Welcome to the Autumnal Equinox

To a runner, seasons are not dictated by a calendar.  I understand that in the truest definition, seasons result from the annual orbit of the Earth around the Sun and the tilt of the Earth's rotational axis relative to the plane of the orbit. An even firmer definition explains the equinox as that moment at which the sun crosses the celestial equator, when day and night are of equal length. So there is an exact moment in time when each season begins, and the previous one ends.  By that standard, the fall equinox occurred last night at 10:29 PM.  I say hogwash to that.

Despite what the calendar and science say, my seasons can change almost daily, depending on what’s happening on the other side of my window.  In the last two weeks, I have experienced all four seasons, and I refuse to call it summer when external indicators say something completely the opposite.  When I flew to Calgary on September 9th, I was snapping photos of snow-covered landscape only several hours after leaving behind a balmy Atlanta.  And just this weekend, local temperatures climbed into the upper 80’s.

Flying into Calgary on Sept 9, 2014.  Officially still summer!

In between, there has been a wide range of temperatures, from highs in the mid 80’s to lows in the upper 50’s.  Even within a single day, different temperatures mean different things to different runners.  I don’t particularly and personally care about daily highs, especially during the week, when I’m usually locked in a room during the sunniest and warmest hours of the day.  All I care about is the bottom line, the daily low, as that is when I will be out there, reflective vest and headlamp on, running my miles.

We had spotty samples of Autumn weather even in July and August this year, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  Each month, there were a couple of days when overnight lows dipped into the upper 50’s, a rarity, but after a day, it was back to the summer heat and humidity we have grown to despise.  It’s frustrating to still be sweating 20 minutes after a post-run shower, but that was what most of early September was like for me.  I had to sit around waiting to stop sweating before I could get dressed for work.

But now, it is late September, and there is more of a temporary permanency associated with a real change of seasons.  The last couple of mornings have hovered in the lower 60’s, and this morning, a clear star-filled sky and cooler drier air, with temperatures in the upper 50’s greeted me at the door.  The toll of the seemingly endless heat and humidity is lifting, and being replaced with a Canadian influence of more arid, more comfortable air.  How much nicer it is to wonder halfway through a run when the next one is going to be, instead of when this one is going to end.    

 This is the front door to my favorite time of year, possibly magnified because it leaves behind my least favorite season.  Soon, the air will get even crisper and the wind will have additional bite to it.  The leaves will start turning, that first run in long sleeves will take place, and full-fledged autumn will engulf us.  The memories of past wonderful autumn runs will flood my mind, dreams of future autumn runs will fill my imagination, and I will love every moment of it.  If I could box any season and make it last all year, this would be the one.  

Last Autumn at The Biltmore Estate-Asheville, NC

If you’ve been on the fence and looking for motivation to start running or even more importantly, to return to it, let this be your call to action.  Get, up, met moving, get out. 

Good luck.

I Will Never Again Claim to Be Back (But at Least I Am Here)

If you’ve followed my writing over the years, you’ll know three things about me

1)      I am a passionate runner

2)      I am a passionate writer

3)      In both running and writing, I have had high points and low points; times when I have been prolific, and times I have been dormant; times when the passion ran over the cup, and times when the cup dried up.

When one has a passion, it is genuine, but not always consistent.  It is a profound truth that passion cannot be faked.  Trying to exhibit passion when it has waned is a futile battle, and not worth the effort.  People see right through it.

After having genuinely felt the passion of both running and writing for years, and after reaching what I felt to be maximum heights in both, the energy that both created left me.  I think that, to some extent, it speaks to my overall personality.  I am the type of person who is very goal oriented, but upon achieving the goal, I move on to something else rather than trying to extend the accomplishment beyond what it already was. I will never run as fast as I did in my 20s, 30s, or 40s.  I will never even come close again.  I have earned all the writing awards I set out to achieve, and have been published in all the magazines I targeted, so I have no other writing goals. But in the back of my mind, I know I will always be a runner and I will always be a writer.

During my dry spells and through my mental blocks, I tried several times to try to conjure up passion when none existed, hoping that proclaiming its triumphant return would somehow box it in a corner and make it happen.  But as quickly as my “return to running and writing” was announced, it disappeared faster than a one hit wonder.  You can’t box passion into a corner and claim it as yours.

It’s funny how research bares out the truth.  In my mind, I say I have been a runner for a solid 30 plus years, until I go through the piles of running logs, and computerized spreadsheets that reveal a slightly contrasting story, one that has many blank pages paralleling the weeks, or months, or even years I didn’t run within the walls of those 30 plus years.  Although it is true that once you are a runner, you will a runner forever be, it does not mean you are always running.  So in reality, though I say I have been running for over 30 years, it includes several years where I either ran very sporadically or not at all.

A page from week two of my very first running log, 1982.  I still had everything to learn.  For the most part, I still do.

During my years of running, though, I have seen some consistencies as well, as enthusiasm waxed and waned within each decade.  I ran PR’s at various distances in my 20’s, 30’s and most recently, a day after by 49^th birthday, when a well-trained me ran a marathon PR.  Granted, the marathon was never my distance of choice or highest success.  Until that race, whenever anyone asked me what my marathon PR was, my answer would be “I don’t know.  I haven’t run it yet.”  But that race was still a shining moment, knowing at the starting line I had done my work, and I was ready to do something special.  And now, I know that it will always be my marathon PR.

But that was 10 years ago, and since then, I have been a runner of extremes, with years where I ran very little, years where I ran more than 50 races, and everything in between.  The running years have been dictated by various outside influences, some of a personal nature, some due to professional influences, and some where my body rebelled.

The last two years in particular, has been very difficult for running.  A career change made it difficult to find the time to run, and various injuries have stopped me in my tracks.  It was last September I was diagnosed with a stress fracture and quickly upon my return, I developed a torn Meniscus, which was a relatively minor injury, but it kept me from running and ultimately needed surgical repair, which was done in April of this year.

During that period of time, there was often a very real feeling at times that perhaps I would never be able to run again, and I’d either have to find something compatible to replace it, or find nothing and grow fat and old and miserable.  This was a very real feeling, and sometimes still is.  But I am gaining renewed hope as the healing process continues, a healing that seems to be about much more than just a knee. 

The first thing I am learning during recovery is that walking is not so bad, and in fact, can be just about as enjoyable as running.  At least now, I know I have a viable back-up if running truly does fail.  The second thing I am learning is that running an 11-minute mile can feel as good a running a 6-minute mile once did, because there is an appreciation that running is a gift, and the gift is not defined by pace alone.  As long as running keeps on giving, I will keep on living.  And the third thing I am learning is to never again be so hard on myself when it comes to running, to just let it happen, without fanfare, and without disappointment that I didn’t squeeze a few extra seconds out of a 5K race.  I’m not saying I won’t have future goals.  I already do.  But the true joy is not in the accomplishment of a goal.  It is in attempting to achieve it.

Another Top Ten Run

This morning, I ran three miles in a little over 29 minutes, and at this moment, I’m thinking it may just be one of my top ten runs of all time.  I realize that’s saying a lot.  I’ve been running since the early spring of 1982, and I’ve run hundreds of races, more than a handful of marathons, and of course, at some point, I’ve PR’ed at every distance I’ve run.  Plus, I’ve run this course many times before, and often, much faster than today.  So what made today’s run so special?

As I was thinking about the subject of top ten runs of all time, I found it very difficult to limit my list to ten mere runs out of the thousands I’ve done over the past 32 years. Many runs quickly came to mind., far more than the ten that compete for the top of the pile.  Some runs were races where I exceeded my expectations, and in some way, exceeded my abilities for a brief moment in time.  These were not always the best races in my life, but sometimes, they were the races that built the confidence that I could rise to the next level.  Other runs were runs that were overshadowed by the story surrounding them, like jumping a fence and suddenly finding myself on the front lawn of the Biltmore Estates, or running around a place called Goat Island and unexpectedly being face to face with Niagara Falls.  Yet other memorable runs were punctuated by  something simple, like catching a shooting star, or a bright rainbow, or a fox crossing right in front of me. 

Yet other runs were memorable because of the people I did them with.  My first marathon with Kelli was almost an hour from my fastest, but will always be remembered as a most memorable one.  Helping my father to PR times thirty years ago still burn brightly in my mind.  My thrill for his accomplishments are equal to or greater than for my own, and I still smile when he glowing recalls a specific 5K race in under 24 minutes all these years later.  Then there was the Reach the Beach 200 mile relay race in New Hampshire, with a team if Internet friends who all pulled together and had a real bonding experience in the process.

So in reality, my top ten list is probably comprised of at least 25 runs. Once a run achieves top ten status, it can’t be pushed out by another run, so the list grows.  But before this morning, it’s been years since a single run achieved such status.  So what made this morning’s innocent-looking, seemingly uneventful run so special?  More than anything else, it is the history behind it.

The last year and a half has been a painful period of time for this runner.  A new job slowly knocked me off of my running routine, so much so that it switched from a lifestyle to a sporadic occurrence.  The passion left me, and what remained was a lack of desire to do what had become a habit over the years.  There had been times in my life when I didn’t know how not to run.  It was a main fiber of who I was.  But now, every time was an effort, and felt more like a chore than a desire.

Then, my running body started to fail me.  First was a stress fracture of my big toe that disabled me for about two months, followed by a torn meniscus in my left knee, which was finally surgically repaired in late April.  I felt like I was never going to run again.  My feet and legs hurt almost all the time, and even walking and standing were painful. But I did not give up.

After the surgery, I started walking, and found I liked it more than I had expected. It provided a lot of the same benefits as running, such as a sense of well-being and accomplishment, and I found I had the same desire to walk farther and faster each walk, just like I had experienced with running three decades earlier.  Slowly, I gained confidence to start mixing running back in with my walking, first a minute at a time, then extending from there.  I won’t say it was nothing but forward progress, because there were minor setbacks along the way, but I stayed with it.

About three weeks ago, I decided to start getting up early again to run before work, something I had not done since I started this job a year ago January.  Getting up at 5:00 just to beat Atlanta traffic to get to work was daunting enough, but I decided to get up at 4:40, run three miles, and sit in traffic due to my later start to work.  I had ultimate goals in mind when I started, but the runs started very slow, and sometimes involved walking.  Runs of 32 minutes or longer were not uncommon for my 3-mile runs.  My three immediate to short term goals were to find the passion again in running, to break 30 minutes for three miles, to drop my weight from 180 pounds to 170 pounds by the end of September and to run a 5K in under 28 minutes by the first weekend of October.

This morning, I woke up thinking that today might be the day to run under 30 minutes for three miles.  The temperature was a little cooler and drier than it has been, and I was rested from taking yesterday off.  My normal 3-mile route is mostly downhill for the first mile, and mostly uphill for the second mile, with the third mile relatively flat.  I usually know by my 1-mile split how the rest of the run is going to go.  When I hit the 1-mile mark in 9:52, I was actually doubtful I was going to make my goal.  My recent experience has been that if I run my first mile under 10, I’m already tired and slow badly the second, uphill mile.   But I felt better today than I have been, so tried to keep the pace on the uphill and see what I had left for the last mile.  I ran the 2^nd mile in 9:50, a very nice surprise, and still felt strong, so I knew I had my goal.  I picked it up the last mile, finishing with a 9:26, and still felt good at the finish.  I felt like old times.

So, top ten run of all time?  OK, maybe not, but it did get me thinking about the past and the future, the elements passion is made of.  I still have two goals to go.  My weight is now 174, so I’m 60% of the way there with a month to go. And on October 4^th, I’m going to make my attempt at a sub 28 5K, a time I would have been embarrassed to have publicized for most of my running life, but now, could very well be my next top ten run.  I’m looking forward to September training in cooler weather, and hoping my knee, which feels pretty good right now, will stay that way.

Stay tuned. 

Looking ahead to 60

This weekend, Kelli and I are visiting Mom and Dad in Asheville, NC.  While we’re there, we’ll be running the Maggie Valley Moonlight Run.  It’s a fitting combination.  I can’t avoid but to think about dad and running in the same entwined thought.  Our history dovetails with running, or at least it has  for the last 32 years. As for the race, I can’t say I’m ready for it.  Far from it.  The furthest run I’ve done since my surgery is three miles.  I’ve gone longer, but not without walking.  But I’ll be at the starting line, and I’ll cross the finish line, and somewhere within, I’ll navigate the five up and down miles in between.  And this race will represent a starting point in my running rejuvenation.

I have found that establishing running goals have become more challenging as I have gotten older.  I’ll never run as fast as I once did, and I’ll probably never run as far either.  Every year sees me slipping further and further back in the pack, and the reasons are two-fold.  It is partly because my priorities have changed, but it is at least partially due to the fact that I’m just not as willing invest the hard work as I did when new goals were fresh, and PR’s were still in front of me.

But a couple of days ago, I became newly inspired by something that happened close to 30 years ago.

My father turned 60.

Why is that inspiring to me?  Because a year from October, I’ll be turning 60, and when I do, I want to be just like him.  Let me explain.

Dad and I first started racing together when he was in his mid 50s and I was in my mid 20s.  We were both still in New York then, and Dad and I used to meet in Central Park to race once or twice a month.  I used to pace him often, and pulled him to some very impressive age group times.  I never appreciated quite how good his times were until years later, when I started to slow down, and realized I couldn’t run the times he ran in his 50s when I was the age he used to be.  But back then, I was young and ignorant, and still thought I was the one who was going to beat this age thing and never slow down.  In my mid 20s, I could run run 7-minute miles without much effort, so I thought dad’s 8-minute miles were rather pedestrian.  I was sure I’d still be running 7-minute miles in my 50s.   

Boy, was I wrong!

The other day, I was playing around with the web site Athlinks.com and came across some interesting data regarding my father.  Fortunately, the New York Road Runners Club was ahead of its time when it came to computerization, and was spitting out electronic results long before most races.  And some of these results make it to the Athlinks.com database.  My jaw dropped when I saw some of dad’s race results from when he was 60.  They were impressive, to say the least. 

NYRRC Computer Run-5 mile- 40:27

Perrier 10K- 49:43

Staten Island Half Marathon- 1:50:52

In comparison, I have not run a 10K as fast as that since I was 54, and I have not run a half marathon faster than that since I was 49.  I was 48 the last time I was close to dad’s 5 mile time at age 60.   And my times in all distances have only gotten slower since then.  I have not broken two hours for a half marathon in several years, and I’d be hard pressed to break an hour in a 10K at the moment. 

But as I studied his times from when he was 60, and thought about it, I found myself getting excited at the thought of making my goals when I’m 60 match his achievements when he was there.  Could I possibly still whip myself into shape to run a 50 minute 10K or a 1:50 half marathon when I turn 60?  It would take a dedicated effort, and probably the help of a good coach.  When I used a coach 10 years ago, I ended up running my marathon PR a day after my 49^th birthday.  It seems like a lifetime ago now since I was in the shape I was then.  It was 30 pounds ago, and my resting heart rate

was under 40. 

Can I do it?  I have a year to find out, and it’s going to be a fun one.

Top 5 reasons to Run in the Rain

Every day now, I seem to be taking additional steps to shake the softness that has crept into my running life the past few years.   It started far before the surgery, and every day seemed to pull me further and further from the athlete I used to be.  For what seems like a long time now, I had been finding every excuse to NOT run, and I was settling into a life of comfort and leisure.

But the last few weeks, a spark has been ignited, and I am working my way out of this comfort zone and back into the life of a runner. The knee surgery was a success, and I've worked my way back to being the runner of passion that I used to be.  It was very hard at first, a quarter mile peppered into my walks, then, as I tested the waters more, the running started to come back slowly.   I've been answering the 4:50 AM call to hit the roads about every day, and though I have a long way to go, I am now going to bed every night expecting to start the next day with a run.

This morning, I added a new level to the discomfort, doing something I once never thought twice about, and in fact, looked forward to.  This morning, for the first time in forever, I did a run in the rain.  It took me by surprise.  I didn't even know it was raining until I opened the front door to go for my run.  I didn't even reconsider for a fraction of a second.  I was out, playing in it right away.

I have written about the virtues of running in the rain in the past.  I love doing it, once I'm out in it.  It's invigorating, refreshing, and it always leaves a warm memory once completed.  SO while I was running and thinking, I came up with the top five reasons for running in the rain.

5) You don't have to carry water

4) You don't need to take a shower when you're done.

3) Your running route is suddenly your triathlon route

2) No worries about getting a Farmer's Tan

And the Number 1 reason to enjoy a run in the rain.

1) You don't have to hold your pee until you finish.  Who will know?

Think about that the next time you try to talk yourself out of a run in the rain!

First Steps Back

As I slowly opened my eyes, I could feel the tube being removed from my mouth, and it was done. 

The last thing I remembered before this was a mask being placed over my nose, and about five breaths in and five breaths out.  Then this.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, an aching and slightly torn left meniscus had been repaired, and my left leg had been wrapped in gauze and tight bandaging from my upper thigh to my foot.  And an opportunity to return to my old self was created.  Even an old self was a better prospect than no self.  A simple arthroscopic surgery in less than an hour returned the hope that I will again run like the wind, or at my age, at least like an old fart.  Any kind of wind would be an improvement from the dark side of surgery.

I was stunned when, about 10 minutes later, I was told “get up and walk to your car.”  I was expecting at the very least a wheelchair, which I had incorrectly assumed was standard procedure for any surgery.  I’ve never seen anyone released from a hospital who exited any other way, but this was an outpatient clinic, and I guess they have a different set of rules.  But being ordered to walk out of knee surgery, even before standing up?  That was surprising.

I lifted myself from the bed, and though I walked gingerly to the awaiting car, nothing hurt, and I could immediately put full weight on the left knee.  It felt weak, but it felt great.  Those steps to the car were my first steps in a recovery process I plan to document regularly, for two reasons.  First, I want to praise the wonders of modern medicine as it applies to me.  I see it every day in my career from a third person point of view.  Second, I want to hold myself accountable to what I am promising to myself, and that is to do everything in my power to make all the right choices in my road to recovery.

I am a non-clinician who is constantly in a clinical environment, spending all my traveling time in outpatient clinics, acute hospital settings, and in emergency departments.  I see the miracles that providers and clinicians perform on other patients every day, but this time, I have been the recipient.  

Ironically, Orthopedic Surgeons have always been my favorite group to work with, and that’s not about to change any time soon.

I am a runner, and have been for over 30 years.  At times, it has defined me; at times it has abandoned me; at times, it has thrilled me, and at times it has killed me.  But every step of the way, it has somehow led me to where I am at this moment.  Running has taken me many, many places I would have never have otherwise been, and I am not just speaking geographically.  It has helped define my circle of friends, it has defined several vertebrae of my backbone as a person, and it has defined a spiritually that I would have never found any other way.  It has helped me to build a great rapport with many other likeminded people, and it has found me love.

Yesterday, leg still wrapped, I walked about a half a mile, to the end of my street, and back home.  It was a start.  It left much opportunity for improvement.  It left a positive and hopeful feeling.  The whole way, I just shook my head and thought “One day removed from knee surgery, and I can do this.”  This morning, the bandage came off, and I laughed to see the initials of the performing surgeon still written on my calf.  Everything looked great.  Just a couple of stitches on either side of my knee, where I am assuming pinhole-sized incisions were made.  Just puncture wounds.  Amazing.  I am looking forward to the shower I’ll be taking after I finish writing this.  It won’t erase the marks of the incisions, but it was erase the mark of the artist.

My wife Kelli has been missing me on the roads.  We have always trained together, but in recent months, she has trained alone.  This past weekend, my forever bucket list race, Big Sur, went on without me.  I was there, but did not participate. Kelli had to run it without me, but I strongly feel, she also ran it for me.  She took wonderful pictures the whole way, and made it to the finish line in great shape.  Head’s up Sally Smith, we will be back next year, and will BOTH bring home finisher’s medals.

Kelli has also been a wonderful support for me, partly because she misses me running with her, partially because she is tired of my complaining about not running, but mostly because she wants me to once again be whole, and for me, wholeness requires running.  We woke this morning to a beautiful Atlanta spring sunrise.  Kelli decided to take her long ignored bike for an hour ride.  And I decided to walk some of the route I have been running for the past 11 years, since my current residence became home.  I chose this house in large part because it afforded the opportunity to walk out the front door and do a 24 mile training run.  That’s how important running has always been to be.  Most key decisions of my adult life have at least considered running.

The walk started cautiously, but by a mile, it became cautiously optimistic, as I gained confidence and stared favoring my left knee a little less as I warmed up.  By the time I finished my second mile, I was flooded with feelings and satisfaction similar to a 5K PR.  Two miles gave me 50 minutes to flood my head with positive thoughts, which I hope to share as I begin my journey back to running.  Just the feeling that, at 58 years old, I have the same sense of unlimited opportunity for improvement from where I am today as I did as a rookie runner, just learning my full potential over 30 years ago, is comforting.

So for now, I have no performance goals except to improve and get stronger.  I can’t yet lay down the gauntlet and declare a future distant marathon goal, or when or even if I will run my next 5K.  But I can control the things I can, such as diet, cross-training, commitment to improve, commitment to stay positive, and commitment to do everything I can to angle the odds in my favor that other goals will soon be out there.  So I hold myself accountable to that and that alone for now.  I am already excited about the prospect of my next walk.  It’s a great feeling, and one I have been dearly missing.  As in all things, everything will happen a day at a time.

Thank you for joining me in this journey.

30 Years Running

I stopped making New Year’s Resolutions years ago.  I came to a realization at some point that these New Year vows were just too black and white, with only two options.  Either you kept them or you broke them.  And that latter always prevailed, resulting in a feeling of failure, and an action of backsliding.  I decided at some point that life handed you enough natural failures without proactively creating any artificial ones.

I’m not saying the every new year doesn’t bring new hopes.  It’s very difficult to count down the waning days of an old year without reflection and introspection, as you look back on the rapidly expiring old year, and look forward to the first days of the next one with new hope and a feeling of starting over again with a clean slate.

So instead of resolutions, I now make goals, a term I like much better.  It leaves a lot more gray area, and creates wiggle room for partial achievements.  I can live with that.  With a goal, there is a lot of room between total success and total failure.  You can even surpass a goal, if you allow yourself that freedom.

In a very small way, I experienced that yesterday.  Kelli and I went for a planned 6-miler around our neighborhood yesterday morning, and around four miles in, we both realized we felt pretty good, so we decided on the fly to add an extra mile, and closed out the old year with a solid 7-miler.  Not a real game-changer, but it felt good just the same.

I often use my running time for deep thought.  Introverts are that way.  The simple act of running is, at once physically draining, and mentally invigorating.  My greatest inspirations have occurred during the run, and those insights have spawned some of my better achievements in life.  And there is no question that not only am I a better person through running, but running has impacted every aspect of my life for the better.  Without running, I would have had a completely different life, and it would have been nowhere as full.

So yesterday, while we ran, I was reflecting on my running past, and how running’s lessons become life’s lessons.  Just about anything one needs to know about life can be learned within the run.  Running is a powerful teacher as long as the student is ready. 

As the run continued, my thoughts moved forward to today, the first day of 2012. It was 30 years ago, 1982, when I first committed to running and racing, and my life changed forever.  That’s a lot of years of life lessons.  I can vividly remember those early days of running, and how in awe I was of the runners I met who had already been at it for 20 years or more.  I truly never thought that would someday be me.

I’ve blogged my running thoughts in the past, but over time, much like running, writing presents its own set of challenges.  It becomes more and more difficult as time passes to find fresh topics that no one else has already written about.  It is even more difficult as the years pass to come up with new thoughts that YOU have not already written about. And the whole time, it is a test to present the thoughts in a way that someone else might have an interest in reading.

By the time our run was done, I had made three firm decisions.  I knew I was going to climb up to our attic and pull down 30 years of old running T-shirts that been sitting there for years.  I knew I was going to pull out 30 years of old running logs. (only the last 10 or so have been electronic) as supporting documentation.  And I knew that I was going to use said T-shirts and running logs in support of my new goal for the new year, which will be to jump-start my writing again by recounting my first 30 years of running.  I accomplished the first two missions within an hour of finishing the run.  Achieving the third will take time, but today is hopefully the start.

The irony is that for those early years of running, I remember almost every run vividly.  Without reviewing logs, I could probably rattle off every race I did those first couple of years, what my time was, and what the T-shirt looked like.  Every run had its own uniqueness, and created its own memory.  It was much like the start of a love affair.  Every run took on its own significance. 

On one of the running groups I belong to on Facebook, someone asked a few days ago why bloggers blog about running.  It made me think and wonder why I stopped blogging several years ago, and came to the conclusion that I reached a point that I just didn’t have anything interesting to blog about.  My blog cycle had run its course.  But what I read from responses is that I really do still have a lot to say, 30 years worth, and I may be approaching a time of life to start saying it again.

I have 30 years of history to recall, 30 years of inspiration to share, 30 years of races to recount, and 30 years of documenting runners behaving like runners.  I have 30 years of lessons learned, 30 years of successes and occasional failures, and 30 years of motivation for new runners who today are in the exact same place I was 30 years ago, and I can provide 30 years worth of reasons to stick with it for the next 30 years.  I think I am qualified. 

Today, the first day of 2012, Kelli and I went to the New Years at Noon 5K in Athens, GA.  I almost talked us out of going, citing comfort and laziness as reasons, but we decided at the last minute to go.  We ran, Kelli much better than me, as is usually the case.  In 30 years I have slowed more than I would have guessed, but it has not diminished the desire to continue running for the next 30 years.  This will be one of the many focuses I’m sure I’ll be writing about from time to time.

It’s funny how the cosmic energy of the universe pulls in a certain direction from time to time.  After the race, I was approached by Tim Bagley, who asked me if I would consider writing a blog for his new web site.  It confirmed that my goal for the new year is a valid one.

Funny you mention that, Tim.  I think I just might. 

What do you think?