Since I transformed my lifestyle 6 years ago, it’s been my goal to try and inspire others to get rid of their sedentary ways and get active. I personally saw what it did for my health and well-being and wanted to share that with as many other as I could. While I was less successful than I had hoped, I’ve taken satisfaction in the few people who joined our ranks. It’s also fun to watch as they have in turn inspired others to take up running as well.

With that being said, I pose a challenge to all runners. To combat the challenges our country faces with childhood obesity, it’s time to ingrain in our kids our healthy, active way of living. If you have kids, you’re already having an impact and you don’t even know it. Kids are extremely receptive and just seeing you head out on your training runs or supporting you at races already is making a huge impact.

Now it’s time to take it to the next level…let’s get them out there with us!!! It’s going to take a little sacrifice on our parts. You’ll need to change up your training schedule to get some short runs in with your kids but it’s going to be well worth it. I have so much fun running with my boys. You’ll share more with each other on the roads and watching them achieve goals you’ve set is rewarding for not only them but for you as well.

This weekend’s Running with the Devil 5K will mark the first timed 5K my kids will run. I’m hoping that the competitive juices will flow thru their veins and they will experience the same joy and rush we adults get out of races. This is where the foundation will be laid for what I hope will be a long, rewarding lifetime of fitness.

While I’ve had to change my own running goals, I can’t imagine a better reason to change course…can you?

RMFR

I don’t like 5K’s*. OK, I’ve said it. Prepare your insults and fire away!

I have a hard time justifying paying money to run a training run. Sure, it’s cheaper than your longer distances and you can find one to run every weekend but I still don’t like them. Yes it’s cool to be part of the throng at the start, get goosebumps and add another t-shirt to pile but I still don’t like them.

Oh wait…there’s an asterisk? I don’t like asterisks either but let me clarify. I don’t like running 5K’s alone. Since I’ve started running, I’ve saved 5K’s for family time. If I can’t run a 5K with a family member, I won’t run it. The distance is short enough that my kids and wife can cover the mileage by running/walking and still able to have fun.

My youngest son (8) joined me a couple of weeks ago at the Las Vegas Susan G Komen event. It’s always a joy to watch my kids take in the surroundings of each event and push themselves to their physical limits. As parents and runners, we carry the responsibility of passing the torch to younger generations. While they might not take to sport right away, our actions can sometimes speak louder than words.

My father was one of those crazy runners when I was young. He never pushed me to join him during his mega mileage weeks or even to join him on a cool down. The memories of his running lifestyle though still stick with me today from his glued shoes to his white cotton shirts. While I may not have run by his side then, I do now because of the example he set so long ago.

RMFR

McDonald’s.

For some, Happy Meals come to mind. Others smell French fries at the mere mention of Mc… Many see the golden arches in their mind’s eye. Me…I think 25:47. That’s what I clocked in last year’s Ronald McDonald House “Runnin’ for the House 5K.” Today was the 2011 version, and I had my sights set on bettering my time and possibly claiming third place in my division. Last year I was 4^th.  Blah.

I was race ready. Had my pasta. Talked a little Hamburglar smack to get myself pumped up. Slept well. Ate my banana. Marveled at the perfect weather. Enjoyed the pre-race fanfare. Stretched with the man of the hour – Ronald McDonald. Limber, loose, relaxed…check, check, check. iPod, blue hat, timing chip…check, check, check. Let’s get this party started!

The USATF Certified 5K Course is flat and fast. Not tricky stuff. If you can get over the fumes coming off cars on Sahara, Jones, Oakey and Decatur, you’re back to Ronald McDonald House on Potosi in no time celebrating with pancakes and happy folks.

My strategy: run mile 1 in 8.5 minutes, mile 2 in 7.5, mile 3 in 7 and then crush it to the finish line. Having just come off some personal milestone finishes in the Summerlin half-marathon and Red Rock half-marathon, I felt solid and good to go.

Then I started running.

The gun went off. Through the balloon arch I sailed.  I was doomed. I was running WAY faster than I intended…leaping curbs and small children, cruising past vehicles and the best male runners. By the time I began to adjust, it was too late. I hit the one-mile mark in 7 minutes.

And then…the chainsaw. Vrrrrrrrrrr….(can you hear it?)

A side stitch ripped into me like a Mack Truck. I couldn’t breath or move, let alone run. I tried sucking air into my diaphragm. No use. I was TOAST. The pain was so intense I thought I might collapse and get trampled. Knowing that would make for a bad start to the weekend, I abandoned my “c’mon Maras, DIG DEEP” attitude and accepted reality. This is one race I wouldn’t finish.

I slugged to the nearest parking lot, recovered in the employee of the month’s spot, and then…what the heck…listened to a few soothing tunes. Why not? I had a great view of the race and nothing but time. After all, I had to wait for the runners, walkers, strollers and designer dogs to pass before I could run in the opposite direction to my car. Twenty minutes later, I peeled off my race bib and ran mile 1 in reverse. I must have looked ridiculous getting in my little morning jog on Sahara Avenue.

Getting a friendly wave from the motorcycle cop helped.

So did focusing my lobe on the next race, and smiling at the fact that this was my most interesting “finish” to date!

What started out as a desperate situation in the Denver International Airport turned into one of the coolest running experiences I’ve ever had. This is the story of how three strangers joined forces to get to Fargo, North Dakota at any and all costs.

Our flights left early Friday morning from three separate airports. While all were short in length, the anticipation of flying to a marathon destination made minutes turn into hours. Upon landing, the connecting flight to Fargo had to be found. Finding the departure board was the first thing on all our minds and being runners, the distance would between gates could easily be reached, no matter the time constraints. Scanning the sea of on time flights, fate would have it that the flight to Fargo was not just delayed…but canceled.

On any other day, this would be considered an inconvenience but today, it was as disaster. With the 5K scheduled for later that evening, every attempt was going to be made to toe the line when the gun sounded. Nothing was going to keep these three strangers from making their destination…no matter what.

Separately, we all made it to the now canceled gate and eventually the United (yes I’m calling you out) Customer Service counter. As fate would have it, we all ended up at the smaller counter and not the mile long line we would encounter on the way to our eventual destination. The funny thing about being a runner is we can sniff each other out. Whether its the physique, the apparel or even the reading material, we know who we are. While standing in line, we found each other and instantly started formalizing a rudimentary plan. OK, to be honest, we didn’t have a plan – we winged it. While the agent proceeded to tell us we were booked on the first flight out Saturday morning, the wheels set into motion.

Us: “Can you get us to Grand Forks, ND.”
Them: “No available seats.”
Us: “How about Bismarck, ND.”
Them: “Not until later tonight and there might not be seats available.”
Us: “Minneapolis then Fargo!!!”
Them: “There are no seats available to Fargo from any city today.”

By this time, we started joining forces and racked our brains to come up with a city we could fly into and then drive to Fargo in time for the evening’s race.

Us: “Sioux Falls, SD.”
Them: “Oh, well yes, we have plenty of seats to Sioux Falls.”

Before the agent could even finish saying “yes” we had already slammed our tickets on the counter and had her book us seats immediately. Once we had the third member of “Team Fate” on the flight, we began to figure out how in the world we were going to traverse the 250 miles to Fargo. As luck would have it (there was a lot of luck flowing that Friday), one member of our running trio had enough points to reserve a car in Sioux Falls and it would be waiting for us when we arrived.

So here we were. Three runners who never knew the others existed being brought together by a higher power to share a running story that will not soon be forgotten.

Eric Selvig from Las Vegas – a running brain flying to his hometown to run with his family and looking to refuel his spiritual tank.

Dan Harbeke from South Jordan, Utah – a PR Director for Union Pacific going back home to run in his third Fargo Marathon.

Jeff Schiller from Nampa, Idaho – a CPA with his legs set on running marathons in 50 states (Fargo would be his 27th) who had the best line of the trip. “If you can’t get me there today, send me home.”

Not seated together on the flight to Sioux Falls, we still really had no idea who each other were but that was about to change. The 3 1/2 hour drive to Fargo could have been 30 minutes and I don’t think any of us would have known the difference. For as bad as the day looked when we all arrived in Denver, the drive was one for the running books.

We shared a common bond – running – and each had a story to tell (or ten). For every story and factoid there was another just as interesting around the bend. There were no awkward silences. We talked over each other and bit our tongues waiting for our turn to chime in. It was the most intense conversation I think I’ve ever been involved in. Jeff and Dan knew the same people. Dan and I shared home town experiences. We quizzed Jeff about Boston, New York and his goal of 50 states. Running strides, shoes and motivations. Diets, clothes and weather conditions. What we shared wasn’t personal (in fact I had to do some searching write this story), but it was a passion for running that can be found on the streets, trails and races all around the world. It’s the bond of the runner that turns complete strangers into comrades. Our paths may not cross again but I consider them both friends.

God works in mysterious ways. I can’t speak for the others but my soul needed a lift and it was provided to me tenfold. I never could have planned this to happen but thank God it did.

Our paths did cross once more after the weekend was over. I saw Jeff on the late local news being interviewed after the race and happened to be on the same flight with Dan on Sunday, flying back to Denver…where this wonderful journey all began.

RMFR

For the past several months I’ve been down. Through injuries, work and everyday stresses…I’m spent emotionally. I haven’t had the same enthusiasm and passion for running as I normally do and the proof is right here on the blog. The longer in between posts, the worse it is. When things are normal, I have more drafts ready to go out then I have time to write.

This weekend, I’m hoping the tide will turn. I’ll be heading up north to Fargo, North Dakota to participate in the Fargo Marathon Weekend. I’m going back home to run on the streets I once called home and I hope it’s just what the doctor ordered…a hit of passion. There are family and friends running in every distance (5K, 10K, half marathon and marathon) and the social aspect of running should be at an all time high. Friends I haven’t seen in 15 years. Family I haven’t seen in 5.

This weekend will also mark the first time I will get to run with my father since I’ve started running. Growing up, he was a maniac before there was an official club. He’s enlisted the help of a trainer to help him work thru his injuries to run a 5K. It won’t get any better than that until the roles are reversed and my kids come back to run with me. I’ll also be running with my sister, her husband, a great friend and my 86 year old grandmother (OK, she’ll be walking but I be right there by her side). That covers Friday.

Saturday will be the half marathon where I hope to overcome all my injuries from the year to let my hair down and let it all hang out. Add into the mix 20 or so family members and you’ve got emotions to the nth degree. If this weekend doesn’t lift my spirits, I either dead or lost.

Here’s to a weekend full of emotion and a recharged battery!!!

RMFR

“When I was 12 or 13, the first day I went out, there was a mile cross country race on and they said, ‘You can’t compete, you’re too young,’ because it was a race with 18-year-olds and like that, and I cried, literally cried, because they wouldn’t let me run the race. So they said, ‘Okay,’ and I beat all these guys who were 18 and over, because I wanted to accept the challenge.”
– Eamonn Coghlan

First of all, can you say run on sentence? Second, ever since I’ve been running, I’ve had the utmost respect for young runners. I remember running a 5K and busting my ass to keep up with a 12-year-old.

I’d like to introduce you to one of my best friends in the entire world. Meet the Band-Aid Extra Wide Sport Strip. After years of searching for the perfect running confidante, I’ve finally found them.

As a runner, I find it highly amusing when I start talking to non-runners about how sensitive guys nipples get when running (I can’t speak for the ladies and I don’t think I would if I could). You see, there’s something magical that happens when you’ve been running for a couple of hours – your nipples and specialized sweat wicking technical shirt get very well acquainted. The results can be…well let’s say…devastating!!!

I for one have never reached the blood soaked shirt that some of my other running brethren have but I’ve come extremely close on occasion. Close enough that I’ve not been able to comfortably wear a shirt for a couple of days.

Until some scientist comes up with a way to genetically defeat this male dominated malady, you can bet me and my Band-Aid Extra Wide Sport Strips will be covering countless miles in breast bliss.

If you’ve never seen Andy Bernard’s 5K scene from The Office, please enjoy.