30:00, but that was in optimum conditions.  These were not optimum conditions.  The air was thick and heavy...downright sultry. 

At around 10 miles, I slowed considerably.  I was feeling the effects of my lack of mileage due to the intensely hot June and July we experienced in Indiana.  Sure, I could have made up the miles on the treadmill.  But treadmill running vs. trail running are worlds apart, and I paid the price today. 

I came around and finished my first loop - 13.1 miles - in around 2:18.  Not overly concerned, I chalked it up to the humidity.  I took water from my Dad, ate half a banana and set out for loop two.  I had my handheld refilled and took a large water bottle with me as well, but had to ditch it after about 2 miles after discovering I simply couldn't run efficiently while trying to carry it (and 3 gels). 

We hop onto 56th St for a little less than a mile at miles 3-4, 9-10, 16-17 and 22-23.  Those last two were spent cooking in the sun, with absolutely no relief.  My plan was to make up some time there, but it fell apart as I was growing more weary with each mile.

At the 20 mile aid station, a woman met me about 25 yards before the station and took my handheld to fill up.  She said "You look better than some of the other runners that have been through here before you."  Whether there was any truth to that, I don't know.  But I loved hearing it and, at that point, needed to hear it. 

I set off on the last 10K as the strains of the June 28th, 2000 version of "Bathtub Gin" began.  Not an audience copy, but an actual soundboard copy.  My stride quickened and my head lifted.  The jam kicked in and Trey's melodic soloing - along with Mike dropping some huge bombs, Fish keeping a steady beat and Page laying down some fat chords - kept me going. 

The heat was bearing down on us, and my focus was now on putting one foot in front of the other.  My breathing had labored and I had to put my hands on my knees and semi-crawl up some of the remaining hills.  Jesus.  Why do I do this again?

I arrive at the last aid station - 1.1 miles from the finish - and took a shot of HEED and proceeded to make my way to the end.  There was no one within hundreds of yards of me in either direction (which is good...I didn't feel like bruising someone's ego or having my own ego bruised with a photo finish...oh who are we kidding, I love bruising ego's out on the trail). 

As the sounds of the PA announcer and music fill the air, I turn left into a clearing about 200 yards from the finish.  I see my Dad - a very welcome sight at this point in time - standing there encouraging me.  I give him a thumbs up and saunter across the finish line in 5:18:43.  Over 45 minutes past my goal time and 22 minutes slower than Tell City - a course with 8,800' of climbing! 

Today wasn't about timing or placing.  It was about redemption.  I had to live with last year's DNF for 12 months, and today was about shedding that monkey.  My 11th race of marathon-distance or more was not my best, but I am happy to be able to run as much as I do.  And for that, I am thankful. 

Have a cup of coffee and catch your breath.

I had a very weird dream last night.  They (who, exactly?) say all dreams have meaning.  What, then, does this one mean? 

I open the door to step outside into near whiteout conditions.  It's cold, dark, and I can barely see.  The wind is howling, it's snowing, and there's several inches of snow on the ground.  I am in a hurry, and I run to my car and start it up.  I let it run for a bit, and then carefully start driving down the road.  But...something is wrong.

The car doesn't seem to be moving as fast as it should be.  I accelerate, but pick up no speed.  It's almost like something is weighing me down.  "Could just be the extreme cold," I thought.  "But why does my car feel so...so...heavy?" 

And then I see it.

It was not noticeable at first, as I did a double take.  It was hanging down off the roof onto my windshield.  A white paw.  Not just any white paw.  A very LARGE white paw.  The size of a child's baseball mitt.  With black padding.  "Ummmm, what the...?"

I slowed down to less than 10 mph and rolled down my window and, as carefully and quietly as I could, stuck my head out of the window and peeked up onto the roof. 

Yep.  A polar bear was on the roof of my car. 

There it was, taking up the entire roof of my car, just sleeping.  I rolled up the window and tried to comprehend what, exactly, was happening.  I picked up a little speed and then applied the brakes sharply, wondering if I'd see him roll down onto the front of my car.  No such luck.  The paw disappeared, and I wondered if he was stirring...

...and he was.  I could hear the roof of my car groaning and straining under his enormous weight.  Panic was setting in at this point.  This had to be a dream, it had to be!  I watched as the speedometer crept up to 40, then 50mph and I suddenly braked and turned left sharply.  I slid for what seemed to be an eternity and looked over my right shoulder as the bear flew off of the roof, rolled several times into the snow, and disappeared.  I had no idea where I was but all I knew was that I was back on the road and a polar bear was no longer on the roof of my car.

Thought all day about what it could mean, but could not figure it out.

One Foot Follows the Other, One Foot Follows Something New

* sips coffee*

Oh, hello there.  5+ months since my last update.  The winter doldrums have, thankfully, come and gone.  WORST.  WINTER.  EVER.  Just a "blah" feeling I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried.

Currently I'm watching "Breakfast at Wimbledon" and trying to figure out what I want to do today.  Run this morning in humid but not hot temps?  Hang around the pool with Calli?  Hit the gym and work in some stairs and bike work?  Why not all three?

What's happened since my last post?

1)  Purdue's basketball team finished up a mediocre B10 season and played Kansas - eventually national runner-up - quite well in the NCAA tourney.  It's sad to think I won't see Rob Hummel in a Purdue jersey anymore, but with any luck we'll be watching him in the NBA thanks to the T'Wolves.  Excited to see the new crop of players come in and want to stomp IU to shut their mouthy fans up.
2)  Ran Winona Lake again in April.  50 miles worth of trails, 30 of which were covered in a steady rain.  Dropped last year's time, and a morning start certainly helped, as I didn't have to finish in the dark with a lamp on my head. 
3)  Completed first trail marathon last month down in Tell City.  8,800' worth of elevation gain, which is simply ridiculous and challenging.  Ducked in under the 5hr mark with a few minutes to spare.  A great road trip all-around, as my friend Shanna accompanied me down there.  Fun times.

 Work is good, running is good, life is good.  Looking forward to continuing a great summer of hard running and seeing where it leads me. 

"Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own; sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction."

Pantomime Mixutres of Heaven and Earth

My foray into trail running didn't begin in earnest until only recently; say, within the past year or year and a half. The bulk of my running up until that point consisted of countless hours on the treadmill and running up and down the sidewalks and streets of whatever town I inhabited (Lafayette or Crawfordsville).  Now don't get me wrong: I love running and the countless physical and emotional benefits that come with it.  But it would be safe to say that more than once I was getting bored with my usual daily routine.  Burnout followed boredom, the dreaded "B" word every runner wants to avoid.  

In the fall of 2010, I started to mix things up and started changing my running scenery.  I went off road, through parks and trails and paths not seen by cars or your average person.  I traveled to Shades and Turkey run and various other places that were covered in rolling hills, dense forests and bubbling creeks.  This training and my love of seeking peace and harmony with nature culminated in my 50 mile, 9 1/2 hour romp through the trails at Winona Lake, Indiana in April 2011.  As I passed through the chutes mere minutes before midnight, exhausted and exhilarated, I was convinced that I could not feel more one with myself and the Earth.

Or so I thought.  

Then came the Eagle Creek Trail Marathon/Half Marathon, on the evening of January 28th, 2012.

The week leading up to this event had been an unusual race week for me.  I had ended up in the hospital about a month beforehand with severe dehydration, requiring 3 units of IV fluid.  I had never felt that bad in my life, and it really put a scare into me.  It had convincingly put a hamper on my training, as I was scared to push myself for fear of going into a hydration deficit.  While I did the Bop to the Top triple step with no problems on 1/21, I made the decision to take an entire week off from anything running or cross training-related.  It was a highly unusual move going into a half marathon, one to be run on the trails at night taboot.  I told myself that since I had taken the entire week off before to be careful, do not get sucked into "race pace" and to just enjoy myself and the scenery. 

As Saturday rolled around, I hastily gathered my gear (another unusual move for me, for most events I'm super prepared ahead of time) and hit the road around 4:00pm.  I arrived around 4:45pm, leaving me plenty of time to soak in the sights and sounds of Eagle Creek in the dead of winter  A biting wind skipped off the reservoir and dropped the temperature at least 10 degrees.  Running events - particularly trail ones - inspire a sense of camaraderie among everyone involved, and as I stretched and headed to the start line I couldn't help but smile at my surroundings.

The sun was starting to go down by 6:00pm and as the cow bell went off signalling the start, hundreds of runners slowly began herding like cattle through the chute and into the woods.  

"Ho hum," I thought, as I fell into line on the single-track trail early into the race.  Tunes filled my ears as I could hear the whooping and hollering of other runners in front of and behind me.  An easy pace had me feeling pretty good as I watched the trail flow under my feet with each stride.  

And then it happened.  

After curling and winding through the trees near the reservoir, we hit a clearing before crossing it on an earthen dam made of gravel.  We were about 2 miles into the 6.54 mile loop (2 loops for the 1/2 marathoners, 4 for fulls).  Water stretched for hundreds of yards on either side, and I looked west and saw the sun peeking out from over the horizon.  It was a fireballish mixture of orange and red, blending in with the now dark sky as it made its escape into the night.  We wound around to the right off of the dam and ran along on gravel and I looked back to my right and saw hundreds of headlamps lighting up the distance.  They moved slowly but with a purpose, all lined up in a row as if they knew exactly where they were going.  It looked as though there were dozens of fireflies bouncing in rhythm.  It was at that exact moment where I realized that there was nowhere else I'd rather be than outside, enjoying what nature and the universe has to offer. 

We peeled back into the woods and our next few miles consisted of snowy, mud-covered rolling trails that cut through trees and lined the reservoir.  Small, steep inclines met us every so often, followed by sporadic descents on icy and slick stairs.  Since I was not "racing," my breathing was not labored but rather very comfortable.  I found a steady groove and kept it, as the ocassional runner passed me.  Ordinarily this would drive me insane, but I found solace in my pace and surroundings.  As the trail pressed on, I found myself more and more at one with the park.  My vision and world was confined to the 8-10 feet of light in front of me, a both scary and exciting prospect.  

Before long, around the 5 1/2 mile mark, we hit a long stretch 2-3" mud-filled trail.  My HUFF50K experience had taught me one thing: if you're in a groove, keep going.  Don't let anything stop you.  I kept my pace through the mud, feeling the squishing of the mud beneath my shoes as I clinched my fists and kept going.  My lamp shone brightly and reflected off of the puddles of standing water near and around the trenches of mud.  When I thought it'd never end, we hit solid ground and came down a hill and you could hear the music over the loudspeakers.  It was the start/finish line, and the chute was lined with spectators and lights.  Set up in the middle of a park in the middle of the winter at night, I thought "Was I in the circus?  Am I dreaming?"  It was totally surreal.  I was expecting clowns and monkeys and a ringmaster with a megaphone, but instead I got a large, bright time clock with red LED numbers and two disco balls on each side...

My second lap confirmed all of my thoughts and emotions from the first lap.  With each passing step, I felt as though I was floating through the park.  It was a clear night, and stars filled the sky.  When passing over the reservoir the second time, the absence of trees created a canvas splattered with clouds and tiny sparkling stars that encapsulated my entire line of vision in front of me.  I felt like I was running straight into a Van Gogh painting.  Each step I took was more purposeful than the last, as if each one could do no wrong no matter what.  I covered the trails, the hills, the stairs, and the mud as if I knew exactly what I was doing and where I was going.  Like my mind and body were in sync and on autopilot, moving forward without even thinking.  I came down into the final clearing with a final burst of speed came upon the chute lined with lights and spectators and music.  I crossed the finish line and slowed to a walk, collected my medal (a medal made of wood from the park) and my thoughts.  I was breathing a little heavier now, and my breath rose up into the chilly air and disappeared above the light of my headlamp.  I looked around at all the activities, friendships, love, and humanity and realized that I had just run the most magical, serene run of my life.  This is what trail running is all about.  I felt like I could run another 13.1, and I was reminded of an old quote from Born to Run: "When you run on the Earth and with the Earth, you can run forever."

This event was more about finding myself than about running.  Attempting to discover what I want, who I want, and what everything means.  I felt like I accomplished a lot of things during my 2+ hours running at Eagle Creek, and I believe what I learned - patience, tolerance and perseverance - will help me as I move forward with the inevitable challenges I face in life. 

It's you, Joy...it's you.

"You can't imagine all the times that I tried
To uncover the source of the tears that you cried
Let's throw it away and just go for a ride
And you'd say okay but you'd keep it inside
And I tried, I tried.  I tried...I tried."

Do you ever wonder why two people cross paths?  I mean really, really think about why - out of close to 7 billion people in the entire world - your path crossed paths with another person?  Was it fate?  Destiny?  Serendipity?  It's all three.  Everything happens for a reason.  As cliche as it is, it's true. 
There are things that bring people together.  Running is one of them.  You can throw away all your worries and just go exploring.  Soak in the trees, creeks, the fall air, the crisp leaves on the ground...  Even the person you're running with can paint a beautiful, wondrous picture: hair bouncing slightly in the breeze; slow, rhythmic breath in time with yours; the pitter patter of their footsteps seemingly in sync with every step you make. 
When two people are running, even silence is a sign of things.  It's a sign of being comfortable with one another.  As desperate as you may be for them to open up, the silence can be as equally telling. 

"I never thought I could have it so good
You were the song that my soul understood
That time is a river that flows through the woods
And it led us to places we both understood
Would be gone before too long, would be gone before too long."


Everyone is terrified of the unknown.  Everyone.  It's natural, normal human instinct to be scared of what you don't know.  The best part?  Going through the unknown with someone else. 
Maybe it's where two people are at in their lives that bring them together.  Maybe it's because they're polar opposites.  Or maybe it's because they have everything under the sun in common.  But whatever it is, if you find yourself grateful that that person - one in 6 billion - is in your life, don't give up on them.  Ever.  

"When we were young we thought life was a game
But then somebody leaves you and you're never the same
All of the places and people belong 
to the puzzle but one of the pieces is gone 
and it's you
It's you, it's you Joy, it's you."

As children and young adults, we take take friendships for granted.  We take time and life for granted.  As you age, you start to realize how important relationships are.  Life is scary, and no matter what, you're always going to need someone to turn to.  Whether it be a friend, a lover, a wife, a husband, a sister, a co-worker, or just a person you meet by happenstance. 
As an adult, you realize that relationships, time, and life do not last forever.  They just don't.  People die, people move, and people - for whatever reason - make the decision to stop connecting with other people.  If someone leaves your life, you immediately question it.  Why did they do that?  Was it something I did?  Could I have done something different?  What about me as a human being caused this?  The choice you face is whether or not let them go or hang on for dear life. 

There have been many people in my life that I have let go and been OK with that decision.

But there's one person who recently came into my life that I am trying desperately to hold onto.  As a friend, a confidant, someone to laugh with, someone to talk with, and someone to turn to when I'm hurting.

It comes back to fate, destiny and serendipity.

If it's meant to be, it will be.  If not, the two paths will diverge into space and time, never to cross again.  

I Want A Round Room At the End of the Day.

Music is a lot of things to a lot of different people.  It can bring out a wide range of emotions and evoke several memories from last week to 10 years ago.  It's an escape.  It's a motivator.  Your favorite music, if listened to right, can be a different experience each and every time you listen, even if it's the same song over and over.  Sometimes you'll hear things that weren't there before.  Some of my favorite songs, such as "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" by CS&N, "Hold Me" by Fleetwood Mac and "Shine a Light" by the Rolling Stones are prime examples of this.  

But it's no secret that Phish is my favorite band.  They are not for everyone.  They're not top-40, they're not catchy, you don't know what you're getting when you go see them live, they're not radio-friendly and they're not all that accessible.  Which is precisely why I like them.  I stumbled across them in the fall of 1999, thanks to the help of my good friend Kurt Mattocks, whose older brother was a fan.  It soon turned into an obsessive hobby: snapping up studio albums, traveling to see shows, posting on message boards (A LOT), meeting new people, and just generally immersing myself in the Phish subculture.  Although my obsession has waned slightly, they are still, without question, my favorite band.  

I believe in a lot of things.  Fate.  Destiny.  Love at first sight.  Patience.  The power of positive thinking.  Being yourself no matter what (this one took me awhile to discover, and it's something I'm still working on to some degree).  I also believe that - no matter how cliche this is - everything happens for a reason.  At any given point in our lives, we're exactly where we're supposed to be.  No matter what.  Things get better.  Things get worse.  Ups and downs.  John Wooden said "Avoid the peaks and valleys."  Even keel.  If you do that, you're exactly where you're supposed to be. 

Round Room is the name of a song from Phish's 2002 album of the same name.  It came at a very interesting point in my life.  A point of maturity and self-discovery.  A time I made friends for life and lost a dear friend as well.  Phish had broken up in October of 2000, just as my obsession was building, and they had announced a comeback in the summer of 2002.  They were to play a NYE show on December 31st, 2002, and that same month they released Round Room.  It was a hastily recorded album, done in a few weeks.  The feel and the vibe from the album is evident of that.  But it is chock full of interesting music, particularly from a lyrical perspective (something Phish does not get enough credit for, in my opinion).  Trey and Tom really brought some good stuff to the table, but ironically enough, my favorite song is from Mike:

My room is round when I lay down, when I wake up it's square
When I go outside it's on a spiral set of stairs.
The people that surround me are waiting out there
In a round room they can't find me anywhere.

Right angle rooms drive me crazier each day
Put me in a box I know I'm never going to play.
Put me in a square room and I won't know what to say
I want a round room at the end of the day.

I had an apartment, four corners on the walls
Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep there at all.
I want a curve to the place where I stay
I want a round room at the end of the day.

If I pass out take me to the round church
Where echoes resound
And my spirit is found.
And when I float high
Take my arm and I'll fly you by
The outskirts of town, to a garden that's round.

I went to the lighthouse and I liked the view
I looked out the window and I could see you.
Put me in a square house and I won't have a clue
I want a round room just to be with you.

One could classify this as a nonsensical song about lighthouses and gardens and weird-shaped rooms, but I like to think it's a simple love song.  A man is happy because he can simply look out the window and see the woman he is smitten with.  I do not think it's a coincidence that I met someone that same year with whom I am still friends with and think very fondly of.  Our lives have taken quite different yet oddly similar paths, and I also think this is no coincidence.  We seem to have our ups and downs, and can go many months (sometimes years) without seeing or speaking with one another, but at the end of the day, I find myself thinking of her and only her.  It's easy to forget some people, others it is not.  It's easy to forget what you did last week, but it's also easy to remember things that happened years ago.  Those moments are ingrained in your memory because you cherish them and the people involved.  The song had not been played in a live setting since July 13th, 2003, and I had been wanting them to play it ever since.  I was disappointed they did not break it out at the shows I attended in 2009 and 2010.  I knew eventually they would play it, and they did...on January 1st, 2011.  1.1.11.  I do not think that's a coincidence.  It's a sign.  Of what, I've yet to learn.  But I'm patient enough to wait to find out.  And whatever happens, that's the way it was meant to be.  Once you learn to accept that, life becomes so much easier. 

Round Room (the album and the song), in conjunction with the times and the person I'm referring to, will be forever intertwined - no matter what happens - as long as I live.  

 

Scents and Subtle Sounds

As I relax on my couch typing this, I can't help but reflect with a sense of enormous pride about my accomplishment this past weekend.  It was the literally the culmination of everything I had put into my hobby.  All the time and resources.  Countless miles I had spent in solitude running on sidewalks and roads.  Putting on my running shoes and shorts when my mind and body really didn't want to.  Waking up at dawn to squeeze 3 miles in before work.  Shelling out hard earned money for shoes.  Passing up a six-pack of beer or a pizza to keep my weight down (hey, the less you weigh, the less energy your body uses to get from point A to point B, thus allowing you to run further, right?).  All of these decisions reared their heads last Saturday at a cozy lake in Warsaw, Indiana. 

The time and logistics spent planning this excursion is almost too complicated to explain.  When running 50 miles, you have to be prepared for anything and everything.  You simply cannot over prepare.  The weather, the elements, the course, how your body will react to what you're drinking or eating, etc.  Combine that with the fact that I'm normally a fidgety, neurotic, anal-retentive goofball to start with, this was a dream come true. 

I spent the night before at work in massive energy conservation mode, walking a fine line between "working" and "loafing."  After I had put in my time, I bolted, hopped into my grandparents' bitchin' minivan, and hit the road.  2 things I was not accustomed made the trip more enjoyable: GPS and XM radio.  Warsaw is situated north of North Manchester, where I spent 4 glorious years being an incredibly average college student with an above-average appetite for alcohol, and so the trip up there allowed me to reminisce.  I thought of all the people and friends I had met during my four years and a deep sense of nostalgia overwhelmed me.  But alas, this wasn't about the past.  This was about the future.

I checked into the hotel, took all my gear up to the room, and got situated.  The race didn't start until 2:30pm, and I wasn't planning on leaving the hotel until 12:45pm, so I had a little time to unwind.  I received a much appreciated phone call from a dear friend before I went to bed that put me in an exceptional mood.  Hearing her voice - I replayed it in the final miles of my last loop, too - was just what I needed to get to sleep.

I awoke at approximately 7:30am, and went downstairs to sample the continental breakfast, careful not to eat too much.  I wanted to make sure my stomach was as empty as possible by 2:30pm.  I sipped some coffee, read USA Today, and soaked in the sights.  Unfortunately, those sights included a bunch of 13 year-old girls running around before their softball game.  I finished my eggs and muffins and went upstairs to catch some more zzz's.

Awaking at 11:45am, I took a hot shower to loosen up.  My gear had already been laid out, so all that was left to do was pack it up and hit the road.  I checked my email and the weather one last time (72 and sunny, yeah!) and left for the lake.

The start/finish was situated away from the lake (that John Denver is full of shit), tucked neatly down a narrow winding road and into a clearing that is enveloped by trees on all sides.  As I pulled in, the mountain bikers from that morning's races were leaving, and I could see the runners milling about.  I find a spot right behind a vehicle with a Manchester College Alumni sticker.  Sweet!  I mozy over to the main tent, grab my bib and continue to unpack and stretch.  It's starting to warm up.  Hmmmm.

 The 10-milers and 30-milers started before us, and after they took off I looked around.  Only about 15 of us.  Insane.  The sun was shining full force, hardly any wind, a long, unknown trail awaited me, and I thought "This is it.  There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

We started at 2:40pm.  I was careful to not get caught up in the pace of those (few) around me.  A slow, plodding pace to familiarize myself with the terrain and surroundings.  My legs started to warm up and I got my breathing rhythm down.  There were aid stations at 3.2, 5.5 and 7.0, and I made sure to stop at every one of them. 

The course itself was a 10-mile loop.  Mentally, I divided it into quarters: the first part was run along a creek and included some steep hills before the first aid station.  The second part was flatter but the hills it did include had me walking up them.  The third part, in between the 2 on-course aid stations, was real flat and out in the open, where you can open up the throttle and make up some ground if you're inclined to.  Lastly, the fourth part was the most challenging: it crossed two creeks on narrow bridges and had some killer hills.  If you break a race like that down into parts, you're mentally able to deal with it a little better.  Of course, I had to do it five times. 

The first two loops went by uneventfully.  My loops were within 5 minutes of each other, and I changed shirts after the first loop, as it was fairly warm and I worked up a good sweat - even at the relatively slow pace I was running.  As I set out on my third loop, I donned my headlamp (but didn't turn it on) and slowed my pace just a little to conserve as much energy as possible.  I was still feeling pretty good, and I was seeing fewer and fewer people on the course.  My stays at the aid stations got just a little longer - more time to digest the trail mix and gels and to get as much water down as possible.  It should be pointed out that not ONCE did I "feel" dehydrated or sluggish due to dehydration or food  in my stomach.  I attribute the avoidance of dehydration to the countless hours I spend in the sauna at the Athena Center, teaching my body to "sweat efficiently."  It should also be pointed out that the HARDEST thing to do in a trail run is to force yourself to eat when you're not hungry.  Ugh.  I felt like I was 8 years old at the family dinner table again.  Only this time I couldn't strategically move my food around to make it look like I ate it. 

As I closed the third loop, the PA announcer called my name and said "congrats on finishing your third lap...too bad he's got two more."  I was still feeling pretty good, but mentally that was a jolt to the system.  I ditched the iPod, changed shorts once last time, turned on my headlamp and set out.  The fourth lap, I determined, was the most difficult.  It was run without music, and in the dark.  I could only see about 10-15 feet ahead of me, but luckily I was starting to remember the course.  That didn't stop me, however, from tripping over the occasional root...once such trip that almost landed me headfirst into a thorny bush.

As I approached the last aid station on the fourth lap, the race director pulled up on his bike, offered me some trail mix and we chatted.  He was very friendly and encouraging, and as I set out, he said "Don't let 'em catch you." 


I crossed the line after my fourth lap, headed to my vehicle and was very confident about my last loop.  Water, Gatorade, banana, gel, run.  Easy breezy.  Coasting along, I made it to the first aid station with no problem.  I left there, and then it came.  It had been stalking me for a little while, disguising itself whenever I thought I had recognized it.  THE WALL. 

If you've never met the wall, I'd suggest you not make his (or her) acquaintance.  It creeps up on you.  Slowly but surely.  When you least expect it, it's like you're entire energy supply is just drained.  I hit the wall in my first marathon at 21 miles or so, like most newbies do, and it was awful.  I felt like I couldn't run another step.  This time, she approached me a little kinder and gentler.  I still had the energy to put one foot in front of the other, but I was struggling.  As indicated in my FB post, I passed an old man whose exchange and kind words allowed me to get my second wind.  As I pounded through the last half of the lap, my thighs were burning and my back was starting to ache.  I remembered the phone call from the previous night from someone I care very much for, and that helped tremendously.  She probably doesn't know it, but it did.  Even my arms were starting to get sore. 

Since I was so familiar with the course by that point, I was able to tell when I was in the homestretch.  I could hear voices and see lights.  Any runner will tell you that on a run that long, you cannot overstate the excitement of knowing you're close to the finish.  I came down a hill, and coasted through the chute a few minutes before midnight in 9:24:45.  The few people that were left there were cheering as if I had just won Boston (what a rush!!!) and a beautiful woman put my finishers medallion on me (What the?  Was I dreaming?).  At that point, I wasn't tired necessarily, but my legs were sore and felt awfully rubbery.  After changing clothes, stretching and getting some water, I headed back to the hotel around 12:45am. 

I thought I'd be able to sleep like a log, but alas, I didn't.  Too jacked up and my legs were too restless.  I soaked in the tub with some ice and reflected on the day.  My thoughts wandered about all the choices I had made - some good, some bad - that had led me to sitting in a bathtub of ice in Warsaw, Indiana.  I thought about how my life unfolded differently than I expected it would - was I supposed to be married and have kids by now?  Working 9-5 job somewhere?  Well, none of that has happened.  But I wouldn't change a thing. 

Some interesting factoids that may or may not interest only me:
Calories burned:  Anywhere from 8,000-9,500.  That's at least 2 pounds of pure fat.
It took one runner 15 1/2 hours to finish the 50-mile course...at 6:00am the next morning.
The race director himself sang the Star-Spangled Banner...a noble effort indeed.
I saw black squirrels.  Or skunks without stripes.  One of the two.
I saw a spectator smoking.  I just thought that was really strange.
I drank warm pickle juice at the end of each loop.
I didn't actually "run" 50 miles; I walked up all steep hills and in and out of every aid station.  But I probably did run at least 47-48 miles. 

I only had to pee twice: once after the third loop and once in the middle of the 5th loop (on the course).

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign.

Signs are everywhere. 
Stop.  Beware of Dog.  No Trespassing.  Smoking Prohibited.  Open.  Closed. 

These are all signs that tell us - specifically - what we need to know.  But my favorite signs are the ones that are not tangible.  Ones you can't directly touch or see.  The ones that are guided by our intuition.  The ones that we piece together ourselves.  A fleeting moment of "Eureka!"


There are no accidents, no coincidences.


Sometimes you might find yourself - to quote David Byrne - asking, "Well, how did I get here?"  Why do I live where I live?  What made me choose the profession I'm in?  Why did I fall for the person I'm with?  Your entire life is made up of choices.  Do this or do that.  A or B.  Option 1 or option 2.  If you pick option 1 instead of option 2, that opens up an entire realm and universe of new choices.  All of the old choices disappear.  You'll make wrong choices.  No one ever makes the right choices all of the time.  No one.
But eventually, if you're lucky, you'll find yourself saying "This is where I'm meant to be."  It might take 20 years, it might take 50 years.  But everyone gets there. 


Never, ever stop looking for signs.  Pay attention to what the universe is offering you. 

Wake Up To Find Out That You Are the Eyes of the World

What goes through someone's mind when they decide to run 50 miles?  Why would you run for several hours in a row, torturing your body? 
Most people who decide to do this are neurotic in nature: they obsess over every detail of not only their running, but their daily lives as well.  I think it's because they know that the small details - thousands of them - all count in the end.  I once read that an ultra trail runner - Matt Carpenter - used a razor to shave "micro ounces" off of his shoes to be able to run faster. I don't go to those extremes, but those who know me well enough certainly would use "neurotic" to describe parts of my personality (along with "imbecilic" and "nerdy"). 


Anyway, my steely determination will not allow me to not finish this race.  Even if I have to slither across the finish line with my nipples.  Seeing a "DNF" next to my name will bring tremendous amounts shame and embarrassment to my family.  Not really, but I'd be, like, pretty bummed out about it.  So upon finishing the race - which will be done in darkness wearing a headlamp - I've decided to celebrate.  The initial reaction would be to spontaneously celebrate - having spent the better part of your waking day running in circles in a forest - with whatever little adrenaline might be coursing through your veins at that particular moment.  But alas, my meticulous planning for this race (which includes drawing a diagram that shows exactly what and where will be laid out in the back of my vehicle for pit stops during the race) will encompass my finishing celebration...a dance. 
I do believe I've narrowed it down to 3 choices: The Deion Sanders touchdown dance, MJ's Moonwalk, and Napoleon Dynamite's talent show dance.  I'm leaning towards the touchdown dance.  Is it silly to actually plan something like this?  Probably.  Do I care?  Not in the least. 

Blogging Cherry...Popped.

There's a handful of topics that I'll probably post about, all of which I am very passionate about.
~  Phish ...  Tour experiences, show reviews, etc.

~  Running ...  Things I think about while running (possibly NSFW and/or small children), upcoming races, photos from scenic routes and trails, etc.  


~  TV shows, movies and books ...  Some of my favorites, what they mean to me, why I enjoy them, etc. 

~  Purdue athletics ...  This will be more of a seasonal thing, but I truly enjoy touting the excellence of Purdue basketball (and, er, football), particularly during a season in which IU is sucking to holy hell.  

I doubt I'll be updating this every day, but I'd like to get in 3-5 entries per week.  Since I work nights, I often arrive home anywhere from 1:30-3:30 in the morning, which could lend a decidedly dark and twisted tone to some of my posts.  At least, that's what I'm hoping.