pictures

Mile 8.5, my corner in Brooklyn. Robbin always looks more excited than me.

First Avenue and 89^th Street. Mile 17.5

86^th Street in Central Park. “Everything hurts”.   

 

My well deserved chocolate milk.

It's all over. With Luke and Robbin.

Patti Hagan, good friend, loyal supporter, avid running enthusiast and all around inspiration.

the post post countdown to 2011 !!!!!! 362 days 06 h 56 m 56 s

The shouting has died down and I wish I could say the same about my sore leg muscles. I can say I made it. Yes, I went the distance. Here are the official stats.

Finish Time 04:16:13
Place 20457 out of 44,829 finishers
Gender Place 15442
Age Place (55-59 years) 597
Average Minutes per Mile 09:47
Split Times
5 km 00:28:02
10 km 00:54:42
15 km 01:23:58
20 km 01:52:08
13.1 mi 01:58:13
25 km 02:21:10
30 km 02:51:41
35 km 03:26:26
40 km 04:00:57

So what does all of this mean besides just how great a hot bath could feel? Despite my initial optimism I did not beat my previous time. By mile 19 I already knew that I couldn’t make it under 4 hours and had already begun to analyze what went wrong. I peaked too early in my training and running 23 miles two weeks ago was too late. If I hadn’t pulled, ripped or whatever I did to my calf, etc. Really none of it matters. I don’t feel bad about my time because the run was a total success. Running for a cause made all difference. Knowing that I wasn’t just running for myself helped every step of the way.
For two weeks prior I had not run a single step just wanting to give my calf every opportunity to repair. When I stepped into the starting corral I had no idea if I would be able to run a yard no less a marathon. But having come that far on the adventure I knew I was going to step up to that line and give it a shot.
At mile 19 as every movable part from my toes on up was aching I felt satisfied that I had run one final time. No matter what my final time would be I felt no reason for doing this again. It’s strange the feelings a new day brings and how you can’t really remember the feeling of slogging through those final miles. Perhaps I could do it one more time. Maybe it would be inspiring if my son wanted to run it with me. Never say never. Waiting for the starting cannon, the announcer warming up the crowd asked how many were running for the first time. It seemed every hand by mine shot into the air. It’s a great equalizer and event for the masses. Passing the Statue of Liberty on the 6:30 a.m. Staten Island ferry, full with runners who were mostly not from New York, reinforced the global tone of the event. The weather was beautiful and it was a perfect day to be outside and get some exercise. Maybe next year you’ll run with me.
Many thanks to everyone who came along and showed their support. I look forward to hearing the results of your generosity from Abilis.
Cheers
Jeffrey

(I will post some picture as soon as i can figure out how)

post marathon coutdown 0 days 12 h 08 m 55 s

So here we are and I do mean “we”. I’ve yet to join Facebook, I don’t Tweet and this was my first blog and therefore only experience into the cyber world. I have heard from a few people so I know that my musing have found some ports and are not floating infinitely out through the ether. I’ve also heard from some folks that I’ve not been in touch with for some time, which was really nice. I’ve received some questions regarding how to donate to Abilis so I feel certain that my efforts have born some fruit in that regard. Whatever the results (and I’m sure we’ll hear from Abilis later in the week) I’m glad that we have gone on this adventure. This is where the “we” comes in. I’ve run this marathon twice before. It was always a personal challenge that required dedication and focus. At its completion I had a sense of accomplishment. I would not in any way suggest that the accomplishment felt hollow. But this time around has felt so very different knowing that I wasn’t alone. Knowing that we were in this together and that our efforts were on behalf of those with autism, Down syndrome and other developmental disabilities that Abilis gives it support to. Knowing that we’re all a little more aware of those who have to make a marathon effort every day, should at the end of the marathon make us all feel a bit better.
If you’re in NY and plan to come out and cheer I’ll give you some information that may help to find me. If you don’t want to get off the couch, or as with Dan, his family and son Joe whose wheelchair made returning to Brooklyn too cumbersome, I’m told you can follow my progress online. You may not be able to access this before race time.
Here are some details. I’ll be wearing a very bright blue shirt and black shorts. My number is 25491. I’ll be starting in the second wave at 10:10 a.m. If you go to

http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/entrantinfo/course.htm

you will find a map of the course with mile markers and an Arrival Time Chart. I hope to finish somewhere between 3 hours 50 minutes and 3 hours 59 minutes. That would be somewhere between an 8 minute 46 second and an 8 minute 57 second pace. Add that to the mile you’re standing at and give or take 10 minutes. (I don’t how long it will take me from the 10:10 start to actually cross the starting line.)

If you know you’ll be on a particular corner, shoot me an email and I’ll try to look for you. Otherwise here’s where I’ll be along the route. On Fourth Avenue I believe I will be routed into the lanes on the left side of the medium. For the remainder of Brooklyn and Queens I will be on the right side. Into Manhattan and up First Avenue I’ll be on the left, down Fifth Avenue the right and into the park to the finish I’m sure I’ll just be concentrating on the reaching the finish line.

post# 22 2 days 07 h 20 m 38 s

(I got delayed. This post was meant for yesterday!)

Three days to the marathon. Not exactly a marker of particular significance in terms of the race except that today is my birthday. It’s not an anniversary that I usually make note of. Many a time it’s completely slipped my mind. Most years I have to take a quick count to be sure of my age. So I hope you’ll pardon me if I pound my chest just slightly this year as I’m feeling quite good about running a marathon three days after my 58th birthday. Much of age is truly a state of mind. It’s just a number. Good health is a blessing and in no way do I mean to discount that good fortune. But I’ve never had a concept of how one should feel or act at a given age. Perhaps never remembering my age is a consequence of this state of mind. I’ve always refused to slow down or readily give in to the effects of time. Or perhaps I haven’t been running towards a date for the past year but running from a number, 58.

A Different Kind of Marathon

In some ways, raising a child with a developmental disability can feel like running a marathon – it is certainly not a sprint. New challenges come up at every phase of your child’s life from birth through school years, to transitioning into adulthood and senior years. Abilis is there for families at every step. I thought I would post just a couple success stories of how Abilis has helped families over the years. We cannot run the marathon for you, but we can help make every mile easier.

“In the hospitals, we were always told about “Birth to Three” services. This really meant very little to us, since we had two other typical children and were not aware of the programs Birth to Three encompassed. With the birth of our third child, we embarked on a new path of parenthood, learning every step of the way. We found that everyone at Abilis Birth to Three provided us with information, support, guidance and, above all else, the assurance that as new as this process was for all of us as a family, it would somehow become normal over time - which it has.”

“Without the help of the Abilis Autism Program…, my child would not have been able to reach most of his objectives and goals… This past June [my son] broke his leg and was placed in a full leg cast. Abilis staffed, developed and oversaw a home program for him, and also found us a grant to pay for the extra expenses. The cast came off in time for school, and not only was his leg healed, he had more language skills and fewer inappropriate behaviors, was calmer and happier than before his accident.”

From one of our residents and a participant in our Employment Services program: “When I came to Abilis, I met Paul Jourdan (Abilis Community Network Coordinator). He took me to a Mets and Nationals game. It was at the old Mets stadium. Now it's Citi Field. I know the Mets lost! Right now, I have a roommate and six of us live in the house all together, including a new housemate who moved in August. I know how to clean and vacuum. I use the dishwasher and sometimes I mop the floor. Pretty soon, I am going to be able to wash and dry my clothes without any supervision. I do it with limited supervision now. I also am working at multi-tasking; that is going to happen soon. My cooking skills are getting better. Pretty soon I am going to be able to cook with no supervision; right now it's with limited supervision. My specialty is cooking homemade macaroni and cheese from scratch. I haven't made it in a while, but my housemates like it… I've done a lot of outdoor work. I enjoy it. This last week or so, we've been going to pick up logs and splitting them on the same day. Depending on the size, I can pick up the logs and put them on the truck. I just like having a job to make money. To an extent, I have a preference for outdoor work, but I just enjoy working for a living.”

post# 21 3 days 20 h 20 m 34 s

Part 6
I’ve no doubt that mounting a 26.2 mile race through the five boroughs of New York City is an expensive proposition. Flags are put up (and latter taken down) all along the route, police barricades are erected (latter taken down), police man the route, traffic is re-routed, there’s world wide advertising, port-a johns, three days at the Javits Center to give out numbers, transportation to the start and logistical planning of mounting an event for thirty-eight thousand participants, thousands of workers and volunteers and hundreds of thousands of viewers. With all of this I’m certain I’ve overlooked a few thousand details large and small any one of which if missed by the marathon folks could seriously derail the event.
There are many sponsors and even more promotions, sales and marketing tie-ins. One of these is a picture offered for sale of the runners as they cross under the finish line. The first time I ran I only became aware of this offer when a sample arrived in the mail. There I was bedraggled and wrung out, with little visible glory, looking completely disoriented dragging myself under the clock. The next time around I planned to raise my arms in victory as I passed under. But I have to tell you, at 26.1999 miles, even that takes a Herculean effort. I raised my arms once but was unsure if I was at the right spot for the picture. Taking a few more steps I attempted to raise them once more. But after all the training, calories burnt, time spent in an effort to reach the finish line, I really couldn’t summon the necessary energy to raise a salute for a picture. I just went for the final yards and checked the clock.

post# 20 4 days 13 h 07 m 42 s

Part 5
The route will snake its way through Harlem heading down Fifth Avenue around Marcus Garvey Memorial Park and at 110th Street the border of Central Park. In my second outing it was here that I had to stop and lift my leg onto a lamppost to stretch, afraid that at this advanced point I risked it cramping and bringing me to a halt. To make it all the more excruciating, my watch kept reminding me that I was teetering on the edge of accomplishing my four-hour mark. (You may recall that I did miss it by 21 seconds.)
At 90th Street the route makes a right turn where there is one last very short but steep hill that lifts the runners into the park. It may be short, but at almost mile 24 it might just as well be Mount Everest. Right after the hill I’ll once again see my family. They will have made their way by subway and gotten just enough ahead so as to await my entrance to the park. Last time Robbin enthusiastically ran into the road to greet me. Unable to speak all I could do was gesticulate towards my watch in an attempt to tell her that my time was very close. She seemed extremely disappointed by my seeming lack of enthusiasm at seeing her when in fact I had been pushing myself for the last few miles expecting her prescience and knowing I couldn’t come walking by. At this point of the run it’s hard to verbalize and there is no energy to spare for anything other than to attempt to remain concentrating on the course.
I suppose you could consider this to be the home stretch, one still very long home stretch. We’ll wind downtown and up and down through the park to 59th Street. Exiting the park we’ll make a right turn and head west to Columbus Circle and the final yards. The crowds are thick all along these final miles and they won’t allow you to stop, urging you with their constant shouts of just how short a distance there is to go. Yeah easy for them to say. If you have something written on your shirt the crowds will pick-up on it and use it you to call to you. Last time out I wrote “Dad - running for” and listed the names of my family members. Needless to say all of the shouts were “go Dad”, “almost there Dad”, etc. This year I guess I’ll be wearing Abilis.
Just before Columbus Circle is the last turn and final seven blocks. Re-entering Central Park the finish line is in view. It stretches over the road with the time clock flashing numbers. It’s all over now and anything I do will only effect my time by seconds. The goal now is to finish in style, head (and body) erect and to remember to hit the stop button on my watch as I pass under.

to be continued...

post# 19 5 days 13 h 47 m 56 s

Part 4
We’ll now wind our way through Long Island City in route to the Queensboro a.k.a. 59th Street Bridge. In years past this would have been a mostly desolate, industrial neighborhood. But like so much of the city, especially those areas within close proximity to Manhattan, high-rises have sprouted along the East River and former factories are now upscale apartment/lofts. As a result there is no stretch of the race where cheers will not be heard.
The approach to the 59th Street Bridge is one more of the small inclines in the route. Of greater issue here is the fact that it will be the first of two steel decked bridges. These are not flat steel plates but the serrated, waffle, knubbed steel variety that if you trip on will rip your legs, palms and or elbows open. You’re going to pay attention crossing the bridge.
The big payoff awaits the runners on the other side. The exit ramp makes a big, sweeping 225 degree turn going under the bridge and pouring the runners out onto First Avenue in the borough of Manhattan. The beginning of the sweep is a high retaining wall topped by a thick fringe of roaring spectators. As you progress around the circle the wall comes down to meet you at street level and suddenly you’re an Olympic athlete being greeted by a roar of adulation from thousands of fans as you enter the stadium. (Or maybe it’s the roar of the crowd atop the Coliseum ramparts greeting the gladiators to battle.) Either way it’s a nice momentary boost, for once you center your mind back to the task at hand, looking ahead you quickly realize that First Avenue is one seemingly endless stretch of road for as far as you can see.
This for me is where the work begins. It’s miles 16 through 19 and a half, up the endless First Avenue from 59th through 128th Streets. When I come to a water table somewhere in the 90’s I’ll stop for a drink, a splash over my head and a pause long enough to stretch for the first time. It’s from here on that I start to feel the miles pile on. A slight brain fog will creep in making it harder to calculate your miles or pace. The roaring crowds will gradually fall away as you progress up the avenue making you feel more and more on your own. Now you begin to feel the competition. It’s you against the miles.
At the top of Manhattan is the Willis Avenue Bridge, the second of the two steel decked bridges. Crossing over the Bronx River you’ll make your second shortest visit in the fifth of New York’s five boroughs, The Bronx. The marathon borders route 87 on one side and it’s here the spectators are at their smallest numbers. In short order you’re crossing back into Manhattan through Harlem and from here to the finish the crowds will once more steadily reappear with enthusiastic ferocity.

to be continued...

post# 18 6 days 12 h 18 m 01 s 18

Part 3
The route continues to wind its way through Brooklyn. With every neighborhood, the cheering crowds change to reflect the ebb and flow of religious, ethnic and cultural makeup of the city. Fort Greene has its diverse populace, Clinton Hill / Bedford-Stuyvesant predominately African American, Williamsburg a strange mix of Hasidic and hipster culture, Greenpoint Polish and more hipster, each block offers a unique window onto the fabric of the city and a distillation of the makeup of our country. I won’t break into “God Bless America” but this has to be the single greatest feature of running New York City. United by the event, everyone comes out to cheer and show their support for a crowd of strangers whose makeup is as diverse as their own, participating in an event they may never think to attempt themselves.
Around mile 13 via the Pulaski Bridge we’ll cross into Queens. This is also the halfway mark and at my pace just about the time that the front-runners will be crossing the finish line. I’ve often remarked that if I were to run just one mile as fast as I can it would not be as fast as these athletes average over the course of 26.2 miles. And they’re marathoners not sprinters.

to be continued...

Post# 17 7 days 15 h 53 m 50 s

Part 2
The race route is designed to touch all five boroughs, hence the start in Staten Island. But Staten Islanders are sorely short changed. Starting at the base of the bridge the route exits that borough and enters Brooklyn midway over the bridge. I doubt if we’re in Staten Island for a mile.
The route goes for a few short blocks as it turns and funnels the crowd onto Fourth Avenue. Fourth Av as we Brooklynites call it is an eight-lane boulevard with a concrete divider. It parallels New York harbor and the East river up to the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. Normally traffic runs in two directions along the western edge of Brooklyn from Bay Ridge to Flatbush Avenue and the borders of downtown Brooklyn and the neighborhood of Fort Greene.
The crowds here do not quite reach the density of other sections of the route where people will be shoulder to shoulder for miles creating a gauntlet of clapping and a wall of cheers. Each neighborhood has its distinctions and the most memorable feature of Fourth Av are the garage bands. I use this term literally as various rock groups are set up in gas stations closed for the marathon. Unable to service their customers they provide a surging sound track to the race. This is still very early on and the mood upbeat and positive.
The runners separated by the divider on Fourth Avenue will cross Flatbush and all meet up on Lafayette Avenue, which heading East will lead them in front of BAM, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and into my hood, Fort Greene. It’s here that runners will see their first hill. It’s not much as hills go but this is the first time that when looking ahead I’ll see the road rising up in the distance. About six blocks up this road, at the eight and a half mile mark I’ll hit my corner, Lafayette Avenue and Adelphi Street. It’s here that I’ll be greeted by my own, personal, cheering squad of family, friends and neighbors. It’s a great feeling to come upon support, but it’s later that it will be needed most. The eight and a half mile mark feels like a jaunt and it will be that many miles again and then some before the wear and tear begins to set in.
to be continued...

post# 16 10 days 19 h 19 m 51 s

Part 1
I received a comment that the blog offered a vicarious view for someone that might never run the marathon. So I thought I would offer up a mile by mile or at least my borough-by-borough experience of the New York City marathon.
Marathon morning is the first Sunday in November. It begins early, 6 a.m. with a cup of coffee and half a toasted bagel with cream cheese. So as to optimize sleep time, clothes, coffee, Metrocard and all will be prepped and laid out the night before. Invariably though the night will be somewhat fitful and anxious. The route to the marathon staging grounds in Fort Wadsworth at the foot of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge has varied each time. This year I’m assigned to travel via the Staten Island Ferry to that island borough where we’ll be met by a bus that will take us to the bridge. I’m already looking forward to the early morning cruise through New York harbor. The first time I ran we arrived at the fort so early that I lay down in the grass and took a nap. The next time round was better planned. I arrived in time to stretch, mill around a bit, visit the port-a-john and find my starting place. In my second run the marathon had pacers who run the route with flags displaying finishing times. Hoping to finish in less than 4 hours I corralled up with the 3 hour and 55 minute flag and started out running in that pack. This year I’m going for the 3 hour and 50 minute pacer.
I don’t recall any start announcements as much as everyone anxiously milling and checking their watches. As if motivated by some innate genetic coding, like lemmings to the sea the runners are slowly drawn to their starting corrals. The early November morning can be chilly. Most runners are wearing extra layers of clothing that will be pealed off and discarded. In short order the grounds will resemble the after affects of a tornado having exploded through a large clothing store. (All of these discards will be collected for charity.)
I believe that a cannon is fired to mark the start of the race but if so us mere mortals are too far back to hear it. I’m not certain when the cannon is actually fired given the staggered, multiple starts, wheel chairs and those running with aides, elite women, elite men and then the remaining throng of thousands. Here too there are now staggered star times. After my last run I vowed never to do New York again. There were so many runners that for the entire race I was constantly jumping into clear spaces to be able to run. After that year they instituted staggered start times for the masses. Something had to be done if they were to continue to increase the field. Within minutes of whenever the official start is the crowd begins shuffling in a forward motion. Somewhere in these first few hundred yards we’ll cross the start line. All of the runners are wearing a chip on their shoes through which official start, mid and end times are recorded. In short order you’ve broken into a run, the adrenaline kicks in and a collective metaphorical cheer surges through the crowd like a wave. No one (with any sense) sprints forward. With 26.2 miles to go there’s plenty of time to attempt to sprint.

to be continued...

post# 15 11 days 13 h 11 m 14 s

In the course of training one has to do what is referred to as “your long run”. Ten, thirteen even fifteen mile runs are necessary as the weekly miles are piled on. But at some point before the marathon you want to go that extra distance so as to be sure you have what it takes, that you can step up when the time comes. You want to get at least close enough to your wall to touch it. This of course is no guarantee, as you’ll still push yourself during the main event. Even with only eleven days to go anything can happen between now and then.
I‘ve always had mixed feeling about this run. How far does one go to feel you’ve done the distance and not go so far that you feel you could have just run a marathon before the marathon. How anti-climatic. Well I did mine on Saturday. Running that distance in New York can be a challenge in itself if you don’t want to go to Central Park and run in circles. I decided to put my usual two courses together. I ran up to Prospect Park, once around the perimeter, once around the interior, back past home and on to the Brooklyn Bridge, over to Manhattan to the west side, down to Battery Park, up to 24th Street, returning over the Brooklyn Bridge. I was taking an educated guess that course would accumulate sufficient mileage. According to an online jogging calculator it was just north of 23 miles. Hence my issue. I could of just run another three miles and been done with marathon.
Don’t worry. I’m still psyched. Running with 38,000 other runners will still be a unique experience.
As far as the wall goes I didn’t seem to find it. I must note that I’ve been having a bit of an issue with a sore calf that at times has caused me to take some days off and ice. I was feeling it on Saturday and after the park half of the run, as I headed to the bridge, I ran past home, jumped in for a bag of ice, strapped it onto my calf and ran on like that. I don’t know if that’s a recommended technique but it seemed to do the trick. The real trick from now till November 7 is to still run, but nurse the calf.

post# 14 16 days 20 h 33 m 50 s

Addendum on diet.

There are all sorts of products on the market to ingest (legal products) that are designed to replenish, boost, and otherwise aid your run and speed you along. I enjoy most of the various brands of bars. They’re quite good at quickly refilling your stomach after a long run when you’ve drained your body of most everything. They’re small and filling and basically taste like a candy bar, just not as sweet. I would never eat these while running for much the same reason. They’re so filling it feels like eating a meal while running.
I was never a fan of the various aides, Gator, Power and such. I just thought they tasted awful. The only time I actually enjoyed Gatoraide was a few years back when we took a bicycle tour of Canyon Lands National Park. Biking eighteen miles or so a day through the dessert, a product such as Gatoraide not only tasted good but also was essential. It has been suggested to me that the reason I enjoyed it then was because it was mixed from a powder, which is apparently a slightly different formula. I haven’t tested that theory as I simply prefer water and see no need for the other.
I recently tried one of the boost in a packet products. I can’t say that it gave me any extra energy, but neither did it bother my stomach. I may give it one more try to see if will replenish my energy near the end of a run. If so I’ll carry one in a pocket for mile 19 or 20, the first time I may stop for a stretch and to refocus my mind.
A few months back I did happen upon what has now become my preferred post long run drink. Robbin had returned from our local farmer’s market with a great tasting yogurt produced by a local dairy Ronnie Brook Farms. The next week I thought I would end a long morning run at the market and pick up more of the yogurt. I find great motivation in the last few miles of a run by focusing on what it is I’m going to eat and or drink upon reaching home. I remembered a stall at the market whose berry juice combinations I’d always enjoyed. Reaching the market I first headed for the yogurt. There I came upon Ronnie Brook Farms chocolate milk sitting in a bed of ice. The more you put your body under stress the more it speaks to you. If you stay open to the signs and listen it will tell you what it needs, when it thirsts or what it hungers for. I would never have thought to drink chocolate milk after a long depleting run. But in that state it only took one look at that bottle and I knew it would be what I needed. It was worth every mile of that run so as to reach that point of depletion and then be able to chug down that chocolate milk. I will be certain that my family has a bottle or two of Ronnie Brook Farms chocolate milk with them when they meet me at the finish line on November 7.

Post #13 22 days 23 h 27 m 39 s

I thought I might say a word on diet. I’ve not had to drastically change mine while preparing for the marathon. As in most aspects of my life moderation rather than excess is more my norm. Okay, sure I am human and can be tempted as my post regarding the Starbuck’s ice cream sale bore out. My diet is normally healthy and well balanced with fruits and fresh vegetables, a moderate amount of meat and a casual intake of beer, sweets and starch. Not having to make a radical change, as training progressed I slowly backed almost totally away from this last grouping.
The one necessity I’ve tried hard to increase is my water intake. There have been times when a run has taken its toll and for hours afterward I can’t stop drinking. But generally I don’t thirst a great degree. The key is to remain hydrated. In my first marathon, while waiting in Fort Wadsworth Park for the starting cannon, I kept guzzling water. It did nothing to hydrate me but instead filled me up and made me have to pee before I even got over the Verrazano Bridge. Dreading the thought of stopping at the very start of the race to stand in line at a Port-a-John, I like many others relieved ourselves off the side of the bridge. I now will only drink a cup of coffee on race day morning. If I’m not hydrated by then it’s too late at that point. I will make quick water stops on the racecourse and pour some of it over my head.
Much the same goes for carb loading. A friend had a suggestion that I would have to say judging from my body’s reaction works well. His claim was that if one is to load up on carbohydrates just prior to the run your body’s cells after a few pasta meals simply thinks “carbs – we’ve been seeing a lot of these. There’s no need to stuff ourselves with them they’ll be more where this came from.” The key is at about three weeks prior to the run to stop eating all carbs for about ten days. No bread, no pasta, no more muffins or croissants for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch or potatoes at dinner. Before the ten days are up I’ll have to cross the street to avoid passing a bakery or I might kill to reach the source of the fresh bread aroma. I can feel my body thirsting for carbohydrates. Then for the final days my diet is toasted bagels, baked potato with sour cream and pasta dinners. Maybe I’ll have all three at one meal. Then those same cells will say ”carbohydrates – haven’t seen these in so long. There’s no telling when we’ll see them again. Let’s pack them away.”

Post #12 25 days 13 h 07 m 00 s

I’m at the countdown. It’s been eleven months of slowly ramping up the miles and determination. I guesstimate that over the course of that time I’ve perhaps spent 180 hours running some 1,200 miles and I’m not there yet. So here I am with one month to go. I can remember being at this milepost before and having the same feeling I have now. Bring it on. Could I be more prepared than I am right now? After months of getting up early to run before work, pushing off diner so as to make time for an evening run, spending half of a weekend on long runs and recoveries, I’m ready to get to it. (And I might add so is my family who though totally supportive would like to have me back for some of that time.) This may be the hardest time to stay the course, not back down on the mileage and see this through to the last day. But of course I will. For myself, for all of you who have show your support of my effort and for Abilis, I will see this through to November 7 with my complete dedication. So it’s back to the road and see you in 25 days, 13 hours, 7 minutes and 0 seconds.

Post #11 34 days 19 h 51 m 37 s

While I’m on a rant, it’s necessary that I make an additional comment regarding the litter on my street in Brooklyn. As on the country roads, the litter on my block consists of particular, recognizable items that speak of the users and litterers of my neighborhood. There is a middle and grade school down the street. After the morning rush to beat the school bell the street is littered with soda bottles and chip bags. As much as the kids need to be taught about conscientious garbage disposal, it is perhaps of greater importance that they be taught proper dietary principles. What are parents thinking to send their kids to school without breakfast and give them the money for fried, salty snacks to be washed down with high fructose corn syrup?
In the afternoon after the boisterous throngs of pent up energy have passed on their way home, the street is littered with cardboard take-out containers with the leftovers of greasy fries smothered in ketchup. What are our educational institutions thinking that it’s all right to teach grade school kids that greasy processed starch covered in tomato salt is an acceptable diet for growing minds and bodies. People wake-up. Is America aware of its health and weight problem? Is it turning to local produce, balanced diets and healthy foods? Are we saying enough junk food, and grounding our youth in healthy food habits? Sadly I think not.

Post # 10 37 days 21 h 46 m 34 s

Looking back at my post regarding litter on country roads I now realize I’ve been unfair to have excluded city streets. I’m sure that per square foot there is far more trash littering my Brooklyn neighborhood than the combined total of country roads I traverse. It’s that the trash set against the canvas of rural splendor seems far more egregious and out of place.
But even the city with its issues of population and trash removal does not offer a decent excuse for careless litter. So city dwellers if you’re reading this take note. You may not have dropped the litter in front of your house but that’s no reason not to pick it up. Perching your discard on top of the overflowing pile spewing out of a trash can all of which is about to fall off into the street does not qualify as properly disposing of your garbage. Adding your litter to trash that is in an inappropriate place, dropping it out of your car, leaving it behind on the subway and just thoughtlessly disposing of trash you wouldn’t dream of discarding in the middle of your living room, in our collective living room, is not okay.
During a recent Prospect Park run I witnessed a man who while parking his car became annoyed by a large plastic soda bottle at the curb. Exiting the car he picked up the bottle and tossed it into the edge of the park. As I went by I gave him my best look of disgust. Immediately defensive he protested that he didn’t drop it in the street and was only moving it away from his car. I made the point that if he could pick it up why couldn’t he carry it to a trashcan rather than throw it into the park. How could he justify that as a better place for it. He replied by suggesting that I kiss a certain part of his body that I wouldn’t care to see even in my imagination no less put my lips to. I’m really not the confrontational type. But sometimes I just can’t stop myself. I offered to take him up on his suggestion and that he should oblige by dropping his draws. Needless to say this wasn’t going anywhere and having reached the limit of my involved interest I ran on. On my second loop around the park I looked for the bottle intending to pick it up. It was nowhere to be found.

A Few Thoughts About Abilis

I’m Dan Edelstein, a long time friend of Jeff’s and a fellow sound editor. My wife Pat and I have lived, with our 17 year old son Joe, in Greenwich, CT since we moved from beautiful Brooklyn in 1998. During our time here, Joe, who has significant physical and cognitive disabilities, has had the good fortune of being able to take advantage of the great people and programs provided by Abilis. When I was growing up, organizations like theirs didn’t exist, or if they did I was unaware of them. As difficult as it is to raise a child with profound disabilities, it would be almost unimaginably more so without organizations like Abilis.

Among other things, they’ve provided essential help throughout Joe’s years in the Greenwich Public Schools, most importantly giving school staff much needed support and advice dealing with his sometimes inappropriate behaviors. (Hey, what typical kid doesn’t get upset when he’s not doing exactly what he wants all the time?) Joe is non-verbal, so they understood that it was critical that he gain a “voice” so he could exert some control over his life. Due to their prompting, the school got him a computer which has become the centerpiece of his education. He uses it throughout the day to communicate and make choices, and his “behaviors” are much diminished. Joe’s use of his computer has provided the biggest improvement to the quality of his life to this point.

For Joe and all the special needs kids in the area, Abilis provides activities that they would otherwise never have the opportunity to participate in. They put on plays and dances. They take music classes and perform concerts. They go bowling. They go hunting. (Wait......hunting? No, that’s a joke.) They travel. In light of the fact that people with special needs got almost no support as little as 30 years ago, the formation and growth of support service organizations like Abilis is really one of the cultural miracles of our lifetime.

Right now, Joe is beginning to transition out of high school, into young adult programs, and programs that promote interaction with the community at large. Again, Abilis is providing critical consultations to the school staff, providing ideas and support in all these areas. They are a part of his “team” at school and in fact outnumbered actual school personnel at our last meeting. (But that’s another story - don’t get me started.)

Both for his own independence and anticipating a time when Pat and I are no longer able to care for him, as Joe approaches 21 we’ll be in the process of finding a new home for him, one where he’ll receive the support and care that he’ll need for the rest of his life. It’s an indication of the trust we have in Abilis that when the time comes, we’ll have no hesitation trusting that he’ll be in the best hands possible in one of the residences that they administer. Well, almost no hesitation - we are human after all.

Finally, I’d like to thank Jeff for this incredible gesture to run the Marathon on behalf of Abilis. I was kind of dumbfounded when he suggested the idea to me a couple months ago and now six weeks before the run, I’m still somewhat stunned. Thanks so much Jeff! That’s way beyond the call of duty. And speaking of duty, isn't about time you stopped reading, got off your butt and put in a few miles? Good man.

Post #9 45 days 16 h 31 m 10 s

Running in country environs is truly idyllic. What better way to immerse oneself in the singular accomplishment of conquering miles powered only by your own strength and will. The beautiful vistas, fresh air and surprise meetings with wild life offer a welcome reprise from charged city culture and an escape to an inner rhythm. Sadly litter is a persistent and rude intrusion in the landscape.
There is not a trail, street or small country road that is not marred by garbage. On woodland trails it is not unusual to happen upon garbage dumps of bottles, cans, bathroom fixture, stoves, tires and even entire automobiles. I will admit that some of these have offered interesting archeological digs to a time when the term recycling may not have existed and little thought was given to the effects of this detritus on the environment.
It’s the current, careless roadside trash that is truly disturbing. Running along the shoulder of the road offers an intimate view of this eyesore. I can itemize this flotsam and jetsam of our disposable consumer culture in a short list of very specific categories; Bud Light, Coors light, Pepsi, Sprite, the variety of McDonalds’ packaging and in North Carolina cigarette packs. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I wonder if a demographic profile of litterers couldn’t be produced from this list.
I think come November 8 my next project may be RateMyRoad.com. I’ll encourage readers to go out, survey their streets, compile a list of the trash they find, take pictures and encourage their neighbors to see what their streets look like. Maybe we can organize a national clean up your street day and have Anheuser-Busch, Coors, PepsiCo, McDonalds and big tobacco sponsor it.
I think I’m going to be very busy.

Post #8 46 days 15 h 42 m 45 s

I’ve been suggesting goals to base your pledges on. Then last week I received an email from the marathon organization with a video message from actor, activist and runner Edward Norton. It seems he has started an organization to activate people to work for charities and was linking this to the marathon’s efforts for charitable sponsorship. And his suggestions, sponsor a runner, pledge per mile, something for finishing, etc. Sound familiar? Hello! Okay, so maybe it’s an obvious idea. So if you want another perspective from someone else visit
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAzPUzZaqqA and see what Ed has to say. He’s entertaining. Then check back in with www.abilismarathon.blogspot.com and consider a pledge through http://www.abilis.us/index.htm . As always, thank you.

Post #7 48 days 10 h 39 m 22 s

When I started this endeavor I suggested you might pledge by the miles I complete or a bonus for beating my previous marathon run. Should you choose to go this route I feel it’s only fare that I supply you with statistics on which to base your pledge.
The first marathon I ran was in 1994. I had just turned forty-two. As I described earlier the only prior race experience I had run was a five-kilometer “fun run.” I wasn’t immersed in a culture of running. I pretty much just went out and did it on my own terms. I don’t remember my routine of sixteen years ago but certain details would suggest that it was lacking in appropriate intensity. I had been running short distances, fast. Just prior to the marathon I did the Wall Street 5k Run in which I was only seconds short of a 7-minute pace. I feel certain it was the fastest I’ve ever run. Despite a lack of marathon research some essential information penetrated my stubborn independence. One of those important details was the essential requirement to do longer runs. Had I not I would most likely of gone out marathon day at much too fast a pace and spent myself early, perhaps not even finishing. I completed the marathon in 4 hours, 21 minutes. Except for the finishing times of friends, whom I consider to be more serious if not simply better athletes, I had nothing to compare it to. This isn’t the type of race the majority of us would ever think of in terms of winning. To put it in perspective, about the time that I was reaching the half way point the front runners were finishing. If I were to go out and run only one mile as fast I could, it would not even be close to what the front runners average over the course of 26 miles. This is the type of race that’s about a personal best. I knew I had pushed and run the entire distance and felt good about my time.
It was seven years of getting back into the mood and three years of attempting to receive a number before I ran again. It was 2004 and I was now fifty-two. I was still doing things my own way but this time a bit more seriously. I know I trained harder and longer and the results showed, 4 hours and 34 seconds. That was 34 seconds shy of my 4 hour goal. But I was also ten years older and 21 minutes faster. A finishing place of 8,603 out of a filed of 36,513. I felt pretty good about that until about three days later when I remember thinking I could have done better. I had to remind myself that I had been getting up at 6am to run before work, running on weekends and generally investing most of my free time. How much more committed could I possibly have been. That’s how it gets you hooked and makes you want to do one more. That’s why I’m here again now.
Come Sunday November 7, 2010 I will be three days past my 58th birthday and my goal – under 4 hours.

Post #6 57 days 21 h 20 m 37 s

I have to admit here publicly that I fell off the wagon last week. It was the first full week of classes. I returned to Miami with determination to dive into school and not falter from my running routine. Classes were going quite well but I can’t say the same for new computers in my labs. Free time melted away and every promise to myself that I would run that evening or next morning went unrealized. I managed only two or three short runs. I had also for a few weeks planned, needed to do, an eighteen-mile run. I also had the sobering realization that M-day is only two months away. During this time I faced my ultimate temptation. The grocery store had a buy-one-get-one-free Starbucks ice cream sale. I succumbed.
The following weekend found us in North Carolina and I was determined to make amends. Friday I went out for eight miles, repeated this on Saturday and Sunday finally did eighteen or 18.7 to be precise. All systems were go, all the parts felt good and I’m happy to report that I’m back on top of that wagon.

Post #5 58 days 15 h 31 m 36 s

Many of you may know that I am a sound editor for motion pictures, that I live in Fort Greene Brooklyn and that for the past five years my day job has been as a professor of film at the University of Miami. Along with racking up frequent flier miles this provides me with four running environs: Brooklyn, which we still call home, North Carolina where we will go monthly to visit Robbin’s 90 year old mom, Pennsylvania were Robbin works and Miami or Coral Gables, to be precise, were I teach. All are very different running environments. Of the four, Miami (sorry ’Canes) is my least favorite. Running in Miami can be summed up in three words: hot, muggy, flat. Hills are a bump in the road or a pass over a roadway. Thankfully, I’m not there in the summer. But it’s mid-August and school has begun and exterior exertion is best described as a hybrid of running and swimming.
If I go out in the morning my run is the perimeter of a small open golf course in the center of town. Evenings I enjoy the longer meandering golf course behind the Biltmore Hotel. I wasn’t sure of the golf course’s policy on runners and, except for one late afternoon, would always go out in the evening when it was too dark for anyone to still be playing. On that one afternoon, the golf cart patrol came swooping down within minutes of my run and escorted me off. It seems in the past some poor slob running the course had been hit in the face with a golf ball.
Contemplating his encounter with a golf ball consumed my thoughts for a while. A golf ball is perhaps one and a quarter cubic inches. What are the chances that that tiny sphere should occupy the exact one and a quarter cubic inches of space at the exact moment in time that the unfortunate runner’s face entered it. I’d never thought that fate, or luck good or bad, had any validity as a life philosophy. I’m also not one to go out of my way to test these unknowns. I’ll run the course after dusk and enjoy it.

Post #4 61 days 09 h 03 m 51 s

Friends will ask about my running routine, my marathon strategy. I think of myself as somewhat disciplined. I keep up the weekly miles, going out because I know I should even if I may not feel like it. But a game plan, especially one based on research has never been my style. One can’t help but absorb some information, tidbits of sage advice expounded by other runners and millions of unavoidable column inches. But for the most part I tend to go my own way. My first marathon experience may illustrate this well.
Due to the influence of my wife and friends, running was becoming a casual part of my regular exercise regime. It was about this time that my kids’ school sponsored what they called a “fun run” in Prospect Park. Once around the inner loop a distance of 5 kilometers. I had never run anything remotely like a race. It was the last Saturday in October. The four of us headed to the park. We were glad to have the opportunity to exercise with our kids—and as it turned out it became a really fun and important event for our family.
We all ran and finished although as I remember my wife carried Luke halfway around the course. Out of perhaps seventy participants I came in twelfth. To put this in perspective it’s not a serious race but a school social event. The runners are all associated with the school and cover the gamut of first to twelfth graders, parents and teachers. Luke was eight and Hannah twelve. There were a few serious runners. I remember pushing near the end of the race to catch a teenager ahead of me when he suddenly turned off the road and stopped to throw up. At the time I was terribly impressed at this young man pushing himself that hard. But with the perspective of time and experiencing my own kids’ passage through the teenage years I now question how much was courage or perhaps the results of Saturday night activities.
For me the real result of the run was that it turned me on to the personal challenge of competitive running. It was great fun and I immediately began thinking of something more. It just so happened that the marathon was the next weekend. Of course! That was the something more at least in my mind. From a 5K, three and one tenth mile to the next step in the evolution: a marathon, 26 and two tenth miles. To me it made perfect sense.
I didn’t say anything to anyone about my idea especially my wife who would have been all over me to get out and train. I slowly upped my miles and didn’t let on until I reached a point where I felt I could take this idea beyond the concept stage. I also did not run to the bookstore and pile up on running books of which there are many that cover the spectrum of running philosophies. I just went out and did what felt right for me.
My no research rubric had almost disastrous results in my efforts to acquire a number for the New York City marathon. Our running friends had participated many times and I remembered they would go at a prescribed date to Central Park at four in the morning and wait in line to get a number. Little did I realize the changes the marathon had undergone. In 1970, the first year there were 127 runners. In 2009 there were 43,660. The increased field of entrants along with a thing called the internet had exploded and numbers were now given out by an online lottery whose date had already past. I kept running assuming that I would now have an extra and unexpected year to prepare.
One weekend at my son’s baseball league game I entered into conversation with another dad who was an engineer for the city and a long time runner. One thing led to another and I was surprised to learn that he had participated in mapping the course for the New York City marathon. Originally run as loops in Central Park, it now charted a course that touched each of the city’s five boroughs. Fred Lebow co-founder of the marathon and long time New York Road Runner’s president had recently been diagnosed with brain cancer and my friend was going to pay him a visit. He assured me that he would enquire into obtaining a number on my behalf. The following week at the baseball diamond he informed me I would be receiving my number in the mail. It was the only time I can say that I have ever had connections.
On this my third marathon I’m much more together. But still have yet to research running advice.

Your Pledge Questions Answered

Great post, Jeffrey! That last run was a fantastic story that, if I were you, I would tell at cocktail parties for years to come! :)

I am happy to report that Abilis has begun to receive donations and since a lot of people have been asking me how to make a pledge, I've decided to post and make it clearer. Anyone who wants to support Jeffrey's endeavor (and help Abilis in the process!) can do so in a number of ways:

1) Make it fun! Email me (at runk@abilis.us) that you are pledging $5 per mile Jeffrey runs or $50 for halfway and another $50 for finishing. Or, make up your own pledge and I will keep track of pledges through marathon day.

2) Just send a check! You can send a check payable to Abilis with NYC Marathon in the memo to:
Kristen Runk
Abilis
50 Glenville Street
Greenwich, CT 06831

3) Donate online. You can also make your donation securely through our website at www.abilis.us/giving.htm. Under "Optional - Gift Reference", please choose "NYC Marathon" so we know how to tag your gift.

4) Keep reading! It is of vital importance to us that people continue to learn about what Abilis does and who we are helping so please stay tuned to this blog.

And please feel free to contact me, Kristen Runk, at any time. (203) 531-1880 x110 or runk@abilis.us.

Post #3 68 days 13 h 02 m 19 s

Due to my wife Robbin’s new job I have in the past month had the opportunity to run in the beaucolic and varied countryside of Northeastern Pennsylvania. Farm fields, cow pastures, wooded trails and rolling country roads offer varied and challenging running terrain. In my first visit I concentrated on the hiking trails through the woods behind the house where we were staying. Although well maintained the trails call for careful footing over rocky and rooted terrain. With care it offered a fast run through the fragrant, lush hillside. The pleasantries of Prospect Park Brooklyn pale in comparison. The lush green and dampness beneath the canopy, punctuated by the startled gaze of a buck creates a spirited connection to the natural world. A hike on these trails would be equally splendid, but for me running offers a closer bond to the woods and its inhabitants. These runs are both physically and emotionally exhilarating.
I returned again to Pennsylvania for a few days last week. This time I decided to head out on the roads. Two lane country roads dip and rise, and weave like ribbons meandering their way over the countryside. This is motoring as I described it earlier. Running up to the crest of a hill I could look out over the fields to a point where the weaving road reappears at a distant turn. Judging the distance I could make an educated guess that in about five minutes I would be cresting that distant peak. My safety concerns on this terrain was to listen for cars that might appear from around a blind turn. Otherwise I was free to motor, take in the vistas, moo at passing cows or marvel at a gaggle of wild turkeys that would suddenly burst forth from the greenery at the side of the road.
Day one I headed out on a road that Robbin and I had walked for a few miles the previous evening. I decided I would run out for forty-five minutes and then turn back. A pleasant but undulating stretch, it made for excellent hill work. On day two I discovered it to be the single hilliest stretch of that road. It tested muscles I typically don’t use.
Day two I decided I was up for something more. Two miles up this road was a sign indicating that Honesdale, the town where Robbin works was ten miles distance. I wasn’t sure just how precise those mile markers might be, but felt certain it was doable. It turned out to be quite accurate as we clocked it by car at twelve and one half miles. It was another pleasant run and an opportunity for new discoveries; lakes, turn of the 20th century architecture, a farmer selling eggs, beef and pork. When I’ve run a long distance through terrain such as this I can’t help feeling that I now own it. I’ve traversed the distance under my own power and in so doing rendered that space to a scale that I can physically understand and relate to.
Day three turned out to be entirely different from anything I could have imagined or had ever experienced. Having run something close to twenty miles of hill terrain in the past two days, I decided to return to the hiking trails and enjoy an easy jaunt in the woods. I had noticed some trails behind the house other than those I had previously taken. They were in close proximity to the routes I knew and I assumed that they would link up. It took a few attempts to find a route into the woods. The first one proved not so much a trail as twenty minutes of delicately maneuvering a deer path through brambles that led back to where I had begun. If I had run it I would have been ripped to shreds. As it was I used two sticks to navigate through the thorns.
My second attempt in was on a cleared path that lured me with markings. But the red marks soon vanished and several dead ends latter, rather than back track, I decided I knew the general direction and would head on. Through lush woods and pine forests with no undergrowth, over streams, up embankments, continually turning in what I was sure was the correct direction, listening for foresters I knew where working in the vicinity, I finally emerged on the edge of a farm field. None of this looked even vaguely familiar. Emerging from the woods I ran across the field to the top of the hill where there appeared to be a road and perhaps a view that might offer a clue to my whereabouts. I decided against running into the middle of the field to wave down the farmer atop his tractor haying the fields. I could be wrong but didn’t think most farmers would take kindly to a crazy, waving mad man running across their land and keeping them from their work.
The road at the far edge of the field led down hill to a pond and another dead end. It also now meant another backtracking up hill. Heading further up the road in the other direction I suddenly saw well off in the distance, against the soft curves of leafy greens, the unmistakable rectangular shape of a street sign. It was a small one lane which led to another and another and finally to a two lane road with a yellow dividing line. Surely a familiar landmark would appear. Instinctually I turned left and up the hill. But it was this same instinct that had led me on a crazed run through what now seemed like an elite Marine Corps, special ops, extreme training course. I stopped at the top of the hill and tried to reason my location. Back in the other direction was the wood from where I had emerged into the farm field. I turned around and headed back down the road. A few miles and a couple of attempts of waving down cars for directions, which returned only a friendly country wave, a young man stopped. “Was this the direction to Boyds Mills”, I asked. He assured me it was. I was afraid to ask him how far I still had to go. Delighted that I was on course to home I thanked him and proceeded running. With each turn of the road, or crest of a hill still nothing looked familiar. After about twenty minutes of this the good samaritan, returning from the other direction pulled up beside me. “I got to thinking” he said, “I didn’t know if you where looking for Boyds Mills Road and a circular running route, or the town of Boyds Mills as the crow flies.” I’m not sure if it was the wilting look in my eyes or the sag of my body across his fender that clued him to my desperation for the crow’s route. “Because the shortest way there” he concluded gently “is in the other direction.” So much for instinct versus reason. It turns out he was a biker who does circular routes in the area. He read my body language signaling I was physically spent. “Why don’t you hop in. I’ll give you a lift.” It turned out I wasn’t so far that I would not have made it on my own but was most grateful for the lift. He dropped me off at the ten-mile sign and I finished the two-mile run back to the house.
So concluded my “easy jaunt in the woods” two hour, half marathon, boot camp morning outing. After food and a shower I was certain that I would not have passed it up for anything and would gladly repeat the ordeal again. I’m not sure I could say I owned that run. Respected it perhaps.

Post #2 72 days 15 h 21 m 06 s

Running for me is a solitary sport. Friends will often comment to me how boring running is. I will admit that I too found it so in the beginning. It took years of casual running before finding true enjoyment. When I’ve tried to describe the exhilaration of a long run, I always return to the same word; “motoring”. As that word suggests I feel as if I’m being transported by means other than my body’s locomotion. Not the mechanical, combustion propelled power of a car, nor the human powered mechanics of a bicycle, “motoring” is a strange hybrid. There is the sensation of a machine even though I know it is my legs and their muscles that are transporting me. But I have no sensation of this. There is no way to feel my brain sending its electrical signals to my legs to lift the right foot, stretch out the right leg, balance with the left foot while pushing off and propel my body forward, plant the right foot absorbing the weight of my body in motion, levering over my right foot and then repeat all of this and more, much more, with the left. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat. My body is on its own and I am watching the scenery go by. I’m motoring. Perhaps this is what others may refer to as runner’s high. I don’t feel it every time I run or for the complete tenure of a run. It’s more prevalent on longer runs and is especially acute when running in new places. It is then that I’m a solitary tourist in a strange land, discovering new places, seeing the sights go by, enjoying beautiful vistas. My own steady breaths and metronome of footfalls are my company. Running is freedom.

Thank You from Abilis

Abilis would like to extend an enormous THANK YOU to Jeffrey for coming up with this fantastic idea. We are thrilled to be supported in such a creative and interesting way. As an introduction to those of you who don't know, Abilis provides services to people of all ages with autism, Down syndrome and other developmental disabilities and their families in lower Fairfield County, CT and parts of upper Westchester County, NY. Just a few of the services we provide include: early intervention for young children, training to families of children with autism, employment services, residential services and recreation opportunities for children and adults.

Over the coming weeks we will continue to post updates on the important work that Abilis does every day, but if you wish to learn more now, we do encourage you to visit our website at www.abilis.us. In the meantime, we're excited to learn more about Jeffrey's journey toward the NYC marathon. How's training going, Jeffrey?

POST #1 - 86 days 10 h 02 m 26 s

BACKSTORY
Unless it proved to be a most grueling and horrible experience, I can’t imagine running a marathon and not wanting to repeat the feat. It had been five years since my previous marathon and the juices had been percolating. If you are a serious, serious runner, waiting five years to run your next marathon would be ludicrous. I’m not talking about the fanatics who run more than one a year or have run one in every state of the union and a few foreign countries. If you’re a long distance runner who runs regularly, one marathon a year would be de rigueur.
Last year I was in a state of marathon contemplation when a relative came to run New York for his first time. We live in Brooklyn where at about the eight mile mark the marathon passes within twenty yards of our front stoop. Most every year, along with our neighbors, we eagerly await the front-runners and stay for a while to cheer the following masses. Add to this the extra layer of excitement of watching for someone you know and I was ready to sign on once more.
Getting charged up was the relatively easy part especially compared to the training regimen and luck of obtaining entrance to the run. There are a few ways to “get a number” for the New York City marathon. One may choose to run a series of qualifying races the previous year. But the most common way is through an online lottery. Even though 38,000 runners get a number, it’s no easy feat. For my previous marathon it took three years of trying at which point having not been picked you are by default given a number. This is somewhat less than ideal, as one has to be in the early phase of training, to say nothing of the proper mindset by the time the lottery is drawn. I had been running regularly this past year and felt prepared should I gain entrance.
About the time of the NY marathon in early November, charities step up their fund drives. If family finances allow I will do our once every five-year contribution for a membership of the local NPR station and some other charity to which my modest donation might make a difference. Around this time I received an invitational email from a colleague in the film industry, Dan Edelstein, for a charitable walk for Abilis, an organization that serves people of all ages with autism, Down syndrome and other developmental disabilities. Abilis offers support to Dan’s son and his family. I will leave it to Dan or others to post their personal experience of the fine work Abilis provides. I was not able to attend the charity walk. But should I get a marathon number it sparked an idea of how I might offer some aid to the organization. Many large charities sponsor walks and runs of every variety. Until this point I had been thinking of the marathon on purely personal terms: could I do it again, could I best my time, etc? Why not put my run to some other use that could do something good for others.
The numbers were drawn and on April 8 the email arrived. I’m in. So quite simply, that is what this blog is about, an effort on my part to not just run 26.2 miles but ask for sponsorship in support of Abilis. There will be more details on this to come but for now consider the options: one dollar a mile, a bonus if I finish, double pledge if I beat my previous time or simply pledge what you can.
Training is essential. Nothing can replace getting out there daily, putting in the miles, building stamina and plotting strategy. One can never underestimate the importance of will, determination and mind-set. What better motivation than to know that I have the support through your sponsorship to this worthy cause.
Please check back regularly to monitor my progress, read some thoughts on running and learn more about Abilis. Thanks.