Radnor Visits in Spring

I've always admired the beauty of nature. Yesterday, the kids and I walked three miles at Radnor Lake with Pepper. Kathryn and I talked about all the pretty things we saw - mostly flowers, seven deer drinking from the lake and caterpillars - while frog-crazy Will spotted a turtle in a creek. The blooms in late April are impressive.

Today after work, I took Pepper back to Radnor. The plan was a short, slow run - about four miles. Glad that was the plan because my engine's running like a 1987 Renault Alliance. I know because I owned one when I was living on restaurant tips 20 years ago. The French make great cheese. Cars, not so much.

I did enjoy the run. The weather in Nashville is outstanding - low 70s, low humidity, light breezes. Come late July and August, we will be getting our punishment. Pepper and I cruised over 10:00/mile, passing many dogs. Pepper and a mixed puppy named Toby seemed to strike up a great, though brief, friendship.

Dori goes for her monthly clinic visit tomorrow. She's a little apprehensive. Can't blame her, but all of this is in God's hands. I pray every day for the obvious. I want my girl with us for a very long time.

Post-Race Tidbits

After the race, I took a long catnap with Dori. Will and I then took in most of a Vandy baseball game. Around 6, I meandered over to my sister's house to decompress and drink a beer with her and husband Stephen. While there, a woman with Emily Litella hair and glasses (think Saturday Night Live, late 70s) approached their fence. With her medal around her neck eight hours after the finish, she started talking about the race with a semi-crazed look in her eye.

Anne said, "You raced? So did my brother!" ... and headed inside for an imaginary refill. Talk about backing over your brother after throwing him under the bus. Cordial Jim handled the matter with aplomb, congratulating her, then issued Anne her demerits. On the way to dinner, we saw "Emily" getting in a post-race jog, medal a-swaying. Bless her heart.

Dinner was at South Street, a favorite hangout. We grabbed a beer at the bar and met a guy from Boston who ran the marathon in 4:25. He said he was running a marathon or half marathon every month this year "so he can lose 30 pounds." There are other ways to do that, you know, I thought, but how can you spoil a dude's vacation? "Great time," I said, as he nodded while slurping oysters.

We ordered the BBQ Feast for 4. I'm a BBQ snob, but the platter was excellent - a full rack of ribs, two halves of chicken, pulled pork, corncakes with corn, cuban corn, black beans, fries and a killer white sauce. Best Q I've had since I fired up my smoker. Tasted good on Sunday, too.

The only way I'll run the CMM again is if I'm in a front corral. The logjam thing is really an issue, especially starting from a corral past 7 or 8. (Whine alert) Too many walkers and very slow runners start near the front, too many teams walk in a row of four or five, and too many people seem determined to run over you with their iPods at maximum volume. It's a great race, but it seems like organizers need to tighten things.

It's nice to have beer and coffee back in the rotation. Frozen yogurt and ice cream are on deck. I'm only planning one short run this week, a few walks with the dog and a long hike on Saturday. It's hard to whine about that.

Special Running Partner

Yesterday's run was meant to be.

Before my body would race Saturday, my mind decided to go on its own run - I didn't sleep a lick the night before. I "woke up" at 5, stuffed down a banana and a few Clif bars, applied Body Glide, and woke the kids (Dori was already up). When my crew dropped me off at Centennial Park at 6:30, a heavy rain came to an abrupt stop. The temp was a comfortable 57 with high humidity.

Before the race, I saw Carey Clifton, Dori's nurse practitioner at the longterm care clinic at Vanderbilt. She was having an issue tying her timing chip to her shoe, so I jury-rigged it for her. Dori loves Carey, and for good reason. She has a lot of spunk and spirit. We shared our corral numbers (12 and 14), wished each other luck and headed for pre-race bathroom visits. I saw my sister Anne and Mom at the start. Anne took some photos, posted above, of the start and at 4.5 miles where the family situated.

I ran the first mile in 8:50, which was too fast, so I backed it down a notch. Actually, the Country Music Half Marathon is so crowded, even with the wave starts, you have no choice in many spots but to back down. Miles 1.5 through 7 are very tight quarters. You're always aware of the Rambos who sprint through the crowd. One girl pushed me aside to break through a logjam, almost clipping my feet. One dude playfully brushed a friend, almost knocking over another.

At mile 2, heading up Music Row, I thought of the blood cancer patients fighting their battles on 11 North at Vanderbilt, to the right of us about a half mile away. Whenever I pass the hospital, I say a short prayer of hope and strength for everyone on that floor. As the pack cruised up Music Row, one young mom in Team in Training garb passed me. Her shirt struck me, as she had pictures of her with her young son who is fighting blood cancer, along with some inscriptions that included "11 North." That gets to you and inspires you.

At mile 4, I clocked a 36:20, a 9:05/mile pace. I began to recognize this race wasn't the day to shoot for a 2:00:00 finish. The humidity precipitated a very heavy sweat. I knew there were reasons to chill out and enjoy this race. This week, I recognized I was in between things - I'm still drained a touch from the Tom King Half Marathon and not 100% trained for this one. Yesterday's goals were to never stop and to punch through my last two nemesis miles on this course in 2006 and 2007.

As I'm heading down the hill on Belmont Blvd., getting ready to see Dori and my family at Christ the King Church, I thought about all of this. I saw a few friends of ours - Avery, Merrill, Laura and the Doyles - who yelled, "Go Jim!" Very encouraging. My dominant thought was how I really wished I were running with a friend. One hundred yards before I saw Dori, I saw Carey again. We looked at each other, shocked that we were reuniting among 30,000 entrants. I asked if she wanted a partner, and she said absolutely but she didn't want to slow me down. She was running 10:00/mile, so we compromised ... I dropped my pace and she upped hers to about 9:40/mile.

Then we saw Dori and the kids, along with my sister, Mom and our friend Linda. Dori beamed when she saw Carey and me running together. She had made a sign for me, Carey and two college friends, Dana and Jen, along with a thanks to everyone doing Team in Training. The kids held up their "Go Daddy!" sign. In a flash, Carey and I were on our way.

At Mile 5, I asked Carey how long she'd been working in the clinic. Seven years. I asked her what she thought of her job. "Bittersweet," she said with no explanation needed. Thirty seconds later, she said everyone in the clinic is very encouraged with Dori's progress. I mentioned Dori's cut on her foot had almost completely healed. I noticed the mile 6 marker, where my time was 55:15. Miles 7-9 went well, with light chatter between us. I asked Carey to tell me every song and artist that played on her iPod ... Queen, The Police mixed with some new stuff. Time was passing nicely, and we were enjoying the crowds, feeding off their energy.

Before Mile 10, I noticed Carey was beginning to drop some off my shoulder, so I slowed my pace a smidge. This was her first half marathon, and I was not going to let her slip back, if I could help it. I clocked at 1:34:18 at mile 10. We were on a 2:04:00 pace for me, 2:08:00 for her; Carey's goal was to go sub 2:10:00. As we headed through the Gulch, Carey started feeling it. I told her often how great she was doing. Right before Mile 11, I started feeling it. Minutes before, I saw the best sign of the race - "Click your heels," with a drawing of a pair of red shoes. In front of the Farmer's Market, Carey said, "I want to walk so bad." "Me, too, but we're gonna keep going," I said. "We're almost home."

I thought, "15 minutes left ... that's how long it takes to get the kids to school."

As we turned up James Robertson Parkway to begin a slow gradual hill into downtown, extreme pain visited. Carey dropped off my shoulder again, and I started getting more focused on me. At mile 12, I lost her as the hill began to steepen. I thought, as my legs burned and lungs went into overdrive, "This finish is for Dori," recalling visions of her hanging over the toilet repeatedly last October. I also thought of Robin and everyone I mentioned a few days ago. No giving in, only getting it done.

When I saw Titans Stadium at about 12.5, my adrenaline rushed. I picked up my pace, running harder until .15 miles before the finish line. I felt a bonk coming on, and instinctively popped my last energy gel. Things started to blur, as my body faded and mind clouded. This wasn't how I felt finishing the Tom King six weeks ago. I crossed in 2:06:10, besting my 2006 course record by 25 seconds. Instead of celebrating, I focused on staying upright. I almost keeled over a few times and thought a blackout was possible. I'm glad the wind didn't blow hard.

I grabbed some bananas, bagel and fluids, again feeling totally spent. I knew I'd run a good race because I'd left everything on the course. I wanted to lie down, but knew better. I couldn't chew my bagel because I was too tired, so I parked it in my mouth until I had the energy to munch again. It would be 45 minutes before I reunited with Dori and the kids; I actually experienced a little separation anxiety. When I finally found them, I bear-hugged my sweet wife. Will asked me if I was still going to run in San Francisco this fall. "Yes, Will, I am. That's our fundraiser this year." Dori said to remember how I feel before I ever take the full marathon plunge. Good point, as I watched the marathoners finish.

Carey finished in 2:12:26, an excellent run for her first half. I am very impressed by the grit she showed. My place was 3738 among 7921 men and 6341 overall among 21938. In my age group, I was 426 out of 935.

Congratulations to all of you who ran yesterday! What a great day for so many.

Course Record

I'll blog tomorrow with some details, but today's Country Music Half Marathon, my third, was a course record - 2:06:10 - by 25 seconds. The last mile was the hardest mile I've ever run, but I never stopped the whole run. No, not with Dori's and others examples of endurance and courage. To all you 26.2 runners, I have the utmost respect for your moxie. Until tomorrow ...

Experience Matters

I've enjoyed talking this week with several fellow runners who are planning to run Saturday. For most, the CMM is their first half marathon. I've realized I've been giving lots of advice this week about preparation and raceday approach and adjusting. Some examples:

- One girl is dreading the expected rain. I recommended she use lots of body glide on her feet to avoid blistering. Another girl just doesn't like rain ... I shared she won't notice it after she gets started and is focused on running. The rain will actually cool you!
- One girl said she hates hills. I told her looking up can be deflating when you're in pain. Instead, I foucs on watching my feet as I conquer tough hills because I'm proving who's boss - me, not the hill. Put your shoulders back and your eyes down, relax and run.
- One guy said he doesn't like most fruits, so I went through all the good carb fruits until he settled on apples. I told him brown rice, which he loves, is great, and he's loading up on it.

I kinda feel like Yoda or Obi-Wan-Kenobee. Experience, the force, Jedi mind tricks ... the whole bag. My problem in the Country Music has been Miles 11 through 12.5. After you emerge from the Gulch, you glide around the Farmer's Market and Bicentennial Mall before going up James Robertson Parkway. I've stunk it up here in my previous two races. My goal Saturday is to push through this wall and shave many minutes off my previous course best.

My last training run was 3.75 miles yesterday morning at 5:15. I've been stretching some, but I can tell I'm a bit tired. I've slept well (important before a race), but something's got my energy down a smidge. I know I'll be good to go in two days.

The CMM race program is showcasing 12 testimonials of triumph and tragedy, and at least half are about blood cancer battles. It's emotional stuff that has reminded me what this race is really about - Thousands of people are going to display tremendous compassion, courage and endurance for a loved one or a cause. Here's a testimonial in The Tennessean, one of many to catch Dori's and my attention this week, that supports that.

If you sleep in and miss this race, you are missing out. My favorite part of the course is the Music Row-Belmont Blvd. corridor, an area I know well. I use it as a training run and a way to get into downtown for work. The energy on Belmont is electric. People throw parties (imagine celery stalks in bloody mary's, kegs of beer, lawn chairs and speakers), college bands play on lawns, and family members hold up "Run, Mommy" and "Go, Daddy!" signs. It's Southern Hospitality and Fun 101.

Nashvillians, we'll see you Saturday, bright and early.

Impetus to Run

A few days ago, our dog Pepper, who is prone to the occasional high-energy fit, ran by Dori and scratched her foot. Dori cleaned and treated the wound immediately. The good news is the significant scratch looks like it's healing up well. Dori says she continues to feel good and she's eating well.

So why did I enter Saturday's half marathon? Here are a few reasons, besides the weather looking like it will be decent:

1. Dori
2. Dori
3. Dori
4. To honor the fight and spirit of Robin Groff
5. Our friends, Chuck, Tammy, Candy, Kim and others, and their families
6. My friend, Beth, her Mom, Becky, and their family
7. The successful lobbying by two children I love
8. The idea of running for fun and not to raise money
9. The possibility of running 13.1 with a friend and no iPod
10. Leukemia pisses me off.

Our good friend, Ann DeNunzio, ran a super Boston Marathon yesterday. Her husband, Al, reports her 3:47 time (8:41/mile pace) beats her previous Boston best by 10 minutes. Ann ran the last few miles for Dori, picking up her pace at the end after three miles of torturous hills in the 18-21 mile range. Ann smoked a few impressive local runners who are younger than her. Ann, you are an amazing, inspiring chick with a lot of heart.

Lance Armstrong said yesterday running a marathon is a lot harder than racing a bike. The equation is three hard hours on the bike is the same as one hard hour on the road. Lance ran a 2:50 Boston Marathon. The men's winner ran a 2:07, while the women's winner ran a 2:25. All of those times are super-fast.

I snuck in a run Monday morning at 4:30. The six-miler was intentionally slow. My only company on the road was a Purity milk truck, a local newspaper van and the sound of braking trains the other side of a fairly quiet interstate. My last pre-race run, an easy four-miler, will be tomorrow afternoon. I'll probably do the middle part of it at race pace.

Nutrition and rest are important this week. I'm grading out at a B-plus so far. Breakfast has included mango juice, dried mangos, bagels and raisins, with lots of bananas and oatmeal on deck. Lunch has been a chicken sandwich yesterday and a semi-hiccup in BBQ with beans today. Snacks have been Clif bars, fig newtons, a banana and Gatorade. Dinner has been hummus and pita chips to start, with pasta and fresh tomatoes last night and tonight's fresh ravioli, walnuts and sundried tomatoes. I slept great last night - nine hours. More good rest is needed.

Time to Carbo Load

Tonight, while watching me slurp a mound of brown rice and chicken at P.F. Chang's, Dori barked, "You're running (the half marathon), aren't you?" I said, "Probably," and then made the mental note to check the weather for the morning of the 26th when we got home. The forecast is mid-50s at the gun with a high of 70, so that was the clincher. I'm entered to run Saturday's Country Music Half Marathon.

I listed a goal of 2:05:00 on the entry form, which would be my course record. If I feel like I did at the Tom King in mid-March, I'll do better than that. My goal this race isn't time, though ... It's to have a good time. I want to find a few folks who'd like to sit on a 9:00/mile pace for 9-10 miles and then reassess if it's about finishing, helping someone else PR, or going ahead and burying the needle.

I ran a weird five miles at Radnor yesterday. The pollen had me coughing and wheezing a bit. I took the first 2.5 miles briskly, then headed up the steep hill back into Radnor. I tanked. I had to gather myself and walked for maybe two minutes, then got back on it at an easy pace. When I reached the top of that .75 mile climb, I felt fine again. In fact, I started feeling great so I decided to max out the last 1.75 miles. I sat on a hard 7:00/mile pace that I held the whole way. Final time: 44:00. When I was done, I felt like I could do another mile at the same pace. Bizarre and encouraging after the deflating tank 20 minutes earlier. I did wind up feeling the run later that night at the school auction.

Speaking of the auction, Dori and I bought a lovely platter that we gave sister Anne and her husband. We delivered it after mass, and Anne loves it! It looks great in her living room. The photo above does the platter no justice. It's more creme than white.

Before P.F. Chang's, we went to the VU-Auburn baseball game. We were named "fans of the game," so we hauled home a gift basket courtesy of the TN Pork Producers. In the basket was everything BBQ (like BBQ sauces, recipes and a meat thermometer), but buried at the bottom was a Harry and David jar of red raspberry preserves. Earlier this week, my Aunt Renee sent some information about some studies about the benefits of red raspberries to folks who have or had leukemia.

When I saw the jar, I looked at Dori, who was all slathered with SPF 70 sunblock on the bright day, and ruminated out loud, "Think that's a coincidence?"

"Nope," she said in wonder.

Our thoughts tomorrow morning are with our good friend, Ann DeNunzio, who is running the Boston Marathon. Her goal is a bold 3:45:00. Ann told me Friday she's dedicating mile 25 to Dori. We're eager to follow her and see her do well.

Looking Shocked

I forgot to share an encounter with a stranger earlier this week that struck me. While Dori and I were visiting Dan in the hospital, a lady turned the corner, saw Dori with her mask, and just stared at my wife. She couldn't hide what she was thinking - fear and shame. After Dori and I were out of earshot, I asked if she saw the lady's look. Dori said she hadn't. The stranger's expression was in contrast to the looks from many hospital staff. They looked at Dori and smiled confidently, knowing Dori had been through something significant. They congratulated her with their eyes.

Dori went to Will's ballgame last night, her first trip to see him play since last spring. Will is having a great time out there and playing well - making good defensive plays and getting on base. Last night, he pounded a few balls as hard as I've seen. I asked Dori on the way home if she enjoyed the game and seeing friends like Monica, Lisa and Laura. She smiled and said softly, "Oh, yes."

Where to start this paragraph ... The news about friends battling disease this week has had some lows. Of course, we've posted about Robin's death; her funeral was yesterday morning in California. Then we read about how her husband's car was robbed of her mementos, including her wedding ring that was going to be given to her four-year-old daughter. The whole thing is unreal. My good friend, Beth, is facing the reality her courageous Mom, Becky, has about six months to live. I'm pretty sure my open conversation with my wonderful Mom this week happened because I've been thinking about Beth and Becky a lot. I know my Mom knows how I feel about her - the same way I know Beth feels about her Mom, really. But I know I don't tell her enough. Becky and Rachel have earned our powerful love and tremendous respect. I'm sad for Beth and her family, but bolstered by her open approach and acceptance of the situation. Like my Mom said the other night, the only thing we can control is our own approach to life. The rest is in God's hands.

On a more positive note, I connected with another AML survivor this week - PJ, a Mom living in New England. I posted on her blog this week, and she posted over here. Like most folks who've been through the blood cancer ordeal, she doesn't like the germs. Her impressive dry wit and analysis are only rivaled by her great writing, and most of all, her honesty. Case in point:

"Since being diagnosed with leukemia two years ago, I've thought about death a lot, not as some vague distant event, but a sooner-rather-than-later possibility. Contemplating your own end isn't all bleak, especially if you consider some of the grisly stuff you'll avoid: cleaning out the basement; losing your soul at Wal-mart; blaming illegal aliens for the nation's economic woes; fretting about your carbon footprint; whatever."

I bellowed when I read the Wal-Mart-illegal alien-carbon footprint comment. The whole blog, The Plog, is like that. It's now linked to the left for easy access. PJ, I asked Dori, who reads The Plog regularly, if she's ever posted on your blog and she said no. This morning, I said, "Fellow AML survivor ... makes you laugh ... going through the same things you are ... c'mon, girl!" Keep up your great approach and recovery.

Kathryn is so quick these days. I asked her Tuesday if she knows a little boy any happier than her brother. She said, "John Antony," and then, "but yes, Will is very happy." I was giving her a hard time this morning while she was being a slug on the couch, watching cartoons. She said, "Your problem?" Nuff said. Girl's gotta watch her "Fairly Odd Parents," not have to deal with them.

Dori is on a two-mile walk this morning. Tonight, we go to the kids' school auction, which is one of her favorite events of the year because she is close to many of the parents (and she likes to bid on things ... always a price-value proposition with Dori). My sister's donated painting made the cut for the live auction and we donated some VU baseball tickets. We're staying away from the painting ... we're hearing the bidding could be aggressive and we have several masterpieces in the house at the "family discount." Thanks again, Annie.

Honoring My Mom

Check out Dori's new haircut. Natalie Portman, stand aside. When I arrived home last night, some of Dori's head coverings were in the trash. The other photo of the kids is from a baseball game I'll soon describe. I love those young smiles.

A friend in my profession, who has been kind to check up regularly about Dori, asked me if I was OK the other day. I answered honestly, "No, not really." I told him about Robin Groff and how painful it was for Dori and me to hear the news of her death. When it comes down to it, I read the tribute postings to Robin, which were amazing, and couldn't stop imagining they were talking about Dori. It's made this week mystical, almost foggy. I've lacked my usual snap and haven't had as much confidence in what I'm doing. The last few days have been better, but the early part of this week was tough.

My mother and I had a great talk last night. I was over at her house to unload some new furniture for Dan, who had successful hip replacement surgery and is beginning a long recovery. Over a beer, I wound up unloading much more. Mom and I chatted for an hour about heavy stuff - mostly about relationships and loved ones. I told her how Dori and I feel so grateful to be where we are after Dori's bone marrow transplant, but intimated how we are continually dealing with the threat of potential relapse. People who really know me know I don't like the word "hate," but I hate leukemia.

The hour went by in a minute. At the end of the visit, I told her some things I don't share enough with her - how proud I am of her, how grateful I am for all her sacrifices and how much I credit her for my own success. My Mom isn't perfect; no mother is. But she's keenly aware of all that surrounds her, and I like how she looks at life. I owe her so much, just like I owe Dori.

Tuesday night was special with the kids at the Vanderbilt-Lipscomb baseball game. The whole time, I was filled with admiration of Kathryn and Will, who spent several innings joyfully tossing a foul ball that Will had snagged. Later, Kathryn and I snuggled in the cool air, while Will did what boys do - watched baseball and tracked other foul balls. He wound up with two, both of which were autographed after the game by many of the players and Coach Tim Corbin. He recognized Will, looked for me and then asked again about Dori. What a good person he is.

Last night, I decided to test my fitness on a long run through Radnor. My goal was to assess if I should enter the Country Music Half Marathon, with an entry dealine looming Friday night. So I headed out for 10 plus miles, settling on about a 9:15/mile pace over mostly flat terrain. Conditions were terrific ... probably 68 degrees and low humidity. I felt as good at mile 10 as I did at miles six and three. My last mile was probably an 8:30, and I had some energy left, too. Soreness today was minimal, thanks to some new Brooks, good stretching and the speed work on Sunday. Speed work can be tough, but the benefits are amazing.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Do I enter the race? Clearly, I can run it and not embarass myself. The positives are I could find some race partners pretty easily because I know a lot of folks who are running. That would be fun. If the conditions are good, I probably could set a course record, but a personal record would be tough since it's hillier than the Tom King. I thought about running for Robin. That would be special. The downside? My body is saying "no" most days and my mind isn't arguing. I have no real objective. I'm not fired up to run if it's warm. Yada yada yada.

I'm being a wuss, really. The plan is to look at the latest long-range forecast tomorrow and make a decision.

Is Cancer Cooked?

I don't blog during work hours, except today. My Mom and Aunt Renee told me about the story on 60 Minutes last night describing the use of combined technologies (radio waves and nanoparticles) to kill cancer cells without the side effects. Click here for the story. God bless you, John Kanzius, and Godspeed to the research teams in Houston and Pittsburgh.