I decided to go for a little run

Like the new look of this blog? I decided to do some spring cleaning and freshening up.

On Saturday night, I found myself cold, wet and borderline hypothermic as I trudged along the roadways of the Chagrin River valley en route to my 30th mile of the day. But before I go any further, let's take a step back.

As far as running goes, these past few months have been incredibly aimless--and it's a miracle I've been able to keep my weekly mileage at 70-80+. In January, right about the time we decided to move to Denver, my Boston Marathon training was supposed to be cranking away. But Boston is now off as April 19--race day--falls smack-dab in the middle of our relocation to the Mile High City. For several weeks there I was doing hard tempo runs and intervals on my treadmill without even knowing what my next race would be.

But now I know when my next race will be. On May 1, I'll be lacing it up for the Greenland Trail 50K on the Colorado Front Range. Here's how its organizers describe the race:

The Greenland Trail 50K is a trail race located on the front range of Colorado. It was started with the intent to kick off the trail running season by offering a variety of distances to suit your running needs. Run in the Greenland Open Space of southern Douglas County, the Greenland Trail 50K strives to be the premier 50K in Colorado.

The race's maximum elevation is 7,400 feet--pretty manageable. If the trails permit, I may just wear my light-weight trainers.

If Greenland goes well and I can get in the training--about 100-110 miles per week unless my lungs explode from the dry, thin air--I plan to run the Leadville Trail 100-Mile on August 21. Among the ultimate mountain races, Leadville will close out in advance of race day so my decision will need to come soon. Whether or not by August I'll be able to handle elevations of 9,000+ feet only four months into life in Colorado is yet to be determined. When we get to Colorado, I plan to embark on a few very challenging training runs--starting first with elevations below 8,000 feet and eventually working up to over 10,000 feet. I'm going to first need to buy a hydration backpack--perhaps a Camelback or Nathan pack with 55-70 ounces of capacity--along with some trekking poles for the really rough mountain trails.

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So on Saturday night, the stress level in our house was pretty high. It was early evening and Anne and I were stressing over the fact that our house hasn't yet sold. We haven't even gotten an offer on it (yet)--just a few nibbles but no bites. We're going to have to make some last-minute upgrades to the kitchen that are going to set us back a few thousand--but what other options do we have when our society is so obsessed with spectacular cabinets, granite countertops and--alas--stainless steel appliances? But that's not the point of this post. The point is that in a moment of great stress...I went for a little run--30 miles on Saturday.

It was 41 degrees, misting and dark as hell--not too bad, I thought, as I got dressed for my evening excursion. I wore my usual for this kind of weather--compression shorts, running shorts, a thin base layer, a long-sleeve technical tee, my Adidas running jacket, a hat and some thin mittens. Only a few miles into my run, as I was soaking wet and feeling a chilly breeze whipping in all directions, I knew I'd underdressed.

But I didn't care.

I didn't care that I was cold or that it was pitch-black dark on these country roads and my eyeglasses were fogging up (I'd taken my contacts out earlier), creating visibility problems especially from the blinding headlights of passing cars. I didn't care about the deep puddles that soaked my socks and shoes. I didn't care that the wind cut right through me. I didn't care that I was shivering. None of that mattered.

All I did was run, enjoy the sounds of nature--frogs, hisses, random buzzes, sticks breaking from running deer, etc.--and the many parts of the Chagrin River valley I'll so miss once we're gone. I ran a big part of Chagrin River Road, which I consider the best road in Northeast Ohio to run. In the early-morning or late-evening hours, there's not a better road to run or bike than Chagrin River Road. It is the penultimate river road with its curves, hills, distinguishing natural features, and tunnel-like tree cover from Chagrin Falls all the way to Willoughby Hills and beyond. Chagrin River Road is the first 9 miles of the Burning River 100, my first 100-miler.

Chagrin River Road

I thought about these past five years in Chagrin Falls. The memories swirled in my head. I remembered my first ultra--the Summer Buckeye Trail 50K in 2005--and the hard work I'd put in to get from that first ultra to my win at the Mohican Trail 100 Mile Run in 2009. I thought about all the folks I'd met along the way--many who would become cherished friends. Every so often, you meet people who permanently change your life. I would not be the dedicated runner I am today had I not met Jeff Ubersax, Tim Clement, Mark and Steve Godale, Frank Duchossois and Kam Lee. I thought about my 100s and the good and bad times I endured with my trusty, supportive pacers/crew, Kenny, Ted and Dan. I couldn't have done any of it without Anne, Noah and my entire family by my side.

I think on Saturday night, in the midst of that cold, wet run, I finally pulled myself together and looked ahead to the next chapter in my running life. It'll start at the Greenland Trail 50K and may just go through Leadville in late August. Maybe it'll even head through the San Juan Mountains next July (2011, that is) if I decide to line up at (and if I get into) the Hardrock Hundred. Who knows where life will take me. I'd love to see if I can be a decent mountain runner and maybe even use the elevation to my advantage in breaking 2:55 in the marathon. At this point, I don't know what to expect.

It was good to know on Saturday that I can still go the distance. After a few months of really struggling to train amid so many lingering questions, maybe I'm coming out of this fog and funk.

ODDS can be a good thing

My trip to Denver went incredibly well. I had three huge goals to accomplish: 1) find a good job in development/fundraising utilizing my experience and skills, 2) find a place for us to live for the next few months until our house in Chagrin Falls sells and we can finally buy, and 3) find a good childcare facility for Noah.

Amid the beauty, odds to beat.

Two of the three have been accomplished. We found a nice apartment community in Parker (elevation 6,000+ feet), a very fast-growing city just south of Denver, and we have enrolled Noah in an excellent school less than two miles from our apartment. I have some great job leads and have received an excellent verbal offer from a wonderful health care organization in Denver. Things are looking up!

As someone who spends a lot of time in the yard, I'll often come upon a weed that has sprouted such deep roots that it's often hard to pull it from the ground. Sometimes it comes apart as you pull and you have to remove it a little at a time until the weed is totally gone. I don't see my life as a weed--far from it--but I do feel like with this move we're pulling up our roots and going to a far off land. At first, I didn't want to pull at my roots in Cleveland and was resistant--hence all the pain and suffering I've been through the last few months. It got so bad that I talked with a counselor here at University Hospitals who told me the following:

"You have a lot going for you. You have a loving, supportive wife and family. Your son is too young for this move to affect him. You have been very successful at UH and will get another great job. Your house will sell. Your wife already has a job so you have some income during this transition. You can still run in Colorado and you'll make friends there. And it's Denver--one of the most desirable areas in the US! Change your thinking and start playing positive messages rather than messages of doom and gloom!"

In this economy and housing market and with unemployment being what it is and the stories of desperation you hear, it was hard not to be overcome by doom and gloom. But I have changed my thinking and I now look at this move as an adventure and the start of a new life in a spectacular part of the country. I guess it doesn't hurt that I have some great job prospects.

When I survey my life from boyhood to now, it seems I have consistently beaten the odds, and I believe I'm beating the odds now in positioning myself and my family for success and a good life in Denver amid some difficult times for families across this nation. Or maybe I just see myself as a guy who believes the odds are always stacked against me--even if they truly aren't. Perhaps it's a subconscious mindset or mind game arising from some kind of inferiority complex. Maybe that's why I work so hard. In my mind, I believe hard work, devotion and a sense of purpose will almost always conquer the odds.

When I'm training for a race, I tell myself everyone has more talent than I do, and so I have to outwork them. I did that going into the 2009 Mohican 100--a race I won. Whether or not I have talent is immaterial to me. Talent alone doesn't win ultramarathons. Hard work, lots of miles, running through pain and suffering and generally devoting 20+ hours a week to training are the components of winning a long race. You have to motivate yourself every day--and I do so by telling myself everyone else is better than I am and they know it and so I have to outwork them and even outhink them. They look down at me and think I'm a joker and so I'll show them on race day. I will never give up and will keep going after those in front of me. It works!

When I'm looking for a job as I have been for the past several weeks, I tell myself other candidates have a better resume and maybe an MBA, and so I find ways to separate myself from the others. I show my smile and I believe in myself.

At work, I tell myself the last project I did wasn't good enough regardless of whether I got praise or whether what I did brought in money for the organization, and so I put even more effort and energy into my next undertaking. You are only as good as what you're doing now and can't base success in the workplace on what you did last week or month. Success is a day-to-day investment of blood, sweat and tears.

When I look in the mirror, I see a guy who has beaten the odds in losing over 50 pounds and keeping it all off for over seven years and counting. I tell myself every day the fat, lower-back pain and size-38 pants will come back if I don't stay focused, disciplined and dedicated to my running and healthy eating. I have never declared myself "fat free" forever and never will. It's a daily battle.

I guess these messages keep me motivated. I want to be counted out and told I have no chance. I want the world to overlook me and tell me I'm not this and I'm not that. That only motivates me to work even harder. And regardless of how many more ultramarathons I may win (maybe no more!), I want people to tell me any victory I achieve was a fluke because, while that may aggravate me, it will also motivate me. I believe those who achieve and fully know success are at great risk of laziness and an ultimate decline. We have seen this time and again throughout our history--the rise and fall of fill-in-the-blank.

Success--it's come here in Cleveland and maybe that's why this move was so agonizing for so long. I got lazy and forgot that life brings challenges--many painful. This new challenge has the odds stacked against me--or maybe I just see it that way--and so now I practice what I preach. I work hard and with focus. Nothing comes easy and this move to Denver certainly will be no exception. I will have to dig deep.

I give thanks to all who have believed in me throughout this painful but ultimately growing period of my life. And I give thanks to the depressing news headlines, alarmist talking heads, staggeringly depressing statistics and other discouraging mumbo-jumbo that made me work my tail off to find a job and discover a sense of hope and excitement as our new, wonderful life in Denver awaits us. I'm sure there I'll find plenty of big odds to beat. Bring 'em on.

In love with the Rocky Mountains

As I write this post I'm in a Best Western hotel room in beautiful Castle Rock, Colorado--with spectacular views of the Rocky Mountains right outside my window. I'm here in Castle Rock, which is south of Denver and kind of close to Colorado Springs, to accomplish a few things:

1) Interview for jobs
2) Find a place for us to rent until our house in Chagrin Falls sells and we can buy here
3) Find a nice childcare facility for Noah

It is hard to believe that we'll be here--"out West," as they say--about a month from now. Out West.... Man, this is exciting!

It has been a great day. I interviewed today for a position potentially being created that sounds so very good and a really great match with my skill-set, passions and experience. And, beyond the position itself, this is a great organization with friendly, professional people. Tomorrow I go back for more interviews and will also be talking with another great organization. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Denver is a very different place than what I'm used to--but different in good ways. Tonight, I ran 8 miles in and around Castle Rock, which is at about 6,000 feet. That's enough to feel it in the lungs, but I did OK and breathed only a little hard as I climbed a few hills. Anyway, I ran past a skate park and saw a bunch of teenage boys who looked like Shaun White, the gold medalist half-pipe snowboarder, doing stunts. I think only in Denver would I have seen what I saw--kids doing crazy maneuvers with their skate boards and bikes. I've never seen anything like that in Cleveland. It was really cool. They seemed like good kids and I'm glad they were doing something physical versus playing video games, watching TV, etc.

Unless you've seen the Rocky Mountains, it is hard to describe how beautiful they are. On the way back to the hotel tonight, I watched the sun setting behind the mountains. As twilight set in, the mountains became blacker and blacker while the sky behind them was bright orange. The colors and contrast were awe-inspiring. I can't wait to get into the mountains. I think I'm in love with this land out here. I can't imagine what the pioneers must have thought when they saw the Rockies for the first time as they trudged westward across the plains. Living at this elevation, I'll be able to train well for the Leadville 100 and mighty Hardrock Hundred, both of which are here in Colorado.

These past few weeks have been unspeakably hard. Leaving Chagrin Falls, friends, our home, and a really great job at University Hospitals, where I'm valued, respected and recognized for my good work, has been a tough pill to swallow. I'd be lying if I said I haven't had some feelings of despair leaving a good job and putting a beautiful house up for sale. But I believe in my heart that things will work out. When I take the long view, it's obvious Denver is where our future will be brightest. The next few months won't be easy. I'll endure knowing that a finish line will eventually come. And it will come hopefully before I know it.

A Whole New World

The more I think about this move to Denver the more I realize what a major change it's going to bring. To everything. Mostly good change. At this point finding a (good) job is my major concern. But that won't be a concern of this blog. Running will remain the focus.



My running is going to change in the most fundamental ways possible when we move to Denver. We'll be living at an elevation of about 6,000 feet, which is enough to feel in the lungs. Eventually we may wind up in a neighborhood as high up as 7,000+ feet, which is definitely enough to feel. To the west--an easy drive away--will be mountains as high up as 14,000 feet. This is the ultimate running country.

Fast running like I do here in Cleveland with mile repeats and long tempo runs will become shorter but still intense efforts. Whereas I've always believed deeply in the hard mile repeat, I may need to adopt a new ritual of 800-1200-meter repeats. Long tempo runs may have to become fartlek workouts.

And then there are the mountains...to see, explore and summit.

I have decent speed and can burn pretty well, but ultimately I'm a hill runner. The Mohican Trail 100 is a hill race--23,000 feet of up and down hills that beat the tar out of you. Just because I won the 2009 Mohican 100 doesn't means I can do it on the mountains. Hills aren't mountains.

In many respects I'll have to learn to run all over again as I become a mountain runner. It's hard to say what that will be like for me. It's going to take several months for me to acclimate to the elevation. At first I'll run some peaks south of 10,000 feet and try to get used to my surroundings, the big climbs and the thin air. I'll take on more and more with time, especially if in fact I do the Leadville Trail 100-Mile this August. Leadville will be a major challenge. It's run at elevations of 9,000-12,000 feet. And then there's the big, bad Hardrock Hundred down in Colorado's San Juan Mountains. No 100 is more difficult than the Hardrock.

Two things that are on my radar this summer:

1) Doing either the out or the back on the Leadville 100 course. This will require some transportation aid from my wife, Anne, and plenty of logistical planning. I know Anton Krupicka does this run quite a bit. I can't wait to do it myself.

2) Summiting Pike's Peak. I plan to join the Incline Club for some runs. As I understand it, they run in the Pike's Peak area. I cannot wait to stand atop the great peak. But getting to the top--I think it's at about 13,000 feet and climbs 7,000 feet over 13 miles--will require much of me. I'll need to acclimate for a while before taking on Pike's.

I'm not sure what living at elevation is going to do to me as a runner. Are my days of sub-3-hour marathons done since I won't be able to run fast for long periods of time? Or maybe the thin air will actually make me even faster if I run a sea-level race? I know Matt Carpenter, the great mountain runner who lives in Manitou Springs, has a marathon PR of 2:19, but he's a freak of nature whose genetics simply don't apply. I have no shot at such a time, but maybe once I acclimate my goal of a sub-2:50 will become a reality.

The key, I think, to this move is remaining patient in my running. The altitude is going to be an adjustment. I wasn't able to sleep well during our visit to Denver a month ago (a common altitude issue) and I definitely felt the thin air in my lungs during a few runs. I'm going to have to remain patient and know that acclimating will take time. Eventually my red blood cell count will increase and my body will adjust.

Until then, I'll just have plenty of fun seeing, exploring and experiencing a whole new world.

Moving Out West

I have news to share. I guess the title of this post is a dead give-away. After five years of living in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, my family and I are moving to Denver, Colorado to pursue new career opportunities. We'll be in Denver this spring. It's hard to believe we're heading West.

This move has been coming for well over a year, but our final decision was made only a few weeks ago. My wife, Anne, a (brilliant, talented, dedicated and I don't mind saying beautiful) board-certified veterinary internist, has found a wonderful opportunity at a growing private practice in Parker, which is just south of Denver. Anne, who went all the way in her specialty training (4 years of internship and residency training PLUS an additional year as a clinical instructor at Purdue University BEYOND the standard 4 years of veterinary school) will enjoy a supportive, family-friendlier environment and a growing clientele, making this a great move for all of us. I am looking for a full-time position in development (aka fundraising) and will certainly miss working at University Hospitals, my employer for the past three years.

Words cannot describe how much we will miss life in Chagrin Falls and Cleveland. This is where our son, Noah, was born and took his first steps. We both have very dear friends here.

Contrary to conventional wisdom (which is often wrong, by the way), Cleveland is a wonderful place to live. It's an even better place to run. As I've written many times before, we have beautiful parks, hundreds of miles of trails of all varieties, a supportive and vibrant running community, premier races like the Burning River 100-Mile Endurance Run, and excellent running clubs like the Southeast Running Club. The winters are tough here, but you're rewarded with gorgeous springs, summers and falls.

There is so much I'll miss. I'll miss Chagrin Falls, which is a one-of-a-kind town you won't find anywhere else. It's what towns across America try to copy and fail miserably in doing so--because you can't copy charm, authenticity, friendliness, character and soul. You can't copy the Popcorn Shop, Chagrin Hardware, Yours Truly, the peaceful country roads, the village falls, the Sunday afternoon cone-lickers, the Main Street hill, the Halloween pumpkin role, the gorgeous old homes, etc. This is a special place that we'll miss dearly.

And I'll miss my job. I am so fortunate to work at University Hospitals. UH has been incredibly supportive of me as an employee, family guy and runner. One of my closest friends is also my boss. That says it all about my feelings for UH.

I'll miss the Southeast Running Club and the greater Northern Ohio running community. When I joined SERC in the spring of 2005, I was still relatively new to long-distance running and ultrarunning was just something I'd heard of until I started talking with guys like Steve Godale. Ultras are now my passion. Five years later, I've achieved many goals, such as breaking 3 hours in the marathon, completing my first ultra, finishing a 100-miler, ultimately winning a 100-miler, and more recently completing a 24-hour race where I raised money for Rainbow Babies & Children's Hospital. I didn't achieve these goals on my own. I have many in the club to thank for their support and inspiration.

I will miss the Mohican Trail 100-Mile community. If you've been a part of Mohican as a runner, volunteer or crew member, you know what I mean. Winning Mohican in 2009 was one of life's greatest moments. I am saddened that I will not be back in 2010 (more on that below).

With this move to Denver, basically of my 2010 racing plans are changing. I will not be running in the Boston Marathon as it will conflict with our move. I will not be returning to the Mohican 100 to defend. I will most certainly not be competing in the Buckeye Trail 50K and likely not in the Burning River 100. My top objectives are pulling off this cross-country move and finding a good job. Through it all, I'm going to try to stay in shape with a potential goal of the Leadville 100 in August. It might be that 2010 will be a year off for me, but maybe not. I'm not getting any younger and I'm on the backside of my athletic prime. Right now I can run a lot of miles and ask a lot of my body. One day that won't be the case. So a year off is kind of a tough pill for me to swallow. We'll see what's next.

Denver is a wonderful place to live, work and run. We returned from a visit a few weeks ago and loved what we saw, especially the Rockies. We're looking at many areas to live, including Castle Rock which is pretty close to Colorado Springs and offers magnificent views of Pike's Peak and the mountains to the west. We'll be living at an elevation of about 5,000-6,000 feet with pretty easy access to mountains as high up as 14,000 feet. We've driven through neighborhoods that are at 7,000+ feet. It will take many months to fully acclimate and adjust my approach to running. My dreams of running in the Leadville 100 and even the Hardrock Hundred will eventually come true. I'm talking with members of the Rocky Mountain Road Runners Club, the Incline Club (founded by Matt Carpenter), and the Denver Trail Runners.

I can't believe we're going out west. When people hear Denver, they say, "You're going to love it! It's beautiful and life there is so good." While that may be true, leaving Cleveland, which we consider our home, is painful and a little scary. But this move and the new life that awaits us are are going to be exciting. There will be many new possibilities.

Stay tuned!