tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275028692024-03-05T04:09:19.504-05:00And Miles 2 GoI wonder. I wander. I run ultras. I love push-ups, yoga and TRX. I ref high school hoops. Meditation is growing on me. I laugh a lot. I get paid to create. I cherish hard work. I'm ever in search of that next dose of Happy.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-8335950550132699482020-04-13T17:03:00.001-05:002020-04-13T17:04:50.083-05:00Dear Wild OakDear Wild Oak,<br />
<br />
It’s me again. <br />
<br />
I know it’s only April and your invitation to come try your 112-mile, 30-some-thousand-feet-of-incline party isn’t for another 6-plus months yet, but I thought I’d check in anyway.<br />
<br />
We’ve been dance partners on and off for almost 30 years now, you and me. You know how badly my record-keeping sucks so I’m totally spitballing here, yet I think it reasonable to postulate that I have covered at least, what, 3,000 miles out there. As you know, 97% of that has been 1 loop at a time. And most of it happened when I was a whole lot younger and faster than I am these days. <br />
<br />
We’ve had our times, you and me. You’ve most definitely thrown me a bone or two across the decades. You’ve seen me at my best. And over and over again, you’ve made my whimper and come oh so close to breaking my spirit. <br />
<br />
I’ve driven off from you after 1-loop training runs sure that I am invincible. And then, fall season after fall season, I’ve slunk away after 1 or 2 loops thinking that the mountains just aren’t my jam any more and that I’m just not tough enough any more to eat what you are cooking. <br />
<br />
I have attacked you. I have communed with you. I have ignored you until the last minute, as if sneaking up on you might work. I have spent every other Saturday for about a decade with the soles of my shoes making contact with your hallowed turf. <br />
<br />
Let us review: In my time with you on the 4-loop format, I am ... 0-for-14? 0-for-15?<br />
<br />
I guess what I really mean is, when it's race time, you always lay my soul wide open and leave it on the ground in a heap.<br />
<br />
Dude, I have learned some of the most lasting lessons of my four-plus-decades of running at your hands. <br />
<br />
Perhaps the best lesson of all: It's only failure if you don't get your ass back out there and try again.<br />
<br />
Almost 30 years. Somewhere around enough miles to cross this country. And to think—I haven’t even finished all of your 112 miles in the same race …<br />
<br />
Yet. <br />
<br />
Love, <br />
<br />
Gentryrun4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-74218885357766141262020-03-15T17:49:00.001-05:002020-03-15T17:49:17.684-05:00Be the good<div dir="ltr">
<div>
Settle in, friends, for a story of small town, instinct, goodwill and a happy ending ...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Scruffy Man, fresh off an extra-long Friday at work, swings by the
local grocery for a few necessities. Good fortune shining on him, he
quickly happens on his Awesome Neighbors. Banter and shopping ensue,
followed eventually by a solo check-out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dropping groceries in his vehicle, Scruffy Man turns to take his
cart back into the store when he hears The Voice. Seriously? OK. OK.
Over to the cart return Scruffy Man goes, as grumpiness sets in because
Scruffy Man <b>always</b> takes his cart back in the store. And that’s
when he sees it ... a brown wallet left in one of the unattended carts.
Smiling now, Scruffy Man checks contents of said wallet and looks around
for Wallet Guy (who Scruffy Man doesn’t know). No luck. Damn. OK. No
worries. Back into the store Scruffy Man heads when The Voice stops him
again. Yeah. True. This is a pile of cash. And yeah, why force others to
confront those choices. OK. OK. Plan B, it is. Back to looking at the
driver’s license when Scruffy Guy sees his Awesome Neighbors again.
Situation explained, Awesome Neighbor Mom does her social media thing
while Awesome Neighbor Daughter shoots back into the store for a quick
canvass. No immediate luck on either front, so Scruffy Man decides to
drop groceries at home and then drive out to the country address on the
driver’s license. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back at his house and groceries put away, Scruffy Man is just about
to plug in what he hopes is Wallet Man’s actual address when Awesome
Neighbor Mom calls to say her social media thing netted a score and
Wallet Guy is at the grocery store waiting. Minutes later, a seriously
happy ending.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Be the good, y’all, especially with all the not-so-good that seems to be surrounding us right now. Be the good.)</div>
</div>
run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-33231526865001234702019-09-25T20:46:00.000-05:002019-09-25T20:54:31.463-05:00Oh Sh#t!!Demon 2: We have a problem.<br />
<br />
Demon 1: Problem?<br />
<br />
D2: Gentry.<br />
<br />
D1: Gentry? That loser?<br />
<br />
D2: He’s a problem. <br />
<br />
D1: Seriously? He’s a non-entity.<br />
<br />
D2: We’re losing our grip on him.<br />
<br />
D1: LOL! Do tell.<br />
<br />
D2: I think he may actually finish that Wild Oak thing this year.<br />
<br />
D1 (cackling): Wild Oak?! The 100-plus-miler with the 29,000 feet of vert that he’s quit THIRTEEN times? <br />
<br />
D2: Yes.<br />
<br />
D1: Dude. Seriously. Stop.<br />
<br />
D2: Look at that 10-day race he did in May.<br />
<br />
D1: LOL! You mean the one where he missed his goal by 65 miles?!! Hahahah. There’s some badass for ya.<br />
<br />
D2: We thought we had him knocked down and going home on Day 3. He. got. back. up. <br />
<br />
D1: So?<br />
<br />
D2: And then reworked his goal. And ended up beating that new goal by 15 miles. And had his best day of all on the last day. <br />
<br />
D1: Big whoop. One race. Whatever.<br />
<br />
D2: Yeah, but it changed him. <br />
<br />
D1: Riiiiight.<br />
<br />
D2: I’m telling you. He’s been running his ass off. Climbing. Lifting. Meditating. <br />
<br />
D1: OK. Whatever. He’s still a wuss. You been in his dreams?<br />
<br />
D2: Yeah. I have. He’s laughing at us. <br />
<br />
D1: Doesn’t matter. He’ll quit. He always quits Wild Oak. <br />
<br />
D2: Yeah but this time, he knows he can finish.<br />
<br />
D1: Dude has a sweet resume, but Wild Oak is like 10 times harder than all the other stuff he's ever finished combined.<br />
<br />
D2: I'm telling you. Different brain space now. <br />
<br />
D1: No amount of training can get you ready if ... <br />
<br />
D2: Listen to me. He is in a different place now. He knows that he can finish. <br />
<br />
D1: Wait. What?<br />
<br />
D2: This time, he. knows. he. can. finish. And he’s all, “I don’t know if I *will* or not, but I know now that I *can.*<br />
<br />
D1: Oh. shit. run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-69788291995515718692019-07-08T07:11:00.002-05:002019-07-08T07:11:26.314-05:00What It’s About <div dir="ltr" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
<div>
The heart of my running isn’t really about finish lines or more awards. Those are wonderful, but not really at the heart of my running. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For me, running is about ...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
sunrises. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
friends.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
starting anew.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
words that only come to me on the move.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
perpetual youth.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
toil.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the Now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
earned fearlessness.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
lasting peace of mind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
freedom.</div>
</div>
<br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><br />
<div dir="ltr" id="AppleMailSignature" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Sent from my iPhone</div>
run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-71915834864612980602019-05-03T16:44:00.002-05:002019-05-03T16:44:58.757-05:00A 10-day, you say? WHAAAA?!!So, here we are.<br /><br />Vision quest, here I come. <br /><br />Six sleeps until my first 10-day race. <br /><br />This is my 10th multi-day race, so it stands to reason that I should have some idea of what to expect. Truth: I do not. And that’s likely a good thing. It could be life-changing. Also, it could completely suck balls. <br /><br />Even as slow to learn from mistakes as I am, multi-days have taught me a valuable lesson: Think small. Control what you can control. Ignore the rest. Don’t hang too much on a distance goal, but also don’t act like a 10-year-old and go so fast and so long on Day 1 that you take all the fun out of the other days. <br /><br />Other lessons? Bring so much sunscreen. And all the hats. And socks. And more than one towel. And an overabundance of resolve. And a battery-powered lantern for your tent. And some new stories. And your sense of humor. And bring beer. And your favorite shoes. And your lucky gloves (you know, those two different ones that you found on the side of the road during training runs this year). <br /><br />And at least a gallon of sweet tea. And a jar of peanut butter. And one of those kidergarten-classroom-sized boxes of Goldfish crackers. <br /><br />And all your Buffs. And most definitely that ugly-ass pirate shirt (!!). And a clothes drying rack. And a bottle opener. And a pallet of chocolate-flavored Ensure.<br /><br />And a pen or two for a bit of writing as the mood strikes. And your puffy. And that sleeping bag that doubles as a parka. And definitely your Bedrock Sandals. <br /><br />And your reading glasses. And the confidence that you have positively trained your ass off for this—doing 25 percent more running than normal across the past six months, putting on 10 pounds of muscle and doing so much core work that moves you once dreamed of being able to do are now warm-up moves.<br /><br />And, most importantly, bring your imagination.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-73856516418818164782018-05-07T20:01:00.000-05:002018-05-07T20:08:12.748-05:00A little race next weekSome of my recent and not-so-recent numbers banging around in my noggin as the packing begins for next week's 144-hour extravaganza at 3 Days at the Fair in New Jersey ... <br />
<br />
<b>280</b> straight days in the current run streak, starting Aug. 1, 2017<br />
<br />
<b>1:44:00</b> per day runwalk average during this stretch<br />
<br />
<b>47</b> percentage of days I have done only a 20-minute runwalk during this stretch<br />
<br />
<b>6 </b> races or training days that lasted somewhere between 8 hours and 27 hours during this timeframe<br />
<br />
<b>13</b> double-long-run Sundays during 2018<br />
<br />
<b>2</b> different training blocks of 10 2-hour runwalks in 10 consecutive days during this current build-up<br />
<br />
<b>150</b> calories an hour, my singular goal for every waking hour during next week's 6-day race<br />
<br />
<b>314</b> miles, my total at this race last year, my inaugural foray into the 6-day world<br />
<br />
<b>63</b> miles, my longest single-day mileage total last year, Day 6<br />
<br />
<b>40</b> miles, my shortest single-day total, Day 5<br />
<br />
<b>1,545</b> career miles on the upcoming 3 Days at the Fair course during this event (1 x 48 hours, 6 x 72 hours, 1 x 144 hours)<br />
<br />
<b>1</b> guarantee that there will be so much laughter to go along with the tired feet, aching legs and sleep-deprived ravingsrun4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-20582996842316303782017-04-20T13:20:00.001-05:002017-04-20T13:20:16.549-05:00This Time This time is the same.<br />
<br />
As I approach the starting line of my 200th race marathon or longer, I still have no clue what I am doing. And I'm still having so much fun doing whatever feels right when I'm out there on each run.<br />
<br />
This time is the same. <br />
<br />
I have 14 different pairs of shoes in the running rotation, and I never wear the same pair two days in a row. Yoga is one of my best friends. Meditation continues to grow on me. <br />
<br />
This time is the same.<br />
<br />
I think about this next race at least 30 times each day, dreaming of how it's going to feel when all systems are go and the miles are floating past. And how it's going to feel when all systems are no and I can't figure out how to unzip my tent from the inside. Or where the zipper is on my sleeping bag. <br />
<br />
This time is different.<br />
<br />
This time, I see the boundless beauty of the sunrise as I paint the canvas below it with miles on top of miles.<br />
<br />
This time is different.<br />
<br />
This time, I hear the birds as they chat back and forth. And the wind as it makes the trees creak. And a growing optimism that comes when you once again make friends with the hurt.<br />
<br />
This time is different.<br />
<br />
This time, I smell the honeysuckle as I'm in pre-dawn flight over rolling country roads. And the hint of rain on the air just before a downpour.<br />
<br />
This time is different.<br />
<br />
This time, I feel my mind forging steel it hasn't experienced in a very long time. And the burn in my quads when speed work gets real. And the sun on my cheeks during so many mid-morning long runs.<br />
<br />
This time is different.<br />
<br />
This time, all the work has been laser-focused on helping me find that sweet spot where I'm covering the ground with the least amount of wasted energy. Relaxed, rhythmic roll rules.<br />
<br />
This time -- as I look down the barrel of my first 6-day race -- I am reminded of these two irrefutable truths:<br />
<br />
Fear often bats first.<br />
<br />
Hope always bats last.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-73726221755187553362017-03-21T17:06:00.001-05:002017-03-21T17:06:47.784-05:00PerceptiveSuper-long Tuesday morning city run, hiking along and enjoying some grub when I hear, "Hey, what are you doing?"<br />
<br />
"Running and having some breakfast."<br />
<br />
"You eat McDonald's when you're running?"<br />
<br />
"If it's a really, really long run like this one, yeah. Sometimes."<br />
<br />
"You're weird."<br />
<br />
"Do you guys know what the word 'perceptive' means?"<br />
<br />
"That we're smart?"<br />
<br />
"I think of it as being able to tell what something really means or what something really is."<br />
<br />
"So if Miguel says that you're really weird, then he is perceptive?"<br />
<br />
"Hey, you're the one who said he's weird!"<br />
<br />
"OK, then I'm ... what is that word again?"<br />
<br />
"Perceptive."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, that's it. I'm perceptive, too. And we're only in the third grade."<br />
<br />
"Y'all have a great day, fellas."<br />
<br />
"How long you gonna run for?"<br />
<br />
"Another couple hours."<br />
<br />
"We'll almost be eating lunch by then. Well, OK. You keep running."<br />
<br />
"I hope to. For a very, very long time."run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-49264381355141360802016-12-26T21:07:00.002-05:002016-12-26T21:09:04.718-05:00Wear Your CapeI'm heading home near the end of this morning's 2-hour runwalk that included an all-out 1-mile spurt when a squeaky little voice catches my ear.<br />
<br />
"Hey Runner Man, I have a cape just like yours."<br />
<br />
"Oh hey there. Whaddaya mean ... (and that's when I remember that I have my fleece pullover tied around my neck like, well, a cape.)<br />
<br />
"Merry Christmas," I say. <br />
<br />
"Thanks, but that was yesterday," she reminds.<br />
<br />
"Hey, what's your name, anyway?"<br />
<br />
"Sara, and I'm 6 years old."<br />
<br />
"So is that Sara with an H, or no H?"<br />
<br />
"It's just Sara. My mom and dad say that you're crazy. They see you running all the time and say that you dress funny and never wear the right pants."<br />
<br />
"Well, your mom and dad are probably right."<br />
<br />
"When I grow up, I wanna be a firefighter. Or a ballerina. Or maybe something else, and for sure I wanna be something where you get to wear a cape."<br />
<br />
"All of those are awesome, Sara. Be all those things."<br />
<br />
"Bye, Runner Man. Keep wearing your cape."<br />
<br />
I'll do that, Just Sara. I'll do that for sure.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-17804519785542055532016-10-05T06:26:00.001-05:002016-10-05T06:26:17.802-05:00Life I love that sweet spot<br />
<br />among the crickets and the coming of the day<br />
<br />when I feel as if I can cup the Magnitude of Life<br />
<br />and turn it round and round<br />
<br />seeing it from different angles<br />
<br />breathing in its radiance<br />
<br />marveling at its glow<br />
<br />accepting its existence<br />
<br />and<br />
<br />understanding<br />
<br />if only for a briefest of moments<br />
<br />my place in it.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-40991661841132131162016-07-18T21:00:00.002-05:002016-07-18T21:03:04.846-05:00One for the BooksDear Katie Keier,<br />
<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />
I've seen way more than my share of ultrarunning magic – and your 200-plus miles on The Wild Oak Trail this long weekend was all that and more.<br />
<br />
I was in the same arena in New Jersey when Phil McCarthy collected 257 miles in 48 hours, shattering the previous American record by more than 20 miles in abysmal weather conditions.<br />
<br />
And I was doing Umstead 100-Miler the year that Mike Morton clocked a 13:11. Yeah, a 13:11. For the whole thing.<br />
<br />
Another time in New Jersey, I was in the race when Sandy Powell and Liz Bauer went toe-to-toe for 48 hours, with Liz nailing an AR 203 miles and Sandy battling valiantly to 195 miles.<br />
<br />
And I've been in the mix when Morton has done 164 miles at Hinson Lake 24-Hour, a virtual solo time trial performance.<br />
<br />
And I was running that year that Glen Redpath blitzed 139 miles at Crooked Road 24-Hour, another mind-bendingly hard effort that outdistanced his closest competitors by more than a marathon.<br />
<br />
Yep, I've seen some of the best of the best magicians ply their craft in this crazy running thing that we do. I saw another one working her magic this past weekend. You.<br />
<br />
You did it. The inaugural run of 200-plus TWOT miles. And I knew you were going to, especially because I saw the way you were moving during that brief two-hour stretch we shared around Miles 112-116 Saturday morning.<br />
<br />
I doubt you remember much of our exchange during that stretch, but I sure do. Through that ever-present Katie Keier smile of yours, you recounted to me how Loop 2 was a dark patch for you, but then some food and a nap revived you. I told you that I was glad you worked through it, and that's when you turned back to me, looked me right in the eye and said, "That was really, really hard. I'm glad that part is over," and then you proceeded to run the next 100 yards or so down the fairly technical downhill section of trail.<br />
<br />
That look you gave me – that I-trained-my-ass-off-for-this-and-it's-supposed-to-be-hard-but-I-got-this look – told me all I needed to know about whether you'd see 200 miles on this trip.<br />
<br />
When the torrential rains blew in the next day and our local news reported that the Stokesville area got 4-5 INCHES of rain in several hours, my first instinct was, "Oh no. Katie and her bunch have to be out there on the loop somewhere” – but then I remembered that glint in your eye, and I just smiled to myself. I knew you'd do it.<br />
<br />
And do it you did.<br />
<br />
Proud member of two different 1,000-mile finisher clubs and proud owner of double-digit finishes at two other ultra races, I have a special, special place in my heart for tenacity. That said, what you did at TWOT went way, way beyond tenacity.<br />
<br />
So, thank you. Thank you for letting me come play for a couple hours. Thank you for being such a happy, vibrant ambassador of trail running. Thank you for letting so many different people share in this remarkable journey.<br />
<br />
And thank you for providing me with an image of perseverance, grit and calmness under fire that I will draw from for many, many years.<br />
<br />
So proud of you, Katie. You dared to dream. You dared to do the work. You dared to take the chance. And then you went out and kicked the livin' shit out of it.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-52504888460649479432016-04-22T19:41:00.000-05:002016-04-22T19:41:04.721-05:00Running is ...Running puts me with my people. Running gets me out of my head and completely in my head at the same time. Running is the thing I do better than all the other things. <br /><br />Running allows me to eat whatever I want. Running keeps me awake at night. Running gets me out of bed in the morning. Running makes the nap a necessity, and a distinct pleasure.<br /><br />Running is my reason for so many other activities like yoga and strength work that complement it. Running betters my days. Running gives me concentrated time to help shape my perspective. <br /><br />Running is who I am. Running is who I want to be. Running makes me whole. <br /><br />Running shapes my words. Running fuels my self-discovery. Running hones my grit.<br /><br />Running helps me choose which dreams to chase. Running makes me vulnerable. Running heals me. <br /><br />Running is simple. Running is profound.<br /><br />Running is my canvas.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-14412420680614109222016-03-23T16:27:00.000-05:002016-03-23T16:27:31.216-05:00Feel the AirDear Joe,<br /><br />What a gift, dude. <br /><br />So I was missing you fiercely this morning. After my short run, I found myself reminiscing about random times we shared when I remembered you teaching me basic Tai Chi.<br /><br />On a whim — or so I thought —I jumped online, and the very first video I found was the exact opening 10 poses that you taught me in the summer of 1980 in Knoxville. <br /><br />After watching it over coffee, I hit rewind and managed to stumble and bumble through the whole series of movements. The final two poses in the sequence are relatively complicated. Feeling like a bit fawn-like, the thought occurred to me that maybe I should just shelve this Tai Chi thing for another time. Plenty of causes on my plate for now. <br /><br />That's when I remembered fussing about those final poses out there in the grass near the UT Aquatics Center, and you telling me, "Before long, you'll feel the air around you and you'll know how to move."<br /><br />I never really got there. Stayed with it the rest of that summer, but glided away from it by the time I returned to college that fall. Don't recall giving Tai Chi another even semi-serious thought until this morning. Almost 35 years ago. You know how long it takes your little brother to learn some stuff.<br /><br />Fast-forward to lunchtime today. After having watched the vid a couple more times throughout the morning, I tried the sequence again in the bathroom here at work. Nice wide mirror in there. Anyway, guess what? I totally felt the air. Pushed it away. Drew it back to me. Squeezed around it. Released it. <br /><br />Gonna keep at the Tai Chi this time. Much better focus today, interestingly. It's been a lot better lately cuz of meditation, but it was razor-sharp today.<br /><br />Thanks, Joe. Gift unwrapped. And yeah, I'm one step closer to that #builtgentrytough ink, too, btw. I know you're always with me, but I still miss the hell outta your laugh and your loud and your smile.<br /><br />Love you, big bro. <br /><br />Bill<br /><br />P.S. Feel the air, indeed.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-81291162844794742252015-12-30T21:08:00.001-05:002015-12-30T21:08:39.883-05:00Dear 2016 ... Subtitle: Putting It Out There.<br />
<br />
Some of what I have in store for you, 2016. Let's get after it.<br />
<br />
• Way more eating.<br /><br />• 230 72-hour miles.<br /><br />• Call more walks. <br /><br />• More Goblet Squats.<br /><br />• Hit more driver.<br /><br />• Own Crow Pose.<br /><br />• Up meditation practice.<br /><br />• Use more nightcrawler. <br /><br />• More Dancer Pose.<br /><br />• 23:45 Umstead 100.<br /><br />• Play more harmonica.<br /><br />• Increase burpee pull-ups.<br /><br />• Write more words.<br /><br />• More dark chocolate.<br /><br />• Read more words.<br /><br />• 202-pound bench press.<br /><br />• Remember reading glasses.<br /><br />• Speak fewer words.<br /><br />• More TRX sessions. <br /><br />• Help someone finish.<br /><br />• One 5-minute plank.<br /><br />• Send handwritten letters.<br /><br />• More tempo runs.<br /><br />• Keep chasing dreams.<br /><br />• Spread more love.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-72636608410337707272015-11-02T09:47:00.000-05:002015-11-02T10:10:53.202-05:00This DayThe boy remembers.<br />
<br />
The date was Nov. 2, 1975. The boy was 14 and a high school freshman. <br />
<br />
Waiting on him at home after school was a package from his much older brother. Inside the box was a pair of adidas SL-72s. Blue with white stripes. His first pair of real running shoes. <br />
<br />
Inside the box was a note. It said, "Start running. Love, Joe." He signed it with a backwards J, a family joke because that's the way the boy had written his brother's name on one of his brother's senior football schedule when the boy was 4 years old. <br />
<br />
The boy held the SL-72s as if they were treasures. He turned them over. He unlaced them and re-laced them so that the laces were perfectly even at the tops. He slipped them on. The size 10.5s fit perfectly. <br />
<br />
The boy wore them outside. He walked around in the yard. He almost walked into one of the End Zone Trees (a different story for a different day) because he couldn't take his eyes off the shoes. Running shoes. Real running shoes. <br />
<br />
JV football season was over. JV basketball season hadn't started yet. The boy had dreams of being a star athlete like his older brother, who owned football, basketball and track during his days in their small town. The boy was always dreaming. <br />
<br />
The boy went back inside and dug around until he unearthed a pair of shorts. He slipped them on over the SL-72s, walked down the driveway and started running. <br />
<br />
Down Chestnut, right on F down to the bottom of the hill, across North, across Jackson and up to U.S. 340. Left on 340, the boy ran, reveling in the thwack-thwack-thwack sound of the shoes scuffing along the pavement. Left on Spotswood Trail, left on Lee, right on another cross street, then left on Jackson and eventually back to F and what seemed like a Mount Everest-sized hill that led him back to his house. <br />
<br />
The boy was out of breath. The boy had finished his first real run. In his very own adidas SL-72s. The boy was enthralled. Even at age 14, the boy somehow knew that he had found something. Or that something had found him.<br />
<br />
The boy appeared devoid of running talent at first, but hung in there because the act of running gave him a feeling that none of the other sports provided him. Running, the boy came to realize, was special because it was all his. His losses. His wins. His journey.<br />
<br />
Much has happened to the boy since that day. Many successes. Many failures. Many, many happy times. And through it all, Running has continued — over and over and over again — to find the boy and fill his cup to overflowing. <br />
<br />
It's been 40 years now. And the boy still remembers.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-65185729521230857252015-10-07T20:13:00.003-05:002015-10-07T20:14:35.199-05:00BlessingsBlessings, blessings, everywhere<br />
Which ones will you choose?<br />
Calm your mind, expand your heart,<br />
What have you to lose?<br />
<br />
Blessings, blessings, everywhere,<br />
Strength and joy and peace,<br />
All of this and so much more<br />
Deserve your heart's release.<br />
<br />
Blessings, blessings, everywhere,<br />
Come along with me,<br />
A climb atop a mountain range,<br />
A walk along the sea.<br />
<br />
Blessings, blessings, everywhere,<br />
Focus on the Now,<br />
Take the time to really see<br />
Each and every Wow.<br />
<br />
Blessings, blessings, everywhere<br />
Which ones warm your heart?<br />
Take a moment, inhale joy,<br />
Find a place and start.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-69975451438884054812015-09-13T18:21:00.003-05:002015-09-13T19:08:15.094-05:00Reboot?Sometimes, I can be such a pompous ass.<br />
<br />
I just had to do this lifting exercise called a split jerk. And I just had to use 20-pound dumbbells because, well, my 5-pounders the only other dumbbells would be way too easy. Also never mind that it's the first time I had done the exercise. Main result: Tweaked my right IT Band.<br />
<br />
And — because I'm scared witless about my upcoming attempt of the oft-attempted-yet-rarely-completed Wild Oak Trail 100-Miler — I just had to do a 6-hour runwalk the next day. The low-back stiffness dissipated after 4 hours, so I thought it was fine. I didn't really even notice the IT band. I mean, it only hurt every time my right foot hit the ground. (Pompous. Ass.)<br />
<br />
So, of course it's only natural that I would go out the next day for 2:30:00 with my buddy Bob. I mean, the IT band wasn't too bad at all. And we did the whole thing on soft ground. And I always go Sundays with Bob. (See the pattern here?)<br />
<br />
Then I just had to go short on Monday because it was Day 140 of my current run streak. And I'm sure that the dull thud in the hip was more because I hadn't done yoga yet that morning than because I'm a pompous ass. (Impressive, huh?)<br />
<br />
Same same with Tuesday's 2 hours, Wednesday's 20 minutes. And Thursday's 3:15:00.<br />
<br />
Pretty sure that Thursday's effort gets me the nod as undisputed president of the Pompous Ass Club. <br />
<br />
<b>Silver lining:</b> I haven't run a step since Thursday. It's Sunday evening and the stiffness is gone. I'm waiting at least until Tuesday to try it out. Might extend the break until Thursday. Dear Body, thank you for this wake-up call. Received and acknowledged. Good will come from this little blip. <br />
<br />
<b>More silver lining:</b> Thanks to sage advice from someone who knows much — "You have the physical strength. Start to focus on mental strength." — I'm changing a lot about this time's Wild Oak approach.<br />
<br />
I've used much of this thumb-twiddling time the past several days to focus on how this Wild Oak should go. And that's when it hit me — dramatic flame-outs in my two previous attempts are all on me. I've tried to bull my way through them. Little attention to planning. Less attention to execution. Just train myself up, roll out there, be all bad-ass and take it by storm. So far, that's gotten me to 37 miles once and 54 miles the other time. <br />
<br />
<b>The game-day Wild Oak approach this time?</b> Take what it gives. Soak it all in. Look forward to the hard parts and laugh with them. Easy breezy. Think. small. <br />
<br />
I'm running with buddies. And getting help from other buddies. And pledging to use good sense on all things physical this next month-plus. And working on getting my mind really, really right. <br />
<br />
If things break well, Sunday, Oct. 25, may find the Pompous Ass Club president's post up for grabs again.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-19791689363496286942015-08-12T21:14:00.000-05:002015-08-12T21:14:34.479-05:0075I looked into your eyes this morning and was moved to tears.<br />
<br />
So young, even in that full Marine dress with your newly minted face of stone.<br />
<br />
The inscription below your photo reads that you were one day shy of 20 years old when you breathed your final breath back in 2005. One day from 20. Damn.<br />
<br />
And there I was, dripping wet after pushing pretty hard on this morning's sweet run around our little country town under perhaps the most vibrantly starry sky I've seen in years, when I happened past the house where I think your mom still lives. It's the one with your photo tacked to a tree out front, and the words "Freedom Isn't Free."<br />
<br />
So I looked in your eyes, and I wished that I had known you. And that you were still here. That you hadn't made the ultimate sacrifice in that faraway land one day shy of turning 20.<br />
<br />
So I hope you'll forgive an old guy, LCPT Daniel Bubb, for shedding some tears in your honor.<br />
<br />
And then I did the only thing I could think of to do in your honor — I dropped to the pavement and started cranking out push-ups. Maybe it was the moment, but those push-ups were a whole lot easier that normal. Maybe I'm crazy, but I swear I could feel your presence urging me on. 10, 20, 30 ... So I kept going ... 40, 50, 60 ... 75. Complete failure. Plastered flat. Gasping for breath.<br />
<br />
Then I rose, and I looked into your eyes again. And I said a short prayer for you and so many others who have given their all for others.<br />
<br />
Although I didn't know you, Daniel, I am honored by your life, your service and your sacrifice.<br />
<br />
You are not forgotten. I will carry this time with me for many, many days. <br />
<br />
I hope, somehow, that the connection I felt this morning was felt on your end, too.<br />
<br />
Rest in peace, brave warrior. What is remembered lives.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-75425723127892896882015-07-16T21:00:00.000-05:002015-07-16T21:01:38.111-05:00That Soft WayMike Pearson, I will miss you.<br />
<br />
You were the first Calvary UMC person to shake my hand, and your gigantic, soft smile was one I came to cherish during our decade plus of time together there. <br />
<br />
And not too long after that first meeting, there you were again welcoming me into the back row at choir practice. After that first night, you asked me what I thought and I told you that it was pretty cool and that although I was rusty as an old nail, I'd be back for sure. I got that patented Mike Pearson full face smile and a "Wow, this is gonna be fun." Prophetic, for sure.<br />
<br />
Oh the memories. So many songs. Cantatas. More than our share of duets together. That quartet with you, me, Sam Robb and Ron Hartlaub. Cherished memories of mine.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure I shared this with you, but I only jumped in as a lay reader because I didn't want you to be the lone wolf there. Man did I struggle with that — I'm still sure I butchered way more of the scripture readings than you did — but it was well worth it mainly because it gave you a break a couple Sundays each month. <br />
<br />
Your kind, soft way made me a better dude, Mike. And I'm pretty sure that the pride and love you showed for your Meghan and Nikki tipped the scales for me in deciding to chase the dad thing. Grateful every day for that, by the way. I wish we'd come back to Calvary a few times lately. I think you'd like this 15-year-old version of Ben Gentry. I know he would have been taken with you.<br />
<br />
I'll see you again, Mike, if I play my cards right. Have "People Need the Lord" ready, and we'll sing it one more time. And yeah, I'll still be good with the harmony part. <br />
<br />
Love you, buddy.<br />
<br />
Billrun4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-50817770531071531162015-06-08T20:26:00.001-05:002015-06-08T20:26:30.723-05:00This Maybe it happened because it was the second long run of the day. <br />
<br />
Or because it was 86F, and I was doing laps on the middle school's paved track. Or maybe it was the all-at-once absence of that previously sweet breeze.<br />
<br />
I hadn't looked at my watch yet. Just before sneaking a glance I told to myself, "Betcha it says 1:25." It didn't. It read 1:07. "Oh wow. Is that right? Oh. Wow."<br />
<br />
So I thought about changing things up and heading out to the nearby trail system. Or bouncing up the hill and knocking out the remaining 53 minutes somewhere in town.<br />
<br />
I mean, seriously, what difference will it make if I don't do the entire 2 hours of today's second long run on this stupid track? It's still gonna be 2 hours. And that will give me 4:30:00 for the day. And it's still gonna be just as hot and muggy. It's just a training run. I mean, really, here or elsewhere ... what's the true diff?<br />
<br />
So, you know what I did? Staying right there on the track, I turned my music up just a little bit. And I focused on the lyrics and the beat. And I kept on running. And running. And running. Totally lost in the running. The gentle rhythm of my breathing. The relaxed roll-through of my arms and legs. And the next time I checked my watch, it read 1:51. <br />
<br />
And there is was in all its crystalline glory. <br />
<br />
This. This is why I love running so much. <br />
<br />
And I smiled at my deep, full sense of joy and satisfaction. <br />
<br />
And I kept on running.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-22715680995600670882015-05-28T20:23:00.000-05:002015-05-29T07:50:27.682-05:00Day 28The short version: Meditation is a game-changer.<br />
<br />
The longer version ...<br />
<br />
So as a stiff, fidgety old dog who just entered his 38th year of running, I've been fiddling around with meditation since March, and decided to go all in for my birthday month of May to see where it might lead me.<br />
<br />
A solid 28 days later, some observations ...<br />
<br />
• It's absolutely fabulous and mind-expanding to get so completely lost in space during meditation that I feel myself floating on each breath. <br />
<br />
• 10 to 15 minutes whoosh past in no time when I focus first on my breath and then next on whatever thoughts pop into my consciousness. <br />
<br />
• Routine mechanical things -- knotted cords, lawn mower stuff, changing the bag in my vacuum cleaner -- that once brought me such frequent frustration are no big deal now. Meditation is helping me see that you can't solve a problem while giving yourself a rash of shit for being an idiot. No big deal for most. Huge big deal for me. So freeing.<br />
<br />
• State of Chill only comes to me when I am not trying to grasp it. <br />
<br />
• I am sleeping so. much. better. I rarely have trouble with falling asleep or staying asleep, but this meditation thing has taken sleep to a whole new, wonderful place. <br />
<br />
• My patience outside of meditation is, at least for now, at an all-time high. Circumstances that typically aggravate me get noticed, observed with curiosity, then pushed aside. I'm intrigued to see what happens during high school basketball ref season this winter. <br />
<br />
• Meditation saved my recent 72-hour race. Combo of being a little off in the heat Day 1 and then oversleeping by two hours gave me zero chance of making my dream goal of 216 miles. Dejected, I scooched my ass out of my tent at sunrise Friday and -- bam -- found myself in the appropriate half-lotus position that's become my meditation friend. Some 10 minutes later, the message was clear — get moving, go have fun, make new buddies and give somebody a helping hand. Oh, and learn some new tricks for the years to come. Check, check, check and BIG check. Final tally of 185 miles is my third best among tmy five 72s. And I had a blast. Very nice save, indeed.<br />
<br />
• I'm finding great joy in the little things. How I can do 10 more push-ups in a given set if I focus on relaxing my cheeks. How it feels when my fingers dance across my laptop keys. The kiss of a cool morning breeze on my cheeks. The glint of a sunrise off my neighbor's bird feeder. My footfalls when running. Meditation is re-connecting me with my inner kid.<br />
<br />
Will I keep it up? Yes. Every day? Not sure about that, but I think it's safe to say that I am a convert. <br />
<br />
And that I'm intrigued to see where this leads. run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-73471157667439550212015-05-10T19:45:00.001-05:002015-05-11T07:58:53.936-05:00Running is ... Cleanliness of movement. <br />
<br />
Seeing what few get to.<br />
<br />
Time well spent. <br />
<br />
Losing myself.<br />
<br />
Filling my heart.<br />
<br />
Finding pleasure in the simple blessing of effort.<br />
<br />
Meaning.<br />
<br />
Confidence.<br />
<br />
Comfort.<br />
<br />
Pain.<br />
<br />
Accomplishment.<br />
<br />
My place of peace. <br />
<br />
Rich friendships.<br />
<br />
Grandiose learning.<br />
<br />
Finding myself.<br />
<br />
Contagious joy.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-43160992313096043292015-04-27T05:13:00.002-05:002015-04-27T05:13:23.586-05:00TimesThere are times.<br />
<br />
In those first few minutes of a run, feeling out my body with the pursuant stiffness borne of almost 54 years on Earth and almost 90,000 miles on my feet, I'm reminded that the best way through is often to relax and flow.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Alone with my thoughts, skimming
the ground, squirrels barking and late-morning sun gleaming through the
swaying trees, I am at once lost in time and yet as full of life as
seems imaginable.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Under a blanket of early-morning stars,
the soft cadence of my auto-pilot shuffle gives way to a special
euphoria that is all its own.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
When I let it go — really turn up the heat and see what the legs have in them — I am for moments back in my mid-20s and completely engrossed in every breath, every push-off, every landing.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Running with buddies and chatting up a storm, laughs become air and hours become minutes.<br />
<br />
There are times. <br />
<br />
Up in the mountains, when a beautiful leaf formation or a small creature will happily divert my mind from the intensity of the Pain Cave's second floor.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Out for a short run in my little town, I get so involved in the cavalcade of conversation going on inside my head that I realize I don't know which street I'm on.<br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Awash in the beauty of movement, I land on a clarity that satisfies my hope and makes every dream seem touchable. <br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
In the dark of a 24-hour race or late in any of the nights at Three Days at the Fair 72-Hour, I am moving along all by myself and yet feel strikingly close to whomever happens to be on my mind. <br />
<br />
There are times.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in the fifth hour of a long, long training run, fatigue takes a back seat, everything falls neatly into place and I am ever so thankful that running found me. <br />
<br />run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-4296446620307877382014-12-31T15:57:00.000-05:002014-12-31T15:57:15.767-05:00Lost and FoundOh 2014, you have been something.<br /><br />Some mostly running-related tidbits at the front of my weird brain ... <br /><br />I found amazing joy.<br /><br />I found my 13th Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run finish line in April, and I did so almost stride for stride with my dear friend and training buddy Jack Broaddus, who found his first 100-mile finish line after several previous attempts. We had our lows. We had our highs — especially that 7th loop when the incomparable Amy Surrette was kind enough to pace us — and we crossed the line together in 28:23. Jack was heroic out there. I know I'll remember this one forever. <br /><br />I found my way beyond the 200-mile mark at Three Days at the Fair 72-hour in May.<br /><br />After other years of 183 miles, 189 miles and 167 miles, I looked at this Sisyphean task in a new way. Thanks to a suggestion from my buddy Bob Ring, I marked each 400-meter chunk of the 1.00-mile loop and then walked one, ran one, walked one and ran one. The plan was 8 miles every 2 hours, then take a 15-minute, feet-propped-up break, repeat ad nauseam and take a continuous 4-hour sleep break each night. Bob said this would get me 72 miles each day. That Day 1 15-minute break almost broke my brain. Until the end of the first day when I got 72 miles and about 100 extra yards. Oh. wow. Day 2 I totaled 60 miles because I needed 6 hours thanks to abysmal rain-soaked misery and a significant loss of desire. For Day 3, I tweaked the plan to take only 10-minute sit breaks. And I also stopped trying to do the math, opting to Think Small — doing what was right in front of me and ignoring all else — and damned if I didn't manage to knock out 73 miles for the final 24 hours. 205 miles. A dream come true. <br /><br />I lost my brother.<br /><br />Joe Gentry breathed his final breath in late-November. He had cancer for 11 years and, thankfully, that was only a small part of his amazing story. He was a remarkable teacher and coach who — as is always the case — had a unique way of caring and focusing on solutions. He touched so many. His reach lives on in all of us who were fortunate enough to feel his magic. My brother lived this secret: You can move mountains and achieve unprecedented results when you focus on The Now. <br /><br />I found a finish line before everybody else. <br /><br />In mid-May, I won the ColorBlast 5K in 19:42. A bit of a cherry-pick in that there weren't but 30-some runners in the competitive division of the 200-person field, but I still got to the end before everybody else did. The last W I recall came when in a 5-miler when I was 29 years old. Note: a W at age 53 is far sweeter now than I ever remember when they came more often. <br /><br />I lost my will.<br /><br />Epic fail during my August try at four loops and 104 miles of the famed Wild Oak Trail. I had my boys Jack Broaddus, Dave Frazier and Quatro Hubbard lined up as pacers. I had my boy Vince Bowman out there crewing for me. I had some pretty peachy early-August weather. I was in some of the best physical condition I've been in. I had a sweet set-up. And then I made a huge tactical mistake — leaf garbage bags do not critter-proof containers make!! — that resulted in doing a tough 11-mile, mid-day stretch sans fluid. The ultimate result: I dehydrated so badly that my lower back locked up and it took me 4 hours to "hike” the final 6 miles. Thank God for Dave's patience with me and for being my dear friend as I did what seemed like 5 million repeats of walk-100-rocky-ass-yards, sit-down, cry, stand up." Also, thank God for Vince, who stayed out all night driving around and crewing for us, cooking amazing soup, making us hot drinks and being a fresh, happy face that gave me profound hope and joy. Also for Jack, who paced me that first loop and who pushed himself well, well beyond the brink after my drop-bag blunder cost both of us. My friends, man. <br /><br />I found my gold. <br /><br />Yes, gold. As in way more significant than a distance or a time or an amount. Way, way more. Several times — a handful at various races and a whole buncha times in training sessions — I came face to face with that daunting specter I think of as The Big Quit. And at least for these times that I'm thinking of here …<br /><br />• In the dark and pouring rain after 40 hours into 3 Days 72; <br />• multiple times doing the TRX 40-40 Challenge;<br />• the final 200 meters of a recent 1.5-mile time trial that I pushed myself so hard through that I puked afterward;<br />• going back out twice during the frigid night at Crooked Road 24-Hour when it woulda been so easy to just drive away …<br /><br />… I stared The Big Quit right in the eyes, took a deep, deep breath and then kicked its ass.<br /><br />I grew.<br /><br />I shrank. <br /><br />I laughed.<br /><br />I cried.<br /><br />I won. <br /><br />I lost. <br /><br />I found. And found. And found.run4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27502869.post-15213080665355206842014-10-30T21:09:00.001-05:002014-10-31T14:39:28.917-05:00A Thousand Times OverSometimes, you just know. <br />
<br />
When it came to Blake Norwood, I knew from that first March 1996 handshake that I had a friend for life.<br />
<br />
His quick smile, big personality, booming voice and comfortable manner set my fairly overwhelmed-at-the-100-mile-distance self at ease from our first conversation. The friendship that ensued grew over the coming years, bringing me back for a total of 17 Umsteads -- a stretch that includes 13 finishes at 100 miles and another four of at least 50 miles. <br />
<br />
Umstead was Blake's brainchild, a gentle 100-miler created to give everybody with enough want-to in them a legit chance to finish. The original 10-loop course and its later and current 12.5-mile sister both turned out to be the perfect catalysts for me to erase my earlier hundo woes. The confidence I scored at Blake's annual party slowly, surely changed my life.<br />
<br />
When I learned earlier this week of his sudden and unexpected death, my mind when blank. No. Please no. Not long after, however, the memories refilled it. So many laughs. So many times we flipped each other off at first sight (boys WILL be boys!!). So many encouraging words from him shot my way during some low point late in one of his races that kept me going. <br />
<br />
Two stories rushed back to me almost immediately.<br />
<br />
1998. Blake, multiple toilet paper rolls in hand, tried to pace me, D.J. Reyes and Ben Clark as we headed out for our 10th and final loop because he needed to refill some porta-johns. Yes, we dropped him. And yes, I made sure to give him shit about it for years after.<br />
<br />
The hurricane year. Blake at the halfway point screamed at me to put more clothes on. I, being totally my stuboorn-ass self, told him that I'd be fine in my polypro hat, cotton gloves and trash bag ... only to have the temps drop 38 degrees in the next hour, the rain blow sideways and me drop out 4.5 miles later.<br />
<br />
So many, many stories. And Blake is somewhere near the center of almost every one.<br />
<br />
Late last year, current Umstead 100 RD Rhonda Hampton put the call out that she and friends wanted submissions for a tribute book they planned to turn over to Blake at this year's race -- his pre-planned U100 swan song. I jumped at the chance and kicked her what appears below ... I am so glad that he got this and that he appreciated all our submissions.<br />
<br />
----------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Dear Blake,</b><br />
<br />
How do you thank someone for giving you the opportunity to prove yourself to yourself?<br />
<br />
That's what you have done for me with your Umstead 100-Mile Endurance Run.<br />
<br />
I remember the 1996 Umstead like it was yesterday. My first 100-mile finish. 24:44. Moving through the night with the late, great Aaron Goldman, who was also chasing his first successful 100-mile finish after a decade of trying. Getting passed with one mile to go by my friends Andy and Shelley Wunsch as Shelley was about to become the female champ. Them asking me if I wanted to share the finish line. Me asking Aaron if it was be OK. Aaron saying sure. Me running five steps with Shelley after having walked for 10 miles straight and realizing that -- you know what -- sometimes you really can't run even one more step. But you can almost always walk one more. Ah, the first of many, many lifetime lessons U100 would dole out to this remarkably slow learner.<br />
<br />
I have been fortunate enough to cross a total of 12 Umstead 100-Mile finish lines so far. Some a lot faster than that first one. Some a lot slower. Each journey has been worth every single step. I've made so many friends, had so many laughs, taken so many sleep breaks (hah!), eaten so many of your Myra's coveted finisher omelets and created so, so many lifetime memories.<br />
<br />
My life is a much more rich existence because of Umstead 100. I owe you more than I will ever be capable of repaying.<br />
<br />
Thank you a thousand times over, brother.<br />
<br />
Billrun4daysbillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10499581323906946556noreply@blogger.com1