Senseless Tragedy

I had a nice, lighthearted post in the works for today, where I planned on explaining my rationale for entering the Big Sur Marathon again this spring, and maybe even squeezing a little more mileage out of my whole triathlon/mistress analogy.

Then we had to write this Monterey Herald article, and all of a sudden I wasn’t in such a lighthearted mood anymore.

Somber writing isn’t really a strength of mine. This article took a long time to write and saw countless revisions, and I’m still not really satisfied with it. I could blame our deadline ... but even if we had all week to write this one, I still think it would feel inadequate.

Our words below don't nearly express the degree of shock and sadness that local people have, nor does it pay enough tribute to the individuals involved. I’ve come to decide that certain topics are just far too weighty for my writing skills to handle.

So we submitted this article for the newspaper, and I’m going to hold off on the trivial stuff for a few more days. And if you clicked on this blog looking for something uplifting today, I’m sorry to say that you’ve come to the wrong place.

***

Running Life 2/15/07: “Coping With Tragedy”


The running community on the Central Coast is like an extended family. We all share a common hobby and lifestyle, and spend a lot of time together. Many of us are close friends, and we all appreciate the different talents and personalities among our group.

Sadly, the last few weeks have been tough ones for this local family of runners, as two of our members were forever taken from us.

By now, nearly everyone around here has heard about the senseless murder of Mel and Elizabeth Grimes outside their Carmel Valley home, ostensibly over a boundary dispute and a large rock. The couple were prominent residents of our small town, with a very diverse circle of friends.

The running community took the news particularly hard, as Mel and Elizabeth were an integral part of the local running scene.

They were both members of the Big Sur Marathon Board for many years. Mel’s main job was to head the committee in charge of the starting area. But on race day, he loved to run the marathon as well – a remarkably difficult combination of tasks.

Mel would get no sleep before the race, as he would head down to Big Sur in the middle of the night to ensure that everything was set for the thousands of runners who would soon be arriving. He wore a race singlet and shorts under his clothes, and after overseeing a successful start of the race, he would tear off his blue sportcoat (worn by all Board members on race day), and chase the field towards the finish. He was the last to leave the start line each year, but usually passed most of the field on his way to one of his 15 Big Sur finishes.

His wife Elizabeth also dedicated many hours to the marathon. Even after leaving her board position, she volunteered every year in the office during the weeks leading up to race day. She could be counted on to do whatever was necessary to help race weekend go smoothly.

Elizabeth and Mel donated significantly to other local running causes. They were quick to offer their time and money, and gave generously to the Wednesday Night Laundry Runners High School Scholarship fund, The Big Sur Distance Project, and Big Sur Marathon charities.

Both of them were unpretentious, self-effacing, and a pure joy to be around – and our community will miss them terribly.

Mel and Elizabeth will have a memorial service this Saturday, February 17th that will honor their many outdoor activities. The memorial starts at the Carmel Mission at 10:00 AM. Afterward, their ashes will be carried by runners to Carmel Beach, and taken out to sea by the Outrigger Club. A Hawaiian surfing celebration will then take place as a way of paying last respects to the couple.

The Grimeses obviously had many other friends besides runners, and anyone who wishes to join their memorial service is invited to attend.

The deaths of Mel and Elizabeth illustrate a harsh reality for many runners. In most cases, endurance athletes believe that life is generally quite fair. When we train hard, we reap successful results. If we dedicate ourselves to a goal, we usually attain it. If we stick to our training regimens, we feel like we control our own destinies.

Because of our healthy lifestyles, many of us mistakenly feel immune to the slings and arrows of everyday life. It’s only when tragedy strikes that we realize that life can be very random and unfair after all - sometimes in ways that make absolutely no sense.

Mel’s participation in the Big Sur Marathon is an apt metaphor. He worked at the starting line for the benefit of others, then gave his best effort in running the race. Through the years, he ran many strong miles, but he could never have anticipated that his ultimate finish line would arrive nearly so soon, or so tragically.

As we mourn for Mel and Elizabeth, we’re more aware of just how arbitrary life can be, and reminded to make every mile of our own lives count.

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Clear Eyes, Dead Legs

I’ve never been crazy about running 1-mile repeats. It’s too bad it’s such an ideal marathon workout.

If it weren’t, I wouldn’t hesitate to blow off the once-weekly session of mile repeats that our training group does during the months leading up to the Big Sur Marathon. But over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the value of this particular workout, and how well it simulates the stress your body experiences when racing 26.2 miles. It’s one of my least favorite workouts, but it’s absolutely necessary if I want to run a strong marathon in the spring.

So despite my relative ambivalence about marathon training this year (the subject of my next post, most likely), I’ve managed to make it to nearly every Thursday morning workout of 1-mile repeats.

Today’s workout called for 8 x 1-mile, a thought that filled me with dread for most of yesterday and last evening. I’ve felt kind of worn out lately, thanks to several difficult swim and running workouts (and I haven’t even started serious bike workouts yet – have I mentioned before that triathlon training can be exhausting?), and for the past few days I’ve started each run with that heavy-legged feeling telling me there isn’t a lot of fuel left in the tank. So I wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels at the thought of all those mile intervals.

Sure enough, as soon as we started, I knew it would be a difficult day. My first few intervals were all slower than the last time I did this workout. By the time the sixth mile was finished, the energy tank was officially on empty.

Then just as I considered packing it in and taking an easy jog back to the car, I had an unlikely source of inspiration from one of my running partners.

As I stood in place with my hands on my hips, gathering my breath, gazing blankly at the road ahead, and trying to figure out why I was doing this to myself, he walked in front of me and caught my gaze.

Then he tilted his head up slightly, and said: “Hey D - Clear eyes, full hearts.”

To which I smirked, and immediately replied: “Can’t lose!”

It was a random reference to the show Friday Night Lights, and the motto the team yells and chants to fire itself up before workouts or games. During one episode, they yelled it over and over while running wind sprints in the rain. The players typically start shouting it right around the time that the show cues up some overly-orchestrated music for complete effect – just like a predictable drama is supposed to do.

(And since I’m on the subject: FNL is an excellent TV show based on a very good movie, which is a film adaptation of an outstanding book. Has there been any other story told with such high quality across all three mediums? I honestly can’t think of any – unless there’s a Harry Potter TV series in Britain that I’m not aware of.)

The funny part was that neither of us had ever talked about the show before – this exchange was the first time either one had ever mentioned it. The gimmick was completely unexpected, totally corny … and exactly what I needed.

It’s not that the motto itself is particularly inspirational – for that matter, I’m not exactly sure that it even makes any sense. But hearing it spoken between two grown men during the middle of a killer workout, it took on a comedic element that effectively defused the anxiety of the situation. I still had the smile on my face as I took the first strides of my seventh interval.

Now, this isn’t a fairly tale story – because my last two intervals still felt terrible. They were still slower than usual. By the end of the workout, my legs were dead, and it was all I could do to shuffle out a single cool-down mile. (And I’m supposed to be in the pool in about four hours. On a related note, I’m praying for an electrical storm to blow through the area this morning.) But the important thing is that I got the workout finished, even after I felt like quitting.

And that goofy high-school football battle cry was just the nudge I needed to keep going. Sometimes, the things I grasp at for motivation are simply ridiculous.

***

Updated: a couple of people have asked, so here are details from the workouts:

8x 1-mile: 6:05, 6:00, 6:00, 5:59, 6:01, 6:00, 6:02, 6:00 with 2 minutes 30 sec rest in between.

And since my electrical storm never showed up: 2500m swim in 43:15, later the same day.

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Hill Running 101

One sometimes-overlooked aspect of having a newspaper column is the amount of time required to respond to the hundreds of e-mails that pour into our inbox each month.

OK ... that's a bit of an exaggeration. But we do get a few e-mails every now and then, and at this time of year, the queries frequently have a common theme: how to prepare for the Big Sur Marathon.

The answer we give is remarkably simple: do tons of hill training. Of course, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that we often turn simple answers into 800-word essays. That's exactly what happened with our Monterey Herald article last week.

***

Running Life 2/1/07: "Head for the Hills!"

Every winter, we receive e-mails from people looking for tips on training for the Big Sur Marathon at the end of April.

Our typical response is something like this: Run on hills. Run every hill you can find. Big hills and small hills. Steep hills and gradual hills. Run up and down hundreds and hundreds of hills. And when your legs are exhausted and you’re completely sick of running on hills … go out and run even more hills, to prepare for the final miles of the race.

The Big Sur course is a unique challenge in marathoning because of its relentless undulation. If you are training for the race, you should be heading for the hills as much as possible. But it’s not only marathoners who benefit from this kind of training.

Anyone who wants to be a better runner should incorporate hill training to his or her routine. Novice runners are sometimes apprehensive about running on hills, but any veteran racer knows that hills are the runner’s best friend. So if you are a strictly flat-terrain runner, get off the straight and narrow, and spice up your running with some challenging hills.

The benefits of hill running are numerous. From a physiological standpoint, hill running burns more calories, makes your muscles stronger, and improves your body’s oxygen carrying capacity. These changes will make you faster once you return to flat terrain. Frank Shorter, gold medalist in the 1972 Olympic marathon, famously said that, “Hills are speed work in disguise”.

Psychologically, hill running forges great strength of character. There’s nothing like the feeling of conquering a hill that once seemed insurmountable, or of reaching the summit of a long, grueling climb. And the views from the top are incredible.

Experienced runners become emotionally attached to their favorite climbs, as these hills are often the sites of their most memorable runs. In fact, most of our major local climbs have been given distinguishing nicknames. Some are intimidating, such as Black Death, The Grind, or Hurricane Point. Others are more affectionate or descriptive, such as The Three Bears, Clara’s Summit, Skyclimb (in Toro Park), or Sky Trail (in Garland Ranch).

Marathon runners sometimes ask if they can simulate hills on the treadmill. Our answer is no – because proper hill training means going both up and down the hills. Downhill running is the primary cause of soreness (and in severe cases, injuries) as the quadriceps muscles absorb the impact of your body weight plus gravity with each step. The only way to properly prepare for this is to gradually adapt your legs to increasing amounts of downhill running.

Proper technique is important. Going uphill, run with an equal effort as you use on flat surfaces. This means you will naturally slow down and shorten your stride as the slope increases. Your tendency will be to lean into the hill – but be sure the lean is coming from your ankles, not from bending over at the waist.

Downhill technique is less natural. Your tendency will be to take longer strides, faster steps, and to lean backwards. But try to stay perpendicular to the downhill slope. Shorten your stride length, let your knees bend slightly on impact, and lean your body slightly forward. If you do these parts correctly, it’s OK to let your step rate become faster as you are running down the hill.

Good downhill running requires thinking and adapting. That’s why it takes a lot of practice.

If you are training for Big Sur, we recommend a workout of hill repeats once per week. These can be done on any hill that requires 1 to 3 minutes to climb from the bottom to the top. Start with a small number like 4 or 6, and increase the repetitions each week. Your effort up the hill should be hard, but not all out. Going down, keep an easy effort and concentrate on form. Run continuously for the entire workout.

During January and February, many local runners use the road up to Cypress Community Church off Hwy 68 for a weekly early morning hill workout. We call these Church Hill repeats, and by the end of each workout we are sometimes praying for mercy. It is almost a spiritual experience.

The church used to have a sign halfway up the hill that said, “Make A Difference!” It obviously wasn’t placed there for us runners, but the sentiments were very appropriate for the workout. Church hill repeats make a significant difference in our running performance, and in our preparation for the spring marathon season.

So take our advice and head for the hills. If the workouts initially seem painful, feel free to curse at us while you’re doing them. But then be sure to thank us when all that hill training helps you finish the Big Sur Marathon this April.

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Swimming and Rambling

(Actually, the post title is deceiving, because you’re getting the rambling before the swimming. But the reverse title wasn’t quite as catchy, given the name of this blog. As usual, jump below the asterisks for the real post.)

Last week, the question was asked about whether I had gotten around to watching American Idol yet. This week, I can happily say yes. A few thoughts so far:

• You know how TiVo is supposed to help you watch your shows faster? Well, the first episode may have actually taken me longer than two hours to watch, on account of the number of times I paused the show to comment on how remarkably pretty Jewel is. In a related story, my wife has been controlling the TiVo clicker more often lately.

• When one girl sang the opening verse to “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, my 5-year-old daughter looked at me and said “Hey – it’s the song from the end of Shrek!,” and we all had a nice laugh. The next day, one of her kindergarten classmates got in trouble for singing the song on the playground. Sometimes, context is everything.

• It’s somehow fitting to have a music video by Chris Daughtry in heavy rotation on VH1 this month, just as Idol is starting again. It’s a nice reminder that the best talent probably won’t win the show – and, selfishly, it makes me feel justified in that I picked this guy as a star way back at the beginning of last season. Every now and then I get one right.

But here’s what I can’t figure out: the artist name on both the album and video is simply Daughtry, without his first name. Which means that either: 1) He’s trying to go by a single name now, or 2) the whole band is named after him. Unfortunately, neither of these explanations is very encouraging. The first case is nearly impossible to pull off unless you’re a rock super-duperstar like Sting or Bono, and the second move is almost universally disastrous.

Does anyone remember Danzig? Or Dokken? How about Winger? I can’t think of a single case where a rock band called by the lead singer’s last name has prospered. (Note – Van Halen doesn’t count. There were two of them, and neither one was the singer.) On the other hand, rockers who use their full names – Jon Bon Jovi, Jimi Hendrix, Rob Zombie, even Courtney Love - frequently do pretty well.

Now, I sorted all of this out in about three minutes – so the idea that some agent is really giving Chris Daughtry career advice like “I’d name the whole band after you – it will be great!” seems unfathomable.

Or maybe that’s just me. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been known to overanalyze things. Let’s move on to the post …

***

If you’re looking to socialize while training, a swim workout is a lousy place to do it.

Ever since last May, I’ve been swimming on a somewhat regular basis with a group of 6-8 masters swimmers who meet at midday at the community college pool. We all have jobs to return to in the afternoon, so the group has a very businesslike approach to the workout: we briefly say hi to each other, then jump in and do a few hundred warmup yards, so we can get right to the workout and go our respective ways afterward.

Given the brief time frame, and the very short rest intervals between sets – not to mention the fact that our faces are underwater for 98% of the time – there’s very little small talk or goofing around at these workouts. Which, honestly, is just fine by me.

So it took me by surprise at the end of Friday’s 2500-yd workout when, as I was preparing to hop out of the pool, four swimmers stayed behind shooting the breeze and laughing. Whether it was the satisfaction from finishing another tough session, or the relief of the work week drawing to a close (or a combination of both), no one was in any apparent hurry to leave the scene. I figured I’d hang around for a few seconds to see what happened.

And when one of the guys said “Hey – want to do some underwaters?”, I knew that I had made the right decision.

Throughout my youth, underwater swims were the closing ritual to many swim practices, from the neighborhood grade-school team up to our high school varsity. They were a great way to have fun and challenge our oxygen capacities at the same time.

The task increased in difficulty as I got older: first just swimming across the width, then “cheating” across the length (by getting an additional push off the concrete downslope to the deep end), and finally being able to swim 25 yards underwater on a single breath. Sometimes we’d even push off the wall underwater and continue the other way, but I never made it more than 10 or 15 more yards (a couple of guys I knew could routinely swim 50 yards underwater). There was usually a lot of trash talking and showing off, and the scrutiny of my teammates probably pushed me another 5-10 yards beyond what I'd be able to cover otherwise.

I vividly recall the feeling that my lungs might implode just as I broke the surface on the far side, and I remember the pride of knowing that it was only our excellent fitness that allowed us to play such exhilarating games.

Those swim team practices were a regular feature of my youth. But somehow, in my reincarnation as an adult triathlete, I had forgotten how much fun we had at the end of those workouts, staying in the pool and goofing arounnd after practice, because there wasn’t anywhere else we’d rather be. It seemed unbelievable to me last Friday, but I hadn’t done underwater repetitions to finish a workout in several years.

So I stayed behind with the others and did four repetitions of 25-yard underwater swims. And in the deep water, as I kicked and pulled like crazy, exhaling in measured, incremental doses, straining for the cross on the far wall, I wasn’t a grown-up triathlete anymore. Beneath the surface, I was a child again – goofing around, challenging myself, showing off a little bit, and reveling in the remarkable things that my training enables me to do.

I was having a blast in the pool, just like when I was a kid. When I finally climbed out of the water, I made a mental note to myself: I definitely need to end more workouts that way.

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Dog Days 2007

I’ll keep today’s random notes short, then get right to a post that’s entirely about training. You know … like a normal triathlon blog is supposed to do.

I’ve finally started watching The Wire. I keep getting positive recommendations about it, and I also decided that any show with a theme song by the Blind Boys of Alabama deserves an honest chance to win me over. After watching the first two episodes, a couple of thoughts come to mind:

1. Apparently, on BET, it’s permissible to say the S-word, both B-words, and the racially charged N-word; but the F-word and GD are still off-limits. It’s interesting to me, because I know the network must have had an executive discussion at some point to decide precisely where to draw the line.

I would love to have been a fly on the wall in that room, watching a bunch of old guys in suits review a list of words on a marker board, arguing the merits (or lack thereof) for each one. Right before they hashed out whether or not to pixellate bare breasts and bottoms in the strip club scenes (yes to the first, no to the second). Is there any chance that they filmed this meeting for the special edition DVD?

And secondly …

2. I’m soooooo glad I don’t live in inner-city Baltimore. My wife said it best: It’s disturbing to know that most of the drug-and-violence scenarios aren’t entirely fictional. So if you think your life is bad, just be thankful that you don’t live in a housing project.

Anyway … the show is interesting. My plan now is to keep updated with it just enough so that if I decide to bail on an increasingly troublesome Apprentice series (a whole separate post someday) in midseason, I’ll have something to fill that time commitment so I don’t have to take the drastic measure of actually finding something productive to do.

(Gosh, that intro was still longer than I intended. I think I need a 12-step program or something. Here’s the real post…)

***

Last Saturday was our running club’s annual Every Dog Has Its Day 10K, the all-downhill race that I wrote about in this post last year. I also wrote this Monterey Herald article explaining the origin of what has become a favorite tradition of local runners.

Some years, as many as 70 runners show up to set a 10K PR on the fast course. A subset of these runners meets in the dark before the race, and runs 7 miles out to the start line, using the race as a challenging finish to a high mileage training day.

A smaller, crazier group within that first subset meets when it’s even darker, to run almost 8 miles before joining the 7-mile pre-race runners, putting about 15 miles on their legs before the 10K. And in that smallest subset would be me.

This year’s run took place on a cold morning by local standards. (Speaking of which – we’re more than three weeks into January, and I haven’t complained once on this blog about how cold it’s been here lately. You have no idea what kind of restraint that has required.) It was 32 degrees when the earliest group started, and grew colder for the next two hours before the sun came up.

Geographically, when you travel further into Carmel Valley, temperatures become more extreme. As we ran the 7 miles into the valley toward the start line, the puddles on the road became more frozen, and the asphalt had many stretches of black ice that sent us skidding a few inches with each footfall. The air temperature had dipped to the mid-20s by the time we reached the start area.

(For any Harry Potter fans out there – it felt exactly like we were running closer and closer to a Dementor. The landscape grew more icy, my body felt increasingly frozen, and it seemed like my enjoyment of the run was being sucked out of my body. Needless to say, I wasn’t in a fantastic mood at the start of the race.)

We raced the 10K, and my primary objectives were to: 1) stay upright, and 2) maintain a strong pace, in that order. And in those regards, I was successful. Here are some photos, courtesy of fellow runner Kevin Smith:


Picture #1 - about 2 miles into the race. I’m still wearing the jacket, hat, and second layer of pants that were intended as warm-up gear I would shed for the race. But standing around waiting for the start, I just couldn’t bear the thought of taking any clothes off. This California boy makes no excuses for being a cold-weather wimp.

Notice also that I’m running on the thin line of dirt in the middle of the lane, looking for a bit of traction. That dirt line wasn’t nearly long enough – although I never fell down, my feet slipped out from under me enough times to give me a severe case of the yips.


Picture #2 – what appears to be me stopping my watch a few steps before the finish line. I know what it looks like, but, um … on second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have included this picture.


Picture #3 – this is me after the race, wondering what was going to happen first – whether I would pass out from overexertion, or freeze in place and catch hypothermia because my legs were hurting too much to move anymore. Somehow, neither of those things happened, so I eventually pulled myself upright, and even managed to shuffle a cool-down run that brought my total mileage for the day to 22.

My time for the race was 37:12, with splits for each mile just under 6 minutes. That time is a few seconds faster than I ran last year - even when factoring out my “stopping the watch early” trick at the finish line. One year ago I ran similar pre-race mileage and had warmer conditions during the race. And considering the fact that I haven’t done as much overall mileage this year compared to last year (when I was training for the Napa Marathon), I was fairly satisfied with the way the morning turned out.

Note that I said satisfied, not happy. I wasn’t truly happy until I returned home, stepped into a hot shower, and felt the blood circulating to my face and fingers again. I mean … running is a nice thing to do and all, but sometimes, all I really want is to be warm and comfortable.

On that note - Is winter over yet? Because I really need to continue my training. But this cold-weather stuff we’ve had for the past month or so is getting pretty old.

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Runner Dorothy

Once again, I have a few random thoughts to address before today’s post.

I realize that I’m developing a habit of doing this. Just think of it like reading a magazine, where you have to scan through the letters to the editor before you get to the real articles. At least I don’t make you flip through 30 pages of clothing and perfume ads before getting to the post.

And if you’re the kind of person who skips past the letters to the editor, feel free to scroll down below the asterisks, and rest assured that you aren’t missing anything monumental. (Come to think of it, you can probably jump to the very end, and still not miss anything important. Sorry, I’m rambling already. Off we go … )

• First, thanks to everyone who responded to my MLK post. Those comments are probably the closest thing to enlightened discourse you’ll ever find on this blog. But don’t hold your breath waiting for the next time, because I can only venture toward the fringes of civility for so long before I start itching for my comfort zone of neuroses and trivialities. Speaking of which …

• Remember how I said I didn’t want to get The Game angry at me, because he looked like a total tough guy? Well, it turns out I don’t have to worry about that for a while, because he’s currently preoccupied with beating up David Beckham. I know, you think I’m kidding – but read this story. It’s almost too funny to be believed.

Seriously now - who would have guessed that The Game even followed professional soccer? And how exactly does Beckham’s arrival in town threaten The Game’s street cred in South Central L.A.? There must be more to this story than we’re being told. I just hope that if these two guys ever do get in a fight, somebody nearby will have enough common courtesy to film the thing on his camera phone so I can watch it on YouTube.

• This pains me to say, but my first thought after hearing about Ryan Hall’s record-breaking half-marathon was, “Wow … I wonder what he’s been taking?” I’m not aware that anyone has openly asked that question yet - but it seems to me that anytime a middle-class white guy from California suddenly smashes the best times of all but the most elite East Africans, it’s a legitimate point to contemplate.

I truly hate the fact that I’m so jaded about this whole drug situation - I’m one of the biggest track fans around, and I can’t even enjoy the standout moments anymore. This kid could be the next Steve Prefontaine or Frank Shorter, but will always have a cloud of suspicion around him. What a mess.

• Finally, I find myself in a television dilemma. For the past two years I’ve heard nothing but praise and fantastic reviews of The Wire; but since I don’t get HBO, I was never able to watch the show. Then last week, BET started airing the series from season one, and I’ve recorded them on TiVo.

The problem is that they’ve run the first four episodes over a span of one week, and I’ve been too busy to actually sit down and watch them. So now, at 90 minutes per episode, I’m almost 6 hours behind before I’ve even made it out of the gate.

The only other times I’ve been in this situation have been: 1) During the Summer Olympics, when I taped eight hours of track events each day, so I could watch every qualifying event leading up to the finals, and 2) When I inexplicably had to work on the day of last year’s National Spelling Bee, then stayed up past midnight watching 5 hours of preliminaries before viewing the final rounds.

The importance of the Olympics is self-evident, and if you read this blog during the summer, you know how I feel about spelling bees. So here’s my question: Is “The Wire” in that same category of must-watch television? Will it justify the kind of time investment that I’ll need to catch up? I’d be interested to hear recommendations from anyone who has seen the show. And keep in mind that twice-weekly, two-hour American Idol episodes started this week as well – that show definitely factors into the equation. It’s getting to the point where I’d have to be the Dean Karnazes of TV watching to catch up with everything over one of these upcoming weekends.

(My goodness ... that’s over 700 words of intro. I guess at some point these ramblings should probably be a whole separate series of posts. Feel free to suggest topics. Meanwhile, let’s get to the main article. )

***

Today’s “official” post is a goofy bit of creative writing that appears in Thursday’s Monterey County Herald, about a group of rookie marathoners. For non-locals, Del Rey Oaks and Seaside are small towns neighboring the Monterey Peninsula. And if, after reading the piece, anyone can think of a better name for Scott, I’d love to hear it. I couldn’t think of anything that came close to rhyming with the word I wanted.


Running Life 1/18/07: “Dorothy from Del Rey Oaks”

This story may sound familiar; it’s the story of a lady we know. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Dorothy, who lives in Del Rey Oaks.

Dorothy was approaching middle-age and had just been through a messy divorce. Her self esteem was extremely low. She had gained weight over years and felt depressed all the time. She had no close friends to talk to other than her dear Aunt Emily.

Her only enjoyment came from walking her little dog Bobo around Roberts Lake in the morning before work. She would sometimes get lost in thought on her walks, and gradually started walking longer and longer distances.

One morning during her walk, Bobo broke loose from his leash. Dorothy ran to chase him, and made it halfway around the lake before a jogger helped out by scooping Bobo up and waiting for Dorothy. Dorothy could barely thank the man because she was so winded from the running, but afterward she felt exhilarated from the chase.

The next day Dorothy and Bobo saw the man again. She didn’t want to slow him down, so she tried jogging alongside him so they could talk. His name was Scott, and he worked as a night watchman. Scott said he wanted a better job, but his opportunities were limited because he dropped out of high school. He thought if he was only a little smarter, he could finish his education someday to advance his career.

Dorothy enjoyed the conversation and didn’t even realize she had jogged for about 20 minutes.

Scott and Dorothy began jogging together every other day, and soon ventured out on the Monterey recreation trail. One morning in Monterey they stopped upon a runner who seemed injured because of his stiff-legged stride. He wasn’t really hurt, but asked if he could run with them for a bit.

He said his name was Tim, but in high school, his track teammates called him “Tim the Man” because he used to be so fast. Tim explained that his joints occasionally felt stiff at the beginning of a run, but after he warmed up he would be fine. Dorothy noticed that he seemed to take in a lot of fluids when he ran.

Tim became a running partner of Scott and Dorothy. Tim had a sensitive side to him, and explained that he also had gone through a bad breakup. Sometimes he felt like his heart had been ripped right out of his body.

The group began meeting on weekends to run longer distances together. One Saturday, they ran all the way to Lover’s Point in Pacific Grove and stopped to look at the view. Bobo walked over to a man sitting in the grass, who started yelling profanities at the dog. Dorothy confronted the man, who apologized and began to cry.

He said his name was Leon, and he had just settled in Pacific Grove after living for a while in Africa. He had a job as a safari guide, but failed miserably when he realized he was terrified of almost all animals – even little dogs. Leon had lashed out at Bobo so he wouldn’t appear too cowardly.

Dorothy, Scott, and Tim asked Leon to join them on next weekend’s run. The four became close friends and running partners.

One January morning, Dorothy showed up with entry blanks for the Big Sur Marathon at the end of April. Her three partners had the following reactions:

Scott said, “I’m not smart enough to train correctly.”

Tim the Man said, “I don’t know if my heart is strong enough to do it.”

Leon said, “I’m scared that I might not finish.”

Dorothy said, “I hear that the Chairman of the Board, Hugo Ferlito, has run all 21 Big Sur Marathons. He stands at the finish line and helps hand out medals on race day. The guy’s some kind of running wizard. We can probably learn something from him.” Finally her partners agreed to enter the race.

Scott did some research and mapped out a training plan, even getting advice from some of those small, skinny runners he knew from the local running guild. He realized the group had to increase their training right away to have enough time to prepare.

They ran together for the next three months, and when the training miles got difficult, they came up with a mantra to help them continue: “Follow the hilly black road! Follow the hilly black road!”

Finally, marathon day arrived, and it was one of the worst weather days in Bug Sur history. The wind seemed strong enough to make houses fly. It was like a tornado out there! Dorothy commented, “Bobo - We’re not in Del Rey Oaks anymore.” It looked to be a real witch of a day.

But Dorothy and her friends persevered and finished the race. Scott had a smart race strategy of running easy in the early miles. Tim used a heart rate monitor to ensure a solid effort throughout the race. Leon showed great courage to battle through “the wall” at mile 22.

They all finished with their hands in the air and big smiles on their faces. And Hugo Ferlito, the wonderful wizard they heard about, handed each of them a finisher’s medal.

After the race, Dorothy realized that she had lost 25 pounds and regained her self esteem. Tim the Man felt like he was falling in love again. Scott returned to school, passed his high school equivalency exam, and enrolled in classes at Monterey Peninsula College. Leon took a job working with sharks at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Later that summer, they saw Hugo the Wizard running on the Rec Trail. They all graciously thanked him for the gifts they received.

And the wizard told them, “I didn’t give you anything that you didn’t already have inside you. It just took you 26.2 miles to find it.”

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Remember the Dream

"One man come in the name of love -
One man come and go -
One man come, he to justify -
One man to overthrow ... "

-U2, "Pride (In the Name of Love)"


By way of fair warning, this post doesn’t have anything to do with running. It's more like a public service announcement. I’ll try to keep it brief.

Before my 5-year-old daughter headed off to bed last night, she asked us, “How did people know about the dream that Martin had?” Her kindergarten teacher had obviously instilled some faint understanding of today’s holiday in her, but the overall meaning hadn’t entirely sunk in.

So on the way to her bedroom, I stopped at the computer and called her and her 8-year-old brother over. It took me about two seconds to Google a video of Dr King’s speech, and we sat and watched the whole thing.

I hadn’t watched the speech in its entirety in over 10 years, when I had to sign out a VHS video from Powell Library at UCLA, and watch the film in the library’s media center because the videos weren’t allowed off premises. It was a required assignment for my Speech 10 (Introductory Pubic Speaking) class.

So here’s yet another example of why we’re blessed to live in the information age: last night, I watched Dr King’s speech at the 1963 March on Washington with my son and daughter. And so can you. If you do nothing else to recognize today’s holiday, click this link, and spend 15 minutes watching the video. My eyes welled up when I first watched the speech in a cubicle at Powell Library – and last night, I felt the same emotion watching Dr King with my young kids.

Here’s the great thing about the speech: as young as my kids are, they got it. As powerful and passionate as the language is, the meaning is undeniably simple. Dr King wanted freedom where there was oppression. He wanted equality where there was unfairness. He wanted peace where there was discord.

Most importantly, they also understood that we still need these things today. It’s a good reminder for all of us.

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