Turkey Trot So Others Might Eat

Homelessness is a serious problem in DC and the rest of the nation. In 2007, the number of homeless in the US was estimated to be 671,859  (National Alliance to End Homelessness).

It has also been reported that some 1.56 million Americans were homeless at some point in 2009.

So Others Might Eat at 701 O Street, NW., feeds over 800 meals a day.  But it's not just about the chow, it's providing support and service so that they can get back on their feet.

That is why RUNINDC is a strong supporter of programs like Back on My Feet

From the Nov 2009 blog re: Running w/ BOMF

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.

Sasha Bruce Safe Homes is a wonderful program that provides homes for our young people. All of these programs also provide counseling and classes that can lead young people back to a more stable and supportive family situation.

Turkey Trot for Hunger

Who's Picking Up Your Trash? DC Trash Runners and Raising Awareness

"When we're running hard up a hill, it doesn't matter what socioeconomic status you come from."

I had the unique opportunity to run with Donna, Anastasia, Darnell and new friends as we picked up trash along the historic H Street corridor.


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.

Another Normal Sunday at the Mall

Practicing mediation and relaxation in the warm, green carpet of the Mall

Just another typical Sunday -- national community church with guest pastor Zeb Mengistu, pastor of Beza International Church in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

Enjoyed the sermon, his wit and all the laughs he provided everyone at the Union Station theater.

Then made a bee line for the Mall and started on my routine run -- Yup, Capitol, Wash, WW II, Lincoln...You know, the storming normal morning.

The Mall was a hodgepodge of interesting people, causes and characters as you would expect.

Dan Neidhardt is a pretty amazing man.  An artist who lives in the Adams Morgan district, he moved here several years ago from Mississippi. Today, Dan biked 120 miles to Purceville,

a beautfiful rustic community in Loudoun County, Virginia.  What's even more amazing is that Dan is all of 67. 

This is the 2nd time I've run into Dan in a month at the exact same location -- the water fountain next to the WW II Memorial.

Justin Pyle capturing the venerable, timeless beauty of the iconic  Smithsonian Castle

Another fine work of the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, embodying the strength and symbolism of freedom of rights and independence

These meditators were nice enough to let me capture a picture of them reflecting near the Capitol

Playing bocce ball.  The objective is to get the colored balls closest to the white ball.  Interesting game -- first time I've seen, I must admit.

Supporters of democracy in Iran

This picture was taken near the Washington Monument on Independence Ave

After the run, bike (a couple of invigorating loops around Hains Point), and then swimming at Bolling AFB, I felt refreshed and gratified -- it was a superb workout -- another three-peat workout on a cozy Sunday afternoon.

From Cathedral Heights to the Gold Coast

We finally turned east on Garfield onto Woodley running past the elegant Marriott Wardman Hotel at Woodley Park. Crossing Connecticut we headed over the tall and ornate arch bridge overlooking the deep and lush Rockcreek Park onto Adams Morgan.


The amazing thing about this run is that we actually visit eight uniquely diverse DC communities. Not only do we experience rich and historic culture and arts internationally from all over Europe, we also get a healthy dose of culture and lifestyle locally from within the Nation's Capital.


As we pushed onto ethnically-diverse Adams Morgan, a rich and vibrant arts and culture community we could see businesses selling clothing, jewelry and accessories as well as street food vendors selling corn tortillas and pupusas -- delightful and the whiff of the burning wood together with the aroma of grilling meat whetted my appetite.


Once in the heart of Adams Morgan, we turned onto Euclid and pushed on past the dense apartments and rowhouses onto prominent 16th Street, known colloquially as the Gold Coast (because sections of it is lined with 20th century Tudor mansions).

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.

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.

Rome is for Lovers, Not Runners

Rome is not a city for runners. There were no runners, just walkers, as I breezed along Via Nazionale, an old Roman boulevard that pierces through the heart of the government center at 0730 Mon morn.

Perhaps folks in business suits to working suits were just diving back to the work week after a weekend of rest and mass.

But for whatever reason, on this cool, crisp eve of December morning, there were no runners, no, not even joggers out to celebrate the dawn of a new workweek or for me to work off the drunk of a long weekend.

So, I took in early Monday morning Rome all to myself--the Piazza (Venizia) in all its Monday morning grandeur, the Colisseum, which over the last 20 immortal centuries has seen many, perhaps millions of chariot racers, but maybe not nearly as many runners, the Roman Forum where not even my brand new, sparkling running shoes could kick start the Imperial winged-god of Nike to inspire 21st century Romans to participate in man's most primitive sport.

Rome may not be a city for runners, but it is indeed a city to run in. Well, why not for the scores of foothills that teases my legs to shove through, for the bascilica-studded boulevards that pumps a vibrant heartbeat to my heartstream, for the cafe-coddeled cobblestone streets that feels light, moist, and dense--enticing me to further whip off my shoes and run barefoot under the arch of Constantine, just like the ancient Romans did during their spectator-thronged games--do I need to add more?

And the answer did not come freely as I trounced through historic hills laced with ancient clay. But it did flow more freely along with the double-sized mug of frosty draft that unfailably made my stromboli taste like real Italian, the zesty peppers and spicy sausages as if Michelangelo had painted them himself on the ceiling of my mind.

As I took another slice of pizza, loaded with portabellas and zuchini; and as I washed that morsel down with just one more overflowing mug of beer, I looked out my window and screened a mass of pedestrians--all Italian and my guess all authentic lovers of Italian food. They were young, old, my age, guy and girl--diverse in sex and soul but not really in shape and size. And as I took, really my last bite of anchovy and kissed my last pluck of brown olive wrapped in artichoke heart, I digested the sheer fact that these individuals--all more than likely strangers--shared something completely in common.

There were no buckles busting from the seams of gentlemen's waistline like Vesuvius erupting at Pompei.


Instead, I gandered at studded shapes adorned on symmetrical frames chiseled with Italian chins and Mediterranean brows -- that was the common consensus whether young, medium, or old.

This wholesome look did not discriminate either--old, medium or young--it was the look of fresh tomatoes alongside a healthy serving of creamy cottage cheese, baked fresh on a thin slice of flatbread, then sprinkled freely with arregano and mozarella.

Then as I savored my very last gulp of overchilled Italian fresca it exuded warmth like the realization that I finally found the distant truth that indeed Italians and particularly the Romans simply did not have to run. The god of Janus or the goddess of Minerva had somehow blessed them with the flannel and physique of a Roman warrior, or perhaps it was the fact that they were descendants of Romus and Remus, the founding brothers of Rome: who were abandoned by the Tigres River and raised on the milk of wild wolves.

So here you have it -- the answer to life's puzzle--Romans don't run because they don't have to. And the view is just as lovely, and in fact more spectacular if you just go slow.

Boarding plane now to Germany--and yes there's lots of runners there.

Thanksgiving in Atlanta

Today, I flew to Atlanta on the way to Rome and ran the very last part of the Atlanta Thanksgiving Marathon with Jeff through the heart and scenic Atlanta -- one of my favorite cities -- and the one that I have loved since I was a child.

Yes we bandit the run, but considering my flight did not leave DC until 0700, and the Marathon started at 0800, this wasn't bad.

The weather was absolutely superb and the people who ran just as wholesome as hospitable as you might expect.

Then after the run and a cool down, Jeff took me to see the house for the first time and had a very sumptuous and ceremonial Thanksgiving dinner with Liz and family.  

Jeff and I have known each other for a few years since we served in GTMO together.  Shared stories of running in Cuba from the lighthouse to East Caravella and all those wonderful, salty sea stories from back in the day.

Meeting the entire family was a true delight.  It was nice meeting Liz for the very first time (after speaking on the phone for the last 2 plus years) and the children were all very well behaved and impressive.

Liz even asked me to say grace for the entire family which was a deep and true honor.

One of the best Thanksgiving dinners I've had probably since 2001 OEF cruise aboard USS John C. Stennis.

All this and the earlier run and made it to my flight on time to Stuttgart -- wow what a precursor to a joyful and productive trip.