Old Dog, New Tricks?

They say you can’t teach ‘old dogs’ new tricks.  There is a ring of truth to this cliché for us runners.  That is, until we push ourselves out of our comfort zone.

One of my good friends—also an ultra runner—is one old dog.  With no disrespect to his 30 year running career, when ever I ask him to run a trail outside of his regular repertoire, I’m quickly rebuffed.  “No, I’m just going to do two loops of the xyz trail”.  XYZ trail being the same trail he’s run a hundred times before.  With him I’m now convinced of one thing: if it aint that dog’s hunt, that dog aint gonna hunt!

Which brings me back to this old dog.  I used to believe that I would never be a morning runner during the workweek.  I detested getting up early, rushing to get ready, then throwing myself outside to get though a workout.  Knowing I needed to be at work before 8 am, I always felt rushed, with no time to warm up or cool down.  The result?  For the last 20 years, most of my training during the week has been in the evening hours, after work.

Enter Family--The Great Teacher of New Tricks.  Last week I was on spring break with my family.  Since we were in the mountains to snow ski, I had to make a decision.  Should I run after spending most days on the slopes with my daughter, or get my training done before hitting the slopes, like early in the morning when the temperature was pushing 22 degrees?  With several hours of running per day on my plate, I opted for the morning.  The first 30 to 45 minutes of these runs where challenging, but manageable.  Though while making my way along the solitary Pacific Crest Trail during one of the coldest mornings, the nozzle on my Nathan hydration pack froze solid.  Uhg! 

I also used to think training for ultras was a sacrosanct affair.  Once I registered for an event and had my eye on the prize, nothing could take me away from my beloved trails on southern cal. 

This week I was summoned yet again to the east coast for work.  Business travel and ultra training aren’t natural companions.  But I’m learning they can co-exist.  When I woke up in Portland, Maine at 7 am, I knew I needed to put in 10 miles before my meeting.  Not a big deal, but when my return trip was re-routed on account of a last minute meeting in Columbus, OH, it meant tacking on 7 miles in New York City the same night.

Hell, I thought to myself as I was running through Times Square at 9 pm amidst throngs of tourists, why don’t I touch the Hudson River, then run across Manhattan and then touch the East River?  Determined, I made my way over some rickety steel pipes hovering above the dark, foreboding Hudson.  Hidden below me was an abandoned pier.  I leaped across a wide gap, then made my way to the river’s lapping edge.  As I reached for its cold touch, I couldn’t help but smile as my mind wondered.  If not running, where would I be?   

New tricks?  No, not for this old dog.  It’s just my own hunt. 

Endurance is Patience Concentrated

No Hands Bridge -- Mile 96.8 of the Western States 100 Mile Run

Today marked the end of my first 80 mile week for this year.  A sweet milestone, yes, but also a reminder of the demanding road to come.  From where I am today, all I can say as I look ahead to the next couple of months is bring it on!

It's taken a while, this build-up to my current level of endurance.  Months in fact.  I wouldn't do it any other way.  Endurance is Patience Concentrated.  When I read this quote by Thomas Carlyle (1795-1891), I surmised this man understood what I finally have begun to grasp.  Give it the time, and the time will come.

The will to finish means nothing without the will to prepare.

Close Encounter--Western Diamondback

Dear fellow trail runners, its snake season! Beware.  I stumbled upon this Western Diamondback Rattlesnake this afternoon on a solo run in Blackstar Canyon.  I didn't even notice him until he sent a shudder down my spine with his intense rattle.  I was only a few feet away when I heard his warning and it scared the hmm hmm out of me.

Unlike other rattlers which can be lethargic or non-aggressive, the Western Diamondback will coil, rattle fearsomely, and stand its ground when threatened. And that he did! It bites hundreds of people a year, more than any other venomous snake in the United States. It hunts from late evening to early morning, crawling either sinuously like other snakes or rectilinearly like a caterpillar.


According to desertusa.com, "the Western Diamondback, especially the juvenile, often comes under attack itself. It may become a meal for an eagle, a hawk, a roadrunner or a wild turkey; for a kingsnake or a whipsnake; or for a coyote, a fox, a badger or a feral hog. Regarded as an enemy and a threat, it may be trampled to death by a deer, an antelope, a cow, a horse or even a sheep. The Western Diamondback lives in a rough neighborhood."

I think I'll be paying a little more attention to the trail in front of me now that it's snake season.  

Training Race #2 -- Rucky Chucky 50k

Getting to the finish line.  One foot in front of the other.  Forget everything else.  Just keep moving forward.  It’s the experience that matters! That is my race report for today. 

More importantly, I missed my flight and now I’m sitting in the bar at the Sacramento Airport waiting for the late flight back to the OC.  Problem is my running shorts under my pants are still filled with discarded half-full gel packs. I totally forgot about them!    Segue: I just got to see the biggest upset for the year in college basketball.  Northern Iowa spanked number one ranked Kansas!  I’m always rooting for the underdog, and those dogs got their due. 

Two beers and a bloody down…What if the late flight is delayed?  

Western States 2010--100 Days and Counting

Here it comes. Like a freight train at night; careening rapidly down the track in the silent darkness.  I'm on the track, in its path.  I can see it, in the distance, its tiny lamp, glimmering.  But it's getting closer.  I begin to feel my time dwindling. Closer still.  Now I hear the hum of its steel lurching down the track.

 

The Western States is in 100 days, and now I begin to feel my time dwindling.  Am I prepared?  Have I been doing enough to get ready? What should I be doing over the next 30 to 90 days so I don't get run over?  As I stand "on the track" here is what I see....

Training to date:  overall its been on target, not stellar, but not bad.  My miles are a little less than ideal to date, but I'm trying to emphasize quality a little more than quantity. Hills (more of 'em) have been the main difference over last year.  My weight is right on track compared to last year, even a little more ideal, which is good since I want to run 5 lbs lighter than last year.  That will put me around 157/158 lbs, the same weight I was at 30 years old when I grabbed my marathon pr.  Right now I'm 164. 

Training Next 100 days: Now is the time I really have to start to executing on my plan.  There will be some changes over last year.  First, I want to keep my weekly milage in the same range, peeking around 90 miles per week, but focus more on race day conditions.  After battling my quads for the last 30 miles in last year's race, I plan to focus much more on running downhill.  Once during the week and at least once on the weekend I will be doing downhill workouts.  One or more mile long downhill intervals will be the focus, and I plan on running in the Santa Ana mountains every other week.  I'll also be supplementing this with weight lifting twice per week, again with an emphasis on building quad strength.    

Another part of my plan I'm on track with is to complete four races leading up to Western States, two more than last year.  I completed the Malibu Creek 50k two weeks ago, and I'm running the Rucky Chucky Roundabout 50k this weekend.  Malibu was a gritty course, with nearly 6,000 feet of elevation gain, right in line with Western States.  Rucky Chucky will be run on the later stage of the actual Western States course, a great opportunity get more experience on race day trail.  I'm planning on running Leona Divide 50 Mile in April, my third year, and possibly the Bishop High Sierra 50k or something similar in May.  That will put me at 4 races leading up to Western States. 

There is more, but these are the pillars that I'm building now that I can hear the steel lurching down the track.

Spring Rushes In

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Once in a while on long runs I find myself just staring at the scenery around me.  Today was one of those days.  It made for an easy run.  

California Fan Palm and Wildflowers 

Upper Newport Bay Eco Reserve

Ice Plant 

      Southern View -- Upper Newport Bay Eco Reserve

Malibu Creek 50k

Today was my first race of the season, the second 50k I’ve ever run, and a good test for my training regime over the last couple of months.  It was also a great effort for some major hill climbing, waist-high creek crossings, and some very muddy trail sections.

Jeff P joined me at 5:30 a.m. for the 75 minute drive from Orange County to Malibu Creek State Park.  As we drove under a foreboding sky, brilliant white-topped mountains loomed to the east, a reminder of yet another storm that doused our soggy coast.  Clouds lingered and I wondered if we would be spared the rain’s wrath.  We exited the freeway, and then decided it was perfect timing to pull over for a hot cup of black coffee under the golden arches.    

Malibu Creek 50k is one of thirty races put on by the Pacific Coast Trail Runs (if there is a business model to make money in ultra running, this might be the winner!).  Anyway, Malibu Creek is a formidable course with over 5,900’ of elevation gain that consists of two loops with single track trail limited to the first couple of miles and fire roads making up the balance.  Not my first choice of terrain, but what this course lacked in comfort, it more than made up for in grit. 

Following a gentle, almost sleepy couple of miles after the start, the course turns up, and up, and up.  This was when the runners began to separate. 

As I was huffing up the first climb, somewhere between mile 5 and my anaerobic threshold, a youngish runner started to pass me.  As he ran buy me he said something about having to “defend his title”, suggesting he was last year’s winner.  Cool, I thought, but last year’s race didn’t have the same line up as this year.  It occurred to me that this young runner who thought he was racing to win from the back was actually loosing ground to Evan Hone who was in the front, and the ultimate winner of the race.   

During the two six mile ascents, it wasn’t enough to simply put my head down and grind out the miles.  I tried to keep my feet turning over quickly, with rapid, sure steps.  Developing and maintaining a rhythm seemed to get me on my way up these slopes.  Today I learned a little more about my body’s limits. I’ve been training on hills more than usual lately and it has paid dividends.  Listening to my body rather than relying solely on a heart rate monitor allowed me to push through several hours on these hills at or around my anaerobic threshold.  I felt good and in control throughout the entire event which I'm pleased with since I ran all the climbs.  

The descents were a little more technical than expected, with fire roads washed out from the rains, but all part of the experience.  As we made our way down the first “decent” section of the course, I couldn’t stop often enough to scrape the mud off my shoes.  Can I lug this stuff around for another hour or two? 

I reached the finish line in five hours and twelve minutes, 6^th place overall and 2^nd in my age group.  Overall, a run to remember with some great climbs, great views and excellent terrain to endure. 

The Five Rules of Running Shoes. Rule One--Shoe Weight Matters

For runners, finding the right shoe is not unlike finding the perfect mate.  It can take years, even a life time.  Then you meet for the first time, maybe by chance, maybe by plan.  You date for a while, maybe because it feels right, or maybe because you're getting over a tough break-up.  Then, before you know it, you realize this is "the one".   You make arrangements to "tie the knot".  Then, years later, having tied the knot  (thousands of times with your shoe in this case), "the one" changes.  Version 6 is totally different than the version you first met! Or, heaven forbid, maybe you've changed?

Ok, enough of the perfect mate analogy.  I recently purchased, and promptly returned, three different pairs of shoes. It still feels a little strange, to walk out of a store with a brand new pair, only to walk right back in asking for an exchange or a refund.  I'm pretty sure there is a shoe for every foot, but I know every shoe is NOT for this foot!  I've run in a plethora of brands and models.  Asics, Saucony, New Balance, La Sportiva, Montrail, Mazuno, North Face, among others.  All are great brands. But over the hills and through the years, I've learned there are, for me at least, five immutable laws when it comes to running shoes.  Here is the first.  

Law Number One - Shoe Weight Matters. I never used to think much about shoe weight.  But when I start training a lot I notice it.  Since running is not much more than the application of energy (power) against gravity (resistance), its only logical that less weight equals less resistance, which equates to more efficient running.

While it might seem irrelevant to quibble over a few ounces, here's something to think about.   A runner's foot strikes the ground between 150 to 180 times a minute.  Since every stride requires a runner to lift her foot, the difference adds up quickly.  For example, if your cadence is 170, you're lifting your feet 170 times a minute, or 10,200 times an hour.  Now think of what a difference a measly two ounces could make: 2 ounces multiplied by 10,200 equals 20,400 ounces, or 1,224 pounds, lifted during an hour long run (one ounce equals 1/16th, or .06 of a pound).  Sound crazy?  Ok, maybe.  But I know from my own running that when I'm on a pair of 8 ounce racing flats, my feet feel like they barely touch the ground.   

Now for the absurd...I weigh all my shoes!  I stole my wife's food scale and have quarantined the thing for a couple of years.  This is one of the reasons I've returned so many shoes. It's easy to find information on shoe weight on the internet, but I've found a lot of it is bulls!#t.  Most advertisements for shoe weight are based on a shoe size perfect for a 7th grader.  The shoes I've purchased (size 10.5-11) are always several ounces heavier than advertised. 

What is the right shoe weight?  Much of this depends on what I'm using the shoe for.  For me, if I'm training on the roads, I want something that is average to light with a reasonable amount of cushion, but not too much.  For that I need something less than 12 ounces.  The New Balance 758, a neutral shoe that tips the scale at just over 11 ounces, has worked very well for me.  If I'm training on trails, I look for protection over cushion.  For the last couple of years I've run on Asics 2130 Trail, a great shoe weighing in at 13 ounces, but now discontinued.  The newer version, the Asics 2150 Trail, gained an ounce and is now a little hefty for me (Asics, why did you have to put weight on my 2130s?). For this I've switched to the Asics Trail Attack 6 which is somewhere around 12.7 ounces. So far so good. 

I've also been experimenting with the New Balance MT 100.  I recently ran two back to back 20 milers on some rocky, rutty terrain in these little demons.  They stood their ground and weigh in at a nimble 8 ounces.  I kicked a rock pretty hard and to my surprise they absorbed the blow well with no damage or pain to my toes.  Both the New Balance 100 and the Asics Trail Attack 6 have a rock guard built into the sole of the shoe so you don't have to worry when treading on those nasty, poky rocks on trail.

So, next time you lace up for a run, grab a food scale from the kitchen and give it a whirl.  Better yet, if you're training in heavy shoes, try something lighter.  Your feet might thank you...by barely touching the ground.

"Rule One--Shoe Weight Matters" is the first of five series of posts covering "The Five Rules of Running Shoes".  Coming soon --- Rule Two.
 

Getting Through It

When snow was pelting the east coast this week, I initially thought my flight into Minneapolis Tuesday afternoon was a blessing.  Then I heard the temperature.  The low was supposed to hover in the single digits, somewhere between 5 and 8 degrees.  Hmmm….I wasn’t quite sure if I was the weather guru or the simple fool, having brought along a snow cap, gloves, warm-up pants, long underwear and warm socks.  Prepared?  Yes.  But do people really run in 5 degrees?  I managed a nice 5 miles on a tread mill Wednesday morning.    

I was booked to fly onto New York Wednesday evening, right smack into the heart of one of the worst snow storms in recorded history.  As the day progressed, I found out thousands of flights were being cancelled as snow battered Washington D.C and New York.  Sure enough, my flight was cancelled too.  I was minutes away from aborting my trip to the east coast altogether when I learned I was now booked on the only flight into New York Wednesday night.  Yea, right.  Like this plane is really going to fly into the middle of this raging monster when no others would dare.  I started making plans to spend another night in Minneapolis.

But as the clock ticked closer to the 6 pm boarding time, I kept checking for a cancellation notice.  Nothing.  I started making my way to the airport.  When I arrived I quickly looked at the departure monitors, sure to see a big “Cancelled” next to my flight.  Nothing.  Come on guys, now you’re going to make me go through security and walk all the way to the gate, only to tell me my flight is cancelled like the thousands of others into New York.  But as I approached the gate, it finally hit me.  This plane is going to take off.  And I’m supposed to be on it.

“We are scheduled to touch down at 11:45 p.m.” the pilot announced.  “But it could take longer because we’ll probably be in a holding pattern for a while due to the storm” he added.  Great, I thought.  We are taking off and we don’t even know if we can land!  In the end, we made it.  And when we touched down, the entire plane erupted in applause.  I was making my way off the jetliner and I heard one of the ground crew saying our pilot was a hero because ours was the only plane that landed that night.  Nice. 

As I was running through Central Park early Thursday morning, it dawned on me that, as runners, sometimes we just have to “get through it”.  Be it snow storms, cancelled flights, late-night arrivals, just “getting through it” means simply lacing up our shoes and getting out there.  Then comes Friday morning, and I’m now in Boston, running next to the frozen Charles River.  The sky is clear, and the sun is rising in the blue sky.  I made it over the bridge to Cambridge, where I get my first glimpse of the MIT campus. 

As I’m heading back,  a youngish college kid runs by me at a good clip.  I shuffle along, taking in the scenery.  Not knowing, my feet begin turning over a little faster.  Now a couple hundred yards ahead of me, I notice the youngish one isn’t taking any more ground.  I’m gaining ground.  I look down at my GPS.  7 minute pace….6:45, 6:30…Now I’m shadowing him by a few yards.  Ok…feet.  When he looks over his shoulder, his pace quickens.  My stride is steady.  I quietly pull up next to him, listening.  I hear labored breathing.  With miles in the bank, I gently shift into the next gear and begin to separate.  My legs carry me now.  Yes.  These are the moments. 

Getting through it. 

Are We Lunatics?

It's a mystical place, the moon.  Surface temperature over 450 degrees;  one quarter the size of the earth, very close to the size of the Pacific Ocean.  No other object in the night's sky has captured our imagination so deeply.  On July 20, 1969, after circling the earth for some 4.5 billion years, the moon's soft surface was, finally, touched by a human .  It's said that this "one small step", firmly planted where wind and water do not exist, will remain intact for some 10 million years.

Historically speaking, the moon has also gotten a bad rap.   The word "lunatic" stems from the Latin Lunacus or luna, which translates to the English word moon.  Oddballs, or those considered to be "not playing with a full deck" have been labeled "loonies", likely due to the old belief that madness in humans was directly related to the phases of the moon.  What are now referred to as mental institutions or even assisted living facilities were, in the day, simply "loony bins" or "lunatic" asylums.      

On June 26, 2010, at 9:01 p.m., over the rocky peaks and foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, a full moon will rise from the east.  With it will come its own light, gaining strength as the twilight fades from the setting sun.  Underneath this same moon light, several hundred runners will be making their way toward the finish line of the Western States 100 mile endurance run.  I'm looking forward to that moment. 

Sometimes people ask me why anyone would want to run 100 miles.  Honestly?  I don't have a good answer.  Marathons are one thing, but 100 miles just seems so "crazy", I often hear.  Crazy?  Maybe.  Loony?  For sure.

Step by Deliberate Step

Today I happened upon a few minutes that stood still.  It was during the final miles of 18.5 mile run.  Above Newport Beach's back bay, along the green belt, I glanced ahead and a tiny sliver of white caught my eye.  I slowed to get a better view.  Gently, in the distance, the figure began to take shape, sending clues through its slow, deliberate movements.  Alone amid a background of green leaves and a silent wind, a great White Heron stood before me. How close can I get?  I slowed to a walk.  Then slowed some more.

One hundred feet, fifty feet, twenty five. I inched closer. Fifteen feet! He turned to walk, cautiously, step by deliberate step, away from me. When I looked at his feet, then my own, I realized that we were walking in sync. We continued this slow waltz for less than a minute, and as I ambled along, I couldn't help but wonder how many more times I could lift my knee before this master would simply lift his wings and disappear into the sun.

Lift he did, and as I made my way through the last few miles, my pace quickly followed.

2010 – The Road Ahead

Wow, it’s here, the new year.  Just like that, I lift my head again and look forward to new opportunities.  What does the new year hold for me?  Better yet, what will I grasp from the new year?  Will there be goals for me?  Will I lift the bar higher for myself?

I’ve been a big believer in committing to specific events as way to draw a hard line for myself -- to set daily, weekly even monthly training goals.  With Western States 100 on the calendar now, I’m in the process of  formulating my plan, and I expect there will be a few changes in store for my training and racing compared to the last couple of years.

I’ll lay some of those out here in this blog over the next few weeks.  In the mean time, I'm learning that being   motivated to run 365 days of the year is not realistic, nor necessary.  Running takes a lot of work, especially in the winter, at night, alone, in a hurry, when I’m beat down, from work or other things in life. To plan, train and then run through the season, including 50 and 100 mile events, I've learned I have to pick my battles, and carefully focus my energies toward specific events and periods.  I believe now, more than ever, that the more focused and tactical I am about directing my energies, the better I do as a runner.  Running 80 to 90 weeks is doable, but should be done for the right reasons, at the right time, with the event in mind.  Hill training, speed work, long runs, weight training, heat training, stretching, diet, good sleep and rest are all factors that will play a part on my path in 2010.

Capturing all these factors in my plan will be a balancing act, but it is my desire.  Whether I succeed on this path I cannot guarantee.  What I can guarantee, though, is that my success will come down really to one thing, the same thing that binds all of us to our goals and ambitions: Motivation.

Saltwater 5000 -- 2009

Standing Aloft Santiago Peak - 5,687'

What started six years ago as a dubious quest between two runners, has now grown to an annual pilgrimage; a 32 mile holiday journey from the edge of the Pacific ocean to the top of Saddleback Mountain, Orange County’s highest point at 5,687 feet. On December 19, 2009, ten of us leaned over and touched the cold, blue water of the Pacific Ocean then turned to make our way to the summit. This year’s Saltwater crew was the largest to date, with six returning runners and four first timers. Also Included in the lineup were two female runners.

Unlike last year, we started under a dry, pristine sky. Darkness hung over us for most of our trek through El Moro canyon and the winding single track below the toll road. Leading the charge was Kevin S, who just a few weeks earlier had announced via email and Facebook that he had scouted and marked the trail along this section. Kevin’s one assignment as a newbie was to see the group safely through this section. However, when I realized Kevin and the group had run right by the turn and were lost, I could only wonder what the little guy had been smoking.

The next section usually brings some of the most breathtaking scenery, as the sky fills with yellow, orange and then deep red from the rising sun. We all made our way over the ridge and down to Laguna Canyon. But with runners, of course, nothing is sacred, especially when the moon is rising (and I’m not referring to the celestial moon here). When nature calls folks, what can you say?


We moved easily through the Serrano section of the run, with the normal stops along the way. Thanks to our hardy and ready crew Dawn and Trina, nothing was missed, except for an “embarrassing” moment for Bino when Trina was picking up ice (we’re all winners Bino!). Fast forward to the Skate park, where Al, Dawn, Trina, and Marshall met us around this midway point, a good transition for the more difficult terrain to come.

It can be said that life is comprised of the little things, those brief moments we don’t notice at first, that we remember in the end. This year’s Saltwater 5000 didn’t disappoint.


As we climbed up the infamous dreaded hill, the sky seemed to open up before us, and presented some of the most amazing views I’ve seen in my 40 years in the OC. The higher we climbed, the farther we could see. Once on the mountain, every turn seemed to present another unbelievable view. At such an altitude, we stood well above the curvature of the earth, making San Clemente island appear larger than ever. Snow topped peaks of the San Bernardino and San Gabriel mountains stood beside us, lending to a panoramic playground.


I’d like to say congratulations to all the runners this year, especially Laura who worked long and hard to prepare and get through this day. And to Bino, who also trained specifically for this year’s Saltwater. Seeing these two getting to the summit was sweet. Seeing Laura and her dad, two generations, making their way up Modjeska grade trail was a special moment. And we are all honored to have Gerry, our master, who at 68 years young raises the bar every time he steps foot on the mountain. Fellow first timers Kevin, Joe and Sue ran very well, as did third timer Jeff D. Keeping the faith is also a big part of Saltwater, and I was happy to share the trail yet another year with Jeff and Rob.

Keep it real Saltwater!

There There, Marathon Snobs

Today I was thumbing through the January/February 2010 issue of Running Times. I came across the following quote which was also carried in the New York Times:

“It’s a joke to run a marathon by walking every other mile or by finishing in six, seven, eight hours. It used to be that running a marathon was worth something—there used to be a pride saying you ran a marathon, but not anymore. Now it’s, ‘How low is the bar?’” (Adrienne Wald, a college cross country coach).

Yo Adrienne, please reboot your ego. Hopefully when you login again you will know, as a runner, what running is really about. If you don’t, you should read a few books by George Sheehan, who taught us that running is just as much about self awareness as it is times and competition. Sheehan once wrote that “the mind’s first step to self-awareness must be through the body”.

If you still don’t understand what running is about, then I suggest you go out on a Sunday and volunteer as a support crew at the finish line of a marathon. But don’t quit after the fast runners are done, wait there until the 6, 7 and 8 hour finishers to come through. You will likely see people who are in their 60’s and older. You might even see people who’ve never done anything athletic in their life, some of whom have struggled for years with physical or emotional problems. When these runners cross the finish line after battling for 26 miles, look into their eyes. When they look back at you, tell them what you really feel.

We runners are all individuals, and we all come in different shapes and sizes, and with varying abilities and ambitions. A fast pace for one, is ultimately slow to another. But we runners share one thing in common, something we should be loath to forget. When we run, we feel alive.

Western States 2010 - I'm In!

I’m really not the superstitious type. In fact I laugh at some of the superstitious things people have done to get an edge. Like Michael Jordan wearing his college shorts under his NBA uniform. Hah! Like that really helped him. I wonder if he wore them inside out? Because its said that clothes worn inside out bring good luck. Ok, lets get real here.

When I walked out the door for a run this morning, I was sure to bring my blackberry, because the 2010 Western States lottery was about to be held. There was no way I could wait to see the results of the lottery after my run when I could see it during my run using the web browser on the device. It was, after all, the same blackberry I used to see my very own name selected in the 2008 lottery. Superstitious? No way.

Today I was also sure to wear my Western States sweatshirt for my run. It only made sense because I’m in Chicago for the weekend and its 20 degrees outside with a wind chill. Sure, I could’ve worn my usual long sleeve shirt with a wind breaker, but today was a special day. It’s the Western States lottery. Superstitious? Nope.

As I was running along Lake Michigan, the clock counted down until it struck 9 a.m., the lottery had begun. I looked up and saw four Canadian Geese fly directly over my head, and the song Right Here by Jesus Jones started. Are these good signs? I don’t know, but they couldn’t be bad. I continued on my run around Soldier Field, checking my blackberry every mile or so.

Turning back toward the hotel, the wind was at my back, and my stride seemed effortless. I stopped, and glanced at my handheld. I scrolled down through the last names and there it was, my name! I’m in! My arms lifted to the sky, as I savored the moment. I quickly called my wife. “I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news, which do you want to hear first? The good news, I got into Western States again, and the bad news, I got into Western States again!” We laughed together knowing what would be in store in the months to come.

As I was heading up the elevator I glanced at the mirror. Something was sticking up on the top of my running cap. As I looked closer, I realized it was the tag. I’d been wearing it inside out the whole time.

No way!