Maras and Myers here, reporting from the Kiva Han Coffee Shop nestled between Pitt and Carnegie Mellon in 34-degree Pittsburgh, PA.

The first stop on our “Rust Belt” tour brings us to Pittsburgh (next up, Erie and Cleveland), where we had our first Eastern Time Zone ORB run. We put on a few extra layers, including gloves for me, for our run through Schenley Park. We ran the whole circumference of the park via the soft wooded trails overlooking downtown Pittsburgh, the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers, Carnegie Mellon and Pitt campuses.

The run included several highlights:

• The view of the St. John Charysostom Byzantine Catholic Church with its blue onion domes.
• The natural winterscape of the Bridle Trail in light falling snow (we could see our breath).
• The excitement of entering the Carnegie Mellon campus (those kids just look smart!) and taking in the architecture that somehow, is only found on academic campuses. Hogwarts would have been proud!
• Watching the Carnegie Mellon dive team practice through steamy windows (want to check open swim, Mike wants a pair of those swim jammers).
• Hooking up with the Pitt Rowing Team on the Carnegie Mellon track (they were off the rowers for the day).

Not sure who was more excited…us posing with the collegiate rowers, or them cheesing for the camera with what they (mistakenly) believe is Las Vegas’ finest running team. Evidently, all you need are matching ORB shirts and skull caps to be convincing.

RMFR (and don’t forget your gloves)

By Tara Maras

The four of us (running partner Mike Myers, me, our trusty ORB shirts) get a kick out of cardio tourism. We’ve logged miles from  California’s Golden Gate Bridge, Laguna and Newport Beaches to the top of Brian Head, Utah to the rain forests of Costa Rica. Closer to home, we’ve had inspirational…sometimes painful…training runs at Valley of Fire, Hoover Dam, Bonanza Trail and Red Rock Canyon. Then there’s running at 4:30 a.m. in downtown Las Vegas…in a category of exotic unto itself.

Like a basketball team enjoys breaking out the home jerseys and taking to their court, we love coming home to Pueblo Park. Located at 7663 Lake Mead Boulevard, just west of Buffalo Drive in Las Vegas, this 62-acre Summerlin park is a meandering oasis featuring overhanging trees, wide paved trails and plenty of sights. You’ve got nicely maintained swings, picnic gazebos, a pristine basketball court, loads of landscaping and a table for checkers (should you need a breather). There are walkers, runners, Frisbee players, rabbits and chipmunks and little fluffy dogs wearing Juicy Couture sweaters…oh my! As if that’s not enough variety, you may even encounter a fly fisherman practicing in the lawn for his upcoming trip to Christmas Island to catch “the big one.” Cool, right?

Let’s break it down. This 7-mile run is tough, but not call-in-sick-the-next-day excruciating.

• Start in the parking lot, use a big tree to stretch.
• Hit the paved trail, enjoy running through two tunnels and past beautiful scenery.
• When you make it up and out of the park, you’ll find yourself on Rampart Drive. Run South, past Angel Park golf course.
• Just past the course, hang a right up the paved trail that snakes between the course and Rampart Casino. (Follow the rabbits, they know the way. Seriously.)
• When the uphill going gets tough, focus on the grove of trees at the top of the golf course.
• Tag the big tree. This is critical! All ORB-sanctioned runs must include tagging!
• Turn around. Retrace your steps back to the parking lot.
• Then of course, tag the yellow gate.

This run is no joke…but it also doesn’t require a ski mask, which we’re in the process of packing for our upcoming runs in Pittsburgh and Erie, Pennsylvania. Hey Eric, our fearless ORB founder, can we get ORB parkas?

Stay tuned for “Slushology 101,” our running reports from the Keystone State!

RMFR

By Tara Maras

There’s running in the rain…and then there’s running in the rain forest. Ironically, our 5-mile run around Lake Arenal in Nuevo Arenal, Costa Rica was sunny, rain free and only mildly humid. But a weather report alone cannot even begin to tell the story of running in Costa Rica. Yes readers, CENTRAL AMERICA.

But first, some backstory.

We spent this past week visiting dear friends and wonderful hosts, Merlinda Gallegos and husband Paul Vigil, at the home they’re renting in the 1,000 person (and 500 dog) town of Nuevo Arenal. Why “new” Arenal? Turns out Volcano Arenal buried the old town and they gave it a second shot in the 1960s. This developing country gives new meaning to the word “beautiful.” Nuevo Arenal is a happy rural farming town where dogs running the streets smile, locals giggle when well-intentioned gringos (that would be us) order dinner en Espanol, and somehow – without wifi and cell phones – everyone knows simultaneously that the town is out of eggplant.

As for the setting, think “Jurasic Park.”
As for the insects, think “A Bug’s Life” (but without the cute).
As for the air, think pure, fresh oxygen oozing from countless leafy surfaces.

We hiked lush hanging bridges…relaxed in thermal rivers…saw Congo monkeys…swayed in hammocks…drank water from coconuts forced open with a machete…

Oh yes, and we ran!

Running in Costa Rica is unlike anything we ever experienced. On one hand, our senses were overwhelmed:

• the temperature warms your bones
• the breeze kisses your skin
• the soft earth on the trails along the lake makes for fast running
• the views are never-ending and magnificent
• time seems slowed…if not suspended

Then there are the realities of running in a developing country:

• the roads are without shoulders and laws for driving are questionable (no traffic lights in Neuvo Arenal)
• getting stared down by a bull with an attitude (corralled in by a fence that wouldn’t scare a chicken) is concerning
• Costa Rica is freakin’ hilly!
• depending on your source, the water is either super refreshing or cloudy and tastes a lot like the lake
• always over your left shoulder is that imposing Volcano Arenal…still smoking after all these years
• it’s hard to run anywhere without knowing if you’re trespassing or not (are the jail beds in Central America comfortable?)

That said, the miles were as hard and demanding as they were therapeutic and spiritual. Costa Rica’s beauty is unparalleled and begs you to come back. We accept the invitation.

(By the way, our post-run pancake breakfast made the realities a little less harsh!)

RMFR

By Tara Maras

Do you want to run to Arizona? Sure!

One tumbler of coffee, two PBJ sandwiches and some running gear later and we were on the road to Boulder City, Nevada. Bound for the parking lot below the old Lake Mead Visitor’s Center (closed for restoration), we knew today’s run would be fun and inspiring…and maybe require a post-run Advil.

Part trail run, part historical journey, part manmade wonder of the world, this 8-mile trek took us…

• along Lake Mead (beautiful, too low, chilly looking)
• through five 1920s era railroad tunnels (eerie, dark, and one with a Mammoth footprint, we swear!)
• through a power substation (DON’T SNEEZE!)
• down steep switchbacks to the Hoover Dam parking lot
• onto the majestic canyon road of Hoover Dam (Art Deco 1931-1935 memorials, gilded gold elevator doors, ghosts of the past, sweeping concrete civil engineering feats of wonder, plus the new Tillman Memorial Bridge, an expanse to behold)
• past the Nevada and Arizona time clocks, and onto the Arizona side

Getting there was fairly easy. We maintained a good pace, chatted it up and remarked on the beauty that is Boulder City. It’s getting back that’s the bitch. It tested our calves and hamstrings. We breathed hard. Our noses ran. We even whined a little. Why? The return journey takes you up and out of the canyon rapidly, as you climb stairs, switchbacks and high-angle trails that seemed oh-so-breezy on the way down.

This run is no joke…the perfect training for our upcoming Calico Racing Red Rock Half-Marathon in March.

The best motivator? The World Famous Coffee Cup is just a few miles away.

Calories burned = 800.

Calories consumed = 1,250.

We should have enough energy to make it home.

RMFR

By Tara Maras

A while ago, I had a really good friend of mine from college come to Las Vegas on business. We spoke beforehand and promised to contact each other when she arrived to meet up and catch up. Our original plan was for me to head down to the Las Vegas strip and we’d meet and have a few drinks. Well, there were a couple of issues with this plan: my work demands and those of my family. As hard as we tried, we just couldn’t get it to work. Add to this the fact that my parents were also in town, the demands on my time were stretched extremely thin.

Ready to succumb to defeat, the running spirits intervened. She had been running in the mornings before her conferences on the strip and I had happened to mention I was going for a long run on Saturday. Well, one thing led to another and we finally scheduled a running date up in Red Rock Canyon for the predawn hours the next day.

Navigating the strip in the early morning hours is a little different from other cities. The streets are not desolate and in fact are filled with the previous nights partygoers finally returning to there wherever they came. Lisa was ready and we headed up into the foothills of the Spring Mountains and up to the canyon in the still sunless sky. I love running while it’s dark and watching the sun rise. It has to be the biggest high I get from running and in Red Rock it’s tenfold.

We setoff from the entrance planning to run to the high point of the loop and then back – 9 miles total. Among the dark shadows of the red and gold sandstone, we talked and ran, talked and ran. There were no interruptions by waiters or struggling to hear one another over a driving beat from the DJ booth. We covered topics from college to what has happened since we last got together many years ago. We arrived at the summit just as the sun reached the top peaks and had someone take the photo above. Now that’s a souvenir that no casino could provide. Learning that a bike race was headed our way, we quickly setoff on our return trip.

While many of us have experienced runs like this before is irrelevant. The point of the story is this: never will I meet an old acquaintance for drinks again. You better hope your a runner because that’s where we’re going if you want to get together. Lisa and I shared a lifetime of memories and stories in the hour and forty minutes running together than we ever would have been able to share anywhere else.

Next time you come to Vegas, bring your running shoes and then give me a holler.

RMFR

Have you been to Marche Bacchus in Desert Shores? If you’re scratching your head, the cross streets are Buffalo and Smoke Ranch in the northwest. It’s French bistro meets wine shop with the unexpected twist of swans underfoot and jaw-dropping Lake Jacqueline five feet from your wine glass if you opt for patio seating. It’s Vegas’ best-kept secret and ranks #1 on my personal ambiance scale. The food and service are a solid B, but you don’t mind because you feel so dreamy relaxing the time away. They refill your French bread basket too. Tourists have no clue it exists. What’s not to “amour?”

Stay with me. We’re getting to the running part.

I went for lunch yesterday. Between sips of bubbly and bites of  “les sandwich,” my mind shifted to running, as I’ve been in search of inspiring routes for training runs. Sha-zam! This is perfect! I was so excited I nearly choked on the crouton in my French onion soup.

Back I headed to Desert Shores at 7 a.m. today. My plan was to have no plan. After stretching in the parking lot of Marche Bacchus and locking my Garmin to the satellites (I get a charge out of that every time…it’s just so cool!), I just started running…

Around lakes, over the bridge, up and down the slight hills that give the neighborhood character, out the bike path, along the little beach, past fishermen, dog walkers and couples hand-in-hand. I circled my favorite parts twice. I logged a pleasantly challenging seven miles while thinking the time away, one of my favorite activities. No run ins with dogs or crazy motorists either…though I did get very nervous when three ducks gave chase. They bite. Google it if you don’t believe me.

Put Desert Shores on your list. Maybe I’ll see you there. I’ll be the one running from these guys.

P.S. If you’re French and there’s a better way to say “beautiful run,” let me know. I’m not completely confident in Google’s translator!

RMFR

One of the things I’ve learned over the years is that distance running is more mental than physical. While it may not seem like it at mile 20, it’s your brain that gets you to mile 20 in the first place. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had mental blowouts with my id during runs. Just last week during the Rock-n-Roll Las Vegas Marathon, I had just as much trouble with my head as I did with my cramps and feet. I had unsuccessfully talked myself out of DNFing no less than 10 times over the last six miles.

So, its this same mental battle we must use when we’re disappointed with a race or training run. Sure you can beat yourself up after but once you’re done venting, let it go. There’s always that next race or run where things will go your way. Use it as motivation and a time to reflect on new goals.

That’s exactly what I’m doing, turning my negative into a positive. Instead of sulking over a poor performance, I’m using it as fuel for next year’s fire. The most races I’ve run in a year was this year – four (2 fulls/2 halfs). In my next post, I’ll let you in on my schedule for next year. Just like my last marathon goal, it’s a little lofty but what’s the point of setting easy goals?

RMFR

I set myself up for this. An extra half hour of shuteye was my downfall and I mother nature had her revenge!!!

I missed my easy 3-miler on Tuesday and decided to stack in on top of my 5-mile tempo run on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to some longer miles during the middle of the week to offset the stress a little bit. The one thing I wasn’t looking forward too was the forecast. A cold front was coming thru Las Vegas and the winds preceding it had already started howling early in the evening.

By the time I awoke at 5:30 a.m., the winds had whipped up to a constant 25 m.p.h. gusting to 35-40 m.p.h. Not wanting to skip another day of training, I strapped on my gear and head out into the waiting sunrise. At the beginning, it wasn’t that bad. Sheltered from nature’s full wrath by the surrounding homes, the first .8 miles were “breezy”. That was until I hit that stretch of Charleston/Rt. 159 heading west – straight into the beast.

A little foresight spared me from having to worry about a hat a flapping jacket but a face shield and leg armor would have been a good idea now…looking back. You know those stories your grandparents used to tell about walking to school – uphill – both ways? Yeah, this is another one. Not only did I have to fight the wind this blustery morning but I would do so – uphill.

On the way towards Red Rock, there’s a section that narrows towards the top as it cuts thru a hill. On an average day it’s a cool site – Wednesday morning, it was a NASA wind tunnel test. Struggling against an immovable object, a cyclist on the other side of the road circled back towards me and wished me luck, they weren’t having any part of this. With tears streaming from the corners of my eyes and the occasional gust expanding my cheeks, I carried on. Using the 45º angle running form, I made it to the other side with only 1 1/2 miles to go until I got my reprieve…or so I thought.

You might think it would be a “breeze” running downhill with a 30 m.p.h. hand on your back pushing you, but it’s not. It’s like being in a large fast moving crowd – move with the flow or be run over!!! If you’re not going fast enough, the wind made sure I almost toppled over. If there was any thought of skipping my tempo miles this morning, those thoughts were quickly quashed by this locomotive at my back.

The proof is in the numbers (I’m a numbers guy).
4 miles (headwind): 10:45 pace/mile
4 miles (downwind): 7:49 pace/mile

It was a crazy morning but one I’ll remember for a long time. It could have been deadly still and the run would have been just another 8 miles. Instead, I was treated to another running memory I won’t soon forget. Don’t always pack it in when the going looks rough, you never know what awaits you on the side!!!

RMFR

There are some runs when you just don’t know what to expect. You could run into somebody and share interesting stories, encounter a bizarre event or see something unexpected. It’s something totally different when you get throw a curveball from you kids.

In the middle of an easy 5 miles with my iPod on shuffle, who should come blaring thru my headphones but Alvin and the Chipmunks and their Witch Doctor anthem. After my initial shock, I couldn’t keep from smiling. Obviously, they must have been messing with my iTunes playlists and added this cult classic into my hard rock playlist.

They didn’t know they did it but it definitely added a little something extra into an ordinary run.

RMFR

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sonday, Sunday.

I’ve changed my running schedule. I am now moving my long distance running days to Sunday because Saturdays have become Sondays. This is quality time that my son and I spend cruising around the neighborhood – me in my running shoes and him on his bike.

As your kids grow older, the quality time we get to spend with them seems to get less and less. I’ve now found out how cool it is to run and break down the “little things” in life with him. We find time to talk about the important things in life: the future, television shows and Bakugan. Every once and I while we get a couple of life lessons thrown in for good measure but it’s not about lecturing. This is dad and son time. It’s about being together and being active. It’s about instilling a lifestyle that you hope will stick with him as he grows older. Most of all, it’s about memories. I want him to be able to look back on these times with fondness and hopefully pass them along to his kids.

One day this routine will grow into us running together. One day my youngest son will be able to join our duet. One day, this day will be known as Sonsday.

RMFR