Fail

My goal for May, to run every single day, did not come to pass. However I did manage 23 out of 31 days and I feel really good about that. I ran a total of 38 miles, which is more than I’ve ever run in my life, and I can honestly say I understand what it feels like to really want to run. It’s astounding to me that I could reach a point where I not only lack a feeling of dread in regards to running but actually can’t wait to get out there and do it. I don’t feel it every time, but I’m starting to get how good this can be.

Oh and plus I ran up a mountain.

So all in all I’m diggin’ this fail because of the many tiny successes buried in it.

Go me! Go running! Hooray for things that bring us health and happiness!

Mountains Are Fun To Run Down

Turns out Art LaFlamme is a really nice guy. I had expected a lot of, “Get your ass in gear soldier! MOVE! MOVE!” as we made our way up to the top of Kuliouou Ridge, but instead got pleasantries and a pace I could keep up with. He’s less of a drill sergeant and more of an intelligence specialist and wouldn’t you know, that makes for very interesting conversation about secret lairs in the Shenandoah Valley.

And make it to the top we did, switchback after never ending switchback plus the whole part with the stairs yeesh!, running almost the entire way.

I had forgotten how rewarding it is when you come out of the trees and get to traipse along the narrow ridge. It’s an entirely different experience than being “in the woods”. It’s not so much the view for me as the quality of the air, the sounds of nothing but wind and birds and the feeling of being somewhere relatively few people go.

After a few minutes rest at the windy peak we broke into a gallop and cruised the whole way down. Very few things beat the sensation of running all out downhill. It’s akin to freefall in that all you can do is be in the exact moment you’re in. Any thoughts outside Where do I place my foot? and Holy shit this is frickin’ awesome! will result in a trip and a fall and a tumble and a broken something or other for sure.

Thank you Art for not groaning too loudly at the onset when I admitted to never having run up a hill before, for setting a reasonable pace and for getting me closer to tackling my next goal. Best of luck to you in Virginia!

Running With Strangers

Tomorrow morning I’m going to make my first attempt to run up the Kuliouou Ridge Trail. To clarify any confusion I may have caused last week, the Kuliouou Valley Trail (where my head went ba-bump against a tree) is a lovely mostly flat jaunt along the valley floor. The difference between that and the adjacent ridge trail is an elevation gain of 2,000 feet. Ya-huh.

My plan for the coming weeks is to flip flop between running the ridge trail and running from my house to the trailhead. So some days I’ll run the roads going a little farther each time. And other days I’ll drive to the trailhead and just work on running the hill. Then when I feel confident in both I’ll try to make the entire 10 mile long, 2,000 feet high journey in one go. I’m shooting for the end of July.

And now I shall call out Art LaFlamme, the complete stranger I will be making this first ridge ascent with tomorrow. Art is an Army Sergeant so I figure if anyone can provide me with sheer motivation, he can. On the flip side, if I don’t make it out alive, you’ll all know it’s his fault.

See you tomorrow Art!

P.S.  My doctor was impressed with the magnitude of the bump on my skull and confirmed yesterday that I’ve been in a mildly concussive state all week. Trees are like hard and stuff.

Kuliouou Valley Trail Run

Yes!! [Except the part where I smacked my head on a tree and almost passed out. Hee hee]

Second Date

I drove an hour up the coast to Laie today to meet the Italian for a second date. He said he wanted to take a long hike, spend some quality time together and really get to know me. It’s funny to me that he offered so many compliments and kind words after our first meeting, made it seem like he was really excited to hang out again, considering he didn’t show up.

I waited an hour in the parking lot at the trail permit office, but alas, even after several OK Cupid messages to make it clear to him exactly where I was waiting, his white GMC truck never made an appearance. So I pulled out and drove back home with a Lonely Island comedy marathon cheering me up via my iPod. Hours after the fact he sent me a note to explain. You see his car broke down and he had sent me an email earlier (which he can’t for the life of him figure out why I never received) and then, oopsy daisy, he forgot his cell phone in the tow truck! Silly Italian! Now it all makes sense.

There are two saving graces here. One is that the drive along the coast is breathtaking and two is that I know better than to get my hopes up in regards to strangers from the internet. But still, it was a bummer.

And so it was that I found myself hiking alone at Kuliouou near my house, a late afternoon salvage of an almost ruined day. The dogs were by my side. I hate to sound so cliché but for this one moment I’m going to forgive my slip. I think they’re the only straight males in my life who have never let me down. That’s not to suggest I’m truly saddened or depressed over this morning’s event, it’s just that in general it seems kind of ridiculous that these attempts at romance have proved so wasteful of my time and energy.

While my dear friend from NYC was visiting last week she said the most fantastic thing on the beach at Hanauma Bay. She said the journey to find love let us down so we decided to pursue happiness instead.

I am so thankful that having had a good dose of happiness, I no longer let failed love interests cloud my day. After the hike I brought the boys back home and ran four glorious sunset miles along Kalaniana’ole, landing on my forefoot and rocking gently back towards my arch. This is quickly becoming my preferred technique as it seems to allow me better posture and zero stress on my plantar fascia.

Focus has been restored to where it really belongs.

It’s A Miracle I Even Showed Up

I hate dating. It’s an awful chore. To say I would prefer staying home on a Friday night to scrub my toilet is simply part of the happy reality my life has become. Grey’s Anatomy reruns on the couch with my cat… or an exciting night out with a hot guy from a dating website? You can bet I’m in my PJ’s chomping on salted caramel biscotti by 8:00 pm.

Yesterday morning, in fact, I ran four miles landing solely on my forefoot and here’s why: I was hoping the stress to my calves would prove painful enough for me to cancel the date I finally and most begrudgingly agreed to. That’s actually the thought that swam through my head the entire run. I’m so sorry but I’ll have to cancel. My calves are too sore.

What is wrong with me? Right? That’s the question because clearly my complete lack of desire to date and meet new people must mean there’s something wrong. Lately I’ve been thinking something radical. Maybe I’m just trying to protect what I have from my own bad tendency to throw it to the dogs every time an eligible bachelor strolls through. Maybe it’s a mature and successful tactic subconsciously aimed at maintaining my true hard earned happiness.

Well in this case the pain didn’t prove severe enough and the guy proved genuinely charming (is that an oxymoron?) and sufficiently insistent. Clearly the universe’s way of telling me not only to keep running but maybe squeeze in a new acquaintance every now and then. Gross.

So I went, but not without a struggle and a scowl. I’m a Pisces and I don’t wear make up so whatever is happening in my head at any given moment is happening on my face. If I’m tired, I look tired. If I don’t want to be somewhere, well…

Exhausted, wreaking of coffee grinds, my shoes covered in steamed milk, I barely managed to change into jeans and a tee shirt and brush my hair. I was late and definitely not smiling when I arrived. And even so, the dude was awesome.

Because here’s the thing about tall, passionate, Italian men: they are tall and passionate and Italian and men. Real men. Broad, strong, confident, romantic. They don’t need anybody to be anything. They just are who they are no matter what. Their faces light up and their arms flail when they talk about the things they’re passionate about. (In this case North Shore surfing, high end real estate sales and gigantic wood carvings.) They’re not afraid of children, in fact they probably already have a few. They guide you away from obstructions in your path with the gentlest touch to the middle of your back. They insist on walking on whatever side presents the most danger. And when you’re tired because you woke up at 5:00 am to take your friend to the airport then worked a long busy shift on your feet all day, they speak in thick accents and say things like, “You need to go home and get some sleep. I’ll walk you to your car but only if you promise to go out with me again. Whaaaaat?! You can’t blame me for trying! You’re really cute.”

So I’m flattered and it was actually kind of nice. And if I’m honest I can admit that I’d like it to happen again.

Running Everyday

My goal for May is simple and straightforward: Run everyday.

No distance or speed goals, just a push towards practicing every single day. This is the first step in a larger goal I’m setting for the end of July: to run from my house to Kuliouou (koo-lee-oh-oh), up the ridge trail, back down and home. That will be a total distance of 10 miles with an elevation gain of 2,000 feet.

But today I’ll just run around the neighborhood. So without further ado…

The Hours That Change Our Lives

I guess it was his insistence that we are all the same that struck me most because for some inexplicable reason, by the end, I actually believed him. That’s how good he is.

He emphasized it over and over as he spoke. “I want you to understand that when I look at you, I see my sisters and my brothers. We are not different.” Most of us were younger, some a little older, different countries, religions, language barriers; but still all the same. “I am no different than you.”

Collectively we thought Yah, sure, we’re all the same as you… You who tells us the real destroyer of our inner peace is fear and distrust. You who says things like Reduce the gap between reality and appearance. You who wrote the sentence When you live your life truthfully, then you can act transparently.

But he backed up his declaration with a story about that time, years ago, when he was on a long car trip across the U.S. The group stopped at a wealthy family’s home for a decadent lunch. Sprawling greens, a pool, fancy cars, the mansion and its inhabitants dripping in riches. He excused himself to the bathroom and did something none of us would ever expect him to do. He peaked inside their medicine cabinet.

After all, the dude is just a dude.

And then he giggled. “Hee hee! Maybe that was illegal!” The cutest, sweetest, most delightfully disarming giggle emanateded from his belly. “I did not have permission!” Ha ha!

When he finished laughing he got slightly more serious. The medicine cabinet had been lined with anti-depressants. Pointing his finger out towards us he said in his wacky old-Asian-man-who’s-been-living-in-India-since-1959-and-also-sounds-a-little-like-Yoda voice,

“You see from that, money does not make us happy.”

I didn’t expect him to remind me so much of my grandmother.

I didn’t expect him to intentionally crack up the front row with his maroon Velcro old man visor and transition tint sunglasses.

I couldn’t have fully believed he would wear absolutely no trace of persecution or scorn.

Completely humbled yet so completely included, my afternoon soaking up the love of His Holiness The 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet ranks high on my list of Time Best Spent.

Inspiration Everywhere

Call me an asshole if you will, it is certainly warranted in this case, but I had gone ahead and made the blanket assumption that all ultra runners are A) freaks of nature, B) total spazzes and C) weird and annoying. Luckily the book got me googling the ol’ interwebs and I stumbled across this guy*:

Anton Krupicka, ultra runner extraordinaire, winner of many of the longest and most grueling races of all time. On top of running up to 180 miles each week, the dude summits a mountain almost daily. Allow me to repeat that for necessary emphasis… he runs up a mountain just about EVERY SINGLE DAY! Then he turns around and runs back down and home as if it were nothing.

At first I figured I just liked him for his stupidly hot body, his flowy Jesus locks and the flannel-shirt-wearin’/livin’-in-Boulder-Colorado-all-mountain-man-like life he’s got going on. (We all know how lonely for male company I’ve been.) But the more Youtube videos I checked out the more I realized I like him because he’s mellow and authentic. It’s simple really, he seems to have no choice but to run, so he runs. It brings him joy.

His blog lists all the races he’s competed in. While he has plenty of impressive wins, he’s also got a bunch of DNF’s – as in Did Not Finish. So here is a man who can shatter records running non-stop for more than 15 hours at a time, somehow keeping it modest and real. That’s something I can definitely dig!

Most people look at him and think he’s an oddity. They could never do what he does and he’s going to break himself in the process anyway. But I gotta tell ya, there is something about watching him run that makes me believe we are all capable of the same thing. It’s not so much physical ability as it is mental. Mind over matter. There are things we are simply born capable of. It’s up to us to decide to make it all happen.

It brought me right back to my juice fast. Just like I had to believe I could go 40 days without food, he has to believe he can run 100 miles without stopping. That can be a conscious choice if we want it to be!

This man is truly inspiring. Because of him I ran four miles on back-to-back days and I can’t wait to do more. Thanks for being awesome Anton!

Check him out!

*I did not take this picture, nor do I know who did. Just found it on the web.

Read This Book

Easter starts at 6:00 am at my new house. I live in a detached cottage on a family’s property in Wailupe Valley, nestled between mountain ridges, a few blocks from the ocean. Hawaii is dotted with these types of abodes, they’re called ohana units. Ohana being the Hawaiian word for family.

My new landlords have taken me in like no others. They are a family of four: stay-at-home-mom, mostly-stay-at-home-dad, stunningly beautiful 4-year old girl and ridiculously adorable 2-year old boy. They bring me eggs from their ranch on the North Shore. The yard is fenced in and they insist on letting the dogs chill outside all day while I’m at work. I love them.

Anyway the whole point of this ramble is that I expected to feel really tired this morning considering last night I stayed up reading well past 2:00 am. One hundred twenty five pages into Born To Run I cannot put it down. But even though I was woken up by The World’s Cutest Family Egg Hunt a mere four hours after I fell asleep, I feel great. I’m cross-legged on the couch diving back into the book with no desire to come up for air until I’m finished.

Family and friends have been arriving, dressed to the nines in their best pastels, for hours. The dogs are in heaven from all the attention and I just heard someone yell, “Banjo came in!” The family loves him so much they let him hang out on their couch, but it’s crowded in there this morning and before long he’s pushed out the back door. He zooms around the house at top speed to tackle Tobi by the pool in the front yard.

I will come up for air because I’m lucky and I get to spend Easter brunch with my new group of girlfriends, but for the next hour it’s just me, Chris McDougall and his crazy cast of characters.

If you’re a runner, and at least a handful of you are, then you have to read this book. If you like adventure stories and history or just good writing, you have to read this book. And if you’re my dad, you’ll get to crack open my copy while you lounge on the deck of your Diamond Head vacation rental when you come visit me in two weeks. Lucky you!

But seriously folks, read this book.