There are some things that lie so deeply beneath the surface, yet are insulated and hardened and protected by years of discipline and suffering, that they cannot be tapped until they are explicitly called upon. Witness the core of a distance runner.

One of my good friends, one of my classmates, and a fellow runner, has been injured for the better part of the year. He has endured treatment and trial, effort and exhaustion, all coming within inches of the simple wish of a run absent of pain.

Not pain as it is described with such facility in novels or television documentaries, but the kind of pain that is omnipresent and overbearing. The kind you sleep within, awake to, and exist inside.

My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He once wrote that

“In our sleep, pain which cannot be forgot, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against out will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God”

This isn’t the pain the jogger faces, when they casually go out for a “jog” on a beautiful summer day, only to realize the vast array of their ill-made decisions: Wrong lunch, wrong shoes, too much clothing. Nor is it the pain that comes when you finish your first cross country race, a period in which one is devoid of anything that remotely resembles cognition.

As one who has endured injury this year, it gives me great solace to hear of those who have conquered their discomforts. The courage to give in to the demands of injury is rarer than a personal record at Kona, or a world record at Boston. It requires more discipline than one could ever have envisioned, for it is a battle of the will, not a challenge to the body. One must vehemently combat the mind, while graciously yielding to the body.

The obstacles one faces upon returning to running after a hiatus are grand. It is often when one feels emotionally frightened, and scared to attempt to run again, that they are ready to return. Imagine, if you will, the inner fortitude and confidence, to discard all preconceived notions of pain and suffering, which has lasted for months on end, and simply run.

Any time you see a runner out on the road, I challenge you to notice the climate in which he is running. Anyone can jog in a 55 degree day with clear skies and golden retrieves toying through under-ground sprinkler irrigated lawns. It is an entire matter altogether to witness one emerging from a mudded wood, in a tropical storm, with nothing but their shoes and shorts, and perhaps a jacket.


My fellow runner has met the tests of self-inclination with temperance; Countered the preponderance of adventure with prudence, and can now begin to overcome his fears, with what Churchill called the apex of all virtues, courage.

There is pain in out sport. And suffering. And defeat and agony. But there is also experience and truth. In any event, the distance runner must experience all. And for wisest among us, emerge superior.

Sunday Bloody Sunday


I went fourth with no idea of what to expect. The only objective I had was honesty.

I’ve long believed, that the fundamental pillar of this test known as endurance sport, is truth. For the moment you begin to lie, to fabricate, or create a weak foundation, the entire structure upon which you invested your total energies into, implodes.

I maintained at the head of the pack for the duration of my run. Aside from a few illnesses, outside of my own jurisdiction, it was consistent.

The leg held up well, proved tough and resilent in the most challenging and taxing of terrain and climbs. The taper begins tomorrow, and I am ready.

There is no expectation for tomorrow morning, aside from delayed onset muscle soreness.

George Sheehan once wrote that you can’t just take a shower anytime you wish.
I have long held, that I refuse to shave my lip area when I don’t run. After a brief cat-nap, breakfast, and a shower soon thereafter, I can shave.




So now, I go fourth to my civilian duties, ready to rise up to tomorrow’s challenge.
In short, it has been several weeks since I suffered as much as I did today.

And I am learning to dig deeper, than I have ever before.

I abhor moments like these.

Yesterday was a phenomeal bike ride through the rolling hills of Weare. Covered 42 miles in less than 2.5 hours, was very proud of myself. Albeit, I forgot my water bottle, and had a GU packet. I have not been using GU for quite some time, so I figured I ought to re-acclimate my stomach with its devious ingredients. Worked it did.





Today being an off day, preparing for tomorrow's 20-miler, I spent the morning at a running store, getting lunch with friends, and studying. Now it is late afternoon, and tomorrow's run sits like a splinter in my mind. I've taken off days before 20-milers before, and they routinely do this to me. So I know its normal.

So I've turned to thought and written word. The run begins at 8:30: 9 miles of trail, followed by 11 miles or so of road. Gatorade Endurance Formula dilluted with water 50%. Tri-Berry Gu, and ambition.

This is my formula, and I'll let you how it tastes.

I often find it remarkable, how such a small portion of events, can so radically transform an entire week.
Tomorrow, I return to the trainer's office, to have a check up on my tendonitis issue in my lower medial right leg.

As aforementioned, I have been taking 9 Advil per day, along with icing and cross training and no running. Now what remains is that strange tightness, or twitches that saturate my daily endeavors. Though the load bearing exercises no longer hurt to perform, which is satisfying.

I have a great obligation on Friday and Sunday. Sunday marks the final 20 miler before Boston. I know it must be done. Friday, although no less important, is more of a personal endeavor with someone special. I have chosen to take this beautiful day, as an off day. Saturday too, will also be an off day. I intend on visiting home that day.


On a separate note, I found the following list quite enjoyable. I have posted it for your pleasure.

10 Signs You Are Becoming A Triathlete

1. You eat so much that all your friends think you have a tapeworm.

2. You sleep 10 hours a night and still need a 1-2 hour nap in the afternoon.

3. You have a hard time finding a group to ride with on the weekends because the “A” group is too fast but the “B” group doesn’t go far enough.

4. Happiness is riding or running until you’re tired, sore, exhausted and can barely walk.

5. You become neurotic, cranky, and borderline psychotic on rest weeks and a monster during the taper.

6. You feel like you’re undertrained if you’re not doing at least 2 workouts a day, and 3 is better.

7. You annoy all your coworkers by insisting on taking the elevator up 1 floor because you want to “rest your legs.”

8. When waiting in line at the grocery store, you casually stretch your quads, calves, and hamstrings.

9. A 20 mile bike, 4 mile run, and power weight session has become a nice, little workout.

10. Your resting pulse and blood pressure have dropped so low you have to take a long time to stand to avoid passing out.

Hi Anthony:

This last semester, I have firmly and empirically confirmed that now is a time which cannot be repeated. It is my final semester of undergraduate work, among some of the closest friends I have.
That is to say, much of what I’ve endeavored to fulfill has been a new adventure, a place where memories are forged, and previous notions are dissolved.

More importantly, this celebration signifies an end, as well as a beginning. Symbolizes renewal as well as change. I’ve been detoured from running the last 10 days or so, due to a persistent case of tendonitis. The first week was tolerable, as I was volunteering, and expected to sacrifice. The second week was more daunting. Cross training and icing and ibuprofen, has kept me sane.

Every year when the snow begins to melt, and the sun shines, and those whom were once slumbered in hibernation, become active. George Sheehan referred to them as pigeons -Easily identifiable by their brightly colored “jogging” clothes. Paradoxically, they run in pairs, yet both listen to their own iPods, distancing themselves from their partner. In short, those who do not run more than 3 times in a celestial year, run on these days.

The second phenomena that begins to happen, is people become wholly cognizant of this event called The Boston Marathon. They know they’ve seen you around; Running - or even riding a bike – or always in the gym, so they inquire the following:

“How long is this marathon?”
“Have you run that far before?”
“How do you run that far?”

Albeit, the distance is humbling. It redefines you as a person. I always find the greatest lessons not in the race, but in the training.

Those with whom I train with are brothers and sisters. My coach once said that after someone covers 6 miles of distance run, they become incredibly human. Nothing is more true. Lance Armstrong once spoke of the beauty of suffering, within le train bleu, or the blue train, when he used to ride for Postal. Training provides a cornerstone upon which humility is built.

The essential problem is the fact that I want to graduate. Return to a more disciplined form of training. Yet, I want to have no regrets. Therefore, in two months I will be somewhere else, and for the short time that remains, I must understand that the present will not re-appear.

With prudence and His blessing, Boston will be conquered.

“…all of us will be judged, and as the years pass, we will surely judge ourselves”.

I haven’t sleep well in the last week.
I was volunteering at an urban, preparatory junior/senior high school in New Jersey over my Spring break.

These were honest people, people whom when steeped, brew the essence of the American dream.

I wholly accepted that my training, diet and health would suffer.
I ran 4 miles on an indoor track Monday, aqua ran hard for an hour Friday, and followed that by a 1200m swim, and then 2.5 mile run on the same track. This was my training for Spring Break. For each day, I attained no more than 5 hours of sleep, and ate the most unethical meals and disobeyed every fundamental nutritional guideline that one could ever conceive; Gravy, pizza, soul food, McDonald’s, whatever we could afford and get at, we devoured.

I learned, sacrificed, and devoted myself more than I can aptly characterize here.

I developed a cough, then a sneeze, then a cold.
I then lost a voice that filled with insulated notions.

The voice would presuppose, pre-conceive, and narrow its inordinately small canal, for an abstract anomaly - The breach of a single ripple, driven to shatter the dams of injustice and flood the hollowness that is ignorance.

I know that the several games of basketball, have aggravated an existing calf soreness. I am taping it, and icing it ibuprofen etc. I’m scheduled to run Boston, and I have two 20 milers in already, peaking at about 55 miles per week.

Fact is, I essentially missed a complete week of all training. From all of this, I have been removed from what was a rock in my life.

Moreover, being encapsulated in an arena such as academia, makes one lose compassion for the suffering of his fellows.

This generation, has an obligation to plug the holes of misunderstanding with cement that is education, and aid the failing walls of arrogance with the tools of reason and practice.

This country is the light of the world, and yet even in its brightest cities, lie the darkest truths.


Witness my experience and truth.