A Thank You.

I've had some time now since the race to let my body recover and to ruminate on the incredible experience that was the marathon. After what proved to be a tough and very humbling race, the body feels back to 100% after more than a week of rest and (mostly) healthy gorging. The mind has had time to digest and place in some context the whirlwind of a weekend that was. With this post, what I expect to be my final post for sometime (although I'm almost certain we'll revisit something similar in the not too distant future), I wanted to accomplish two things: 1) recount the experiences of race day for my own documentation and for your curiosity, and 2) say thank you to everyone who has been a part of this. Here goes.

The alarm went off at 3:30 am. Sarah woke with me and helped get me out the door. Folks at Team Boomer really emphasized making race day as stress free as possible and I had tried to have everything ready to go the night prior. This was definitely the right approach as getting out of the apartment was no trouble at all. It was pretty chilly out in the morning and I was bundled up in sweats when I left Sarah's. I dropped into an all night bar and coffee house at around 5:00 for a coffee to go. It was full of partiers from the night before dressed in Halloween garb, eating their drunken eggs and bacon, some still working on beers. They all seemed genuinely confused that a man could be up and preparing to go for a run at such an hour. From there I hailed a cab down to Central Park South where I was to board a Team Boomer charter bus that would take us to Staten Island. As I exited the cab and began to walk across the street a cyclist, out early for her morning ride, recognized me as a marathoner and wished me luck. The positive energy put a smile on my face.

I had hoped to catch a few extra minutes of sleep on the bus, but the nerves and good will text messages that started coming in before 6am did not allow for this. The sun was still making its way up into the sky as we crossed the Verrazano and arrived at Fort Wadsworth around 7:30. Team Boomer provided a comfortable tent in the charity village where the 85+ members were able to find shelter from the wind and cold and prepare in comfort. There was a lot of conversation among the folks strewn out across the ground in the tent, but I opted mostly for ear-plug mode and tried to zone into some good music to help me focus.

In what seemed like only minutes the time had come for me to check my bag and head to my corral. I was set to begin running in the second wave which went off at 10:05 am. All runners had to be in the corral by 9:35 or so. There was an endless line of port-a-poddies inside the corral offering a last chance to take care of business before the gun. After capitalizing on this opportunity I used the remaining time to continue to stretch. From the corral we saw the first wave go off and watched them trot above us across both the upper and lower levels of the bridge. Sinatra's "New York, New York" came on over the big PA system which put another smile on my face. Soon after, we began to move up towards the finish line. This was the first time in my life I'd found myself in a crowd of individuals that were about to run a marathon. I was surprised by the relaxed mood of the majority of the people, many of whom were smiling and chatting. I think I was able to feed off that energy and relax myself which really allowed me to take in the moment.

Knowing that the race was about to begin was a great feeling. I was excited but there were very few nerves. The moment was a long time coming and I was just happy to have completed my training, met my fundraising goal, and proved to myself that I had the guts to get to the starting line. My body felt good - no recent aches or pains - and I felt ready to begin a long race. I shed my sweatshirt layers, threw them to the side to be collected for donation, and walked beyond the gate towards the finish line. The crowd seemed to quiet down a bit now, a collective realization that a difficult task lay ahead. Game faces were on. This was it.

And after a few more moments we too were a-pace to the sound of Sinatra. This turned out to be the most emotional moment of the race for me. It was the only time I had to fight off tears. I was there not to post a super competitive time, but simply to show myself and others that I could go out and complete this thing. And with those first few paces it was immediately apparent to myself that I was doing so. Those strides across the Verrazano, packed in amid thousands of other runners, are something I will never forget.

The bridge was something of a slow calibration period for most people, I think - an opportunity to get a feel for things. Everyone is running slowly at that point because of the limited space (I ran a 10:30 in the first mile, well above my target pace of 8:55-9:05). And despite it being a moving mass of people, its quiet. It was more of a time to settle into that subdued mental place that is required of a sustained effort. Go to zero. And hopefully you've tapped into your inner fortitude and found your comfort zone before spilling out onto the streets of Brooklyn, because when you do its no longer quiet and you can not possibly ignore the influence of the crowd. Which is not a bad thing. The crowd starts as a trickle just after the bridge but quickly turns to a stream and then a torrent of people lining the streets. The cultural diversity of New York is on full display as the predominant ethnicity changes as one runs through the different neighborhoods. I often found the outstretched hands of kids looking for high fives irresistible.

Not too far into the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, maybe about mile 3, someone came up behind me and smacked me on the shoulder and said, "hey!" It was a friend from high school, Lisanne. She had alerted me on Facebook that she would be running and at about the same pace as me. We were both very happy to see one another and ended up running the next 10 miles together, chatting and giving one another encouragement along the way. We talked training, and strategy, and made general observations about the crowd and about life. I have been struck more than once that the community of marathon runners is a very real one. Everyone who runs seems to be extremely supportive of every one else, regardless of skill level, and always willing to share helpful information. Lisanne (who would go on to smoke my time) and I were separated at a water stop somewhere in Queens. The crowd was still dense and it was easy to lose someone in the fray. I was on my own again.

It was shortly after this that some of my troubles began. Pain began to set in in my right calf and knee, eventually working its way up to my hip. I wasn't pleased about this, but I wasn't shocked or worried yet either as these had been mild trouble points along the way during training. I was wearing a patella support band on my right knee because of pain experienced during training, especially during some of my longer runs. The pain started to intensify around mile 15 when crossing the Queensboro Bridge. Things get quiet on the bridges as the crowd disappears, and that expanse crossing the East River seemed to go on forever. But the reward of the dense crowd packed in at 1st Ave is known to lift the spirits and it was no exception for me. That jolt of noise and energy gave me a boost, no doubt, but unfortunately it was not enough to adequately sustain me for the miles ahead.

Around mile 17 I heard a familiar voice call my name. I looked to my left to see another high school friend, Jen, with her husband and daughters just behind the barricade. I quickly ran over to her, gave her a hug, and muttered the telling words, "I'm so tired." They had come in from New Jersey to enjoy the day and to cheer me on. Another incredibly touching gesture and one that gave me another real boost. But reality quickly sets in when you turn around and begin working your way back up the road. Another mile up the road and the gravity of my physical state began to make itself clear. My pace had slowed a bit at this point, but I was still contemplating the goal of a finish somewhere near four hours...until the cramps started. I think I stopped between mile 18 and 19 for the first time to try to stretch out my legs, hoping that would improve the cramps that were now radiating out from my calf muscles in either leg. But the reality is that when cramps begin, its already way too late to deal with them effectively. I used to get severe cramps during high school football and they were very much on my radar as a potential problem, but despite my precautions and preparations they surfaced on race day. Salt imbalance is a major part of CF and it got the better of me this day. At the 30k split (18.9 miles) my time was 2:59:30 - a projected finish time of about 4:12. At the 35k split my time was 3:41:18 - a projected finish of about 4:27. In other words my pace fell off from about 9:10 seconds to 13:30 seconds per mile in those roughly 3 miles. I was crashing.

Needless to say the rest of the race was very difficult. The dehydration was clearly affecting me and my legs were beginning to shut down. This was disappointing and frustrating because I had not experienced this in any serious way during training and I had been vigilant about drinking Gatorade along the course. It snuck up on me and now it was taking me out. In subsequent conversations with some of the other CFers that ran, they all recommended the use of salt pills prior to and during the race. Advice I will surely heed in future efforts. If there was a bright side to this, it was the simple fact that I was limited by my legs and not by my lungs as one might expect for an individual with CF.

The last 7 miles were a real gut check. I had to keep it together a midst watching any chance of finishing under four hours evaporate. I had to do my best to manage a tremendous amount of pain and fatigue with every step. And I had to do my best to keep a respectable form at 110th street where I knew my family and friends had congregated. This was mostly for not though, as somehow I missed them (and the incredible turtle-themed signs Sarah and my sister Emily made) and they missed me (fortunately I did see my Aunt Jane). Perhaps the most disappointing part of the race was entering Central Park. This was the part of the race that was supposed to be triumphant - the part where the runner relishes in their display of stamina and toughness and is rewarded with the throngs of adoring onlookers. Instead I had to shut all that out and focus on the task of getting one foot in front of the other, sometimes walking, so I could get to the finish line and start rehydrating. It was a very humbling experience watching waves and waves of people run passed me on their way to a much stronger finish. My official finish time was 4 hours, 42 minutes, and ten seconds.

Despite all this though, it would be misleading to spend too much time dwelling on the disappointing parts of the race because the positive experiences of the day far outweighed the struggles. As I would soon find out, crossing the finish line was actually just the beginning of the excitement. After some trouble locating my checked bag (which was probably a blessing in disguise as it forced me to keep walking and probably work out some of those cramps) I made my way up to my uncle's apartment on W 86th street. What started as plans for a rendezvous of a few core supporters had grown into a much larger group in the days immediately before the race. When I arrived I was thrilled to see a group of over 20 people that had assembled to congratulate and share in the my accomplishment.

The crew of family and friends that assembled for post-race festivities.

Without question this was the most rewarding part of the day. The race hadn't transpired exactly as I had visualized, but here I was with finisher medal in one hand, beer in the other (I told you I needed to rehydrate), surrounded by family and friends and having accomplished what I set out to do. The next couple hours were spent drinking, eating, laughing, recounting the race, and catching up with loved ones. Life doesn't get any better. It really doesn't.

Being in that apartment, feeling the encouragement and love, made clear to me that this was much more than a personal experience. So many people had a part in it and without what turned out to be an enormously successful fundraising campaign I truly doubt I would have found the motivation to follow-through with something like this.

There are too many people to thank personally (though many, many thank you cards will be making their way through the mail shortly). I just want everyone who has donated, or lent a few words of advice or encouragement, or read this blog to know that from the bottom of my heart I am thankful. Thank you for being a part of this journey. A journey from which I emerge a stronger, more optimistic, more prepared person ready to deal with all challenges that lay ahead. You have inspired me and together we have done something very real. Let's do it again sometime.

Go Time.

I'm sitting now in Sarah's apartment on the Upper West Side drinking a tall glass of water, eating plain yogurt, doing the meds, and checking and rechecking everything I have neatly laid out on her couch for tomorrow. The coffee pot is set for 3:30 am.

I am reflecting on the training that began in April and I remember the decision. It did not come at once - not an instant crystallization. More like something that started lukewarm in the recesses, gradually demanding more volume in the sphere of my consciousness. From some seed planted long ago, years ago, that has managed to find enough sunlight and water in the conversations and inspiration I took from others to grow into something real.

As many before me understand, and as I have come to understand, that decision to train for a marathon is in essence a bet with the self. It is an agreement to turn inward and challenge, for more than 26 miles, the mad conglomeration of bones and muscle, and nerves and blood, and experiences and memories, and doubts and fears, and strengths and determinations that make you, you.

I have not run 130 miles per week, and I'm not going out to break records tomorrow. But I have put myself in a position to complete this marathon. And that, even putting CF aside for a moment, is something special.

And as the gates and grandstands in Central Park await, empty and cloaked in darkness now only a few short blocks away, I turn inward again. I'm ready to go.  

Photo Documentation.

A couple photos stolen from the internet from the Newport Half.

Newport Half Marathon.

Less than 3 Weeks Left to Make a Donation!

Well it wasn't that hard, but if I had to do it again I think it would have been hard.

That was my conclusion from the Newport Half Marathon that Sarah and I ran on Sunday. Crossing the finish line I was relieved that I did not have to run the same distance again. But as we know, in a couple weeks I will have to run the same distance again...

Weather was fair with some wind, mostly sunny.  It was a beautiful course with a few hills that meandered along the southwest rocky shore of Aquidneck Island. There were long stretches of ocean views with sailboats in the distance. And this being Newport, one runs in the shadows of mansions.

I felt pretty strong throughout the race granted I was running at a pretty easy pace. I ran a 1:56:44 - an 8:55 mile. I felt very strong on hills which was encouraging.

As with all strenuous activity the best part is it being over. There was complementary minestrone soup, pizza, gu packets, and Gatorade for all runners after the race. No small task for a race with almost 4000 people. There was also free beer. The race was sponsored by Narragansett Brewery and we got one free Narragansett tall boy each for finishing the race (SCORE!). We drank up in the award tent and then made our way back over to the mainland for some more beer and bar food (and "Pumpkin Bombs" at Sarah's insistence) at the Mews Tavern in Wakefield. All in all a great way to spend a beautiful fall day.    

Sarah and I shortly after finishing the Newport Half Marathon.

The day's prizes.

New Kicks!

Did a nice little sundown 7 miler today and was feeling like I had some ran-far capital to spend.  Bought myself a Howlin' Wolf record.  Also bought myself a new pair of mother f%$*!g kicks boyeee!  These are the pair I'll be running in in just one more month! Happy Friday!

Reflections On Obamacare From A Poor, Sick Kid That Used To Live In Massachusetts.

Fine. I give up. I'll chime in. I really didn't think I'd be driven to this, but all the political theatrics, all the misinformed Facebook rhetoric, the entirety of the misunderstanding of the law that is Obamacare stemming from both innocent and very unvirtuous origins has me feeling exasperated. The fact that Congressional Republicans would go to the lengths that they have to try to repeal the law elicits the same confounded expression I just took out of my multivariate statistics class. I'm frustrated, depressed, and a little angry at the state of the misunderstanding of what this thing is and its actually quite relevant to this blog. I'm in a good position to try to explain Obamacare from an interesting perspective because:

• I'm sick
• I'm poor*
• I used to live in Massachusetts and have purchased health insurance using the model that is now being implemented throughout the country. 

Some biography for context...

As folks who have been following this blog know I have Cystic Fibrosis. That qualifies me as sick by a long shot - annual prescription drug costs that flirt with 6 figures are no joke. Compounding difficulties that stem from the maintenance of my health is the fact that I have chosen, for the time being, a path of lots of work for little pay. I am a research assistant pursuing a PhD in wildlife ecology (and as of a few weeks ago I also move boxes around a liquor store for $10/hour so I can avoid using my credit card at the grocery store). This decision comes in part because I am passionate about what I am doing, but also because a terminal degree opens doors in a very competitive field with few career positions and very limited prospects for growth over time. I am fortunate to have a job that offers adequate (albeit lackluster) health insurance for the first time in my life. 

You might assume my struggles are the product of laziness or lack of direction, but believe it or not, us granola eating, tree loving types clamor for the opportunity to pull weeds in a National Park somewhere for virtually no pay, and just getting to the position I am in is a rather competitive and time consuming prospect. I spent years paying very high premiums for private health insurance with very lackluster benefits (especially when it came to prescription coverage) in the years following college. From 2007-2012 I worked with the National Park Service performing various seasonal biological technician positions at Cape Cod National Seashore, also completing a MS in wildlife ecology during this time. Health insurance is not offered with seasonal Federal positions (and my option for health insurance through school was an outright joke), and every year it was back to New Jersey in the Fall where I lived with my parents in order to be able to cover living expenses, namely NJ health insurance premiums that exceeded $500/month. 

Come 2011 I decided I could no longer take the prospect of returning to NJ to live with my parents and decided to make Massachusetts my new home some how, some way. I switched my residency to the Land of Belichick, got me a nifty new driver's license, and realized I could now qualify for this slick new (sort of - it was enacted in 2006) health insurance program that people from the state seemed to brag about. And they really did - regardless of political affiliation so far as I could tell, there was a real pride, especially among young people, in the fact that Massachusetts took care of its own and provided affordable access to what is some of the world's best healthcare. 

Sometime around September 2011 I jumped on board and purchased a health insurance plan using the Commonwealth Connector, a website that helps people find plans for which they are eligible. No bullshit, I logged on for the first time with less than an hour before the enrollment period ended (for the entire year!) and found a plan that was both significantly less expensive and fulfilled the essential requirements that my very complicated situation requires. I settled on a plan from Neighborhood Health, a non-profit corporation that operates in New England, and virtually overnight my premiums were reduced by more than 50% and because there was an out-of-pocket maximum incorporated into the prescription drug portion of the plan (which my previous plan did not offer despite the higher premium) I would now finally have some relief from the endless cycle of dealing with patient assistance organizations in order to pay for medications. Had I realized that I probably would have qualified for a subsidized plan based on my income, my premiums may have cost less. I soon found a specialist at Mass General - considered one of the best hospitals in the world - and continue to receive care from that team to this day. 

Saving $250 a month is a big deal to someone on a very modest income. Especially us independent types who have a tendency to piece together a living outside of the realm of the corporate world. Having that extra cash on hand can easily be the difference between assuming additional debt or paying down debt. That's exactly what my experience was and its exactly the kind of experience more people need given the times. But I'm just one person, right? And this whole healthcare law is something that society has to swallow. Its great if we can help sick people, but what about the choice of someone who is young and healthy and wants to roll the dice without health insurance?  That's a fair question and the fact is that there are many out there choosing to do so now. And they can continue to do so, the difference is they will now be penalized if they opt out of buying health insurance. Those on the Right frame this individual mandate as a tax. But do taxes usually provide the individual directly with new services? No, they don't. Its more like a strong incentive for young people to play a necessary role in the healthcare market - a market that they have been largely absent from in the past. A market that desperately needs them in order to control costs for individuals, businesses, and governments over time.

Do some people have a legitimate gripe with having to buy health insurance? Yes, they do albeit a pretty modest one because most will be getting it for a song. Unlike their predecessors (read: me) who did not get it for a song. Are throngs of young conservatives going to rebuff the program on the principles of liberty, justice, and freedom for all? Doubt it, but we'll see. One of the most intriguing things that gets overshadowed by all the political nonsense is that the story of whether or not the people want this will ultimately be told in the market. Something that those who oppose this law don't want you to know. If people don't sign up, the program will fail. And so be it. The thing is, a principle of economics is that if you want people to exhibit a certain behavior, give them an incentive to do so - which Obamacare does in a really smart way by making decent health coverage affordable and offering disincentives for continuing to go without. The great irony of all the political theatre is the fact that Obamacare is really a conservative idea. Presidential campaign spinelessness aside, give Mitt Romney some credit for recognizing and implementing a good market based solution to a real challenge in Massachusetts.

Table 1. Some common criticisms of Obamacare and my responses/opinions to those criticisms.

So what about Massachusetts? The health care system works wonders for individuals, but how's it working out for the state government and the state as a whole? Well, its not perfect, but its pretty darn good. The bad news is it does cost the state government money. See this link for a quick synopsis (note the quote at the end). Upwards of $100 million dollars a year!? Sounds scary right? Well, its not. Deval Patrick himself has said that it barely affects the State's bottom line. The only other bad news I could find is that emergency room visits have not decreased as expected, something that can probably be explained by a general higher demand for services in the state. Which leads us into the good news beginning with ... a general higher demand for services in the state. In other words, its a good time to be a doctor or healthcare professional in Massachusetts (business is booming). The other obvious good news is that almost everyone in Massachusetts has health insurance: ~97 percent. For comparison, in Alaska and Florida more than 1 in 5 people don't have coverage. Healthcare costs have risen at the national average in Massachusetts and the health of the people has improved. And not for nothing but the people of the Bay State have peace of mind.

Implementing Obamacare on the national scale will probably be less efficient and more costly owing mostly to the fact that a minority are philosophically opposed to the idea of a government having any hand in markets and/or having any hand in anything. Ideology is usually an impediment to progress. But for states that have elected to create their own state-based exchanges rather than having them controlled by the Feds (which was an option to everyone) I suspect things will go pretty smoothly. The only folks with a real gripe are the small to medium sized businesses, many of whom are now going to have to pay for employee coverage or pay a penalty (more significant a penalty than individuals foregoing coverage). It will probably hit them where it hurts in some cases. Nonetheless, it will push few over the line. I have no sympathy for big businesses crying about giving health insurance to their employees. They will be able to absorb the cost.

So that brings us to Congress and the government shutdown. Republicans are staking their future on the fact that they think their constituents don't want Obamacare which may be so in some places. But those constituents have had their perception of Obamacare confused and diluted by these same politicians, most of whom go to bat for more powerful interests than the sick and poor. What's going to happen when they actually see for themselves what the program is? Maybe that is the answer to why these Republicans are so opposed to the law becoming law (see what I did there?). When you start believing your own bullshit the people will be left with no choice but to sweep you to the curb come the next election.   

*I consider myself very fortunate for everything I have and I use this term somewhat tongue-in-cheek. And besides, I count my richness in friends and experiences. But for all practical purposes I live at the razor's edge during the best of times. I'm not necessarily proud of this and the plan is that one day this will change. For the time being though: PB&J anyone?             

Sport.

Is sport all about competition and winning?  You decide.

Data.

One of my favorite things about running all these miles is coming home and logging my distance and pace in "the Jog Log," as I call it. The Jog Log is a spreadsheet of my running that I began in April when I decided I was going to give this whole marathon thing a go.  As I've now accumulated a fair amount of data, I think its a good time to share. Data often tell a story and I think the following are self explanatory:

Error bars are standard deviation.

Turtle Trapping Cross Training.

Field work is hard work. Sarah and I marked and released this old beast on Saturday afternoon. Fun stuff.

A Little Philosophy. A Little Pragmatism.

Living with Cystic Fibrosis is a bit like having a monkey on your back. Those long arms draped around your shoulders and neck. He's a wiley old devil; helping himself to your lunch, always making noise, sometimes tugging on your hair or poking you in the eye. As you age together he demands more attention and time to appease. And he just keeps putting on weight - even after you've stopped growing. Over time he gets heavy and threatens to choke you off.

What's worse, sometimes the little punk starts talking smack. Tries to get in your head. Play on your insecurities telling you what's the point of working hard, you won't even get the chance to do anything important. You might as well just pack it in he says. Most of the time you ignore him, but other times you can't help but ponder these choice words. Its inevitable. The monkey affects how you feel and how you think.

And unlike most monkeys that come to rest on your back, this is not one you can ever shake off. You are the monkey, and the monkey is you.

Such is the dynamic of living with chronic disease. You must learn to live with the beast that is inseparable from you. The best strategy is to get to know the thing and accept it as part of who you are. Pay close attention to its personality - its temperament and particularities. Know the enemy and know the self. Do not provoke, but do not be afraid to fight back when provoked. The most efficient evolutionary strategy: tit for tat.

All that is grand. Important for placing one's existence in context. Useful for life's reflective moments. But what about the waking in the middle of the night alone, coughing blood, on the verge of medical bankruptcy moments? All the mental clarity of all the Buddhas isn't enough to help get you back on your game during times like these - experiences that are all too familiar among those living with disease.

These difficult episodes call for pragmatism and an effective response. All the practical wisdom that I have accumulated in 30 years of living with disease distills down to the following: keep going.

Momentum is the product of mass and velocity. One must remain kinetic in order to sustain his or her functionality. Hesitation or delay may be met with grave consequences. You must keep going.

Having a tough day? Health getting you down? Unsure about the future? Feeling like you can't get the motor running? Do your meds and get moving. The only option is to power through, get past the tough times, and come out on the other side in a better place as a stronger individual.

This resolve requires both a mental and physical response. There is broad consensus that physical exercise is essential in combating CF. In other words, get out there and run around. Of course, the level of intensity will vary depending on the severity of the disease, but by making exercise in some form a routine part of your life you can start to shut that monkey up.

I began training for the New York City marathon in April in the hopes that doing so would help to quiet my own monkey. I have been very fortunate in that my hospitalizations have been few and far between over the years. But in the winter and early spring of this year I was beginning to feel the weight of CF and considering a hospital stay for IV antibiotics. The average day was filled with more coughing and my PFTs were down at the doctor's office. The milestone birthday of 30 had me thinking on a time frame usually reserved for life's big decisions.  There I was, three decades in, reflecting on how fortunate I had been to that point, but wanting so much more from life in the years to come. If I was to prevent CF from gaining ground - prevent that monkey from bulking up - I was going to have to step up my efforts in combating the disease.

The most rewarding part of training thus far is observing progress. Not just in an anecdotal way (less coughing, sleeping better), but by meticulous logging of miles run and pace I have been able to observe my capacity for exercise increase significantly along the way.  I'm currently running approximately 20 miles per week to go along with additional cross training such as biking and surfing. My average per mile pace has fallen by more than one minute, this despite the fact that my runs are now much longer than when I started.

The marathon is about two months away. Twenty miles per week isn't such a bad place to be at this point, but its not going to cut the mustard for a run that requires you run 26 in a morning. The increased training to come will be a challenge, but it will also be an opportunity. An opportunity to earn a banana or two with every double digit mileage run that I record in my spreadsheet. Earn those bananas and shut that monkey up. An opportunity amid the pain of exertion to practice the mantra of successful CF management- to just keep going.

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Life is Good.

In life, it is important to work hard.  I ran 8 miles today at a a 9:07 pace. That's a sub-four hour marathon pace folks. And because Sarah said this past weekend that I was bony, I did 120 push-ups.

In life, it is also important to have fun.  Sarah and I are braving the traffic and headed to the Cape later today to see the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars at the one and only Beachcomber.  One of my all-time favorite bands; a band that reminds me of all the beautiful things of Cape Cod that I hold so dear.

Life is good.  Get after it and keep after it.

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Achieving My Target Weight.

This is a picture of me from this passed New Year's Eve at Okemo.  If you look real hard you can see my snowboard.  As you can see I was quite overweight only a few months ago.  Running has helped me slim down and achieve my target weight.  Thanks running.

And lastly, what you know about my panda mittens Boyeeeee??!!

A Picture Says A Thousand Words.

This is me finishing a 4 mile race on Sunday.  Ouch.  Imagine what I'm going to look like after 26 miles...

When Considering a Goal.

As training continues I'm beginning to think more about setting a goal time in which to complete the marathon.  I'm no Meb, so its something I need to be realistic about.  In my heart of hearts I want to finish in a time that starts with a "3."  But as I track my progress and I continue to run 4,6, or 10 miles and my pace is consistently in the mid- to high-9 minutes, I begin to question how realistic that may be.

In order to run a sub-four hour marathon, one has to run under a 9 minute 10 second mile.  From where I sit now, this seems like a lofty goal, but when I look back at previous times I have some hope. In 2010 I ran a half-marathon in 1:54:34.  That's a pace of 8:44.  I could add 20 seconds to that pace and run a sub-four marathon comfortably.  Trouble is getting back there...

Athlinks is a great website I used regularly when I was running with greater frequency (2009-2011).  It allows you to claim and log your personal times from an enormous database of online race results. You can view my results on the webpage. Some of my better times include a 7:28 5k in Montclair and a 7:33 showing at the Ashenfleter 8k in Glen Ridge.  I am certain that I couldn't post these times now (I was in pretty damn good shape between running and Jiu Jitsu back then), but I am also confident that given enough effort I could get back there.

All this factors in to if and when to draw a line in the sand and declare a goal for a marathon finish. I am not ready to do so yet, but I do believe in setting discrete goals for myself and therefore I likely will do so. One of my greatest fears is being average.  Thus I will almost certainly choose a time that is better than the average (mean, median?). From some (kind of sketchy) information I found online, it appears to be about 4:08 for my age class at the NYC marathon. We'll see.

I have a lot of running yet to do and thus a lot of time to meditate on just such a quandary. I'll keep you posted.

Speaking of goals, in my last post I stated that I would love to reach $5,000 before the end of July. Check. Thanks to a slew of new donations we are now flirting with $6,000 raised and currently the Team Boomer fundraiser leader out of 39 individuals.  Thank you so much for your support. Please continue to spread the word.

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I was a bum last week.  Apparently the obscene amount of seafood that Sarah and I gorged on in Maine was enough to knock me off my wave from the week prior in which I achieved a new high mileage mark.  I was just simply unmotivated and did not want to run.  Team Boomer had its first conference call last week and one of the things that Coach GP (he's the official coach for all those signed up for the team) said resonated with me.  He said that a greater proportion of those who set out to run a marathon don't make it to the starting line compared to those who make it to the starting line but don't make it to the finish line. After last week I believe him.  It's perfectly clear to me now that the real challenge of a marathon takes place in the weeks and months prior to race day.  And so much of it is psychological, not physical. So admittedly, I struggled a bit. That's the bad news.

But there is good news too.  I put the unproductive week behind me with a 35 mile bike ride on Sunday. This spurred on by my friend Steve. We took a ride to Willamantic, Connecticut, rode our bikes for 3.5 hours and then gorged on nachos, burgers, and beers at a crowded brew pub set in a beautiful old post office.  It was a great day and an excellent, sustained workout.  My legs were a little sore the next day - that's a good thing. I hadn't been on my bike for some time and the ride served as a great reminder as to the intensity and just plain fun of a good bike ride.

And there's more good news - I'm headed out now to get a few miles under my belt before the sun sets. Also this blog has reached a milestone of sorts by recording its 1000th view as of today.  Not bad.  If you've been thinking about sharing with friends, please do so.

Lastly, I caught a delicious bass this morning from a kayak.  Seriously, I ate it.  With taco seasoning.  It was delicious.  Does fishing count as cross training too?

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Fundraising update: current total raised is $4,190.  Wouldn't it be nice to get to $5,000 before the end of the month?

Feelin' Good.

So the 5k that Sarah and I thought was taking place this morning, actually took place yesterday.  So, yeah, apparently we didn't quite pay close enough attention to details on that one.  Nonetheless, while I didn't get to push myself against the official clock of a road race, I did surpass my goal of running 5 consecutive 5ks this week. My normal pace is somewhere just north of 9 minutes, but when I'm feeling good and its not too hot (damn this heat slows you down), I've run some consecutive sub-8 minute miles. Weekly total miles came to 17.15.  That represents a new weekly high and its also the first time I've run for five consecutive days.

I'm just about where I wanted to be at this point. That's good. I think Team Boomer is going to begin reaching out to runners and provide access to their coach beginning next week. I'm looking forward to having some additional input.

This week was auspicious with respect to health news as well.  I made the early trip up to Boston to see my CF doctor at Mass General Hospital on Tuesday.  Its only the third or fourth time I've visited them, but I've already established an excellent level of cooperation with and respect for the team.  I met a new member of the team this week, Mathew - a physical therapist, who specializes in working with folks with CF.  He was an outgoing, well spoken guy and explained to me that I'd be doing an exercise test.  Essentially throwing me on an increasingly challenging treadmill and monitoring my physiological vitals.  Apparently all this exercise is paying off because (I don't think this was hyperbole) when we finished and he took a look at the numbers he told me that I was probably in the top 1% of patients with CF with respect to cardiovascular function. He was especially thrilled with how quickly I recovered (pulse rate, oxygen saturation, blood pressure). A veteran of 8 Boston Marathons himself, he had encouraging words for my efforts and gave me a great deal of confidence that I would actually be able to do this. 

From here it was over to the clinic office where I performed my obligatory pulmonary function test (PFT). A PFT is a hallmark of all CF doctor visits and consists, essentially, of blowing as hard as you can into a long tube attached to a machine that monitors things like volume and rate of air flow. PFTs produce a metric that nearly all CF patients (and their health care team) place above all others when monitoring the progress of the disease - the FEV1/FVC.  FEV1 stands for forced expiratory volume in one second - the absolute maximum volume of air you can blow out of your lungs in one second. FVC stands for forced vital capacity - the total amount of air you can forcibly blow out in one breath (measured during the same hulking gasp and exhale as FEV1). The ratio you produce is compared to a regression curve of what is considered normal for one's age and body mass index and reported as a percent.  What is considered normal depends on the patient and who you ask, but anything below a 70% is usually considered problematic for someone with CF (at least that's been my personal perception). My last time at the doctor's (March) I had blown the lowest FEV1/FVC of my life (~63%). Not a good thing, but not terribly shocking as the disease progresses with age.  This time around I had some additional, albeit tempered, good results.  I blew a 68% (pre-albuterol) and a 70% post-albuterol.  This is a step in the right direction, but certainly something I look to improve upon as I continue training.

So with the completion of this morning's (almost) 4-miler, a midst this relentless heat, I'm feeling good. And now a little celebration. Sarah and I are hopping in the car and headed north along the coast to Portland, Maine. Lobster anyone?

Road-trippin'...

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Five 5k's in Five Days. And a Moving On.

As I write this I'm sitting on the floor in what has been my (most consistent) bedroom for the last 11 years.  My parents are selling the house in West Orange and are under contract to close mid-August. Joscelyn and I just loaded up a rented Budget Truck destined for Rhode Island with the few real pieces of furniture that are mine, including my bed (read: mattresses) and (garbage picked) desk.  Thus the floor.  I'll probably only be back here one more time before they move.  I've moved around an extraordinary amount since my family moved from Glen Ridge to West Orange shortly after I graduated from High School.  I've occupied for significant periods of time more than 20 bedrooms during my 20s - that's no exaggeration.  Despite the fact that this is my family's house of longest occupancy since I was born, I've never felt the same attachment to this place as I have other houses we've lived in (i.e., Sunny Lane in Ballston Spa and Belleville Ave in Glen Ridge).  But nonetheless it is with substantial pause that I reflect on the experiences had under this roof...  my parents without exception open door policy; life's milestones marked with parties of so many family and friends; my mother's late evening dinners; Christmas mornings with my grandparents; getting to know my sister's husband Spencer; BBQs on the back deck or patio; Yankee games and Rutgers games on the couch with my father; bunkering down during Sandy; Sunday parties; the in-between post-college suburban doldrums; all-night studies during my master's; love had; love lost; love found again.

This place, not by design, has emerged as the place where many of the pivotal events of my post-adolescent lagged maturity have taken place. Where I entered as a boy and leave a hesitant adult.  A cocoon of sorts - not to be missed, but not to be under appreciated either.

Looking forward now.  My weekly mileage has been up to about 12 miles. Until this passed week where I really slacked.  Granted I did a little rock climbing and a little surfing, but I did not get out and put shoes to pavement to the degree I know I should.  It is with a ever-so-slight ping of urgency that I want to get back on track.  And therefore a commitment made before the strange public place that is the internet - starting today, I'll run a 5k each day for the next five days.  This will culminate with Sarah and I running a sanctioned road race in Rhode Island on Friday.  I'll post my results once official.

In 2009 and 2010 during some personally trying times, I ran from this house with regularity.  All the way along Pleasant Valley Way, passed West Orange High School, through the Jewish neighborhoods often smiling or excusing myself as I ran passed folks on their way to temple on the narrow sidewalks.  Past Eagle Rock Avenue and finally all the way down to Verona Park where I would touch the lamp post on Bloomfield Avenue and turn around.

Time to lace 'em up one more time...

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Running in the Heat. And the Best Protein Shake Ever.

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How the hell did I ever survive triple sessions in the New Jersey August heat?  I specifically put off my run today until the evening hours to let the temperature cool down a bit.  At run time it was probably only flirting with 80 degrees here in South Kingstown, RI.  Nonetheless, this weather had me sweating like I was a righty at bat against Mariano Rivera.  And the run was only a little over 4 miles.  I think I left as many pounds of sweat in my t-shirt.  To make matters worse this was the second time I'd sweat through my shirt today as another day in the field trapping turtles in the mid-afternoon heat proved grueling.

Anyone who played football with me in High School knows I am a notorious cramper (ask Joey Schoch or Sean Hirrell about the post-Ponderosa Steakhouse episode).  Folks with Cystic Fibrosis lose salt in their sweat at a much greater rate than a normal person thereby making them more susceptible to the perils of dehydration and electrolyte imbalance.  Hence cramps.  For this reason I have ample concern over attempting to run 26 miles with the only assemblage of muscles that I have.  What if its 80 degrees in NYC on November 3rd?  There wouldn't be enough Gatorade in all the delis in all the Boroughs!  

My only real plan to prevent cramping is to be vigilant about hydration before, during, and after runs.  Is there anything else you can do?  As my mileage begins to tick upward...8,10,12,15 miles...I'll have a much better idea about how my body will respond to prolonged water and salt loss.  Hopefully it won't be too dramatic.  Or too hot in NYC in November.  All this global warming stuff is hocus-pocus anyway, right?

And now (as promised) shifting gears...

Here is the recipe for the most delicious protein shake ever invented:

2 bananas

2-3 tablespoons peanut butter

2 cups milk

1 fat free (or fat...whatever) chocolate yogurt

1 tablespoon semi-sweet chocolate chips

ice for coldness to preference

Blend it up!!!

Drinks like a Butterfinger milkshake but its damn healthy.  About 30 grams of protein.  And very easy to get all your ingredients organic.  Now go get out and run so you have an excuse to make one. 

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Old People Running.

Sometimes you're just not in the mood for running.  But you have to go out.  Because you told all your friends that you're gonna run real far in a few months.  So you kind of pout along, dragging your feet saying to yourself, "I'd rather be doing something that wasn't running."  And then you hit an uphill.  And then it starts raining.  Things are looking grim.

But then plodding methodically down the hill comes a grey haired wonder.  An old lady wearing sneakers and a fanny pack and running with a little hitch, but basically as fast as you are.  And she's smiling.  And then she smiles to you and waves and says, "good morning!"  And you can't help but smile and say good morning back to her.  She passes and with her passes your malcontent.  Now your smiling.

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Virginia is for Runners.

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I've spent the passed week in Front Royal, Virginia at the Smithsonian-Mason School of Conservation taking a class on wildlife genetics.  The course has allowed me to take a big step forward in understanding the possibilities of working with DNA to answer questions related to wildlife conservation and ecology.  And  like so many opportunities that come to pass when working in this field, it has afforded me the chance to come to a place renown for its natural beauty.  The school is located in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains at the northeastern edge of the Shenandoah National Park.  Although the pace and rigor of the course (often times going at it for 13 hours/day) has precluded me from venturing into the surrounding hills for any substantial period of time, I have been able to escape in the early morning hours for a handful of runs.

Not to mention the fact that the 3200 acre grounds house breeding programs for (and the opportunity to view) some of the most critically endangered mammals and birds on the planet (cheetahs, clouded leopards, red pandas, maned wolves, Przewalski's horses, white-naped cranes), this place and the surrounding Shenandoah region hold captive my naturalist heart.

This morning I got out with a short window of time to run before having to report to class.  In a pinch for time I figured I would take full advantage of the topography in order to maximize the benefit of my exercise.  To the north of campus (built upon an old military installation) there is a large hill called Racetrack Hill where rugged United States military men from centuries passed would engage in equine sport.  And as it happens, an oval shaped, mowed hilltop is a convenient place to run.  I had come up here briefly on a run a few days prior and watched the physical repercussions of what was unquestionably a large, fast-moving snake slide through some tall grass along an old stone wall.  Like a child, I ran after the moving grass.  But as in waking from a dream where some wonderful fleeting feeling escapes...the snake got away before I could glimpse it.

Needless to say I was eager to return to Racetrack Hill. I spent the rainy morning running laps around the primitive track.  I was soon lost in the place.  Hayed hillsides giving way to rolling hardwood forests, lingering fog obscuring the rounded peaks, lone purple thistle rising from the grass, swallows zipping overhead.  All of this appealed to a deep seated sense of place.  A distant sense of home.      

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