Afoot at the Finish Line

Here's me hoofing it home at the frozen Phoenix Marathon back in January.

Over the last several miles, the course passes through a neighborhood that deftly blends desert scrub with industrial wasteland. You can rest your weary eyes on a huge power plant, highway bridges, and sharp plants. Very few people cheer in these parts. However, fewer distractions allow more time to focus on physical and metal discomfort.

Fortunately, Ironman Kate Martini ran me in the last 6.2 miles. She didn't tolerate loafing and knocked five minutes off my finish time by pulling me along in her wake.

Note the cap turned youthfully backwards. I did that around mile 25 and can't remember why. (It's not as if I were racing so fast my hat was about to flutter off.) In any case, no one should be held responsible for their actions in the last stages of a marathon.

Within reason, of course.

Pre-Phoenix Marathon Photo 2007

Campaign manager Melissa of the Winter Team just posted this photo from Phoenix. It is probably around 5:30 AM. We're gathered in the lobby of our hotel, waiting to be bussed to the marathon start line. We already know it's stinking cold out. We don't yet know it's 29 degrees and that we'll be milling around outdoors for over an hour waiting to run.

I love the lights and reflective glow stuff. It's like we're at a convention for Radioactive Runners.

TNT Winter '07 Recap

Final practice today for Team in Training, San Gabriel Valley, Greater Los Angeles, 2006/07. A handful of Phoenix veterans including Cesar, Dan Fastrup, Megan, Shannon and Tom modeled marathon and half-marathon medals for the Spring Team. Spring was about to embark on a chilly, eighteen-mile training run. We, on the other hand, took a leisurely "victory" walk around the Rose Bowl with coaches Katie, Kate and Mel.



I thought of my marathon and how I breezed through the first 15 miles. Then I fought sundry pains for the next five. Coach Kate met me at mile 20. We ran in from there, dropping walk breaks because they were too uncomfortable. We finished hard, passing most runners in the last 1.2 miles. I wobbled across the timing mat, woozy because all spare blood had drained to my legs. Kate held me up. I had knocked one hour and 40 minutes off my previous marathon time.

Sure, I'd run a strong marathon, but I was ready. I had trained hard since my cast came off in May. At first I aqua ran and worked out in the gym. In July I could run again, though not very well. Throughout the late summer and fall, I built myself up, adding hills and track and weekly tempo runs. I lifted weights and my injured leg was stronger than ever. The coaches gave me extra homework like "ladders" and interval runs. In the last week, I added mental workouts, visualizing myself overcoming obstacles during the race. Plus I had the benefit of having completed a marathon.

Furthermore I was unemployed, thus fat with time to train.

Still, my teammates' marathons were more inspiring.

They didn't have my preparation. The majority were tackling an endurance event for the first time. Many of them carried nagging injuries and all the doubt and uncertainty that brings. Megan, for example, had been hurt all season and hadn't run beyond 16 miles. The day before the marathon she was thinking of quitting after half. But on race day Megan pushed herself and commited to 26.2 miles. Dan and Mary, also dogged by injuries, ran with her. They brought each other through.

Then there was Dan Fastrup, marathon veteran, who'd just lost his wife to lymphoma in November. He gave up his own marathon time to stay with two teammates and see them safely across the finish line.

The same thing happened in Hawaii, where speedy Ryan Lim held himself back and ran/walked injured teammate Matt to the completion of his first marathon.



In the end, we all finished what we started.

A lot of heart, this Winter Team.

Frigid Start for Phoenix Marathon

Big darn anchor.

Predawn in downtown Phoenix; twenty-nine degrees. The marathon began from Wesley Bolin Plaza. In the plaza's center rested the anchor from the battleship Arizona. Runners huddled near this cold metal object, shivering in their trash bags.

I wasn't one.

I was shivering over by the UPS gear-check trucks. They would haul everyone's stuff to the finish line near Tempe's Sun Devil Stadium. Along with TNTers Cesar and Angie, we killed time talking about how stinking cold it was.

The previous afternoon, Coach Katie had presented me with two pace charts. One was for 4 hours and 30 minutes on the nose. The other was a bit more ambitious: 4 hours and 24 minutes. I was shooting for the latter time.

As the sun rose, seven thousand runners reluctantly said 'good-bye' to their warm clothes and lined up for the race. The mayor of Phoenix delivered a cheery message that came out garbled over the loudspeakers. I don't know what he said. He could've still been drunk from a fundraiser and admitted to shooting his wife. But everyone cheered anyway. It warmed the lungs.

A few women sang our national anthem a capella and off we ran. I was excited. I'd been waiting 13 months for this marathon and still couldn't believe it had just started. Rather than marvel over the obvious, I urged myself to take the first mile slow.

The day would soon warm up.

I hoped.










(Photo by Meghan Kroneman)

Nailed the Phoenix Marathon

Beyond expectations. A morose freezing start; a long chilly run; some welcome help at mile 20; and the last 6.2 miles at a hard, blood-draining pace. All that and more made this a marathon to remember.

I shattered my goal of four and a half hours to wobble across the finish line in 4 hours, 21 minutes and 45 seconds.

Thank you Jeff, K, and everyone else for your support and encouragement.

I'm still visiting family and friends in Phoenix as well as nursing sore hip flexors.

Many great stories to tell.

I'll get posting tomorrow evening.

. . . Gone! Phoenix Marathon a Wrap

Another Ribbon

Dale came out to California to be a rock star. He never got famous but he did get work. Dale played guitar in different bands and made a nice living as a promoter. He would book musicians such as the last living member of Canned Heat or Ike Turner for venues down in Long Beach. I've known him 13 years and he only has two speeds: fast and extremely fast.


I just got back from the hospital. Dale had a tumor removed from his colon this week. The pathology report stated that some of the tumor jumped to a nearby lymph node. He's diagnosed as Stage 4 - not good. However the doctors feel the cancer is isolated enough to respond to treatment. Dale faces six months of chemo.

When he's back home, I'll let Dale know about the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. He already knows I run for "some cancer thing." Now he'll find out how the money I raise with Team in Training helps support victims and their families. I'll also be adding Dale's name to a ribbon I'm wearing this Sunday. He'll be in good company next to Melanie Fastrup.

And I'll be running more than a marathon. I'll be running in honor of one survivor who lost her fight with cancer and in support of another survivor who is just beginning.

Ready for Phoenix Marathon Plus TV Animation Work

Ready . . . set . . . . Ran my last training miles today: an EZ four. Very difficult to go slow, but I tried keeping my pace down to match the first 10 to 13 miles of the marathon.

Work has chosen this moment to pick up. (Any time work picks up is a good time.) I have a meeting next Friday that should bring in a little development money. And if the idea I develop gets bought, then I'll have a fine show to work on as producer or story editor.

Also I'm brushing up an old animated series concept for a pitch to Disney.

As a result, I'll have to bring my laptop to Phoenix.

But work will take my mind off the race.

Then give me something to look forward to when it's over and the depression sets in.

Thoughts on Upcoming Second Marathon

That's that again. Last TNT practice today. We ran eight miles that felt short and easy. All has been said and done. There's nothing left but the race next Sunday. I'm excited, scared, impatient; giddy in a manly way.

Training serves as the ante. The marathon is the game. The rules are fluid. It could be nothing you imagined or exactly as planned. There are so many imponderables, not least being mental outlook. That's where I faltered last year. Yes, the humidity in Hawaii zapped me and I wobbled to a stop. But I wasn't prepared to deal with adversity. My training had gone smooth and injury free. Too smooth. Mr. Trouble had never come around.

Out there on the sun-washed asphalt of Honolulu, as runners streamed past, I stopped checking my watch. I shuffled along, no longer caring when I finished — until I finished. Then I knew I could've watered up, pushed myself and run a bit more. Quitting still eats at me like a chubby tape worm.

All I can do is run my best marathon, The results will take care of themselves.

Last Track Session Before Phoenix.

Last night was our final track practice. Very light workout. Jerry and I were the first to arrive. As we warmed up, Jerry gave me his marathon anti-cramp recommendations: bring plenty of salt tablets and vary the pace.

Then off to the Soup Plantation for soups and such. Teammate Jennifer, who ran Honolulu, showed up with a cake. I forget the occasion, but she baked it herself and it was pretty darn good.

I'm concentrating now on mental training. I visualize running smoothly with good form. Using more T'ai Chi and yoga breathing exercises helps keep me centered.

Oh, and trying to earn some money this year. That's also a good thing to focus on.