What Happened Last Week on Mt. Rainier

Mt. Rainier, shot from out my window as we flew in to Seattle.

The pace was too fast. I couldn't breathe. I kept putting one foot in front of the other, careful not to catch my crampons on my boots and trip into a crevasse.  My heart was racing, it was still pitch black and we were a long way from the top. I wasn't ready for this. As I felt a wave of nausea coming on I took a deep pressure breath like they taught me. It has two parts, first a deep inhale filling your lungs, and then a fast sudden exhale- as if blowing out a candle. With each breath, the fresh new oxygen that filled my lungs kept the nausea and headache at bay. But how long could I keep this up? It was only a few hours into a very long night...

Three days earlier

We pulled into the RMI offices just after 2pm on a hot sunny Monday afternoon. We collected the rental gear we had ordered and checked in at our Wellspring cabin near the tiny town of Ashford. "Is there any place to buy groceries around here?" we asked the lady cleaning our cabin (who may have also been the owner.)
"You have two options, the Country Store just down the road or the gas station. I recommend the gas station, plus my sister works there." After grabbing some gatorades, ear plugs and a few other necessities for the hike we headed back to RMI for our orientation.

We were welcomed by Casey, our guide. He was extremely personable and had arms that looked liked they belonged on a gymnast. If that wasn't enough to set our minds at ease about the upcoming climb, the fact that he had summited Mt. Everest three times certainly didn't hurt. We sat down on comfy leather couches (perhaps the last time I would be really comfortable in the next three days) and after brief introductions he started a slideshow to explain what we could expect the next few days.

Notice the overstuffed leather couches.
Nothing like the rest of the trek.

"Tomorrow we head up to Paradise to train on a snow field. Bring your crampons, ice axe, helmet and all your gear except for your sleeping bag and your cold weather gear." It would be a dress rehearsal for the actual hike that would begin Wednesday. The hike Wednesday, he explained, would be done with our 40 pound packs and would begin with a 2.2 mile hike on dry trails until we reached the snow and ice fields that we would trudge up for the next 2.3 miles to Camp Muir where we would spend the night. Then the real challenge would begin.

I expected the dress rehearsal to be pretty straight forward. Our packs were only 25 pounds, we were only hiking for an hour and we were still at pretty low altitude. We got our packs together, lined up in single file with Casey in front. And then it started.

Do you know what guide's pace is? Have you heard that term before?

It basically means, taking slow rest steps so that each time you front foot goes forward your back leg holds the weight while your front leg can "rest" for just a moment. Casey did not start at guide's pace. He took off. And we had to follow him. Eight of the nine of us were breathing hard as we followed, but we were keeping up. Dave, who was 71 years old with a sturdy frame, unfortunately couldn't keep up.


"Shouldn't we slow down for Dave?" I asked Casey, trying to appear as strong as possible, as if the pace was no problem at all for me.
"We need to test everyone in the group, to see if they are ready for tomorrow."
(So it's just a test, I thought to myself. Good thing we won't be going this fast on the real hike.)
We eventually reached the snow fields, that we would train on the for the next few hours. We practiced hiking with and without crampons on, we practiced the french step, which entails climbing up sideways with on leg crossing above the other. We practiced the duck step (no explanation needed). We practice the American step (Not to be left out, the Americans came up with a step that involves putting one food sideways and one foot straight up the mountain.)

Then we were all roped together. This is how it would be on the mountain. Four of us hiking together in a pact of mutual success or destruction. If one person slips, they yell "falling" and everyone else drops to a self arrest position with their ice axe firmly dug into the snow, helmet pushed into the snow, bottom in the air and legs straight so that the crampons have maximum pressure to dig into the snow and ice.

After a surprisingly exhausting afternoon, we headed back to Ashford for one more good night of sleep before the real trek began. Natalie and I went to bed early, but neither of us slept. The mattress was lumpy, but that wasn't the problem, there was just too much running through our minds. Finally, morning came and it was time for the real adventure to begin.

With our packs loaded, we
were ready to take on the mountain.

At our very first rest stop we were told to
re-apply sunblock. With bright sun and snow
all around us, glacier sunglasses and
copious amounts of sunblock were a must.

Starting with the first morning, this was no walk in the park. We always walked for at least 60 minutes, then took a fifteen minute break. The break was our only time to: drink, eat, apply sunscreen, relieve ourselves and rest. "Time to go," Casey signaled by putting his pack on. And I hadn't even had time to eat my Swedish Fish. Originally I had planned to bring a mixture of cliff bars and protein bars, but Casey strongly encouraged us to bring food the was easy to eat and would still be appetizing at high altitude. I can't imaging being so sick that Swedish Fish wouldn't sound good.

After that first rest stop I also switched from my sneakers to my hard plastic boots. We didn't put our crampons on yet, but we would be hiking the rest of the way through hard packed snow. After three more 60 minutes segments and three more too-short-to-rest breaks, with sweat pouring down my forehead and stinging my eyes we hobbled into Camp Muir where we removed our packs, unloaded our clothes and sleeping bags and headed into the bunkhouse to claim a place to sleep. Seventeen men and my wife Natalie in one small bunkhouse. Almost from the minute the place filled up, man stench and cursing filled the air. Sorry Natalie.

 On a positive note. We were able to get the top corner two bunks, which Natalie was able to choose as the token woman in the group. It had the most privacy and a small window. It was cool peering out above the clouds, but we didn't really have time to relax. We got out of our boots, prepared our sleeping bags, used hot water to prepare a quick re-hydrated dinner, got all of our gear in order and threw on eye masks and ear plugs to try and grab a few hours of sleep. The goal: fall asleep before others started snoring.

I took a few ibuprofens for my aches and pains and pretty quickly fell into a restless sleep. When I finally stirred enough to become completely awake, I took off my eye mask and couldn't see anything. It must have been 10pm or so. I tried to get back to sleep, not knowing for sure what time it was, but I couldn't keep my mind from racing with questions. How would my body respond to the altitude? What if I got nervous crossing a huge crevasse? What if I had to go to the bathroom during the hike and had to pack out my human waste in a blue bag? (That's a real thing) What if I stumbled and fell to my death, taking my entire group with me into an icy grave? You know, the usually stuff people think about when they can't sleep before climbing mountains.

Suddenly, the light flashed on in the bunkhouse.
"Time to get up, have breakfast, and get ready. You have one hour," Casey explained.
To be honest, I was a little relieved. I was getting pretty anxious, so it was time to start hiking. Walking out of the bunkhouse under a clear sky, no moon, and billions of stars is a moment I won't forget. I clicked on my headlamp and could see the reflection of tiny particles of snow in the air.
"My group at the bottom of the stairs," Casey requested. Natalie, Phil, and I would be in the lead group. At first I thought this meant that he trusted us to be first, then I realized it may have been because he was most worried about the three of us making it to the top.

We set off on the first section, which was pretty straight forward. We traversed the mountain on a long flat section that worked its way up the mountain until we reached a point where the trail turned to rocks and dirt. We coiled up the ropes ahead of us and walked through this section close together so that the ropes wouldn't catch on the medium sized boulders that ran across the trail. As we came around the corner at Cathedral Gap we hit the snow again and saw three hikers from another group sitting down taking break to the right of us. To the left of us, massive car sized blocks of ice hung off the Ingraham Glacier about 200 yards away from us.

"You guys may want to get moving," Casey mentioned to the three strangers taking a break, "11 people died at this spot in 1981." We moved quickly past. At one point we hiked up the crest of a hill, and on the left and right side were gaping crevasses. It was really dark though, probably a blessing, because it might have been terrifying to cross this area in the day light. Finally we reached our first break just after sixty minutes of hiking. A trail of light on the heads of hikers followed behind us. "We may have a longer break here," Casey explained. "Dave is turning back, so Stoney (one of the other guides) will have to return with him. We will have to rope one more person onto our group.

Now I know originally I had complained about breaks being too short, but this break took almost 30 minutes, and by the time we took off I was freezing. During the rest breaks we pulled out our heavy parkas, but I only had a medium sized parka and hadn't put on any other layers, so I was shivering when we pulled out of that rest stop. This worried meed a little because it was only 2am and we were going to go much higher and the temperature was going to get much lower. The upcoming stretch was the most dangerous of the entire climb. Disappointment Cleaver. It was very steep, mostly over rocks and scaling small sections of cliff.  Although we only hiked 60 minutes at a time for the rest of the trek, this section would be 90 minutes long without a break. They explained that taking a break anywhere along the Cleaver would be too dangerous. So, no rest breaks, in total darkness, scaling loose rocks in freezing weather. Awesome. In the orientation the day earlier I had asked Casey, "it this the crux (or the hardest part) of the hike?" He told us the hike with heavy packs we had just completed was the crux. (Turns out he just didn't want to scare us, the Cleaver was very challenging.)

"We need to shorten the ropes," Casey called out. Disappointment Cleaver is so much more dangerous that it required us to short rope, which means we shortened the length of the rope between climbers. This decreased the momentum someone could pick up if they slipped and fell, but it also kept us hiking almost in unison as we picked our way up through the Cleaver. The guides kept referring to it as simply "The Cleaver," I guess they didn't want to psyche us out by using the word disappointment over and over. With my ice axe in my uphill hand and my right hand reaching up for handholds I matched the pace of Natalie in front of me. I had probably done ten thousand squats and mountain climbers at CrossFit over the six months before. Suddenly they didn't seem so pointless.

Eventually we reached the top of the Cleaver. Time for another break. I immediately pulled out another layer, putting on my Gore Tex jacket, then my down coat next. As I took a large gulp of gatorade and choked down a peanut butter sandwich I had Phil and Natalie huddle in close to me for warmth. It was literally freezing, and I had been sweating for the last 90 minutes. The next group below us caught up in a few minutes but hiked right past us to find a good rest spot. "See you at high break," the other guide said.

"Just one more break after this, and then we reach the top?" I thought to myself. "I might just make it."  I was exhausted, but I could make it to one more break, couldn't I? I had underestimated the effect of the altitude on me though. It was time to get moving. "Everybody leave your parkas on," Casey warned us.

As we started hiking again, I was immediately exhausted. It felt like I hadn't taken a break at all. I was dizzy and as we walked along a flat section and I was having trouble walking straight. Phil was behind me, and I'm sure he noticed. My head started to throb, and then I took a big pressure breath. That helped a little. A few steps later, I did another pressure breath, then another. Pretty soon I was taking a pressure breath ever other step, and then once the trail got even steeper I was taking a pressure breath every step. It was slow and exhausting, but it was the only way for me to get enough oxygen for my body to keep moving. I looked up to the top of mountain, and it seemed like were weren't even close. It had only been ten minutes since our last stop, I didn't know how I was going to keep this up for another 50 minutes. Then suddenly the sky turned a deep red across the horizon. The sun wasn't rising, but it would be soon. I'm not sure if it was psychological or the pressure breaths, but to know that I wouldn't be this cold and tired forever gave me hope.  After another twenty minutes the sun began to peak out from behind the horizon, and I'm not sure if I was driven by the beauty or the exhaustion, but I asked Casey if we could stop to take a quick picture.

Natalie up ahead of me,
rocking the hike like it was no big deal.

Sunrise from Rainier

Sunrise selfie? I'll allow it.

Phil is smiling way too much.
He never complained or asked for a
break. Kind of humbling to have your
50+ year old Father-in-law out-hiking you.

Thirty minutes later, under a bright morning sun we arrived at High Break. Our last rest before reaching the top. We only had 45 minutes of hiking left to reach the top of Rainier. The last 45 minutes weren't the hardest, but they were definitely the longest. Our progress just seemed so slow as we inched ahead. Pressure breaths every step now. We finally inched our way over the ridge of the crater and we had made it. I let out a woop and once we reached the middle of the crater Casey had us sit down and take a well deserved rest. I wanted to lay down. I wanted to take a nap, but my next nap was still over 16 hours away. We had reached the summit, but not the "tippy top" as Casey called it. After a short rest, eating and drinking and applying sunscreen, we took a fifteen minute hike that wrapped around to the top of the crater. We had made it to the top. My eyes started to water, and it wasn't the altitude. I felt a wave of emotion and warmth that I had only experienced a few times before.  Completing a marathon, reaching the top of Kilimanjaro and witnessing the birth of my first and second child. It was a completely unforgettable moment that made it all worth it.

"It isn't the people that are in the best shape that make it to the top of Mt. Rainier," Casey had explained the day before, "it's the people that want it the most. You've got to really want it."

I'm sure there is a metaphor in there somewhere for life. But due to the altitude at 14,410 feet, I'm not sure what it is.

The sad part of the story is that in reality we were only halfway done. We had completed the mentally challenging part, but the real physical test was only 50% over. Our legs were done, but we still had a long way to go. The next four hours we had an exhausting but breathtaking decent over glaciers and crevasses that were only shadows on the way up.

As you can see the snow was very soft on the decent, Casey really pushed us to hurry
because as the snow melts the conditions can become perilous very quicly. He kept
telling us to stop talking and listen for snow and ice falls. 

In the darkness we had crossed this massive crevasse on a 2X1' piece of plywood stretched across an aluminum ladder.
It was much more intimidating in the light. You had a small chord that you pulled up on with your left hand while you
carried your ice axe in your right hand to walk across the ladder. I think it was pretty awesome.
Phil and Natalie didn't think it was quite as much fun.

I'm not going to go into a ton of details on the rest of the decent, but it was exhausting. After we got back to camp muir we loaded up are sleeping bags and gear in our bags, took off our crampons and switched to our trekking poles for the final three hour hike back down to civilization. There was a lot of sledding and stand up skiing down for the last stretch until we got back to the dirt trailed. We were dirty, smelly and sunburned and as we got down to the main trail we eventually started passing little kids and elderly folks out for a short day hike. "Did you guys make it all the way the top?" A kid in hawaiian shorts asked us. "All the way to the tippy-top," we responded proudly. With over 150 summits of Rainier and 3 of Mt. Everest, I'm sure Casey was just shaking his head. We may not be professional mountain climbers, but we sure felt like it today.

These shots were snapped in our last mile as we reached the end of our journey.

A cooler full of lemonade welcomed us to the trail head where the RMI shuttle was waiting to drive us home.  I had three glasses. Char' was waiting for us back at the RMI offices, and as we loaded into the van she was nice enough to pretend we didn't stink.

We took one final shot of Rainier as Charlotte drove us back to our hotel in Seattle. It was a great adventure, but I'm glad to finally have it my rearview mirror.

Pictures

I am honestly not sure if anyone reads our blog anymore (why would they? I never post). But I thought I would put up some recent pictures for good measure. Thanks to my brother Spencer, who took all of the warm weather pictures during our trip to St. George.

First photo together as a family of 4.

Taylor's first ski trip. He loved it.

This is what happens when I try and take pictures of my boys.

St. George fun with the Cook cousins. Adrian taught everyone how to do headstands and front rolls.

Ezekiel

Introducing Ezekiel (Zeke) Philip Dayton

Born January 14, 2013

7 lb. 14 oz., 21 inches

Why Mitt Romney Winning Matters

In 1929 the stock market crashed. The following year there was a run on over 9,000 banks. Nobody trusted the economic system and so instead of investing their money it was hidden safely under their mattresses. When money is kept out of circulation, it has a devastating effect on the economy. Companies can't borrow money, families can't buy houses and unemployment remains very high. 

In recent years we have experienced a deep recession, and while it wasn't as acute as the Great Depression in the beginning, it doesn't show any clear signs of stopping. Many economists point to one word to describe the problem: UNCERTAINTY. Investors aren't hiding money in their mattresses, they are simply keeping it in their bank accounts. Billions of dollars are just sitting on the sidelines because of this uncertainty. Companies that are experiencing good quarters aren't investing in new hires, they are saving up against another possible downturn. Middle income families that used to trust index funds and other safer equity funds- aren't so sure anymore. So they wait to invest.

Mitt Romney

So what does Mitt Romney have to do with this? The US economy is fragile and those with substantial money to invest are waiting for the right moment to jump back into the market. They are waiting for a signal. If Mitt Romney is elected it will send a very strong signal that we have someone in the White House that understands the complexity of our economy. Obama is good person, someone who I think is very intelligent, but he doesn't have the same skill set as Romney. 

In the second debate, the town hall format with Candy Crowley asking the questions, I think the crucial moment of the debate was completely missed by much of the media and the public. Candy interrupts Romney to question his budget plan, "If somehow when you get in there, there isn't enough tax revenue coming in. If somehow the numbers don't add up, would you be willing to look again (referring to possible tax hikes)...?" Romney's answer here is key:

"Well of course they add up. I was someone who ran businesses for 25 years and balanced the budget. I ran the Olympics and balanced the budget. I ran the state of Massachusetts as a governor ... and balanced the budget all four years."

Romney isn't guessing that he will have the ability to make the numbers work, he has built his reputation and his personal fortune by making the numbers work. Now Democrats scoff at this reply, claiming Romney's plan won't work, his numbers don't add up. This is where I part ways with the Democrats. They are trusting a Junior Senator-turned President with 4 years of experience and $6 trillion of deficit spending to come up with a better budget? They think that somehow a savvy politician will do a better job managing the largest economy of the free world? Democrats may feel secure in this ignorance, but investors don't. They are scared of what Obama might do in his second term, and this uncertainty will only persist if he is re-elected. 

Obama did have a chance though, there is no question that there was a moment when the stars were aligned for the President. A few days after he was elected, he rounded up all the leaders of both parties into the White House for a meeting. In this meeting Obama could have secured his future right then and there by building consensus and looking for the best ideas in the room, but that isn't what he did. Instead he shared that he would be willing to listen to ideas, but reminded the Republicans "we won." Making it clear that the Democrats were in charge. In this moment he torched any chance he had at building consensus. Obama lost his moment and opportunity to be a real statesmen. 

Some place the blame on Congress, but Obama had 2 years with both houses to put through whatever legislation the Democrats wanted. All we have to show for it is the National Healthcare Plan. When Obama had both houses at his command, he was effective, but once he had to work together with Republicans there was gridlock. Would Romney have fared better? He did in Massachusetts. As a Republican Governor in one of the most liberal states in America he balanced the budget all four years. Mitt Romney has a track record of getting things done in the face of opposition, we don't know what to expect from Obama- and that is the problem.

But what about the social issues? Mitt Romney isn't running as President to repeal Roe v. Wade or pass an amendment to ban gay marriage.  Mitt Romney has never been about hot button social issues, he isn't looking to get elected to advance some social cause. He wants to get elected to serve his country and lead America out of this recession, and I believe that he has a very unique skill set that could help accomplish that.

Either way, we will recover from this recession. Eventually Americans will do what they always do, pull themselves up from their boot straps and find a way to rebuild. They don't need the government's help to do that, what they need is the confidence that nobody is going to stand in their way. Four years of Obama have left us with nothing but uncertainty. I think it is time for change. Four years ago I voted for Obama, next week I'm voting for Mitt Romney.

St. George Marathoner

After a fitful sleep, I was fully awake at 3:45am. 20 minutes before my alarm went off. Today was the day I had been training for the past five months, and I was very excited. I walked up the stairs to the dark kitchen that was lit only by the St. George city lights out the large windows.

I poured a bowl of honey-nut cheerios, but could only eat three or four bites. I was too nervous to eat, and that was not a great way to start out my morning. I took a shower, put on my running clothes that had been neatly laid out the night before and took a look at myself in the mirror. I was nervous, but I was ready.

Natalie and Taylor jumped in the car to take me down to where the buses shuttle the runners up to the starting line, and about two minutes into the drive I asked Natalie to pull over. Those of you that know me well, know that when I get extremely nervous I also get nauseous. On the morning of my wedding, just before giving my homecoming talk, and while climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro (well that last one may have been more due to the altitude,) but they all resulted in me throwing up.

I didn't realize it at the time, but my marathon was doomed before it began. I arrived at where the buses were congregated and hundreds of anxious runners were in line. I got in the back of the line and started talking with my fellow racers. It was very cool being able to say I was a first time marathoner. I climbed onto the yellow school bus and took the front seat to avoid the chances of compounding my troubles with car sickness.

As the bus climbed through the black and grey hills I chatted with those around me and my spirits started to lift. This was going to be fun. After about 30 minutes I saw some huge spotlights in the distance. We were almost to the starting line. I exited the bus to a rock concert like atmosphere. Music was blasting, bon fires were raging and there were tables full of oranges, bananas, coffee and water. The nausea was subsiding a little bit, so I grabbed a glass of lemon-lime Gatorade and joined my fellow runners alongside one of the closest bon fires. I was able to drink about 4 oz. of Gatorade, but still felt a little queasy.

After warming up by the fire, I waited in the long line for the restrooms, applied anti-chaffe and vaseline as necessary, threw my jacket and pants in the provided bag to the drop-off area and suddenly it was five minutes till race time. I hurridly consumed my Gatorade pre-race GU and found a place in line near the "4 hour" pace. The gun went off, and it took about 5 minutes to cross the starting line. There was great energy, and I had to hold myself back. The energy was inviting me to start fast, but I had a plan. 9:10 during the first half, and then if I was feeling good enough, 8:50 miles during the second half. It was a realistic plan, especially since the St. George Marathon had a second half that had much more downhill than the first half.

I blasted Explosions in the Sky from my MP3 player as I started the run, and the first mile I finished in just over 9 minutes. I was feeling pretty good. The next 4 miles passed the same way, a couple of the miles were downhill, so I really took advantage, clocking a few 8:40 miles. I wasn't drinking very much though, even though I was feeling good, my stomach didn't feel great, but I took sips as I took my walk breaks. I was running the Galloway walk-run method with 4/30 second splits. So basically I was running for 4 minutes then would walk for 30 seconds. During my walk breaks, when I remembered I would drink from the bottles of gatorade I carried on my running belt.

At about 45 minutes in, it was time for me to have a few bites of my Powerbar Triple Threat. I had experimented with a half dozen bars over my long runs, and this was the tastiest and most digestible in my experience. Not today though. I took two bites, but couldn't eat anymore. In retrospect, I should have stopped and walked until I had eaten half of it. This bad decision, along with not drinking enough in the first two hours would come back to bite me.

 At mile 7 we hit the infamous Veyo hill. A monster of a hill rising up over the horizon. I had my strategy set for the hill, I would slow down, move my legs faster, but take smaller strides. There were a lot of runners passing me, but I was confident in my strategy. "You are saving your legs for the second half," I thought to myself. Not worrying at all about the overanxious runners passing me. When I got to the top of Veyo hill I felt a pretty good sense of accomplishment, what I didn't realize is that the next three miles were going to be a steady uphill climb. I was trying to make up from my 10:30 mile while climbing up Veyo, so I kept my miles around 9:00 even though I was going uphill. I should have just slowed down.

At mile 10 or 11 I was finally getting to the top of the series of hills, to the point where it would be almost all downhill for the rest of the race. Unfortunately, I would never be able to enjoy it. The next two miles went by fairly quickly, I was almost to the halfway point and my mile times were very strong. I crossed the halfway point of the marathon (13.1 miles) at just about 2 hour and 2 minutes. Right on schedule for my goal of 4 hours. Only one problem, my legs were really starting to hurt. I had done 20, 22 and 23 mile training runs and my legs always started really hurting by mile 18 or 19, but never this early. Then I had my first surprise, I heard something land behind me- my iPhone had fallen out of my pocket, shattering the screen. It was an omen, this just wasn't my day.

A few minutes later a wave of nausea hit me, and I had to slow down. Maybe if I just walked for a minute? That didn't help. Maybe if I drank some Gatorade? But I was too nauseous. At the next water station I tried to drink a little water but I couldn't really drink much, looking back on it, I guess I was already pretty dehydrated. So I just kept on walking. A sinking feeling hit me, I had just hit a major wall and there were still 12 miles left to run. Nothing in my training runs had prepared me for legs so cramped and dead that I couldn't even run downhill. I was done. My watch read 2 hours 28 minutes and I realized that if I finished at all, it wouldn't be for a long time.

I watched my mile times go from 9 minutes to 12 minutes to 15 minutes. I could normally walk faster than 15 minute miles, but normally my legs didn't feel like they were on fire. I did the math, it might take 3 more hours for me to finish this marathon. Ugh.

Over the next 3 miles I just tried to think positive, but every time I started to jog, the nausea was back. I couldn't afford to throw up again, so I just kept walking. I stopped to stretch next to another casualty of the marathon, and he had these positive words for me,
"I'm retiring from marathons after this. Just hoping I can preserve the little hydration left in my legs to finish the race."
And suddenly it hit me. I was massively dehydrated. It wasn't just that I hadn't been drinking, but that I started the race somewhat dehydrated from throwing up, and hadn't been drinking nearly enough since. So after stretching for a few minutes I started up again, forcing more fluids into me. Over the next 20 minutes I drank maybe 8-10 oz. of water, followed by Gatorade over the next mile. By about mile 21 my legs were still burning, but at least the nausea was gone. I started jogging a little off and on, it wasn't very fun but at least I was moving again.

At mile 23 I saw Natalie, Taylor, Brandon and Annie, Phil, Charlotte as well as Brooke and Spencer. I smiled for the camera, but you might be able to tell it comes across as more of a grimace than a smile. I wasn't having very much fun at this point. It was great to see my family, but so disappointing to be hitting mile 23 a full 25 minutes after I had hoped to finish the entire race. Phil ran with me for a while, but it didn't change the face that my legs were totally dead. Those last three miles were really the toughest. I was fighting just to beat a 5 hour time- and that was pretty disappointing for me.

When I finally hit mile 26 with just .2 miles to go, I saw the crowd ahead and was able to dig down to find a little bit of energy to at least finish strong. They announced my name as I came through gate and I looked up at the time, wondering if my chip time would be more or less than 5 hours. I didn't find out until the next day, but I was 7 seconds over 5 hours. My final time was 5:00:07.

I lifted my arms in the air as I crossed the finish line, even though I wasn't all that thrilled with what had happened. I stepped through the cool mist bridge, had a moment of emotion to reflect on what I had just been through.  I drowned my sorrow with a chocolate milk as I sunk down in the shade of a tree and chatted up a few of the other marathon finishers. This isn't how I had planned it, but at least I had my first marathon under my belt and a personal best that was extremely beatable. It was a strange feeling, this combination of achievement and defeat. Even though I had just finished a marathon, I felt like I still had unfinished business.

Committed

It's nearly impossible to convince Adrian to do something he hasn't decided himself he wants to do. The dishes, gardening, cleaning, etc.

But once he decides he wants to do something, he couldn't be more committed. When he sets a goal, he most often accomplishes it. And his goals aren't always small. I was first made aware of this "quality" while we were dating (we were 25 years old).



"I'm sorry, but you have to go home now. I need to practice the piano." Adrian would say to me.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I made a goal to practice every day for an hour, and I haven't gotten to it today. I don't want to be rude, but I really don't want to miss a day." And so I would leave.

My first reaction was, "you'd rather practice the piano than hang out with ME?" But I soon realized that he was willing to sacrifice for the things he had set his mind to do.


Another example is when he decided he wanted to write a book. A lot of people say that one day they will write a book, but few of them actually do. Adrian is not one of those people.  Adrian got started as soon as he began talking about it. He woke up at 6am every morning to start writing before work. And a book he wrote. Or two, or three. And he was persistent in getting them published (2/3 are now published).


 When Adrian was laid off by his law firm, I cried. But not Adrian. To him it was an exciting opportunity to do what he really wanted to do - start a business. He had an idea in his head, and he went with it. He started by attending conferences, trying to find/convince clients he could consult. The first few conferences he went to, he wasn't even quite sure what his product was. He laughs at himself now, because he had no business being at those conferences as if he was a seasoned veteran. But he persisted, found his niche, and created a successful business.

As you may have learned from his earlier post, Adrian's new obsession is running. But he didn't just start running here and there. He set GOALS - run 4 days a week, run a half marathon, do time trials, run a marathon, etc. Once his goals were set, he has not deviated. Within two months he has run regularly, done a half marathon, and signed up for a marathon (which I have no doubt he will finish).


Many people think that Adrian is lucky . And he is (he did, afterall, win a Nook and a Kindle recently). But I believe he creates his own luck by setting his sights high, working hard, and accomplishing things. And I am proud of him.



So while I am often best at focusing on the things he hasn't decided he wants to do (things that I want him to do), I should admire his ability to accomplish great things. And then follow his example and accomplish great things myself.

Running with my shoes off

On Saturday I decided to run on the UB trail that goes along the Erie Canal. It was a gorgeous day, and I got started early enough that it was pretty cool. Since I got an early start, and I had two 10oz bottles strapped on, I decided to go for my longest run yet, 14 miles.


Since a couple of weeks before the marathon I have been running using the Jeff Galloway walk run method. It is pretty simple, you run for about 4 minutes, then you rest from anywhere to 35 seconds to a minute, depending on how fast you want to run your next marathon (8 or 9 minute miles.) I'm a big fan of this style of running, because it keeps me fresh throughout the whole run. It was tested Saturday though, as I was trying my longest run since the Half Marathon I completed this past May.

The first small problem surfaced at mile 8, when the sun started beating down and I realized that my supply of gatorade in my water bottles was almost gone. The next 6 miles would likely take me over an hour, so I started to panic a little bit. What if I couldn't find water anywhere? I hadn't passed a single drinking fountain, but fortunately there was a restroom at Elicott Street Park that I was able to use to fill one of the bottles with water.

Once I had enough fluids, I was pretty confident that I could finish the run. At mile 10 I thought, "man, I could run at this pace all day." Just two miles later, I realized I had a long way to go to train for the marathon this fall in St. George. It suddenly felt like someone was poking me in the bottom of my foot with an ice-pick, right in front of my heel. I tried to walk it off. No good. I tried to stop, and stretch - it didn't help.

Then, I remembered the lessons from the book, Born to Run. Maybe it wasn't the 12 miles that was hurting my feet. Maybe it was my $120 pair of thick, padded shoes. I had tried everything else, and I was still 2 miles from my car. So I stripped off my shoes and socks and held them in my left hand as I ran on the grass next to the running trail. The pain was gone. I was still exhausted, and my muscles were shot, but I was able to finish the run without anymore pain in my foot. I think I'm ready to make the switch to some minimalist footwear. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it.


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