Not Exactly Angela's Ashes

Here's the video of a Philadelphia man spreading his mother's ashes around Lincoln Field during the Eagles game on Sunday.

After much thought, I've decided my ashes should be spread over the Edward Jones Dome field, where the St. Louis Rams play. Of course none of my friends or relatives will want to get arrested for sprinting onto the field during a game, so I'll leave some money for them to hire a helicopter. And of course the dome has a roof, so my ashes won't technically reach the field. But the point will be made.

Rock Bottom

Dear Singleathletes.com:

I think you've hit rock bottom. Last week you sent me three prospects that are totally outside the X-Man's parameters.

1. A "35-year old" woman who admits to actually being 39 and to no longer using illegal substances since she stopped competing as a bodybuilder. Also, she lives more than 1,000 miles away. I admit I'd probably meet up with her if she was local and her racing motorcycles do look pretty cool. But come on, don't you think this was a stretch?

2. A 51-year old woman who doesn't exercise, has completed no college, and who has three kids. What? Well, OK, at least the kids don't live at home—probably because they are finished with school and out on their own with jobs!

3. A 42-year old woman looking for another feminina, occasional smoker. This one really threw me. I don't even know what to make of it. Is that all you got left?

Any more incidents like this and I'm going to drop your service like Lance did Ulrich in the Pyrenees. Kapeesh?

Later,
Racer X

Singapore Triathlete Runs on Passion

"He's so fit that he's able to race in a triathlon with a day's notice." One of many bad lines, but nevertheless an entertaining article on Singapore's "executive Ironman." A piece of advice from the Man himself: 'Make sure you have a good pair of shoes that can last the race. You don't have time to change shoes in a race, or you'll lose your momentum." Word.

Deactivating Toxic VOCs in the Weight Room

Dear YMCA:

I realize it might work out best for your daytime maintenance guy's schedule if he can paint the weight room walls during the middle of the day, during the lunchtime rush, but perhaps it would be best to wait until the facility is closed? Or even do the painting during a less crowded, non-rush hour time?

I put up with the cast of lovable losers who frequent your place because I fit right in. I don't complain about working out in silence because your music system has been "broken" for months. But, honestly, I don't love inhaling volatile organic compounds during sets. Personally, I'd rather feel the burn in my muscles than in my nostrils and throat. YMCA, for poisoning your members: You have been Deactivated.

Rogers Shares His Runner's High

Running great Bill Rogers was in Cocoa Village, Florida, for the Space Coast Marathon.

"'I think runners are the happiest people on the planet,' Rodgers said. 'I also don't think any other sport has the power that this sport has on a personal level.'That's my headline quote: No other sport can match the feeling . . . when you go out on a run and come back, it's not like going out and playing a round of golf, it's not like playing a game of basketball, it's not like playing football. Nothing has the primal power, that feeling you get, they call it the runner's high, no other sport can match it.'"

What's the Best Cardio Machine?

The New York Times asked 10 experts to choose a winner among the treadmill, stationary bike, stair climber, ellipitcal trainer, and rowing machine. The elliptical trainer won by a large margin.

"Our 10 experts thought it had many virtues, chiefly that it allows a low-impact, high-energy workout that is fun. Used correctly, an elliptical trainer works the muscles of the central core as well as the lower body, although some experts think research is needed to determine how hard a workout its users really get."

There's This Thing Called a "Mountain Bike"

Guy barreling down the steep, rocky TRAIL at 20+ MPH on your ROAD BIKE yesterday morning and who nearly took out two runners (one being me): You have been Deactivated. That's assuming you didn't fly over your bars and impale yourself on a branch along the trail.

Fast Company

Ty and I completed our 21-mile park run last Sunday morning with a flourish, kicking in the final 800 meters at a sub 6:00-minute pace. Dueling to the finish, we left numerous recreational runners in our wake. In the end, Ty folded and the X-Man cruised in about 11 seconds ahead. Though it was only a training run, the point was made, the gauntlet laid. As we broke out the Gatorade and began to break down our morning jaunt, a woman came trotting by. "You are fast," she said, staring me straight in the eyes without even acknowledging Ty. In more ways than one, baby—in more ways than one.

Later,
Racer X

Church Ladies

I arrived at mass this past Saturday as the entrance hymn got underway, and so I took a seat closer to the front where there are more openings for stragglers. I found myself in the middle of the section popular with the 70+ year-olds.

I couldn't help but notice how similar all the church ladies looked. Short, white, curly hair. Thick, oval-shaped glasses, with a neutral color frame. Solid-colored clothing made of thick fabric. Pearl necklaces and earrings. Similar builds. Even their faces looked the same.

It got me wondering: Do we all start to look the same the older we get? If so, and if I'm lucky enough to live to that age, I'd better look for a mate based on common interests and personality IN ADDITION to the initial attraction.

The mass is ended go in peace. ...

Activating the Supersonic Swede

Have you seen 26-year-old triathlete Bjorn Andersson's bike position?

"Andersson has been the darling and buffoon of the triathlon world. His sponsors trumpet his incredible bike performances in banner ads on Internet sites while his critics lambaste his riding style, equipment selection and training techniques."

Anderson scorched the field for a 4:33 bike split at Ironman Wisconsin, but abandoned at mile 19 of the marathon.

SWM, 35, Seeking Tri Coach for 2006

SWM, 35, seeking effective, experienced triathlon coach for 2006 season. Strong communication skills required. Looking for the coach who can mold my potential and take me to the next level at the Olympic to Ironman distances. Willing to work hard, listen, and provide feedback. If you or someone you know have the coaching skills to improve my performance from an age-group contender with six years experience to an overall podium contender, please send name, experience, and rates.

Seriously, I need a coach, but I'm having a hard time putting my trust in someone and pulling the trigger. I'm not looking for the platinum, $1,000 per month package, which includes unannounced supplement cupboard inspections, laundry basket checks, and phone record audits (No socializing allowed!).

If you do a good job, you will get positive press on this web site and other triathlon-related media. This is what we call "Getting Activated!"

Tri coaches of the world: Do you have what it takes to Get Activated? Holla at jpd@activeness.net.

Activating Heather Gollnick

The 36-year-old pro triathlete and mother of three may be small in stature (5'-0"), but she has some big accomplishments fueled by a positive attitude.

"On the handlebar of her bike, she puts a sticker with a spiral design. The idea is that positive thoughts, like negative ones, will build on themselves to great effect. 'Especially at long distances, it's so mental,' she said. 'When I see pros with bad attitudes, they don't have much success.'"

Cutting the Leash

JohnBriChi2005
Originally uploaded by jjactive2.

As we passed the United Center and aimed for Greektown I summoned the ghost of Michael Jordan to lead me to the miracle I’d need to sustain the torrid (for me) pace we’d set for the first 15 miles. Clank! Off the rim.

When I told my brother to go, Brian, who stands 6’-2”, has legs to his shoulders, and weighs slightly more than an iPod Nano, didn’t flinch. So I cut that imaginary leash I clutch to stay behind faster running partners and watched the 22-year-old glide into the sea of marathoners ahead and melt into the future. Quick and painless: Good!

Exactly one year ago, this was the same point in the Chicago Marathon course where Brian had abruptly fallen off the pace. By mile 19, he was leaning over on the side of a Pilsen street inhaling the aroma of greasy tacos, trying not to toss his mix of lemon lime Gatorade and Power Gels, massaging his cramped hamstrings, and questioning if he’d finish his first attempt at 26.2.

Like Nick Carraway gazing into space and wondering where it all went wrong with Jay Gatsby and the American dream, we stared in disgust as the runners in the pace group we had worked so hard to pass stormed through. Brian told me to go get them, but I had promised myself and our parents, too anxious to watch their baby run (“We’ll do more good praying for him at Mass.”), that I would be his escort. They especially wanted me to remind him “he didn’t have to finish.” Right.

“Let’s walk for a minute and see how you feel,” I suggested.

Soon Brian had collected himself, gritted his teeth as all marathoners must through that last merciless 10K, and, with me “one-stepping” him, forced himself into a rhythm that carried his legs through Chinatown, past what I’ll always call Comiskey Park, and north along Lake Michigan to the finish. He beat the Battle of the Bonk and did it with a time placing him in the top quarter of all runners: somewhere between Evans Rutto’s winning mark and Oprah’s PR. After 26.2 side-by-side miles — no small feat in that mammoth crowd — we crossed the line together and life was sweet.

The next day I was back in St. Louis when I received Brian’s email: “Thanks for doing the race with me. I’m not sure what I would have done if I would have been alone. Those first 16-18 miles and the last 8-10 were both rewarding in completely different ways. I guess that means I’ll be back again in 2005.”

On the August 1983 night he was born, I was annoyed that I had to switch off a cool new cable TV channel called “MTV” to head the hospital to meet baby Brian. My 17-year-old, self-centered world had no room for a whiny newborn who would interrupt my time with Martha Quinn and Nina Blackwood, not to mention important phone calls with my non-existent girlfriend.

But over the next two decades, this odd-smelling little guy morphed into a combination of my brother, son, and best friend. Running became part of our bond. If grade-school Brian was staying at my place on a Saturday night sleepover, I’d drag him along to a local 10K the next morning. Of course I’d always present him with my finisher’s medal or the occasional hard-earned “Age Group 4th Place” trophy. We eventually began running together. By high school I found myself breaking down the day’s race with the other track or cross country parents.

Our regular runs together ended in August 2002 when Brian moved 300 miles north to attend Loyola University in Chicago. In each of the next two Octobers, though, he jumped in and ran the final 10K of the marathon with me. In 2004, inspired by the energy and electricity he had felt, Brian opened his arm to the marathon needle and went the full distance.

So it was that just before 8:00 A.M. on October 9 of this year I found myself standing in the Preferred Start corral with Brian, who this time was ready to attack Chicago with a vet’s wisdom. “You’re on your own this year,” I warned, as Sammy Van Hagar’s “Right Now” blared. “Neither of us waits.”

Right now,
Catch a magic moment, do it
Right here and now
It means everything

We’re a good team. Early in the race, just coming out of the Lincoln Park Zoo, Brian pointed out the hospital he had visited for a pre-race exam. As I looked up at the high-rise, my Oakleys flipped off my hat and started rolling down my chest. I envisioned losing my third pair of $100 sunglasses of the season. No! Attempting to stop and turn around against that sea of jumpy marathon runners would be like fighting a latte-fueled crowd swarming the Michigan Avenue Nordstrom’s for a post-Christmas sale. In seconds they would be crushed.

My only chance was to buy time by kicking the glasses in front of me. Amazingly, I managed to do this. But I was too shocked at my success to carry out the crucial “pick them up” part of the plan. Before I could ask my 39-year-old old back to bend over while sustaining a 7:45 pace, Brian swooped down like a plunge-diving pelican and, without breaking stride and in one graceful motion, reached out, nabbed the glasses, and gently placed them into my hand.

Over the next several miles, until Brian broke free during mile 16, I pretended to be in control and barked out advice, much as I had back in St. Louis all summer during our Wednesday track workouts, neighborhood tempo runs, and long, slow Sunday runs: “Grab water up here on the left, not Gatorade! Open your gel now and get it ready! That last mile was about 20 seconds too fast, so let’s rein it in, Khalid!”

“Where’s Brian?” asked Chicago Tim as he jumped in to run with me at mile 17. “I saw you guys together at 13.”

“Pace was too fast.”

“We’ll catch him before the finish,” said Chicago Tim, doing his best job as an illegal pacing partner to crack the whip. “You’ll see him again.”

“I hope not.”

Over the next nine miles, despite Chicago Tim’s valiant efforts to keep me focused and moving, I suffered more than in any of my previous 10 marathons. I saw stars. I saw a joyful, marathon-less future. I saw visions of using discarded cups to build a comfy bed alongside the Mile 23 aid station. In an epic St. Louis Cardinals postseason-type meltdown, I managed to let eight minutes and a new marathon PR slip away over the last few miles. But, dragged along by Brian’s fast pace-setting, I had clocked my best time in five years.

I didn’t see Brian again until I was hobbling through the finisher’s area. There he was, chatting with Diesel, my long-time St. Louis training partner, as the two sipped Mich Ultras. They looked like they had just finished an easy 10K. Were they even sweating?

That’s when I found out the student had become the master: Brian had not only maintained our pace, but gutted out a negative split. He had slapped 13 minutes on me over the last 10 miles.

I pictured Diesel and him trotting through the course in Negative Split, 3:20s-Land, where surely runners must sip Gatorade from champagne glasses and use silver spoons to nibble on tasty fresh fruit gels. “Jeeves, another sodium tablet and strawberry-banana gel, pronto.”

“About time, man,” said Brian. “Let’s get a picture. Hey, you don’t look so good.”

That night I opted to flop down in the hotel room bed with an ice bucket full of Guinness and a remote control in-hand when Brian and his 19-year-old marathon-running girlfriend (crazy kids!) headed to Navy Pier for the finisher’s party. “You guys don’t need me.”

I’m not one of those philosophical, George Sheehan-disciple runners who finds the postmodern meaning of life in a pair of Nikes or who can point to apparitions of the Virgin Mary in the swooshes. I just do it because it feels good. I just do it because I’m addicted to the adrenaline. I just do it for the camaraderie. Finally, I just do it because the pain and effort feel real in a reality-TV, virtual world too-often lacking in authenticity. And the feeling of guiding your kid brother from his first steps through the day he sprints away from you as a damn good marathoner is about as authentic as it gets.

Now I have my own four-year-old son, Joe, who still believes I won the race when I bring home my finisher’s medal. See you in Chicago in 2023, little man. Gimme your best shot.

This story originally appeared in the November issue of SwimBikeRun St. Louis Magazine.

Then Make Some New S***

Two Globo Corp women who agreed on the answer: "Same s***, different day," (SSDD) when queried how things had been going for you lately, you have been Deactivated. Don't like it? Then make some new s***. Get out and make things happen. Activate yourselves.

Activating Pat LaFontaine

NHL Hall of Famer Pat LaFontaine met his goal and finished a personal-best 11:45:37 in the Florida Ironman.

He also raised money for his charity.

The China Syndrome

I woke up to some horrifying news: Ironman China has been postponed! Now what will the X-Man do on April 23, 2006? Today will involve a flurry of meetings with my coach, trainer, nutritionist, masseuse, travel agent, sports doc, accountant, and financial advisor. We have to come up with another "A" race — pronto! I've placed calls to Roch Frey and Paul Huddle. No call backs yet, but I realize it's only 4:00 A.M. on the West Coast. I'll stay by the phone. Those guys technically are not my coaches, but I feel like they'll want to help.

Meanwhile, I've instructed my attorney to look into taking legal action against the Chinese government for failing to grant the WTC the necessary race permits. They soon will know that Tiananmen Square was nothing compared to the wrath of X.

Later,
Racer X

Deactivating Oprah

So "Oprah Regrets Her 1988 Liquid Diet." That might be the most ridiculous serious news headline I've seen. Other notable 1988 regrets include Jimmy the Greek for comparing the physical abilities of black and white athletes, Ben Johnson for testing positive for steroids and being stripped of his Olympics gold medal, and me for my Flock of Seagulls haircut.

Cheating at the Marine Corps Marathon

Runner's World's Amby Burfoot reports on the JeansMarines and Team in Training course-cutting cheaters. It seems like the relatively small Canadian-based JeansMarines group is taking all the heat here, and they deserve to be scorched. But what about the purple-shirted Team in Training runners who reportedly were doing the same? TnT brings a lot of registrants to major races — 850 to the Marine Corps Marathon — so they obviously wield much more clout. And Burfoot admits that his publication is a sponsor of TnT. I'm sure they'll receive a stern warning!

These charity groups need to strengthen their coaching programs and produce runners — not finishers. There's too much pressure on these people, many of whom have absolutely no business trying the marathon distance so soon in their running "careers," to finish so they can appease all their donors. Other than feeling that pressure, I can't understand why marathon runners would want to cheat themselves. In Chicago this year, at about about mile two, dozens of runners around me cut a corner (and about 10 seconds from their time) by streaming across a plaza. Based on my starting position, these were 3:30-3:45 marathoners.

Celebs Raise Money at San Diego Triathlon Challenge

This year's Nov. 3 race included 450 able-bodied athletes, 75 challenged athletes, and $812,000 raised, reports IronmanLive.com.

Comedian Robin Williams cycled the 56-mile bike leg in 2:47 (20.1 MPH). Actor Jim Carrey ran the half marathon in 1:45. Paula Newby-Fraser, Scott Tinley, and Julie Moss aso participated.

Williams on his cycling addiction: "For me, it's the equivalent of golf. But I don't have to pay and stand around with people dressed like pimps."

Explaining the Chris Legh Gatorade Commercial

Ever wonder what really happened to Chris Legh in that now ubiquitous Gatorade commercial? (Miami Herald registration required). "It's spine-chilling stuff, a mix of horror and inspiration -- especially when you learn that the footage is real, shot at the 1997 Ironman Triathlon in Kona, Hawaii." Says Legh:

`I thought if I just shut my eyes and made it to the end, I'd be all right. I came up about 50 meters too short.''

Tri Infidelity

It has to stop.

This morning I took Tawni's spinning class again so I could continue sending her subliminal messages about my increasingly strong feelings for her. I should feel badly about what this says about my relationship with Mindi, but I have a more serious problem.

My real dilemma is that once again I gave Ty another lame excuse about why I couldn't run with him. I'm turning into the world's worst training partner, which I consider a mortal sin. In fact, if there had been more room on those stone tablets and/or serious triathlon training had been around during Biblical times, I'm pretty sure God would have given Moses a commandment about honoring one's training partner. Something like, "Thou shalt not bail." Of course I can't prove that theory, but I believe it has legs.

Tomorrow I'll come clean and tell Ty the truth. As for Mindi: What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Later,
Racer X

Quote of the Day

"All my life people have said to me, 'You're too small, Pre. You're not fast enough, Pre. Give up your foolish dreams, Steve!' They forgot something: I have to win. No fallback here, no great stride, no long legs--nothing!" - Steve Prefontaine (from Prefontaine, 1997)

Knicks May Motivate 74-Year-Old Ironman

The poor play of the New York Knicks may be just the motivation needed by Dr. Arthur Figur to hammer the pedals of his stationary bike. I'm sure coach Larry Brown feels comforted that he can do some good. (NY Times)

Someone's Arms

Ironman triathletes often are joined by their spouse, kids, parents, siblings, significant other, or friends when running the last 50 yards down the finishing chute and across the line. It's a way of sharing an emotional moment with those who helped you get there.

What's even more tear-jerking to me, though, is the person waiting beyond the finish line who becomes so overjoyed that he or she swallows that racer into a two-armed, relief-laden embrace.

If, at the end of your day, trip, project, performance, or finish line, there is someone waiting for you with nervous arms eager to wrap you up and squeeze the breath out of you because you are safe and because he or she is proud of what you have accomplished, then count your blessings man. Count your blessings.

The Mathematics of Race Fueling

Here's a great primer on race fueling by Dan Empfield.

Activating the ALS Warrior Poet

Jonathan "Blazeman" Blais completed the Hawaii Ironman despite suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (Lou Gehrig's Disease). Here's his story.

New York City Marathon Photos

Browse 1,2000 marathon photos on Flickr. This runner certainly has cojones.

Atlanta Runner Struck and Killed by Car

In Atlanta for work today, I read in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that an award-winning local amateur runner had been struck and killed by a car while on a run in the early-morning darkness. Patricia Foell, 43, was crossing a road at about 6:00 AM. The distraught driver of the Toyota Camry that hit her was on her way to Bible study. Foell, the mother of two elementary school children, was a member of the Atlanta Track Club's Women's Competitive Team.

Julia Emmons, executive director of the Track Club, said that the basics of running safety rely on running "defensively." This includes staying on sidewalks and, if runners have to run in the roadway, always running facing traffic so they can see what's coming, using crosswalks, assuming that vehicles can't see them, and wearing reflective vests when running in darkness. A police spokesman suggested that anyone running with a cellphone enter an emergency number into the phone's speed dialer under the acronym "ICE" for "in case of emergency" so that emergency personnel know who to call.

Tivo/VCR Alert: Ironman World Championship Airs On Saturday

Set your recorders for 3:30 PM CST on NBC if you want to get a great 90-minute recording to keep you occupied on trainer rides this winter.

Deactivating the Toronto JeansMarines Marathon Cheaters

A disturbing story: Members of a Toronto runner's group deliberately skipped several miles of route during the U.S. Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. — then accepted medals for "finishing." Incredibly, the group's leader, Dr. Jean Marmoreo, encouraged the slowest runners to take a shortcut. The goal was to help them finish the event within the (cough) seven-hour limit. Semper Fidelis (Always Faithful)!

Activating a Soldier Racing His Own Iraq Ironman

U.S. Army Capt. Christopher Harris swam, biked, and ran his way through more than 140 miles in Baghdad's combat zone. The picture of Captain Harris pedaling his Softride on a dusty Baghdad road is surreal.

"Harris began by swimming more than 100 laps in the Camp Victory pool. After a quick change of clothes, he was on his bike and moving hastily toward Baghdad International Airport. Racing around the airport complex until he had accumulated 112 miles, he then changed into his running shoes. His course took him back through Camp Victory and into the adjoining Camp Liberty, where he ran around the installation’s lake until completing his marathon run."

Grapple in the Apple

RamaalaEurosport
Originally uploaded by jjactive2.

Watching Paul Tergat and Hendrick Ramaala run side-by-side over the last mile of yesterday's New York City Marathon was one of the most exciting five minutes of TV I've seen since Lance scorched the field going up the mountain to Courchevel in Stage 10 of this year's Tour de France. My four-year-old son and I both agreed that Tergat looked stronger, but Ramaala showed amazing guts and tenacity before falling just short. A one-second difference after 26.2 miles? Wow. Paul Tergat: for being a great champion, you have been Activated. And Hendrick Ramaala, for digging so deep that you crumpled across the finish line—yet still managed to stop your watch while lying on your back—you, too, have been Activated.

Here is Runner's World's race coverage. MSNBC.com has a great image of the finish.

Workout Routine: Jets Coach Herman Edwards

Sports Illustrated describes the strict pre-dawn workout routine of 51-year-old New York Jets coach Herman Edwards.

"I have 16-hour days ahead of me. Exercising gives me the energy to get through them."

LaFontaine Takes on Ironman Florida

NHL Hall-of-Famer Pat LaFontaine, now 40, is hoping to bring his time down under 12 hours in today's Ironman Florida race. Last year he raised more than $40,000 for his charity, the Companions in Courage Foundation, by finishing in a little over 13 hours.

"I have a whole new appreciation for professional triathletes," says LaFontaine. "They are aerobic machines. The triathlon does test you physically, but when you push yourself like that physically, you learn a lot about yourself."

New Race Director Infuses NYC Marathon With Energy

Mary Wittenberg will oversee her first New York City Marathon as the race director on Sunday, reports The New York Times.

"Just a spectacular and powerful woman," said Deena Kastor, who won the bronze medal in the women's marathon last year at the Athens Olympics and the Chicago Marathon in October. "In a very short amount of time, she has made so many positive changes in this sport."

"Gatorade: Is It In You?"

Gatorade
Originally uploaded by jjactive2.

Michael Jordan is one of the greatest basketball players ever (sorry, Duke Draggletail), but his ability to say those five simple words has been Deactivated. Listen to the short MP3 sound file. I like the sycophantic account exec who says at the end: "You had a couple great ones."

What Said the Crowd Around the Body of Phidippides?

A McSweeney's contributor knows what they said about the dead marathon messenger.

Win a CompuTrainer

Pez is giving away a CompuTrainer.

Runner's High

Five residents of a New York City drug treatment center have trained to run the marathon, reports The New York Times.

Greta Waitz Battling Cancer

The 52-year-old Norwegian,a nine-time winner of the New York City Marathon, will watch Sunday's race from the lead car. She is undergoing chemotherapy and radiation for an undisclosed form of cancer. She's still running (7 miles on an 8% incline on the day of this report) on the treadmill.

""I think being an athlete gives you an advantage," she says. "The physical fitness gives you the mind-set that you cannot quit. All those qualities help you get over it."

The "Dumbing Down" of Marathons?

Forbes points out that marathoners are slowing down — dramatically.

"In New York, which along with Boston hosts the nation's most prestigious long-distance race, the median male runner in 1983 ran the distance in 3:41:49, an 8:27 minute-per-mile pace. Ten years later the median time was 4:14:27, or 9:43 per mile. Last year, the median runner had slowed to 4:28:41, or 10:25 per mile."

The fact that Forbes even publishes features about running says something, doesn't it?

Where the Streets Have No Name

Earlier this week I Activated Bill Gates, whose foundation is providing more than $258 million in grants to help find ways to prevent and treat malaria.

Today I read Jann Wenner's interview with Bono in Rolling Stone (November 3, 2005), and this is what Bono had to say:

"A prominent head of state said to me if we really believed that these people in the developing world were equal, there is no way that we could allow 3,000 Africans, mostly children, to die every day from mosquito bites while we have the medicines and technology that could save their lives. It's as absurd as separate drinking fountains for blacks in the 1950s. It's racism disguised by distance."

Then I noticed over on SwimBikeRun St. Louis that there is a World Swim For Malaria on Saturday, December 3. I knew there could be a tie-in to this blog's focus!

Hawaiian Diary: Part 4 - Kona Ironman

Read Part 1 - Pre-Race
Read Part 2 - World Age Group Championship Triathlon Race Recap
Read Part 3 - Post Race Honolulu Vacation

Friday, October 14
The airport in Kona on the Big Island is like none I’ve experienced. It’s indoor/outdoor without the usual cement walls and escalators. Lots of places in Hawaii are like that. Our hotel didn’t really have a front door — the lobby just opened to the pool area. Somehow the carpet was always clean. Birds hop around inside restaurants and no one pays much attention.

Once in Kona, “Uncle Jerry” (Mary’s sister-in-law’s uncle) picks us up in his jeep. We go to the PowerBar athlete luncheon, pick up some free stuff, and head down to the transition area to see what's going on.


One of the first guys I see is Peter Reid, three-time winner, pictured here in the orange sleeveless shirt. All by himself, no entourage or security. Just a normal-looking dude rolling his Specialized bike with race number 2 on it to the check-in and standing in line with everyone else. Reid again wound up on the podium, this time taking third.


Natascha Badman, a five-time winner coming into the race, who is in light green, had more people around her and seemed relaxed and smiling as usual.


Michellie Jones also looked relaxed in pink — and nicely color-coordinated.


St. Louisan Beat Bartlome was ready to go. He stops for a photo with me.

That night Mary and I had dinner with Aaron, a guy we met at Nationals in Kansas City, and a bunch of his friends who happen to include pro triathlete Chris Lieto’s entourage (agent, biochemist, friends, etc.). Nice folks. They have good things to say about Chris, which confirms what I had thought about him from reading some of his race reports and quotes about racing/training/life.

Saturday, October 14
Race Day. Uncle Jerry drops us off close to the race start and we find our way to a hotel balcony to watch the swim start.

A Japanese athlete is first out of the water, well-under 50 minutes, followed by Simon Lessing and Faris Al-Sultan.


Here is Lessing speeding out of T1, with Al-Sultan just coming around the corner. Lessing would eventually fade on the run and drop out.


There goes Natascha on her Cheetah. She will eventually take over the race on the run from Michellie Jones and win her sixth title. Jones holds on for second with a great race.

While the bike leg was going on, a group of us swam out along the swim course and probably got in about a mile or so. Then we headed up to the “hot corner” to see the athletes coming back into town on their bikes.


Here is Torbjorn Sindballe, first off the bike, with a new course PR. He would fade on the run, but had to finish to collect his prizes for being first at certain points.


He is followed by Al-Sultan, looking aero with his helmet and speedo. He would pass Sindballe and never look back in claiming his first World Championship.


Cam Brown, looking strong, focused and comfortable, ran his way into second place overall.


Raynard Tissink, who was racing near the front of the race on Saturday, was at the beach body surfing on Sunday.


Tim DeBoom, former winner, DNF’d, along with last year’s winner, Normann Stadler, who didn’t even start the run after bike difficulties.

We stayed and cheered on lots of finishers at the raucous finishing chute until finally calling it a day. As we walked the run course in reverse toward the car, we came across Sarah Reinertsen, about a mile from the finish, smiling and looking good. In the distance we heard the crowd going nuts to see her, the first female amputee ever to complete the race.

The whole Kona Ironman spectating experience was phenomenal.

Sunday, before our flight home, I was able to run 7-8 miles of the run course and spend a few more hours at the beach, getting tossed about in the waves and soaking in the final moments in the sun and sand.

Racing in Worlds, witnessing the Hawaii Ironman firsthand, and seeing some of the most beautiful islands in the world was quite an experience. I’m so grateful I got to live it.

With winter sneaking up, I hope these Hawaiian memories can keep the fire inside of me burning and inspire me to set new goals and dream of big things in 2006.

Mahalo,
JPD

EPO Drug Maker Sponsors Bike Race

Amgen is sponsoring one of the largest U.S. cycling stage races.

Running For His Mother

The New York Daily News features John Henwood, who has returned from the funeral of his mother in New Zealand to reenter the NYC Marathon. The 33-year-old New Yorker, who stands 6'-5" and was a 2004 Olympian in the 10,000 meters for New Zealand, ran a 2:17 in his marathon debut earlier this year.

Hawaiian Diary: Part 3 - Post-Race Honolulu Vacation

Read Part 1 – Pre-Race
Read Part 2 – Race Report

Sunday, October 9
After hanging out and watching all of our friends finish, we check the preliminary results, grab our bikes, and head back to the hotel. Season Over!

My feet are cut up pretty badly from not wearing socks on the run. My shoes must have gotten wet and weren’t broken in enough. Glad I brought Band-Aids.

I grab a burger from Jack-in-the-Box and relax at the beach for a while. Off to the awards ceremony, which is on the beach. Build a sand bench to watch the feature movie on the big screen on the beach. Enjoy some food and drink while watching Bend it Like Beckham. It is so relaxing, lying back under the Hawaiian stars. It’s a soccer movie, too, which is right up my alley. Very cool.

Monday, October 10
Mark, Mary, and I go rent surfboards. Mark gives us a quick lesson and we head out to the waves. After getting yelled at by a lady, I move to the side. Finally get up on a wave and it lasts about 20 seconds – what a rush!! But I can't replicate it. Now I know why surfers wear shirts -- my chest is totally chaffed from the board. I see a huge turtle that looks like a dead body floating (yikes). Later that night someone asks Mark and me if we want “company.” Rather than ask her to define “company,” we say no thanks and continue on our way as she poses her follow-up question: “Why not?”

Tuesday-Thursday October 11-13
Snorkeling, beach, bike a little, run up to Diamondhead crater. Legs feel surprisingly good. Eat some good food. Survive a run-in with the law. Hawaii 5-0 (Honolulu undercover) does us a favor by not throwing us in jail. We didn’t know you can’t sip a beer on the beach, honestly. If letting us off the hook had anything to do with fitness, I’d Activate you. Mahalo. Do the sightseeing climb to the top of Diamondhead overlooking Oahu. Nice view. Enjoy the Hawaiian bands at local restaurants. The one playing at our hotel is very good — and they have hula dancers.

Friday, October 14
Time to leave Honolulu and head to Kona on the Big Island to watch Ironman. We leave behind perfect weather, 10-minute drizzles, rainbows, cleanliness, and smiling people. I will miss seeing people walking through city intersections with just a bathing suit on and surfboard tucked under their arms.

The Mystique of Sir Roger Bannister and the 4-Minute Mile

Runners are still judged by the gold standard that Bannister set in 1954 as a 25-year-old Oxford graduate. Read The Daily Star column.

"There was a widespread belief in 1954 that the human heart and lung could not withstand a sub 4-minute mile run, and that the run would kill the person attempting it!"

The Darkest Morning

Last Saturday — the day before we switched to standard time from daylight savings time — was the darkest morning of the season, with sunrise not coming until 7:25 AM.

At about 6:50 AM, as I drove in the dark to meet the guys in the park for our scheduled 19.75-mile run, panic suddenly swept over me. I checked my gear bag as I drove and, sure enough, I had forgotten my double-caffeinated Tangerine Power Gels. At that point I had two options: Turn around and grab two from my endurance nutrition pantry back in my condo or continue on and bum some off Ty, who always brings extras. I knew that Ty favors Tropical Fruit-flavored Power Gels, which often don't agree with the X Man. Yet my only other choice was to violate my self-imposed sacrosanct rule and be late for our 7:00 AM run. Uncool! I chose to be on time and gag down Ty's Tropical Fruit gels at miles 8 and 13, and believe me, I paid in term of performance reduction due to stomach cramps. If I had my Tangerine gels and caffeine boost, there's no way Billy would have stayed with me for the entire distance. But he did, so what can I say? This truly was the darkest morning.

On Sunday morning, meanwhile, after setting their clocks back one hour, unmotivated people across the U.S. enjoyed an extra hour of sleep. Me? I see this switch to standard time and gift of early-morning daylight as an opportunity to try a new workout that I typically don't have time for. This year I planned to run an hour of fartleks on the golf course. Unfortunately, I forgot my can of dog Mace and the head greenskeeper's Doberman chased me away. I enjoyed a slight boost in speed until I reached the fence, but I didn't exactly get in the distance I had wanted.