IT Band

You can't download music from the iliotibial band. This hardy group of fibers runs along the outside of your thigh. My right IT band has been sore since September and felt tender during the marathon. This Monday I ran an EZ 3 miles and my IT has ached ever since. Ice, elevation and aspirin are my lot as this newest of injuries joins such illustrious company as broken foot and torn calf muscle. But now is my marathon recovery period, so injuries, if not welcome, are at least tolerated for their thoughtful timing. I've uploaded a picture my cousin Mary Ann took at the Health and Fitness Expo. This shows me running more than I actually do during the marathon.

Chi Marathon Post Script

Some final Chicago thoughts. Amber mentions encountering marathoners who weren't allowed to finish. Re-routed back to Grant Park, many ran through the finish line out onto the course, then back again in order to get a finish line photo. As runners were still crossing the mat from the other direction, this might compare to driving your car up an exit ramp onto the freeway. Getting gyped out of a race is tough. But hazarding other runners for a picture is boorish.

My former TNT coach, Jimmy Freeman, suggested lawyers advised the race director to blame runners for water shortages as any hint of culpability would result in a lawsuit tsumani. Sad but probably true.

Still, it leaves him sounding cheap and mean.

Walked 3 miles on Saturday, while Ernesto ran 14 in preparation for December's Las Vegas Marathon. I met him at various points along our course with water and power bars. Meantime, I encountered many current Team in Training chums. As it happened, I'd brought my Chicago medal and a fine array of catastrophe stories.

Congrats to running partner Melissa for finishing today's Long Beach Marathon. Melissa brought it home in 4:48. There was a time in early spring when we hoped to break 4 hours this fall at our respective races. But, as a wise marathon runner once said, it's a victory just making it to the start line.

Chicago Marathon Snippets

Around Mile 7, a race volunteer waved a red flag. Having just seen one at Disneyland, I recognized the flag as a heat warning. However, since I'd already run seven miles through Sauna City, I felt the warning was moot.

Incidentally, that Disneyland post needs updating. Chicago is now the hottest race I've ever run.

When water cups were available, they were often half-empty. (In this matter, I'm a pessimist.) As the race wore on, Gatorade was served piping hot.

There was a single sponge station somewhere in the 20-mile range.

A bank around Jackson Street showed the temperature at 90 degrees.

As mentioned below, confusion spread after the "race closed" announcement. Cops, firemen and race officials yelled, "walk." Months of training hollered, "run if you can." I believe the term for that is cognitive dissonance.

Rumors spread that the timing mats were turned off.

One race offical yelled that running to the finish line still wouldn't get you a medal.

Chicago hopes to host the 2016 Summer Olympics.

When I left for LA on Tuesday morning, the temperature was 58 degrees.

(Photo credit: MSNBC.)

Sweat Home Chicago

Marathon number three continued my tradition of only running marathons with temperature extremes. At dawn it was an overcast, humid 75 degrees and climbing. My niece dropped me off near the lake-front start line around 7:00 AM. I checked my gear, loosened up with T'ai Chi, then stood in a tightly-packed brick of humanity waiting for the 8:00 gun. As the overcast dissolved into popcorn-shaped clouds, the sun rose above Lake Michigan. It felt like a furnace door opening.

Because of crowd size, it took me 20 minutes to cross the mat.

Interesting Stat:

The Chicago Marathon sold out all 45,000 spots back in April.

But only 35,867 passed the start line Sunday morning. That means 9,133 people figured out it was too stinking hot to run.

Lots of TNT runners from Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, New York City and even Louisiana.

The field was so packed it was tough to interval. Those who intervaled clashed with those who viewed the far right of the course as a passing lane. My goal was a 4 hour and 40 minute marathon. I aimed to interval four minutes running/ and one walking up to the half-marathon mark, then see how I felt.

Leaving Grant Park, the course turned onto LaSalle Street just past Mile 2 and headed north. No water at the first stop — they'd run out. There was a mob around the folding tables, shaking gallon water jugs to get the last drops. The surrounding street was littered with flattened Gatorade and Hinkley water cups from the preceding runners. (Wet, flat plastic cups are like ice. You had to watch your footing.) People were highly pissed — especially those without water belts. (I'd brought mine.) One runner had a bottle of Gatorade. He took a sip, passed it back to me. I took a sip and passed it on to another runner. This no-water business boded ill.

Running for several miles on LaSalle, you'd get an occasional breeze through the tall buildings. I'd take off my visor and savor the cool air. Then out into Lincoln Park where the water stations remained a problem. Runners were surging across the street to the first one they saw. Sometimes there was only Gatorade. Other times, volunteers couldn't keep up with demand and runners served themsevles. Whenever possible, I grabbed two cups, drinking one and dumping the other over my head. (In today's Chicago Tribune, the race director blamed runners for the water shortages, citing those who took two cups.)

Around mile eight, I saw an old white-haired runner drift off course and ask a spectator if he could sit in his lawn chair. (The guy helped him down.) By now, sirens whooped all over the city as ambulances rushed the first heat casualties to the hospital.

The heat was getting to me. For the moment, I slowed but kept the same interval. But as we turned west onto Adams, the shade disappeared. No tall buildings, no leafy tree-lined streets with brick apartments. I passed a medical tent and it was full: runners on cots and others holding ice bags to their heads. Past the half-way point, I started tossing out goals like a passenger on a sinking boat dumping freight. Dropping to a 3:1 run/walk, I slowed pace even more. After frying my brain in Honolulu two years ago, I listened to my body and if it said walk more, I did.

We doubled-back east on Jackson and finally found a little shade. Turning south on Halsted to mile 17, I was mostly walking. I'd pick a point and run to it, or run half a mile, or choose a runner going about my speed and tag along. I took another salt tablet, but skipped goo as it made me retch.

Somewhere around mile 18, the cops bull-horned that the race had been cancelled. No finishing times would be official. Please walk. There was a great deal of confusion. By now, the city had opened up fire hydrants and fire trucks stood at certain intersections hosing down the crowd. (Not to mention ordinary Chicago citizens with garden hoses doing the same.) Finally, in the Mexican neighborhood of Pilsen, around mile 19 it sunk into the vast majority of runners that the 2007 Chicago Marathon was toast — just like them. Some runners dropped out at the nearest medical tent where they'd be bussed back to the start line. Some ran on. A nasty rumor surfaced that we wouldn't get medals. This put me into a black mood.

Come what may, I was determined to finish. Because my legs hurt, I ran 1:1 off and on to around mile 22, then walked to mile 26. Along with many others, I ran the final .02 because there were cameras present. 24,933 runners crossed the finish line.

And they did give out medals.

I finished in 5 hours, 48 minutes and 23 seconds. Check the Comments of my previous post where Jeff Carroll has listed my unofficial splits.

One man died and over 300 were hospitalized for heat injuries.

The people lining the route were great. Many offered water or ice cubes, staying on to cheer in the heat long after the race was called.

As for the "other" race — the front end of the marathon where people actually had a chance to win — Kenyan Patrick Ivuti beat Moroccan Jaouad Gharib by .05 of a second. (2:11:11) The top woman's finisher, Ethiopian Berhane Adere edged Roumanian Adriana Pertea in the homstretch. Pertea thought she had the race knocked, and eased off, waving to the crowd as she neared the finish. Adere poured on the coal to catch and pass Pertea for the win. (2:33:49.)

Given my injuries since April, I couldn't think of a better race to cancel. But if I'd been a TNTer who'd fund-raised and trained for this moment, or a runner eager to pr, I'd be supremely miffed at Sunday's outcome. For over a week, I'd been tracking the temperature. I knew it would be hot and humid. Hence, the race organizers did also. I find it hard to believe they couldn't increase the amount of water stations, change the start time to earlier, or better prepare for the heat onslaught they knew was coming. The Honolulu Marathon faces these conditions every year. No one could pick up a phone?

In any case: mission accomplished. After 30 years, I finally finished the Chicago Marathon.

Thanks to Ryan, Raul, Jeff and K for the emails. I'm walking around fine after sleeping eleven hours last night.

As for now, I'm not looking at any marathons before next fall in Pasadena. But don't tell anyone I'm entering.

They'll kick me out to avoid extreme weather.

(All photos courtesy of the Chicago Tribune.)

Chicago Marathon Bound

I am excited after all. I leave early this morning for Chicago. Thirty years have passed and I'm finally going to complete the Chicago Marathon. Yes, I won't PR. Yes, it will be hot and humid. Yes, I have a minor injury in my right glute. But I'm gonna have a great old time on a nice, flat course with lots of cheering people.

My cousin Mary Ann is putting me up for two nights. Then it's off to a motel for race prep and recovery, then one more day visiting sundry friends and relatives.

I'll try and post after the race.

See ya!

Something to Ponder

So here I am over at the Disney Channel, looking for work. They have monitors in the wating area running Disney programs. Suddenly, a shocking, familiar sight: Pinky and the Brain! It seems Disney's Jetix channel leased a block of the old Warner Bros. animation library. Returning to TV this Sunday will be Batman, Superman, and, on Monday, Pinky and the Brain.

An episode I wrote, "Brainania," airs Friday evening, Oct. 5. (Check your local listings, as they say. ) P&B attempt to take over the world using the power of static cling, generated by a colossal clothes dryer. "Brainania" was part of the WB's short-lived, P&B prime-time show, produced by Peter Hastings and Rusty Mills. Our indefatigable mice were slotted head-to-head with 60 Minutes, a Sunday-night ratings monster in 1995.

And that was that.

But 12 years later, 60 Minutes ails, the WB has perished and Pinky and the Brain live on.

Or, as the Brain might say, "HA!" (He always played a long game.)


P&B airs on Disney's Jetix, beginning Oct. 1. Check out episodes and show times here.

Fat Bat in the Great Northwest

Gliding through the night, we see a plump bat. My sister sent me this photo, so it could be Washington state. Wherever it is, they sure have chubby bats.

Rain

Lots of it last night. With the Rose Bowl closed to the running public for a football game, Ernesto and I met at a park near JPL. The trails were strewn with run-off rocks and deep puddles; soil loose and damp; temperature lingering around 58. Despite more rain and wet shoes, it was great running weather.

My hip is still sore from Thursday. (I did my long run then — 13.3 miles.) Absolutely wasted; no drive; I've already peaked for Chicago. Injuries and illness have taken their toll. My goal now is to finish, hopefully under five hours. March was too early to begin training for an October event. Unlike last January when Phoenix couldn't come soon enough, I simply want this marathon to be over.

Working on the first five chapters of Dummy Fever. Frequent outlining develops the habit of telling instead of showing the action. I'm having to redevelop certain writing muscles.

Selling fever continues in a lower key. For bigger items such as DVDs, I'm checking out asking prices on eBay and craig's list. It'll give me an idea on how to price things.

Lots of change everywhere, especially under the sofa cushions.

DVDs Away!

Away, away, Casino, away Apocalypse Now, away to the web resale house! This selling of things is contagious. I've barely scratched the surface on markets for my books, CDs, and VHS tapes. Plus there's costly electronic equipment to unload. Away, away with it all!

Cold Call

On a beautiful day for running, I set out to log 21.6 miles. Alas, I dropped out at 15. I've been fighting a cold all week and halfway up to the Elmer Smith Bridge felt woozy, ready to pass out. (Of course, having my nostrils clogged didn't help.) This would've been my last big mileage before the marathon. Maybe if I rest up and get over this bug, I'll squeeze in one more long run.

Talked to my agent re. Dummy Fever. She likes the outline and wants me to write up a few chapters. That shouldn't be too hard since the story's been marinating in my fine Irish head since May.

Selling Old Dreams

Yes, I've sold a book! In fact, I've sold four books: two on film lighting, one on fillmmaking, and one on defensive football. I also set up a consignment sale for a pair of Alesis MI Active Biamplified reference monitors — a fancy term for speakers used in sound editing. They're a leftover from the days when I had tons of money and thought I'd make my own digital films for a living. Ah, but the real gold lies in cyberspace — at least until I run out of possessions to sell.

Game Day

Runner parking scuttled at the Rose Bowl this AM in order to make room for tailgaters. And they were there, too, in their RVs at 7:00 AM for a 3:30 PM game. (UCLA vs. BYU.)

Ernesto hurt his calf muscle Thursday and rested. So I ran 16.2 miles. Wearing my Disneyland Half Marathon tee-shirt proved a real conversation starter. It seemed half the runners I met, including non-TNT chums, had been at the race Monday and had a story to tell about the stinking heat. I mentioned seeing runners sitting down on every available curb space because it was too hot to warm up. They looked like forlorn passengers waiting for a train in Bangkok.

Took an ice bath after today's run —fifteen minutes in a cold tub with several pounds of ice cubes rattling around. Climbing out, my legs felt like frozen drumsticks. But, ah, the blood does return, speeding up the healing.

Finally got my lap top back this week. The techs weren't 100% sure what was wrong. I told them to swap out the hard drive and transfer all the data. That worked just dandy and I can now survey my dwindling fiances with the flick of a button.

Happiest Race on Earth

At least that's what it said on my finisher's medal. And what a medal! But I'm getting ahead. The Disneyland Half Marathon was the second hottest race I've ever run. (2005 Honolulu Marathon was first, but not by much.) It was muggy at 4:30 AM and only got stickier as dawn approached.

A quick digression: I believe the afterlife may well be modeled after Disneyland. They certainly know how to move large numbers of people quickly and efficiently.

Back at the race, many runners entered the spirt of the event and wore mouse ears or Minnie Mouse outfits. A lone Japanese guy wore a hat with faux flowers growing out of the crown. During the race, many runners took the opportunity to stop and have photos taken with Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter, and some giant thing from Monsters. (The one that was voiced by John Goodman.)

In any case, the temperature was high enough that the park issued a red flag warning. Interesting choice on Labor Day. Apparantly, communists would shoot runners who finished ahead of anyone in a lower economic class.

Red would be followed by the most extreme temperature warning — a black flag. Not only would it be blazing hot, but anarchists would hurl bombs into the crowd as well as assassinate selected elite runners. Once the race was destabilized, they could introduce autonomous trade unions and a runners' collective, using strikes to compel the race director to step down and allow the development of spontaneous running events without formal organization.

But that would also mean no big, fat finisher medals shaped like the Magic Kingdom.

Happy Labor Day!

Disney Half Marathon, and Risky Ventures

A day off today: from a long morning run, that is. And like most off days, filled with activity. I drove down to Anaheim early this morning and picked up my race number for Monday's Disneyland half-marathon. Then I dropped off my powerbook again to have a new hard drive installed. Gassed the car and now am preparing to write all day on Dummy Fever while awaiting word on where to meet wife and in-laws for dinner.

Ernesto is in New York for a friend's wedding. Next Saturday he'll run 12 and I'll do a mere 16.

Already a hundred degrees and it's not even noon. I'm fortunate not to be running today.

Another fortunate man was Risky Ventures. You can read about his luck at Products of a Diseased Mind. Then scroll down to absorb the cautionary tale of "Roscoe: The Sensible Sniper."

19.3 Mile Run, Going Broke, and King Kong

19.3 was Saturday's long run. (An odd number of miles, but satisfying nonetheless.) It included three laps around the Rose Bowl (9.3 miles) and a run up to the Elmer Smith Bridge (10 miles round-trip). Ernesto ran the Elmer circuit, then met me at various scenic spots with an ice cooler. As the temperature was in the balmy 70s, I finished on pace and feeling good.

Speaking of running, I'm running out of money. While my darling wife has gotten more work, the medium-sized dollars that sustain us are drying up. Two more checks coming in, but nothing lined up after that. A tense time, but opportunities have a way of appearing. I need to avoid getting so negative and filled with self pity that I fail to see them.

Tomorrow I learn the fate of my hard drive.

Finished the second draft outline for Dummy Fever. I'll polish it up this week and send it in to my agent.

I tried watching Peter Jackson's King Kong Friday night. Beautiful CG backgrounds, nice score but the story was so overwritten, filled with bloated, easily-cut moments, that I lost all interest and turned on Modern Marvels. Of the two major remakes— Jackson's and the 1976 laugher — there was a tendency to remove "the beast" from this Beauty and the Beast tale. The original Kong had sympathetic moments, but also killed people in horrible, unprovoked ways. You never forgot he was a big animal. Plus the 1933 film moved like lighting. Once Fay Wray was kidnapped, the story hit the gas and never slowed 'til "twas beauty killed the beast."

Thus endth my thoughts on giant monkey movies.

Computer Woes and Track Practice

Tapping away, transcribing Dummy Fever into a back-up computer, rewriting as I go. My powerbook lanquishes in tech hosptial with no word due until Monday. Mostly, I'm concerned with losing financial data. As it is, I'm reconciling bank statements the old-fashioned way — by hand and math. It's like having to suddenly use a typewriter or an analog phone. (The kind with a dial like you see in movies.)

Ran 800 meter repeats last night at the La Crescenta high school track. Football practice occupied the field for most of my workout and I had to slow at times to avoid getting thumped with a field goal try. (Ah, it all brought back fond memories of hot August days with a hoarse coach hollering at me to stay low on tackles.)

Each track seems to have its own evening rhythm. In La Cresecenta, it's the Grand Promenade. As the sun dipped behind the Verdugo Hills and the football team headed off to shower, couples and kids and families and groups arrived to walk around the track.

Strollers clearly outnumbered runners. I had to dodge and weave quite a bit. For some reason, I was reminded of the scene from Midnight Express where Brad Davis winds up in a Turkish madhouse. Inmates are made to walk in a circle all day. At one point, he turns and walks against the grain, upsetting his fellow mad, who grab and clutch at him. For a fleeting moment, I thought that might happen to me.

Still, the run was good training for a crowded race like Chicago.



Or a Turkish madhouse.

Sixteen & Change

A ragged run in the hot sun. My alliteration hasn't suffered, just my pacing. Very uneven. Afterwards, my car battery died, but Ernesto gave me a jump.

Computer remains in a state of crash. All my email addresses are stuck inside. I backed up most of my writing, but several newer projects weren't archived.

Unexpected expenses over the last two months: garage door, car, plumbing, computer, car. Oh, and I just discovered a leak in the shower.

AM Run, Writing Notes, Computer Mort

Early morning is a far better time to run in a 95 degree heat-wave. Worked in some tempo miles at 6:30 AM and had the best run in several months. Crossed paths with Katie McCollum, yet another former TNT coach. Apparently all the fashionable people finish their runs before 8 AM. :-)

Good feedback at writer's group today. Bernadette, my instructor, had a few solid ideas for my protagonist. In general, I'm working better with characters. Actually got some good ideas from reading a Harry Potter book. Rowling does a deft job describing teenagers embarrassing themselves — an activity I needed for "Dummy Fever."

Dutton passed on my other young adult novel, "The Whompago." (I've changed the title to the slightly less cryptic, "The Shifting.") I should withdraw the outline from consideration with Simon and Shuster and deepen the characters. What the heck?

I'm writing this at the Apple computer repair store, surrounded by really cool expensive stuff. But yesterday my hard drive crashed like a holiday drunk and I really need to retrieve a bunch of stuff. Hopefully, that will happen as I finish this post.

Dummy Down!

Just completed draft one of a book outline for Dummy Fever, a young adult novel about a loner kid who learns to appreciate others. This makes the third novel I've outlined since last June. (Horror novel, Apple Dan, and young adult novel, The Shifting). Plus I'm beginning the outline on a sci-fi detective story called The Toy Man.

I'm getting really good at outlining. Could be, maybe, time to write one.

Fourteen Hot Miles

Yesterday was my longest run since the Phoenix Marathon. Ernesto and I met at 7:30 AM with the sun faint behind a marine layer. That didn't last long as the temperature rose like coals on a Webber Grill. As Ernesto only ran six, he met me at various points along my route with a cooler. I was able to replenish my water and dump ice onto the back of my head.

Felt sluggish and slow; really had to push myself to keep going. Time goals were way off. But I'm running Chicago anyway.

A defiant 'ha!'

Long Runs and a Salute to Kate Martini

14, 16, 18. Those are my long runs for the next three weeks. I see soreness in my future.

Congratulations to Kate Martini, one of my TNT coaches from last season. She completed the Vineman full triathalon last Saturday. That's a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride and a 26.2-mile marathon that Kate nailed in 13 hours, 49 minutes and 39 seconds. A rich full Saturday by anyone's account.

An impressive accomplishment when you consider Kate works full-time, has a part-time job, and continues run coaching for the San Gabriel Valley Team in Training. Kate committed to this triathalon last January, hired a trainer, and locked in on her goal. I think she also bought a time-stretcher over the Internet, but I don't have any more details.

And now . . . Kate Martini is an Ironman.

Ed, Edd, Eddy and Hezekiah

WARNING! SPOILERS! In animation news, those goofball brothers are rumored to have their own feature in the works. Insiders say the Eds will team up with a Judean king to outwit the Assyrian Empire. The story is said to include a scene where the brothers trade bossy Sarah to Assyrian potentate Sennacherib for some jawbreakers. But Sarah never warms to life in the capital of Assur and throws one tantrum too many. A weary Sennacherib orders her sealed in a lead drum and rolled into the Tigris. Meanwhile, the brothers bumble their way through plagues, massacres, and the rout of a mighty host. We'll have to see how this plays out with audiences.

SpongeBob Spared by Frustrated Jihadis!

A recent AP story reported SpongeBob SquarePants was captured by radical Islamists. They attempted to behead him, but couldn't find his neck. A quick search of the Quran revealed zip about the ritual slaying of a talking sponge. After much bitter grumbling, SpongeBob was released.

However Patrick has been reported missing.

Toasty Saturday Run

Very stiff from Friday's drive to San Diego. I should've stretched out last night but was too beat. Ran 12 miles today and felt sluggish and slow. The heat didn't help. I brought water, Gatorade, and salt tablets and used them all. Coach Jimmy ran with me the last two miles, pointing out that my rapid breathing was the result of CO2 clogging up the lungs and that I needed to strike a rhythm and exhale. I thought my rapid breathing was from running with a really fast, 30-year-old guy with no body fat. Nevertheless, I tried and found my heart rate slowing down as I huffed out bad air.

Ernesto did 8 miles today. A saintly man, he finished first then went out and bought ice cold Gatorade and water. I slugged down the whole bottle of Gatorade. We went out for breakfast and I gulped down water. Came home and had more water, another salt tablet and a very cold shower.

I don't think we'll barbecue tonight.

Comicon

I've been. I've seen the spatially-challenged walking around dressed as Klingons. Bless them, it beats drug addiction. Yesterday, I was a few blocks away at a party my agency throws. Ran into Paul Rugg, who was doing a presentation at Comicon with the Hensen Company. Also saw Rich Fogel, a former Batman writer. Rich mentioned ex-Bat producer/story editor Paul Dini had a panal and said nice things about Rugg, myself and Freakazoid. Hard to believe ten years ago we were down at Comicon doing a panal for the guy with lightning in his hair.

Zup! Another decade gone.

Run to the Elmer Smith Bridge

Like the fabled Alaskan "Bridge to Nowhere," the Elmer Smith Bridge spans a rocky draw in the Angeles National Forest. The bridge is closed, fenced off; stopping one from crossing over into what-appears-to-be dense brush. But Elmer sits exactly 5 miles from my start line at the Rose Bowl: turn-around point for a ten-mile run. There is a metal sign that is no longer readable. But in TNT we would ritually slap this sign as we headed back down the hills. Three months have passed since my last Elmer and I was delighted to once again slap the sign.

Finished much better this week. Drank lots of water yesterday, started earlier and slower, then closed strong on the last two miles. Iced my calves all week and will do the same this week. That helped relieve soreness. My endurance slowly rebuilds.

Ernesto was supposed to meet me but bagged due to a crushing hangover. He was caught last night in a Happy Hour Trap where you stop for one after work and wake up the next morning on the hood of a car in another state.

But we'll try again next week.

Thoughts on Writing and Success

After a wonderful five months of paying work, I'm wrapping up the last script. Now comes the furious grind of unemployment. Lots of material to prepare and pitch. But that's only if I want more work. A few years back, I'd stashed so much dough from previous gigs that unemployment took on a holiday-like quality. Now I've burned through that cash and must hustle.

I never prepared for success. Things sort of fell in my lap. I prepared to be a writer, but not how to handle money and opportunity. Living with failure was much more straightforward: just keep swinging. But success required planning and goals, things I'd never developed outside of escaping the immediate trouble that non-planning put me in.

Now my goal is transitioning from writing TV animation to books. That's a lot of effort while continuing to pay bills. But goals have stages, something I've learned from marathons. And I'm moving slowly toward mine.

Of course, I wouldn't mind a big pile of success falling in my lap again. But I got a feeling it won't happen again. I already know how to catch. Now I must learn how to reach.

Social Rose Bowl Running

Yesterday at the Rose Bowl, Ernesto and I walked for a few minutes prior to our run. We ran into former TNT mentor Felipe. He'd bought a new Prius and we checked it out. Then current TNT captain Rouman ran past. He stopped to say 'hi.' We were about to return to our warm-up when Coach Katie ran over followed by TNT alums SJ and Raul who had just finished running in the hills.

Having warmed-up physically and socially, we finally set out. Ernesto ran six and I ran eight miles. Blazing hot. A stretch of trail above the Rose Bowl near JPL labs is particularly wicked: shade-free, sun-cooked chapparrel. My finishing time was a few minutes off. Calves were sore, indicating that my endurance needs work. I'll set a slower pace next week.

In-laws were down from the Bay area, staying with us over the week-end. Great house guests. They arose early each day, went about their engagements, returned late and quietly went to bed in the guest room. We finally all met up for breakfast this morning. Now they're driving home while my wife and I are bound for various work-related projects on this sunny July Sunday.

Book Outline and Pre-Chicago Marathon

Back to book outling. Every spare piece of wall in my office is covered with 3x5 cards for novel-to-be "Dummy Fever." I also looked over an outline I finished last year. The story still stands up. I think I'll retitle the tale and send it out to a a few publishers.

Countdown to Chicago has begun. Thirteen weeks to get ready. Ran on a local high school track this morning - 400 meter repeats. First time there. Apparantly 7:00 AM is the cut-off point for unimpeded running. After that, the lanes filled up with mostly people walking. At least there were no strollers, cyclists, roller bladers or dogs on 70-foot leashes.

Or perhaps I left too early?

Garage Door Down

Hit my garage door opener on Saturday on the way out for my run. Wham! The spring broke and the double-wide metal door crashed down like a huge mouse trap — luckily harming nothing, not even itself. I got two new door springs later in the day and now everything works great.

I just didn't have it in me to blog about running or writing.

July 4 5K

Broiling heat up in Santa Clarita, as I waited to implement Step 2 . A light warm-up before the race left me dripping sweat. Felt a bit nervous as I'd only run once without walk breaks and didn't want to reinjury myself.

Gun sounded and off we went. The 5K followed a very festive, patriotic course along streets decked out with American flags for a parade later that morning. I latched on to several runners who looked more out-of-shape than I and let them pace me. They ran the first mile in 7:58. I slowed down and then hung on to finish in 25.04. This is a contemporary PR, a hair better than the 5K I ran in March .

Today's result was most gratifying since I've only been running again less than a month with zero speed work. Losing weight helped. (Since I committed two months ago, I'm down to 207) And a fairly flat course didn't hurt either.

A bit o' barbecue today with my darling wife, in-between working on a script.

A jolly 4th of July to all!

A Grand Fine Meeting

Had a wonderful pitch yesterday. I told my story of a young teen saddled with tiny but pushy alien cops and a ventriloquist dummy as he's drawn into the pursuit of an intergalactic super villain hiding out in his school. The execs. enjoyed it and laughed, but probably won't buy a script for sundry production reasons.

From a morale standpoint, the pitch was a huge lift. So much of work lately consists of writing scripts and outlines then enduring pages of exacting criticism. Or pitching material that's picked apart in the room. ( Yesterday's second pitch excepted.) It was a relief to simply tell a story that the listerners liked.

I guess it felt like the good old days of improv comedy: immediate feedback, no waiting.

We may shop my story, "Dummy Fever," to one more studio, then it's off to book outline land.

But I sure had a good time.

Pitched Out

Met with production company execs and others at a fancy restaurant to plot strategy. With back-to-back meetings at different studios, it was decided I would mostly do the talking. As it turned out, everyone chimed in, with our star/creator helping the most.

The first meeting was like pitching a funny idea to Stonehenge. The guy clearly wasn't in the mood. We left the room with advanced cases of frostbite.

The second meeting at another studio was a festive treat, with laughter and encouragement from delighted execs. We still have one more pitch on this project but it won't be for another month.

It was like spending several hours on stage. Afterwards, I felt drained. I sat in my car and slugged down a 16 oz. water.

I have one more pitch tomorrow on a live-action film idea ; a half-hour animated script to write today; plus two more animated TV projects to ready for the coming weeks so I can sell again.

I can't look at the results. The action of pitching often begats work from the most unexpected quarters.

So onward I go.