To Marathon Finishers

I present this little gem to all who just finished the LA Marathon.

Rich Human Moments

Showed up for a shift manning the Team in Training booth at the LA Convention Center. Loads of folk walked around with their goodie bags as the city gears up for this Sunday's marathon. Our booth neighbor was Pacifico Beer. Guys were lining up there to get pictures taken with two hot babes in cheer-leading outfits. TNT gave out free chap stick if you signed up for more information. Somehow the Pacifico Beer line was always longer.

Yesterday, an electrician arrived to replace a few light fixtures. He was a colorful old guy and we got to talking. Turned out he'd survived the Nazis in his native Hungary. He and a group of three hundred kids were slated to be shot when the Red Army arrived. The execution was cancelled and the Germans were chased out by the Soviets, who decided to stick around Budapest for the next 45 years. Just before the Communists locked the country down, his family escaped in the middle of the night. He drifted around the world from Germany to Palestine to Canada and, finally, the U.S.

"My father spoke nine languages," he told me. "Now, my mother: she was an idiot. She only spoke eight languages."

He was very proud of his children and grandchildren. His son, when in his 20s, had been placed in charge of a telemarketing office with dozens of employees. Concerned, he went to his electrician father and said: 'I'm just a kid. How can I give orders to people in their 30s and 40s?'

As his father related: 'I said to him, think of our rabbi. He is young and yet he is in authority. That is because he has greater knowledge than others who may be older. Trust those who have promoted you. And remember that your authority does not give you the right to belittle anyone."

"That's very wise," I said.

He shrugged. "You know what my son did? He went to work the next day, called all the older employees into his office, and beat them with a stick."

We had a good laugh.

Plus he replaced my light fixtures.

Weary with Moving

All this moving, cleaning, coordinating painters, electricians, termite slayers has worn me down. Much like mile 22 of a marathon, the goal no longer outweighs fatigue and quitting seems not only reasonable but long overdue. Plus I haven't worked in six months and have zero interest in writing anything other than an occasional post right here.

But, like mile 22, on I go.

Hot TV Night

So I'm watching television this evening when the set suddenly quits with a wierd pop. There's a high-pitched whine and smoke fills the air. I yank the power strip cord out of the wall and open an outside door to clear the smoke. I'm still enjoying tachycardia. On the bright side, a dead TV is one less item to move.

Lost in a Drizzle

Ran from Brentwood to Marina del Rey and back today. That's a 20-mile run — or 22.1 if you miss a turn-off like I did. Weather was chilly and wet, good for running but not for runners with glasses. (I needed tiny wiper blades.) A fair portion of the course was along the Venice Beach boardwalk. My company consisted of other runners, dog-walkers, seagulls, cops and bums. And while the sea was hidden behind a wall of gray, you could hear the surf boom-hiss against the shore.

A note on Westside/beach runners: they generally seem much faster and less friendlier than Rose Bowl runners. I usually smile at runners in passing and get a smile back, but there were a lot of dour faces along San Vicente and the boardwalk. Maybe it's the local parking situation in that there isn't any.

Next week is a most-welcome rest period. My long run will be 12 fine miles. Then back to 16-18-20 two more times. I'll either pr in Eugene or explode. I'm leaning toward the pr. Should I explode, I'll still have to box up and move the pieces.

TNT '08 Coaching and Training

Four. That's how many miles the team ran today. Positioned at the turn-around point beneath the 210 Freeway, I greeted all as they doubled back after two miles. This was followed by a stretching clinic in which I learned interesting positions that hurt.

As for my last post, a consultation with Coach Kate revealed that I had, in fact, run 20.2 miles and not the aftermentioned 18. That in no way alters any of the thoughts mentioned.

Now back to moving.

Thoughts While Running 18 Miles Today

"14 is far enough. I'll train harder next week."

"Half-marathons are more my speed."

"What's the point in this?"

"I'll just aim for a modest pr at Eugene. No need to pick-up the pace."

"Why not extend every walk break another minute or so?"

"If I throw myself over this embankment, I'll probably get hurt and have a good excuse for quitting."

"Not every marathon has to be a pr. I can pr at Pasadena this fall."

"Screw prs. What do I have to prove?"

"My feet are hot."

TNT Summer Team '08

First practice today for the summer Team in Training. Very exciting for me to be onboard as an assistant coach. I remember standing around on a hot August morning three years ago wondering what the heck I'd gotten myself into. Now I see other people thinking the same darn thing.

Participants ran their 5 kilometer pace assement. I hung out on the last mile and ran with many part of the way. Fascinating to see the reactions: the majority were tired but upbeat, a few curt, one or two sullen. Still, everyone made it and adjourned to a pot luck breakfast.

I have officially declared "moving" to be a form of cross-training. I carry heavy boxes up and down stairs, bend, lunge, squat, and crawl to dismantle various things around the house. Despite my weekly running miles, I'm quite sore come day's end. Perhaps the Olympics will carry "moving" as a trail sport this year.

Sick of Stinking Boxes

I dream of them. We're packing up all our junk so painters and carpet cleaners can get in and do their thing. TNT kickoff was Saturday and training begins this week. As assistant coach, I'll be hanging around until the last runner finishes, then squeeze in my own training. Plus there's the matter of writing. I'm behind and need to pump up production on five book chapters, a short story, and a new sit-com pilot. But mostly I need boxes. Stinking boxes.

Refreshing Pause

Friend Ken sent me this awesome bit of improv.

Don't Say His Name Out Loud

One of the episodes we commented on yesterday was "Candle Jack," written by Paul Rugg. Paul really had a feel for using stock footage. Scott Jeralds directed and Kenneth Mars guest-starred.

Freak-a-Commentary

At a sound stage in Hollywood, Tom Ruegger, Paul Rugg and myself provided DVD commentary on several first season episodes of Freakazoid! The DVD is due to be released this summer. I learned things I hadn't known working on the show. For example, composer Richard Stone gave Tom the melody for the main title and Tom then wrote lyrics to match. (Winning an Emmy in the process.)

Paul kept the session moving with leading questions and compliments. Tom filled in with his knowledge of the artwork and what went into the making of each episode. I mostly sharked along, looking for spots to shoehorn in one-liners. In any case, I was reminded that animation can be fun and miss working with Tom and Paul. But I shall always be proud to say that I once wrote for the guy with lightning in his hair.

Fighting Back

Rosina just died from leukemia. While her family mourns, you can join the battle against this disease. On Saturday, Feb. 2, the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society'sTeam in Training will commence their summer season. For 20 years, people have signed up with Team in Training in order to fund raise and participate in endurance events. This season particpants may choose between the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon and the Mayor's Midnight Sun Marathon in Alaska. (There are also cycling and triathalon events at different locales.) The money raised helps smack down blood cancers. The marathon you complete will change you deeply. And, somewhere along the way, the teammates you encounter become friends.

I'll be an assistant run coach for the San Gabriel Valley Marathon Team. If you live anywhere in the LA area, head down to the Culver City Veterans Center, 4117 Overland Ave., Culver City, CA 90230. The event begins at 9:00 AM and there are teams located all across the city. Nothing will bring Rosina back, but let her memory motivate us not to be passive in the face of cancer. We can take the initiative in this fight. We can do it as Team.

Spirit of the Marathon Review

While up in Washington, my family and I caught a showing of the above-titled film. The movie followed runners ranging from rookies to Olympian Deena Kastor to Kenyan Daniel Njenga as they trained to run the 2005 Chicago Marathon. There was some marathon history and comments from top runners, including the distance dudes of my youth: Frank Shorter and Bill Rodgers. Spirit conveyed a sense that the distance measures the runner in many ways and that the experience is transformative. My favorite moment involved a first-timer telling her friends she was training for a marathon. They asked, "Do you think you'll win?" A theater full of runners roared with laughter.

I'm Not Lion

Apparently, the hills are alive with the sound of cougars. Mountain lion sightings are being reported around my running trails in the San Gabriel foothills. Perhaps the recent storms are washing panthers into our midst? Thanks to former TNT teammate Jeff for this interesting tidbit.

Frosty Running in Washington State

Still up near Olympia, Washington visiting family. Daytime temperatures linger in the teens and 20s. I thought the Phoenix Marathon was cold but today I ran 14 miles on chilly backcountry roads. Frost everywhere, horses in the fields standing head down, motionless as marble carvings. Mt. Rainer rose to the east like a huge white triangle. Dogs ran along split-rail fences, barking as I passed. A gray and black cat slunk across a two-lane, asphalt road, ducking under a fence and into a wrecked out-building, watching me warily from behind a board as I loped on.

Though light, traffic was occasionally a hazard. Certain roads are shoulder-free and I zig-zagged from side-to-side seeking the widest shoulder and trying to avoid cruising around a blind corner into a F-150 pick-up pulling a horse trailer.

Running negative splits, I stopped run/walks and picked up the pace for the last two miles. Most of this distance was on a straight away between Douglas Firs and Western Red Cedars. A Federal Express panal truck drove past me. The driver waved as Mt. Rainer filled the background behind him.

Afterwards, stretching out in the cold, early afternoon, I realized almost two-and-a-half hours had passed and I had hardly seen a single person. Only folk in pick-ups and SUVs, a gas truck, and a county crew that looked lost.

Still and all, a very nice long run.

I'm In A State of Washington

Mount Rainer on a rare sunny day in the Pacific Northwest.

Training for Eugene

Yesterday was my first timed run in almost two months. I looped the Rose Bowl in 24:52. That's a 5K distance (3.1 miles). I was very pleased with the results. This marks the official start of my training for the Eugene Marathon. I will shatter the four-hour mark.

My fine wife and I shared pizza last night and planned our next moves. There's much to be done in order to stage the house for sale. I want to nap instead. Nevertheless, off we go into a new stage of life.

Writing lags. I have another project in addition to my book and short story: an original, live-action sit-com script. Changes in the animation industry include the arrival of live-action executives. They have little trust in animation scripts as a barometer of writing ability, preferring formats they are more comfortable with. I suppose I should be greatful they aren't arriving from the cattle insemenation industry.

Adeus Rosina

Rosina ended her struggle today. Keep the good thoughts and prayers flowing to the family. Grief is like a long bitter drink from a glass that seems bottomless. But one day the vessel is emptied and the taste fades. And a new and different life is lived.

Meeting Week Update

Outcomes from this week's meetings.

1. Met with the teen reading group and obtained volunteers to read the first three chapers of my young adult novel. I also scored some great gossip about Brandon and Keira at Jennifer's party.

2. The dentist was impressed with the state of my teeth. I asked him if they were clean enough to eat off of. He laughed and said he'd have to remember that. So if your dentist makes that joke tell him you heard it already — but make sure he's done working on you first.

3. Six people signed up at the information meeting for Team in Training. They will be training for the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon.

4. Director Tyler filmed my memories of Freakazoid! DVD release date is set for this summer. More soon.

5. My accountant agreed with me on all fronts, recommending that I sell the house, get a condo or a townhouse, and try again to earn a living. Right on, man.

Freakataping

Freakazoid! first season DVD taping was yesterday in Burbank. A whopping bin of fun. I'll have more a bit later.

Prayers & Positive Energy for Rosina

Tonight, I returned home from a Team in Training information meeting to learn the wife of a former Warner Brothers chum is nearing the end of her battle with leukemia. She had a bone marrow transplant several months ago that seems to have been the beginning of the end. Her moments are numbered, so please say a prayer and send kind thoughts to her husband as he waits for the curtain to fall.

Meeting Week

Next week I meet with:

1. Teens who will beta test my book's first three chapters.

2. The dentist.

3. People interested in joining Team in Training and running either the San Diego or Anchorage, AK marathons.

4. A nice director who will be filming my interview for the season one DVD release of Freakazoid!

5. My accountant who will probably tell me what I already know: "You're broke. Sell the house. Get a job somewhere."

Animalia, Writing, Running, TNT

A show that helped me pay bills last year airs this Sunday. Animalia started out in 2006 as a funny program for kids 8 to 12 in the spirit of Anamaniacs. Over the years, the vision changed toward a more serious, educational program for a younger demographic. Some of the CGI l've seen looks pretty good. Now the series "belongs to the ages" or PBS, BBC, CBC, etc.

Working on the 3rd draft of Dummy Fever. Six pages a day, come what may. That should take me to Monday, January 14. From there, my darling wife proof reads same, while I arrange with an adult book club, a teen literary group, and volunteers from two high schools to read and comment. Oh, and off to my agent as well. I'm excited. I think this book will go. I really feel the story is picking up momentum.

Ran 5 miles this morning. Heavy rains last night caused a mini-mudslide that dumped muck and roots across one trail. Plus a drowned rat drifted to its resting place in the bike lane surrounding the Rose Bowl. Perhaps someone will give it a Viking funeral, sailing it down a storm drain on flaming cardboard smeared with peanut butter.

First information meeting for the Summer Team in Training season will be next Saturday morning at the Covina Library. However all the coaches will be in Phoenix with the Winter Team for the Rock 'n Roll Marathon. Except me. This will be a splendid time to introduce my own unique theories of running to a captive audience. ("We use a lot of iron when we run. So buy some iron leg weights and an iron knee band. It'll toughen ya up.")

Weary, Weary Me

For the last 48 hours I've been writing a story to submit to a horror anthology. Right now, New Year's Eve, my darling wife is proofing the last draft. Submission deadline closes at midnight. I wrote from noon to 11:00 last night. Eight o'clock to 1:10 today, went to the gym, then wrote from 4:30 to 10:20. MDW assures me I'm getting the rapid proof that will merely nip the worst grammatical offenders.

This story actually started out as something called Behind the Scenes. But over three weeks, it's changed, changed again and finally become Tyto Alba, the tale of a slacker who pays a price for "going with the flow."

All pressure is self-imposed. I must return to my young adult novel and didn't want this almost-finished story lounging around, up to no good.

And so, as I await changes on my final story for 2007, I say to one and all:

And Yet Another . . .

. . . Merry Christmas!

Predicting Sub 4 Hours at Eugene Marathon

Ice all over the hills yesterday as I ran a pleasant seven miles. Puddles from the recent rain were glazed over and frost covered the foliage. Spring Team in Training slogged along, doing a 20 mile run. I wished them well in passing.

Ha! There! It's done! I've officially signed up for the Eugene Marathon I'm building up base mileage and will begin training in late January. Having overtrained my way to injury last year, I figure to avoid that pitfall and, this May, break four hours.

Wrapping up last-minute Christmas chores. Now I need to send out cards. I've been so buried writing that short story that time has drifted past like a real good metaphor. Last night I hung the lights. I think I overdid it.

Blogged Down

Not many new entries as Christmas arrives on merry feet. This Monday I had breakfast with my agent, the lovely and financially-astute JKR. I learned that animation buyers now want writing samples that consist of original, live-action, sit-com scripts. It makes no sense.
Sit-com writers excel at funny dialogue. Their scripts are little more than a series of character names followed by set-ups and punch-lines. That's what the medium calls for. Animation writers must sling their jokes while rendering a blueprint that artists can board. In any case, I must now create a free, half-hour calling card for a medium in which I have bales of produced material.

As James Donald said at the end of Bridge on the River Kwai:

"Madness!"

His Brain's Overloading

Freakazoid! was the most fun I've had writing animation. A DVD of the first season will be released soon. Not that I'll see a cent, but it sure was a blast.

A Break

The first five chapters of Dummy Fever percolates in a second-draft stew. Next week I'll tidy it up and start my beta test process. So far I have a book club agreeing to give me feed back. As the story features a 13-year-old protagonist, I'm trying to line up a pair of high-school, freshman English classes. Given my general level of immmaturity, I find it quite easy writing as a teenager.

In the meantime, I'm blasting through a short story called Behind the Scenes. A rewrite of something I started two years ago, Scenes has Hollywood meet Washington, D.C. in a genetic engineering experiment gone wrong. There's nothing like crafting a light-hearted romp about massive fraud, incompetence and bio-engineered monsters to take my mind off holiday stress.

Coach

Me? It looks that way. I've agreed to be an assistant running coach for the San Gabriel Valley Team in Training. I'll find out more about my job this Friday at a meeting for mentors, captains, coaches, and commodores. (I threw in the "commodores." To my knowledge, TNT does not have a naval arm.) Hopefully, I can transmit my enjoyment of the sport to new runners.

I'll tell 'em about the injuries later.

Pearl Harbor: The Real McCoy

"A day of infamy," said President Franklin Roosevelt about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. (On a documentary, a surviving sailor recalled his feelings less poetically: "Holy smokes! Those are Japs! This is the real McCoy!") Reams have been written about what FDR knew and when he knew it. As the United States had broken the Japanese diplomatic code, there was speculation that the president deliberately withheld knowledge of impending attack from the military so as to use the bombing as an excuse to enter World War II.

But we were already fighting German U-boats in the Atlantic. Not to mention that a Japanese mini-sub was sunk inside Pearl Harbor by one of our ships hours before the aerial assault. Mostly we battled a mindset that said, despite two years of war all around us, we'd be just fine.

December 7th changed all that.

Be the Ball, Danny.

Joined TNT folk for their track workout tonight. Coach Katie suggested 200 meter repeats where I just concentrate on form. Odd feeling, running on a track and not keeping time. But that's the sort of workout I'll do for awhile. This year I turned running into a job and resented it. Maybe when it's fun again, I'll check my watch.

So I got that going for me.