Racing For a Cure!

Team in Training Fundraising Does Not Scam

2012-01-30T05:22:00.003-05:00

One of the many claims I've seen about TNT being a scam is that the fundraising scams people: that most of the money goes to the trip and LLS overhead, and that the runners don't follow-through. Here are some things I've read out on the World Wide Web. "These operations are a scam - 30 to 40% of the money raised go to the parasites running the charities." "It's a fraud if they don't do the race after raising the money - they should give it back." "Runners should solicit donations for an organization that has less than 10% overhead and do the race through a running club." "If TNT were a charity, their 'runners' would pay for their own travel."

How much of this is true or relevant? Fundraising is a big and an important enough topic that I will devote several posts to on my blog, starting with this one.

Let's start with the first statement above - that 30-40% of the money we raise goes to the organization's leaders. That is patently false - click here for the Charity Navigator Summary for LLS. Charity Navigator gives LLS a score of three stars out of four. Yes, four would be better, and if I were LLS's leadership, I'd be working to see how I could get the top mark. But three stars is good, and donors can feel assured that their money is going towards the mission in an acceptable fashion. Eight percent of LLS's revenues - not 30-40% - goes to administration. 17.6% of the revenue goes towards fundraising. For Team in Training, that would include travel expenses for runners and the tiny numbers of supporting staff that go to the event. If the event is a local race, the travel expenses are minimal. If the event is a destination event - San Diego Marathon for anyone but Southern California runners, Dublin, Chicago, New York, and so forth, then the expenses are greater. There can be airfare involved unless the participant chooses the "no airfare" option, and there is an extra night in a hotel. The amount of money raised is correspondingly greater for trips involving more travel. Typically, we might have to raise $1,500 for a local event and $3,400 - $5,000 for a far away event. And yes, some of the money raised does fund a significant part of the participants travel. All non-profits have fundraising and administrative overhead, and LLS is no exception. From what I have seen, 23.6% of revenue towards administrative and fundraising costs is not exorbitant. The comment about runners soliciting money for organizations with less than 10% overhead makes no sense - how many such organizations are there? Unless they have a huge endowment to cover these expenses, all charitable organizations will have to spend a portion of their revenues on administration and to raise more money.

I've seen comments about TNT participants getting all expense paid trips and staying in "very fancy resorts," all on the donor's dime. So what do we get on a trip? Well, it is not all expenses paid. For any event, LLS pays our entry fee. For a local event in the same city, that would be it. For an event in a nearby city - within a five to six hour drive from what I have seen - participants drive there at their expense, but they get two nights in a hotel (sharing a room or paying for half of the room if they want a private room) and two group dinners. For a far away event, we would still get the two dinners, but would recieve an extra night in the hotel in the shared room, and also airfare if we choose. Since the airfare is the largest single expense, you can opt out of reimbursement for it and then have to raise a lot less money, which some folks do. The hotels I've stayed in are usually very nice, but I've not stayed in fancy resorts. That may happen at times - but I cannot say one way or the other, because I've never seen it. I have to assume that if TNT ever stays in fancy resorts, it is the exception rather than the rule based on my five trips. Oh, triathletes and cyclists will get their bikes transported round-trip if the event is far away, but transport them themselves if it is within driving distance.

So yes, donations do cover those travel expenses - which are a part of the fundraising costs which amount to just over 17% of LLS's total revenues. So let's say you don't donate to TNT, but write a check for $100 in response to a mail or phone solicitaion for a typical charity. Well, a portion - probably about $25 - of that pays the administration of the charity and the company contracted to do the mailings or make the phone calls. With Team in Training some of donations covers the expense of the participant's running trip, but at least they had to work their butt off to get that far.

I don't agree that if the participant drops out and does not do the race, the donors should get their money back. That money was donated to a good cause, not to there person doing the race. However, I do believe that anyone soliciting donations by saying they will do a marathon should make a good faith effort to do all that they can to follow through with the race.

In my next post, I'll discuss fundraising for local versus destination events. Should runners for Team in Training and other charities only do local events to minimize the amount of donations that go to send them to the race? Or is it possible that LLS gets more money for its mission when people choose a far away and adventuresome "destination event?"

Nine (Plus Two)

2012-01-29T06:49:00.005-05:00

It's been a pretty good training week, capped off by nine miles (or maybe eleven) yesterday. I got some running in four days this week, plus walking most days at lunch of anywhere from two to nearly four miles.

Tuesday, I got together with my running pal, Lelia, after work. We probably got in about five miles together - most of it walking, but with some running. It was great to see her, and catch up on things in our lives after a break of several months. We will try to make that a regular Tuesday after work deal.

Wednesday, I only had time for two miles, but I upped my run interval by 10 seconds, and took 10 seconds off my walk interval. They are now at 1:55 and 1:20 respectively.

Thursday, I got in four miles after work (plus nearly four walking at lunch). I'd hoped to five+ at night, but a portion of my route was on trails, and it just got too dark. Even my first lap was dark enough that I could not see where on the sometimes rough trail my feet were. So four miles, using my new intervals, had to do.

Which brings me to yesterday's training. I planned on adding a mile to last weekend's eight miles, and joined up with Team in Training. They had routes for eight, 11 and 14 miles, so I picked eight. I ran with Sheri, who is the Executive Director of the Virginia LLS Chapter. She is an eight year cancer survivor, and we chatted about our experiences and life in general as we ran. She is actually fundraising for TNT this spring, and will run the Shamrock Half Marathon - same as me. She is a stronger runner. I decided to ignore my intervals and just try to keep up. After two miles of running, my legs were shot, so I went to mixing in walking. Sheri would walk when I did, and run when I would be ready for more of that. I would guess we ran about six of the eight miles. Back at the lake, we said goodbye, and I added two laps around the lake using my new intervals to get to the nine mile point. Then, I started stretching.

It was at that point that I realized that my running gloves were gone. I had dropped them somewhere along our eight mile route. I was pretty sure that it was in the last mile, because I had gotten chilled and decided to put my jacket back on. My gloves had been hooked over my water belt, which I removed to get to my jacket. I surely dropped them at that point. I decided to trace my steps at a walk, and I did - back up Boulevard, down Idlewild, up Sheppard to Grove. There was not a sign of them. Realizing that I could have lost them further back, I gave up at that point, and walked the mile back to my car. I had just added nearly two miles of walking to my day, giving me about 11 miles on my feet. I have another pair of gloves to us (or lose), but I really liked the ones had had just lost. They were "glittens" - gloves that converted to mittens on a really cold day. Ah well - hopefully someone who needs a pair of gloves finds them.

Cold Weather Running

2012-01-22T21:02:00.004-05:00

I'll take a little break from my discussions about why Team in Training is not a scam to talk about training. The Shamrock Half Marathon is just eight weeks from today, and I need to step it up a bit. I have been doing some running this week, but no more than 2-4 miles at a time. Thursday, I only did a mile, but it was speed drills in which I ran treadmill intervals as a pace of seven minute miles - a very fast pace for me.

I considered going out with TNT yesterday, but there was some freezing rain and since I am not on the team, I would not get a cancellation email or call. So while they probably ran Saturday morning, I didn't want to drive all the way to Byrd Park and find that no one else was there. So I took it easy yesterday, which was not difficult, since there was a cold and steady rain much of the day. Yeah, I wimped out.

Today, although it was still cold and drizzly, I decided that I had to get in some running. I don't really like running in the cold, although compared with up north, it is not so cold here. I tend to get soaked with sweat from my body while my hands, ears, nose, and face get cold. My nose runs like crazy. But today, I decided that I would train a minimum of five miles and a maximum of eight. As things turned out, I covered eight miles, running about 65% of it and walking about 35%. I am no speedster, but I feel like at least my run interval is improving and I stuck with it almost every time today - not cheating on my run intervals and lapsing to more walking as I have done several times recently. After doing hardly any running for the last 18 months, I still have a long way to go. Eight miles (twice now) is my longest distance, and that is a long way to go from a half marathon. I would like to start increasing my run interval by about 5-10 seconds a week, and starting adding about a mile a week to get up to 12 or 13 miles over the next six weeks. That would give me one week or possibly two to reduce mileage for a given week, and then it would give me a two week taper. My thinking is that if I do 12 or 13 miles two weeks before the race, I'd cut back to about six or seven the weekend before.

Right now, I am not on pace for a PR. It might be doable, but I will have to remain injury free and train consistently to have any hope of that. But my plantar fasciitis pain is 90 to 95% better, and I am coming up on 10 years of surviving Hodgkin's lymphoma. So PR or not, just to do this race works for me.

Do TNT Participants Even Care About Doing Their Race?

2012-01-21T06:37:00.005-05:00

A lot of comments out on running blogs state that TNT participants are not dedicated to doing their races. According to these folks, in the events, the purple people usually just coast and cut the course or even just take a bus near the end. Most of them, so the tale goes, don't have the physical conditioning or grit to do what they told people they would do when they asked for donations to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. This is all part of this ridiculous myth that Team in Training is a scam.

In one such post, labeled "Team in Training Does it Again!" the author stated that his wife was in the 2007 San Diego Marathon and saw a bus pull up at mile 22 or 23, and at least 20 TNT folks got out to finish the last few miles to get their medals. This started a whole diatribe from all kinds of other people about what a scam TNT is. How lazy we are. Calling participants fat asses and "tubbies." One guy said that the "majority don't even do 26.2, just collect the pledge money and allow corporate suits to drive Lexus's." Others said if we do do the race, we cut the course.

So is this true? Do the majority of us, or even many of us, do the absolute minimum? Do we take a bus to the end? Do any of us do this? While I am willing to believe this happens, I think it is very rare. I have never seen it - ever. In fact, I have seen the opposite, and not just with TNT. Anyone doing a marathon, century ride, or triathlon - wearing purple or not - has a lot of grit and determination.

Let's talk about the bus in the 2007 San Diego Marathon. If the guy's wife says she saw this, then I am willing to believe she did. After doing some checking, things like this are entirely up to the race management, not TNT, which has no involvement in it. Some races will pick up the stragglers who don't reach a certain point in time and shuttle them off the course. Others might give them a ride to a few miles from the finish line. Each race will use its own discretion about it, and it might even change from year to year. I did this same event one year earlier, in 2006. Our coaches stressed to us during our training about the cut off points that we had to hit, or we would be taken off the course by a sweep van. If we had passed the 13.1 mile point by the cutoff but couldn't finish, we would be given a half marathon medal. In the Arizona Marathon, there was a race course volunteer carrying a balloon. She told us that anyone behind her by a certain mile point would be removed from the course.

The TNT runners and walkers I have known and seen are very dedicated to completing their event. I saw a woman in the Anchorage Marathon who somehow finished despite blowing out a knee. We had to carry her on to bus at the end to go back to the hotel. One of my mentees in 2007 doing the Anchorage Marathon refused to switch to the half even though she had needed surgery and had barely been able to train for the last two month. She was young and strong, and knew that she would somehow finish it, and she did. That same year, another of my mentees walked the San Diego Marathon - the one with the bus incident. She was 62, and 9 months past abdominal cancer. She walked the whole thing and was very proud to finish.

What about cutting the course? I've been in two events - San Diego in 2006 and Nashville in 2009 - where a certain part of the course would have made it simple to cut the course and save miles. I have never seen any participant do this - never! Our coaches do, all the time, but they are not official participants. They have no race bib, no timing chip, and get no medals. Their job is to cover the race course, back and forth, making sure people are doing alright and helping anyone who needs assistance. A typical TNT coach will cover 30-32 miles on race day, and they do cut the courses to get between participants faster and more efficiently. Maybe people see them in their purple shirts and assume that they are cheating?

Speaking for myself, I have always considered doing all I can to finish the event a solemn pact between myself and the people that donated through me. They are doing the heavy lifting and the important task - giving money freely to support the mission of LLS - and in return, I've agreed to do a foot race. I believe that most participants - the vast majority actually - feel the same way and take the race very seriously, and are proud to achieve finishing a long distance event. Speaking for myself, if I were in a race and got injured and was bussed near the end so I could still finish, I would not cross the finish line. I want to do the whole thing under my own power.

So are we of Team in Training slackers who do the minimum, coast on race day, cut the course, and lallygag along so we can catch the bus? I say absolutely not in 99.9% of the cases. If someone out there is going to judge us all by the actions of the other 0.1%, then there is not anything I can do about that. But I will continue to do my best to dispel that myth by doing the right thing on race day.

Do TNT Participants Care About the Mission?

2012-01-20T05:44:00.002-05:00

I've seen some claims that TNT participants don't care about the mission but are just trying to get a free trip. For example, there was this: "People sign up for groups like TNT because they think it looks cool, and they don't actually give a flip about the cause." Or this: they "do the absolute minimum to get by and then take an all expense paid trip paid for by charitable contributions."

Like anything else, there are no absolutes. Somewhere, is there someone doing TNT who has no interest at all in the mission? Somewhere, is there someone doing TNT who coasts while just taking a trip? Is there one such person out of the 40,000 or so who do Team in Training? I'm sure there is. My point is, they are the exception not the rule.

People doing TNT tend to have some interest or connection to the mission. They might be a survivor themselves - that is what got me interested. Or they might have a friend or family member who is a survivor or even died from a blood cancer. Or they might just have a casual interest in raising money for a good cause, even if there is not a direct connection. The latter group usually gets additional interest in the mission during the process of doing TNT, but even this group came in with some interest. I think the most passionate TNTer I have ever met, Coach Chuck, would have been in this last group. Once they learn more about the mission and what these awful cancers do to people, they get very interested.

Now, about doing the absolute minimum to get by, for an all expense paid trip - well, first, it is not all expenses paid. Significant but not all by a long shot. I'll be discussing this aspect of TNT in detail later. I've seen people put an incredible amount of effort into TNT. Frankly, if you are going to raise $2,000 - $5,000 and train for a marathon, half-marathon, century ride, or triathlon it is a lot of work. A lot of folks bust their butt in the process. I've seen people do it with a moderate amount of effort. I have never seen anyone do the minimum to get by who completes the program or comes close. Anyone like that is going to end up dropping out after a month or two. You cannot do TNT successfully and complete it with a minimum effort - you just can't.

Does TNT Fill Up Races Months Ahead of Time?

2012-01-19T05:46:00.004-05:00

Wow, where do people come up with this stuff? I mean, seriously, where do they get these ideas and then talk about them as if they are the truth, getting others to buy in? So, out on a running board was this comment: "TNT people are what probably forced the Chicago Marathon to fill - screwing people who didn't enter in time so these fat asses get bussed to the 20 mile mark." And this comment: "They end up selling out races five months in advance even though many are unfit and can't complete training and many drop out cause they can't hit fundraising targets." I not only call BS on this one: I call double BS!

There is one event - the Nike Women's Marathon and Half-Marathon in San Francisco - that Team in Training might limit other racers in. This race is a major fundraiser for TNT, and last year, about 18% of the finishers were in the purple. But selling out the Chicago Marathon? Really??? That race does sell out, and it allows 40,000 entrants. In 2011, 426 of these participants were with Team in Training, raising $900,000 for blood cancer research and patient support and advocacy. There is simply no way that slots reserved for TNT sold this race, or others with the possible exception of Nike, out. Big races are popular and you have to enter early. That is just the way it is. Even the Boston Marathon, with its strict time requirements, has more qualified people wanting to run it than it has spots for.

Here's another one: the Shamrock Marathon and Half Marathon. The half sold out several weeks ago. I signed up a couple of weeks before. Yeah, I would rather have not put that $100 on my credit card just before Christmas, but it was either that or not run it. Everyone knows that this race fills up early. There are a total of 150 TNT people in these two races, which allow 7,000 for the half-marathon and 4,000 for the marathon. Most of the 150 TNTers are in the half marathon. So is someone who waited until January to sign up and got frozen out going to blame one of the 120 or so purple people from freezing him or her out of a race with 7,000 spots? If so, then they are just not talking sense.

Now, to the comment TNT folks taking away slots and then not completing training or dropping out for fundraising reasons, this is just not true. About 12 weeks before our race, we either drop or recommit. Until that time, LLS has not registered us for the race and we have not taken a slot. Once you recommit, you are going, even if you fill the minimum fundraising yourself. Even if you get injured after that point, you will still go, and yes, you would take a race spot as of that point. I have rarely seen it happen that somone is hurt too badly to not do the race. If you get an injury once you've signed up, you will take care of it and do everything you can to still do the race, even if you have to slow down. Someone who cannot complete the training will usually realize it before the recommitment point and drop well before they take up a race entry. I'll be discussing fundraising minimums and recommittment in a later post.

Well, so ends my latest post refuting these ridiculous claims that Team in Training is some kind of scam. No, 464 TNT runners and walkers didn't force the 40,000 slot Chicago marathon to fill up and screw all the "more deserving" runners who had not entered in time. Races are getting popular, and most races do a pretty good job of letting you know when they fill. If you don't enter in time - don't blame Team in Training as a convenient scapegoat.

Discussing Cults and TNT

2012-01-15T06:36:00.007-05:00

In some of the message boards claiming what a scam TNT is (which I am refuting), there are sometimes comments about us being a cult. I already wrote a tongue-in-cheek piece about TNT as a cult, but wanted to come back to this in a more serious vein.

Here is one comment I read that kind of suggests the writer's view of us as a rude cult: "During races if you pass a TNT cheer squad and you are not in purple, you will not be cheered - just silence." And here is another: "I can't tell you how many times I've seen some purple clad a__hole cut in front of others in expos saying 'she is running for charity, the rest are just running for themselves.'" Other people simply write: 'It's a cult!"

Here is the best definition of cult to this situation: "A group or sect bound together by veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc." Switch the word veneration to dedication or interest and that might describe it, but that changes the definition to something other than a cult. I don't consider us a cult any more than I do the Hash House Harriers (a drinking group with a running problem), the local Saturday morning marathon team, or the ladies sewing circle.

I am no sociologist, but it seems like from our earliest days, we have wanted to form groups. It is part of our nature. We are a social animal. You cannot have social bonds with one million other people. So we join groups with common interests. We form teams. We root for a certain sports team together. We join clubs. We have a circle of friends, and some have a larger circle of Facebook Friends. We go out and find Meetup groups that we are interested in. This happens all of the time. It is not peculiar to Team in Training, although some of the same ideas are at work. Join together for a cause that is bigger than you - to cure blood cancers. Run and have fun while doing a good thing. Get in better shape, make new friends. I don't see that as cultish - I see it as normal human behavior: to join up with people with the same interests.

I do want to address the two specific comments about the rude behavior. Regarding the cheer teams, I don't doubt that has happened sometime. I have not seen it. I have voluneered three or four times for cheer squads for TNT, and in every case, our written instructions tell us to cheer for everyone, not just TNT runners or cyclists. I joined several teammates after we ran the Country Music Half Marathon in 2009 to cheer the marathoners for several hours, and we cheered and encouraged every single runner and walker who passed by. And two years ago, I joined several friends to cheer the Shamrockers. Yeah, we went there specifically to cheer for our TNT comrades and would not have been there were it not for them, but once we got there, we cheered everyone who passed by. Did we cheer a little louder if we saw someone we know? Sure? Wouldn't you? But we cheered for the whole field.

Regarding the comment about the rude and dismissive line-cutters at the Expo, I have never once seen that, let alone multiple times. I see people who are happy, cheerful, and excited, but never rude like that or putting others down by pretending to be better. I just haven't seen it, not from a Team in Training person or from anyone else. I can't say it didn't happen, but I also can't see how it is common like the person that made the comment suggests.

So, is Team in Training a cult? If you think so, then so is every other group or club. Everyone wants to belong to something, and most people - especially as they get older - want to accomplish something good. With Team in Training, you can do both at the same time. It is not a cult, but it does strike that very human need.

Do Slow Runners Have the Right to Do a Marathon?

2012-01-13T06:19:00.005-05:00

In the course of reading disparaging, and in my view, false, comments about Team in Training being a scam, I found plenty of negative comments about slow runners. For the most part, these were directed towards Team in Training participants specifically, as well as some about slow runners in general. Themes included: slow runners and walkers get in the way of real runners, they cheapen the experience for real runners, they are tubby, they gum up the works for everyone else, any one who takes five, six, seven, or even eight hours to complete a marathon does not deserve the medal... Need I go on?

Well despite my claim that I will set a world record marathon some day, I am one of those terrible and unworthy slow runners. Even more egregious, I do a good bit of walking along the way. So I feel obligated to make some comments about people's intolerance and superiority complex, which I feel is held by a relatively small set of runners - but too many of them, judging from all the runners' board comments.

Let me start with the obvious. Unless you can turn in a 2:30 marathon, or maybe 2:45 if you are female, I don't think you have the right to criticize someone else for being slow. Slowness is relative. I have a great admiration for people who can complete a marathon in three or four hours, but not if they dump all over others who cannot. Then I just think of them as being conceited and arrogant. Sure, I wouldn't be able to keep up with them in a run, but I wouldn't want to run with them anyway.

I particularly love the many comments about all the slow runners and TNT runners clogging the race course and ruining the experience for the real runners. We all get assigned a corral based on our likely finishing time. The faster you are, the closer to the front of the start of the race you are. Hey, fast runner, why did you decide to run in the rearward corrals with all of us slow runners who clog the race? That wasn't so bright, was it? Or maybe this is it - maybe all of us slow runners run our ass off until we can get in front of you, then we slow down to clog up the race course and make your life miserable. Come on, man!!!! We slow runners clog the race for you? Really???

Now as far as calling people tubby and criticizing them for being out in a race, unless your body mass index is 22, what gives you the right to call someone else tubby? First of all, a person's weight is their business. Second, in some ways, they have more guts and grit than the 3 hour lean marathoner. Try carrying an extra 40 pounds and not only running a long race, but going non-stop for seven or eight hours. I wouldn't want to do that. I also resent the many implications I saw talking about the "TNT tubbies," as if most Team in Training people are fat, lazy slobs who didn't care about their fitness level or the race. It's ridiculous.

Races can always weed out slower runners by setting a time limit. So, suppose a big city put on a marathon with a 3.5 hour time limit? It sure wouldn't be a big field, would it, maybe a few thousand people. How much do you think the fee would be? How many spectators would be out there cheering for you? Do you think that the thousands of spectators that line a typical marathon course came out just to see you? If so, you are well beyond being conceited. Hell no, they come out to cheer their daughter, their husband, their Aunt Martha, their dad, their wife. Along the way, they cheer for others, including you. So be glad that their slow Uncle Willie is huffing and puffing along five miles behind you, because otherwise there would be hardly anyone there cheering for you.

People participate in marathons for all kinds of reasons. For a very elite few, it is to win first place. Compared to them, all of the rest of us are slow. So for the rest of us, the slowest runners and walkers included, we are not going to win the race. But within ourselves and what we are capable of, we are going to achieve a victory all the same. If it makes you feel more secure to criticize those who are slower than you and consider them as unworthy to be in the race, go ahead. We'll be too far behind you to hear you, and all we care about is finishing the race and crossing that finish line within our own capabilities. Maybe we will even set a personal record. Yeah, it might be slower than the best you can do, but that is why it is called a "PR."

Discussing Race Etiquette

2012-01-11T21:33:00.002-05:00

Okay, let's talk some racing etiquette points! In my last post, I tried to refute the claims I've seen that we supposedly rude and slow Team in Training runners (or TNT Tubbies as I saw us referred to all too often in running bulletin boards) were just ruining the race experience for real runners. I refute this, but have to agree that all runners - fast and slow, TNT and non-TNT - need to be aware of their behavior and etiquette on the marathon course.

I've been in five long distance races and about eight 10Ks - so I have some experience but not a ton. Even so, I've seen some of the things people complain about - too many runners and walkers abreast, people stopping on the course, people weaving in and out, runners carelessly tossing a half full cup of Gator Aide behind them without looking. I have seen Team in Training people do some of these things, and I have seen plenty of others not wearing the purple doing them. In my experience, a minority of runners use poor etiquette, but it does happen. To blame it all or even most of it on Team in Training is ridiculous, though.

So, here are my thoughts on proper race etiquette. For the record, I switch between running and walking, so am continually passing people and being passed - often the same ones again and again. I also usually carry a camera and take lots of photos. If you are a TNT participant or are running for any charity, it is especially important to use good judgement and race behavior, since apparently a lot of folks are judging us by the actions of a few.

1. Don't run more than 2 or three abreast, and if you even have that many, keep off to the side.
2. If you have to stop for whatever reason, move off the course.
3. Start in a corral that matches your realistic time of finishing the race. I am slow, but I routinely pass people in races that started eight or ten corrals ahead of me.
4. Be considerate at water stops. No one needs a cup full of sports drink or water tossed on them.
5. If the race course is crowded and you are running with others, leave a little space between you so faster runners can pass between.
6. If someone is struggling or needs help, take a second to see if they are OK and offer them some encouragement. Unless you are trying to qualify for Boston, a few seconds isn't going to cost you anything.

Now as a Team in Training participant five times, I guarantee you that our coaches emphasize all of these things - over and over. And I believe this is not unique to just our Virginia TNT coaches. So I am not buying that most TNTers are inconsiderate jerks as some of the people posting in the running bulletin boards seem to think - in fact, I've seen very few who are jerks. Let's just all be aware of others out on the race course. Frankly, any race with 30,000 or 40,000 participants is going to have a few bad apples, and will also by its nature have some congestion. So it is even more important to use good etiquette in really crowded races.

Does TNT Ruin the Race Experience for Everyone Else?

2012-01-10T19:50:00.004-05:00

As part of my series of posts refuting that Team in Training is a scam, I just have to discuss the charges I saw a number of times on running and triathlon blogs saying that TNT essentially ruins everyone else's experience. While I am calling BS on this one, I do agree that every runner and triathlete - whether wearing a purple singlet or not - should be aware of race etiquette and practice good sportsmanship.

Here are a few of the comments that I read, paraphrased to some extent: "I'm sick of dealing with throngs of TNTers every time I try to do a major race." "Inexperienced runners get in the way and gum up the works." "Charity runners attempt to equate themselves with much better runners. It is deceitful, disingenuous, and hurts the sport." "They are not courteous on the race course. They and their coaches tend to think that everyone in purple are the only ones who matter. They cut people off and stop in front of you." "No one likes TNT when five purple shirts are lined up across the entire road." I also saw a number of negative comments about slow runners, and very disparaging remarks about TNT "Tubbies."

Wow, where to start? Well, how about the comment about being sick of throngs of TNTers in every major race? This makes no sense. From what I can tell, the only races with throngs of TNTers is the Nike Women Marathon / Half Marathon (something like 18% of participants are with TNT), and perhaps the San Diego Marathon. Most races just don't have that many Team in Training participants - it is simply too difficult to do the fundraising. For example, the Country Music races when I participated in 2009 had 650 participants from TNT out of something like 35,000 participants. That's less than 2%. Here are a few more figures from various races last year: Marine Corps Marathon: 358 (of 30,000); Shamrock Marathon and Half Marathon: 160 (of (11,000); Dublin Marathon: 135 (of 11,245); Honolulu Marathon: 149 (of 25,000); RNR Savannah: 523 (of about 23,000). So throngs of TNT runners ruining the race experience for everyone else? Once again, I call BS!

The comments about inexperienced and slow runners, not just TNT, gumming the works also do not make a lot of sense. These runners and walkers will be in the later corrals. The only people they might interfere with would be other slow runners. Anyone with any speed will be well ahead of them. Of course, we've all seen runners who think they are fast enough for an earlier corral and are not. But that seems universal at all races I have been in. I pass plenty of people in the races I have done who started well ahead of me, and I am no speed demon - trust me.

I've never talked to a charity runner who equates themselves with the top runners. I have no idea why anyone would make such a comment. If you feel that way, please email me or leave a blog comment, because I just don't get that one.

The comments about inconsiderate runners might fit a lot of people on the race course. I've certainly seen a few from TNT who are not paying attention during the race, who run or walk too many abreast, who cut in front of people, who stop suddenly. I've seen plenty of others not in purple do the same thing. I think this behavior is not universal, and not even that common - our coaches at TNT stress race etiquette during our training, whether or not we choose to follow it - but anyone doing a race needs to be cognizant of their impact on others. Race etiquette is an important enough topic that I plan a separate post.

TNT coaches certainly give higher interest to TNT participants than general runners. That is why they are there. But I think most coaches will give encouragement and aid to any runner who needs it. Maybe it is not as common as it should be. Coaches reading this - read and heed, and give some thought to making a good impression on the race course. I have seen TNT coaches go above and beyond - I saw one coach in Nashville escorting an exhausted (non-TNT) participant all the way to the finish for the last half mile.

The negative comments about slow runners and "tubbies" are offensive enough that I will write a dedicated post.

I'll welcome any comments about this topic, as long as they are constructive and factual.

Does TNT Drive up the Cost of Races for Everyone Else?

2012-01-08T16:18:00.004-05:00

This is the first of my detailed posts addressing charges that Team in Training is a scam, which I very much dispute.

The charge that I have seen in a number of running bulletin boards is that TNT is responsible for driving up the cost of race entry fees (and hotels in the city of the race) because courses are kept open 5, 6, 7, or even 8 hours for slower runners. Frankly, I call this ridiculous! And here is why.

First, any race has both fixed costs and variable costs. The variable costs are what will go up with each runner - the cost of your medal, official shirt, snacks, timing chip, and so forth. The fixed costs will stay about the same whether or not there are 1,000 runners in the race or 30,000. There are certain expenses that the organization sponsoring the race will have to cover, period. I don't know how much of each race fee, say $150 for the Chicago Marathon, covers the variable costs as opposed to the fixed costs, but with at least 35,000 runners, that fee will bring in $5,250,000 for Chicago. Lets assume that 75% of that amount is variable costs and 25% of the costs are fixed. So given that assumption, the fixed costs - which must be covered equally by the number of participants - would be about $1,300,000.

In 2011, there were 35,755 finishers in the Chicago Marathon. If they wanted to impose a strict time limit to avoid the cost of keeping the race course open for longer times, they could do this by imposing a 4.5 hour limit. 15,734 runners in Chicago beat this time, so let's call it 20,000 runners to be allowed, proving a 4.5 hour time limit. That 1.3 million dollar fixed cost, which could be shared by 35,000 runners (about $36 each) would now have to be covered by 20,000 runners ($65 each). So everyone's fee would go up by $29. There might be perfectly good reasons for limiting registrations based on time (Boston is quite successful), but reducing the fee because race courses are not kept open as long is not one of them.

Here is a second piece of evidence. The fee for the Nike Women's Marathon is $135 for the full marathon ($115 for the half). This race is an official sponsor of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and has very heavy Team in Training presence - out of 20,907 finishers, 3,728 (18%) were from TNT. I could not find numbers of TNT runners for the Chicago Marathon, but it is certainly much lower. Do you remember the movie "The Spirit of the Marathon?" How many purple shirts in the Chicago field did you see during the course of the movie? I remember about a half dozen, although I would guess that several hundred participants of the 35,000 in Chicago run for TNT. The marathon fee is $150, slightly higher - not lower - than that of Nike's.

Incidentally, the Boston Marathon has a fee of $130. The marathon has fast times to qualify. A small amount of charity runners participate, and they pay an extra fee to do so - plus they do fundraising.

So how is TNT driving up the race entry costs for everyone? In a word, it's not - that charge just makes no sense.

It also is illogical that TNT is driving up the cost of hotels. A marathon weekend is a huge deal for a city, and hotels and restaurants are going to be full. When demand is up, costs go up. It is possible that LLS can get a lower group rate by guaranteeing several hundred rooms at a hotel, but how is that any different from any other group - such as a convention? It's not.

If anyone out there has empirical data that shows how TNT is increasing the costs of race entry fees, please share it. Until I see proof, I'm calling BS on this one.

Team in Training is Not a Scam

2012-01-08T06:42:00.015-05:00

I've been amazed about all of the comments I've read about Team in Training on various athletic message boards, including many that TNT is a scam. We've been slammed by a lot of people for all kinds of things. Some of these things undoubtedly have happened, although I am convinced they are not the norm. Other things clearly make no sense. Still others need some analysis and evaluation. So that is what I've decided to do in a series of blog posts over the next couple of weeks about these charges and issues.

Full disclosure: I've done TNT five times, all on foot - two walking marathons, one mostly walking marathon with some running, and two half-marathons where I ran about 70% of the time. I've volunteered as a TNT mentor several times. I've done other volunteer work for LLS: manning a booth at running expos, making phone calls to tell people about TNT information meetings, volunteering for First Connection, and cheering at races. I've never been paid a dime. I did get some of my travel expenses paid for the five events that I did for TNT. I'll discuss this in detail in a later post. But clearly, I believe in LLS and its mission, and in its major fundraising program, Team in Training.

After reading lots of message posts, here are the major complaints that people seem to make about Team in Training. Each of these will eventually become a separate blog post, and after I write the post, I will change the text here to a link to that post.

1. TNT drives up the costs of race entries and hotels for everyone else. I think this is totally untrue, and illogical.

2. TNT prevents more deserving runners from entering the race because they fill the races up five months early. This is another charge that makes no sense to me.

3. TNT ruins the experience for real runners and triathletes. I think this is bogus, but agree that TNT participants - and everyone else - need to be aware of race etiquette. There also seems to be a lot of resentment among "real runners" that "slow runners" participate in races.

4. TNT is a cult, and disdainful of other athletes. I previously wrote a tongue in cheek post about TNT not being a cult. To a non-runner, any group of runners may appear cultish.

5. TNT participants don't care about the mission but are just trying to get a free trip. This does not match my observations at all.

6. TNT participants are not dedicated to doing the race. In the events, they usually just coast and even cut the course or even just take a bus near the end. Sorry - not from what I have seen. Not at all.

7. The fundraising scams people - most of it goes to the trip and LLS overhead, and the runners don't follow-through. This is not true at all.

8. The fundraising would be okay if they did local races and not the destination events. Although this is not a bad concept, I will show how LLS can get more money for its mission when people choose the destination events.

9. The fundraising is not efficient. There are many ways for charities to raise money. Many of them are very annoying to the potential donors. I think that TNT is fairly efficient, and no where near as annoying as getting unsolicited calls at dinner time.

10. The fundraising is dishonest, or at the least misleading. I read some misplaced and some thoughtful criticisms of TNT participants in this area, and will discuss these along with my own thinking.

11. TNT participants are mostly tubby people who are not serious about running, are sold a bill of goods, and have no business being out there. They cheapen the marathon experience. Definitely, I can't wait to address this one!

12. A lot of potential participants are not comfortable doing the fundraising, and when they do, they get pressure from LLS staff to keep raising money. This is one that I think needs some analysis and discussion.

Leaden Legs

2012-01-07T18:22:00.003-05:00

For the second week in a row, I joined Team in Training today for some miles. I ran with my friend and fellow blood cancer survivor (15 years) Nicki. We are both going to run the Shamrock Half Marathon on March 18. The difference is that Nicki is fundraising for TNT and I am just running the race as a 10 year survivor. The other difference is that I was born like just after the Civil War and Nicki wasn't.

Unfortunately, this was my first time running since last Saturday, and I felt it. I did get in several decent walks during the week, and two sessions with water aerobics, but that is not the same thing. We did the hilly Riverside Drive route, running eight miles with a fair amount of walking, especially during the second half. I love that route, but my legs started feeling like they were made of lead. Nicki said she was also feeling it. So we did a fair amount of walking at times, and slowed our running pace. But even so, we did it. A lot of people never left the sofa today. I'll take eight slow and sore miles over sitting on the sofa clicking the TV remote.

Tomorrow, I plan on starting my series of posts about why Team in Training is not a scam.

Team in Training, A Cult? Really????

2012-01-05T05:22:00.011-05:00

My friend Joe came over the other night, and cut right to the chase. "Holy crap, Art! You didn't tell me that you are involved in a cult!"

"A cult? Maybe I've taken stupid pills lately, but I have no earthly idea what you are talking about, Joe."

"Team in Training!"

I was incredulous. "Team in Training is a cult? Really?"

"Yeah, at least that is what I read on some of the running boards. Someone was asking about Team in Training. One guy wrote 'It's kind of cultish.' Another wrote 'It's a cult.' And a bunch of people wrote about what a scam it it."

"A cult? A scam? Really????"

"Well, yeah, that's what these guys say. Like on the race course, you guys chant strange things, like 'Go Team' over and over."

"Wow, Joe. Sounds like our cover is blown. Did anyone mention about our monthly ritual? The one where we dance naked at midnight in the woods on the night of a full moon, wearing only a purple headband? While we pay homage in Elvish runes to the Wicked Witch of the West while one of us slowly beats a drum made with the taut, tanned skin of a kinkajou? When we slaughter a young goat and smear its blood all over our bodies? And then - men and women together - we run naked and bloody all through the streets of Richmond while chanting unintelligible things?"

"No one mentioned any of that," Joe said, backing slowly away.

"That's because we are not a cult, Joe. We are just a bunch of people, like any one else, who like running and walking and cycling and swimming together while trying to raise money that will fight cancer. That's it. We are no more a cult than any other group of runners out together on a Saturday morning. Hey, Joe - want some coolaide? My friend, Jim Jones, mixed it up."

"Uh, no thanks, Art. Well speaking of fundraising, are you guys scamming people? One guy wrote this: 'The majority don't even do 26.2, just collect the pledge money and allow corporate suits to drive Lexus's.'

"Nope - we are not scamming people, Joe. Whoever made that comment has no idea what he is talking about. None whatsoever."

"Well, some people said you guys lie during fundraising, and put a lot of pressure on people."

"Yeah, Joe, that's right. I usually tell people to donate to LLS through me, or a puppy will die!"

"You're kidding, right? Well, it sounds like you guys don't really take what you are doing seriously. How about this comment that I saw: 'They do the absolute minimum to get by and then take an all expense paid trip paid for by charitable contributions?' Is that true?"

I was astonished. "That doesn't sound like Team in Training either, Joe. Everyone I know works their butt off, finishes their event, and is proud to do it. As to the expenses, yes, we get some of the trip expenses paid - a significant portion, actually - but it is not all expenses paid fancy resort vacation. I can see I am going to have to discuss this in a lot more detail on my blog."

"Well," said Joe, "I'll look forward to seeing more explanations refuting some of this stuff. Some runners out there hate you guys, and seem to think you ruin the race for everyone else, and are scams and cheats. Why, one guy even said 'Truck TNT!' Except, it wasn't 'truck' but a similar sounding word with one less letter and a first letter between E and G, exclusive, as I recall."

"Joe, all I can say is that there must a be a lot of misguided people out there. And there are always naysayers that want to crap all over everyone else. I'll read up on some of these comments, and then blog about it," I said.

"Good deal," said Joe. "Now, I don't want any of that coolaide, but I'd love an ice-cold beer if you have one."

"You know I do! Say, do you know if the moon is full tonight, Joe? And do you happen to have a goat?"

Making 2012 Special

2012-01-01T07:58:00.006-05:00

I want to make 2012 a little special. After all, it is my 10 year mark of surviving cancer - Hodgkin's lymphoma - which was detected late in April of 2002. In a flash, I went from a seemingly healthy person to someone in the fight of their life.

I am trying to stay away from resolutions. I did horribly with the goals I set a year ago. 2011 was not a good year, especially with the death of a good friend and of my sister. Foot problems almost all the year caused difficulty with physical activities. But now, a new year is here! Huzzah!

So here are some of the things I am thinking about to make 2012 special from a Racing for a Cure standpoint. Some are pretty mundane, others more spectacular. If you want to see some of the places I would like to hike in 2012, go here.

I'll be running in the Shamrock Half Marathon on March 18. It is my statement that I am strong and healthy ten years after cancer. I am going to go for a personal record but have a very long way to go in a short time. Mainly, I just want to celebrate life and remember those lost. I'll also be attending the Team in Training Inspiration Dinner the night before for a little extra motivation.

Yesterday, I signed up for the Monument Avenue 10K here in Richmond. That is two weeks after the Shamrock Half. It will be my eighth straight time in this event. I am going for a PR in that one as well. I'd love to break an hour. That is slow to you fast runners but would be fast for me.

So barring injury, those two are definite. After all, I've shelled out $126 hard-earned bucks when I signed up! But what about some yet-to-fully-gel possibilities? Well, I would like to do TNT again. I have fundraised from the same group of people now six out of the past seven years, so the well may be a little dry. But I think it is worth another try, and maybe skip fundraising in 2013. Where and when could I run? I am thinking in the fall, perhaps San Francisco, the Marine Corps Marathon, or even Dublin, Ireland.

Some time back, I was thinking this would be the year to do a triathon or a century bike ride, but I don't think so now. I have done nothing to get ready, including getting a bike. I am not sure that is where my interests lie.

I'd like to run the Livestrong 10K in Virginia Beach again. Maybe I can finish first in my age group this time!

Under the realm of the more far out, I have been recently thinking that this would be a cool year to form a relay team, and do one of those 48 hour relay events. I would need 11 other people, and there would be some costs involved, like renting a couple of vans. But it would be an incredible experience. I'd love to form a team of 100% cancer survivors, but am not sure I know 11 other survivors who run or power walk. Yesterday when I was thinking about it, I could come up with about 6-7 names, including yours truly. Need to give this some more thought ....

Now, the crown jewel of 2012, if I can make it happen, would be to run the Honolulu Marathon on December 9, my 10 year cancer remission date. I've had my eye on that date and that event for years. But a trip to Hawaii is a major expense, one I am not prepared for at this time. Still, sometimes where there is a will, there's a way, and it would be such a wonderful thing to do while visiting Hawaii for the first time ever.

So those are some of my thoughts. Does anyone reading this have some special fitness events that they would like to do?

Ending 2011 Right

2011-12-31T10:06:00.003-05:00

2011 will never be my favorite year. It began with the death of a good friend, Judy, in January from multiple myeloma. My sister Ann lost her fight with breast cancer in May. I spent much of the year with foot problems, although those pale in comparison. So I am looking forward to seeing 2011 disappear in the rear view mirror, and plan on staying up until midnight just to be sure it does go its merry way.

But I ended 2011 on a good note. Despite doing hardly any running this year, and none at all from April through September, I joined Team in Training for a seven mile run today. I did walk part of it, maybe two miles worth. I spent most of the time with Nicki and Babs, both of whom are blood cancer survivors too. It is a cool thing when three cancer survivors are all running together. Nicki is at 15 years, I am coming up on 10, and Babs is coming up on four.

It was good to see the Team out there, although it is a painfully small group - hopefully because of the holiday weekend, a lot of people weren't there. It was great to catch up with Nicki - she and I go back nearly six years together with Team in Training. And it felt great to run on a beautiful winter day that felt more like spring, with the Shamrock half-marathon less than three months away. It felt good to go more than half of that distance. Now I just have to work on speed and endurance while gradually increasing the length of my runs. Seven miles is probably the longest distance I have covered this year with running my dominant mode of locomotion.

Along the way, Nicki introduced me to a coach she has had through some of her training, Lynn. Lynn is 67 but looks and moves more like someone in their fifties. She is getting ready for one of those 48 hour relay runs. Now that is inspirational - how many 67 year-olds do you know that can do that?

Goodbye 2011. It's been a nasty year, but I ended the year on my feet and moving, and I guess that will have to be good enough for now.

What Are Your Pet Locker Room Peeves?

2011-12-26T08:38:00.003-05:00

I've found that I get really annoyed by a few things men do in locker rooms. (Maybe women do them as well, but I have never used a woman's locker room.) And I was wondering: what annoys other folks? Maybe the same things? Maybe something else?

For background, our community center has a nice little fitness center, and indoor and outdoor pools. We have very small men's and women's locker rooms to go with these. There is a row of over-and-under lockers - 24 in total. There are three small benches. There are a few hooks to hang towels and so forth. And there are two shower stalls. In such a small space, one would think that people would be very considerate of others. Think again! In order of most annoying to least (but still, very) annoying, here are my three top pet peeves in the locker room.

1. People get the benches wet. The either throw stuff on the benches that is wet, or they hang wet stuff above them to drip. It is wonderful to come back in to get dressed and all three benches are wet. There is no place to sit and stay dry as one attempts to get dressed in dry street clothing.

2. People use the benches as lockers. You come in to change and the benches are covered with people's gym bags and clothing. For good measure, they hang clothing from the hooks. If every locker were full, I could see it, but that is never the case. Hang your stuff in the lockers, people! That is why we have them. Which brings me to ...

3. People either leave a lock on the locker, or leave it full of stuff, essentially claiming one of the 24 lockers for their own. Right now, about half of our lockers are claimed for sole use by one person or another. When it reaches about 18 out of 24, I might just bring in a pair of bolt cutters!

Okay, I've had my rant. What ticks you off about people in locker rooms?

A Sobering Evening of Helping

2011-12-22T05:42:00.003-05:00

A runner friend of mind, Chelle, does a really nice thing every year a week or so before Christmas. She gathers a bunch of runners to do a five mile run on a Wednesday night, and they each bring a poinsettia. Then on the next night, she and whoever can help takes the poinsettias to a local nursing home to try to put a little Christmas cheer in the lives of some of the elderly.

I've never been able to make the run, but last week, I was free Thursday to help distribute the flowers at the Hermitage Nursing home. About six of us showed up to help distribute maybe 60 plants. We would go into rooms and just leave a plant if the resident was not there or asleep, or chat with them a bit if they were there and awake (and aware). We did the nursing home side first, then took the remaining plants to the assisted living side.

It was sobering and a little sad. I've not spent a lot of time around really elderly people. My grandfather died at 69, and my other three grandparents were long gone before I arrived. Neither of my parents made it to really old age. A lot of these people are essentially warehoused, waiting to die. Some are very mentally confused, others on medication I would guess that made them sound asleep at 6:30PM. Most of them are extemely weak. Many of them were thrilled to get the plant, and to chat a bit, even if they were a little confused about why a poinsettia was being given to them. "Who is this from again?" one elderly lady asked me for about the tenth time. "There is no one I know who would send me this beautiful thing."

Most of them were alone, having outlived a spouse. One 90 year old man I talked to was grieving for his wife of 50 years who had died. He was a World War II vet and started crying when I shook his hand and thanked him for his service. But he pulled it together and we had a long chat. Another man was 97, and still in assisted living rather than nursing care. Most of them were watching TV alone in their room, or wandering about a little confused. But some of them had gathered in a common room and were chatting together. Some told us of family in there area who visited, of grandchildren who called regularly. Others were clearly alone in the world.

I guess all of us, if we live long enough, will get there. We'll outlive a spouse. We will get too mentally feeble to understand how to take care of ourselves, or we will be too physically feeble to be able to even if we still understand what needs to be done. Maybe our kids will care, maybe they won't. These strong legs which carried us through marathons and up mountains will barely be strong enough to help us get out of a chair, and eventually, maybe not even that. When you are younger and have strength, it is hard to visualize being feeble, infirm, and confused. But I hope if that is me someday, someone will bring me a poinsettia at Christmas and have a little chat.

One Second Between Life and Death

2011-12-13T05:20:00.004-05:00

Had I left my parking garage one second sooner yesterday, a man would have died. Had this idiot cyclist been one second slower, he would have died. But he didn't. Fate, God, luck, random chance gave him a narrow escape. I wonder if he thought about it as much as I have, and used the reflections to change his ways.

I left the parking garage around 11 to go volunteer for LLS at an event. Because of a movie being filmed in town about Abraham Lincoln, traffic is messed up. Trucks are parked all over the place. Horses, oxen, and Civil War soldiers walk around. When you leave the garage, you have to turn left down a narrow alley that exists on Ninth Street. Ninth Street is one way, heading north, so you must turn left at its intersection with the alley. I stopped at the end of the alley - with buildings on each side, you must do this to make sure that no pedestrians are about to step in front of you. The sidewalks were clear, so I pulled up over the sidewalk, and stopped again to make sure no one was driving up Ninth Street. It was all clear to the right, the only direction traffic should come from. To the left, parked along Ninth Street, was a solid line of large movie trucks parked along the side of the street, totally blocking the view of the road in that direction. It was if there were an impenetrable wall there. Since no traffic would come from that direction and it was all clear to the right, I took my foot off the brake and hit the gas pedal.

At that exact instant, a cyclist appeared from behind the parked trucks just feet away and almost exactly in my space. Ninth Street is all downhill there, and he was moving at least 20 miles per hour, probably faster. With amazing reaction time, if I do say so myself, I hit the brake and stopped just in time as he zipped by. I screamed "You moron!" at him. Well, okay, I may have prefaced moron with an adjective, a rather colorful and useful one. Had I gotten there one second earlier, or had he gotten there one second later, I would have been pulling out into the street in front of him, and he would have slammed into the side of my car. At 30 or 40 feet a second, he would have either catapulted over the car and landed in the street some distance away, or he would have smashed his head or broken his neck against the side of my car.

It left me shaken as I drove away. This fool - I call him a fool because he was riding the wrong way on a street, and riding very fast - came very close to dying. I reflected on all the things that could have conspired to save his life. We arrived at the same point in space at almost exactly the same instant in time. But not quite - there was a matter of a single second's difference that saved him. If I had gotten to my car one second sooner, if I had walked just a tiny bit slower, if I had taken one more second to make sure that the mirror was adjusted right, he would be dead. Although we could argue that someone that stupid shouldn't be in the gene pool, I am glad that I am not the one who removed him from it. Really glad, actually.

Another Run, and Continued Heel Pain

2011-12-11T19:12:00.004-05:00

It has been two weeks since I did a run of more than two miles. Now that I am going to participate in the Shamrock Half Marathon in 14 weeks, I need to start running consistently. So this morning, I put on a few layers, gloves, a hat, and started running, going just over four miles. I did a run - walk combination, the same splits as last time. It seemed harder, maybe because it was cold and I had layers on instead of shorts and a tee. Or maybe, with as little running as I have done in the past year, it just is harder.

I generally stuck to my splits, but a few times, I seemed tired and out of breath, and walked a little longer. Another time, I ran a quarter mile around the track to see what my running pace is: 9:30 per mile. So I decided to do some math. My running speed of 9.5 minutes per mile means I average 9.26 feet per second. My walking speed of about 14.5 minutes per mile means I cover 6.07 feet per second walking. Given a run split of 1:05, I run 602 feet in that time, and my walk split of 1:30 means I walk 546 feet in that time. So I average 7.41 feet per second overall, which means an 11:53 overall pace per mile. That is if I strictly follow all my splits, which I didn't completely today. Today, my 4.1 miles took over 50 minutes, or a slower pace than 12 minute miles. So I have a long way to go.

The bummer is, my left heel has hurt all day. This plantar fasciitis has hung in there with a vengence for 7.5 months now, and it clearly means to bug me still. I should have iced it, but it didn't even cross my mind until this second.

Silent Mile Message

2011-12-10T05:22:00.005-05:00

The Team in Training Spring Team has formed and is having a silent mile, like the one last July, today. Unfortunately, I can't be there, but I asked Kate to read something from me. Here is what I submitted to her.

I wish I could be here today to say hello and more importantly, to say "thank you." Yesterday marked a big milestone for me, my nine year remission anniversary from Hodgkin's lymphoma. Yes, nine years ago, I was celebrating finally being done with six months of chemo, one of the hardest things I have ever been through. I was eagerly awaiting a CT Scan in a few days, which would turn up no evidence of cancer. It was a thrilling time, but also a little sobering. A couple weeks before, in the chemo room for the last time, the man next to me nearly died when they tried a tiny dose of a new kind of chemo on him. For a few minutes, doctors and nurses frantically ran around the room like ants at a picnic. "I'm sorry," the oncologist said to the man and to his daughter after they revived and stabilized him. "That new chemo clearly isn't going to work for you, and there are no other options left for you because the current treatment isn't working at all." Imagine getting that message just before Christmas or Chanukah. Here I was, getting ready to return to my regular life and hopefully feel healthy again, while at the same time, this guy three feet from me was essentially being told to get his affairs in order. He was about the same age that I am now, which still feels far too young to die.

I've tried to do a lot of living in these nine years. Nine more birthdays and wedding anniversaries. Get-togethers with family and friends. Trips to Alaska, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, and Glacier National Park. Lots of great hikes. Lazing at the beach with a cold drink. Being there when my granddaughter was born. Being a comfort to my sister Ann as she fought, and lost this spring, her four year battle with breast cancer. None of this could have happened for me without research that figured out how to effectively fight Hodgkin's lymphoma, at least most of the time.

When I had cancer, I was struck by two concepts. The first was that if I indeed survived, I owed my life to people who came years and decades before me. They were the patients who suffered horribly; they were the nurses who tended to them; they were the doctors who tried new things and made observations; they were the medical researchers and the biochemists and the geneticists who figured out what would work and not work. And they were the people who provided funding for medical research. Without their efforts, I'd be pushing up daisies - or as I like to say with the Shamrock Marathon coming up, shamrocks - right now.

The other key concept was that when I was well and healthy again, I wanted to do something to make a difference, to pay it forward, to help others. I wanted to be one of those people that cancer patients, when reflecting on their survival, would be thankful for. So another thing I have done in my nine years of earnest living has been to participate in Team in Training five times, and also, most recently, the Komen breast cancer 60 mile walk. And by virtual of your participation in Team in Training, you are also one of the people that future cancer patients - unknown to you - will thank. None of us can cure cancer by ourselves - even the greatest doctors and medical minds cannot. But just as tiny rain drops, one by one, will form a mighty river, so too are each of you helping to create a flood that will one day wash away incurable cancer. So from this cancer survivor, in absentia, thank you so very much. And - GO TEAM!

Winning the Lottery

2011-12-09T17:15:00.001-05:00

I play the lottery with 19 co-workers, and we all dream of that day when we will split a big jackpot and be done with the work-a-day world. We'll have money to help friends and family members, give to good causes, travel a bit, and live reasonably well without having to work everyday. Nice dream.

Well, you know, in a way, I hit the lottery nine years ago, big time. Bigger than any multi-million dollar jackpot. Far bigger, actually. For I won my life. Nine years ago today, I went into remission from Hodgkin's lymphoma, and as far as I know, I am still there, strong and healthy once more. I've done a lot of living in those nine years, and hope to continue to do so.

Getting chemo for the last time two weeks before, after the sheer misery of six months of it, was the most amazing feeling. Now, here I am, nine years having gone by like the blink of an eye. I am one lucky guy. I have won my health and my life back. I am a survivor.

Come back tomorrow to see my message to the team for their Silent Mile.

Another Leap of Faith

2011-12-07T05:50:00.005-05:00

Well, I'm all in! I signed up for the Shamrock Half Marathon yesterday. Now, all I have to do is finish getting over the plantar fasciitis, and start doing some serious running.

As I've written before, 2011 has been a year of minimal running, even though I did manage to get in two 10K's - the first coming off of foot surgery, the second with continuing plantar fasciitis and coming off the Komen 3-Day 60 miler. And even with the foot pain, I have done hundreds of miles of walking this year.

2012 is a big year for me - my ten year mark of surviving lymphoma. Now technically, I almost surely had cancer 10 years ago from right now. It wasn't detected until late April of 2002, but it didn't just spring up overnight. So you could say that I have already survived 10 years. Cancer survivorship is measured from diagnosis, though. That would be late May for me, because it took them a month to figure out what it was and give it a name - a specific type of Hodgkin's lymphoma. But March 18, the date of the Shamrock, is pretty close to that official 10 year point, and I wanted to make a strong statement at the start of my 10 year mark.

I was wavering. The race is 100 bucks, right at Christmas time, with my wife's birthday just two months later. Plus, I still have heel pain. Will it ever heal completely? It is a fraction, maybe 10%, of what it was in May. But how will it be after a lot of running? I was not sure I wanted to find out.

Then two nights ago, I was at an LLS function, and Kate wanted to chat. Kate is the Team in Training Coordinator. "How would you feel about doing Shamrock for us? And how would you feel emailing some local alumni and telling them that you are doing it and trying to convince them to join the team? Our recruitment is really suffering, even though the season has already started." I told Kate that it was too soon for me to fundraise, just two months after Komen, but that I had been thinking of doing the race on my own and, sure, I'll do it. I am still going to hold off on fundraising because while I could probably raise the minimum for this race, I want to do an event later for my 10 years and raise even more money. Hopefully, my note will convince some alumni to re-up once again in the battle against cancer. Maybe it will even convince you! Come on, join the team - you know you wanna! We need you!

So now, I'm all in. I have to really start running, and doing all the stuff needed to stretch and continue to get my heel to heal. Shamrock, and 10 years surviving, here I come!

Here is the note that I wrote and sent last night to over 400 TNT alumni:

Hello, Fellow TNT Alumni -I've felt for a long time that I have the luck of the Irish. Anyone who has survived cancer almost certainly feels this way. And for me, coming up on 10 years surviving Hodgkin's lymphoma this spring, I feel doubly lucky to still be on God's green earth! I could easily be pushing up shamrocks right now, but instead of pushing 'em up, I plan on running for the shamrocks! That right - my plans are to run the Shamrock Half Marathon on March 18, so close by in Virginia Beach. I've had a rough year with foot surgery in January, and then severe plantar fasciitis in the same foot in April, and I am still trying to get past that to see if my foot will hold up enough to run the race. But I am hopeful, having gotten my foot to the point of being able to walk nearly 60 miles in September for the cause of fighting breast cancer in memory of my sister Ann.

As a fellow alum of Team In Training, I am asking you to join me for the race, and fundraise for the cause of ending incurable blood cancers. I know that a lot of people associate TNT with heavy-duty fundraising, and that can happen if you are doing the West Coast or Alaska. But the Shamrock doesn't fit that category - it is a local race, and you are not going to find a sweeter deal to do an amazing TNT event for a very reasonable fundraising minimum: just $1,250 for alumni such as yourself. As alums, you already know the great fun, camaraderie, sense of accomplishment, and mission of TNT. Now, combine that with Irish stew, people decked out in green, cold beer, and Coach Bob dressed up as a leprechaun! What more can one ask for? So what do you say? Are you ready to Train, Endure, Achieve, and Matter once more?

Ten years ago from right now, I certainly had cancer growing in my body, but I had no idea. I was living my life, going to work, feeling completely healthy. Cancer would not have crossed my mind, not even as an afterthought. Just months later, I was in the fight of my life, facing all kinds of weird things and consequences that were all new to me, and quite often amazingly miserable to boot. My life has never been the same, even though I have been fully healthy for all these years now. I try to give thanks for surviving almost every day, while at the same time mourning my friend Judy, who died from myeloma last January, and my sister Ann, who died in May from breast cancer.

With a decade of surviving cancer ccoming up shortly, I want to start my celebration of living strong these last ten years by running the Shamrock Half, foot willing. I hope you will join me and Team Richmond again, to fight cancer and save lives! The team and cause need you! Sign up TODAY by calling Kate at the Richmond office (xxx) or by email at xxx. Thanks for all you have done for this cause, and I hope to see you wearing purple in Virginia Beach in March!

Go Team!
Art

A Hike Down Memory Lane

2011-12-02T20:44:00.002-05:00

Nine and a half years ago, I was preparing to start chemotherapy. The day before starting, I took a little hike to the Black Rocks in Shenandoah National Park. I knew that this would be my last hike for a long time, and even worried a bit about whether it would be my last one ever. A couple of weeks ago, while backpacking in the mountains, I returned to Black Rocks for the first time since that hike. While there, I reflected on that time so many years ago. You can read about that here.

Running Again

2011-11-27T19:52:00.005-05:00

This weather is crazy! Eight days ago, I was huddled in a heavy sleeping bag camped out in the mountains at 18 degrees Fahrenheit. Today, I ran and walked laps around Echo Lake near my home in shorts and a tee-shirt. I covered 4.25 miles in my six+ laps around the lake on such a nice day, taking me about 48 minutes. I set my Ironman Timex to do 65 second run intervals and 90 second walk intervals.

It felt good at times to run this afternoon. Other times, it felt crummy. I started thinking about how little I have run in 2011 or even since the Seattle half-marathon in June 2010. I had the foot surgery for a neuroma last January, and that laid me up for weeks. I got in just enough running to be able to run and walk the Monument Avenue 10K the beginning of April. Then, two things happened, almost at the same time. First, I made the decision to walk about 60 miles in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure instead of doing a marathon for Team in Training. Second, I developed really bad plantar fasciitis a few weeks later. As a result, I did not run a step between April and September. I did run part of the Livestrong 10K the first weekend of October, and a tiny bit of the Traverse City Zombie 5K just before Halloween. And that has been about it for running in 2011.

What's next? I think I will try to run a few times a week, and every couple of weeks, I will add five or 10 seconds to my run interval. I'll have an initial goal of getting up to about a 10K distance in the next month, then gradually increasing to a half marathon with a goal of running the Shamrock half in March. That will depend on (1) finishing healing my plantar fasciitis and (2) getting a race entry. With all the people dropping dead in long races, some of them far younger and in far better shape than moi, I may also look into a really comprehensive physical to make sure my aging body will handle this without dropping dead mid-stride somewhere.

It is almost like starting running over again, it has been so long. But it feels good to know I've made a start. And also, I burned off at least one of the pieces of pumpkin pie I consumed over the last four days. Maybe.

And Yet Another Cancer Comrade

2011-11-26T06:32:00.004-05:00

Man, is there something in the water? I talked about Amy and breast cancer last time. This past week, I got a punch in the gut when I learned that my friend Bill not only has colon cancer, but that it has metastasized to his liver. And he was doing everything he should, including regular colonoscopies - in fact, he got his latest one, the one that showed he had a problem and needed surgery, a year early!

Early stage colon cancer - cancer that has not left the intestinal wall - is highly curable. Late stage colon cancer - in the liver or lungs for example - has a really bad prognosis, like as low as a 5% or 10% five year survival rate. I know that Bill is in shock right now, especially since his wife (and our friend) Judy died from multiple myeloma not even 11 months ago. He is weak from the surgery to remove the 10 inches of his colon, confused by all the tests, and scared about what the future holds for him. He really hadn't even finished grieving for his deceased wife yet, and now he has to face this. We all really feel for him. And we are worried about what the future holds for him. As he said the other day to me, "I was just getting to the point where I hoped I could have a few years to relax and rebuild my life."

I sent Bill this photo I had taken in June 2006 at the Cancer Survivors' Park in San Diego, California. I was there to walk the San Diego Marathon with Team in Training, just a couple of days after my four year anniversary of starting chemotherapy. So it meant a lot to me to visit this park, funded by a cancer survivor and dedicated to cancer survivors everywhere. The words on the plaque are words of wisdom for anyone diagnosed with cancer.We just finished Thanksgiving, a reminder to count our blessings. All of us whine and complain about silly things now and then, some more than others. But I tell you, if you are healthy or even relatively so, there is no greater gift than you can ask for. If I could have five million dollars, but have to face what Bill is going to have to go through, I'd tell you to keep your money. It is a terrible thing.

In less than a year, I've lost a friend and my sister to cancer. My sister's death this past year hit me really hard, even though I could see it coming. My friend's death was totally unexpected - she was diagnosed with myeloma in December and was dead four weeks later. Then I heard Amy's news, but was relieved about a great prognosis for her. Now, Bill's news - with a much more uncertain prognosis. Three friends diagnosed with cancer in less than a year. One of the dead. My sister dead. What's next? Amy, Bill, ... I hope we are not going to start working our way through the alphabet. Man, I hate cancer, I really do. We've made so much progress, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

One More Cancer Comrade

2011-11-17T05:19:00.006-05:00

I've been meaning to write about this for some time. Just after I got back from the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, I learned about one more person I know who just found out that she has cancer. In this case, it is breast cancer. Amy is a TNT alumni, a mentor, a runner and triathlete. In fact, she just completed her first Ironman in August. Then, a month later, she learns that she has breast cancer. She is perhaps late 40's - I hate guessing people's ages, especially those of women. Her prognosis is very good. The cancer is in one breast, and the tumor was surgically removed in a lumpectomy. But even so, it makes me sick to know that one more person has to go through this crap.

I woke up early this morning - too early - and I am not sure why. But as I lay in bed, trying in vain to fall asleep again, I started thinking about Amy. And while she was on my mind, I decided to write a little about her. Maybe someone reading this will give Amy a little prayer or some good vibrations, or a positive thought. I think she is going to be fine. She told me she was determined to survive, something I remember from myself nine years ago. But even so, a kind thought about her or a prayer for her can't hurt.

So here I sit, early morning, writing my blog. I have a mug of Earl Gray with honey. I have Beethoven on my CD player - Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, the piece of music that was so important to me nine years ago as I battled lymphoma. One of my cats is keeping me company. Still, I feel tired and I am thinking of my TNT buddy Amy, hoping she is doing well, saying a little prayer for her. One more good person with cancer. One more name to go on my next race shirt. The list never gets smaller.

Good Thing I Wasn't in That Field!

2011-11-15T20:30:00.002-05:00

For the first time in six years, I was in the area for the Richmond Marathon, a race that I have never done. If I didn't have the lingering heel pain, I think I might have signed up for the half marathon and done a run / walk combination, starting after the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure ended in late September. But looking at the results, I am glad I didn't! I think I would have been humiliated! It was a really fast field.

Let's look at the marathon first. My best time in a marathon was 5:57, walking most of it. That is a great walking pace, but would be far behind any runner. So that we are comparing apples with apples, let's assume that if I trained for and ran a marathon, I could at least do it at double my best half-marathon time of about 2:28 as I recall. Let's add 13 minutes for a half minute per mile slower pace, a bathroom break, and so on. That would give me hypothetical time of about 5:09. Where would that have put me in the Richmond Marathon?

Well, in my age group of 60-64, I would have finished 45th out of 66 people - not so good. If I lied about my age and went up to the 65-69 age cohort, I would have finished in the middle - 13th out of 26. By the way, my neighbor John is in that age cohort, and finished in 3:45:29 - and he was undergoing horrific treatment for prostate cancer less than a year ago! And he would have finished in the top third of men 20 years younger!

What if I lied about my gender? Well, in my age group, I would have beaten 9 women and finished behind 10. Keep in mind, I have never run a marathon in anywhere near that time, so it is hypothetical.

What if I had indeed run the half marathon? Well, it would have been worse. Not only would my best half marathon time - I've only run two - have put me dead last in my age group, I would have finished over 30 minutes behind the guy who actually did finish last among 60-64 year olds. The last guy to finish ahead of me would have gotten his medal, had a snack, stretched out, and probably read a book by the time I came dottering in! And I would have finished dead last in the 65-69 age group as well, 15 minutes behind the last place man. Holy crap! I would have finished in the bottom half of 70-74 year old men. I would have beaten all five of the 75 and older men, though. Small consolation!

I feel I will eventually get over my heel injury and want to run again. In fact, I want to run a marathon next year, my ten year anniversary of surviving cancer. But clearly I am going to have to step up my game if I don't wish to see my name in last place among like-aged men.

But on the other hand, as Teddy Roosevelt once said: "Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failures, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy or suffer much because they live in the grey twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat." So the true last place is the guy or gal who doesn't have the guts to lace up those running shoes and cross the starting line.

Why Can't My Bank Account Behave Like Beer Does?

2011-11-13T06:35:00.003-05:00

I went to my favorite microbrewery the other night, Legend Brewing Company, to quaff a brown ale and catch up with my friend, Ed. He has been having an incredibly rough time the last two years battling melanoma. At age 42, this is the fourth time he has had cancer, and this go around has been really rough. He somehow keeps smiling. I could write a couple of dozen post just about what he has experienced over the past couple of years.

Since I was driving afterwards, I limited myself to one brown ale of about 18 ounces. Really! After drinking it, I had to visit the mens' room, and made a quick trip. Ed and I talked for another hour after I finished my beer, and during that time, I had to make two more trips. Ed laughed pretty hard at the third one. "Wait till you get to me my age," I said. "The old prostate!" I stopped at the grocery store on the drive home, and had to pee a fourth time! From one beer! Seems like had to have peed a quart at least! Now, that is a lot of output from one 18 oz. beer!

It got me thinking - why can't my bank account behave like a beer does? Put in $100 and a couple of hours later, I get to take out $150 - $200? That would be pretty sweet, eh? If you find a (legal) bank like that, let me know.

Michigan Zombies

2011-11-05T20:41:00.005-04:00

A week ago today, I was in Traverse City, Michigan to run / walk the Zombie 5K with my granddaughter and daughter-in-law. Over 1,000 people participated. It was my second timed 5K ever, but I did it for fun, not for timing. I ran the first 3/4 of a mile, then waited for my two family members to show up. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, there they were, in last place, walking on the sidewalk. I think my nearly five-year-old granddaughter had had enough of racing. So since I was waiting near her house, we grabbed a stroller and pushed her for most of the rest of the 5K. By that time, we were dead last! We caught some of the folks, then stopped for a potty break, and were dead last again! I was determined not to be last, so we ran and walked until we passed at least a hundred or so people. My granddaughter did get out of the stroller and and walk a little of it. My final time was something like 59 minutes! But at least I didn't finish last. Ironically, because they started several minutes after me but we finished at the same time, my granddaughter actually had a faster time than I did! Here are some photos.

My zombie granddaughter and I before walking up to the starting point.
My daughter-in-law is very talented, and did her zombie makeup for the race, along with that of her daughter. No, she is not a giant - I am scooched down a bit.
My daughter-in-law and granddaughter a few minutes before the start.
Zombies prior to the start of the race.
Straggler zombies on 10th Street, nearly last but still several minutes ahead of my grandaughter.

"Slow Heeling"

2011-11-03T06:40:00.006-04:00

Folks have told me for some time how painful and slow to heal plantar fasciitis is. Like anything else in life, until you experience it yourself, you don't really know for sure. Now I know. After just over six months, I continue to have significant heel pain. I have a slow healing heel, or "slow heeling," I guess. Combined with my foot surgery in late January, most of 2011 has involved a pretty sore foot. No real complaints, because at least I was able to get past it enough to walk the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. I can't imagine not being able to walk that.

I am not sure how to totally heal my foot at this point. I want to do some long distant events in 2012 for sure, and need to get past this in order to do that. I need to get back to more consistency with my exercises and stretches. The plantar fascia itself is so much more flexible than it was six months ago. But I still have this painful area on the inside left heel. When I roll my foot on a frozen bottle or foot log, I can feel this little "popping" feeling as I roll over one part of it. So there is still damage in there to heal. For now, I guess I will walk some, hike some, avoid running and extreme long distances, and stretch as much as I can. It is so much better than it was, just not good enough yet.

You're Only as Old as You Feel

2011-10-31T07:36:00.002-04:00

You're only as old as you feel, they say (whoever "they" are). That is probably true to some extent. For me, that is usually about 40 or maybe 45, despite my chronological age of 60. But recently, I've had some back pain on my left lower back. Usually, it is not so bad, but a few times it has litterally almost driven me to my knees! During those times, I can barely walk for a short time, and I feel like I am about 90, not 40 or 60.

I am not sure what caused it. My wife says it must have been the Komen 3-Day. I guess that is possible, because I can't remember when it started. I just remember it was mild at first, and that the first really bad day of it was Monday, October 10. It has come and gone since then. I've applied ice and had a few chiropractic adjustments, and sometimes done some stretching. A few times, my stretches - especially side planks - has made it a lot worse.

I ran and walked a 5K the other day - more about that when I can get some photos downloaded - and my back wasn't too bad. Maybe I felt around 50 or 55. So like everything else, I will take it a day at a time and see what develops with it. For now, I'll just hope that how I feel is no older than 60 most of the time.

Now What?

2011-10-22T10:06:00.002-04:00

Every time I complete an event, especially since I started blogging about it three years ago, I come to this same question: now what? There is always a little feeling of downer, not exactly a depression, as those are apparently pretty all consuming from what I understand of depressions. More of a "I've worked my ass off for five months and accomplished what I said I would do and there is a little hole in my life now that the event is over" kind of a feeling.

So what should I do now? Should I take next year off? 2012 is the 10 year anniversary for me of surviving Hodgkin's lymphoma, so I feel like I should be preparing for something. Should I start thinking seriously about (and saving my dollars seriously for) the Honolulu Marathon on December 9, 2012 - my exact 10 year remission date? Should I fundraise for another Team in Training event, or help in some other capacity - like maybe as a coach's assistant? And until any of that happens, what, if anything should I write about in this blog? I don't have a ton of readership from what I can tell. If I stopped blogging for a while, would anyone but me notice?

My plantar fasciitis still continues. It is a fraction of where it was even two or three months ago, but I still have pain in that left heel, especially if I start walking. I have to somehow get that completely over with, but I don't want to be a lazy couch potato - that is not me, and it would drive me crazy. I know that I want to do a lot more hiking between now and the spring. There is a lot to think about right now, as I mull things over. Any thoughts?

Oh - I am in a 5K Zombie run next Saturday - just for fun. More about that later!

More Photos for the Livestrong 10K

2011-10-20T05:45:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote how I walked and ran the Livestrong Dolphin Challenge 10K at Sandbridge in Virginia Beach. It was a lot of fun, and my first time in running in five months, both because of the plantar fasciitis and because I had been training for the long Susan G. Komen walk.

They had a professional photographer there, and I found these two photos of me on the internet. The first one is a few meters from the finish of the 10K, and I look like I am enjoying myself - which I was. The second one was me being presented my dolphin trophy for finishing second place in my age cohort by the Livestrong representative. Never mind that there were not very many people in my age group. If some other old geezer had wanted my little dolphin, he should have been out there running instead of sitting on the couch watching TV and stuffing his face, or sleeping in on a beautiful October day. Don't you agree? Now, the only way he is getting that dolphin is to pry it out of my cold, stiff, dead fingers!

By the way, I had gone for a workout with a friend last night after work, and I was still wearing my Livestrong shirt when I hit the super market on the way home. On the back of the shirt, it asks "We Fight Cancer. What do You do?" A man in line asked me what it meant, and I explained. He said "My wife and I just came from the MCV Oncology Center. She has two months to live." It turns out that she has liver cancer that has metastasized all over. It is so sad. What can you even say to something like that that doesn't sound trite?

My Komen 3-Day Walk Report

2011-10-18T17:56:00.003-04:00

Walking in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was an amazing experience, and also a big experience. It has taken me three weeks to post the pictures and write the accounts. And now, you can access all of them easier from this single blog post!

How did I get interested in walking the 3-Day in the first place? Well, my walk this September was the culmination of several years of wanting to do this event. The terminal breast cancer of my sister made it imperative to do it this year.

Poised to race for a cure again, I display photos of my special honoree race shirt.

What should I do the day before walking for three days? Well, near Washington DC, I took a hike on Theodore Roosevelt Island, a bit of wilderness in the big city.

Like numbers? My account of my 3-Day walk by the numbers will scratch that itch!

Everyone deserves a lifetime! For some, it is too late, but the fact that it is not too late for so many others kept our feet moving for three days. Inspired by the grit of the walkers and the courage, hope, and strength of the survivors as they marched by the end, I just had to create a short verse to commemorate the 3-Day walk experience.

In pre-dawn darkness at Nationals Stadium, we gathered together to walk for three days for this cause.

The Opening Ceremony of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was a moving start to our walk.

Do you enjoy listening to the sound of rain? Well, you would have loved the first long day of our walk!

To camp out in a pink tent as a manly-man is a challenge, but what about in a whole sea of pink tents?

There was lots of joy in Mudville as we camped out together without complaining about it. And while wet and muddy, it was nowhere as bad as my imagination had been about it!

A freak injury in camp to my previously undamaged foot was going to make the second day of the walk a challenge.

Walking along that second day through Maryland carrying a little bag of dripping ice, I am sure that I presented a sight!

Visiting the Remembrance Tent in camp and reflecting on my sister's recent death was an emotional experience.

Time to break camp, but I lucked out when young women from a local college field hockey team offered to strike my tent for me.

On the third and final day of the walk, I got a lot of inspiration from talking to survivors along the way.

When I crossed the finish line at the National Mall, I fulfilled the promise that I had made my sister in April - that I would walk this walk in her honor.

A special sign for me was somewhere at the finish, but I didn't see it. Even so, I deeply appreciate the gesture.

The last walker arriving each day was a very big deal, and at no time bigger than on the third day of the walk.

Did you ever tell someone that they fight like a girl? Well, in my mind, I think you paid them a complement without meaning to.

Our incredibly hard-working Three Day Crew was not important, unless you like safety, great meals, a well run camp, and good first aid care. Then, they become vital.

The Closing Ceremony was about as inspirational as you can get, seeing all of the breast cancer survivors marching along together at the end, decked out in pink!

60 Miles, Three Days, One Goal - to cure breast cancer! That pretty much sums up the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in a few words.

Everyone Deserves a Lifetime!

2011-10-17T17:40:00.005-04:00

One of the slogans you see a lot in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure is "Everyone Deserves a Lifetime!" You see it on tee-shirts, buttons, and signs, and I really liked it. It very succinctly sums up this cause: to cure cancers so that people can live their full lifetime and full potential. To have more birthdays, more of life's celebrations and great moments. To tell your grandchild your life story some day instead of having them read a letter you left them about your life and death. I am all for it.

So I dedicate this humble offering to all breast cancer survivors and victims, especially those whose names were on my shirt and those who walked along with me for nearly 60 miles on September 23-25. The inspiration that I received from them during the three days and at the closing ceremony was immense.

"Everyone Deserves a Lifetime"

Together we walked across our Capital City
Through aches, pains, and blisters, and a cool driving rain
We kept our feet moving, determined and gritty;
"We walk for a cure!" was our proud refrain.

About Maryland we tromped, past parks and through towns
People decked out in pink as we strode down the street
We were focused and upbeat; you never saw frowns
We'll stamp out breast cancer with thousands of feet!

For three days we walked, as sisters and brothers
Among footsore ranks, cheer and broad smiles were rife
We walked united to support many others
In their fight with breast cancer: a fight for their life

We walked for your sister, your mother, your friend,
Your daughter, granddaughter, your cousin, your wife,
Your grandma - and you, because in the end,
Each one deserves more good times in their life

And on that third day, quite worn out and tired
We watched fellow walkers - survivors in pink -
Take their victory lap, and I felt so inspired
When I reflected how close they had been to the brink

They had faced radiation with all that it gives,
And chemo, and cuts from the surgical knife;
But deep in their heart, their survival will lives:
The desire to have more time in their life

Cancer has certain limits to what it can do
Though with these survivors, it gave its best try.
"Take one of my breasts, or even take two,
But you can't crush my spirit!" was their battle cry.

I gazed at their faces, so strong and so proud,
Engendering feelings intense and sublime
"We will find a cure!" I silently vowed,
"Because everyone deserves a lifetime!"

Art Ritter
October 16, 2011

Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal!

2011-10-16T20:00:00.002-04:00

Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal! This is one of several slogans that the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure uses. I saw it on buttons and tee-shirts, and I like it. Because that is what thousands of us were doing September 23-25 in the Washington, DC area - walking about 60 miles in three days to ultimately achieve one goal: stamping out incurable breast cancer.

Are we any closer to attaining this long-dreamed of goal? It is too late for my sister, my immense inspiration for me to walk this walk in the first place. But it is not too late for many others. Consider this fact that I learned during the closing ceremony: that the five year survival rate for newly diagnosed breast cancer patients in the United States stands at 98%! That is astounding! Just in the last week, I read about two amazing progress reports in the fight against breast cancer. In one, scientists at Penn State had discovered a virus that was annihilating breast cancer cells in the lab. It was so effective that they assumed that all the samples were contaminated, and redid all the work - and got the same results. In the other study, making an antibody from breast cancer cells in a person that was tailored to that person's proteins and cells was really effective if the cancer occurred again, and especially so it if was used early in the reoccurrance.

We are closer than we have ever been, but it is still not enough. For example, if you are 40 or 50 with breast cancer and have a 98% chance of living five years, but then die after six or seven, that is entirely too much of your lifetime to lose. The goal has to be to either make these cancers totally curable, or at least make them a chronic disease that people can survive for decades with minimal misery or impact on their lives. And with someone dying every 69 seconds somewhere in the world from breast cancer, we still have a long way to go.

Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal! It felt great to be a part of this in 2011, and I am really glad I did it. But I will be even more glad when they report, hopefully in the next 10 years: "You know that elusive goal we've been striving for? Mission accomplished! Thanks, everyone, for helping!" Won't that be amazing news? I hope I am here to hear it, but if not, I hope my granddaughter knows that her grandpa helped make it happen in his own tiny way.

3-Day Closing Ceremony

2011-10-14T05:30:00.005-04:00

After the last walker came in, and after we cheered for our hard working crew, it was time for the final part of our three day long adventure - the closing ceremony. All the walkers were told to line up 10 abreast (no pun this time), with all breast cancer survivors in the back. Although everyone struggled with this, somehow we did line up eventually. Then we walked through the Mall towards the stage while spectators on both sides of us cheered us on. It was actually pretty moving. Towards the stage, we divided left and right, and merged into the crowd. It was time for the Survivors' Walk.

When we completed the walk today, we were asked if we were a breast cancer survivor. If not, we got a white shirt, if so, it was pink. Most of the survivors had put on their pink shirt for this final walk. I looked out on the pink mass, seeming to be several hundred strong. They had all survived breast cancer and all of the awful things that happen as a result: disfiguring and painful surgery, chemotherapy, burning radiation. And now they had all walked nearly 60 miles for this great cause, so that one day, others would have an easier time of it. I gazed at the line of pink women, feeling so inspired and so fortunate to be here, a cancer survivor myself, yet still on God's green earth. As I studied the women in pink, and cheered for them, I wished so that my sister Ann could be among the survivors. She was for more than four years, but her cancer was just too relentless, too remorseless.Look at them! Look at their faces! Sometime in the last year, two years, five years, or more, each of these women were given horrible news by a doctor, four words that changed their lives forever: "You have breast cancer!" Their hearts probably nearly stopped with terror. Yet here they are now, strong survivors to inspire us all.As the surviving women stopped before us, speeches were made from the platform about this cause, and about the Susan G. Komen for the Cure organization. Many of the walkers took off a shoe and raised in in tribute. As a rookie, I didn't know about this, but I, too, removed my right shoe and held it aloft.Then the women in pink continued their walk towards the stage, moving between the two sides of the large crowd. Some of the survivors carried the banners that had inspired us for three days, since the opening ceremony:Just before leaving to grab my duffle and walk to a Metro stop for the trip back to my car, I took one final look around - at the crowd, the banners, all the pink, and to the surviving women on the stage. Doing this walk, being part of this cause these three days, will always be with me as a great memory.

3-Day Crew

2011-10-13T17:58:00.000-04:00

I could not complete my accounts of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure without talking about the amazing and hard working 3-Day Crew. Kind of sounds like a rock band, doesn't it? But without these volunteers, this event would be impossible. Susan G. Komen for the Cure is a charity, and charities have specific rules about how much of their revenues must to to the mission. Each crew member must raise about $500 to cover their direct and indirect expenses for the event, plus volunteer their time. And they have to work their butts off for at least three days. There were about 450 of them, or about one for every five walkers. What did they do?

Well, for starters, they were safety monitors. This walk had only minor police support. At every major, and many minor, intersections was a volunteer to make sure walkers obeyed traffic rules and didn't become roadkill. Many of them were in pink, including the men. They joked with us as we waited to cross. They were out all day in the rain on that first day. They also operated the vans that drove around all day in case someone needed a ride.

Along the route, there were lots of pit stops and "grab and go" stops. Every one of these had a staff to pass out food and drink, and a good sized volunteer medical crew - doctors and nurses. At the lunch stops, the crew served lunch, like these guys on the first day serving us in a driving rain. And at all of the stops, they collected trash and recyclables. In camp, the crew transported our luggage from the start (and back to the finish). They staffed the shower area, cooked and cleaned up from two great meals a day. The organized the lines to the buses, and manned the camp post office. They put up and took down all of the Remembrance Tents. They worked incredibly hard putting down mulch pathways in our pink tent city so that after the first muddy day, there were relatively dry areas to walk. They also camped out, like the rest of us, in their own camping area. Yesterday, I talked about how tough "girls"are. Well, the crew was plenty tough, too. One "lucky guy" had the job of patrolling the stinky porta-potty area all night while everyone else slept. He was a kind of security to make sure that women were safe in camp. Talk about a tough job!

At the end, during the closing ceremony, the crew walked through a double line of us walkers as we cheered them. Thank you, 3-Day Crew, for a difficult job well done!

Fight Like a Girl!

2011-10-12T18:47:00.005-04:00

"Fight Like a Girl!" many of the tee shirts along the 3-Day route said. When I was a lad, to be told you fight like a girl or run like a girl would have been an ultimate insult. But now, older and (perhaps) wiser, having seen how tough many "girls" are - and how well they run - I would take it as a complement. I think many of the women wearing these shirts were breast cancer survivors, and when you get in a fight with cancer, it does not care if you are male or female; black, white, or Asian; young or old; rich or poor. Cancer does not care in the least, and you will be in for the fight of your life. As tough as walking for three days is - and it is tough, trust me - it is nothing compared to a fight with cancer. So you'd better be able to fight like a girl.

So I rejoiced each time I saw this tee shirt, and for each survivor. It was inspirational. They proved how tough they were by surviving, by being out here walking, by giving back. By fighting like a girl.

I'm guessing that some of the women were not cancer survivors, but just liked the shirt, and that's OK too. Because they went through a lot to do this walk, not even counting the hundreds of miles of training that most of us did. I saw much suffering over the three days. The wet day Friday (September 23) raised hell with people's feet, causing many, many blisters. I saw people with tape all over their feet. I saw a woman on the third day walking in flip flops, carrying her running shoes! At each pit stop, there was a medical tent, and every one of them after the first few miles of the walk had lots of people getting treatment - most of them for blisters. Walking on bad blisters mile after mile is pretty painful, yet I saw people doing it over and over. Because of my own injury Friday night, I had plenty of opportunity on Saturday each time I iced my foot to study what people were having treated. It wasn't pretty. There are some tough people out there, women - and some men - that just kept on going, determined to finish.

I also saw some people that if you saw them, you would think that no way this person could walk even five miles. Maybe they were overweight or looked out of shape. Yet they walked nearly 60 miles, found a way to do it, found a way to take that next step over and over again until it was time to take the last step. It was amazing to see such toughness and determination. Because when you get to those last few miles, every moving part from the hips down to the toes hurts with every step. And I am going to guess if you are carrying an extra 30 or 40 pounds, then that pain is greatly magnified.

The one thing I did not see was any whining or complaining. People knew this would not be easy ahead of time, and they sucked it up. I hear a little complaining about nasty porta-potties, but not pain.

So guys, if you are ever tempted to insult someone by saying they fight like a girl or run like a girl, be advised. That girl may be tougher than you are.

The Last Walker

2011-10-11T18:01:00.003-04:00

Each of the two nights in 3-Day camp, we had a pretty cool ceremony. At some point, usually around 6:30 or 7PM, an announcement would take place: "Attention everyone! The last walker is arriving!" Everyone, or at least many people, would get up and leave what they were doing and form a double row coming into the dining area. The last walker would walk through the people with music blaring and people cheering her. Then she would raise a banner, and everyone would give a final cheer and get back to dinner. Think about this - the last walker has been out there walking 11 or 12 hours! And Friday, it would have been that long walking in the rain. By the time she arrived, I'd had a shower, put on fresh clothing, relaxed a bit, and gotten something to eat. She was just getting into camp, nearly at dark, and still had all of these things to do.

So on Sunday, September 25, we got an announcement at the National Mall about 4:30: "Attention everybody! The last walker is arriving!" Everyone, thousands of people, walkers and spectators, got to their feet and started cheering her as she walked those last few hundred meters. It was pretty neat! We celebrated this person who, although slower than everyone else, never quit, never gave up, just kept on plugging away until she finished. And at the end, everyone cheered her and her persistence.

Cheering for Art

2011-10-10T19:33:00.001-04:00

Donna, a woman from my wife's office, is a breast cancer survivor of several years, and has made a habit of going up to cheer for the end of the Komen race. When she learned that I would be in the walk, she made me a sign and was going to hold it for me. I was looking forward to seeing it. I finished the walk about 2PM, and didn't see the sign. I rested for a while and then walked back to the finish area to see if I could find Donna. Despite looking all over and waiting, I couldn't, so eventually I went back to the Mall to await the closing ceremony. No one had ever made a sign for me before, and I really wanted to see it. As it turns out, Donna had arrived about 3:30 and afterwards, walked all over holding the sign up and looking for me. Neither of us saw each other among the thousands of people there, and we were both disappointed. Later, Donna gave my wife the sign for me, pictured here. It was a very clever and artistic ign. Thank you so much, Donna! I so much appreciate you taking the time to make me a sign and to come up all the way to Washington to cheer for us participants, and to look for me.
As it turned out, Donna wasn't the only one there cheering for me. The US Government also put out two signs for me. Much appreciated, people of the United States of America!

Finishing the Komen 3-Day

2011-10-10T06:20:00.005-04:00

I'd taken to walking the last few miles of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure with three woman, all about my pace, all wearing shirts with pictures of their collective little girls, with "I'm Walking so They Won't Have To" written on their shirts. One of them ran the San Diego Marathon in 2007, the year after I was in that race for Team in Training, so we chatted about that. We passed some of the places pictured in my last post - Cafe Mozart and the White House - and then finally caught sight of the Washington Monument, which was near our final destination. Soon enough, we'd passed down along the Mall and made the final turn to see the finish gate:
I asked the three friends if they wanted a photo of them at the finish, which of course they did. After that, I passed through the finish gate and, and was overwhelmed by the noise of the people lined up on both sides cheering. It was very moving. The doctor who was the master of ceremonies was there - she is a breast cancer survivor and one of the most dynamic people I'd ever met. She cheered me and gave me a hug. Being there by myself, it felt good to have someone to celebrate with, if only for a second. Then, I got my 3-Day shirt and walked through a narrow area where I stopped for a few seconds. I looked down at the photo of Ann on my shirt and touched her face. "I did it, Ann. I did it, just the way I told you would." I was fighting back tears, and so badly wished I could call my sister and give her the news. But since I could not, I lined up to have a photo taken in front of the Day Three poster instead:
I went back around to the finish to look for someone who was supposed to be there to cheer for me - more about that later - and cheered for some of the finishers for a while.
Then I asked a man to take a picture of me with my new 3-Day shirt and the finish in the background.
After that, I wandered back around to the Mall to wait for the closing ceremony.

Day Three of the 3-Day: Inspiration!

2011-10-09T06:23:00.009-04:00

It is always hard to believe that something you have worked so hard for is about to be over, and that was true on September 25 as I finished packing my gear, loaded it on the truck, and headed for the line to get on the bus that would take us about 15 minutes to start the final day of my quest. This would be the shortest day of walking at about 15 miles, but I am sure that everyone walking today was already tired. It would be a very inspirational and sometime emotional day. Inspirational because of the many conversations I would have today with breast cancer survivors - one as recently as four months ago, and now out walking nearly 60 miles. Emotional, because so many times, I wished that I could call my sister and tell her that I was on track to complete this walk. At times, I tried talking to her. I'd say "Ann, I told you five months ago that I would do this walk, and now, I am nearly finished. This is for you, with love."

As I waited for the bus, I asked a lady to snap a photo of me wearing the special shirt that I had had made for today.
While waiting in the bus line, everyone seemed happy that the earlier rain had stopped.
This banner was at the bus line. As I had lost my sister in May, so had my nephew lost his mom.
At the start of the walk, these two women were honoring a loved one in the US Marine Corps. Semper Fi!
There were a number of support vans that continually drove by us. This one had really cool decorations.
We were all moving along pretty good, happy to be here, happy to have a second dry day in a row.
Of all the sentaments and emotions of the three day, I think that nothing trumps love.
I had followed this woman and her lemur for many miles in the rain on the first day of the walk, and finally got a photo of them in dry weather. I told her to keep an eye on the lemur once we got near the zoo.
We had passed this same restaurant in Bethesda, Maryland yesterday on the second day of the walk, and I thought it looked beautiful. I would love to come back and try it another day.
I had conversations with many survivors during the three days - including several on the third day. But this lady was the most inspirational. 28 years ago, she had metastasized breast cancer in her bones, always lethal. She was pregnant, and doctors refused to treat her until she got an abortion. The lady to her right is her 28 year old daughter, so you can see that she refused to follow that advice. How amazing to survive something like that, and walk 60 miles with that daughter 28 years later as a survivor.
We saw this girl several times doing the hula-hoop to entertain us.
As we walked up a steep hill in Washington, this little girl in pink blew bubbles for us.
I am indicating that I am on my third day of this little adventure, one that I am honored to have.
Our lunch spot today was comfortable and dry, unlike the first day. Everyone was in a festive mood.
We had supporters showing their pink all over the place.I love going to the National Zoo, and would have enjoyed a little stop here, but still had miles to go at this point. Another time...
One of our many supporters along the way.
I love Mozart's music, and couldn't resist snapping a picture of a cafe named after him in a city that didn't even exist at the time of this musical genius's life.
Here I am just a mile or so from the finish near the White House. It would have been so cool to see the President. It was feeling more and more emotional with each step, realizing that I was close to fulfilling my promise to my sister.

Breaking Camp at the 3-Day

2011-10-08T00:52:00.008-04:00

On September 25, I awoke at 4AM, having to take a pee. It was drizzling and I could hear the rain pattering on my little pink tent. I had slept through the night, very comfortably, and felt pretty good. My new compression socks had really helped with knocking out some of the soreness I had felt the evening before. My newly injured toes even felt less painful. I put on my running shoes, went out to the porta-potty, and quietly walked back to my tent.

Snug in my sleeping bag, renewed sleep would not come. I could hear the women all around starting to stir about 5AM, and about 5:30, I decided to get up. I walked the third of a mile in a light rain to the shower area, and used one of the outdoor sinks to shave and brush my teeth. A woman at the sink next to me was applying makeup in the rain, which seemed fruitless. I took my gear back to my tent, and went to breakfast. I had some great conversations at breakfast with several women about the walk and why we were doing this - really nice people, as were the folks I'd eaten dinner with the night before. It is tough to be totally by yourself at something like this. Most of the people, all but a handful, were there with a team. But I had found most people to be open and friendly.

After breakfast, I grabbed a couple of napkins and walked back to the sink area. There, I wet the napkins and used them to apply the temporary 3-Day tatoos I had bought at the Komen store last night. I wanted to do something a little special for this last day, the culmination of following through with what I told my sister Ann I would do in her honor - and now her memory. Now, it was time to pack up my stuff and strike the tent. I was not looking forward to packing a wet tent in the rain and somehow stuffing it back in the ridiculously small pink bag. But again, I lucked out. Several young women from a local college field hockey team had volunteered to take down and pack up the tents. I changed into my walking clothes for the day, including my special shirt with my sister's photo on it. I packed my duffle, and stepped outside. "Anyone need help packing their tent?" called out one of the college women. "Sure!" I said. I introduced myself and we shook hands. She peered at my shirt in the pre-dawn darkness. "Ah, your sister," she said. "Oh, and she died just a few months ago. I am so sorry. She's beautiful." I told her a few things about my sister, and could feel tears welling up. I thanked the two young women, and hoped that their field hockey team goes undefeated. I grabbed my duffle and started the walk towards the bus that would transport us to the starting point of the day's walk. What a huge help not having to pack up my tent!

I took my duffle to a truck for loading, and walked slowly to the line of people waiting to get on a bus. It was now about 6:40AM, still pretty dark, and I looked around fondly at the camp that had been my home for two nights, bustling with activity as people ate, packed, cleaned up, and worked (our hard-working and dedicated crew, that is). But it was time to move on, to complete my tribute to my sister using my feet and legs. It was time to complete the 3-Day!

The Remembrance Tent

2011-10-07T05:31:00.003-04:00

At camp during the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was a really moving feature: the Remembrance Tent. This was an area with white - not pink - tents set up to remember those who have passed on due to breast cancer.

Outside on a little knoll was a row of small white tents set up as a semicircle. Each tent represented a city that holds a 3-Day Walk: Boston, Seattle, Philadelphia, Phoenix, and so forth. On each tent is written messages to someone who participated in a 3-Day Walk in that city who has since died from breast cancer.

The Remembrance Tent itself was set up with its front facing the semi-circle of small white tents. This tent was much larger and did not have messages written on it.

Inside the Remembrance Tent was one last small white tent - the one dedicated to Washington, DC's walk. It, too, was covered in written messages. At the far end of the tent was a long table with several notebooks and pens, some flowers and little lamps, and a box of tissues. Four or five chairs were placed at the table. On all four walls of the tent were hung pictures of women who had participated in various walks who were now dead. I spent some time quietly looking at each picture. Then, I sat at the table and wrote a message to my sister Ann in one of the books, thinking of her last months and how much I wish things were different. I wondered if somehow the words that I wrote in the book were being relayed to her spirit. There is no way to know. After writing my note, I sat solemnly for a few moments, deep in thought. Then I stood up, took a tissue from the box, and quietly left the Remebrance Tent.

Day Two of the 3-Day: Ice!

2011-10-05T05:19:00.007-04:00

Before getting started on the second day of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, I checked my feet carefully. I was lucky not to have gotten any blisters despite the very wet conditions on the first day of the walk. I did have a couple of spots that felt "hot", so I put on some moleskin and coated my feet in Body Glide, then put on my socks and my new (and dry) shoes. It was going to be a 21 mile day, and I needed to get my injured toes checked out as early as possible. They were sore and looked even worse then they felt. I got my foot checked out at the first pit stop at the medical tent. The nurse felt it looked pretty bad and gave me packets of antibiotic and a bag of ice. She told me to ice my toes at every stop for about 10 minutes. So for most of the walk, I carried a slowly melting bag of ice. I'd get ice added at each stop, sit on the ground, and put the bag on my toes. It definitely helped with the swelling, and made the pain lessen. Compared to the many terrible blisters I saw on people's feet, not to mention the guy walking the walk with a prothesis from the hip down, my toe injury seemed fairly minor.

While I feel like I am walking this walk for anyone with breast cancer, or any type of cancer, there is one person in particular I am doing this for:
As I left the camp, I turned and snapped a shot of walkers coming through the row of banners.
A lot of the route went along parks and other open areas on paved paths. It was a very pleasant walk, with nice scenery a lot of the way. Plus, even though it got warm, it was not raining, which put everyone in a festive mood.
I saw more interesting decorations about and depictions of breasts today than I think I'd ever seen, including this truck:
These two buxom gals were at one of the pit stops. I wanted a photo and they insisted I get in the picture with them, at boob level. It would have been rude not to comply, don't you think?
Part of our route went through downtown Bethesda, where I had never been before. It seemed like a nice city, with some great looking restaurants and pubs. It was also the one spot on the route this day with a lot of people cheering, which made us move our tired legs just a bit faster.

I walked with this group for a few minutes and decided to take a photo of them.
At the end of the walk, I decided to pose with the day's poster back in camp. I'd survived 21 miles, my longest distance since the Arizona Marathon in 2008, with plantar fasciitis in one foot and bashed toes on the other. I knew that I could get through another day.

A Freak Injury in 3-Day Camp

2011-10-04T05:25:00.007-04:00

When you are training for an endurance event, such as the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure or a marathon, one of the things in the back of your mind is a freak injury. I got two of these last year just before my half marathon in Seattle - a rolled ankle and a slight tear to a calf muscle. I was lucky, because had either been a little more severe, it could have knocked me out of the race. I had a similar incident the first night, Friday, in our muddy camp.

I had eaten dinner and returned to my pink tent to rest a bit and read. After a while, I decided to go back to the main tent to watch the camp show. It turned out that I was too late, but as I walked down the mulch path that the crew had put down, my left heel stepped on a large chuck of mulch, like a piece of a branch. The force lifted the opposite end into the air and pivoted it backwards. A fraction of a second later, my right foot swung, toes first, into the piece of wood made immobile by my weight. I was wearing my open toes crocs because of the muddy conditions, and I drove two toes right into the wood. The pain was such that I nearly said a very bad word. Maybe I did. In any event, I knew I had done some damage.

I got up a couple of times during the night to take a pee, and each time, my right foot hurt a good bit as I limped along. In the morning, I could see that my toes were bruised and there was a slight cut. Then I worried about getting an infection from having mud all over my feet and tried to remember when my last tetanus shot had been. I washed my feet using my water bottle and put on my running shoes. I could walk okay, although the 21 miles that day would not be pain-free. But I decided that at the first aid station of the day, I would stop and see if they had any antibiotic.

There Was Lots of Joy in Mudville

2011-10-02T17:35:00.005-04:00

"No Whining!" That is one of the mantras of Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure participants. After all, you are not going to walk 60 miles in three days and sleep out in a tent without some pain and discomfort, and that is under the best of circumstances. And with an almost all day rainfall which turned parts of our campground into a sea of mud, our circumstances were no where near the best. But it didn't matter. I heard no whining. People were upbeat and happy, and choose to be inspired and grateful that we were all doing this.

That being said, there was a lot of mud. I had two pairs of running shoes with me, one of which could not have been wetter. I had a pair of crocs, which I wore as shower shoes. I also wore them around the camp that night rather than risk coating my remaining pair of shoes with mud. But as a consequence, my feet got coated in mud over and over. There was no way to get them clean. The race crew did yeoman's duty putting down paths of mulch (more on that later) so we could walk in relative dryness in parts of the camp. But other areas, especially the low area between our tents and the latrines, were like walking through a swamp. You would litterally sink several inches into the mud. Mud would ooze between my toes. The floors of the portapotties were coated in mud and slimy water. It was like the beginning of my thoughts on the worst thing that could happen on the walk. I stuffed napkins into my wet pair of shoes, and they helped to dry them over the next 24 hours so that I could wear them Saturday night instead of my crocs. Thus my feet didn't get muddy the next night.

When I would get back to the tent after a trip to the portapotties or the dining area, I would use one of the towels left behind to wipe the worst of the mud off my feet. Even so, my feet were coated in mud by morning. It stopped raining about 7PM Friday, and so at least the mud didn't get worse. On Saturday morning, I walked to the sink area with one of the muddy towels and my water bottle. I also took some napkins. I would fill the water bottle over and over and squirt my feet with it, then wipe my feet with the towel. Eventually they got clean enough that I could wipe my feet with the napkins and finally dry my feet pretty well. Then I put on my socks and running shoes for the day's long walk, and was good to go.

Would I, and everyone else, have preferred dry conditions and no mud? Absolutely! Did we let the muddy conditions dampen our spirits? Absolutely not! There was no lack of joy in Mudville.

The Land of the Pink Tents

2011-10-02T06:48:00.006-04:00

Have you ever slept in a pink tent? How about you, fellow manly men - have you ever slept in a pink tent?

After a very wet and tiring day of walking the bus dropped us off at our camp. The rain was still coming down, and I was not looking forward to setting up my tent. This is when I got two lucky breaks. I walked around camp getting oriented, and found the area of camp where my row of tents - Row I - would be. I walked down the row, and lo and behold, my tent was up. A young man came up to me, and said "Are you Art?" "Sure am," I said, extending my hand. His name was Devon, my tent mate, and he had already put up our tent. Then I got my second stroke of luck for the day.

The two women who had the tent next to us had decided they had had enough rain and discomfort, and had decided staying in a hotel would be better for them. They had told Devon that he could use their tent. Thus, we each had a tent to ourselves, which given all the wet geat to spread out, was great. As a third stroke of luck, there was water in the tent, and they had left two towels in there - towels I used over and over to mop up water and semi-clean mud off my feet.

I located my gear - very lucky because it was in the middle of the pile for "Row I" and thus not wet and muddy like some of the bags towards the edges of the pile - and lugged it up the rise to my tent. I crawled in and unpacked some of my stuff, sopping up water with the towels. The rain beat down on the tent and it was stuffy in there, so I didn't linger long. I grabbed some clean (and dry) clothing and headed down for a shower. It was about a third of a mile each way. The smartest thing I have ever done is pay $12 for two days of towel service. I got two big towels for each shower and didn't have a wet towel to use the next day stinking up my tent. The showers were set up in these big portable shower trucks, one for men, the rest for women. The water was piping hot and felt great. There were also some outdoor sinks for brushing one's teeth, shaving, and so forth.The camp was very comfortable, even in the rain and mud. There were banks of portapotties, two big tenting areas on rises so they were fairly dry, and a huge dining tent. There was also a food serving area, and a bank of smaller tents for getting messages, relaxing, and checking out displays. A Komen 3-Day store was also set up, and a Bank of America area where you could sit in a massage chair for a few minutes. There was also a remembrance area, which I will discuss later. This is a view of the food serving area (right) and a small part of the huge dining tent (left).Here I am on Saturday evening outside my tent. Inside, it looks like a running store and an REI store had a couple of sticks of dynamite go off. And it smelled like something crawled into the tent, vomited, and died! I couldn't figure it out until I got home and got a good whiff of my Friday running shoes! OMG!

Living Strong in Second Place

2011-10-01T13:54:00.007-04:00

Do you see the glass as half full or as half empty? I usually see it as half full, so I can say that today, I finished second in my age group at the Livestong Dolphin Challenge 10K at Sandbridge, Virginia. If I saw the glass as half empty, I could say that I finished last in my age cohort, because there were just two men (and no women) age 60 and above in the 10K. But the way I see it, the guys that finished last were the ones who slept in, or sat on the couch all day, right? So, why would I want to run a 10K just 6 days after finishing the long and arduous Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure? Well, consider these reasons:

1. I wanted to wear the shirt with my sister's picture in one more fighting cancer event.
2. I'd not yet done a race as a 60 year old guy
3. My sister Ann's birthday was a few days ago. It felt good to start and end the week of her birthday doing an event like this.
4. The last time all of my siblings and I will ever be together was here at Sandbridge almost exactly three years ago for Ann's 60th birthday. Now she is gone, and I was doing this race as a 60 year old.
So a couple of days ago, my damaged foot (severely bruised toes) from the 3-Day feeling much better, I decided to sign up for the Livestrong event. I have not run in five months (since the Monument Avenue 10K), so I did a walk - run mix, with the emphasis on the walk. It took me an hour and 17 minutes, although I added about 0.2 miles to the race when I missed the turnaround point. I was happy with my time, given 60 miles last weekend, my continuing plantar fasciitis, my toe injury, and my lack of running. I may be old, I may be slow, but at least I was on the go! And I did finish second in my age group, regardless.

This is a true run by the ocean. This was the view just a few meters from the start of the race:
Before the start, I asked a lady to take a photo of me wearing the same shirt with my sister Ann's photo on it that I wore on the third day of the Komen 3-Day last Sunday.
Just 200 meters into the race, this is what the field looked like. Most of the people were doing a 5K, but it seemed like at least 50-70 people ran the 10K:
The route ran right up Sand Fiddler Road, with the ocean just yards away the entire 10K:
This being the beach, you can find some pretty cool decorations along the ocean front homes, like this rockfish at the 5K mark, and this cool dolphin:
Here I am holding my trophy, and a close up of my second place trophy:

Day One of the 3-Day: Wet!

2011-09-29T20:52:00.008-04:00

So, the opening ceremony was over, and we moved through "cattle chutes" to start the walk, getting our 3-Day ID scanned as we left the chute. This event had impressive organization and safety consciousness. The weather was still dry, but that would change - oh, how that would change! In any type of endurance event I have trained for, one of the things that is emphasized is to train in all types of conditions: hot and cold, wet and dry, hilly and flat. Well, forget about cold, and as it turned out, I only had a couple of times training in rain, the most notable of which was a nice hike up Cold Mountain. Today would make up for that. Our route was 17 miles, and criss-crossed Washington, DC, ending up eventually in Maryland. Most of the time, I had no idea where we were, although I know we went through the government area, Georgetown, and Adams-Morgan. Much of the time, I walked by myself. Other times, I struck up conversations with people and walked with them for a little ways. The most difficult part, other than the rain, was the constant stopping for traffic lights and when people got bunched up.

The support on the walk was fantastic! We had a number of vans patrolling for stragglers or people who could not walk anymore. They cheered for us every time they went by. Each had a decoration theme. I loved this one! So funny!

We are going by the lovely Botanical Gardens here, just a mile or so from the start of the walk.
Is Minnie Mouse cheering us on? She is sporting pink.
This is me with our Capital in the background. Too bad Congress can't get along as well and as cooperatively as everyone did on this walk. I later got a pink lei, but didn't have it yet to compliment my green shirt from last year's Seattle Half-Marathon.
This was the first porta-potty stop. It was drizzling and cool. The lines were long, probably the longest toilet lines of the whole three days because people were still clustered. Note the copious amounts of pink!
These two ladies from Florida sported really cool pink flamingos. I can't imagine how soggy these got later in the day!
Shortly after seeing the Washington Monument, the drizzle became a steady rain, and I took no more pictures for the walk except a few, sneaking the camera out of its plastic bag for as briefly as I could.
Lunch was memorable! We sat on the ground in a driving rain, trying to keep our sandwich and chips dry. I bolted my food and started walking again. I heard no complaining, from me or from anyone else.
Most people walked in some type of rain gear, including the disposable rain jackets that they gave us. I tried the rain gear for a while, but got too hot, although I ended my walk for the day putting the poncho back on again.
At some point after lunch, I changed my socks to a dry pair. They were soaked within half a mile. Eventually I stopped at a bus stop to put on moleskin on a couple of "hot spots," and wrang the water out of my socks. I got a good half cup out of each pair.

I risked one last photo in the rain to capture the National Cathedral, which I had never seen before. It was recently damaged by our earthquake.
A few miles after this point, somewhere in Maryland, our 17 miles was over for the day, and we caught a 20 minute bus ride to camp, the rain still beating down. I was not looking forward to putting up my tent in the rain.

The Komen 3-Day Opening Ceremony

2011-09-29T05:12:00.003-04:00

The Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure kicked off with a great opening ceremony. It was still kind of dark at 6:30 when we all gathered outside the Washington Nationals baseball stadium and faced the stage. Music pounded. The skies were overcast, but there was no "liquid sunshine" yet. The crowd was high energy. A young woman came on stage. She was a doctor, and a breast cancer survivor. She was the highest energy, most enthusiasic doctor you will ever meet, and we would see her many times over the next three days. She had also done the 3-Day herself, and knew what we were in for.

As she spoke, I continued to look around the crowd. I saw a few men, but there was a lot more estrogen here than testosterone. It also was clear to me that I had been wrong about something. In my first Komen 5K, only breast cancer survivors had worn pink, so I assumed that this would be the case with the 3-Day. But there were far too many people in pink for that to be the case, including many men. I found myself wishing that I had a pink dry-fit shirt.

I really liked this woman's hat. She and two friends had identical skull caps that mimicked breasts, including the areola and nipple! On the last day of the walk, I ran into them along the route and chatted for a couple of minutes about their hats.

For me, the most moving part of the opening ceremony involved the flag raising. A single woman - a breast cancer survivor - walked through the crowd and climbed the steps to a circular platform. She carried a large white banner, covered with text that people were had written. The text was messages written by participants about people who had died from breast cancer. I wish I had seen it before hand, because I would have written a message for Ann. This banner is called the "remembrance flag," I think. The woman slowly raised the banner up a flagpole, and then she was joined by eight other women - all breast cancer survivors - who each carried a banner. They formed a circle around her. I so wished my sister could have joined them as a survivor, but was very much moved by the nine of them, knowing what hardships they had endured and gotten past.

After the circular area had cleared, I snapped another photo of it, since there was a little more light now. You can see the white remembrance flag in the center.

One of many attributes anyone facing cancer must have is courage:

It would take a while for the large number of walkers to pass through the "cattle chutes" to start the walk, and I continued to study the walkers. I thought that this guy's pink banner was pretty cool, and also chuckled a bit over two ladies walking together (one shown here) with the team name of "Fore Old Jugs."

Soon enough, I passed through the "cattle chute" and was taking my first steps on my long walk to honor the memory of my sister, and to honor all those who have had this awful disease.

Gathering for the Komen 3-Day for the Cure

2011-09-28T20:55:00.004-04:00

On September 23, I was jolted awake at 3:40 by my wake-up call in my Arlington hotel room. I came to life quickly and shortly thereafter, had shaved, showered, dressed, and eaten breakfast. After packing and checking out, I boarded the bus at 4:45 for the 15-20 minute ride to Nationals Stadium. There, I joined several thousand others gathering for the start of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. Already, I was impressed how well organized everything was. A large team of volunteers was in place to help with information and load luggage. I quickly found the right truck to load my duffle, packed with sleeping bag, sleeping pad, pillow, and clothing and gear for the next three days. It was still totally dark at 5:15 when we all arrived, with the opening ceremony still more than an hour away. People milled around chatting with one another, checking out the three day store, and relaxing.

I walked through the small Komen store. My goal was to find a temporary tatoo for my face, but they had none. I bought 3-Day pin for my hat, and a deep pink wrist band that said "60 miles. I can do that." I asked if they had any Komen 3-Day tatoos or pink ribbon tattoos, but they didn't . But a young woman said she had a pink ribbon sticker, and kindly offered to give it to me. It lasted all day, but washed off in the shower that night. Since I didn't have anything pink to wear, I wore this with pride and gratitude. I think it looked pretty good on me.

There was a table with pink stickers. We could take one and write a message on it. Here is what I wrote in memory of my sister Ann, now departed nearly four months. It is still hard to believe after how hard she fought.

The pink circular stickers were placed on a large white wall. Ann's is on the upper right.

After resting for a bit on the ground, it was almost time for the opening ceremony. There was a threat of rain, but all was still dry. After 172 days of waiting, my three day adventure was about to begin.

My Komen 3-Day by the Numbers

2011-09-26T20:59:00.004-04:00

The Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure this past Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Washington, DC and Mongomery County, Maryland was a blast. It was very emotional at times and I thought of my deceased sister pretty continually. I miss her so much.

I'll be writing a lot of posts in the next week or so, but thought I'd start with an account of some of the numbers of my latest attempt to race for a cure. Days since I signed up: 175
Days when my left foot felt normal: 24
Steps taken during the 175 days: 2,279,560
Approximate miles walked: 1,079
Weight gain/ loss: 0 pounds
Miles of the Washington 3-Day course: 53
Approximate miles walked during the 3 days: 70.6
Dollars donated to Komen by my supporters: $8,760
Number of donors: 122
Number of honoree names on my shirt: 71
Number of inspirational people I met during the three days: far, far too many to count

Racing for a Cure Once More

2011-09-21T21:28:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm all set! My left foot is about at 85%, meaning I still get some heel pain from the plantar fasciitis but nothing like even a month or so ago - much less four months ago! Too bad I couldn't get in a few more long walks, but I will cope. My bag is all packed. It is amazing how much stuff I had to cram in there: remember, I have to camp out for two nights and had to stuff a sleeping bag, sleeping pad, and pillow in there. Friday will be a very early day, as I have to check in between 5AM and 6AM at Nationals Stadium in Washington, DC. The event kicks off at 6:30 AM. Right now, Friday could be wet but the rest of the weekend looks good. The weather will do what it will do. I plan on enjoying the experience, which will be so emotional at times. Racing for a cure again - about 53 miles, it sounds like, a tad bit short of the 60 I expected. I wish I could pick up the phone on Sunday and call Ann, tell her I did what I told her I would do five months ago, especially in her honor.

Last night, I wrote honoree names on my special shirt that I had made with my sister Ann's photo on it. Pink names for those who had breast cancer, blue for the names of those that had some other kind of cancer. It looks pretty nice, I'd say. I will wear this shirt on Sunday. Maybe your name is on this shirt, or the name of a loved one. If so, I am walking for you, for them!

How I Came to Do the Komen 3-Day

2011-09-20T04:37:00.001-04:00

It was the summer – July maybe - of 2004. I was a year and a half finished with chemo for Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and a month or so removed from walking in the National Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Washington, DC. This was a 5K event in a cold rain, and it was amazing to see the thousands and thousands of people walking and running for the cause of bringing attention to breast cancer. It had been emotional seeing the many of the women in pink shirts, each of them a survivor of this terrible disease.

On that July Day driving in my car, I heard an advertisement about the “Komen 3-Day,” and I later looked it up. Wow! A three day walk to raise money to fight breast cancer and help out those suffering from this disease. Camping out as a group. Walking about sixty miles! It sounded pretty amazing. My sister-in-law Christine was a breast cancer survivor. Plus I knew several more – the number keeps growing annually - women who had survived, or succumbed to, breast cancer. “I should do this walk someday,” I said to myself. The fundraising sounded difficult but doable.

Then, I got involved with Team in Training. The Anchorage Marathon in 2005. The San Diego Marathon in 2006. Mentoring in 2007. The Arizona Marathon in 2008. How could I simultaneously fundraise for the Komen 3-Day while doing Team in Training? But I thought about it every year. And there was a sad milestone for my marathon in Arizona in 2008 – for the first time, my sister Ann’s name was on my race shirt. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer less than a year before. I needed to do the Komen 3-Day in honor of Ann some year.

Time marched on. The Country Music Half Marathon in 2009. My sister was now in remission. But that remission ended near the end of the year. I ran the Seattle Half Marathon for TNT in June of 2010. I had now raised over $50,000 for LLS in my five Team in Training events, and I went into 2011 thinking I would do TNT again. After all, a very dear friend died from multiple myeloma, one of the blood cancers, just days into the New Year. But after a lot of soul searching and some conversations, and seeing my sister get weaker and weaker as each month went by, I decided that this was the year to do the Komen 3-Day. I wanted my sister to know I was going to do this walk specifically in her honor. I didn’t think she would live to see me do it, but at least she would know I would do it. I think she was honored by this.

The five months since I signed up for the 3-Day have speeded by. I’ve not walked as much as I hoped to in order to prepare. But I have raised the money required to participate, and I will walk strong and proud, walking for those who cannot, racing for a cure once more. My sister is not here anymore, but she will be with me every step: in my memories of her and my love for her. Her battle is over, but that of tens of thousands of others of women – and some men - goes on. The money that people generously donated will help them, and those yet to be diagnosed or even born.

Seven years ago, I first got the idea to walk the 3-Day when I heard a chance advertisement on my car radio. In just a few days, I will make that happen. If you helped me get there in some way, thank you!

Do I Look That Dangerous?

2011-09-19T16:25:00.003-04:00

For several months, I try to spend a few minutes several times a day stretching my plantar fascia and my Achilles tendon. My doctor told me in early June that these stretches will be critical to getting the plantar fasciitis to heal. The stretch involves putting the ball of my foot on a wall, heel at the base of the wall a few inches back. Then I push down on the ball of my foot while leaning into the wall. This gets a double-sided stretch going, both the foot and Achilles at the same time. It has been pretty effective.

At work, I will do this in the stairwells. I often have people walk by on the stairs and it has never elicited more than a “Hi” and a “I’m stretching” from me. Until late last week, that is. Then, a woman opened the door and bounded into the stairway, coming down towards me. She got about five steps down, and froze, staring at me as if I had a pipe bomb strapped to my chest, a large knife in my hand, a handgun in my other hand, and as if I were shouting “Death to America!” She started to turn to go back up. I realized that I had somehow scared the wits out of her, and I spoke up. “Hey, it’s OK,” I said. “I have a foot injury and am just doing a stretch. I do this all the time!”

She still looked a little wary, and said “Well, you never know about Downtown Richmond.” Then she continued down the stairs, gliding past me. Afterwards, I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror to make sure my face had not turned purple, or I didn’t have blood gushing from an eye, or that I hadn’t sprouted horns. Everything looked alright, just a normal looking (well, I think so) guy with gray hair and glasses. Not sure how I could have scared her that bad. I guess she just wasn’t expecting to see someone loitering in the stairwell – it is not like it is a great place to hang out. It was a weird feeling, because I wouldn’t hurt a flea. Well, maybe a flea or a tick, I’ll grant you that, but nothing more.

Stepping Up

2011-09-15T20:31:00.002-04:00

I started counting my steps when I signed up for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in early April. How many steps would I take between then and the event a week from now? Of course at the time, I had no idea that plantar fasciitis would strike and strike hard. I've been dealing with that for about 4.5 months now. Even so, I took my two millionth step this past Tuesday since my starting point in April. Given the pain I've had in my heel most of this time, I am actually a little amazed by that. That averages out to 12,361 steps a day, every day, pain, rain, shine, work, weekend. Since my heel pain has started to lessen a couple of months ago, I've averaged nearly 16,700 steps each day.

I've walked whenever I can, even if it just up a few flights of stairs at work, or a quick jaunt over to see a co-worker instead of picking up the phone. Even when I took it easy when the plantar fasciitis was at its worse, I still averaged more than 10,000 steps a day. And over time, the count went up and up until it crossed the two million mark.

So injury or not, I feel like I have "stepped up" to prepare for the walk the best that I can.

My Honorees for the 3-Day for the Cure

2011-09-14T21:47:00.003-04:00

My 60 mile walk on September 23-25 is about raising money to support breast cancer patients and to help research a cure, but it is also about far more than that. It is my way to honor many people who have dealt with cancer, and for people who donate to Susan G. Komen by way of my walk to honor canceer patients. This post, which I will keep close to the top of my blog, lists those who are honored by my efforts, and by the donations of so many people.

My walk is specifically about breast cancer. But as you can see, my honorees come from a wide spectrum of people affected by many cancer. This list is a work in progress as more honorees are named as my walk approaches. Those whose name is in pink suffered from breast cancer. I will be writing all of these names on my special shirt for the third day of the walk on September 25.
My main honoree, is my dear and lately departed sister, Ann Ritter. I wish so much she were still here, and healthy again. I think of her every day, and she will be in my heart every step of the three day walk.

In Memory of Dr. Ann Ritter

Born September 28, 1948

Died May 30, 2011

Cause: complications from metastasized breast cancer

Next, we have my special personal honorees for this walk, most people recently affected by cancer: In Memory of: Jennifer Willey – died in November at age 31 from Hodgkin lymphoma; Judy Zettel – our dear friend, who died 1/9/11 from multiple myeloma, just four weeks after diagnosis; Lanie Evans – died January 26 from Glioblastoma multiforma (very agressive brain cancer) at just age 40; Maurice “BJ” Beck – died in 2009 at age 16 from acute myelogenous leukemia; Stephen Hauck – died in September 2010 from acute myelogenous leukemia; In Honor of: Danny McGowan - my brother-in-law's brother, fighting cancer of the throat; Dayton Richmond – battling multiple myeloma, diagnosed around August; Denver Bridwell – age 24, recovering from acute lymphoblastic leukemia after four years, including two hip replacements; Ed Stone – 21 years after surviving leukemia, currently undergoing treatment for the fourth time for melanoma; Elayne Minich – battling metastatic breast cancer after 12 years; Gary Adams - terminal leukemia and colon cancer; John Hunnicutt – recent prostate cancer; Laura Kitchens - friend of a friend, breast cancer survivor, currently fighting leukemia; Paul Zamecnik – battling chronic lymphocytic leukemia that became active in October after years of the disease being dormant; Robin Yoder – 30 years after surviving osteosarcoma, battling bone cancer following mid-thigh amputation of right leg August, 2010

Each mile of the three days, I will dedicate to an honoree. These come from donations. A donation of $50 allows that donor to name an honoree. Many people who have donated large amounts have not specified an honoree. So at the end of fund raising, if I still have undedicated miles, I will fill them from the honorees of people who donated less than $50, and from some remaining personal honorees that I have.

Mile By Mile Honorees

1. Ann Ritter

2. Christine Grudinskas

3. Ann Ritter

4. Ann Ritter

5. Karen Berkeland

6. Karen Berkeland

7. Karen Berkeland

8. Karen Berkeland

9. Susan Lord

10. Joe Boisvert

11. Ann Ritter

12. Pam Cope

13. Christine Grudinskas

14. Rhoda Ritter

15. Christine Grudinskas

16. Rhoda Ritter

17. Ann Ritter

18. Ann Ritter

19. Ann Ritter

20. Ann Ritter

21. Ann Ritter

22. Rhoda Ritter

23. Ann Ritter

24. Ann Ritter

25. Ann Ritter

26. Ann Ritter

27. Linda Silver

28. Pat Bausone

29. Marilyn Libman

30. Tamar Kops

31. Francis Trail Saunders

32. Lorrene DiLauro

33. Patty Lynn Sellers

34. Ruth Werner

35. Jerry Schell

36. Amy Haun

37. Donna Hammond

38. Tara Ujkaj

39. Mary Ann Faelton

40. Ann Ritter

41. Ann Ritter

42. Paula McGrath

43. Paula McGrath

44. Paula McGrath

45. Margaret Carter

46. Alice Jones

47. John Greetham

48. Laura Hershberger

49. Ann Ritter

50. Katie Hoggatt

51. Ann Ritter

52. Sue Patton

53. Sam Snader

54. Lynn Tobin

55. April Chappell

56. Marilyn Collins

57. Suman Kamat

58. Janice Wedwick

59. Bev Kuhlman

60. Ann Ritter

Other Honorees: Karen Lane; Mary Beth Gibson; Kristi Garstang; Faith Eury; Katie Rodman; Nicki Patton Morgan; Bob Tymoczko; Julie Westcott; Emma McFeeley; Pat Daly; Sherita Gibson; Kitty Garstang; Edie; Dorothy; Alan Bernstein; Sherrll Lyle; Ramamurthy Balasubramaniam; Angie Trudell; Bob Caggiano; Carrie Isman

The Price of Admission

2011-09-13T20:26:00.002-04:00

There is no way to do a long distance event like a marathon or a three day walk or an extreme distance event without some pain, suffering, and fatigue. It is part of the price of admission. Anyone who participates in these accepts this fact.

I have done everything I can think of over the past three-four months to heal my heel. And it has improved a great deal. But there is no way it is going to be healed by the time the Komen 3-Day takes place in ten days. It just isn't happening. I told the doctor yesterday was he was working on my foot that I decided that some pain from my left heel is just going to be part of the price of admission for the honor of participating in the 3-Day. It is just how it is. He agreed, saying that I've come a long way in the three months he has treated me, but that plantar fasciitis can be very stubborn. It is a hard thing to completely heal in this amount of time even if one is being sedentary. While I have not walked as much as I had hoped for, neither have I been remotely close to sedentary.

So, 10 days to go. Some heel pain - a fair amount at times. There is no getting around it. I guess I will try to take it a little easy for a while after the event. No more 10-15 mile walks for a while. But in the next 13 days, I will give it all I can and accept the ticket price.

Dress Rehersal, Part Deux

2011-09-11T11:15:00.007-04:00

After 19 miles of walking yesterday, I was wondering how much I would have left today to do some more miles. In less than two weeks, I need to have enough left in the tank to do 20 miles three days in a row. So how I would be feeling today would be a good indication. I woke up not nearly as sore and stiff as I expected. I had a little more left heel pain than usual after walking so far Saturday, but it was tolerable. Today, newlyweds Mike and Amber joined me so I would have company, and so I therefore would not need to engage every passing runner in conversation. It was another beautiful summer day, and a good day to be healthy, alive, and moving. The fact that it is the 10th anniversary of a truly terrible day in our country's history was sobering, though. I saw a number of runners decked out in red, white, and blue, or with little American flags.

I selected one of my favorite Team in Training routes - the 10 miler out and back to the Pony Pasture on the James River. We cut it a bit short and ended up doing a shade under 9 miles. All three of us had had long days yesterday - 15 miles running for Amber and Mike. They are training for the Richmond Marathon together on the Sports Backers Training Team (not to be confused with Team in Training). I felt pretty good, with tolerable soreness and no trouble moving along for the 9 miles. If I had needed to do 11 more? Well, I imagine I would have sucked it up and done it, because two weeks from today, I'll be walking my third 20 mile day in a row!

Crossing the James River on the "Nickel Bridge." This bridge has the most impressive collection of spiders that I have ever seen! See here and here for a couple of nice hikes I have done that start or end at this point.

Amber and Mike got married in May in an absolutely beautiful beach wedding in her native state of North Carolina. My wife and I agreed that Amber was one of the prettiest brides we had ever seen and wore one of the most beautiful dresses.

This "five fingers" style of running shoe, worn without socks, looks uncomfortable to me. But Mike says they are not bad on short runs. I have heard from my foot doctor that while these should not be worn exclusively, they can be good to wear for some training.

I like seeing active people out and about early weekend mornings. These folks are part of the Richmond Marathon Training Team:

Sportsbackers sure do deluxe water stops for their teams. This enthusiastic crew let us partake of refreshment along our return trip:

While I cooled my sore heel after getting home, my cat decided that ice water has more than one concurrent use!

Dress Rehearsal

2011-09-10T15:24:00.002-04:00

Any time you have a long distance event coming up - a half marathon, a marathon, a three day walk - you had better have a session or two where you come close to actually doing the event, using the clothing and gear you will have with you that day. With the Komen 3-Day just two weeks away, I was running out of time to do this. This weekend had to be it. I not only had to get in some serious miles, but I had to carry the stuff the Komen organization suggests.

This is an impressive list! Rain gear! Extra socks! First aid kit! Water bottle! Sunglasses! Bandanna! Body glide! Insect repellent! Wallet with ID, credit cards, medical card, money! Sunscreen! Hand sanitizer! Feminine hygiene products (well, OK, that is one I can cross off the list). It became clear to me some weeks back that my only realistic way to carry all this was to (a) hire a Sherpa or (b) use a good sized fanny pack. So I chose the latter and dug a very old fanny pack out of my hiking gear. It is far from the most comfortable thing in the world, but I have been wearing it on training walks for several weeks. And today, I stuffed all of the above into so I could get a good feel for what it would be like to wear it on event days.

Then, I had to come up with a route. I did not want to walk 18 miles by myself, so I planned my day into three separate routes: 7 miles with Team in Training with my friend Nicki; 5 miles by myself; and 6 miles with my friend Kristi. As it turned out, TNT was doing the good old Northside 12 miler route today: up Boulevard and Hermitage, along Bryan Park until Dunbarton; over to Staples Mill and down into the Windsor Farms neighborhood; and winding along Portland and Douglasdale back to Byrd Park. Nicki was game to do all 12 with me, and it was great to have her company. When we got back to the park, there was Kristi ready to do the remaining miles with me. All told, including the warm up and a few extra steps here and there, I walked 19 miles today, or even a little more. I feel it. My left heel hurts. My calves hurt. My hams hurt. My hips hurt. But I did it, and after an ice bath and a shower I feel semi-human again. My next test will be 10 miles tomorrow morning.

Here are some photos:

A water stop with first class service!
Nicki at Hermitage Avenue near the A.P. Hill statue:

Art at Bryan Park. I am wearing my special shirt for the last day of the 3-Day. It has a photo of my late sister Ann on it:
Lake and bridge at Bryan Park:
Kristi, me, and Nicki - all lymphoma survivors, all marathoners
Byrd Park, start and finish of so many training walks and runs over the past six years:

Kristi in front of Agecroft Hall. Just 4 miles to go!

Raining, Training, Not Complaining

2011-09-08T20:54:00.004-04:00

Since my last post about training, I haven't gotten out too much to walk. I did walk a few miles Sunday but wanted to save my next longer day for Monday. That is when I planned this great cirucit hike over Cold Mountain in Western Virginia. And it actually turned out to be perfect for Komen 3-Day training for three reasons. (1) There was a lot of uphill, gaining about 1,300 feet during the hike. Our training stresses doing a variety of conditions, including uphill and I've not done a ton of that. (2) It was raining. In fact, it rained steadily enough that I was soaked and got a blister on my toe from wet socks and too infrequently (recently) used hiking boots. Komen stresses training in all kinds of weather, and I've not done a lot in the rain. (3) Perhaps most importantly, although the hike was not too long - about seven miles - it was slow going at times with the rough trails, slippery surface, and uphill. So I was on my feet a lot, about four hours including some time exploring as we walked. Time on one's feet to walk 20 miles a day is really important.

Since Monday, it has rained every day, many times pouring. Today, I went out to walk 4 miles in my new shoes. A mile later, it started pouring. Having had plenty of time walking in the rainy mountains Monday, I didn't think anymore walking in the rain was needed today. But even so, I was soaked to the skin in less than a minute, and my fanny pack soaked through, along with the new shoes. No complaints though, all part of the experience.

The coming weekend, my plans are for a really long walk - 18 miles - followed by 10 miles on Sunday. Hopefully my left heel, which seems to bounce back fairly well even after pain now, will hold up, and I will be good to go with 60 miles starting two weeks from tomorrow morning.

Not Too Late to Change My Gait

2011-09-04T07:44:00.005-04:00

I think we take walking for granted. It is something we learn when we are between 12-18 months old and then we take it from there. It becomes automatic and fluid. If you walk somewhere around a 15-16 minute mile, you take about two steps every second without even thinking about it. But each of those steps requires a lot of separate operations between the feet and legs. There are at four separate major parts to each and every step. We all take thousands of steps every day - I've averaged about 12,000 steps a day for the past few months even with this painful foot injury - without a second thought.

Well, my doctor who is doing the Active Release Therapy decided I should take a second thought. I paid for a gait analysis a couple of days after my sixtieth birthday and learned a lot. It was difficult, especially the part in my stocking feet, because my foot was still fairly painful. We fired the treadmill up to about 15 minute mile pace for walking and 10 minute mile pace for running. Because of the upcoming Komen 3-Day, we concentrated on walking.Among the things I was doing wrong, I was overstriding and heel striking at too steep an angle. I was bobbing up and down, several inches with each stride - all wasted energy. My arm carriage was poor. I didn't have enough knee drive. My hips are too weak and this results in my hips dropping with each stride, especially when running. The doc had a couple of sessions to review the results and work with me on some drills. High steps. Skipping. Arm drive. Barefoot walking. One of the instructive parts was when he filmed me walking without shoes at a 15 minute mile pace. You basically will stride correctly or close to it in order to protect your feet. Notice how much more shallow my heel strike is in this photo as contrasted to the last one. I've worked a good bit to change my walking gait in the six weeks since the gait analysis. I feel like it is working. I know that there are times when I lapse to old patterns. But I think in general, my gait is better - more knee drive, better arm position, smoother and shallower landing, and less bounce. I'd have to be filmed again to be sure. It is tough learning to walk all over again, but I think in the long run, it will be well worth it.

Three Weeks Till the 3-Day

2011-09-03T21:01:00.003-04:00

Three weeks from right now, I'll be camped out in my little 6.5 by 6.5 foot pink tent for the second night of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. I trained today by walking nearly 11 miles, and am feeling a little discouraged. I definitely have more heel pain than I have been having, plus some pain in my left calf. I think that during next weekend's long (18 miles) walk, I am going to have to slow down a bit. Even after icing my foot, I still have a good bit of pain. Even so, I walked over 10 miles, and that would not have been reasonably possible two, three, or four months ago. And is exciting to think of this walk coming up. I just hope that I am somehow ready for it.

I walked about 4 miles on my own, and about 7 miles with my friend Lelia. We started out in Windsor Farms, a beautiful and expensive neighborhood. We walked past impressive Agecroft Hall, a huge Victorian mansion brought over from England brick by brick and stick by stick.
There were a large number of trees and branches down all over the place.
We left Windsor Farms at Lock Lane and walked all over some pretty neighborhoods on the other side of Grove, going along streets that neither Lelia nor I had ever seen before, despite our many long Richmond rambles on foot. Included was this stone house that looked like an English cottage. I considered popping in for tea, but decided that we had miles to go before we steep.

Finally, along Grove, we saw this huge tree down. It had fallen into the house on the left, causing roof damage. I cannot imagine the noise.

What’s the Worst That Could Happen?

2011-08-29T20:55:00.005-04:00

I kept thinking that the worst thing that could happen with the Komen 3-Day is if my foot wouldn’t heal enough to allow me to complete the walk. But I think that, actually, there is a worse scenario…

I wake with a start, listening to the rain drumming on the roof of the little pink tent like a heavy metal percussionist on amphetamines. What woke me? It is not my tent mate, Kermit “Frog” Greenback, for he has finally stopped talking in his sleep and is breathing heavily. It isn’t the sound of the rain pounding on the tent, louder than 100 drunken Aussies playing didgeridoos at a frat party. No, it’s the 10 gallon aquarium – complete with enraged piranhas – sloshing around in my belly. All that water I drank to stay hydrated on that hot 20 mile day has now been efficiently removed from my blood stream and urgently wishes to return to the world’s hydrologic cycle!

I listen to the rain in dread. One way or another, I am going to get really wet. But there’s no sense getting my sleeping bag and “Frog” wet too, so I hunch over in the confined space of the tent, put on my crocs to keep my walking shoes dry, unzip the tent, and crawl out into the rain. I am soaked within seconds. I look wistfully back at the dry, pink cocoon and continue forward. “Row 17, tent 13. Row 17, tent 13,” I repeat over and over. Suddenly, I trip over a tent stake and land face first in a mud puddle, sliding about 10 feet through the mud. “He’s safe!” a lady heading for the latrine calls out in jest. I stand up and spit about a gallon of water the consistency of pancake batter out of my mouth, and say a word that I am really glad that my granddaughter didn’t hear me say.

I walk on, passing two women waiting for a porta-potty. They stare at me in disgust. “Oh my God, it’s a pig-man!” one of them whispers. Her friend replies “If that guy and a three legged Shih Tzu with bucked teeth and a bad skin disease were the only contestants in a beauty contest, he wouldn’t stand a chance.” I trudge on, mud oozing from every pore and crevice of my body, and enter the porta-potty. I try to be neat and considerate, but when I leave less than a minute later, mud drips from everything. It looks like a disgruntled Keebler elf went berserk with the fudge machine.

As the driving rain washes some of the mud from my glasses, I gaze through the dark at a sea of pink tents the size of Rhode Island. I pick up my mantra as I walk. “Row 13, tent 17. Row 13, tent 17.” They all look the same in the rainy darkness, but I find my tent. I don’t want to get my sleeping bag muddy. So I strip to my skivvies in the rain, wring out tomorrow’s walking clothes the best I can, and crawl into the tent and sleeping bag. Despite being wet, muddy, and nasty, I quickly drift off to sleep.

I wake abruptly when something heavy lands on me, followed by piercing screams in the ink-like night. I quickly realize three things: (1) it is a woman screaming, (2) she is lying on top of me, and (3) she is screaming “There’s a half-naked, muddy man in my sleeping bag!” Just as rapidly, Kermit springs from his sleeping bag and starts screaming his head off. Except (1) it is not Kermit and (2) it is not a he! The two women race around the little pink tent like a couple of deranged kinkajous until it collapses like a herd of water buffalo ran over it. Trampled, muddy, soaked, and horrified, I follow them into the rainy night, and stand shivering in my underwear. “Oh crap, wrong tent!” I think in misery.

Women, and a few men, are streaming from their tents like army ants converging on a cockroach - me! They are not happy. They are not smiling. They are not laughing. In fact, they are seriously angry. Within minutes, the police arrive, and start asking me for my ID, which is back in my actual tent. I spy Kermit in the gathering crowd – at six foot-four and sporting a goat-vomit green Mohawk, he is hard to miss. “Hey, that guy’s my tent mate! Frog, tell them!”

Kermit affirms my plight. “Yeah, it’s true, he’s my tent mate: Art. Our tent is over here, and his ID must be in that.“ Then, he adds, “But Art, sneaking into those women’s tent, that’s just wrong! It’s wrong, man!”

The police warily lead me over to my tent, and I retrieve my ID. I spend an hour or so explaining to the police and race staff why I ended up in the wrong tent, trade sleeping bags with the woman whose bag is now caked with mud, help them erect their tent – it looks like a rhinoceros used it for a mud wallow - and collect my soaked, muddy walking clothes. Around 4AM, everyone settles in to not sleep the remaining hour or so we have left before getting up to walk 20 more miles.

“What a mess!” says Kermit. “Man, it isn’t easy being pink!”

“Sorry about that, Frog,” I say as I dig a clump of mud out of my left ear and toss it outside the tent like it was a dead mouse. “I didn’t mean to cause such a big mess. I just had to go to the bathroom for a second.”

“No problem, man – honest mistake. But you do this walk again, you might just want to stay in a hotel! At least you’ll be able to get to the bathroom and back to bed without starting an international incident.”

....Oh yeah, that would be worse!

Disrupted Training

2011-08-28T21:04:00.005-04:00

Hurricane Irene raised havoc with a lot of things the weekend, the least of which was probably my training schedule. She washed out my training yesterday. We lost power last night (now back after 26 hours - really lucky) and that kind of messed things up for this morning. But I decided to go out and walk 9 miles this afternoon. I had planned on 26 miles this weekend, so compared to the 12 I did walk, it was a big adjustment. But at least I got some walking in, and the 9 miles this afternoon with a hot sun beating down for much of it didn't seem hard. So although it is late in the game, training is coming along. I have only one more chance at really long miles - the weekend of 9/10 - and had better take advantage of it. But given that even a few miles two or three months ago was painful, I am happy.

Here are some photos of tropical storm damage during my walk today.
Downed trees block my path.
This good side tree was uprooted and fell across the trail. Sycamore seed pods lying on the trail. The entire trail was covered with leaves, little branches, and seed pods.

Mean Queen Irene

2011-08-27T08:21:00.003-04:00

When even the Team in Training folks are not out and about on a Saturday morn, you know the weather must be bad. I'd planned to walk 14-15 miles today. I had one friend joining me for the walk, and a second joining us for the middle 7 miles. When I left my home at 5:55 to meet them, I already had a message, which I listened to as I parked at the meeting point 20 minutes later. It was my friend Debbie, who lives on the southside. Her message was that it was already raining steadily and pretty nasty, and she was not coming. As I listened to her message, the first drops hit my windshield, and within minutes, I was walking in a steady rain. I called Lelia, who was going to meet us at 7:00.

We agreed that it was not a good day for a walk. I decided to keep going until I reached Byrd Park where Team in Training links up every Saturday. In the six seasons I have trained with TNT, I can remember two cancelled trainings - back to back major snowstorms. A few others were shortened when thunderstorms rolled in. But when I got to Byrd Park after a mile or so of walking, it was deserted. I was soaked and had only seen two other runners the whole way. This is a sign to just go home, relax, and walk another day. And that is just what I did.

What a week in Virginia - a big earthquake on Tuesday, and now a hurricane. The earthquake shook my office building like a terrier shaking a rat, with us being the rat. Here in Richmond, we don't expect hurricane force winds, but we should get plenty of rain and some wind. I feel a bit like I wimped out, but I can always mix in some treadmill and eliptical miles later.

A Surprise Goosing

2011-08-25T22:12:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, I met my friend Lelia for a four miler after work. Lelia and I trained last year with Team in Training as "runalkers." Right now, I am walking only to prepare for the Komen 3-Day in four weeks, and she has walked with me a number of times in support.

So, I was waiting for Lelia at Byrd Park. I walked a lap around the lake to warm up. I did some Achilles stretches as I watched people enjoying the park. Among them were a woman and a couple of little kids feeding the Canadian geese, of which there were several dozen in the lake. The kids were maybe three and five. Now, I don't want to say that the lady was large, but let's just say that her knickers were made out of the mainsail of the USS Constitution!

There was a lip of stone along the lakeshore, and the waterline of the lake itself was maybe 2-3 feet below the stone. Suddenly, a goose exactly in front of the lady and her kids flapped its wings rapidly, making a sound like the Space Shuttle on steroids. And in the same motion, it launched through the air like a heat seeking missile and landed on the lip of stone just a few feet from the people. The lady let out a shriek that would have shattered the glass at the National Aquarium - several car alarms went off. The shrieking had no effect on the errant goose, which stood at the edge of the lake honking in triumph. As the lady was shrieking, she turned and started running away. Well, the act of screaming and running - plus the goose - scared the hell out of the little kids, and they started screaming and crying. There was a little rise to get back to the road, and as she ran, the lady slipped and started to fall. She regained her balance, but not before her pants came partially down, exposing her impressively vast knickers. All the while, the kids were wailing!

It was all pretty hilarious to watch since no one got hurt. But I felt bad for the little kids, who were genuinely scared. Plus they probably have an unnecessary fear of Canada geese now, which is too bad. They took to feeding pigeons, which are a lot smaller than geese, and the kids would still scream when a pigeon got too close. It was a good reminder how children learn both good and bad things by watching adults.

One Month to Go!

2011-08-23T18:34:00.003-04:00

It is hard to believe that in exactly one month, if all continues to work out, I’ll be walking about 20 miles on the first day of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in the Washington, DC area. The walk starts very early in the morning at the National’s baseball stadium in the Southeast part of the city.

A month ago, I was walking a few miles at a time. A month before that, I was not walking at all except for what I would call incidental walking. In the past four days, I have walked 27 miles: 12 on Saturday, 10 on Sunday, and five this morning. Yes, my heel hurts at times, but even at its worse, it is not as painful as day to day was earlier this summer and spring.

The plantar fasciitis has been part of my life for four months now, and I’ve been getting active treatment for it for about 2.5 months. This was the ART (Active Release Therapy) that I have mentioned before. I got that today, with the starting point of a sore heel from the five mile walk. The treatment was moderately painful this morning, so there is still inflammation and scar tissue in that left heel.

The plantar fascias in both feet are much more flexible than they were two months ago, when they were like taut steel cables. I continue to work on a bunch of stuff most days to make more progress. In fact, my doctor today stressed how increasingly important that is, since I am only getting the ART once a week now.

One month to go! I feel that I can continue to walk enough to get strong and durable enough to walk for the three days, and I feel blessed about that. It will be a very emotional time, and I will mourn my sister’s death as I walk. But overall, I am so glad to be doing this walk for this cause.

A Soothing Massage

2011-08-17T21:42:00.003-04:00

Ah, there is nothing like a soothing, deep-tissue massage. The relaxing new age music that makes you want to drift off. The aromatic, warm oil lightly massaged into your sore muscles. The agonizing feeling of having your muscles, tendons, and ligaments slowly ripped from your femur!

Yesterday, I had my active release therapy treatment for my heel. It was barely painful, but all of my walking this past weekend – 18 miles – had given me some soreness in my left hamstring tendon. Every three visits my health insurance allows a 30 minute massage, and the masseuse that they use is really good. Yesterday being my third appointment since a massage, I went in to the little massage room. “I’ll leave, and you can take your trousers off. The doc said I need to work a bit on that hamstring,” she said.

It started off well – the oils, the music, a light probing touch, focusing on my left foot and tight calf. Then she moved up to the hamstring – a little more painful – and started digging in. “If it hurts, take a deep breath and then…” she started to say, before going silent as I breathed in so deeply so as to remove all of the oxygen in that zip code. When I looked back to see her turning blue, I breathed out. “.... breathe out slowly,” she gasped.

Her strong fingers started digging deep into my hamstring, finding a knot of muscle that must have looked like a python that had swallowed a large feral hog, along with its parents and grandparents. Wow, that hurt! “You know, try some visualizations,” she said, somehow picking up on my discomfort. “That might help.”

“Like what?” I stammered through gritted teeth. “Well, like a peaceful field, with flowers,” she suggested.

Yes, a nice field! I can see it now! It is golden in the sun, with beautiful flowers. A gentle breeze is blowing. Birds are singing. I felt myself relaxing. Ahhhh! Oh, look, there’s a zebra in the field. No, it is a herd of zebra – they are so beautiful! Owww! Holy crap, a group of lions just attacked a zebra and are ripping it shreds as it neighs in agony! Wait a second, that is me neighing in agony! “The visualization isn’t working so great,” I wail. “Try a stream,” she says. “I think if I start visualizing a stream, I am going to see a huge crocodile tearing the leg off a wildebeest, or something like that,” I moan.

She starts tearing into the knot of muscle again with fingers of titanium. “How did I get a big knot like that in my hamstring?” I ask. “Probably scar tissue from an old injury,” she explains. “Try to relax, it makes it easier if the muscles are not all tense.”

Easier for what, I wonder? Easier to tear my strong muscles into a quivering, jelly-like mass of glop?

“Well, I think I’m done with this area,” she states. “Thank God, because I don’t think I could take much more of it,” I wanted to say, but I just give some kind of strangled monosyllabic reply. I’d been seconds away from offering her $100 to stop.

“Now, this area is going to be pretty sore tomorrow, so ice it a lot and take some Ibuprophin if you need to. You may have noticed that I dug in pretty deep at times,” she says. “Yes, I did notice. What gave that away? Was it the way I squirmed a bit? Was it the way I had a hard time relaxing? Or was it when I screamed so loudly that all the glass in the building shattered, and I dug my fingernails through the drywall there?” I asked. “The latter,” she said. “Make sure you drink plenty of water.” “What about wine – like a couple of liters of wine?” I asked, receiving no reply.

I got dressed, tipped her, and limped out to the car. And she was right, it was not only sore today, but all of yesterday, although I was able to walk about 3.5 miles last night. And ice has been a frequent companion to my left hamstring last night and today.

I’ve poked a little fun at my treatment (and at myself), but rest assured, she does an excellent job, and I’ll be back. But the next time I go in there with a sore area, I might just keep that knowledge to myself!

My Physical Therapy Regimen

2011-08-16T21:01:00.004-04:00

I've been going to the chiropractor for about two months now for ART (Active Release Therapy), and as reported several times earlier, it is finally working. The heel pain varies, but even on the worst days now, it is a lot better than the best days before, starting about a month ago. Today, I feel almost no pain at all when walking. Last Saturday, walking 10 miles, I had moderate pain at times, and I iced the hell out of my heel that day. The very next day, walking 8 miles, I had very little pain.

It's the same way with the ART - when he digs into that heel, hitting the exact sore spot, it always hurts. But several times lately, it was just normal pain. Other times, it hurts quite a bit. But at no time recently has it hurt the way it did two months ago, when I about shrieked like a little kid who's mom took away his ice cream cone.

Along the way, the doctor has added exercises and stretches, which I try to do most days, even though I usually miss one or two of them. In rough order of assignment, the last couple being assigned last week, these now include:

Foot and Achilles stretch (2 sets 4-5 times a day)

Foot roll (roll sore foot on frozen water bottle or foot log)

Slow heel drop (forefeet on step, drop heels slowly to count of six, bring heels back up to count of three - repeat 10 times)

Towel stretch (sit on floor with legs out, loop a towel over one foot and pull back)

Marble pick up - pick up flower pot glass stones with toes. I'm a pro at this now, and have minimal trouble with either foot. I can pick up 50 stones in about 2.5 minutes with my left foot, and about 3 minutes with my right).

Side planks (Get in side plank position and 15 dips each side, then hold the plank for 30 seconds)

Side leg raises (lie on side, raise leg slowly and lower slower, repeat 15 times - 2 sets each leg)

Front planks (I do these with my forearms down, which I can hold for up to 3 minutes; I also do them hands on floor and lower half way down, like being partway through a push up. I can only hold that about 30-40 seconds)

Runner stretch (for upper calf)

Single leg squats (repeat 5 times each leg, trying to get close to 90 degrees - although it is more like 110 degrees for me most of the time)

Four way elastic band (heavy elastic band anchored under the door, 10 repeats each of four ways each leg: (1) to the left (2) to the right (3) forward (4) backwards

That's quite a list. Many of these are for the hips (abductors and adductors) because these muscles are weak with me and many other runners and walkers. Weak hips can cause many problems, including contributing to plantar fasciitis. Well, time to go do a few of these - later!

A Training Milestone, and a Double-Digit Day

2011-08-13T14:25:00.003-04:00

For nearly four months now, I should have been walking my butt off. For nearly four months now, I have spent much of the time feeling that someone was hammering a nail into my left heel with every step because of plantar fasciitis. So for nearly four months now, I have not done consistent training for this long walk that is now just 40 days away.

But this past week, I hit a training milestone - for the first time, I managed to walk every single day that I was supposed to, even if the miles were not what they should have been according to the schedule:

Saturday - 8 miles
Sunday - 5 miles
Monday - 1 hour of water aerobics on a rest day
Tuesday - 4.5 miles
Wednesday - 30 minutes of weights on a cross training day
Thursday - 5 miles
Friday - rest day
Today - 10 (ta-da!) miles

That is nearly 33 miles of actual walk training in the last 8 days, and my first double-digit day on my feet in I don't know how long - certainly of 2011 due to the foot surgery and plantar fasciitis. That is the good news. The bad news is that the pain in my heel got a little more severe as each walk was done and the week went by. It is not as bad as it was, but today it hurts the most in a while, despite Ibuprophin and ice. Tomorrow, if I am up to it, I am going to try 8 more miles.

So, mixed results, but all in all, the glass is at least half full.

Today, I walked about 7.5 miles with my friend, Lelia. We improvised a route all around Richmond's near West End. Before Lelia and I linked up, I walked 2.5 miles by myself and ended up visiting with the Fall Team in Training Team at Byrd Park for a couple of seconds. That felt like a little bonus for getting this walk in today. What a great bunch of people!

The Joy of a Peach

2011-08-10T21:27:00.001-04:00

Did you ever eat a peach that was so sweet, so juicy, so delicious, so pleasurable that you were tempted to smoke a cigarette afterwards (even if you don’t smoke)? I was reminded of such a peach the other week when I bought a peck of peaches from an orchard in scenic Northwestern Virginia. These peaches were really good, and I was sad to see the last one disappear. They were so sweet and so juicy that you almost needed a bath after eating one. And they made me think back nine years….

In the summer of 2002, I was in the early phases of my chemo for Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and feeling pretty ill most of the time. I could stomach some meat but mostly starchy foods – cereal, rice, soup, and so forth. I could not eat fruit or vegetables, despite my normal love of them, most of the time without immediately wanting to hurl. After trying a few times, I just realized that fruits and vegetables were not going to be part of my diet. I wondered if they would ever taste good again.

Then one July day, one I remember so clearly, I had been off chemo an extra week because it had made me so sick I got hospitalized. So my oncologist gave me the additional week to try to regain some strength. And this particular day, I was in the kitchen, and I looked at these peaches that had ripened nicely, and I said to myself, “You know, I am feeling pretty good. I wonder how one of these peaches would taste?” So I decided to find out.

I picked one up, sniffed it, and the smell did not seem sickening to me. I hesitated a second, and then bit into it. The juice ran down my chin. The taste, after such a bland diet for over a month, was incredible – like an explosion of deliciousness in my mouth! I almost felt like weeping with joy! I slowly savored every bite, licking the juice from my fingers, and then I ate another one. It was just as delicious. And it suddenly hit me.

It is the little things in life, whether we remember each of them or not, that make life worth living. The smile of a child as she wraps her hand in yours. A stolen kiss. A memorable meal. A family get-together. A wonderful book that you read. A gorgeous butterfly or bird. A walk in the woods. A beautiful piece of music that you heard. A conversation with a friend. A sweet, ripe, juicy peach.

Now, many of these moments are not going to be remembered in every detail the way I remember that peach of nine years ago, a peach that made me feel normal for a few minutes while I forgot how sick I was and how many hard times were yet to come. But trust me – with a few exceptions, these are the moments that have made your life what it is. They are the moments that make you, you. And you wouldn’t trade them for any amount of money.

Finally, Weekend Training!

2011-08-06T14:11:00.002-04:00

Finally, just seven weeks before the three day Komen walk, I was able to do some weekend training. Although plantar fasciitis is far from the worst thing in the world - and probably doesn't even make a list of the top 100 bad things - it has been a real pain, literally and figuratively.

I should be walking 14 miles today. Given that my longest distance to date since getting PF is about 5 miles, that would have been beyond stupid. So I walked about eight miles, nearly six of it with my friend Lelia. We walked in the beautiful Windsor Farms neighborhood. Next time, I will bring a camera. The weather was pretty warm but not sweltering.

It feels so good to be walking again with minimal heel pain. My heel definitely feels some discomfort after the walk. I iced my entire left foot for five minutes, and the heel for five minutes more. I took some "vitamin I" (Ibuprophin). I did some massage with my foot log. If all feels pretty good, I will walk five miles tomorrow morning. And each weekend, I will add a mile or two. If in four weeks, it is looking like I am not going to get close to 20 miles by the time of the walk in Washington, I'll consider switching to the Philadelphia walk. That is my home town, and it is three weeks later, and an extra three weeks for rest and training could be crucial.

But for now, four months since I signed up for this walk, three+ months after getting plantar fasciitis, and more than two months since my sister's death, I am feeling happy and positive about getting some real miles in, and hope to cross double digits in the next week or two.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

2011-08-02T05:23:00.003-04:00

"You have plantar fasciitis? When I had that, it took me over a year to get over it!" I received many such comments over the past few months, each of them making me increasingly nervous. I didn't have a year. I had a few months at the most, with the 60 mile 3-day walk for a cure coming up on September 23.

In the three months and a week since I discovered that I have PF in my left foot, I've been trying everything I can think of to get over it. Probably the most significant thing was to start with Doctor Green and the active release therapy (ART) two months ago. The progress was slower than he or I wanted, but it finally seems to all be paying off. And progress has suddenly been rapid, after 6 weeks or so where it moved at the pace of a glacier. It was July 16, the day of the TNT Silent Mile that I finally walked more than a couple of miles. In the 2.5 weeks since, I have noticed less and less pain. Yesterday morning, I walked 4 miles, and realized that I didn't get a little shock of pain with each step. It was more a feeling of discomfort than pain, although I had some minor pain at the end.

During my ART session yesterday, it still hurt when Dr. Green dug his fingers into the sore spot on my heel. But it was not the near agonizing "drive a railroad spike into my heel with a sledgehammer" kind of pain that it has been as recently as my last time (July 22). And when I roll my foot on a frozen water bottle or my foot log, it hurts when the sore area of my heel rolls over it - but not as much. I also stopped wearing the uncomfortable night splint the middle of last week. When I roll out of bed to head to the bathroom, I might hobble for a step or two - but don't almost fall over from sharp pain as I previously did.

I am feeling quite encouraged by all of this. After three months of not being able to walk without pain, I finally can! With the 3-Day just 53 days away, there is no time to lose. My training schedule calls for something like 14 miles Saturday and 12 miles Sunday. That would be crazy to attempt, so I am going to try for seven and five. Seven will be the most since my painful 7 mile walk in Washington, DC to pay respects to our former neighbor's son three months ago, and it will be a good test of whether or not I can start adding miles each week to prepare.

Nine Weeks to the Three Day

2011-07-22T20:56:00.002-04:00

Nine weeks from today, two months from tomorrow, the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure gets underway in Washington, DC. When I signed up for this three and a half months ago, no way would I have thought how difficult this would turn out to be. But my crystal ball was cloudy that day.

I envisioned easily strolling along mile after mile, doing short walks during the week and long walks on weekends, seeing what friends would join in to keep me company, or even seeing if some local people doing the 3-Day would want to link up and train. Instead, I have been sidelined with plantar fasciitis for nearly three months. While not the worst thing in the world, it has been amazingly painful.

I feel grateful and blessed that I can finally walk several miles at a time, still with pain, but not feeling like a spike is being driven into my left heel. I am doing everything I can think of to try to get better. I should be walking 14 miles tomorrow, but that won't happen. I hope that within a month, my foot will be well enough to do back to back 10 or 12 mile walks.

It is stressful that I only have two months to prepare. While three 20 mile days is far from easy, it would not have been too bad for me had things been normal. But they are not, and while this is discouraging, it is far from the end of the world. At least I can start walking some miles again. And actually, I have been walking every day - just not intense and continuous miles. According to my pedometer, I have walked approximately 596 miles since April 4, an average of 5.46 miles a day - injured or not. So if I can start doing some long days soon, and my foot holds up, I can do this!

Shake and Bake

2011-07-21T20:43:00.002-04:00

Well, I don't know about the shake part, but I got the bake down pat. After finally walking this past weekend, nearly five miles Saturday and four Sunday, my foot didn't hurt too much worse. I've walked a little during the week, and today, I met my friend Lelia for the first time since my plantar fasciitis developed. We walked about 3.25 miles at a steady but not too fast pace, maybe about a 17 or 18 minute mile.

It was hotter than hell. I was soaked in sweat just walking the five blocks from my office to my car to meet Lelia. I had a bottle of ice with me to walk with, and it all melted in less than 30 minutes. I am guessing that the temperature was high 90's with lots of humidity. It was miserable but Lelia told me that it got to 125 F in her husband's place of work yesterday, so it made our hour of walking in the heat pretty tame.

I don't see the plantar fasciitis going away any time soon. I've done everything I've been asked to do, and it just stubbornly hangs in there. Maybe by walking slowly and just reconcilling that my foot will hurt, perhaps a lot, I can get through the 60 mile walk, which starts in two months and two days. At any rate, I am going to have to try to walk more and more and see where it goes. They say to train in all kinds of weather, not just the nice days, and today was a good example of that!

Silent Sixty

2011-07-16T12:05:00.009-04:00

Today was the Silent Mile get-together for the Fall Teams for Team in Training Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Charlottesville. The cycle, marathon, and triathlon teams all gather for this, and coaches talk about some of the things that the money raised is going to. One of the ladies on the Richmond team has already raised over $11,000, which is amazing! Then some of the patient honorees say a few words of thanks, and every one does the first mile or so in silence - reflecting on the mission, the goal of curing cancer, and those fighting the hard fight to survive their ordeal. With my sister's recent death, I was reminded of her over and over again this morning. I listened to the wood thrushes singing in the forests along the route. It was one of her favorite birds. I miss her so much.

It was also my Big Six-O today, and so I got a card signed by many present, and also there was a "Happy Birthday" poster made by the LLS staff. That was pretty cool. What a great bunch of folks to see on my birthday morning. I decided to try walking a bit, and walked almost five miles with my friend Nicki. She was married a couple of months ago, so I got to hear about her wonderful wedding. Afterwards, there was a potluck breakfast, which was really good. It also felt good to walk this far - the longest distance since I got plantar fasciitis nearly three months ago. I've come to the conclusion that I have to start walking and just see where it leads, with a sixty mile walk only 10 weeks away.

Here is my birthday poster, using a photo from my last TNT event, the Seattle Half Marathon in June, 2010.

Let's kick cancer's butt!

Some of the team starting out on the "silent mile:"

Reminders of why we work so hard to train and raise money:

This poster, with Coach Chuck in the background, features a message from my friend and teammate Ed Stone, and from yours truly. Ed is currently battling melanoma, his fourth bout with cancer at age 41.

Nicki and I first met through TNT about five or six years ago. She is a 14+ year lymphoma survivor, alive by means of a bone marrow transplant. She is awesome!

A Final Fifties Walk

2011-07-15T21:07:00.003-04:00

My plantar fasciitis is somewhat less painful nearly three months after it first cropped up, and I decided that I should try a short walk. So I got up a little early yesterday and went outside to take a two mile walk. After a week or so of horrendously hot weather, it was a delightful morning - about 60 degrees F. and low humidity.

This would be my last walk as a fifty-something year old. When I think of how many thousands of miles I have walked and run in my fifties, most of them since surviving cancer, it is a little anti-climatic to have the last walk be two measly miles with a sore foot. But so be it - at least I was finally walking a little, something more than a third of a mile from the parking lot to work.

I walked slowly - about a 17 minute mile pace, which is a good 3-4 minutes off my fastest sustainable walking pace. My foot hurts a little more when I try to walk fast. It still seems like such a huge hill to climb to be able to walk 60 miles in a little more than two months, but I must find a way. But Wednesday, there was no point worrying about all that. I just enjoyed being able to walk a couple of miles on a cool morning. My foot hurt a little more during the day - I ended up walking over 16,000 steps for the day - but it seems no worse for wear today. So I talked to the doctor about starting to add some walking, and he agreed. I'll see how that goes, and keep my fingers crossed.

Big Six-OOOOO, here I come! What will the next decade of life bring?

A Million Steps, Sore Foot and All

2011-07-10T06:38:00.004-04:00

Preparing for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure hasn't worked out at all like I had planned. Instead of taking long walks five times a week, by myself and with the many friends who have said let me know when I want to walk, I've been stretching, picking up marbles with my toes, wearing a boot at night, and doing some (but not enough) cross training. But even so, I've walked enough to cross the 1,000,000 step count on Friday.

I started carrying my trusty Omron pedometer on April 4, 25 weeks before the walk in Washington DC. I wanted to see how many see how many steps I would take between then and the walk. In those first three weeks, I averaged about 12,500 steps a day, and then the plantar fasciitis kicked in big time. Since then, not only have I not walked a lot, I have not increased the miles each week as I should be doing. Even so, for the nearly 14 weeks I have been recording my steps, I've averaged 10,600 steps a day in mostly "incidental" walking. Since taking my long 7 mile walk in Washington DC on May 4, my longest walk has only been about 2 miles.

But those incidental steps add up, and now I've gone past a million. I wonder where my step count would be had I not gotten the injury? But the bigger question is how will I possibly get in enough miles in the 11 weeks remaining before the 60 mile walk if this sore foot doesn't heal?

Mission Moment for the Fall Team

2011-07-09T11:40:00.002-04:00

So, if you can't really walk or run yourself, what might you do on a Saturday morning? Well, I called Coach Chuck, marathon coach of the fall Team in Training team, and asked him if he would like me to do a water stop or two, and a mission moment. The answer was yes, and so I was at the boat lake at Byrd Park at 6:30 AM. I got to catch up with several friends I hadn't seen in a while, including fellow survivors Nicki and Mindy. It was a nice looking crew they got training for various fall events, including Dublin (green being an appropriate color for Ireland and jealousy!)

I told the team about my friend Linda. She has been dealing with three kinds of cancer since she was 29, multiple times. She is now 62. When she had A.L.L. 33 years ago, survival rates were nil, but with experimental drugs, Linda survived. It was a terrible ordeal. Her uncle watched her daughter for 11 months, and her boss kept her job open and paid her mortgage. Into her 30's, she relapsed and went through it all again. Then in her 40's, the chemo she got for the ALL caused non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and later, breast cancer. She has had multiple occurrences of both of these, and a lot of suffering. In a note to me this week, Linda told me that she feels totally defeated and is just hoping to see her 63rd birthday in August. She said "tell the team to keep moving for people like me who can't."

Linda has endured tremendous suffering over the last three decades and this continues. It is past time to find cures that work, first time, every time, and without causing other cancers and such intense suffering.

Losing my Marbles!

2011-07-03T20:17:00.004-04:00

So, Friday a week ago, my active release therapy doctor grabs a jar of marbles, indoor flowerpot stones actually, and sprinkles about 40 of them on the floor. “Pick ‘em up, and put them back in the jar,” he says. “No, with your left toes, not your hands!” It seemed impossible. My toes don’t seem to have a lot of curl, flexibility, or strength, but I gave them a try. It seemed to take about 10 minutes, but ultimately, I got them in the jar without cheating too much. “Practice!” said the good doctor.

So, on the way home, I stopped at Target and bought a jar of them. And I started practicing that night. I didn’t try over the weekend during travels to New York State for my sister’s memorial service, but picked it up again last Tuesday and had been doing it at least once a day. I added my right foot, which was so pathetic that it made my left foot seem great, ironically enough. Maybe it is because all of the work on my left foot has improved its flexibility.

The first few times I tried this, my hands and face were screwed up so tight, like one of the first year students at the Hogwarts School in “Harry Potter” trying to turn a frog into a teacup. “Marbelum leviosa!” I would mutter under my breath, lips and face tight as a drum. It didn’t seem to help. I was terrible at it.

I’ve seen little improvement in my foot pain, but here is one area that I have seen a ton of improvement in: picking up marbles! In less than a week of really doing this, I have gotten fairly good at picking them up with my left foot. I collected 40 of them today in about 2:50. My right foot is still pathetic, but not as much so. So, I will keep on collecting my marbles with my foot, and expect to see improved toe strength and flexibility. Who knew that losing one’s marbles could be so useful?

On Deck for the Cure

2011-06-30T07:31:00.004-04:00

The day my sister died, May 30, I was on a cruise to Canada on the MS Maasdam. That night, we got a flyer at our cabin talking about "On Deck for the Cure," a 5K walk around the deck to support the Susan G. Komen organization in its fight against incurable breast cancer. The fee was $15, and we got a tee-shirt and a pink wrist band. Naturally, I signed up.

The day of the walk - 12 laps around the deck - about 50 or 60 of us showed up, including several breast cancer survivors. Because of my heel, I'd not walked in weeks, but pounded away trying to keep warm in the blustery winds. It meant a lot to me to do this walk just days after Ann's death. It did make my heel worse, though.

With less than a half lap to go, a friend of mine suddenly popped out with his camer and snapped these two shots.

Tiny Plantar Progress?

2011-06-28T17:04:00.005-04:00

I am almost afraid to think it, much less say it, but I think there has been some progress regarding my left foot. Not that it is healed, but the pain is not quite as much when walking my very limited walking. For example, yesterday I was in a car for nine hours returning from my sister's memorial service, and anytime I would stop to get out, it was not bad. Normally, the plantar fasciitis is quite painful for those first few dozen steps after sitting for a while, but not yesterday, and not today. No, I don't feel like taking a long walk or anything like that, but nor am I walking with bad limp for those first few steps. And the last couple of times I used my foot log, grinding my heel into it, the pain was much less.

I mentioned that to the doctor today when I went in for another round, my seventh, of ART. He was pleased by that as he drove a small railroad spike into my heel - just what it feels like, I imagine. He said that the plantar fascia still needs to lengthen but my Achilles tendon and my calf are definitely not as tight as they were. Afterwards, my heel has hurt all day, but not quite as much as it usually does after the ART session.

He added a couple of little tricks to my repetoire Friday - spelling the alphabet with my heel and picking up marbles with my left toes. The latter takes a long time, as the "marbles" are fairly flat indoor flower pot stones, and my toes don't have tremendous flexibility or strength. But here is the interesting thing - each time I do the marble pick-up, I can do it, even though it may take a number of attempts for each stone. But I can't do it at all with my right foot, which is my good foot. So all of the intensive therapy on the left foot seems to be helping with its flexibility and strength.

The other day, I visualized walking pain free - I know that I will do this sometime, and the results for the last few days make me feel like I am heading towards that milestone. Doing this walk in September in my sister's memory is so important to me, and I am going to need to find a way to make this happen.

Three Months to Go

2011-06-25T05:41:00.006-04:00

Three months from today, plans are to walk the final 20 miles of my three day, 60-mile walk for Susan G. Komen in the fight against breast cancer. If the walk were today, I would not be able to do it - my foot is still too sore from this persistent plantar fasciitis that I've now had for two months. I've had two weeks - six treatments - of the active release therepy, each quite painful. I wear the night splint every night - it is the most uncomfortable thing! I do the foot and Achilles stretches 4-6 times a day. I roll my foot on my foot log twice a day, and on a frozen water bottle a time or two. The net result so far is that I think - and it might be wishful thinking - that my foot does not hurt quite as much with each step.

I am still not walking for effect. I do average about 10,000 steps a day of what I would call incidental walking. I have shortened my stride and slowed down more, because it causes less pain on the heel strike. Every now and then, someone will even pass me on the street, which is annoying, the male competitor in me must say!

Yesterday, the doctor added me spelling the alphabet with my foot, using exaggerated motions to flex my foot towards and away from my shin. He also added me picking up marbles - indoor flower landscaping stones actually - with my toes to improve foot strength. I can't curl my toes well, so it is difficult. But I did it slowly and I could see sticking with it and getting better at it.

I cannot imagine not doing this walk after raising all this money and telling my sister months ago that I would be doing it. She is gone now. I can't tell her I changed my mind because of some pain. So I need to get this healed as soon as I can and start walking again. The Komen 3-Day coaches are switching my training schedule from the 24 week calendar to 16 week calendar, which given that I have 13 weeks left, is a better fit for someone coming off an injury.

Oh, I have four friends doing an ironman triathlon this Sunday in Idaho - how cool is that?

Art Meets the Art of A.R.T.

2011-06-19T06:54:00.002-04:00

"Have you checked out Active Release Therapy (ART)?" my runner friend Michelle asked me. "It was suggested to me after a hamstring tear, when it just wasn't healing. It hurts like the devil, but I swear by it." So I checked it out here, and amazingly enough, one of the local practitioners of it was a doctor whom another runner friend, Susan, was recommending that very day. So I made an appointment for last Monday.

I really liked Dr. Green. He is an athlete, and seemed very knowledgeable about my injury and others like it. He told me that it might take a while, but we could get this fixed. Then he started right in on my left heel. So what is A.R.T.? In layman's terms, it is like a very deep, very intensive, very concentrated, very painful muscle movement and massage technique. The goal is to attack the scar tissue that is binding things up and break it down. And attack it he did! I felt like he was driving a railroad spike into my heel with a sledge hammer. "This is going to hurt some," he said after a few minutes of amazing pain, as he dug his thumbs into my heel deep enough to reach, oh, about mid-calf level. I shrieked like a tween-aged girl at a Justin Bieber concert. OK, I didn't really shriek, but I wanted to! At one point, I did let a mild obscenity fly from my lips.

Afterwards, he showed me the stretch he wants me to do two sets of five times a day, telling me that my Plantar fascia, Achilles tendon, and calf muscles on both feet and legs are very tight. He also wants me to roll my foot, toes to heel, on a frozen ice water bottle or on the foot log that I had just bought. Then he had an assistant do ultrasound on my heel and electric shock stimulation on my left calf, which promotes breakdown of scar tissue and healing.

I came back on Wednesday - my treatment plan calls for three days of tortu - er, treatment - three times a week for several weeks, then twice a week for several more. I said to Dr. Green how I had told friends that I had been to see Dr. Marquis de Sade. He has a sense of humor, because he did laugh. The painful treatment was more of the same, as was Friday. Each time, my heel hurt like hell all the rest of the day and the part of the next day. But I have faith that this will work, in time. He didn't want me to do some of the stuff for now that the other doctor had me doing, and no hard-core walking. An exercise bike and elliptical - if it doesn't hurt - are good for now, so I've done those three times this week.

As a bonus, I found out that my health insurance provider allows a 30 minute deep tissue massage every third treatment - with no extra co-pay - for this type of injury, so I got that on Friday, which was great!

So that is how I was introduced to the art of A.R.T. I have high hopes that after nearly two months of having this injury essentially cripple me, it will be the start of turning things around and getting walking again. I am not even going to run a single step until after my 3 Day Komen walk!

100 Days and Counting

2011-06-16T21:05:00.003-04:00

I should be panicking, but I'm not - at least not a lot. The Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure is 100 days from today, and I still can't walk even a short distance without considerable pain in my left heel. It is discouraging and frustrating. I have raised nearly $6,000 for the walk. My sister Ann - my main honoree and inspiration for doing this walk - is deceased now. It is not like I want to say "Well, sorry everyone, but my foot hurts - a lot - and so I decided not to go through with my committment."

I am doing some small things. I am taking 7,000 to 12,000 steps a day according to my pedometer. I am just not walking any distance at a time, but at least I am getting some time on my feet. I am continuing to take the stairs at work, because the pressure when I climb stairs is on my forefoot, not my heel. I've put in some time on an exercise bike, and plan more of that. I had a doctor tell me that I am overstriding, based on shoe wear, and so I am trying to shorten my stride and get used to that so that when I can walk for effect, I will be ahead of the game in shortening my stride. And I am doing a lot of stretching, and using some other techniques in the last week, such as a foot log, which is painful but is supposed to help.

And this week, I got introduced to ART! Who is ART? Well, it is what, not who. More about that later. Suffice to say that I have faith that somehow in the next few weeks, I can start some short walks of a mile or two at least, and go from there. In just 100 days, I have to somehow be able to walk 60 miles in three days. That would be impossible right now. But I have to find a way.

Komen 3-Day Progress

2011-06-14T20:39:00.004-04:00

I thought I'd write a short post about how things are going to date with my Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. The event is just over three months away. I'll break my report into three areas.

1. My Inspiration - I decided to do the 3-Day walk for breast cancer research for one main reason: my sister Ann. She was my inspiration for doing this. She had been beyond courageous in her battle with breast cancer for over four years, and I wanted her to know that I was doing something to honor her. I knew she would not be alive to see me do this, but she was alive to know I will be doing it. With her death on Memorial Day, I have a sadness that will be hard to chase away. She will be in my heart every step of the way. I hope that somehow during the course of the three days, she will send me a sign that she knows I followed through.

2. Fundraising - This is one area that is going very well. My goal was $100 a mile, for a total of $6,000 and I am 90% there. People are so generous. I plan on seeing if I can go beyond $6,000, although I will not increase my goal.

3. Training - Two thumbs down! The plantar fasciitis is killing me! It is such a persistent injury. I have three months to go and the longest distance I have walked in the last month is 5K, and that hurt a lot. I started with a new doctor yesterday and hope that he can help. I need to somehow get this done. I know I still have time because if my foot were not hurting, I could easily walk 10 miles or so with my leg strength. But at some point, I will run out of time if I can't get healed. So, I must find a way to get past this and start walking again. In the meantime, I am going to try some stationary bike and perhaps some elliptical workouts. People are telling me that it took them 4-8 months to recover from plantar fasciitis. No can do!

Hell for the Heel

2011-06-12T06:53:00.003-04:00

I've strugged about writing lately. I am usually a pretty sunny and upbeat guy. Losing my sister Ann to metastasized breast cancer has hit me hard, even though I could see it coming. I know that although I will always carry love for her and the memories of her, so too will I always miss her. I found a note from her that she wrote four years after I had cancer where she said that my getting ill taught her the importance of family, and how my death would have been unacceptable. Then, just two months after that note, she had cancer, and now, she is gone. "It feels unacceptable, too, that she is dead," was what I thought as I read the note with tears rolling down. She was a wonderful and accomplished person.

Then there is my left heel. The plantar fasciitis has gone on for about six weeks now, and is so frustrating. I should be walking miles and miles, but any walking - even a short one - hurts like hell. Yes, I could walk a few miles, with a lot of pain, but I am probably causing additional damage. For the last four weeks, I have really tried to do all of the right things. Stretches. Heel drops. Night splint at night. Not walking (well, most of the time). I've had two massages, a rarity for me. None of it has not seemed to help. I did slack off just a bit on the ship (I was on a cruise to Canada from May 28 to June 4, the week Ann died), but even there I generally did most of the things I was supposed to do most days. I also walked a lot more than I had been, although no where near what I would have walked as a healthy person. I did a fast walk 5K for breast cancer on the ship - more about that in a later post. That made my heel hurt more.

I am trying three new things this week. I got a runners massage stick (T-Roller) and a foot log. Both of these were recommended by a running coach I saw on the web for plantar fasciitis. I started trying both of those two days ago. And tomorrow, I have an appointment with a doctor to discuss Active Release Therapy. I only have about 100 days to get in shape for this walk. Walking 60 miles in this pain is unimaginable, but so is not walking it. People have donated nearly $5,000 so far to my efforts, and then there is the matter of doing this to honor the memory of my sister. So I have to find a way to heal the hell of my heel!

Requiem in Pacem, Ann

2011-06-05T21:06:00.007-04:00

On Monday, May 30, I got the news while on vacation that my beloved sister Ann had died that afternoon, after courageously battling breast cancer for 51 months. I knew that she didn't have a lot of time left - just five days before, the oncologist suspended treatment and told her she had a few weeks left. But I never thought that she would die just a week after I last saw her, and when I said goodbye to her that morning, I never suspected that it was the last time I would ever see her.

I wrote this the next afternoon, scribbling it out on paper on the cruise ship and deciding not to edit it, since it reflected my emotions at the time without any assistance from rhyme searching software. I know I will miss Ann the rest of my life.

"For Ann"

Today, Ann, is the first day since the day I was born
That you're not here upon this earth, and I feel so forlorn
Perhaps some time there'll come a day when of grief I am shorn
But if so, that is not today, as from your death I mourn.

Remember times when we were kids, and we would laugh and play?
Not once did it occur to me that you'd be gone someday.
Though sunny where I got the news, inside 'twas dark and grey
You're at eternal rest now, but from us you've gone away.

For months now, I have struggled to not break down and weep
I'd watch your face with sadness as exhausted you would sleep
Your grit and spunk inspired me as you climbed a hill so steep
And every step along the way, your courage did you keep.

That evil cancer hit you hard in this, your final, year
I came as often as I could, though you lived nowhere near
I feared that someday in the spring, I'd lose my sister dear
'Twas on the thirtieth of May the sad news did I hear.

Now death has come and taken you so very far from me
But as long as I can draw a breath, then in my heart you'll be
Oh, God and Blessed Mary, I beseech you, hear my plea:
Grant my beloved sister joy and peace eternally!

Art Ritter
May 31, 2011

The Secret Passageway

2011-05-23T21:02:00.004-04:00

When I was a kid growing up near Philadelphia, my brothers and sisters and I used to love to go to the city’s museums. One of these was an excellent science museum, the Franklin Institute. The exhibit we liked the most there when we were little was a model human heart that was big enough to walk through. We would enter the right atrium, pretending to be an oxygen-starved red corpuscle returning from the body’s hinterlands by way of the vena cava. We would travel through to the right ventricle, and squeeze through the pulmonary artery to the lungs. Picking up a load of oxygen from an alveoli, we’d return to the left atrium through the pulmonary vein, travel through the mitral valve to the left ventricle, and move into the arched aorta to exit the heart. Sometimes we would run through the heart as quickly as we could several times in a row until our father lost his last remnant of what masqueraded as patience and would yell at us to cease and desist.

One day when I was about eight, I entered the heart, my sister Ann and her friend Annabelle just behind me. I moved quickly through all its narrow and kind of spooky passages, determined that my sister would not pass me. When I made that final turn out of the aorta, they were standing at the heart’s exit. “How did you get here ahead of me?” I asked in total bewilderment. “We took the secret passageway,” my sister told me. I pleaded and begged to be shown where it was, but my sister insisted that I would have to find it myself. Do you know that every time I went into that heart for years, I searched for the secret passageway? I’d poke around in every little nook and cranny, examining them from every angle, fruitlessly searching for anything that might be the start of this wondrous shortcut through the heart. Of course, I never did find it, and realized years later how my older and smarter sister had duped me!

How I wish I could go up to Ann’s home now, and walk in to see her standing in her kitchen, no longer hooked up to oxygen, cooking something for her guests. Or maybe she would be sitting in her living room, sewing one of the beautiful fabric landscapes that she learned how to do in the last decade. I would give her a huge hug and ask in astonishment “How did you get here? How did you get past breast cancer?”

“Oh, I took the secret passageway,” she would reply. “It is one that cancer doesn’t know about and can’t find.”

But I know that cannot be, for just as in the big model heart, there are no secret passageways to get us past danger or trouble or illness. It is my fervent hope that someday soon – certainly by the time my nieces are my sister’s age or by the time my granddaughter is a grown woman, there will be effective and safe cures for the terrible disease of breast cancer that will in effect accommodate escape by way of a secret passageway.

My New Training "Regimen"

2011-05-22T21:49:00.005-04:00

With the Komen 3-Day exactly four months from tomorrow, I should be doing lots and lots of walking right now - up to about eight miles at a time. But with the plantar fasciitis, that is not happening. Instead, my training is focused on the following:

1. Runner's stretch - up to three or four times a day to stretch my calves. My left calf has been especially tight, and that is the side that the injury is on.

2. Straight leg stretch with a towel - wrapping a towel around one foot and pulling back on it while sitting with my leg straight out on the floor. I don't like this stretch and find it kind of painful behind my knees, a sure sign that I am too tight.

3. Heel drop - standing on a step with my forefeet, I drop my heels slowly down as far as possible to get the stretch and put stress on the muscles while they lengthen, then pull up with my feet to make them level, 15 reps for three sets, twice a day. This is a good strengthening and stretching exercise.

4. Ball roll - roll a ball under my foot, especially the arch.

5. Toe scrunch - use my toes to scrunch up a towel on the floor. Except in my case, it is more like use my toes to fruitlessly move against a towel. If there were a toe scrunching championship competition, I would finish dead last. I have had at least 3 or 4 other people show me how to scrunch my towel effortlessly, and I just can't do it - I don't have the requisite flexibility in my toes. So I will keep at it.

When I get more time, I can add in eliptical and pool work, and even stationary bike, but life seems too hectic for that right now. But I know if I can't walk soon, I must add that all in.

Doctor, Doctor

2011-05-19T05:20:00.002-04:00

"Doctor, Doctor,
Mr. M.D.
Now can you tell me, tell me, tell me,
What's ailin' me?"

Except, in this case it was a "Ms. M.D.", and she was able to confirm that what is ailing me is plantar fasciitis. She gave me a series of stretches and exercises to do, and told me that if I do them religiously for three weeks, it should start to improve. They are not all fun, but clearly I need to make a change. The Komen 3-Day walk is just four months away, and right now, six miles would be a challenge, let alone 60. I've also been wearing a night splint, which is not the most comfortable thing in the world, but does appear to help.

Interestingly, the doctor I saw is from my old stomping ground and we went to high schools in the same athletic league, although she was clearly in school several decades after my high school days were a fading memory. She also was medical crew for a Susan G. Komen 3-Day event in Philly a few years ago, and said it was an amazing experience.

I cannot imagine now not doing this walk, and need to get my foot healed. Whoops, time to stretch!

Short Walks, Some Pain

2011-05-11T19:00:00.000-04:00

After six days of inactivity, wearing a night splint, ice, and stretching, my foot was feeling okay when I walked around a bit. So yesterday at lunch, it being a gorgeous day, I decided to walk down by the river to Browns Island. When I got there, my foot still felt alright, so I walked along the trail and pipeline past the great blue heron colony. The herons were out in force, so I resolved to come back today with a camera, which I did. Eventually, I will post some photos on my other blog, Oh, to be Hiking!

Each day’s walk was about 1.5 to 1.75 miles. Unfortunately, I now have more pain in my left heel, even though I took a nice slow and steady pace. The pain I was not feeling when walking a bit is now in evidence once I sit down for a little while and take those first steps. That is discouraging, but it is also reality. I know that even really short walks may be overdoing it right now.

I made a doctor appointment for two weeks from now, and am trying other doctors to see if I can get one closer. Next week would be ideal. So far, I am not having any luck. I would like a specialist to evaluate the injury and recommend exactly what types of exercises and/or stretching I should do, and how long I need to stay inactive. I did do a lot of water aerobics Monday night with no pain, and am thinking I need to do more of that. Maybe it is even a good time to learn to swim better.

A Note From Mother Nature

2011-05-09T06:00:00.002-04:00

Dear Art,

How are you? Actually, as your Mother Nature, I already know that. I was just being polite. I am fine. Thanks for thinking of me on Mothers Day.

Now, what I want to know is: are you a moron? I created pain for a reason. When something hurts that is not supposed to, it is my warning to you to stop doing whatever is causing you the pain. What part of that don’t you understand?

So, you had this bad pain in your foot. Did you stop walking for a while? No! First, you did a six mile hike at the beach. I increased your pain to make sure you understood. But being stubborn, you still didn’t listen. You then took a seven mile walk in Washington, DC. By the end of that walk, I think you were beginning to understand, but it should not have taken you that long to figure that out. I gave you common sense for a reason. Use it!

I know you are worried whether you will be in shape for your 60 mile Komen walk if you don’t do a lot of walking now. But you still have 138 days until the walk, which is plenty of time, given your leg strength – unless you do something stupid to wreck your foot in the meantime. So, cool it! Get some rest. Use your brain to figure out when it is okay to start taking long walks again.

I know that I seem cruel, but I am just indifferent. After all, how can I pick sides? A lion in Africa either starves to death, or a zebra dies a terrible death so that the lion can feed. I can’t interfere in all of that. But nature has given your body the capacity to heal itself if given time and proper conditions. I just stay out of it. If you make bad decisions, there is nothing I can or will do to make the outcome easier, even as your Mother Nature.

So, hopefully you will learn from this. But if you don’t, I will send you another little lesson that perhaps you won’t ignore.

Love,
Mother Nature

PS: I was just being polite with that “love” stuff. I really am an indifferent mother. Sorry.

PSS: I was just being polite when I said “sorry,” because I am indifferent. Indifferent means never having to say you’re sorry.

Locking the Barn Door After the Horse Escapes

2011-05-03T18:30:00.007-04:00

I wish running shoes had a little gauge that told you when to toss them. I always wait too long, trying to delay spending $100 or more. In this case, I ended up waiting too long. I clearly have plantar fasciitis, and it is not a lot of fun. Plus, I ended up spending the $135 anyway.

I noticed last week that my left heel was hurting more and more, and realizing that my shoes are at least a year old, with who knows how many 100’s of miles on them, I thought that might be the cause. So I replaced them, and their orthotic inserts, and it seemed to help. But it was probably too late, or I should have rested more. I took it really easy Friday, and then, feeling pretty good Saturday, I walked about 3 miles at the beach. That still felt okay Sunday, so I walked about 6 miles (in hiking boots) on Sunday. Maybe that was not a good idea, because my left foot has hurt quite a bit since then.

I know I thought “it’s only six miles.” It seems so short. But when you have the start of an injury, six miles can be a long way that makes things worse.

It seems like classic plantar fasciitis – pain near the heel, and much worse when I first get up after sitting, and especially after sleeping. I took it easy yesterday, am taking it easy today, and wore a night splint that a runner friend lent me. I am also icing, and taking “vitamin I” (Ibuprofen). All of that has helped to some extent, but the foot still has definite pain when I stand and take those first few steps.

My guess is that I will have continue doing all these things for a week or so, and see if the pain lessens. I hate being inactive. I am a pretty patient guy about a lot of things, but not about that. But I may have no choice. In trying to save some money (which I ended up spending anyway) I have caused an injury. The new shoes are great, and a reminder of how worn out the old ones were even though they still looked pretty good. But the new shoes are like closing the barn door after the horse escaped, and there are no shoulda – woulda – coulda that will undo that. Just hopefully lots of rest, ice, and the night splint. I have 60 miles to walk in a few months, but right now, I keep trying to tell myself that the best way to get there is resting and not walking a lot.

Thank You, TNT Vancouver!

2011-04-28T21:29:00.004-04:00

This weekend is the marathon and half-marathon in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. This thank you is to the Richmond team, the Virginia team, and all of the teams that are racing for a cure there this weekend. Thank you, from a nine year lymphoma survivor, for deciding to do Team in Training and for sticking with it. Have a great time, and a great race. As April is Poetry Month, I decided to thank you in verse, for better or worse

We humans have feared when cancer appeared
Well before long-gone days of Herb Hoover
But we’re one step closer to cancer disposer
Because of your work in Vancouver

You I must praise, for the funds that you raise
Will develop more cancer remover
With your every stride throw your chest out with pride
As you race for a cure in Vancouver!

You worked hard in training, whether sunny or raining
And are known as a shaker and mover
You’ve proved you have mettle, now go win your medal
As a champion out west in Vancouver

Progress can seem slow with a long way to go
But cancer soon we’ll outmaneuver
You’ve raised funds for a cure, you trained and endured
To prepare for your race in Vancouver

For the young girl with cancer you’ll help bring the answer;
In the process, I’m sure, you will move her
Survivors like me will give you cheers – three –
For you’re heroes this day in Vancouver!