When you fear something, you likely know one of two things about it. It is either so distant, so remote from your current status, it is almost moot. Or, it is so imminent, so inevitable, and so utterly possible; you just have to face it.

Today I faced my fear – conquered my inhibitions - and guided myself home. The fear could not be realized without trying. For this fear was a man of empirically, demonstrable proof. Fear was a people of collected anticipations. It existed subconsciously, but never was harvested. He never came to fruition. Fear needn’t be verified, for it was… It just hadn’t become manifest yet. In the words of an accomplished musician, fear and I had an intimate mutual constitution. “I will try to fix you.”

Planning a bike ride in a metropolis is always a gamble. Pot holes, rush hour rotaries on interstates. Hairpin turns on off-ramps, and yielding signs that are governed by a 4:50 meltdown at some office park, where someone will stop at nothing to get home.

Interstates are a curious device. They no longer represent the legitimacy of the Eisenhower Interstate System, nor the brilliance of civil engineers long ago praised. They now are exhibitions of vehicular anarchy. Speeding not in the travel lane, but in the break down lane…on both sides. Running red lights “just because” you don’t see another car perpendicular to your machine. And not giving a damn about the poor child trying to learn to ride her bike on training wheels, or the runner coming back from an injury, just testing the tar for their own personal salvation. I abhor motorists.

Today I blew a tire. No big deal, except I didn’t know where I was - It was 92 degrees - In rush hour on a state road - No one to call, or no way to fix it. So I pounded the pedals until I found a bush. I hid the machine in the bush, ditched the helmet, and salvaged the water bottle. I began to run.

I ran over 6 miles in cycling cleats, and a sore ankle that wasn’t supposed to be run on until next Saturday. I developed a nice, 4-inch scar on the forefoot of my right foot, a strong, deep bone ache in ten toes. And a back that feels like it can’t be relieved. But I also found something that I knew one day I would have to do: Look after myself. Cover my back. Not rely on the cell phone, my ineptitude at mechanical repairs. I had to suffer through this to guide myself home.

Now I have something else to remember. A story. Not a story of immediate understanding, but one that won’t be smiled upon for many months, maybe years. But maybe someday, I’ll face this fear again. However it may resurrect, I know it will be again. But it will not be, fear.

I want to tell you how good it feels when I run.

Conceive of a day so jovial, so convenient so unforgiving of complete happiness. It may be a reunion with family, the joy of playing with your dog in a bristling grass, absent a cloud. Or it could be just throwing rocks out across a bay at sunset. Whatever your pleasure, ill or good, pious or corrupt, you have something that makes you smile like a child. This is what I remember when I run.

It began yesterday, when I came home to see my parents, and exchange talk about everything. It was a torrential downpour for about 2 hours, and then it cleared up, so my idea of riding for a good weekend long ride began to seem more plausible. So I headed out, and about 20 or so miles into the ride, it began to sprinkle. The skies went dark, the leaves turned, and thunder barked. Then lightning, and then more rain. I continued to ride, laughing so hard I could barely keep my eyes open. I felt that day as if I could have ridden to Canada.

Then I went out last night with some good friends into the city, partied quite a bit and then slept in. After breakfast, and watching the final stage of le Tour, I went out for a run. What was going to be 5 recovery miles, turned into a tempo run. Six, that seventh mile somewhere, the hour mark at 8 miles, then to throw my iPod back into my mailbox, ( I wasn't needing it), 9 miles at the 7-Eleven, then 10 miles back from the Train Station. Tempo. No reason, just wanted to play XC in the city; What were once mud puddles, are vats of automotive goo in front of the auto garages. The large logs and bushes are replaced by steel beams and abandoned shopping carts. This is my concrete jungle.

This weekend has been filled with honest training, vivid celebration and unparaled productivity. And it has been happy.

The longer I continue to run, that is, the time since I started running until now, the more often I reflect on running, and what I was doing when and where I was running a particular route.

The more I digress, the more the present seems to fade. This paradox is manifest in my daily runs. For every time I hit the roads, I don't necessarily expect something spectacular. I do expect complete and utter contentment, in the pursuant completion of this little thing I love.

I only mention this, because I'm sure that years from now, I will remember a collection of runs in a new city, with new people, at a juncture that was unique in its own original being. And for this I'm grateful.

Heaven: Re-Visited



In the late summer of 2006, I entered what I now regard as the greatest week of my life. A time when I was among the best of my friends, above my preconceptions, and beyond the limits of my body. I was in love with where I was, whom I was with, and what I was doing.

I know full well, that I cannot go back there as I once was. But I can gather my thoughts, my memories, and my lessons, from this euphoric time, and hope to transpose them onto a new beginning.

Leaving 100 Acres and XC was an end, but I am now entering a new beginning. Symbolizing renewal, as well as change. I now an alive, in full spirit, with three great young men, whom are all passionate about our lives, or ambitions, and our hopes.

But today, something was marked. I brought a good friend, whom has no organized athletic background into my happy place. I took him to Appleton, with my other marathon veteran buddy.

If there was one place, that could entice one to try a run one more time, it is this place. And it was this place at sunset, that elicited the giddiness of a summer day in the backyard.



When I was a child, I recall coming downstairs into the living room, where my parents were casually watching a poorly transmitted video signal of the world’s most prestigious road race – The Boston Marathon.

I watched it with great enthusiasm and vigor, irrespective of their paces, their training or their form. I simply watched these great men and women run something which was distinguished, from beginning to end. I was inspired.




I went out to my backyard, (less than one acre) and ran several laps around my yard. Imagining I was running the Boston Marathon. Running the world’s most prestigious road race.

Then I ran it.

Running Boston in 2005 was the greatest day I’ve ever known. There’s no denying that. But the other day, I watched a brother and sister whom are my neighbors, go outside and ride their bikes to the end of the block, and back. Then back out to the end, and back again. I had just stepped outside to start a ride on my bike, after watching the Tour de France on television. I , like before, had been inspired. And instantly I was sucked into a vortex of paradoxical regressions, unprecedented in scope or in depth. I was this 7 year old on his bike again. And I have never felt stronger.



But today, I was inspired again. My rookie running buddy, ran in my old shoes from Disney. Five miles in my happy place. At one point, he stopped to walk for a few minutes, then began running again. To which he said “Weird, it actually feels more comfortable to run than walk”

Following this, we decided to take a swim. We all swam, and my new running buddy ended up piercing his pad on the bottom of his foot, ushering us to the ER on a Sunday night. After being stitched up, he stuck my old shoe from Disney back on his bandaged foot, claiming “Its all ‘numbed up, no worries”

I am beaming with pride.

This is heaven, re-visited.

Not too sure what happened today.

I got in a solid long run at the lake. Really felt strong, and ran with one of my best running buddies, whom is one of my best friends. Witness the paradox of the running life.

I came back, cleaned the apartment a bit (I am anal retentive in my private life too!)

I then decided to try a ride, in a city I have no idea how to go about navigating. Then it happened.

I began to haul a$$. Without even trying. Just started to cruise, laughing in the wind, and flying in between cars and the like. Singing fun, fun fun.

I have given up coffee, to exhibit fiscal restraint. But I did buy some Diet Mountain Dew. I drank two cans earlier in the day, with lunch. I have been going to strength cycling classes at my gym, which perhaps helped - But holy mackerel, I quite literally felt invisible.

Maybe cycling does have a deeper purpose after all. But I still don’t know what happened today, and I like that.

Recently, there has been an abundance of issues here in the Commonwealth, which assert that multi-sport, or endurance sport, is inherently dangerous. Deaths in a local triathlon, runners collapsing on 5 mile fun-runs, and other similar isolated issues, have had hungry journalists chomping for a chance to denigrate endurance athletes.



Writing about something which one has no background in, takes talent. It is an art of research and assertion. Truth is not made from assertions.



Moreover, those who routinely criticize the sport, are routinely frustrated with their own self. Their lives are inherently disappointing, devoid of ambition or progress, seeking whatever minimal illusion of safety and comfort they can.



I work in a large city, and come home to a smaller city, which is part of Metro-Boston. On any given day, I can look at a person, or a group of people, and nearly summarize their physical history, what their habits are, and what socioeconomic background they are from. Yes, I am wrong at times, but there are certain dogmas which do exist. This is life.



But then there also those who claw. Who refuse to maintain, or become utterly exhausted with the world’s “routine” They dig upward, pushing as hard as they can, even when their neighbors and families and colleagues deny their progress. But once the progress is certified, and the results reaped, those who didn’t believe, who cling to their own dying present, are left in a state of consternation.



In one of the articles I have read, it cited a man who went into cardiac arrest during a five-mile fun run. The man was a former athletic director of a local high school. After his collapse, a runner grabbed an AED from a police cruiser, and resuscitated him.



At the present, I know what gratifies me, what makes my day complete, and what I look forward to every day. It is not easy, nor is there always glory. There are not always PR’s, and there most certainly isn’t perfect weather. But there is pride…even arrogance.



But more importantly, I don’t lie awake thinking about my mistakes. About what I could have done. For it was done, regardless of how hard, or how painful, or how long it took. I don’t shutter at the idea of forgetting the world and its obligations and its perceptions of me, or what danger I’m doing to myself.



The world turns, but we don’t feel it move. A lot of things transpire in the course of a day, and a lot of things can go wrong, or go right. Most of these are beyond our hands.


But at the end of the day, I take sober satisfaction, knowing that that the world will not destruct in my absence. And neither will I.

I had not run in three days.
Though, I have trained intensely on the elliptical and bike. But I am in the vortex of endurance season. The Tour is in full swing. Triathlon is on major networks. And I’m not running.

I’m just lying in bed. (Well, not really… but the metaphor is apt)

I have a litmus test of joy – When I wake up in the morning, if I am ready to train because I want to, I do just that. Out of free will and passion for sport. Not because I “Must” If I have the slightest notion of drudgery, I go back to bed.

My life is an a joint of promise and understanding. It has become a linchpin of my future. But I have also achieved balance.

Today I ran in the AM. The leg felt exponentially better than the last time I tried it out. Work went well, but my special someone I only got to speak with for a moment or two (oh technology I loathe thee)

Then came back for a strength spin-class. I have found that structure in workout truly does produce visible and emotional results. I must have sweat out approximetly 2 pounds of fluid. Good stuff.

Good stuff, indeed.

Quite honestly, I don’t know what happened this morning.
I set my alarm quite early to rise after my off-day yesterday. Primarily, I took yesterday off because I’ve been feeling a pain in my medial left calf area, the same area my former injury was only on the other leg. Otherwise, I would have trained well.

So today I set my alarm for around 5:00AM, to get to the gym early and try to run on the treadmill. I woke up, got out of my pajamas. Looked at the floor, got back in my pajamas, and went back to bed. I heartily apologize for this egregious act.

Perhaps its because I was subconsciously questioning the strength of my leg. If it would hold up, etc. Or maybe because I knew I was scheduled to exit work early today, so I could simply run or workout then.

Some days, you just have no idea.

Quite honestly, I don’t know what happened this morning.
I set my alarm quite early to rise after my off-day yesterday. Primarily, I took yesterday off because I’ve been feeling a pain in my medial left calf area, the same area my former injury was only on the other leg. Otherwise, I would have trained well.

So today I set my alarm for around 5:00AM, to get to the gym early and try to run on the treadmill. I woke up, got out of my pajamas. Looked at the floor, got back in my pajamas, and went back to bed. I heartily apologize for this egregious act.

Perhaps its because I was subconsciously questioning the strength of my leg. If it would hold up, etc. Or maybe because I knew I was scheduled to exit work early today, so I could simply run or workout then.

Some days, you just have no idea.

“Heaven forbid, you end up alone”

Since I’ve regularly resumed running, something has been so readily apparents, so overwhelmingly flagrant, I must exude it.
The masses are fixated on stress. Not just the stress that comes up from the duties of one’s daily toil. But a degree of frustration, both voiced and cloaked, that is fundamentally unhealthy. I have met a few people in the last few days, whom defy this, but for the vast majority of my encounters, I find people are quite frustrated.

That is my observation, nothing more.

It is medically demonstrated, that the heart and body are fused. But today, a dichotomy was inherently manifest.

Yesterday, I initially was going to do a light elliptical workout at my new gym. But I woke up, and with the optimistic ideals of a weekend to come, I decided to get my long run done on this 90+degree day in the city. Armed only with my iPod and my Mobil SpeedPass, I ventured.

It was a total of 16 miles, going as far as two cities over, and ending at a breathtaking lake, which for the moment goes nameless. Runners abound encircled it. Beaten dirt paths encapsulate tall and regatta ships. For the moment, I forgot I had another 8 miles to go.

I then turned around. At about mile 14, my head began to pulsate. I forefitted the iPod. The decibel level near the lights was astronomical. Jack hammers and paving trucks must have made the gross temperature over 110 degrees.

I then just poured the rest of my bottle of endurance formula over my head, in efforts to alleviate the sweltering temperatures.

I made it back, here. But now the elements of my soul are fused again. And I’m alone

Today was a revolution.
A new beginning.
My first run in my new home. 9.56 miles of concrete jungle, some trail, and a view of the Boston skyline that I’ve waited my whole life to see.

I mapped most of the run out at work today, and then came home to manifest myself among a running store, a Starbucks, two grocery stores, and a beautiful pond.

Today was a great day, of even better new beginning.