MY SLICE OF PARADISE

The crickets are chirping and the night air is beginning to cool. Shadows are longer, and darkness sets in a little earlier. Labor Day is a week away. The summer is quickly fading.

Officially, statistically, the summer of 2013 ranks as the worst of my adult running career. Since tearing two hamstring tendons in my left leg on May 7, just three weeks after running a time of 3:04 at the 2013 Boston Marathon, I have run less miles, and at a dramatically slower pace than in any of the past 36 summers. Recovery has been slow and painful. It has been frustrating and humiliating. I have stopped and walked. I have cursed so loudly that it has echoed through the anthracite coal beds that lie beneath the earth in the mountain behind my house. After a particularly slow and painful workout, seeking solace in the completion of lawn chores, I hurled the weed whacker, javelin-style across the lawn.

We runners are, indeed, bipolar. A personal best training run or race renders us euphoric, full of energy and hope, eager to lace up the shoes and get out there on the road again. A failed workout or race, on the other hand, drives us into an irritable state of depression, toxic to all with whom we interact.

Recovering from an injury is like awakening from a Rip Van Winkle-like sleep. The running world has passed you by. You have reverted back to infancy in a world of adults. You question many things. Will I ever be able to come back? Why am I doing this? Is it worth it? Am I driving those around me crazy with my complaining? (We all know the answer to that one!)

So, although most of us love this sport because of the independence it affords us, when desperate times descend upon our running lives, our sanity, indeed, our cure, lies with the support that is around us.

As I writhed in pain, on a sidewalk a half mile from my home, two hamstrings rolled up like window shades, it was my wife, Crissy, and my running partner, Randy Haas, who scooped me up and got me into my car, as I was unable to apply any pressure on my leg. The symbolism of that event cannot be overstated. My wife has been there for me throughout my irritable, frustrating rants. Her support, encouragement, and her incredible ability to make me laugh, have led me through this dark period in my training life.

In my book, "Running Shorts," many of you have read about the 'Cast of Characters.' The aforementioned Randy Haas, his wife, Lisa, Eric Anchorstar, and his wife, Diedre, John and Sue Ausherman, and Mike Dicello, have offered their wealth of running knowledge in an effort to help a fallen training partner.

My children have been terrific, and, as I struggled to, literally, get back on my feet, my dogs, Ruby and Dixie, followed me as we explored our mountain trails.

The vegetable garden was tended religiously, and the yield has been tremendous. My wife and I experienced an electric Dropkick Murphys concert, culminating with an embrace from Ken Casey. We lounged on the crystal sand in Punta Cana, entertained 75 guests at a summer party on our deck in July, and visited my daughter, Megan, in Charleston, earlier this month.

Appreciate every moment we have. Thank those who, in their own way, allow us to do what we do. To be able to slip on a pair of shoes and enjoy the world as we do is truly a gift.

The adversity of the summer of 2013 has allowed me to appreciate everything I have. My father used to say, "What's worth having is worth working for." More than ever, I'm thankful for all I have, and the people in my life.

Enjoy and appreciate, as all of us possess a slice of paradise.

SUNDAY SERMON

Congratulations to all of you.

After you complete today's workout, pat yourself on the back. Congratulate yourself, and your training partners, on a job well done. If you participated in a race today, consider yourself elite. You ARE elite. It doesn't matter if you finished first or last, you are among a select, special group of individuals. Age, ability, or body type is irrelevant. You deserve a shout out. You are indeed, a member of an elite minority. You see, you have taken control. You have taken on the scourge that is the 21st century. You have accepted the challenge, and you are winning. You are, and you will continue to be, a winner.

This blog goes out to folks around the world, and I do not possess statistics from other countries, but, statistically, we Americans are killing ourselves!

A headline in yesterday's local newspaper read, "Adult obesity rate holding steady: Americans still too overweight, study says."

The article, based on the latest annual report from the Trust for America's Health and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, was actually an optimistic one, given the fact that Americans haven't gotten fatter in the past year. However, the average American adult is now 24 pounds heavier than in 1960!

Young people today may be the first generation to live sicker and die earlier than their parents did.

Obesity is defined as having a body mass index of 30 or more, while a BMI of 25 to 29.9 is classified as overweight, according to the CDC. More than two-thirds of American adults are overweight or obese.

The consequences are, and if unchanged, will be, murderous to Americans in the coming years. Increased risk of heart disease, Type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, and a plethora of problems face us, taxing an already overworked health care system.

In all 50 states, at least 20 percent of the population is overweight, and in 41 of the states, 25 percent, yes, one-quarter of the population is overweight.

So, congratulations to all of you. If you're reading this blog, you are ambassadors for good health, a group folks who refuse to be sucked into the unhealthy pit of modern living.

In my book, "Running Shorts," I wrote a kind of tongue-in-cheek chapter, entitled, 'Eat less, exercise more.' Let's face it. It's really not that complicated. Simply...eat less, and exercise more. You all have, obviously, gotten the concept.

Moderate!

One cheeseburger won't kill you. A cheeseburger a night might.

Eat food, not products. If it's colorful, it's good. Fruits and vegetables are super foods.

Ok, sorry. I know I'm preaching to the choir.

We are runners, so we tend to be a bit narcissistic. Today, I'm challenging you to go beyond yourselves. Mother Teresa once said she would treat "one leper at a time." Each of you need to spread the gospel of healthy living to one person at a time.

Talk to a coworker. Tell them how good you feel after turning in a good workout. Show that person how you've cinched your belt in a couple of notches or how you've gone down a couple of dress sizes. Spread the gospel of running to people of all ages. Volunteer to coach track or cross country at a local high school or junior high school. Organize a race, or start a youth track league. Show the kids how cool it is to run, and how they can actually exercise something more than their thumbs.

A coworker of mine is in his early 30s. He was a fine high school athlete, who let himself lapse into obesity. At 6 foot, he tipped the scales at 250 pounds. He began to ask me about running, and he slowly began the journey, coupled with a better diet. Within 8 months, he had dropped nearly 100 pounds, and had nailed a 5K race in 24 minutes, earning an age-group award. When he showed me his medal, it was as satisfying to me as any award I've earned in my career.

A week before Christmas last year, a group of us, pictured below, gathered in my driveway for our annual 'Christmas Run.' A three-mile jaunt through the streets of my hometown, Pottsville, Pennsylvania. Runners, old and young, we shared the common bond we all share.

I'm convinced that it won't be the government, it won't be the schools, rather, it will be us, through our example, who will reverse America's obesity epidemic.

Consider this my Sunday morning sermon. Take what you have done for yourselves and guide others on the road to fitness. All of us will benefits from your efforts.

SOUTHERN DRAW

For most folks, here in my corner of the planet, northeast Pennsylvania, summertime means vacationing at the "shore." The "shore" consists of various beaches along the New Jersey coastline, from Atlantic City to Cape May.

My family didn't travel much when I was young, and my first visit to the Jersey shore didn't occur until I was 16-years old. Although I enjoyed the beach, I felt an attraction to the sea and the sand in a more southerly climate.

In 1990, I planned my first trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. For the past 24 years, not a summer has gone by without a trip to the Palmetto State.

During the summer of 1992, on a family trip to Myrtle Beach, I ran into a rival runner. He and I had battled in numerous road races. If we competed against each other fifty times, we each prevailed twenty five times. Our rivalry extended from the Boston Marathon to the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler in Washington, D.C. John Ausherman, from Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, and I, had spoken only briefly after our races, but after a chance meeting at a tourist shopping area built over a swamp, called Barefoot Landing, our friendship developed. He and his family have become dearest friends with mine.

It just so happened that John and his family stayed in a condo about a quarter mile south of us on the beach. Soon, at 8:00 a.m. each morning, we met to run the 'Arcadian Loop,' a 7-mile course that went from the beach, through the Plantation Resort, and around the Arcadian Golf Course.

As a senior in high school, on a trip to Myrtle Beach, my oldest daughter, Kelly, decided she wanted to take a trip to Columbia, to visit the campus of the University of South Carolina. She eventually earned both her Bachelor and Master's degrees from USC.

Nearly two years ago, my youngest daughter, Megan, upon graduating from West Virginia University, decided to strike out on her own. She currently resides in Charleston, South Carolina.

Although most of our visits to South Carolina have been for pleasure, three years ago, my son took a bus to Parris Island, where Marine Corps boot camp was, I imagine, anything but a vacation. After we proudly viewed his graduation ceremony, my wife and I vacationed at the Isle of Palms.

There is little doubt, then, that this product of the Pennsylvania hills is drawn to the Low Country of the beautiful state of South Carolina.

There are many reasons, and here are a few.

The people: Warm, friendly, "How y'all doin'." For years, we rented a magnificent condo, a stone's throw from the ocean, from a woman who would allow us to stay a few extra days at no additional charge. We became like family, although we never met face-to-face. During a visit to my daughter for a South Carolina football game, a gentleman in a restaurant parking lot had car problems. I offered my jumper cables, and we got his car started. He was an aide to a South Carolina state senator. Because I helped him out, my daughter was hired as an intern for the senator.

The weather: My wife and I like it warm. We also like the ocean water to be warm. The Gulf Stream does that. Last week, the water at Isle of Palms was like bath water. In February 2012, I ran the Myrtle Beach Half Marathon, then went to the beach in 70-degree weather.

The food: An abundance of seafood, she-crab soup, rice, grown right down the road, and key lime pie. The oysters are magnificent.

Running: There are plenty of trails, not many hills, but I've had a lifetime of hills. Beaches are wide, not pitched, and the sand is firm. Beach running in South Carolina is a pleasure. Active running clubs in Myrtle Beach and Charleston, and just an overall attitude of fitness. Charleston's Cooper River Bridge Run is one of the country's biggest 10K races, and the Myrtle Beach Marathon is a first-class event.

The pace: Slower than the north, and that's just fine.

History: I could explore Charleston's history forever. The architecture and the rich history of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars is magnificent.

Since we returned from latest our trip to Charleston, the computer is burning up, as my wife searches for our dream home, which we hope will become a reality within a year or two. In her words, we have spent the first half of our lives looking oak and maple trees, it's time to spend the second half looking at palm trees.

 For us, South Carolina is the place.

                                                             ISLE OF PALMS, SC

THAT TIME OF YEAR

The crickets are chirping, and nights here in eastern Pennsylvania are beginning to cool. Oh, there's plenty of summer remaining, but, for the most part, the long stretches of blast-furnace temperatures are behind us, and the ideal training days of September lie ahead.

It is time for marathon training.

The successes or failures recorded in October and November, prime marathon season, will be determined in the next few weeks. If you plan to run a marathon in early October, you have probably begun your training. For November marathons, the training period is rapidly approaching.

Torn hamstring tendons have sidelined me from marathon participation this fall, but I am fortunate to have been invited to serve as a guest speaker at the Twin Cities Marathon Expo, on October 4 and 5, at the Atlantic City Marathon Expo, on October 11 and 12, and at the Niagara Falls International Marathon's pasta dinner on October 26. Stop by and say hello if you are running and of these fine marathons.

A marathon can be a brutal, unforgiving race. Whether you are in it to finish, or to achieve a specific time, proper preparation will ensure success.

There are no shortcuts, and there is no fooling the marathon. I've run 54 of them, and my experience tells me that there is one essential component: the long run. Now, you may say, "Of course, that's the key." But here's the secret ingredient: a 'quality' long run.

I have seen many runners who set lofty marathon goals, only to have them dashed.

"What are you shooting for?"

"A 3:15"

That's approximately 7:30 per mile.

"How many 20-milers have you done?"

"Two."

"What was your pace.?"

"Around 8:15 a mile."

It ain't gonna happen!!!

To achieve success, a minimum of three 20-milers should be completed. Five 20-milers are an ideal number.

In the above example, if you're shooting for a 7:30 pace for 26 miles, you should be able to run an 8:00 pace for a 20-mile training run. Simply 'completing' the long run will offer limited success. The long run should serve as a race simulation. If you intend to run a hilly marathon, train on hills. Remember, you're simulating race conditions.

Keep yourself fresh. Run easy, or take the day off before your 20-miles. Oh, and by the way, I don't suggest running more than 22 miles in training. Our bodies only have so many 20+ runs in them.

Weekends are usually when most of us complete out 20-milers, so, in the middle of the week, do something fast. I think mile intervals are great. Run 4 to 8x1 mile repeats, and run them FASTER than race pace.

During your marathon training period, don't run too many races. If the marathon is your ultimate goal, a long run over the weekend serves you better than a 5K race. About a month before the marathon, find a half marathon race. It can be an excellent tune up for the marathon.

Prepare properly, then taper properly. No long runs with0in two weeks of the race.

Be optimistic, but be realistic. If the wind is gusting at 35-miles per hour, or if the temperatures are in the 80s, you may have to modify your goal. There are plenty of marathons out there, so you WILL live to race another day.

Whether you choose a small, local marathon, or a big-city mega-race, approach the race by being well-prepared, with quality miles behind you, and your marathon will be a successful, enjoyable experience.

MINIMALIST

It's been a while since I have posted here.

Nearly three months ago, I suffered the worst injury of my 36-year running career, when I tore two hamstring tendons in my left leg. My rehabilitation period has been lengthy and painful. The road back is going to be difficult. I am now able to turn in 4 mile training runs, but they are difficult and slow. The hamstring seems to be healed, but strength is severely diminished, and fatigue sets in quickly. The 2013 racing season has been cancelled, but my goal is clear: return to the greatest race on the planet, for my 17th appearance, and to show solidarity with the finest spectators, in any sport, in the world. I WILL return to the Boston Marathon in 2014.

Anyhow, posting over the past several weeks would have consisted of a litany of complaints, sprinkled with a healthy dose of self-pity. We runners are truly bipolar, aren't we? A great workout or race renders us manic; while a failed one drives us into a deep depression. Throw an injury into the mix, and the Suicide Prevention Hotline phone number better be close by.

So, rather than bore you with my running woes, I have chosen to become a recluse, holed up in my Pennsylvania mountain hideaway, hobbling through workouts on the secluded trails behind my home, relying on my chief therapists: my wife and my two dogs.

Some women use "shopping therapy" to ease their woes. Folks eat and drink in order to drown sorrows. For most runners, though, buying new 'stuff' can be a real psychological boost.

Right around the time my leg decided to attempt to separate itself from my body, my Garmin Forerunner 230, the watch I had used for several years, expired. Given the fact that I was sidelined, then eventually limited to short training runs, I used my Nike App to get me through.

Last week, I decided it was time to buy. Clearly, the shoes I wore at the time of my injury were a jinx, so I ordered up a new pair. I also decided it was time for a new running watch.

The 21st century certainly has bombarded us with 'TMI,' too much information. Did you ever think you'd see the day when a former congressman and mayoral candidate would be sending pictures of his 'junk'...over and over again? And I still can't quite figure out why I need two remotes to operate my television.

The same goes for running watches. Frankly, I don't have to compare my workout with others. I'm ok if I don't know my exact altitude, and I really don't need a graphic illustration of my running route.

On Monday, the UPS guy delivered my new Garmin 10 watch. It is the perfect minimalist device. As I run, the display shows me my distance and time, highlighting each mile, with my pace for that mile. That's it! That's enough. When I stop the watch, it scrolls through the time, distance, average pace, and calories burned. It doesn't tell me what I should eat for dinner, and it doesn't congratulate me, and that's just fine. It cost around $110, and I love it. Minimal bells and whistles, with 'JEI,' just enough information. I still religiously record my workout, by hand, in my logbook, as I've done since 1976.

I'm not saying we should go back to the abacus, or the hand-held stopwatch, but, sometimes minimal is better.