2011 NJ Devilman - First Attempt at Triathlon

I signed up for the New Jersey Devilman Sprint Triathlon several months ago after receiving sound advice from our friend Susanne. She explained that it was a good beginner tri. She was right. Still . . a first tri is a first tri and I had plenty of race-week jitters. Jitters like I NEVER had before any running event including my first marathon. Of course, the difference might be that it is impossible to drown while running a marathon. Conversely, it would be quite a simple thing to drown during a triathlon. This was first and foremost in my mind especially as the spring temperature stayed low keeping the normally warm lake nice and cold.

I didn’t realize these tri things started so blasted early. I gave my personal race videographer every opportunity to bail out but after the drowning discussion, she insisted on coming along, insurance policy in hand. (Okay . . not really, but she may have been somewhat worried.) We crawled out of bed around 4:00am Saturday and traveled to the metropolis of Cedarville, NJ. When I say metropolis think “Tiny Village”, which it is. Cedarville is a small farming community along the Delaware Bay shore that I’ve driven through probably a thousand times on my way to Fortescue (an even smaller village) to go fishing. Every time through town I see people fishing in the little lake and think “The bay is 5 miles away. Why would you bother fishing in that pond”? Yet today, I would be swimming in it. Yikes!

We were some of the first to arrive in the parking lot for the race. I parked and got my bike and bag out and was going to head toward registration and packet pick-up when my phone rang and Joe Lombardi (Soarfeet) was on the phone. Turns out he was moments away so we waited. Joe is an experienced triathlete and his guidance would prove invaluable.

Joe arrived and after meeting his new dog Kona, we made our way with our bikes to packet pick-up. This all went smooth and we received a shirt, hat, packet and timing chip. After stopping for body markings (first time I’ve had someone write numbers on me with a pen) it was off to the transition area to setup. I was bib number 136 and found my spot in transition just a little way from Joe. This was handy. “Joe what do I do with this big sticker with my number on it”? Oh . . it goes on the bike. “Joe what do I do with this little sticker with my number on it”? Oh . . it goes on the helmet. And so it went. (Seems these triathlons like you to have your number everywhere.) I proceeded to lay out my transition area based on many hours of watching transition videos on Youtube. Apparently I looked like I knew what I was doing because bib #138 was watching me carefully. I stopped and said “This is my first one too”. He started laughing and said he’d better watch someone else. I got everything laid out except for my bib and race belt. I had been through my bag completely 3 times without finding it. I was SURE I had packed it. No matter . . off to the registration tent to buy another one for $10.00. (Later, I found my race belt in my bag, right where I packed it.)

After getting setup I returned my bag to the car and bumped into Susanne Vanzijl and her husband Sean. Susanne just looks like she knows what she’s doing at a triathlon (even before you look down at her Cervelo Tri bike with Zipps and her Aero helmet). Race results would later show that indeed she does know what she’s doing. Anyway, we chatted for a bit but she had to hurry to setup as they got their later then us.

Fast-forwarding to race start, I was one of a few people without a wetsuit. The whole tri thing was new to me and the race predictions had been for 70 some degree water. As it turns out it was 66. Oh well. Susanne had packed an extra wetsuit but I wasn’t going to try to learn how to use that on race day. I’d survive for 4/10ths of a mile. Joe and I wandered to the start area. A boat ramp with a couple of floating docks. It was a deepwater start where we’d paddle out, and wait for the go signal. Joe & I were both in wave 2. Susanne was in wave 3. I asked her to pass nicely when she went by.

Anyway, we watched wave 1 go and then got the signal to hit the water. We filed down the dock and in I went. Oooh. Cold. Okay ... actually not too bad. I quickly acclimated to the temperature while swimming out to the start and was thankful I hadn’t fooled with the wetsuit. I was still paddling out to the start and heard “10 seconds”! I thought, “Is that for us”? “Go”! I guess so . . . I dove immediately into a freestyle and after submerging my head completely panicked because I couldn’t see 2 inches in front of my face. I jerked my head out of the water and stopped. Try again . . . no . . no good. (Did I mention this was my first Open Water Swim?) There was no logic to this. I knew it wouldn’t be like the pool but for some reason not being able to see was scaring the bejeezus out of me. I had to keep my head out of the water. I began crawling toward the first buoy head held up. Then on to a side stroke. Finally a weak back stroke. I decided when I got to the first buoy I could easily swim to shore and slink away. I was ready to quit now and we were less then 20 seconds in to the race.

I made it to the first buoy faster then I thought. Okay . . just make the turn and start going to the second buoy. More back-stroking. At one point I looked back and saw a wave of blue swim caps coming at me. The third wave. I was near the second buoy so stopped and treaded water out of the way to let them go by. No point causing more chaos then necessary if I were to drown. I noticed a lot of other people having way more difficult time then me swimming.

Finally, I made my way around the 2^nd bouy. I had to stop and hold my hand up to see the 3^rd buoy as I was looking straight into the sun. I spotted it and resumed my back/side stroke routine. I was making better time then you’d think but not nearly so good a time as a strong freestyle. I got around buoy 3 quick enough and turned toward buoy 4 and the dock. As I side stroked on I could see bikes on main street. “Okay enough of this bullshit. Swim you moron”. Finally, I relaxed, turned and swam a strong freestyle to buoy 4 and the dock. Of course, my left goggle filled with water. In retrospect, I’d have been MUCH better off leaving off the goggles. I gotta check the rules and see if that is legal.

I got to the dock, climbed out and hoofed it toward transition. It was a couple hundred yards to the timing mat and I passed a lot of people on the way there.  I hit the mat in the absolutely ridiculous time of 17:23 for a .4 mile swim! This was 211^th out of 253. At least a few people swam slower.

Transition 1 went smooth. I was glad I didn’t have to wrestle a wetsuit for the first time. I sat in the grass, put my socks and shoes on, strapped on the Garmin, donned helmet and glasses, grabbed the bike and left. I did take the time to gulp down some G2 since the swim was more strenuous then needed. Total time for T1 was 2:36. Seems slow considering how it felt.

The bike ride was fun. 10 miles out with a tail wind and 10 miles back into it but not that bad. I’ve been riding into worse wind all spring. Too many sprinters didn’t pass me though the lead edge of the Half Lite began passing me toward the end. Those carbon wheels sound like a car coming up behind you. Along the bike route I saw a race belt with someone’s bib attached, a nice looking mini-pump, and the head of what appeared to be a Garmin 205 or 305. I meant to go back and retrieve the latter and turn it in but completely forgot about it. I was conscious of the drafting rule but there were only a few places where I was near anyone fast enough to draft off of and made a point to hang back the required distance until I was ready to pass. I saw all kinds of bikes too: tri bikes, road bikes, mountain bikes, cruisers, and recumbent. It was clear you only need a bike. It doesn’t have to be fancy. The mount/dismount area for the bike was probably 150 yards from the bike out gate for the transition area. I ride with SPD pedals so popped my feet out of the clips about 50 yards from the dismount line and pedaled in on my heels. I’m not that good at clipping/unclipping yet and am not about to try clipping my shoes to the bike ahead of time. (At least not yet.)  I hit the scoring mat for the bike leg in 1:11:11. 128^th overall for that leg. As far as I’m concerned, right on target for me for now. Certainly better then the swim. Oh, I also identified 9 species of warbler by song along the bike route. I meant to mention that to race officials in case that merited some sort of time deduction.

Back to Transition for T2. I racked the bike, popped off my helmet, changed shoes and tied my laces (no yanks or anything yet), grabbed my hat, shiny new race belt, and bottle of G2 and beat it. I was surprised how many people walked the transitions. I guess at the stages we were at they didn’t think it worth it to run. I hauled butt out of there. T2 was 1:57. (It occurs to me the transition times are from the time you enter one gate, get to your spot, and leave the other gate so not just time at your mat).

By the time I left the transition area my legs were already feeling pretty good. The 20.5 mile ride was a good warm-up and the run from the dismount, through transition had shaken out the post-bike feeling. I was ready to run and it felt GOOOD. I thought “Now this is my thing”. I may not have been the fastest runner in the field but I can say I was the fastest while I was running. I passed everyone I saw. I got a lot of funny looks like “How can you be going that fast”. The first couple miles were 7:27ish. Mile 3 was a little slower . . maybe 7:50ish. But then I sped back up for the last mile. The course was definitely longer then the advertised 4 miles but I didn’t mind. I was really enjoying myself. As I came down the finish chute the guy in front of me was struggling. I accelerated thinking “I’m going to dash your hopes of that 127^th place finish”. He heard me coming and buckled down but I could tell he just couldn’t go faster. Then I spotted my wife with the video camera. I thought “You know what, I’m not gonna elbow this guy outta the way for one extra spot”. I eased up, smiled and gave the camera the thumbs up. As we went through the chute I congratulated the gentleman in front of me on a fine finish. He said “I heard you coming”! My run leg was 31:31 or 55^th overall. (I can tell triathletes hate running.) Final time: 2:04:41. Not fast, but a good learning experience.

Afterwards, I hung out with Age Group legends Joe Lombardi (and Kona), and Susanne Vanzijl as they accepted their respective age group trophies. (Susanne 1^st place, Joe 3^rd place). I got a finishers medal and a big kiss from my wife. So . . fun, friends, GREAT weather (70 degrees and sunny by the time we left), and my first tri in the books. Oh and most importantly, I met my single biggest goal for the race: I DIDN’T DROWN!

Rehoboth Beach Marathon - Dec 2010

Yesterday morning I competed in the Rehoboth Beach Marathon in Rehoboth beach Delaware. The decision to run this race goes back to my first marathon last month at Richmond. If you read my Richmond RR I said I was very proud of this personal accomplishment. I was and am. Entering and completing a marathon was something I once thought only crazy people did. (Of course, I was right . . runners rally aren’t playing with a ful deck.) I had entered Richmond full of piss and vinegar SURE that I could go and bang out a 3:30 marathon or better in my first attempt. I had trained hard and, arrogantly, felt I could do that. Long story short I crashed and burned. By all appearances, I finished with a decent time for a first time marathon. I’ve had many people tell me tons of folks would KILL for a sub-4:00 marathon. But even that night after finishing the race as the euphoria wore off and the excitement of the Runner’s World Challenge wound down I found myself unfulfilled and disappointed. Not that I’d finished worse then I expected but by the thought that I’d let myself down. The second half of the race had been a disaster that concluded with me trudging across the line. I had trained hard. I was physically strong. But I was weak mentally and felt that I had betrayed my training. No matter, I was going to try again in the spring at Shamrock. But that was 4 months away. That was 4 long months with every opportunity for injury, illness, or for life to get in the way of training. I was ready NOW! I couldn’t let that dissatisfied feeling smolder and fester all winter. So after a couple of private messages to trusted sources with much experience going back-to-back in big races, I perused the internet and found Rehoboth Beach. A few clicks later, I was signed up.

I mentioned nothing to anyone. I had arrogantly proclaimed my goals for Richmond and felt they were a foregone conclusion. I didn’t even tell my wife. She thought I was traveling to Delaware on business. (Not uncommon.) I had already decided I didn’t want to be set up for failure so if the weather was extreme I was going to skip it altogether. But I didn’t want anyone but me focusing on my performance or my finish. I didn’t want to have that self-induced pressure to perform. I needed to run my own race. My race goal was just to race smart, and strong and not betray my training with arrogance again. I was hoping time-wise for something under 3:40. If I got that then fine . . that would affirm my training. If my time was closer to Richmond then I would feel better about Richmond and affirm that finish as well.

I drove to Rehoboth Beach Friday evening. It was an uneventful drive. This is a small race. 1400 competitors or so for both the ½ and full events. There were several sponsors but the main one was the Rehoboth Beach Running Company. This is a small store right on Rehoboth Avenue. Packet pick-up and race festivities would occur here. They had a tent setup next door to accommodate things. I quickly got my bib, shirt, and a course map and walked down the road to see where the start was. Then it was off to dinner by myself at Applebees (3 cheese Chicken Penne is a great pre-marathon meal). I stayed at the Comfort Inn no more then 10 minutes from the start. Based on the predicted weather I decided to go with my most comfortable tights and Nike Dri-Fit shirt. It is long-sleeved but never feels hot. After pinning on my bib and laying stuff out I went to bed. I also had no less then 4 gels stashed in my running clothes. This was my biggest factor for poor performance at Richmond (lack of fuel) and it wasn’t going to happen again.

Race day was near perfect. Perhaps a bit cold but considering the time of year it could have been terrible. It was around 30 degrees at race start warming to the low 40s by 9:00am or so. I couldn’t tell this the night before but the start at the Rehoboth Avenue Band Shell was right on the water. With a 7:00am start we got to see the beginnings of a pink & salmon ocean sunrise before the gun. Both races went off together with the half-turning around much sooner on the more-or-less out and back course. One of the lessons I learned at Richmond was, for me, a pace group was a bad idea. No problem applying that lesson here . . there were no pace groups. The gun went off in a timely fashion at 7 and we were underway. We all shuffled/walked/ran/stopped/shuffled to the start line and then got up to speed. My plan was to pace around 8:10-8:15 for the first half and then try for a negative split on the second half. I carefully monitored this over the first few miles when one wants to go charging along on a cool morning. I think I verbally admonished myself on several occasions to slow down.

The course was actually quite pretty. A mix of the towns of Rehoboth Beach and Lewes, 2 Delaware State Parks, a nice trail system, and rural Delaware. From miles 4 through about 8 I got talking to a nice young lady from Albany, NY. She was doing 3 marathons in 90 days in order to join a local club. She had qualified for Boston in an earlier race. I gave her a congratulatory high five. At mile 7.22 the leader of the half went back the other way and he was positively FLYING. The guy on the bicycle escorting him could barely keep up. About that time I realized while talking to my fellow runner was fun I was violating another lesson from Richmond. Don’t get so caught up being social that you don’t run your own race. In Richmond I had run too fast because of this. Now I realized I was running too slow. So after the mile 8 water stop I picked it up and we parted ways.

The turnaround for the half was near mile 10. (Not the exact path back). After this there were a lot less runners. Even before then, the water stops here were much easier compared to Richmond just because of the much smaller number of runners. I can’t imagine what NYC or Marine Corp must be like.  I was never lonely. There were always plenty of other runners in sight and groups of 2 and 3 here and there. But my pacing stayed consistent. Before entering Cape Henlopen State Park we hit the ½.  Time to step it up a bit. I popped my new iPod Shuffle in and hit play. I did not drop the pace significantly but definitely picked it up a bit for a strong second half. After looping through the park we began the trek back toward Rehoboth Beach. In Richmond I crashed right before mile 18 and remember gloomily staring at the 18 mile marker for a long time as I walked toward it. As I briskly ran toward 18 now, I looked around and saw nobody was looking and gave it a one-finger salute as I ran by.

The miles began chipping away . . 19, 20, 21. Around then there was a small semblance of a wall. That nagging doubt “Just wak”. But I didn’t listen. The wall was small and I jumped over it and kept going. Fueling was a gel ever 6 miles followed by water at the next two stations, then some Gatorade. At mile 22 they had bananas and M&Ms. I ate half a banana. It tasted like manna from Heaven!

At mile 25 I was really excited and focused on the finish. I looked at my watch and realized I would easily beat my 3:40 goal. There was another water stop at 26 but I’m not sure who in their right mind would stop for water with .2 miles to go. Certainly not me!!! I cranked on by there and crossed the line with 3:37 something on the clock. It had taken a good 30-40 seconds to cross the line and I didn’t remember to stop my Garmin until I had gotten my medal, water, and space blanket. At that point it said 3:36:50 so I’m pretty sure once official chip-time results are posted it will be 3:36 something. This is approximately a 17 minute PR over Richmond. Not too surprising considering the second half there.

A couple of notes on the race itself. This was a smaller event but very well run. There was plenty of bathroom facilities at the start and plenty of water and Gatorade stops. (More-or-less every 2 miles.) There weren’t tons of people out cheering along the course. A few now and again and a bunch at the finish. The post-race food was adequate but I wouldn’t pay the extra money to buy a guest wrist-band if you had someone with you. There are a BUNCH of restaurants around the finish. If you have guests and friends just go to one of those. The shirts and finishers medals are very nice. If you are local and want a great late-season race on a VERY flat course this would be a good one. Note that if it were windy it would probably be miserable. We didn’t have a breath of air. It is also worth mentioning that there were runners from 40 States in attendance. I don’t think Delaware has a lot of marathons so for those looking to do 50 States it is one of the only opportunities.

Well . . I apologize that this was so long winded. If you stuck with me . . thanks! I hope you enjoyed the read.

Splits were:

1   8:17    14 8:07

2   8:02    15 7:56

3   8:02    16 8:03

4   8:15    17 7:59

5   8:07    18 8:11

6   8:23    19 7:54

7   8:18    20 8:12

8   8:16    21 8:03

9   8:02    22 8:33*

10 8:05    23 9:25*

11 8:01    24 8:43**

12 8:07    25 9:36**

13 8:03    26 8:14

                .2 - ? (TBD)

* This is where I found the little wall (and stopping to eat the banana)

** I think just running out of gas. These were tough miles. 

Richmond Marathon - First Marathon

26.2 is HARRRDDDD!!!!!

I can officially now say that. I can also officially now say that, unbelievably, I am a marathoner. It has been a long time since I have been proud of a personal accomplishment but I am indeed quite proud and happy about this. 

But first . . the race. We arrived in Richmond after a beautiful drive down, of all places I-95. The Maryland and Virginia foliage was a couple weeks behind Pennsylvania and quite peaked on our way here. The weather was perfect and remained perfect throughout the weekend. We drove to the Arthur Ashe Jr. Sport Complex and to the expo. I picked up my bib and packet from the Runner’s World Challenge booth where I met Jen Van Allen (who is now probably one of my favorite people ever) and several other contributors to RW. I arrogantly believed I could make a 3:30 in my first marathon and hit the Customer Service desk to move my Corral from 2 to 1. That was easy enough. Then I did some shopping including picking up a signed copy of “My Life on the Run” from Bart Yasso and spending a few minutes talking to him.

Then it was on to the Omni Hotel for check-in. I was surprised how far the hotel was from the expo. At 4:00pm, the RW Challengers got a two hour strategy session/entertainment from the RW crew including some stories from Bart about Comrades. Certainly something I am even more in amazement of now. After the strategy session, a bunch of RW Challengers headed off for our pre-race dinner at a local eatery.

Race day dawned cool and beautiful. 36 degrees. A little too cool to stand around outside but this is where the RW Challenge REALLY paid dividends. They had rented the National Theatre right by the start. (Literally.) We had warmth, food, coffee, and bathrooms! It was awesome. We sat and ate, and talked and saw the half-marathoners off. Then we got a picture of the first-time marathoners (including me). Gotta see if I can get a copy of that. After another pep talk from Jen and Bart we all headed for the corrals. I shuffled my way, confidently, to corral 1 and the 3:30 pace group. I hooked up with a couple guys I would run most of the first half with just by dumb luck.

At the start I was supremely confident and excited. I KNEW I could do 3:30. Our pacer did a great job for the first 6 miles staying in the range of 7:57 to 8:02. Perfect. 10K split was 50 minutes.  I had not had a chance (due to my own stupidity) to fool with the regular powerade they had on the course. All of my long runs had been done with Gels & water so that is what my fueling plan was. I took one gel to consume at mile 7 and then there were gels on the course at mile 14, and 21. Beginning mile 7, our pacer started getting a bit fast. 7:31. Hmmm. Mile 8, low 7:40s. Okay maybe my pace just seemed fast because I’d play catch-up after the water stop. But the paces remained 20-30 seconds fast through my 14. (Revised: After checking splits the pacer was pretty darn close to perfect. Must have just been me).

But at mile 14 disaster started. I don’t know how, but I MISSED the gels. I expected them to be on or near the tables. Later I learned they were being handed out before the water stops (a hundred feet or so). In the chaos of the water stop I had missed them. That can’t be good.

On we went. Mile 16 was the famous Lee bridge that is supposed to be the beginning of the Wall for most. It isn’t steep (actually completely flat) but is supposed to be windy. It was not all that bad though I did note the name of the last road we passed before heading on to the bridge was “Stonewall Avenue”. Throughout the course, there were members of “The Marathon Training Team”. They were simply there to help out the runners. I was planning on grabbing Powerade at mile 18 but at 17 I was already beginning to feel the lack of fuel. This was bad. Effectively, I was 17 miles in on one gel and water. Thankfully, one of the Training Team members had gels and I grabbed one. . . but it was too late. The wheels were coming off. Between getting behind in electrolytes and fuel I started getting a bit light-headed and crampy and had to walk a good portion of mile 18. This part of the course is the most desolate. A few people were out but not like the warmer confines of the city or the scenic beauty of the river. It was demoralizing to say the least to know I had been reduced to a walk and for the first time EVER as a runner was having to deal with cramps. Thoughts of just quitting were rampant. I had hit the wall and the wall had fallen on top of me. 

Then I saw mile 19. And I got another gel from another training team member. I started running again a little at a time. Starting mile 20 there were aid stations every mile. At each one I grabbed water and powerade and more gels. I stopped once or twice to stretch.

The walk breaks became shorter. I didn’t like them but it was either that or don’t finish. And I WAS GOING to finish. The 3:45 group passed. But I saw several other runners from the 3:30 pace group floundering as well. By mile 23 I was beginning to feel like the fueling was catching up. I was pumping in water & powerade and gels at each opportunity. Part way through mile 23 I began running for good again. I knew I really only had to make 25.7 and then it was a LONG downhill. I realized I could still break 4 hours and, you know, that isn’t that bad. At mile 24 I knew I’d be fine. That last 2.2 HURT. But the cramps were at bay, I was passing people again and cruising along around 8:45. Then I crested the hill on Cary St. and saw the finish line and the long lines of cheering fans and Bart Yasso jumping around like a madman just across the line. What a feeling! I crossed the line in 3:53:14. I was a very happy person as I was handed my finishers medal. 

Then it was off to the Omni for our special RW Challenge post-race reception with massage, food, etc. In the lobby there was a RW Challenge volunteer by the RW Challenge flag. She said, just go up to the second floor and pointed toward the steps. I said “We’ll take the elevator”. I no sooner hit the massage table then my calves locked up painfully tight. But Elaine kneaded them out and I enjoyed great food, and the fellowship of the marathon.

Later, after a shower, we all enjoyed an after party at the Bank and Vault right around the corner from the hotel courtesy of Saucony. I can say if you get a chance to do a RW Challenge event DO IT! I am so glad I did for my first marathon. I’ll do one again if given the chance.

But for now, it is lessons learned about fueling, and the doule-edged sword that is pace groups. Finally I just want to thank EVERYONE on the Runners World Masters forum and RW Challenge forum for your encouragement and support over the last year+ as I learned about running, and distance running. I could not have accomplished a marathon otherwise. 

Addendum

The Omni had a Starbucks in the lobby. That was the only place to get coffee. Sunday morning, the day after the race, I went down at 6:30 to get coffee. It turns out they don’t open until 7:00 on Sunday. When I got to the door, Bart Yasso was standing there looking in also wishing they were open. So having a half-hour we sat down in the lobby and fired up our laptops. For 30 minutes I sat surfing the web and talking running with Bart Yasso! How cool is that? Someone made the joke later that he’ll probably tell his kids about sitting and talking with me. But I think he might! You would think that after all the races he has done and runners he has met that they would all blend together but he seems to remember them all. What a great guy! (And Bart, I’m not saying that just ‘cuz you bought the coffee when Starbucks opened)!

Knee Deep in Autumn

There is no doubt that my favorite season of the year is indeed Autumn. There is the anticipation of the hunt but there is much more to it then that.  There are those perfect fall days that beckon to be participated in. Winter is interminably long with cold dreary bleak days and bare trees waving empty fingers at the sky. Spring literally springs upon us. One morning we walk out and it is warm and the birds are singing and, while it may get cold again, inexorably the season crawls forward as spring flowers leap from the ground and one day you suddenly notice that the trees are full of leaves and, gasp, you have to mow the grass! Still, despite its fast appearance, spring is with us for weeks. The same with summer. Because of the long days, summer seems to be the longest season of the year. In the heat of a summer evening, those cold, snowy winter nights seem to have happened somewhere far off in a distant land.

Fall is different. On the calendar it last for weeks but those few days of fall perfection do not. You know the days I mean. The color on the trees is peaked. The dried out corn in the fields is under harvest, the hay is golden yellow and giant rolls of it can be seen across the country side. The wild flowers are mature and while the leaves and stalks begin to dry, the colorful fall blooms wave in the breeze in stark contrast to the ripe golden brown hues around them. Birds and animals are busy all day long plucking ripened berries and wild grapes from shrubs and vines in preparation for cold days to follow. Everywhere there is the steady thud, thud, thud, of nut-laden trees dropping their bounty on leaf-strewn forest floors, lawns, and roadsides. On clear days, hawks can be seen far overhead wending their way South on their fall migrations but a moment perhaps to enjoy the day and the bounty below.

It is these days that make me want to get out and roll around in fall. I want to soak it up and get it all over me. As a hunter, I become part of the harvest but I can never seem to full immerse myself no matter how hard I try. It seems like there is so much Autumn out there that no matter what I do I can not get enough. And it doesn't last long. One good wind and rain storm and, while the bounty seems to be gone. Obviously it is still there for the taking but the beauty is removed. Colorful leaves are ripped from their stems and dumped unceremoniously amongst the ruin on the ground to turn into a brown and grey mush. Nuts and berries are shaken violently to the ground to be quickly consumed or rot. Farmers hurry to bring in the last of the harvest and get it snugged away to feed hungry mouthes through the ensuing winter.

Every day through the fall I watch out my car window for those perfect days. Even leaving work, I stop to pick up a few crisp sycamore leaves and crush them in my hands and enjoy the sweet autumn odor they emit. I go out of my way to walk through a wind-stacked pile of crispy, colorful leaves and close my eyes and listen to the crunch crunch crunch as I walk to my car. I enjoy the day and look forward to when my time is my own and I can be out there every day knee deep in Autumn.

Confessions of a Baseball Fan

One thing I may not have mentioned is that I am an avid baseball fan. Specifically, I am a born and bred Phillies fan. I bleed Phillies red. I am congenitally allergic to the Mets. Needless to say, I was delighted with the outcome of game 4 with the Colorado Rockies.

But I don’t just want to gloat on the Phillies success. I’d like to pay a small tribute to the fans of the Colorado Rockies. I saw a lot of Philliness in those fans. They are diehard, rabid fans who were willing to show up for game 3 on the coldest night ever in major league post season history. I love their chant for Troy Tulowitzki. Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap “TULO”!

As I watched the exciting 9th inning on the edge of my seat and even as I celebrated the outcome, I thought about those Rockies fans silently filing out of the stadium, heads hung low. I’ve been there many times as a Phillies fan . . . though all too often it is in September at the end of the regular season rather then in Mid-October in the playoffs. As fans, we are sad partly because our favorite team is no longer in contention for a championship but also because baseball season is over. For us baseball-inflicted types, we probably started following our team in February beginning with that exciting day when pitchers and catchers report to spring training. That little news tidbit at the end of the sports report on the news harkens the end of the long, cold baseball-less winter. We perk up a little wondering who is on the roster this year. Perhaps we check the teams website for the first time in months. Who is that guy? Where did they get him? What happened to my favorite player? How did the off-season surgeries go?

Before we know it spring training is in high gear. Players field ground balls, take batting practice and play grapefruit league games all the while signing autographs and taking pictures with those of us loyal enough to show up in various small ballparks around the warmer climates of the country.

Then April rolls around and the season starts. We spend a couple weeks checking out the new players in real game situations. We watch as rookies succeed and fail. Players are called up and sent down and rosters and line-ups are juggled as managers work out the alchemy that becomes the most successful team they can field.

By May we start to have an idea how our team is and who our stars this year are going to be. This may fluctuate in the weeks and months to follow, but the players we listen to and watch every day become like family. We follow them on the field, in post game interviews, on player blogs, and in the news. We watch statistics and even though we hope our team wins we also want to see our favorite players do well. We vote like mad to get them into the All-Star game.

Mid-summer brings lazy, warm nights. There is no finer time to be at a baseball game. We eat hotdogs and funnel cake and enjoy the evening breezes in shorts and t-shirts. Perhaps there are great fireworks and maybe even a foul ball as a souvenir. With any luck, the home team wins and we go home satisfied and happy.

After the All-Star break, the pennant races begin to take shape, and teams become either buyers or sellers in the race to the trading deadline. The managers and fans of potential contenders cajole their owners and GMs into going after the talent they need to make a playoff run. Managers of losers try to keep talent even though they aren’t a contender this year. In the eternal optimism of baseball there is always next year!

As the September pennant runs really heat up, our players and teams have become our extended family. We live for the evening ball game when we can put on the television or radio and spend a couple hours following the trials and travails of our boys. As September winds down we feel as though our very breath depends on every pitch and every swing of the bat. It is pure excitement. We soak it in while we can because we know somewhere in the back of our minds it is almost over. The feeling is reminiscent of the last days of summer as a child when you try to squeeze everything in and regret the days you spent doing nothing. Now you wish you watched every inning of every game.

If we are lucky, our team is one of the 8 to make it to the post-season. We get a few more days of cheering, hoping, and agonizing over the what-ifs. We want so bad to just win that next game and move on to the next opponent. Ultimately, the fans of only one team get to experience the high of a World Series Championship. This is truly a championship to be proud of. First, our team had to be one of the best in baseball after playing 162 games to hash out the contenders. Then we had to win 10 games in series to reach the pinnacle of the sport. There are no one game wonders in baseball.

For the first time in 28 years last year my Phillies gave me the honor of being able to celebrate that big World Series win. I screamed and jumped around like a school girl. This was something that for so many years seemed unachievable. It has been a privilege to say World Series Champion Philadelphia Phillies for the last year. I originally thought one would be enough to keep me happy for a while, but I find as the Phils progress through the playoff I want once again to watch that last pitch and see that last feeble swing by the opposition batter and feel once again that amazing feeling that my boys won the World Series. I want to talk to everyone I know about how incredible it is that our team won the World Series. I want to boast with pride for another year that my favorite team is the best there is.

Sadly, for too many fans, the season or playoffs will end without a World Series champhionship. Suddenly, our nightly obsession will be over. We will wonder what to do in the evening when there is no game to tune into or to go see in person. How will we get by? It doesn’t seem possible that 162 games have gone by and it is now over. It will be along winter before the season cranks up again. It is okay to be sad but it is also okay to say “Wait ‘til next year”!

Rural running

My many outdoor pursuits include running. Actually, I have had a love-hate relationship with running over the years and right now the affair is hot and heavy. To some degree it is a necessity. You see, I have the metabolism of my Mother's family. She fought with weight her whole life. She was never "fat" per se but she made a steady diet of sawdust and water to battle fat, high cholesterol, and all the fun and joy that goes with it. For me, if I eat fatty food and don't exercise, the pounds stack on quickly. But running is more then fitness and exercise. It is an escape from the daily grind and the pressures of life. It also allows me to stay in good enough shape to do all the other things in life I enjoy. I have also learned there is a wonderful, world-wide community of runners out there who "get it".

Another great thing about running is that it is easily combined with other interests. My wife and I have a little motorhome and camping is her passion and therapy. Happily, it is a simple business to go running while we are camping. In fact, it is fabulous because I can look forward to running in new places nearly every weekend. I get to discover new trails, new roads, and see new things all the while enjoying my run.

Obviously there aren't campgrounds in big cities and if there were we wouldn't go there. Our camping, and therefore my running is indeed quite rural. This works for me because I grew up as a backwoods boy and am still a backwoods boy at heart. Along with its beauty, rural running has its challenges though.

Not all with rural running is peaches and cream. There are definitely downsides. First and foremost is rural dogs. While many are well-behaved, most rural dogs on rural roads are free to roam their yard and property and seldom see runners. This always makes for an exciting wildcard. Usually, if I see a well-maintained house and yard and I am not too worried because the dog is usually well-maintained too. The excitement begins when you see the yard with foot long grass, the pickup with 6 coats of primer, and the couch and empty beer cans on the front porch. You KNOW not only do they have a dog but it is not a normal dog. It is some missing link between the modern canidae and some ancient, and especially vicious breed of wolf. This dog lies in wait under the trampoline with the torn cover for that one day a year when some foolish camper goes for a morning run and runs down "his" street. He kills the passing days by gnawing on the rubbery soles of the Aasics of the last hapless runner that went by (chewing the shoes because the bones have long since been devoured). Now, in most dog encounters you the runner hope the owner will be out and will intervene. But that will not be the case with White Fang. His owner put in a long night on the couch polishing off a case of bud light. He probably won't see the light of day until right before the NASCAR race at 1:00pm. He probably forgot to feed the dog before he went to bed too.

On one run this year, I literally ran by a junkyard with "Beware of Dog" signs everywhere and a large and steaming pile of dog sign laying at the shoulder of the road! On another occasion I ran by a yard that had 3 rather decrepit trailers on the property. This place definitely looked like Cujo's home. At first I was relieved because there was a sign for "Young Minds Daycare". Whew! Daycare . . okay probably no biting dogs there. My mind was just wrapping itself around the idea that there probably are people that had to take their kids to an old trailer out in the woods for daycare when I saw the next sign in the same yard. Beware of Dog! Great. I went into running stealth mode and peeked into the backyard. There were two unrestrained Pit Bulls staring off into the woods behind the house. Good . . they are distracted. I'll just run quietly by. I know right where this daycare/child kibble shop was because it was exactly 4 miles from where I started my run. I remember this because I have a running watch that loudly rings a bell every mile. As I "snuck" by and my 4 mile bell rang (aka the doggie dinner bell) my heart rate spiked and my pace quadrupled. A quarter mile down the road I looked back to see a hungry-looking Pit Bull standing in the street sniffing.

Not all dogs are perceived to be dangerous though. In fact the vast majority put on a good show but fail miserably in their attack tactics. Near my Dad's house (also rural) a small pack of ankle biters comes running out at me barking and snarling every time I go by. The biggest dog is the size of a large rabbit. I wave my arms and and yell and they all head for cover under the owner's automobile. Yesterday as I finished my run with amazingly few dog sightings, I heard the unmistakeable sound of a silently charging dog. Adrenaline pulsed in my veins, my heart leaped to my throat, and I turned to see . . . a Golden Retriever "charging". Yeah . . right. I had a golden. The biggest threat there was getting long fur all over my black running shorts. Over my shoulder I pointed and yelled "HEY  . . STAY". He got a bewildered look on his face and stopped as if he ran into quick sand. He hesitantly backed up, "woofed" a couple of times then sheepishly turned and headed back to his house.

Other dog encounters are down-right fun. Usually when I'm running I don't want to stop to talk or be greeted by a friendly dog. Sometimes you can't resist. A few weeks ago I was running down a country road on a beautiful morning and was admiring the wonderful landscaping at one house. The owner was on the front deck looking out. He suddenly looked down and said "No! Spike! Get over here"! I thought "Oh no . . Spike? This can't be good". Well, Spike turned out to be an adorable Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix. He trotted into the road and looked up at me with that friendly dog "Hi" look on his face and I couldn't resist stopping to greet him. I also didn't want the little guy running out in the road. I had to chuckle at the name "Spike" as I jogged on my way.

Dogs aren't the only challenge to rural running though. Just yesterday I had planned out my route on www.mapmyrun.com. Off I went with the first two roads and turns going as planned. Then I came to the  third intersection. Remember this is the rural road on an even more rural township in an even more rural county. The road sign had been hit countless times and blown by the wind for years without maintenance. I stared at the sign and the roads feeling a bit like Wayne Knight (Denis Nedry) from Jurrasic Park. Spin the sign and take a guess which way is right. Happily, my runs aren't that structured that I can't improvise if I guess wrong.

But after a summer of running and camping I will take rural running anyday over running in the city, suburbs, or on the track. It is inspiring to run miles along a field full of cows, or to share the early morning road with a fox heading for bed who doesn't think you see him as he hunkers in the roadside brush. I've seen amazing sunrises and sunsets, and watch hawks capture their morning dinner, all before most people are even out of bed.