Open Water Swim

Today, I went for a swim twice...

Once in the pool:

My routine swim at GWU Lerner Center was incredible. My stroke technique -- crisp; Elbow bend: 90 degrees, Reach: nice and deep; Breathing: every third stroke.

And once in the Reflecting Pool:

Running breathlessly on ice from the reverend WW II to the majestic Lincoln was just plain incredulous. What was unbelievable was that the ice was only just over an inch deep or less in many places. Science and logic were both dispelled this day.

I tried to stay on the white ice and avoid if possible the thinner, transparent ice. Tried hard but on the upteemth time.

Until I could hear the ominous sound of cracking progressing to a major fault directly under my feet. Hear the sound of ice cracking. And I went for a dive in the Reflecting Pool right under the guise of Abe Lincoln.

I Found a New Sport

Reflecting

I'm still nursing my IT band injury from my Cancun Half Iron and have been trying to run as much as I can, weather permitting.

What causes the IT band to inflame is whenever my foot bends too far inward after impact, it causes friction and my IT band is not able to stabilize my leg.

Jesus Walked on Water

"Test the Ice first, then in life, go for the Gusto"

Reflecting

I've had a lot of great runs abroad and here in DC.

This Christmas eve evening I had the most amazing and thrilling run of my life.

Understanding

It wasn't supposed to be the GREAT run. After all, my goal was to visit and enjoy the Tree -- the Colorado Blue Spruce that has adorned the center of the Ellipse every Christmas since 1978. I wanted to learn more about the meaning, the history and why it was called the Pageant of Peace.

The first National Christmas Tree lighting was made by President Calvin Coolidge in 1923. Over the years, the tree has stood as a symbol of good will and peace and the person given the honor of "flipping the switch" have ranged from celebrities, elected officials to children representing humanitarian organizations.

Inspiring

The tree is amazing -- after all it has served six presidents: Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, GW Bush, Obama. Around the Nation's Christmas Tree are 56 smaller trees -- one for each state and, DC and the 5 territories.

Little did they know in 1978, when the tree was donated, that this particular tree would live for so long.

The meaning of "Pageant of Peace" is particularly poignant this year, with our troops serving in harm's way overseas -- I pray that they will come back home safely soon.

Innovating

What was new with the tree this year, was the fact that GE has provided LED lights from top to bottom that are much more energy efficient as well as many ornaments from last year-- a great example for all to Reduce, Reuse and Recycle.

Negotiating

But then I stumbled upon the Capitol Reflecting Pool. In warmer times, the Pool is peaceful and calm and designed to inspire solemnity and reflection. However, as much as I've wanted to go for a dip, I never did -- the water was usually too dirty (too many ducks)

But today, there is no reflection on the shiny surface -- since it's all covered in ice (And no ducks anywhere). In my seven years in DC, I've never seen anything like this before. Not knowing when I would get another chance, I wanted to go out for a walk on it.

But could it be really frozen throughout or just parts of it. Water is most dense at about 38 degrees F. As the water in the bottom cools, it rises to the top. As water cools, it expands thus creating a layer of ice that is less dense than water. Ice floats because of hydrogen bonding (less dense than liquid).

I knew that the temps in DC had stayed below that all week, after the blizzard, and since the pool was rather shallow -- knee to waist deep, it wouldn't take long for the pond to freeze over.

And yes indeed -- today, the Pool inspired me to live on the edge and run all over the 6,500 square feet reflection pool, on the jagged edge of excitement and vivacity.

At first, the ice looked cracked and unsteady. In places, you could hear the water lapping with that familiar sound of depth against the side of the pool. Perhaps the water at the edge of the pool was deepest to mitigate the formation of waves. But upon further investigation, the ice was solid, at least four inches thick -- enough to hold a 150 pound man. There were spots throughout that were thinner, transparent, some bubbling up with oxygen. I would keep an eye out for them, I added. But before the night was over, I would skate right by the broken ice, oblivious to a thing except the feeling of peace floating in the middle of the lake and the Magnanimity of Christmas and all things good with love, hope and benevolence.

So off I went, running across, from side to side, from corner to corner -- all of a sudden I was a fearless kid again.

I didn't stop for over an hour and a half. Before long, passer bys stopped and joined me. Some went on their own. Some went with a little coaxing. Lo and behold, I had started a Christmas Eve family event.

It was a thrill to run freely, skate casually on the frozen ice. It was tough keeping balance, and when I got tired, I simply skated, moving from side to side.

Christmas Eve at our Nation's Front Lawn

My roommates are gone and I'm all alone for Christmas Eve. No regrets. I get to spend Christmas Eve with my friends on Second Life (Read my post on the benefits and drawbacks of Second Life).

The true joy of this special evening: I'm looking forward to spending Christmas Eve at our Nation's front yard -- catching a delightful earful of sweet melody, the wispy, caressing voices of our eclectic vocalists as they sing Yuletide praise to Jesus.

As I enjoy the aromatic tranquility of the Yule log burning, its sweet red embers sending off plume of ash into the cold, romantic night. clouding the sky and the top of the Washington Monument obelisk.

Then when I get my fill, I am off amongst the toot of a model railroad car and the locomotive, I am off for another run around my circuitous path that takes me to Lincoln, to the Capitol and back.

Christmas in DC

Christmas in DC is not about shopping at Pentagon City, admiring the gargantuan palm trees adorned with sparking Christmas decor and staring straight up to the sky through the massive glass ceiling, making you feel like you're outdoors without the wintry freeze.

Christmas in DC is not about strolling through the National Zoo enjoying the dazzling display of the Giant Pandas, the Asian Elephants and the Komodo Dragons during the festive ZooLights.

Christmas in DC is not about endless parties in Adams Morgan, or bebopping to holiday jazz on eclectic U Street while enjoying half smokes at the historic Ben's Chili Bowl

Instead, Christmas in DC is about the one thing that is both traditional and contemporary, deeply rooted in Presidential history and Washingtonian heritage. Around the perfectly-trimmed, paragon Christmas tree -- a 87-year tradition, a large-scale model train loops around sounding a low pitch steam whistle with lights, bells and the festive music emanating from the stage.


In 1921, on Christmas Eve, President Calvin Coolidge lit the tree located at the Ellipse in front of the White House with a simple touch of button that instantly lit several hundred electric light bulbs.  Today, more environmentally-conscious LED lights adorn the Norway Spruce each year we call the "Nation's very own tree."

Christmas in DC is all about the culture, celebrations and customs that has made the fine, fab festivities so delightful, delectable and unique -- the National Christmas Tree -- our Nation's own and only Christmas tree to enjoy, adorn and embrace.

Dulles Snow Debacle

Reflecting

I remember Feb 03 distinctly -- I was of all things going house hunting and this major "President's Day" snowstorm paralyzed the Eastern Seaboard for days that no one was going anywhere. The Pentagon loved the fact that I was living in the Metropolitan apartments in Pentagon City -- and was the dude that could always come in.

We had not had any major snow storms for years since -- in 2007, we had virtually none. Most years we would have two significant snowfalls (more than 3 inches) and a couple times with just flakes that appear so soft and delicate as they fall, some stick, some just disintegrate.

That's why the Blizzard of 09 completely caught me off guard.

I had agreed over a week ago to take my friend to Dulles, so she could fly to Colombia. "Sure thing," I said. "I'd be glad to."

Little did I know that this seemingly easy trip to Dulles would turn into a 20-hour historic Christmas exodus ordeal.

Understanding

Her flight was scheduled to leave at 3:30 PM on Avianca to Bogota, Colombia. By mid-morning, I knew that this flight would not take off today.

Speaking with my friend on the phone, I told her that I would be glad to take her to the airport, however, I don't suggest going today but recommended going first thing in the morning instead.

However, Avianca instructed us that the flight was scheduled to leave on time, and if we didn't show up at the airport, my friend would miss her flight and she would not be rebooked.

We looked out the window and was shocked to see the snow coming down like golf balls in an overcrowded driving range, some being thrown as hard as a Nolan Ryan fastball.

Thankfully I had a Subaru Baja AWD, and I knew my car could handle well in the snow. It was a risk, but I felt we could handle this.

Negotiating

I asked my friend to keep on calling both Avianca and the Washington Metropolitan Airport Authority to see if we could get an update in the next few minutes. A cancellation would be good news because we would avoid having to make the dreaded 27-mile trip to Dulles until perhaps tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile, I headed outside to prep the vehicle. My Subaru was almost completely snowed in and it took me a good, intense 30 minutes just to pry myself out.

After I picked my friend up in Anacostia, we crawled down South Capitol St and entered cautiously a snow-ruined highway. We were aghast turning as white as the puffy elements that blanketed the isolated freeway -- nothing much had been cleared -- this was no man's land and the chances of us making to Dulles on time or even at all had suddenly come into serious question.

Over the 14th Street Bridge, we tried to take a shortcut via the GW Parkway. But there were too many skidding vehicles at the exit ramp -- the whole scene resembled a stock car derby at a muddy racetrack. We slowed to ask if everything was alright -- no it didn't seem so -- the people there were all in a trance. We decided to continue on 395 South instead -- the longer, but more surer route.

Despite the harsh conditions, I wasn't feeling all that stressed. Actually the constant rain of flow of tender chunks of snow felt calming, warming and in many ways, carthartic.

Within several miles, the traffic completely came to a slow, painful, dreadful crawl. Apparently a semi had gotten stuck several miles ahead and everyone behind him was paying the price of slowly chugging along, feeling the intense cold wind and keeping our eyes peeled as the visibility had plummeted -- even the car several feet ahead of us seemed like a distant blur.

I used this downtime to check my Iphone. I searched Twitter to see what people were saying about delays. "No flights are leaving Dulles," stated a post -- I appreciated the real time information from desperate travelers like us. Wouldn't it be nice if some innovative traveler on Avianca could tweet their latest info and broadcast the obvious.

Thankfully, we managed to peel ourselves from the virtual parking lot and before long, we had made it to 495 North, heading to Tyson's Corner.

That's when my friend called Avianca once more. This time, Avianca informed her that the flight had actually departed and that she would have to pay a penalty of over $1,oo0 to rebook for a flight that leaves Dulles the day after Christmas.

She was almost in tears...

I was livid. First I was feeling remorseful since it appeared that my friend would not be able to spend Christmas with her family -- the family that she had not seen in a few years.

Then I was in an utter state of shock. I glanced over to my friend who instructed me to radically alter course and set a Bee line for home. At this point, there was no point in even showing up at Dulles, despite the fact that we were only 15 minutes away.

As I continued driving north towards Bethesda, I started questioning the status and motive provided by Avianca. With the constant gush of snow and blizzard winds gusting to 40 MPH, it was physically impossible for the plane to depart.
Then I started questioning the motive once more -- perhaps Avianca knew the real status of the flight but decided to withhold it from their customers , in hopes of gouging them for more money. After all, how would their customers know whether a flight did depart on time at all.

In no time, we were approaching Exit 45 towards the airport. But my friend instructed me to head back -- for a moment she had given up hope -- all hope of seeing her family this Christmas.

The drive towards Bethesda and down Connecticut towards Adams Morgan went rather smoothly, albeit painfully. The snow continued to come down fast and furious and it was now starting to get dark, making matters a lot worse.



It was then that I decided to call the Washington Metropolitan Airport Authorities to see if they could give us an update on our flight. We were amazed and overjoyed to hear that the flight was still on the tarmac, regardless of what Avianca had said.

The flight was now delayed to 6:30 PM. We could still make it to the airport, but we would have to start from scratch since we were already back home in DC.

The second time around was rather interesting -- the storm was even more intense and there were times when we hit a patch of snow, we started to drift only to have my rear wheels gain traction and stop us from fishtailing (Thank God for AWD -- All Wheel Drive).

After making a few wrong turns and driving methodically down the Dulles Tollroad, we were finally at the airport by 7:30 PM, after navigating the roads for over five hours -- we were dead tired, our bodies as rigid as the snowed turned ice that piled up like dwift wood on both sides of the highway.

My friend tried to check in at Avianca, while I went to park at the garage. Unfortunately, the counter was closed and so were the checkpoints. Even the departure listings did not mention the Avianca Bogota flight. There was a complete dearth of information -- we felt we were lost in a foreign country with no directions or currency. Luckily my friend ran into some Colombians who happened to be on her flight. They informed her that they were told by Avianca to be at the counter by 5:00 AM the next day. We were relieved and for once, we we were set free.

With this information, we settled in at Harry's Tap Room and were fortunate to be the very last customers before they closed. All they had was chicken tenders, fries and soup -- and at this rate, it tasted like we were being rewarded with a five-course meal. Plus the Harry's ale was nice and was exactly what the Doctor ordered on this long, cold night.

It was now 10:00 pm, and we had several hours to kill before showtime at the counter. Walking around the airport was depressing -- people were spread out everywhere. Lying listlessly on the floor, every corner, every seat accounted for. Even the shoe shine chair was been used for someone to take a nap, while his iMac sat delicately on his lap.

Plus it was bright, loud and absolutely zero privacy. I peered inside the USO and it was crowded with Soldiers and Marines -- many heading to Afghanistan -- resembled the tight, canned berthing on an LST (Landing Ship Tank)

We were fortunate to make our way to the Subaru which was as cold as a huge block of ice in an New England fish market, but the garage offered the quietude and solitude not found anywhere inside the terminal. For a moment we were alone and images of the snow-strewn highway were now distant and slipping.

The next morning we were up at 3:30 AM. Our faces were beet red and our noses were as cold and bright as Rudolph's.

It was a special day: "Feliz Cumpleanos!," I said. She smiled at the irony of spending the first part of her Birthday in the car. "Thanks, I almost forgot," she said. It could only get better from here, she insisted -- this was her day--may her biggest wish come true.

We were the first ones at the counter. Around us, a sea of people, some sleeping, many in a daze. And after much push-back, haggling and negotiation, Avianca manifested my friend on the first flight leaving Dulles. They pushed back heavily at first, saying that the manifest was already sent to Colombia. But we didn't buy that story. We along with a few others told our compelling story and finally convinced Avianca to allow my friend to board the first flight (her original plane) rather than wait for the second one.

Inspiring

As I waited and watched my friend negotiate with the managers, I noticed someone in the corner of my eye -- someone I didnt know, but someone I recognized on the cover of a magazine. As I always do, in moments like these, I walked up and said. "Aren't you runners? Weren't you on Runners World?" Yes indeed, it was Matt and Adriana who two years ago graced the covers of Runners World.


It was great to meet them in person. I knew and remembered them, I felt that I knew them as friends. Matt told me that they were heading to Colombia to work on support a project for their High Cloud non profit organization. I thought their work had a great vision and was very inspiring -- what a great timing to see them and coincidentally on the same plane as my friend.

It was at this time that I knew that everything would be ok.
In a way, Matt and Adriana were like angels bringing good tidings in a time of distress and hopelessness.

Navigating

After we got the boarding pass, we informed the airlines that they were irresponsible in holding onto the flight despite knowing the severity of the weather and the slim chances of the snowfall clearing.

They could have made things easier and put less people at risk if they had simply canceled the flight first thing in the morning -- it was a lesson learned indeed, one starting with the patronization of Avianca (never again) and a complete reaffirmation of the RUNIN model: to Reflect, Understand, Negotiate, Innovate and Navigate -- tackling this very huge snow problem and ensuing massive delays.

The key was that we were persistent realists who complied with Avianca's erroneous call. However, we did our own research and called their bluff.

Meanwhile we know that United, Delta and all the big carriers had canceled their flights in the morning and often times automatically rebooked their passengers -- this is the right way of treating your customers, even if it affects their revenue -- safety is paramount and the right thing to do.

Later that day, when I was driving back, I stopped by the Capitol. The Snow had blanketed the Mall creating a terrain that was foreign but beautiful. I tried to dive in it, splash around in it, run in it -- but the layer was too deep, I wouldn't make any traction -- it was like ocean foam on a giant wave without the surf.

Quietly, I surrendered to the safe confines of my vehicle, glad that my friend had boarded the plane, glad that we had made it back safely and smarter knowing that the next decision would only be made with more experience, more rounded and thus more wiser.

* Photo from Loudon Times

Danny Cahill is the Biggest Winner

Reflecting

It wasn't long ago -- Last July, I had the honor to do some calisthenics with Danny Cahill and spend some quality time chatting about life and life's goals when the reality TV show came to DC to film. Link to July blog At that time Danny had already lost a hefty 80 pounds and was very optimistic about the rest of program and how much he could potentially lose. I was excited for him, but knew that he had a long and painful road ahead.

I knew that Danny would make a strong and substantial impact on my life, but never this huge.

Understanding

Last night while flipping through channels, I was extremely pleased and wonderfully surprised to see that Danny won the Biggest Loser Contest. Danny had shed a record 239 pounds, a record for the series.

Needless to say, I am flabbergasted! Although he is now a totally different man, I'm sure he is just as spirited and driven as he was back in August, if not more so.

Negotiating

I was just in the right place at the right time. I was running by -- already on my feet for five hours -- decided to do one more pass by the Washington Monument. That's when I ran into Danny.

Inspiring

I always knew Danny would do well, but never thought that he would be the one to lose the most amount of weight. I couldn't wait for the show to air in Sept and followed him -- in many ways he had become my inspiration to run a half Iron in Cancun.

Navigating

One of my favorite quotes from Grey's Anatomy: "Once in a while, people will surprise you, and once in a while they may even take your breath away."

As Christmas Nears, A Run Thru Georgetown Appears

Reflecting

Today I worshipped the gravel grounds--the routine run from the Wall to WW II to the Wash Monument -- the same rugged trails that I had hit a million times or more since I discovered running as my calling, my ancient ritual.

Understanding

For some mysterious reason, I decided to break away. Not to the ubiquitous Capitol and back today. Made my way along the Potomac, under the Memorial Bridge--Boom, Bada Bing, Bada Boom -- the rhythmic sound of traffic rolling overhead and passing JFK until DC's oldest city was within sight and reach.

Negotiating

Ran along the Georgetown waterfront, watching the locals and tourists strolling along with nothing particular in their minds that day, or enjoying a meal or sipping a margarita in the many open bars and restaurants thinking beautiful thoughts, I'm sure.

Then across the C & O Canal and up the red-brick hill, steep and sudden ushering in old Georgetown with all its high-end shops and restaurants galore. The sweet herb garden smell of something tasty emanating from a nearby Italian kitchen -- all the motivation in the world to make me stop and taste the fettucini. Thankfully I had no money, so I told myself that I had no choice but to push on.

Inspiring

The run was eloquent and eye opening. Ran past the eyes of the world, our venerable embassies: Mongolia, Venezuela; then past historic homes and mansions: Old Stone Cottage before I merged onto Pennsylvania Avenue to George Washington University and Foggy Bottom. From there, I stayed on Penn, passing the World Bank and IMF before I entered Lafayette Square next to the White House.

Navigating

Today was indeed a glorious day -- A day to profoundly wonder my mission in life and my vision for life's future. As I start preparing for the busy Holiday season, I'm glad I took time out to enjoy life's simple pleasures. I'm glad I decided to break away -- be free and roam a part of this town I rarely venture but hope to eventually get to know.

On this Grateful Day

"The inputs from those who serve must be threaded with the views from the decision makers on the Hill and molded in with the thoughts and minds of those who we serve."

Reflection

Veterans Day is full of Reflection. At least during my last 20 years of service it was a day of contemplation and tribute. But this Veterans Day, in a sense is nostalgically new.

It is the first Remembrance day that I am commemorating without the honor of donning a uniform.

Understanding

This Veterans Day, like anyday, we must try to better understand the diversity of our Armed Forces -- it is full of color, creeds and culture and it is as muti-modal as the Cyberspace World that we thrive in.

Negotiation

It is important that we listen to our judicious soldiers: From the Frontline General to the deck seaman or buck private, their informed inputs from how we strategize the war to the most fundamental aspects of quality of life will shape our Military and our Country here and now.

The inputs from those who serve must be threaded with the views from the decision makers on the Hill and molded in with the thoughts and minds of those who we serve.

Innovation

This week is especially somber due to the tragedy of Ft Hood. It is unfortunate that the system allowed Hassan to slip through a highly-regarded Uniformed Services medical school and internship at one of our Nation's core hospital for our returning wounded.


Not only had Hassan given a presentation titled "The Koranic World View as it Relates to Muslims in the U.S. Military"in which he recommended that DoD allow Muslim Soldiers the option of being released as "Conscientious objectors."  Hassan had also come to the attention of federal authorities because of internet postings he alleged made discussing suicide bombings and other threats.

Still there is courage under fire. The commendation goes to the immediate and well-managed response by the Ft Hood leadership especially with their full and untethered embrace of social media to inform and inspire.

By that evening on that fateful day, the US Army and LTG Cone was on the horn sending constant snippets of salient information on Twitter that provided welcomed, unbounded peace in a chaotic whirlwind of bitter terror.

Navigate

As we look forward, we must remember their sacrifices as well as the lessons that their notable acts of humanity afforded. What we do now with the ensuing war against the Taliban, al-Qaeda and those who want to do harm against the country that I call home will determine how joyous or remorseful we commemorate Veterans Day in years to come.

In honor of my three close friends who gave their all, so that we might enjoy what we especially have today:

CDR Phil Murphy-Sweet

Major Megan McClung

LT Florence Choe

RUNIN the Name

So what is RUNIN and why are there so many applications to this name? Contrary to what you may believe, RUNIN does not refer to the art of running (although there are many commonalities).  RUNIN is actually a back acronym:

Reflecting on Relationships

Reflection starts with oneself but does not stop there—it is looking at the surface as well as probing deeper beyond. It is about understanding your abilities and capabilities as well as being open about your mistakes and your shortcomings. When looking inward during the process of reflection, the point is to figure out where one stands in relation to the world. In order for these lessons to be valuable, we must consider those around us, and we should be open to share as well as learn from others.

Reflecting on Relationships is about seeing the interconnectedness of many things. This principle is about realizing that many things in life are truly connected-- the situations, events, and decisions of today be synched and in balance and this health-work-life continuum has a direct impact on our future. Reflection can also mean spirituality -- your daily quest to prepare your mind and body for inspiration and enlightenment. As you observe your reflection, other images will emerge—those of the lives around you.

Reflecting also applies to Remembering our history and to appreciate the sacrifices and achievements of those who have came before us and who has made a significant difference in our lives. Remembering also includes understanding mistakes of the past, both your own and those from other people who we can learn from.

Personally, I am a lumper and not a clumper. To clump is to put things in individual boxes, compartmentalize and then relegate core elements in life to labels and stereotypes. In contrast, to lump is to remove walls, to appreciate the value of "one village" and to change the integrity of the things that are being brought together.

Understanding and Uniting

Another important value is to understand the world and the community around you. First we should try to understand others before trying to be understood. When visiting a tenant, it is important to not just collect rent or to check on the property, but to get to know them and learn about their community through the stories they have to tell. We listen, we understand, we learn, we UNITE.

Negotiating 
In life, whatever hand you’re dealt is the hand that you have to play. However don't just submit it's worth to face value -- find it's true value and then negotiate it with other players. Before acting you should weigh every option. It makes it more difficult but in return, you get more out of life. I don’t like hearing people say we should do something a certain way because it has always been that way. In Runin’s approach, there are no set ways to approach a problem all the time – one size does not fit all, and life is too important to not try on another suit.

A decision should be made through negotiation but the numbers also need to be checked, refined and considered. Numbers is not just for balance sheets. It also connotes time, number of calories expended, distance to travel, etc.

If your numbers are not balanced, then your plans may fall into rocks.

Inspiring to Innovate

Innovation is not just about machines, technology and hardware. It is about people, ideas and software. Innovation is about sharing and tapping into people’s ideas -- a process we know today as Social Media. If people are using the internet in the same way that they were a few years ago, then they are behind the power curve. Web 2.0 means that the internet as an efficiency tool has drastically improved and we are just in the early stages. Social media is about leveraging people’s ideas and sharing it freely and instantaneously across the world.

Navigating

Onboard a ship, When you’re navigating, you are taking regular fixes to try and determine where you are. In life, people are not on a fixed course. Part of navigating is being OK with changing your course even if it means turning 180 degrees. There are times when you will realize that you are going in the wrong direction; it is OK to turn around as long as you don’t run aground and incur any permanent, significant damages.

Runin in unison with Back on My Feet

Reflecting

I am still excited about running into friends and fans of Back on my Feet (BOMF) during the mega-fun Marine Corps Marathon two weeks ago. They spoke to me about the great features of this inspirational and purposeful program. In a sense BOMF and RUNIN share many similar principles and values.

Understanding
Back on My Feet gives the homeless a second chance to regain control of their lives. The program's mission also exemplifies several of Runin DC's core values. The first of these is "reflecting on relationships" or seeing how we are all connected. Back on My Feet is not a handout; it is about partnerships and seeing ourselves in others. While running and training, the homeless and the trainers support and challenge each other to strive higher.

Back on My Feet is also about "understanding" or empathizing with people--no matter how different they may appear at first glance.

The neat thing about running is that it is a great equalizer. When we're running hard up a hill, it doesn't matter what socioeconomic status you come from. You are working extremely hard -- rich, middle class, or poor -- all of us have to climb the same hill and have to rely on our God-given strengths and stamina to do it.

Negotiating

The next value is "negotiation," which is exemplified by Back on My Feet's emphasis on goal setting. Participants of the program--both trainers and homeless runners--make a commitment to themselves and each other. This is an especially meaningful decision for the runners, who examine their current lot in life and ultimately know that they can do better.

Innovating and Inspiring

Their response is to commit to running a few miles each day as early as 6am. The "innovation" value is illustrated in the uniqueness of the idea itself. Back on My Feet shows that love for humankind and strength of spirit has endless applications.

Navigating

Finally, RUNIN is about "Navigation." Likewise Back on My Feet will help the homeless strive to finish the run, train for the next race and aspire to get back on their feet and become both customers and contributors to this great social running continuum.

Marine Corps Marathon Crystal City Run

Talking Back on My Feet

Back on My Feet is Coming Soon

I had the pleasure to meet Anne Mahlum, Lauren Williams, Autumn Campbell and the wonderful staff during the Back on My Feet inaugural social at the Union Pub on Thursday. And during the run, I had the fortune to run into Rick Amernick of DC Capital Striders and Maria de la Torre talk about the great features of this inspirational and purposeful program that encourages everyone to run together, regardless of race, education or socioeconomic status.

First Marathon and 100 More

Rookie 70-Year-Old Marathoner

Miles of Hope

Paul Kelly broke his neck 32 years ago in a swimming pool. Today, he is racing in the 34th Marine Corps Marathon.

Paul understands what our Wounded Warriors are going through. But he is not racing for himself. He has a deep and profound indebtness to our Heroes and has set out to handbike over 2008 miles to raise awareness and money for our Wounded Warriors and their families.

Please check out his story below:

MCM Miles of Hope

Team Travis

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Travis Manion "Brave Kid with a Big Heart"

Carrie Prendergast has never met Travis Manion, the ambitious Marine 1st. Lt. who was killed by enemy sniper fire in the Al Anbar province of Iraq on April 29, 2007. But she shares several common attributes. A former Marine, who comes from the same hometown of Doylestown, PA., Carrie also believes strongly in the core leadership principles of Courage, Loyalty and Integrity.



Travis graduated from the US Naval Academy in 2004 and finished at the top of his class in Quantico. As part of 1 Marine Expeditionary Force in Camp Pendleton, Calif., Travis deployed to Iraq in 2005.

Shortly after returning home, Travis was selected to become part of a military transition team that would be attached to an Iraqi Army Battalion in Fallujah.

The following excerpt is attributed to Travis' Hero Card:

"Manion and his fellow Marines labored diligently to change the outcome in Fallujah, building a brotherhood with the Iraqi Army units and setting the example with strong leadership.

He and his fellow Marines aggressively took the battle to the enemy on multiple missions while mentoring their Iraqi counterparts. On March 19, 2007, his vehicle was attacked by an improvised explosive device. Though disoriented from the attack, Manion checked for secondary devices, and then led the pursuit to the triggerman. Once identified, he personally apprehended the suspect. On March 27, 2007, he exposed himself to enemy small arms fire on multiple occasions in order to physically position and direct the return fires of his Iraqi soldiers during a complex enemy attack. On March 28, he immediately responded to a suicide vehicle-borne IED attack on the Iraqi Barracks at the Fallujah Government Center. Despite ongoing enemy small arms fire, indirect fire, two suicide vest attacks, a second suicide-vehicle-borne IED, and the heavy presence of chlorine gas, he repeatedly endangered himself by entering the damage barracks to remove casualties, and then by positioning and directing the fires of Iraqi soldiers on the rooftop of the Government Center.

Manion and his fellow Marines fought courageously to change the tide in this critical battle ground. As a result of their efforts, Al Anbar Province is now recognized as one of the more significant successes of the surge in Iraq.

On April 29, 2007 during his final patrol mission, Manion made the ultimate sacrifice.

His patrol was concluding a search of a suspected insurgent house when it came under precision small arms fire attack. With the corpsman seriously wounded by enemy fire and the attack developing in to a full-scale ambush, Manion and a fellow Marine exposed themselves to increasing fire to pull the corpsman out of the kill zone.

After recovering the corpsman and administering first aid, Manion led his patrol in a counter attack personally eliminating an enemy position. As he continued to direct the patrol, another Marine was wounded. He again moved across the kill zone, under fire by five insurgents, to recover the wounded Marine. Iraqi Army reinforcements were halted by an IED and were unable to advance on the flank of the insurgents, leaving Manion and his patrol to take fire from three sides.

While fearlessly exposing himself to gain a more advantageous firing position and drawing enemy fire away from the wounded Marines, Manion was fatally wounded by an enemy sniper.

His courageous and deliberate actions inspired the eventual counter attack and ultimately saved the lives of every member of his patrol, according to his medal citation.

“He wouldn’t put anyone in a situation he would not be in himself first,” said David Borek, his brother-in-law and close friend.

Manion was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star with Valor and the Silver Star for his heroic actions in Iraq.

As a true testament to how much Manion was admired, the Iraqis named their new headquarters Combat Outpost Manion in honor of him.

Keeping the spirit of his selfless nature alive, The Travis Manion Foundation was created and continues his mission to assist the families of Fallen Heroes and wounded veterans, according to Janet Manion, his mother and executive director of the foundation.

“He was a kid with a big heart, never had a bad word for anyone,” said Tom Manion, his father. “He was all heart; that is who he was.”

Excerpts from articles by Gary Weckselblatt, Bucks County Courier Times, Nov. 29, 2008; by Kenneth Harbaugh with MissionContinues.org; and The North Shore Journal.

A Sister Runs to Remember

Growing up in Lubbock, Texas, Monica Velez looked out for her two brothers, Jose and Andrew.

Acting as a surrogate Mom, the three siblings ran with their Dad who ran almost daily around their rural community in Lubbock, Texas. Running was their passion and what bound the four together.

Photo courtesy of Deborah Cannon, AMERICAN-STATESMAN

In Nov 2004, Cpl Jose "Freddy" Velez was killed by a sniper's bullet in Fallujah. His brother Spc. Andrew Velez who was serving in southern Iraq, identified Freddy's body and accompanied him home..

After Andrew arrived in Afghanistan in 2006, he killed himself with a machine gun.

In a period of 18 months, Monica had lost her two brothers who she had loved and admired so much.

There's never a difficult or challenging time that she doesn't think of them. And today during the Marathon, she will remember and appreciate their sacrifices they made for their country.

Monica wants to raise awareness on the plight of those who have lost a sibling, what some call "disenfranchised grief."

Thanks to the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS), Monica has been able to not only get counseling from the VA, but has also been able to go online to reach out and share with TAPS's large network of siblings.

Running with Monica at Mile 4

Food Poisoning at Fiesta DC

The Three Tall Steeples of Columbia Heights


Above: Three beautiful churches pictured behind a group of families at the DC Fiesta. From left to right are: All Souls Unitarian Church, Peace King Center of the Unification Church, and the National Baptist Memorial Church

I had never been to a DC Fiesta. I had not had a chance to enjoy the festivities of this homegrown Latino festival held annually in the charming and historic Columbia Heights neighborhood.

Columbia Heights, like the rest of the city along 14th and U Street, was destroyed during the 1968 riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.

Mount Pleasant is an idyllic cultural center located in the heart of the Adams Morgan, Columbia Heights historic triangle. It has quaint residential streets filled mostly with the middle class and many immigrant families from El Salvador.

Read about my previous run through Adams Morgan and Mount Pleasant

Well I had a great time watching the Flamenco dancing and feeling the hot rhythm of salsa. People seemed to be enjoying themselves and enjoying the great vibe and festive atmosphere.

It was also great to see the city there: Metropolitan Police, Department of Health, Office of Latino Affairs, and even Councilmember Jim Graham who was out meeting with his constituents.

In light of the scandal with Graham's chief of staff, it was good to see him out in the city showing support for the festival and the attendees.

What Happened:

I was feeling great until I got something to eat...

It was around 4:30 PM, when the vendors were starting to wrap things up. I saw a sign for a chicken sandwich, chips and a drink special for $4.00. In retrospect, I should have been more cautious when buying from a vendor who was in a hurry to close shop for the day.

I agreed to buy the sandwich and was surprised when I was handed a chicken salad sandwich instead of a chicken breast sandwich.

Still, I was so busy taking pictures and enjoying the festival that I scoffed down the sandwich, not even thinking twice -- the grim truth is that I wished I had long and hard about it and the risk of eating anything made with mayonnaise sold by a vendor that was not a licensed restaurant.

It hit me almost right away -- feeling queasy from the chicken and mayo. Still I pushed on and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

But by 7:00 PM, I was home and downtrodden.

It started with stomach cramps, then nausea, then vomiting and it continued through the night until the cramps picked up a notch and I started feeling cold spells.

Shall I Go to the ER?

I've had food poisoning before -- the last time earlier this summer when I ate undercooked salmon.

But never in my life had I suffered from food poisoning this severe with symptoms so painful and unbearable. This was the worst abdominal pain I've received since my appendicitis ruptured in 1994.

So unbearable that at 2:30 AM, I had enough and drove myself slowly and methodically to the Washington Hospital Center.

On the way there, I threw up again -- my 10th time since getting sick. I had become dangerously dehydrated, not keeping anything in, not even plain water.

I parked at the garage just minutes away, but the walk to the ER seemed long and excruciating.

After waiting for nearly two painful hours in the lobby, I was admitted into a room with a voiceforus patient who was rude and obnoxious.

I never got to see his face -- he was behind a green curtain, and he was yelling and screaming about his body parts almost the entire time we shared a room together.

But I could feel his pain. It was disheartening and my first exposure to a civilian ER (Had always visited a military hospital in the past -- I was now in for a rude awakening.).

Why ER can Help:

When I met the doctor, she ordered a small morphine drip, which along with my IV took away the pain and I started feeling dramatically better almost immediately.

Within two hours--by 0700--I was discharged from the hospital. I wanted to stay a bit longer to get some rest, but they clearly wanted me to go before the next shift started.

So, needless to say, tonight was interesting. I'm glad the ordeal is behind me but I'm also glad to have learned a very good lesson: the memory of the pain alone is enough motivation to steer clear of foods with mayo and stick to drinking beer.

Be careful about what you eat at festivals especially anything prepared with mayonnaise.

Be careful if the vendor is trying desperately to get rid of their goods.

Be careful if the vendor is not a licensed restaurant or from some trusted organization you are familiar with.

Make sure the food has been refrigerated and your chances of getting food poison may be much greater later in the day.

And most of all, don't worry about this happening to you. I'm sure 99% of the vendors at city-sponsored events serve fresh and bacteria-free food.

Read about the cultural, colorful and SAFE cuisine I scoffed down during this year's Cherry Blossom Festival.

Today, I just happened to stumble (no pun intended) on that minuscule one percent.

The Horse Statue of Francis Asbury (1924)

The Five Ironman Goals

My First Half Iron

Bright eyed and Bushy tailed as the sun breaks over the horizon on the golden Cancun Beach of Punta Nizuc.

I awoke at 4:30 AM Sunday morning ready to take on the day. But this day would not be too kind to me.

In fact my training regimen for no other running competition or marathon comes close to the physical and mental demands of what I've gone through the last two months.

Yes, only two months because I really haven't trained hard or hardly at all.

Thanks to my wrist surgery in July at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. Thanks to my 2 week trip to Europe in August. Thanks to starting my Executive MBA at George Washington. Thanks to blogging, real estate, and everything else that's important in my life or perhaps not but tugs on it anyway.

And life goes on. As long as I make it. As long as I don't go down seriously hurt. As long as my bike makes it there and back in one piece. And as long as I finish -- that's what matters. After all, this being my first Half Iron, there was no goal to strive for but to just finish, but respectfully, of course.

So I awoke and took a bite, a bit of breakfast in my room, wondering if what I was stuffing down my throat was sufficient nutrition to take me 70.3 miles in this blistering heat and baking Mexican sun.

Waiting in line to use the potta potty -- but wait, there's a whole ocean ahead and a whole day to waste.

(Note to those participating next year: You don't have to wait in line -- go straight to Wet N Wild and use the restrooms there.)

Waiting patiently for the start of the buzzer. Notice that there is a red cap in our mix. Some racers apparently missed their group but started with us.

The Swim

Actually I felt just about everything I ate just 2 1/2 hours before almost immediately after I jumped into the warm 79 degree bath water.

The swim was a nice beach start in Punta Nizuc adjacent to Wet and Wild Park.

You can see the back of my head (center) as I plunge into the warm, crystal-clear Caribbean.

There was about 2-3 minutes time in between each wave. My wave started at 7:13.

I was in the back of the pack in my age group but on the outside edge.

As soon as the whistle sounded, I took my time to wade in the water, seaweed and scum in the bottom got all churned up and made the water muddy and ranky.

I pushed through and after about 40 feet of wading, it was finally deep enough for me to start swimming.

Once the water started clearing up, I could see bottom, but I could also see the several other swimmers all around me -- yes, my age group was one of the largest one in the competition, and the crowded start made me feel like I was actually back home in the Metro heading to the Navy Yard before a Nats game.

Before long, the pack started to thin out -- probably because of my slow swimming technique as the heat of the pack started to peel away.

That's when I felt it -- breakfast and everything -- a huge front of a cramp like a fast moving storm swept through completely and viciously.

By then I was at the first turn buoy.

I could see one guy clutching at the buoy and then for a fleeting moment the same thought crossed my mind. This is the perfect time for me to stop, take a breather and perhaps even wave my hands in the air for dear life.

I am quitting now. Soon this Ironman would be history and I would spend the rest of the time in Cancun just lying on the beach and dissolving all my pain and frustration.