I planned on running about 10 miles this morning, but it seemed awfully dark when the alarm went off, so my 10-miler became an easy 6-miler instead. On the plus side, I think I ran far enough to eat a couple of these pilgrim cookies that my wife made to take to our daughter's pre-school class. Cute, huh?
I'm sorry this blog is starting to sound frighteningly like Chocolate Runner - I'll try to trend away from that in the future, I promise.
Last night's 60 Minutes featured two stories that grabbed my attention: one on the current condition of New Orleans, another on the incomparable rock band U2.
The segment on New Orleans painted a grim portrait of destruction and decay, eventually questioning the logic of rebuilding the city on its current site, or commencing a gradual relocation.
12 weeks after Hurricane Katrina, almost 3/4 of the residences are either completely destroyed or uninhabitable. Such a tiny percentage of the population has returned that businesses are not sustainable. And according to one expert, the Gulf of Mexico could potentially turn the city into an island - a concavity supported only by artificial levees - within the next 80 years.
The other story about Bono and U2 didn't actually reveal anything I didn't already know. For the record, I've been crazy about this band since I was in grade school - I even wrote an article comparing them to my running career once.
What always strikes me is the passion and conviction that Bono displays in taking on causes that others say are impossible. One of his major goals is to end world hunger, a task of such monumental difficulty that Bono himself has called it "this generation's moon shot."
Honestly, I don't think that's accurate - the moon shot was probably easier. After all, it didn't rely on widespread geopolitical cooperation. But Bono believes that such lofty ambitions are firmly within our reach, once enough people care enough to be called to action and contribute in some manner.
So where am I going with this? Curiously, not too long ago I received an e-mail announcement for the 2006 Mardi Gras Marathon, reporting that the event would carry on as scheduled in February 2006.
To say the least, I was shocked. I can't fathom how they could stage an event in the city, not to mention finding 26 miles of roads that aren't damaged or contaminated. Assuming people travel from out of town, where will they stay? The complications seem overwhelming.
Yet at this point, they plan to carry on. It would be the first major athletic event held in the city since Katrina.
No, I'm not planning to run it. But the marathon web site describes a way that anyone can contribute: by making a donation to the race, with all proceeds going to the rehabilitation of New Orleans.
With a donation of $50 or more, you'll receive a race t-shirt with the slogan "Come Back to the Big Easy."
Should New Orleans be rebuilt? Should they be attempting to stage a major race in the wake of such tragedy? These aren't questions I'm qualified to answer.
But I like it when a running event has a positive fiscal impact on a community, and I like it when this normally self-centered activity we do embraces an outreach cause.
Even if the race is terrible, putting on the event can send a symbolic message - that people of the area are soldiering on, persevering despite enormous hardships ahead of them. Who better to represent this sentiment than marathon runners?
Not all of us can travel to the Gulf Coast to participate in the race or assist the rebuilding effort. But if enough people feel called to action, their contributions can collectively sustain the relief effort for a short period of time, and have a lasting influence on a community in need.
So check out the race website, and consider supporting their efforts. And spread the word. 
I know one thing: if Bono were a runner, he would definitely do it. And he wouldn't think it's impossible to rebuild the Big Easy.
After all, restoring a historic city shouldn't be as tough as a moon shot.
Over the weekend I've done more posting on Anne's site than on my own. We've been knocking around the issue of charity runners at marathons, in particular the group that got busted for cheating at this year's Marine Corps Marathon. Check out the story here, and Anne's post on it here.
More from me later.
I've never really been much of a cake eater. When it comes to baked goodies, I've always been more partial to cookies and brownies.
Which makes it ironic that I would marry one of the best cake-bakers in Monterey County.
Unbeknownst to me when I married her, my wife harbored a latent talent for making adorable birthday cakes, that only came to light after the birth of our children. Over the past seven years she has made cakes shaped like ladybugs, trains, Oski the Bear (a long story I don't want to tell right now), dump trucks, dogs, and gumball machines.
The cakes taste fantastic, also. So whenever one of our kids' birthdays draws near, the whole family looks forward to what kind of cake Mommy is creating.
We all check to verify that there will be enough cake for all of us to have leftovers the next day. It's one of our family's traditions: when someone has a birthday, we all get leftover cake for breakfast the morning after the party. This is a tradition we don't mess around with.
So although I'm not a big cake-eater, I never pass up a chance to have a piece of my kid's birthday cake.
Which brings me to this morning. Sitting on our kitchen counter right now is a birthday cake, shaped like a hunny pot for a Winnie the Pooh themed party tonight. 
Today is my baby daughter's second birthday, so I had to make sure I dragged my butt out the door to go running this morning. Like most runners, I feel much better about indulging myself if I've already put in some mileage earlier in the day.
So I did six fairly easy miles on the road, and thought a little bit about my daughter, how special (and crazy and sleepless and frustrating) the past two years have been with her around, and about what a blessing she's been to our family.
But mostly, I was thinking about having some of that cake. And hoping there would be enough leftovers for tomorrow.
I meant to run today. Really, I did. But it seemed like the fates conspired against me.
Strike 1: I just couldn't get myself out of bed this morning. I can usually string several days of getting up early in a row, but occasionally I simply need the extra hour of sleep more than I need a short run. Besides, I can always run at luchtime, right?...
Strike 2: "Code Triage" was called at about 11:00AM at the hospital where I work. It's essentially a disaster-preparedness drill, with all involved parties required to attend a debriefing, which of course extended into the lunch hour. Thankfully, it ended early enough that I still had time to squeeze in a short run...
Strike 3: the 64-oz water bottle that I left in my exercise bag wasn't properly sealed, and had been leaking into my running clothes for the past 4 hours. Everything I intended to wear was drenched, and I had no spare clothes.
Deciding against putting on soaking wet clothes to run in the breezy autumn afternoon, I called myself out for the day. Which means that since my promising run on Tuesday, I've run a grand total of 4 miles.
But tomorrow is another opportunity to do better. As long as I don't do anything stupid.
Yesterday's small dose of mojo came at a price - today one of my hamstrings was so sore that I could barely hobble through 4 flat miles.
So I might as well talk about the Ironman.
I watched the Ironman Triathlon World Championships over the weekend, and as always, came away with mixed emotions.
First, let me say for the record that I LOVE the Ironman. Just adore it. It's probably the most demanding athletic event in the world. It's been on my athletic "wish list" for several years now, the same way the Boston Marathon used to be before I finally qualified and ran it.
But NBC's coverage of the event drives me bonkers. Here are my main gripes:
1. Al Trautwig's completely over the top dramatization of every aspect of the event. Sure, his delivery is great for the stories of athletes who have overcome hardship to compete, but seeing athletes moving through the transition area doesn't always have to be presented like Greek theater.
Thankfully, for portions of the telecast NBC utilized the services of Phil Liggett, otherwise known as the voice of the Tour De France. They don't make commentators any better than Liggett. He's knowedgeable, passionate, and enthusiastic about the events he covers. He could be working the National Barbecue Cookoff and make you excited about it. His style is dramatically different than Trautwig's, and very refreshing, so - nice move, NBC.
2. Last year NBC made a big deal about saying all the competitors were just a number (like a bib number) until they crossed the finish line in Kona, at which point they became Ironmen. The point was that no matter who you are, you have to deal with the same circumstances as all the others to get to the starting line and compete at Kona.
Which would be a nice thought...if only it were true. However, if you happen to be a former professional football player, television reporter or Baywatch star, there's a slot with your name on it at the starting line, just for the asking.
I understand that this helped increase exposure for the sport in the early days. But I don't get why they still use this gimmick. Is there anyone out there that really doesn't know what the Ironman is, or not respect how demanding it is to finish? It seems like they have an established audience now, and aren't reliant on celebrities to increase their viewership.
3. The overriding sentiment throughout the broadcast is usually something along the lines of, "These are everyday people who had the ambition and drive to take on the Ironman." In other words, if you had the same talent and drive, you could be there with them.
And yet, triathlon's crown jewel excludes vast numbers of people. To start with, it's extremely cost-prohiitive, when you consider the expenses of equipment and race entries beforehand, and travel to Hawaii (usually with family) for the event. It's even expensive to particpate in the lottery proces each year, which is the primary means of entry for many of the athletes.
Qualifying slots for the race are brutally difficult to obtain, and only the top fraction of athletes gain entry this way. I know that the event can't beome much larger than its current size, but wouldn't a qualifying system based on age-graded times, like the Boston Marathon uses, make much more sense? It seems that too many gifted competitors are being left at home, especially in light of the whole celebrity-entry issue I mentioned above.
So in addition to being courageous and determined, you also have to be rich and/or very lucky to get into the Ironman Hawaii. Somehow that doesn't get mentioned too often.
Yet despite all these things, I watch that darn show year after year. And I always go through a similar progression, from cynicism, to envy, then admiration, then inspiration, and finally come away marveling at what a fantastic event it is.
There's just no way to see those athletes taking on an ultimate challenge, struggling to continue as the day stretches into night, and not feel completely inspired to challenge yourself in a similar manner.
Watching the Ironman always reaffirms my appreciation for the ability of the human body to persevere and overcome tremendous hardships - a lesson many endurance runners eventually discover and cherish.
So congratulations to everyone who participated. I was thankful for the opportunity to watch you on TV last weekend. And hopefully someday many years from now, I'll be there competing alongside you.
That way, I won't have to watch it on NBC.
This morning our training group did our regular Tuesday run, a hilly 13-mile loop through two adjacent valleys in Steinbeck Country, an area the late author famously named "The Pastures of Heaven" (pictured).
Our two fastest runners were absent, and the rest are in tapering mode in preparation for the California International Marathon in 2 weeks. They would be taking it much easier than usual today.
Which meant I could probably keep up with them.
Normally I can hang with this group, but lately my speed has been lacking, as I've explained before. I was happy to be able to stay in the pack as we strung out across the major climb from miles 4.5 to 6.
Down the backside of the hill, I let my legs turn over more quickly, and slowly pulled ahead of the others. I figured it would only be a few seconds before they caught up to my pace once we were on level ground again.
Then the weirdness started. One mile later, I was still running by myself. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw everyone in the distance, but not gaining any ground. Knowing they were sure to catch me soon, I kept my stride comfortable and didn't overexert myself trying to hold them off.
Another mile went by, and another, and I realized that I was going off the front. The group had strung out now, and only one other runner was in sight behind me.
Just to clarify: any one of those guys could have reeled me in. They just decided not to.
So I assumed the mentality of a frontrunner.
I've pulled away from this group at other times, usually when I'm in much better shape or when the others are plodding through very high mileage weeks. But it hasn't happened since last spring, and the feeling was unusual at first.
Running off the front changes your perspective, and instills a sense of confidence, regardless of what speed you are running. If you pull away from a pack of 10-minute milers by running 9:30s, the feeling is probably the same as I felt stringing together 6:30s this morning to lead the pack home.
Although the pace started hurting with about 5K to go, my determination to hold off the pack propelled me through the final miles. When I inevitably began to tighten up in the last mile, I was far enough ahead that I could cruise to the finish and still feel great about my overall effort.
When I clicked the stopwatch, I found that I had run about 4 minutes faster than last time. And at that moment, I felt a trace of my long-lost mojo coming back.
Sure, everyone else was taking it easy this morning. At this point, I'm taking every moment of encouragement I can find to eventually regain my groove, and today's run was just what I needed.
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