Malibu International Half Marathon, Malibu, California, November 13, 2011

Race Number 44
 The Smutty, Trashy Romance Novel Version

It was a warm, fall morning on the beach at Malibu.  Brad (Pitt) looked at Angelina with disdain.  He knew the day had arrived that would certainly torment his soul for weeks. Mikie Marathoner was coming to Malibu to run in the Malibu International Half Marathon and Angelina had not been herself since she found out that Mikie was going to be running past their home, within ear shot and of course, within her vision to gaze on the man that had captured her heart so many years ago.  Brad was aware of the attraction and was insanely jealous of Mikie, for he knew he was a “7” compared to the perfect “10” that Angelina was infatuated with.  It attacked his heart and mind like an explosive leprosy.

Mikie was distracted too.  He had trained poorly for this race and felt he might create havoc for his body if he was not careful.  He was running at sea level, always a special benefit coming to the coast, yet he had visions of “Lips” waving to him, with forlorn eyes, knowing she COULD have had a life making a difference instead of “play acting” people who had made a difference.  Adding to Brad's torment was Brad's embarrassment that he had little workable knowledge, compared to Mikie, particularly of the Periodic Table, as he had watched Angie and Mikie chuckle one evening, over protein smoothies, comparing their shared knowledge of atomic numbers and the mistranslated myths of a stone-age desert nomad tribes.  Brad was no match when it came to intellect (I think he may have attended USC for a period of time, thus the defects in his intelligence)  and Mikie’s presence magnified that fact. It might be surmised that NO intelligent thought had really EVER crossed Brad’s mind in the last 15 years (very similar to Bono, who loves to get in front of the camera, with shaded glasses, and pontificate on his broad knowledge of absolutely nothing).  Therefore, Mikie would be the last person to introduce Brad to the seamy subculture of real THOUGHT!

Mikie started the race running on the beautiful cliffs lining the undeveloped coastline near Point Mugu. Mikie took in the beauty of the land and sea until mile 8 where he came to civilization and the live seafood market, Neptune’s Net, then crossing the famous surf spot of County Line where he had surfed as a young high school student as he ventured on a “Surfing Safari” up the LA County coast one long summer week in 1967. It was here that Mikie came to the first of the small rollers which would challenge him to the end. Only the thoughts of Angelina's supple face (and those lips, of course) kept him moving towards the finish line.  Would Angelina escape the grasp of Brad to meet Mikie at the finish line?  Mikie was motivated to quicken his step to find out.

The final six miles rolled along the coast past the north Malibu mansions.  It was here that Mikie’s heart yearned to stop and visit Angelina.  Yet, the final mile beckoned him and took him across the bluffs where he would pass the Malibu sign and drop downhill past the Trancas Market and into the Zuma Beach finish line.  As Mikie entered the last few hundred yards, he looked up and there she was…….. Angelina waiting for him…. tears running down her face as Mikie finished the race to Malibu!  

Mikie lunged towards Angelina as he crossed the finish line only to embrace a cardboard cutout of her from her last film, The Tourist.  He noticed that the tears were but condensation from the sea air, and certainly not the tears he imagined.  Brad had been successful in keeping Angie from one last interaction with Mikie.

Mikie slowly walked from the finish line to the water’s edge where he cooled his legs in the cold 59 degree surf.  He looked beyond the horizon and considered, "What if…..”   It was at that very moment that a rogue four foot wave hit Mikie square in the face and body and Mikie was drawn out to sea to never be heard from again (A fitting end to a trashy romance novel).

Publisher's note: We are in negotiations with Mikie to publish more of his smutty novel series after he runs races 45 and 46 in Allen, Texas on December 31^st and January 1^st.  (Yep, Mikie the Idiot is going to run two half marathons, back-to-back…… Therefore, you will have after-hangover reading to consider in the new year..... aren't you lucky). 

May your anticipation be like the warm air of a rising souffle' as you await the future tastings of the adventures of Mikie Marathoner.

Prayer List: Miles 1-3:  Cameron Munier had back surgery on his S1 disc and his L4/5 on Wednesday and is recovering.  Miles 4-6: Morgan Munier started a new job as the Facility Manager at Crown Pointe Academy in Westminster, CO and loves it.  Miles 7-9: Randy and Holly Phillips as they move to Austin, TX to lead a business venture.  Miles 10-13:  Mona Grant’s brother, Mike as he waits for a new heart as a transplant recipient.  

Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon, Georgetown, Colorado, August 13, 2011

Race Number 43

As I started today’s race in Georgetown, Colorado at 8,500 feet above sea level, I imagined my trek to Idaho Springs (at 7,400 feet) being heralded by some critic of my blog as a "run of utmost urgency and importance in a mirror universe.” A mirror universe? Do they exist? Read on to find out…..

I started this race with more anticipation than normal. I felt as if I was really supposed to “RACE” someone or something today. It seemed so mystical.  I, not knowing about these areas of sophistication, merely accepted the feeling as having to do with the amount of oatmeal, banana and honey that I consumed two hours prior.

Yet, the first mile out, it became very evident to me that I WAS running and competing against someone….. the mystical character was a FEMALE, most likely many years my senior, as she SPEED-WALKED past me. Granted, I am still recovering from back surgery and have a sore right knee, but give me a break, I could not allow this “mirrored” universe to unfold in the form of a SPEED-WALKER passing Mikie Marathoner!!!

I generally react adversely to ultimatums, especially ones that challenge my manhood. It is said that goodwill and cheer will cause your heart to swell to three times its normal size (only to explode minutes later all over your respiratory system), and you need to "bless" that which may be challenging you.  But I would have nothing to do with this “goodwill, cheer and blessing” garbage by acknowledging this woman’s apparent abilities to WALK faster than I RUN. I was not going to be embarrassed by her as she tried moving further ahead of me while we were headed down the winding frontage road!

So, I started to run harder during miles 3-6. I sensed I was exerting myself beyond my preparation. What the heck was I doing? No answer to that question really satisfies any reasonable curiosity other than the fact that I am VERY competitive and (oh, yes, I have yet another weakness, not astonishingly remarked on by my colleagues, family and friends) …….I AM VERY STUBBORN.

Usually, these long races refresh, rather than tire me (ok, I am lying). Yet, refreshment was not on the menu as another complication appeared during mile 7.  “Chaffing,” per Webster’s Dictionary, is a transitive verb, meaning to irritate, to rub so as to wear away or to VEX. Well, I will not entertain you with the location of the vexing, but all I could do was recount my 4:00am preparation ritual and realized that I had forgotten to applying anti-vexing lotion to parts of my body that tend to get vexed during vexing competitions with vexing speed-walkers. I will not be vexed by this problem EVER again as I will place my anti-vexing cream in a place that will not allow me to forget to use it. Maybe duct taping it to a leg or arm prior to going to bed.

Sadly, by the tenth mile out, I was rapidly decomposing. I reflected on short phrases to get me through my pain, for example, “No one enjoys the mountain climb. It’s getting there that matters.” Too simple and stupid a thought, quite frankly, especially as I experienced much of this race in adventuresome agony.

I finished behind the speed walker. In a mirrored universe, I would have beaten her (meaning, of course, that I would have finished before her). So….. I really do want to believe there is a mirror universe that allows men of stature (as myself, of course) to succeed without ANY failure…… whatsoever! I think that so-called mirror universe is called Heaven. I am very sore in body, mind and spirit and wish I was there right now!

I guess I will have to settle for some medication (the prescribed type) a shower and a nap. Oh, thank heaven……… anyway!

Prayer List:  Miles 1-3: Cameron Munier, as he starts his career as a Deputy District Attorney in the Adams/Broomfield Counties of Colorado.  Miles 4-5: Janelle Bratten’s mom who is declining in health and is now in an assisted care facility. Miles 6-7: The Christianssen’s who own and operate Impact Sports Medicine and will be expanding. Wonderful, caring family!! Miles 8-10: Mandy James, JA 6th grader: Mandy was diagnosed with Scoliosis in 2007. She had corrective surgery a couple of weeks ago and is doing well. Miles 11-13: Connie Meadows, as she seeks new employment that will bless her!

The Redline 13.1, Longmont, Colorado, July 16, 2011

Race Number 42 (and I had a third place finish in the 60+ age bracket!!)

Like others, I experienced athletic success early in life. Unlike others, my successes happened infrequently and without my help. My accomplishments were always unexpected. In fact, most of the truly magical ESPN type sports moments in my life have come not because of me, but in spite of me. Yet, it is the human way to exert oneself, every now and again, in eccentric enterprises and I guess this may help you understand why I am so insanely stubborn about completely at least 50 half marathons. I suppose I am trying to make up for years of mediocre performances and then gloating about it in a self-indulgent blog (which usually puts a soft touch on the experience, thus a little parachute for my self-esteem when I finish towards the rear of the pack, these days).

We all have dreams and ambitions, though few of us ever become all that we could be (unless you were in the Army, of course.... and certainly not any of the other services ;-). We all fight a silent war of some sort. Those that watch us marathoners and half marathoners only see the act of running, but as anyone on the course can tell you, there is a powerful, intricate conflict underway. William James had said, “War is, in short, a permanent human obligation.” We long distance runners fight this war against the most difficult of enemies; ones self.

And, as with war, comes misery and suffering. War is hell, and long distant running is nothing short of war. Today’s race in Longmont kept that war raging in my soul, to keep moving forward, to stay the course in the face of some pretty significant pain in my thighs, feet and lower back AND 80 HEAT!! I may be asking more of myself than is reasonable, but, as I noted in the first paragraph, my successes have been few, so I NEED to do the unthinkable, to endure the hardship (along with 400 other runners), all in the name of accomplishing an endeavor I deem noble and worthwhile at this point in my life. 

By mile 10, I was staggering haplessly, fighting with all my might to remain steadfast and fluid. I think video of miles 10-13 could have made people laugh on “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Yet in the midst of the staggering, there was honor, I suppose. I think I have learned, again, what it means to stand resolute for what you believe in, whilst every shred of your material being is being tested to the limit (I am a hurting puppy as I write this). With this struggle comes renewal. Running these races is not about running anymore, it is about a form of temporal salvation for me (and I am certainly not diminishing my spiritual salvation through Jesus Christ).

It is kind of obvious that my physical efforts of the past and those in the future, may not result in many trophies for my office (except for the surprise today in a small field of runners), but my soul wins every time.

Be steadfast at whatever your heart calls you to my friends. Blessings to each of you as you answer your personal call!


Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Jenny Granholm, Amanda Munier's mother.  Diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.  An avid adventurist, Jenny is not taking this laying down!!!  Miles 4-6:  For a marriage, (I will not disclose, of course), that is dissolving asking God for His peace and comfort for all involved.   Miles 7-9: The Carlson family (Tim, Kelly-who ran the race today, Tyler and Peter.... an incredible family whom I admire very much. Kelly use to try to run me over in the parking lot at JA. Miles 10-13: Selfishly, I prayed for myself as I went out pretty fast in this race for 9 miles (back felt good) and then really started to struggle the last four miles. I am really not in great running shape.

"Slacker" Half Marathon, Loveland Ski Area (10,630ft) to Georgetown, Colorado (8,400ft) June 24, 2011

Race Number 41

Mikie’s Top Ten Reasons for Running the Slacker Half Marathon:
Number 10) To show off my abs of steel hoping everyone could imagine what is under the medium layer of stubborn fat that shields the spectacle.

Number 9) I heard this race guaranteed a wonderful running experience for people of Italian, Mexican and English decent, which really sucks, as I am Lebanese.

Number 8) I had dreamt that something deep inside of me would re-awaken during this race. I did not suspect that the awakening would occur sitting in the port-a-potty.

Number 7) After weeks of preparation and anticipation, my plan to run this race AND escape from the psychiatric hospital attendees worked better than I thought, even with the straight jacket negating my arm movements and causing me to look like a galloping sausage.

Number 6) I was hoping that the bizarre chain of existential mishaps that I experienced this week, which resulted in my sixth viewing of the inspirational running movie, "Chariots of Fire," would cause me to be recruited for the Olympic team.

Number 5) While hard and fast rules of running in these half marathons are oftentimes overly simplistic, I could not argue with the logic that whoever smelt it, most likely also dealt it.

Number 4) Even though the technical details are still being worked out, Hollywood executives have promised that the filming of my entire hilarious, heartwarming and inspiring race would soon be released as a new documentary on forms of lunacy and will be sponsored by Adult Depends.

Number 3) I was hopeful that I would experience my normal Pavlovian response in this race when the mere mention of “gel packets” caused me to instantly salivate, grunt and claw for the tangerine flavor packs at the water stations.

Number 2) Other runners, in my age bracket, would not discover the secret ingredient to my homemade energy bars (distributed, by me, prior to the race), and, would in turn, lack the necessary motor functions to speak and run, thus allowing me to place high in my age bracket.

And the NUMBER ONE REASON I RAN IN THE SLACKER HALF MARATHON WAS...................

I did not want to spend the rest of my life wondering “what if?” I ran this race in a pink tutu and orange tights. No pictures were taken as this was a very private and cathartic moment for me.

Running at high altitude, going downhill or not, is really difficult.  I felt like I was gasping for every breath.  Yet, I finished. The legs are sore and the back held up.  The tutu kept my legs from getting burnt. ;-)


Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Justin and Reilly Watanabe will be married on July 1st by yours truly. Justin spent all his years at JA, works there, and is studying to enter law enforcement. Miles 4-6: Robin Munier as she heals after having her left knee replaced. Miles 7-9: Dina Walton, League Board Member, recovering from cancer surgery and treatments. Miles 10-13: Five employees at JA, leaving to participate in new educational endeavors.

Colfax Half Marathon, May 15, 2011, Denver, Colorado

It was COLD!

Race Number 40
If speed in these half marathons is the only objective, then running these races is, well, perverse. I ran this one unhurried, again, with similar reasoning as the last one. Yet, I entered today’s race with a since of trepidation. My back decided to start acting up a few days ago. There was no happiness on the left side. It felt like it was “nature’s” version of Beirut.

It certainly appears I am a practitioner of paradoxical behavior which is always frustrating to my family and close friends. Running on a healing back is certainly paradoxical. But, I have been able to convince myself that making these commitments and decisions at trying to be successful at the things I try to do, gains me special favor with Aries (Greek god of war, manly courage, and civil order). Or………maybe not.

I chugged along today, in cold, moist weather knowing I was running with many of my colleagues from the League of Charter Schools as we exercised (pun intended) a fundraising opportunity for our advocacy fund through “Chugging for Charters” (http://www.active.com/donate/coloradoleague, if you might be interested in donating to the cause). If my Guardian Angel had suddenly---indulgently----appeared, I think he/she would have been proud of our/my efforts but would then take me to the wood shed and slap some sense into me. It was a difficult race for me as I had not trained well. Sucking cold air is a miserable experience, as well, but we succeeded.

I ran at the rear of the pack (a humbling experience for me), nonetheless in that loneliness I still felt a bond with the 8,500 runners who ran this race. It is highly attenuated, by comparison, with the bond that binds men in combat, but it is there, as the element of combat is there. Today, I survived to run another day. Number 41, here I come!

Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Julie Michael, a friend from JA days. I prayed for peace and joy as she has experienced some significant levels of trauma in the last month or so. Miles: 4-5: The graduating 6th grade class at Jefferson Academy. Miles 6-7: Mr. Mike Nolan, the Principal of Jefferson Academy as he ends his first year of what I suspect to be many very special years for him. Miles 8-10: Tom Hensey, father of my dear friend, Holly. Tom faces some difficult decisions related to prostate cancer. Miles 11-13: For our Charter Schools in our state as they face another year of budget cuts.

Sea Side Half Marathon, Long Beach, California, March 27, 2011

Race Number “39”

Jack Benny, recognized as one of the leading American entertainers of the 20th century, played the role of the comic penny-pinching miser, insisting on remaining 39 years old, on stage, despite his actual age. I watched Mr. Benny as a young boy, thinking 39 was VERY old and hoping I would progress to that age without misfortune. Mr. Benny made such a big deal about not surpassing that epoch landmark it made me think that any age past that magic 39 must represent the near end of life. Yet, here I was, at age 61, running my “39th” half marathon after two back surgeries, a painful steroid injection, and a tough ¾ of a year on rehab (not to mention a hodgepodge of medications and vitamin supplements). Mr. Benny quipped, “Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.” I think he was correct, although there have been some physical reality checks for me along the way.

I “jogged” the Seaside Half Marathon, in Long Beach California today, being very careful that my foot strikes did not jar my back too much. I reduced those strikes upon the terra firma from 180 per minute (or an average 25,200 per race) to 160 although my slower pace increased my total strikes by 14% for this race, so all I gained was a more leisurely, less impacting pace. Frankly, I did not think I deserved the finisher medal that was hung around my neck. On the other hand, I have a weakened spine and I don't deserve that either. (see personal note below)


Notwithstanding, the race this morning, could have been seen as routine, but only in the sense in which that word can be used when running thirteen miles on black and convoluted pavement. Looked at another way, I did not meet my maker or exhibit the fleet feet of Mercury; ergo, it was routine. It was a low-key rebirth of believing I could possibly attain my goal of 100 half marathons…. IF I live to 106 years old.

The race was produced and staged by a fella by the name of Charlie Alewine. Charlie produces many small races throughout the SoCal area and limits entries to 50 runners between the half and full marathons. He does a great job. It is like running with a running club (which I have not had occasion to do because I am an introverted perfectionist who might not be able to keep up, thus I run alone…. with my thoughts and pain). We ran in a beautiful part of Long Beach, along one of the bays in a light rain that kept me cool. I will run more Charlie Races if I get the opportunity. Great course! My legs hung in there and my lungs and heart loved pumping at sea level. The ocean air cleansed me. Running by the Pacific made my first race in eight months, special.  The Colfax Half, in May, is my next venture.

A final personal note: In January, I met with my rehab doctor and went through a half hour of muscle stress testing, bending, and stretching while I waxed on as to how important it was for me to continue my present way of life……then, Dr. Munson sort of took the floor and commented on my surfing and my running. She pitched that 50 half marathons “may” be ok (“and certainly not 100”) BUT surfing is especially something I should not do anymore due to the “wipe outs” and thrashing that come with almost every wave. You can imagine the piercing of my heart and the bloodletting that occurred in the car after I left the appointment and sat, stunned, in the parking garage for 15 minutes. There is nothing quite like the sense of utter irretrievability one experiences on losing the opportunity to exercise a passion. I have always (since 6th grade) run in a mano to mano, adversary relationship with the ocean. Riding and sailing the surf and the ocean has been a passion for me (I once helped sail, over a three week ordeal, a 50ft racing sloop from Hawaii to California in 10-12 foot breaking swells…not a pleasure cruise, that is for sure). Now I “may” be relegated to walking the beach experiencing the scent of the ocean….. which is a pleasurable experience difficult to surpass, UNLESS you elect to reminisce about your days on a surf board, a boogie board or a racing sloop…….then it feels like you have been thrown into prison. I am not at peace with this declaration to “stop” right now. I am not sure what to do.

I often suffer from my somewhat rooted pessimism, and no doubt I reason that since it is not written in the laws of this country or of my God that I MUST set out and run a race for 13.1 miles or that I MUST surf the California coast, my doing so is at least, partly an act of thoughtlessness. I suppose, I deserve the suffering that occurs after the folly. My gut tells me I should continue the recklessness. With that thought, I think I am going to take a couple of Percocet, go get my scheduled massage, wiggle into my wet suit and head to the beach with my board and contemplate whether I should enter the surf……which, BTW, is running 3-4 feet on a cold north swell..... pretty irresistible.

I sure hope I do not get stuck on number 39, like Mr. Benny. Be well, my friends!

Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Shelby Griffin, three year old recovering from surgery. Miles 4-6: Jack Johnson, a new baby boy born to my colleague, Jeff Johnson. Miles 7-9: Mira Turnbull, born nearly three months pre-mature but doing well at Rose Medical Center in Denver. Miles 10-13: Dave Eason, my lifelong buddy in California as he continues to recover from a mild heart attack (if there is anything "mild" about a heart attack).