Boston Marathon Update

Our San Gabriel Valley coaches ran the 110th Boston Marathon today.

Jimmy: 3:17:34 (7:32 pace)

Kate: 3:30:54 (8:03 pace)

Katie: 3:26:50 (7:54 pace)
The United States made its best showing in years. And while 1st and 2nd place fell to Kenyans, U.S. Men grabbed 3,4 & 5, claiming five of the top ten finishes.

A new course record of 2:07:14 was set today.

In the Women's Division, no daughters of Uncle Sam finished in the top ten. A Kenyan won here as well. Eastern European and Japanese women perch atop female marathoning, but Kenyan women dominate Boston, sweeping three in a row and six of the last seven. Today's race was a nailbiter with the Kenyan surging for the win, holding off a late charge from a Latvian who finished 10 seconds behind.

I'm not sure who won the wheelchair division.

Or the couch-bed division.

But someone did.

Injured Runner Blues

My arms felt so tired this morning I wanted to stay in bed. This cast/crutches stuff is real, whether I like it or not. And today, I don't like it. I'm sore, sluggish, every movement a chore. My ankle bone hurts from rubbing against the inside of the cast.

This morning TNT was out doing 16 miles. Our coaches, the Kates, and my winter team coach, Jimmy, are all in Boston, running the big marathon on Monday.

Last night, our fundraising captain, Dave, emailed me that I'd won a TNT sweatshirt for suggesting blogs as a supplement to our individual TNT websites. Blogs are indeed a dandy way to update folks on your training progress — or, in my case, temporary lack thereof. In any event, winning said sweatshirt was a spot of color in an otherwise drab day.

I have a script due early next week. It's for a joint BBC /Australian TV production that will probably air on PBS. The client ordered episodes before the creative team figured out all the characters and situations. It's a bit like launching an unfinished boat and attempting to build the hull at sea.

You might make it.

Broken Bone Notes

A friend who suffered broken legs playing tennis and baseball said my "crutch form" needed work. I shouldn't be resting heavily on the top part. I should lean — as in running — and use gravity to propel me forward.

If you are not wide awake when you go to the bathroom at night, you will be by the time you return to bed.

The doctor who set my cast was peevish and bitter. He pretty much said he'd seen one broken foot bone too many. I wanted to tell him to quit that day and go chase his dream: design fighter aircraft or cathedrals; paint bridges; be a mime, whatever.

But I'm glad I didn't speak.

He was enjoying his misery too much.

Broke At Santa Anita

After three days, my underarms are tender. I've put pillows over the top of the crutches for cushioning. I wear a satchel around my neck so I can cart books, etc. from one room to the next. Stairs are a pain, but I'm learning.

My 5th metatarsal, the long bone on the outside of the foot, sustained a fracture on Saturday. A cast for at least three weeks, then, perhaps, a walking cast. No running for two months. So long San Diego Marathon.

This sucks large. But there's nothing to be done but get better and try again.

To those readers who planned to donate, please do so. I understand I can slide your donations forward to another TNT event. (I'm thinking Long Beach in the fall or Arizona in January 2007.) The money still goes to fight blood cancers, but it will be credited to an event I'll actually be running in. (God willing.)

In any case, having a broken foot has improved my writing. I'm no longer in a position to wander away from the computer when I should be cranking out an assignment.

I'll keep posting on the fortunes of the San Gabriel Summer 2006 TNTers.

And I'll head down to San Diego in June to cheer them on.

I should be walking just fine by then.

Injured In A New Exciting Way

Approaching Mile One at yesterday's Santa Anita 5K. I'm running as planned, eight-minute pace. The course turns off Baldwin Avenue into the LA Arboretum. As I follow the other runners, my right foot hits a hole and twists inward. Ouch!

I go from running to run-limp-to limping. I limp through the Arboretum into the hay district of Santa Anita race track. Bales and bales of hay lay stacked up in large open "barns." I follow the course as it flows through a tunnel that emerges up in the infield. From there I turn onto the race track: loose sand chewed up by previous runners. I run-limp across the finish line.

Doctor's tomorrow for x-rays.

After fighting back from a knee/tendon injury in February at Pacific Shoreline I figured I'd used up my damage quota for this marathon. But there are no guarantees in running or life.

I guess I'm lucky not to be a horse.

Team in Training would have to shoot me.

Running Shoe Annoyances

As we enter intense training, I realize I need another pair of runnning shoes. Two pair, actually. One to break-in for the marathon and one to rotate with my current shoes. I'm partial to Brooks. They're a comfortable fit. Naturally, Brooks has stopped making my brand.

This really frosts me. I'm not interested in shoe shopping all over again.

Now I must.

What swine these shoe people are!

A Wet Fourteen Miles

TNT mileage increases. Yesterday we covered 14 muddy miles in and around the Rose Bowl. As I drove to practice, I saw other groups coping with the morning's downpour. The Korean-American Running Club — most noted for their lime, day-glo jerseys that can be seen from outer space — today wore fifty-five gallon trash bags. A most disposable rain coat. They looked like giant, jogging plums.

Trails were a mess, churned up by other runners and hikers. One of our mile markers is a support post under the 210 Freeway. Someone graffittied, "TNT. Go Team! 2006." A childish frame-up. Obviously, no real TNTer spray-painted that. If so, there would've been a URL or address where you could send money.

The deluge stopped, leaving a cool pleasant day — perfect distance-running weather. The various pace groups ran, walked, slipped and splashed our way up past JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratories: they send things into space to photograph Mars and the Korean-American Running Club), into the Angeles National Forest, up to the Elmer Fudd Bridge (it's Elmer Smith but "Fudd" resonates), then back down the trail to the Finish Line in Parking Lot K of the Rose Bowl.

Next week is another 3.1 mile race ala Emerald Nuts. Saturday we'll be at the Santa Anita Derby Days 5K. In keeping with the race track theme, several of our faster runners will wear weights and at least two must carry small men on their backs.

More as details unfold.

Swami Dearest at Venice Beach

When relatives visit from out-of-state I always take them to Venice Beach. The sights and sounds fulfill all Southern California stereotypes: The guitar-playing swami on rollerskates; gang members with more tattoos than an old sailors' home; fortune tellers, sleeping bums, artists and street performers, motorcycle hoods; hot-looking chicks on roller blades, conspiracy theorists ("Bush Killed My Turtles!"), pumped-up weight lifters, blaring rap music, Tibetan gongs and sea gulls wheeling overhead..

At least that's the way it used to be.

I hadn't been to Venice in many years. That gives you some idea how often we're visited by out-of-state relatives. Nevertheless, my niece came out and we took her down to the beach. Everything seemed pretty much the same, but a lot more orderly. Even the sleeping bums appeared to have been arranged by a landscaper. But I really wanted to see the guitar-playing swami. I'd promised my niece. My wife grew up in nearby Santa Monica and said the swami mostly works there nowadays, rollerblading along the fashionable 3rd Street Promenade.

Perhaps I should've checked with his agent first.

He has one.

Inkling Charles S. Williams

Somewhere I read that March 25 corresponds to the Shire calendar day when Gollum and the Ring of Power toppled into Mount Doom, thereby unmaking Sauron and freeing Middle Earth. Sauron's kingdom was later auctioned off, becoming the Mordor Pitch and Putt. (For a proper Trilogy send-up, I suggest the Harvard Lampoon's 1969 "Bored of the Rings.")

In any case, I've had Tolkien and his peers on my mind for the last two weeks, ever since a member of my writing group lent me a book on "The Inklings." The Inklings were a mid-20th Century literary group in Oxford. Very distinguished. Among others, the Inklings featured J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and Charles S. Williams. Novelist Dorothy L. Sayers, though not a member, hung with the Inklings and is said to have dogged Charles S. Williams until he explained Dante and Beatrice to her. Zany cut-ups, these English writers.

Tolkien, of course, wrote "The Hobbit" and the "The Lord of the Rings." C.S. Lewis wrote "The Chronicles of Narnia." And Charles S. Williams wrote some strange spooky fiction. (He also wrote numerous plays, poems, and critiques, but they weren't all that strange and spooky.) Williams took genres such as detective fiction and wove in heavy metaphysical elements. For example, "War in Heaven" opens like a murder mystery but we learn the Holy Grail has been discovered in a small English church. A race is on as various parties seek the Grail for its supernatural powers. (A bit like "Raiders of the Lost Ark" only 51 years earlier.)

Williams' books are dense as a neutron star. But there is something eerie and compelling in his work, as if he were able to part the veil and render events beyond our temporal senses. The closest comparison I can make is to the film, "The Others." Charles S. Williams leaves you convinced there's more to life — and death — than you'd normally care to dwell on.

His novels never really sold. But they're still in print. Williams, who worked as an editor for Oxford Press and taught classes in literature, died in 1945 at age 57. If I get through more of his books, I'll let you know.

Notes on Nuts 5K

A teammate running the LA Marathon, Jerry, posted a time a shade over 5 hours. Jerry said he'd probably have finished in the 4-hour range but for three bathroom breaks. The 5K port-o-potty lines were long. The marathon facilities must have been epic. (And ghastly, as only a marathon port-o-potty can be.)

A few teammates hung around to cheer Jerry and TNT marathoner Phil. They waited at the 20 mile mark. Seeing a marathoner at 20 miles is like seeing your parents naked — not pretty. You can run the last mile and look cool for the finish line camera. But at mile 20, the bloom is definitely off the rose. Runners struggling, walking, pulling themselves along on injured legs. Someone remarked that only finishing makes all the pain worthwhile. Having hobbled the last seven miles in Huntington Beach, I agree.

2776 runners finished the Emerald Nuts 5K. Coach Kate ran second in her age division (18-24) running the 3.1 miles in 21 minutes. That's a pace of 6 minutes and 46 seconds per mile. I can't think that fast.

Teammate Gionne snapped a few photos. From right to left, Jay, Ernesto, Melinda, myself and Chad perfect our "hanging-out-aimlessly-before-the-race" look.

5K Nuts to Me

My Team in Training chapter ran the Emerald Nuts 5K this morning. With all the training I've missed, I did better than expected: 27:22 - an 8:49 per minute pace for the 3.1 miles. One of our coaches, Kate, placed second in her age group.

Most of the team took the Gold Line from Pasadena to Union Station in downtown LA, then transferred to the Red Line for a three-stop jaunt to Flower St. From there we walked over to the Staples Center and the start line. Very easy, stress free arrival - unlike the nerve-jangling chaos of Pacific Shoreline parking back in February. This was only the second time I've been on the Metro Rail. I'm guessing there must be some invisible ray that scans all passengers, identifying those without tickets and giving them kidney stones. Because no human being ever asked to see my ticket. I saw a bum conked out in a subway car. More were sleeping in the station. I grew nostalgic for Chicago.

I would love to run the LA Marathon next year. After the Chicago Marathon in October. And, of course, the San Diego Marathon in June.

Not that I'm looking ahead or anything.

Health Club Hunt

Saw a very good health club today: a clean, well-lit establishment with up-to-date machines, a generous two-hour parking validation, and a great locker room with a glassed-in jacuzzi, faux wood lockers and carpeting that didn't appear to be Astro Turf.

The sales rep, a young guy named Reynaldo, pressed hard for me to sign up this very day. He overcame objections like nobody's business. I was offered a one-day discount, a money back guarantee, and a girl. (Not really, but if Reynaldo thought it would help him close he might've hinted at it.) I have one more health club to check out, so I declined. I told Reynaldo he'd probably end up owning the club very soon. But all Reynaldo wanted to hear was that I'd sign up this very day.

On the swimming fashion front, I noticed today that I am "overtrunked." My swim trunks are long, boxer style, and decorated with garish flowers, and Hawaiian words like "Mahalo." They are perfect for pool parties, vacations, and trips to Hawaii where they pass unnoticed. However the pool I frequent mostly attracts competitive swimming types. The guys wear smaller brief-style trunks. But I will not be stampeded. Big, baggy trunks are just fine for aqua running.

A further note on aqua running. I mentioned the chill/warm contrast. There is also a hot/warm difference. On bright sunny days, my head bakes. Today I put on sun screen. As a result, my pasty white Irish skin now has a head with movie star tan.

It appears as if I could only afford to send my head on vacation and it had a great time.

Emerald Nuts in a Bind

On Sunday, San Gabriel Valley Team in Training will run the Emerald Nuts 5K. This 3.1 mile race follows in the wake of the L.A. Marathon down Figueroa and back to the Staples Center.

Traffic promises to be such a madhouse, that many of us will take the Metro Rail from Pasadena downtown to Union Station.

Nothing else really to say.

I just had to come up with something to justify the title.

Cross Training News

Interesting note on aqua jogging. Wearing a flotation belt, only your head and topmost shoulders extend out of the water. The local aquatic center features heated outdoor pools. Last week was cold. Thus my exposed head was chilled while the rest of my body stayed warm underwater.

Was birth like that?

Hill training begins tonight. Alas, I have a commitment that will keep me from joining my teammates. I learned so much last fall about my form and how I tend to run with my back and shoulders tight.

Health club shopping continues. Another update this week.

Parking is the key.

Indochina History Break

Today marks the 52nd anniversary of the Viet Minh attack on the French garrison at Dienbienphu — a remote valley in northern Vietnam near the border with Laos. The Viet Minh were an umbrella group of Vietnamese nationalists under the leadership of communist Ho Chi Minh. They had been fighting the colonial French, and other Vietnamese nationalist groups, since 1946.

The French viewed their position in a flat valley surrounded by hills as an offensive base. From there they would venture out and cut the Viet Minh supply lines, preempting an attack on Laos. As a result of this outlook, the garrison never outposted the hills. They'd be attacking and, besides, it was impossible for the Vietnamese to haul any significantt artillery up there.

Unaware of French opinion, the Vietnameses went ahead and hauled heavy artillery up onto the hills along with daunting amounts of anti-aircraft guns. On March 13, they let loose a barrage, followed by a human wave attack that engulfed a French strongpoint manned by crack Foreign Legionnaires. The fight was on.

For the next several months, while peace talks droned on in Geneva, the Vietnamese strangled the French. All French supplies had to come by parachute. The planes—many flown by American contract pilots— braved intense flak dropping their cargo. As the garrison was compressed, the drop zone grew smaller. Food and ammunition ran short. Meanwhile, generous supplies from nearby communist China—including American ordinance captured in Korea— enabled the Viet Minh to bombard their opponents at will.

Despite horrendous casualties, the Viet Minh seized one French strongpoint after another. Finally, on May 7, 1954, it ended. The French surrendered. Over 10,000 men marched into captivity, many of whom died in Viet Minh prison camps. French colonial rule in Vietnam and Laos ended. In 1955, Vietnam was partitioned into a communist north and a non-communist south along the 17th parallel.

Now back to running and writing stuff.

Storm Running

Finished a ten mile run today with Team in Training. This is the first time I've run with my Summer pace group. It's also the last since pace groups will be reshuffled following next week's 5K.

Stormy yesterday and today. Snowline crept way down the mountain. Through breaks in the mist you could see the San Gabriels covered in green and white. They looked moldy.

Lots of zig-zag running on trails covered by wide puddles or strewn with washed-down rocks and debris. Chilly rain fell now and again with a hail storm thrown in for seasoning. Many runners wore black, plastic trash bags. Jeff, a seasoned TNT veteran, recommends 55 gal. generic brands that tear easily. In addition to low-tech water-proofing, the bags are warm.

After practice, I was very greatful for a working car heater.

Ahhhh!

Hard Luck Harufa

Popped in the The 7th Voyage of Sinbad DVD the other night. Here's a film I love; seen it dozens of times, but I'm always catching something new. For instance, Sinbad's loyal 1st Mate, Harufa, played by Alfred Brown, takes a real pasting for three quarters of the film.

He's kicked by a Cyclops, locked up by mutineers, roasted and almost eaten by the same Cyclops, fights a giant roc, saves the magic lamp from the evil magician who then kills him.

On top of that, he was comic relief.

He wore a lot of turbans, that Harufa.

Scrappy guy, but very unlucky.

Resting Today

A tough training week. Ran two miles Tuesday; strength training on Wednesday; ran two more miles Thursday, worked out on a cardio machine at Club #1 on Friday; then ran eight miles with TNT on Saturday. My calves feel like limestone bricks.

There's 90 minutes free parking for Club #1. However their policy mandates that guests be logged out of the computer by a sales rep. This gives them an opportunity to sign you up every visit. This policy also squanders time so that you must hustle out the door, down two blocks to the parking garage, up the stairs to your car, drive down to the gate. By now 90 minutes have passed and you're out a couple bucks for parking. I'm souring on #1.
Continuing on my health club tour, I checked out an aquatic facility last week. The young woman showing me around seemed to think I'd grown up there and was familiar with the jargon. ('Comp pool, 50 meters, Wed. Family Night, busy rec pool; no float.')

Still, I may go test swim tomorrow morning when most people are at their jobs.

Rejection Spam

One of my short-stories was turned down by an undergrad publication. I received the standard email rejection: "not selected, try again, etc." However the staffer sending out the notice hit reply-all. Myself and about fourteen other writers got the same rejection as well as each other's email addresses.

After discreetly notifying the publication of their goof, I checked my inbox. Two of the rejected writers were now squabbling, with one threatening to "bitch slap" the other — in reply-all mode.

To top it off, the name of the publication was something like "Silly Brain Magazine."

"By their works, ye shall know them."

Every Picture Doesn't Tell A Story

Summer TNT started on Feb. 4 and I have yet to run with my pace group. However, my injured tendon and knee feel much improved. This Saturday we run eight miles on trails above the Rose Bowl. I'll be running solo once again. Perhaps I'll join them next week for ten.

Visited my old land lady. She's in a nursing home out in the San Gabriel Valley. Her bones are like popsicle sticks and she weighs 87 pounds. I pushed her outside in a wheelchair so she could have a couple of smokes. The nursing home is her last stop before Judgment Day and she knows it. Tough old gal.

Got work on a new animated show. It's developed from a well-drawn picture book. Alas, the well-drawn pictures need a story propelling them forward and there is precious little. The main characters don't really want anything and there are no consequences if they stay in this slothful state. In addition, there is no antagonist standing in the way of their anti-goals. It's just characters and a setting.

However, it pays decently and right now that covers a lot of absentee elements.

Booked Up

I'm deep into the outline for my young adult horror novel. The time line idea faded as more details suggested themselves. So I'm moving ahead, letting new concepts and characters steer me toward whatever ending they like. Then I'll go back and tidy things; hone the chapters in my writing workshop; get feedback from various trusted folk.

Afterwards, notes get added and I write the first four chapters. Finally, my agent takes chapters and outline around New York, seeking an editor who believes in the story. And I dream of listening to spooky soundtracks ( Hans Zimmer's "The Ring") and writing a horror book.



A fine goodly dream and a path I intend to follow.

Best in Awhile

Ran six miles with the team today. I would run one minute, then walk two. Felt pretty good; my knee was heavily wrapped; longest I've done since my injury at Pacific Shoreline three weeks ago.

I think Aqua Running helps.






T'ai Chi makes a return to my exercise rotation. Great for tendons.

Between swimming, cardio machines, strengh training, and T'ai Chi, I have to remember to eventually wedge in a bit more plain, old, ordinary running.

They say it's a big plus for marathon training.

TNT Strength Training

A new TNT training wrinkle this season: strength training. Not weights, but exercises that build up the core — torso — and other parts. One pass through the six different stations feels deceptively easy. Two passes and I want to nap. The training is held in a foothill sport's facility catering to professional athletes. Clients also include teens with well-off parents.

Health Club #3 broke the portly string. The place was brightly lit and filled with busy slim people. I got the impression they went to starter health clubs just to get in shape to join this one. Plenty of cardio machines and Spin classes. However, parking was a big pain.

And so I'll pass.

Who wants to walk several blocks to exercise?

Health Club Shopping

Ran a little at practice last Saturday, perhaps a quarter mile. Some soreness. Longest I've run since the injury. Walked three miles yesterday. Felt fine. I think I need to add a health club to my cross-training. Today, I started shopping.

I selected five within a 10 - 15 minute drive from my home. At Club #1, I was met by an obese sales rep the size of a landing craft. Not exactly your health club poster boy, but competent enough in his chosen field. This club was a meat and potatoes operation with lots of weights and cardio machines; parking was so-so; great monthly rate. No pool. I signed up for an inexpensive 30-day trial while I check out the others.

Club #2 featured a very buff sales rep; fantastic parking, great location, but tiny cardio section. There was an outdoor pool and whirl pool. However the whirl pool was filled—and I mean this in the sense of Jell-o filling a bowl—by a great portly man. God bless him for belonging to a health club, but the sight of this guy rising out of the water cooled me out on Club #2.

A supersize leitmotif? I'll know more after seeing Club #3 tomorrow evening.

No Charms in the Tank

Orgins may differ, but all USMC apricot prohibitions are held by Army tankers. In addition to apricots, armor personal believe Charm's Candy — small hard candies found in field rations — will cause rain. They too are unwelcome aboard tanks. And not just tanks. The apricot/Charms rule pertains to Marine Corps amphibious tractors and LVTs as well as the Army's entire array of steely vehicles. Here's an AP article written just prior to the Iraq war that touches on the these touchy subjects.

Tank Superstitions

Spoke with a young Marine veteran last night. He told me about the mystical world of armored vehicles. As a former Marine, I was fascinated to learn that apricots are most unwelcome aboard Marine Corps tanks.

It seems they attract gremlins.

Back in World War II USMC tank maintenance outfits noted that every Sherman broken down with strange, unusual mechanical problems had C-ration apricots aboard. The only logical conclusion was that tank gremlins, lured by the aromatic scent of tinned apricots, had monkey wrenched the machinery. And so a tradition was born and, ever since, apricots have been abhorred by USMC tankers.The young Marine who told me this was a grunt. But his father, a two-star Marine general, had spent most of his career in tanks. And a good portion of that career was spent gobbling down apricots from the turret. As far as I know, the general's tanks never suffered undue mechanical troubles. However, there were many men who would not ride with the general.

He was seen as reckless.

The Pool or If They Could Sea Me Now

Did I swallow this much water today? No, but it sure felt like it. Swim coach Georgia had me doing a mixed side/crawl stroke prior to teaching the side stroke. But I'm not that adept at kicking on my side. Coupled with a tendency to tighten up, I'm finding myself sinking and ingesting a fair amount of chlorinated water. Georgia realized that a bobbing corpse is a poor advertisement for swim lessons, so she had me use fins. Wow! The express lane of swimming! I zipped across the pool gulping less water in the process.

Aqua ran afterwards but my knee could only take about 15 minutes.

Slow, slow recovery.

But all this water had made me a much cleaner person.

I revel in that.

Post-Injury Swim Lesson

Worked out with my swim coach, Georgia. We trained at a small pool in Pasadena. I learned that I have strength and ease in the water. In fact, I could be a crackerjack swimmer save for my inability to breath without swallowing water. This isn't a problem in, say, mountaineering, but turns out to be a crippling drawback in the swimming community.

Among other drills, Georgia had me do "rockets" where I exhale jumping up from the bottom of the pool, blowing out my last breath as I break the surface in order not to swallow water. Overall, practice turned out to be a serious cardio workout.

Afterwards I did some aqua jogging. Wearing a flotation belt, you run in the deep end, concentrating on form. After about fifteen minutes, my right knee ached a bit. I called it a session, drove home and iced it.

My goal in swimming is to do lots of laps and not drown.

And not have my trunks fall off.

In time, I'm hoping new goals will suggest themselves.

On Being Injured

Being injured makes me angry. Watching teammates run while I guard their sweatshirts hurts more than my damaged tendon.

I went to the chiropracter this week. I would've been better off handing the money to one of my coaches. All I got was R.I.C.E advice: Rest, ice, compress, and elevate.

On Monday, I meet with a swimming coach. I need to brush up on basic strokes. Swimming laps and aqua running will be my primary exercises while I mend.

If it were possible, I would trade that big, fat Pacific Shoreline finishers medal for a leisurely four-mile run.

But such is the way of things.

Better now than in May.

In Passing

Both our coaches named Katie set personal half-marathon records on Sunday. Because of horribly snarled traffic, I started the race late. I was outbound at mile 2 or so when they zipped past on their way to the finish line. We said 'hi' and 'bye.' They looked strong. They finished the 13.1 miles together in 1 hour and 37 minutes. That averages out to 7 minute 26 second miles.

Also, two of my Hawaii teammates ran a 10K that day in Redondo Beach. Ernesto bested his 10K time from last year while Nick cruised the 6.2 miles in "54 minutes and change," cracking 9 minutes a mile.

And so good things occurred on a disappointing day.

But I did get the big surfboard finishers medal.

And free ice packs.

Go Team!

Injured my leg yesterday at the Pacific Shoreline Half-Marathon. I'm at mile six, cruising along at pace, when the very tendon I praised in earlier posts for healing so well turned on me. Sharp inflammation. I slow. More pain. I walk. I walk for two miles. More pain. I walk slowly. Young and old — running and walking — pass me.

By mile nine I'm limping. If there were a First Aid tent in sight, I think I would've quit. I've fallen so far back, I'm surrounded by marathoners. (They're on mile 16.) I walk as far to the slow side of the course as I can. Still, some runners speed past and cut sharply back in front of me — like drivers zipping around slower motorists out of spite. Their actions stand in contrast to other marathoners who cheer me on as they pass.

My sweat dries and I start to chill. Now I'm cold and hobbling. The sun is out, but still misty behind the clouds. At mile 12 I spot the Huntington Beach Pier and speed limp. I finally cross the finish line in 3 hours and 23 minutes. (That would be a great marathon time.)

I head for the First Aid tent. Grabbing an ice pack, I sit on the curb and numb my tendon and knee. A few members from my Team in Training chapter stop by. They ask if I can make it to the parking lot shuttle. I can and do. Eventually, I arrive home to ice and the Super Bowl and an assignment that had to be turned in Sunday night.

During the run — and subsequent long walk — I was glad to be wearing my purple TNT jersey. There were lots of "Go Team!" from runners and spectators. I had the sense of never feeling alone. I was indeed part of a team. That's something I'll always remember about the Pacific Shoreline Half-Marathon.

Tendon to Business

Big farewell dinner for the Winter Team last night. Many members will be back for the monthly alumni runs and several intend to race San Diego on their own. Still, it was the last official time we'll gather as a team.

Speaking of racing, I ran my 3 mile time trial on Wednesday afternoon. I had the Rose Bowl practically to myself. My time was 27.53. But that night I felt a pain in one of the big tendons running down my right calf. I iced but next morning there was swelling around the knee. I iced again and elevated the leg, but ended up dashing about on errands more than I cared to. Today the leg is much better; swelling is gone. But I need to ice it over the next two days. If I still feel any tenderness on Sunday, I won't run. I'll just show up and support the Katies. (Both our summer coaches are named Kate and both are running Sunday to set personal records in the half-marathon.)

I really want to run the half marathon, even though it will just be to practice pacing.

Pacific Shoreline has a cool surfboard finishers' medal.

Cemetery Dance Rejection

Had a short story returned from Cemetery Dance Magazine. They rejected my submission but encouraged me to try again. As horror magazines go, they are on the high end, publishing the likes of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and, hopefully, me some day.

Back to work.

TNT SGV Marathon Team Kick Off!

Summer TNT officially began today. Teams from all over the greater LA area met in Culver City. Great bunch of folks. When I first encountered TNT last July they were so upbeat and positive I thought they were cult members planning on marrying all the new comers to each other in a ball park. However I learned that the outgoing attitude necessary to fund-raise coupled with massive running endorphins helps to produce such positive people. And they reinforce each other in goal setting and goal reaching. A far cry from many of my bitter, sarcastic writing friends.

As I've mentioned, the first San Gabriel Valley team run is next Saturday. But since my knees are hurting a bit, I'm planning on icing until Wednesday, running my three miles solo, then icing again until the half-marathon on Sunday.

Oh, and start fund-raising too.

Also, I should get a job at some point.

A Novel Idea

As soon as I think I've seen it all, something happens to remind me otherwise. The company that I passed on has made yet another unconventional financial offer. The offer has good points and bad. However production starts the week after next and many other issues remain unresolved. I'll make a decision Monday. Meanwhile I'm pressing ahead on an outline for a young adult novel. It's about a teenage guy who must confront an ancient evil that his relatives helped unleash.
The novel features a big tree, monsters, Indian lore and lots of jokes about California people. Events span 3 centuries, so I'm writing a time line listing story points in chronological order. Afterwards I'll play with the order as I build an outline.

There's a sense of urgency here. My agent likes the story and is willing to shop it around. That means it's up to me to write the outline plus the first four chapters. No excuses — like having to make money. I've leaned on that one a lot over the years. If I could finish the marathon, I can write the book.

As soon as I'm done blogging.