Yuletide Notes

A busy time as I work on an animated script and interview for a story-editing job starting early next year. For now, I'm grateful to be home and in good health. Tomorrow I meet with Team in Training and continue my post-marathon recovery. At this point we're mostly walking. I miss the Team and look forward to another season running with some of the same folk. In any event, Happy Holidays. May Santa bring you something other than fruit cakes and underwear. That is, unless you've asked for fruit cakes and underwear.


Then I hope you get a lot.

Pitch Idea: Four-Alarm Fred

Strange doings in Young Adult fiction. Fantasy finds a niche in works such as D.J. MacHale's Pendragon series and Holly Black novels like "Tithe." Teen protagonists confront alternate worlds or fairies while dealing with incredibly high car insurance rates. I'm thinking of giving the genre a whirl. My book idea features a teenage boy named Fred. One day Fred discovers he's turning into a fire engine. At first, he's unable to stop at red lights. Then a ladder grows out his back. Soon he can spit water a hundred yards. Fred's invited to several pool parties. He wonders if kids like him for himself. He's got a girl but she dumps Fred right before junior prom. Maybe there's a chapter where Fred teaches kids "Stop, Drop and Roll," but they laugh because he's a talking truck. Maybe I can get a foam retardant company to underwrite the project. More on this.
(Fantasy art courtesy of Feebleminds Free Animated Gifs)

Harvey and the Holidays

Christmas comes on jingly feet and I look forward to spending the day with my wife, her mom, and a friend of mine. We'll munch turkey, put an angel atop the tree, and then watch "Harvey." The film has nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with a six-foot rabbit, dear friend to protagonist Elwood P. Dowd. Back in the 80s, my sister had an old tape of "Harvey." We popped it in the VCR one holiday season. The next year we watched it again. Eventually we bought a new tape, then a DVD. Over time the film became a tradition and an interactive piece, much like "The Rocky Horror Show."
(McCann Family Yelling at the TV Screen: "Who's your friend?"
Elwood P. Dowd On Screen: "And now, I'd like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine . . . " )
We got to know all the supporting characters, like the bartender Mr. Cracker, and would share "sightings" when any of us spotted them in another old film. "Harvey" has assumed family cult status and we look forward to seeing it once more. (Though last year for some reason we watched "Blackhawk Down." But it just goes to show we're not set in stone.)

Post-Marathon Blues

Worked all weekend on two TV series pitches for this morning. The exec. liked one. Now he must kick it upstairs.

Resting my joints and tendons from the marathon means I pretty much can't run for a month. And running endorphins were getting me through a lot of down spots. I guess I'll just eat instead.

I'm signing up for a 5K (3.1 mile) run in January, held as part of the Orange County Marathon down in Newport Beach. Jimmy, my coach, is running the marathon for time, hoping to race 26.2 miles in under 3 hours.

I'll be happy when I break six.

Honolulu Photo Mile 22

My sister and a friend waited for me, cheering on Team in Training and watching men in wooden clogs run past. I showed up doing the sun stroke shuffle. As you can see, it helped to spot a familiar face. Many thanks to my darling wife, sister and her chum who ventured out into the heat and humidity to root me on.

They also serve who stand and bake.

Brief Marathon Notes

In my last post, Beyond Mile 20, I mentioned over 28,000 starters. That's how many signed up for the race. Officially, 24,000 and something crossed the start mat. A few thousand less aren't noticeable especially when you're stuck behind a runner wearing a colossal Afro wig. But facts are facts.

To open the race, organizers shot off a howitzer. There were rumors of a foul up. Instead of a blank cartridge, a live 75 millimeter shell was fired into Waikiki, destroying a beach umbrella.
No one was hurt, but authorities continue asking sharp questions.

Runners used cell phones to photograph the opening fireworks. Considering my terse, sun-baked attitude around mile 23, I'm glad I had no cell phone. No phone, no apologies to friends, family and race officials.
Post-marathon depression exists.

But like the race, it passes.

First Marathon

Over 28,000 runners hit the bricks in Honolulu last Sunday. An amazing spectacle to see so many people in shorts, a large number who shouldn't have been. It seemed Japan emptied out for the run. Some Japanese find it refreshing to race in large shark heads or wooden clogs. Two hardy sons of the East ran in Sumo wrestler-type wrappings and nothing else but shoes. A pretty sight? Not really, no.

Despite a 5:00 AM start, the humidity felt cloying. Water wasn't available every mile. (Nor was every mile clearly marked. Some had kilometer signs.) I gulped water cups every chance I could and carried another in one hand.

Jimmy, my coach, said that little marathon mistakes become big ones. I made a fair share of freshmen miscues. My pace was uneven and too fast for conditions. I ran alone for long periods instead of hanging with teammates. And somehow I found myself dehydrating around mile 13. I spent the next seven miles attempting to correct a growing "oops" list, but it was too late. In the middle of mile 20 I staggered to the side of the road, skin clammy, face white — according to a teammate — in search of a flat spot to lie down and sleep. For the next three miles I shuffled from water station to water station, fried like an onion ring. I ran a bit at mile 24, walking again at mile 25, slogging up a steep blazing road alongside Diamond Head. From there, it was downhill to the end at Kapiolani Park. I sucked it up for the finish line cameras and ran the final 1.2 miles, completing my first marathon in 6 hours and 1 minute.

Afterwards, the pain was unique and inventive. Either my arch cramped or my calf, or my hips throbbed as if smacked with aluminum poles. Usually all three pains kicked in at once. Though exhausted, I couldn't nap because every position hurt. Still, I headed for the Victory Party in our hotel. It was gratifying to see other runners wearing bright orange "Finisher" tee-shirts shuffling to the elevator like deeply medicated old people. Misery indeed loves company.

But the discomfort is passing and I had a wonderful experience. 642 members of Team in Training were present from across the U.S. and Canada. We raised two million dollars to fight leukemia and lymphoma. A good cause, great teammates, a Hawaiian vacation and a marathon run alongside Japanese dressed as pancakes and other strange things. Sweet!

I'm staying with Team in Training for another go. My next marathon will be San Diego Rock 'n Roll in June 2006. (Maybe sooner if I'm up for the L.A. Marathon .) I'll start training again in January. Until then, I'll hobble through Christmas and the New Year, watching a lot of football.

But I can't wait to go again.