International Club of DC

Enjoyed the message today at National Community on Scars and forgiveness from Pastor Mark -- found it incredibly profound like all the others over the last few weeks.

Then drove to the Tidal Basin, the partially man-made inlet along the Potomac River between Jefferson and FDR Memorials.

Was amazed at the thousands upon thousands of Cherry trees and even more amazed at the several thousand locals and tourists who flocked to enjoy the beauty.

What was especially nice was the breeze, strong and steadfast and blowing from the south creating waves with white caps along the Basin and Potomac.

What was nicer was that I ran with it on my back and the nice mile and a half from the tip of Hains Point to the west side of Jefferson where I enjoyed socializing and networking with the International Group of DC during their Spring Picnic.

But later on, I felt energized and deprived.  At 10:00 pm after doing work with my roommates, I had to go out for a spin again.  Yes, the Awakenings at Hains Point magically pulled me away.  Even with 35 kts gusting winds, I pressed on the 3.2 mile stretch of road around the point.  It was refreshing, enlightening and definitely addictive.

Cherry Blossom Fest Kickoff

Today, Linda drove down from Solomons and celebrated the kick off of the 09 Cherry Blossom Festival with me.

It was a little rainy so it was best to do a windshield vice walking tour.

We first drove to the heart of the festival enjoying the panoramic view of the puffy, pink cotton candy trees that lined the Tidal Basin.

A stone's throw away, by the Washington Monument folks from near and far were lining up with their fancy kites, some exquisite, some home-made.

Then we headed to the National Building Museum and secured a lucky, front row seat to the Opening Ceremony. We saw this American guy who Linda and I thought at first was a Hip Hop artist sing Japanese folk tunes perfectly, you would think he was Japanese.

There were ballet dancers, First-grade violin players and the highlight of the whole show was this all-female drummer dance troupe that thrilled and whirled the crowd -- what a wonderful show and wonderful way to end the show.

We then strolled over to the Portrait Museum and browsed through the arts and crafts of Americana, both historic and modern.

Admiring art really worked up an appetite and Chinatown being next door, we enjoyed a nice, wholesome gluten-free dinner of roast pork, soy sauce chicken, spinach and matsutake mushroom but not necessarily in that order.

The lighter side of dinner occurred when Linda attempted to add sugar to the high-grade Chinese tea.

That was when I interceded on behalf of the Ancient Chinese mythology and saved the day.

By now, you would think that the evening was over especially since the rain had come back some.

But, I had one more surprise left up my sleeve-- a nice scenic drive by the US Capitol, Library of Congress, Supreme Court and then a drive cross the border into VA.

Linda was surprised to see the Pentagon but was truly impressed with the determination and design of the Pentagon Memorial and the way the age lines traverse the Memorial at 45 degrees, directing our eyes across the path to the current Air Force Memorial where American Airlines Flight 77 had previously flown from.

We were touched to see the youngest victim, Dana Falkenberg, who was only three-years old and were equally honored by the oldest who was 71 and had previously served and retired from the US Army.

Then after an afternoon and evening of entertainment, arts and honor, Linda was ready for her long drive back to Solomons, through the fog and rain.

National -- Trained for Half but Decided to Go All the Way

Waking up at 0-dark thirty was not pretty this early spring morn.  For one, it was Saturday and I survived a vicious week.  I hit the snooze button to squeeze in another 15 minutes of sleep -- but no, my digestive system would appreciate it, if I rose now.

Finally, I dragged myself out of bed at 0415 and went straight to the kitchen, toasting three small wheat bagels smudged with a double scoop of peanut butter and honey to give me lots of energy.  I stuffed this in my tummy and then waited.

I wanted to get the food into my system so that I could the waste out before I left the house. Didn't want to have to wait those long, painful lines for the Potta Potties and dash to the corrals-- which I ended up doing anyway.

After breakfast, I took my detrol to control my bladder (not too many bushes through NW DC), my allegra (spring was here and the cherry blossoms were budding to bloom), my 8-Hour Tylenol (to placate those inflammed muscles and joints that I would experience by Mile 10) and said a quick prayer (for anything and everything that day).

Today was another big door in the journals of my young runner's experience -- I would be running the National Half Marathon today, although I was registered to run the Full (The Half was already filled up weeks in advance and I had no choice but to sign up for the Full).

Certainly I was allowed to register for the Full and just run half, but officially, I would sure to be be disqualified.

The beginning of the run was awesome.  Temps in the low 30s, no wind, only 8,000 runners in attendance so plenty of space in front of me.  Everything nice and flat and scenic.

The first leg took us to Constitution and the Monuments. Then we hung a right and started heading for the Dupont Circle.  Then up the hill on Connecticut Ave to the heart of Adams Morgan where the young and old were still asleep from all the partying the night before.

Then coming down on N Capitol St was nice cuz it was mostly downhill - I was finally getting back what I had put in.

As I was making my way through H Street and at the half way point, a funny thought crossed my mind.  I had 2 more miles to go -- didn't want to stop running so soon, and I felt pumped and ready to press on.

What if at the 13.1 mile point, I veer off to the left and continue this race, I thought.  This would be the most bizarre run ever.

So it was right there and then, that I decided to bust it loose and go for a full 26 miles-- I know it was such a foolhardy running decision because I had not trained for the full (longest run was 9 miles this year) and I was wearing my Brooks (ST Racers) flats with almost zero support -- not the type of shoe you want to run 26 miles on.

I broke my record on the half -- ran 13.1 miles in 1:49.  Not bad and almost 20 minutes faster than my Half Marathon two years ago.

But would I regret going the full distance when I had only planned and prepared to go the Half?

And why would I want to torture myself for another 2 hours plus when I had already reached my goal and scored my personal best?  Surely, I had plenty of things to do that day (visiting contractors, calling my realtor, visiting UDC) , none the least of which included hitting the streets of DC including south of the Anacostia River for another couple of hours.

At Mile, 17 -- it hit me, just as I was hitting my stride.  Oh no, the dreaded blisters on the sole of my feet (same as last year) -- spurred on by my flats and its inability to provide necesarry cushion and support.  I passed near L'Enfant Metro -- the thought about quitting momentarily crossed my mind -- but not, at this point -- I wanted to press on to SW.

Down through the tunnel to the SW Waterfront -- I had to terminate my Marathon now.  I pulled a full screech halt, the Metro within a close earshot.  Took off my shoes and inspected my feet.  They were in pain, but it was not bloody.  I would suck it up and pound on.

By now, my pace had slowed to over 9 minutes and I was just trouncing along at a horrid, wicked pace.

Finally I set my sights on the National Ball Park which challenged me to slug on.  Wanted to just run over the Frederick Douglas Bridge to my home terrain of Anacostia and just plop down on some grassy lawn somewhere in the Anacostia Park.  Had driven on the Bridge a million times, but never ran on it (besides the Pedestrian path), so this was meaningful for me.

The Anacostia Park, though quiet, was actually very nice -- peaceful, scenic and my home turf (I've only ran here once and just for a couple of miles, though, I have shot golf here before).

Then onto Ward 7 (The Marathon covered 5 out of 8 DC Wards) and onto the hilly but idyllic Minnesota Road.  Unlike Constitution or Connecticut, there were no tourists this side of town -- but I should know, the local folks were very friendly and accommodating.  Many said 'Hi' or just waved in their friendly fashion.  It was all they could muster up that day, but it meant the world to me as I struggled physically, but was trying to motivate my mind. 

Though, it's rough on the heart, I do love hills -- both running down as well as running up and Minnesota Avenue had a lot of them -- Rolling, Rolling, Rolling.

This is where I started picking up my pace, until I noticed that both the 3:50 and 3:55 pace group had passed me and were starting to make some distance.  Bamm!  It hit me hard on the asphalt pavement.  By now, I started getting scared.

On the last hill, I started hitting the stretch.  Then as I remembered from two years ago, the vicious turn onto the East Capitol Street Bridge and final mile into the Finish Line.

I ran so hard that I could feel the blood, hot and heavy, pumping my thighs and my calf muscles -- felt like they were gonna explode.

I ran so hard, that my feet started burning, catching on fire almost.  Didn't want to think about the pain.  I tuned my brain out, focused on good thoughts and closed my eyes tight, hoping the finish line was near.

As I passed the 26 mile point, I let out a quiet scream of joy then horror -- I suddenly make out the finish clock, alive and large, displaying 3:56 -- Oh  no,  I had to stretch it out, even if my muscles no longer cared.  I had made a poor mistake as it is.  Now I had to make it below 4:00 to save my face.

Yes,  Made it -- 3:58 Clock Time; 3:55 Chip Time, in fact.  Was it my PR?  Yes and No -- in actuality I had coincidentally matched my PR from last year's MCM.  But, essentially yes, since I was 20 seconds faster this time and could have sliced several minutes off if I hadn't stopped to check on the status of my feet.

After the run, I hit a steam bath on base, got a quick Chinese acupressure massage (from Bolling AFB) and now am icing my legs with a cup of ice so that I can quickly and completely recover -- BIG week ahead w/ Hearings.

And thank goodness I'm not nursing my Ego -- that would have taken longer to heal.

Two Loops Capitol to Lincoln

Today, was a fabulous run day.  It was supposed to rain all day, but thankfully the skies cleared up long enough for me to make two loops around the Capitol (back end by the Supreme Court) to the Lincoln Memorial.  This is total of 9 miles and I must say the longest I've run all year.

Seemed the skies cleared up just perfectly in time because it started to rain just as I crossed the finish line.  Came down in drips then in drabbles.

Ran in my flats and felt real light fast like a gazelle.  Being running every day this week -- I'm exhausted but feeling ready, but for what...

Sometimes, I wonder with my busy workload why I run.  In fact, I could be so busy, not even time to sleep or eat, and I would parcel time out of my hectic schedule to burn a few miles or more.

I run because it makes me happy, gives me energy, releases endorphins naturally, provides me an outlet to think, ponder solve the world's problems, and kick that rock when I want to kick all that, cry and not be publicly disgraced, grimace and scowl at world issues as if I could sweat it all away -- and most important of all, to enjoy God's grace and thankfully stay strong and in shape. 

Since I have never been a skilled athlete all my life, and have twice torn my ACL when playing in group sports, running is something I can do and am not as much prone to injury since I control where I go (unless there's a dog chasing me or I'm running a traffic light and cars are coming my way).

Don't have to worry about blocking that shot or catching that pass -- it's me running amidst everyone else, in the middle of a crowded mall but alone and thinking by myself personally proud of reaching that pinacle that milestone, even if no one else around me cares or even wants to know. It's me, it's mine today and for eternity and it means the world to me, twice over. 

Ran with my new music playlist on my new shuffle (my 5th one I ever owned because the previous four were ditched or lost or perhaps lifted -- no, people, I believe, are honest in this world)

Fast pace music got my heart pumping -- I'm ready to run and roll. Gotta get those sappy, love songs out of there (Carpenters, Air Supply. Elton John).  

Getting ready for the National next Sat.  I'm excited and am running not for a specific cause but for all causes -- and yes, of course -- for myself.  Running is indeed self-centered.

Taking Chance -- A Tribute to Our War Heroes

Phil Murphy-Sweet

Some movies make an immediate impact on you. Some movies impact you for a lifetime.

Today, Colin and I just finished watching "Taking Chance" on HBO. It's a sad story about a Marine Lt Col who escorts the remains of PVC Chance Phelps home.

I am not sure whether Colin has ever seen a grown man cry, much less watch his father sob relentlessly.

The last time I remember crying with Colin was at his birth at the Balboa Naval Medical Center in San Diego.

And 11 years later, on this listless, grey day, the tear gates unlocked and my heart cried open.

"Taking Chance" is such a simple, thoughtful movie, it leaves you speechless.

It is not a flag-waving war movie that highlights the romanticism of war. Nor is it a sober critique that epitomizes the pain of a fallen soldier.

Instead it is about respect extended toward the casket by drivers, pilots and people of all stripes.

You never even see a picture of Chance Phelps. You never hear about what sports he played, his high school sweetheart, his buddies in Iraq.

In many ways, the kid with a bubbling personality and a moving story is all wrapped up and anonymous.

He is just like any American son or daughter who is a tragic casualty of the never-ending war on terror.

There is no politics, no agenda except to put a face on those who died and those who the took the call to bring them home.

Kevin Bacon portrays Lt Col Michael Strobl who volunteered to bring Chance home. Kevin plays the role so well that when he clearly wants to cry, but being on call cannot find a way to shed a tear, the audience cries out for him.

Why This Movie Touched Me:

In 2007, I was saddened to hear the loss of my school mate, Phil Murphy-Sweet. Cmdr Murphy-Sweet died from injuries from an improvised explosive device (IED) explosion in Baghdad.

I was completely stunned. Phil left behind a wife and three children, and I feel compassionate and deeply sorry to his family, even if I had never met them.

I've known Phil long before he started a family.

In 1986, for 18 brutal months we suffered and persevered through a highly intense academic and physical training regimen called Broadened Opportunities for Officer Selection and Training (BOOST).

The rigorous military training proved our mettle and brought us closer -- a band of brothers, a band of Sailors.

During the school year, I didn't see Phil that much. We were in separate companies residing in different barracks and when not working out, I was always hitting the books. I had no choice; I was scared to death that I would fail and get sent "back to the Fleet."

I wished I saw Phil more, and I feel especially close to him now.

I get especially emotional every time I see or hear about one of our own who didn't make it back home alive.

When I worked at Bethesda (2003--2005), I visited a lot of Wounded Warriors. Two Marines I had the honor to meet came back alive but tragically died under care from wounds sustained in Iraq.

I remember them distinctly. Their faces of grace, their looks of determination, the desperate looks from their families. I'll always remember them dearly, and I'll never stop thanking them.

Today Phil is buried in our Nation's most sacred shrine, and like all the War Heroes who have come home to rest, I can always pay tribute to them in person and through prayers.