Longer and Longer

(Created by Dr. Michael Pidwirny, University of British Columbia Okanagan, PhysicalGeography.net)

These days everything is getting longer. I'm working longer hours. I'm running longer distances. I'm experiencing longer bouts of leg pain. I'm even taking substantially longer periods of time getting out of bed. All this is minor detail, however, in light of the fact that the days are now getting longer. Tuesday marked the Vernal Equinox.....the first day of Spring. This day usually flies under most people's radar, specially those living in Michigan where warm temperatures and spring-like weather don't arrive until June. Not in my family.

You see, I grew up in a family where such things as the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox rivaled Christmas and birthdays in importance. This was primarily due to my father's weird obsession with the Earth's rotation and how it affects the amount of daylight. Presumably, he once aced a grade school geography test on this very subject and was applauded by the flock of nuns presiding over his education. Forty years later, he still reminds the family of his extensive, yet often irrelevant, knowledge about the longest and shortest days of the year.

As my weekday mileage is getting longer, I can finally admit that the old man's teachings have reached a point of actual relevancy and usefulness. You may be asking yourself what exactly is the Vernal Equinox? My father is glad you asked! Basically, the Spring (or Vernal) Equinox is the point in the Earth's rotation when the days start to get longer. The sun continues to follow a higher and higher path through the sky until it reaches its highest point on the Summer Solstice. The annual change in the relative position of the Earth's axis in relationship to the sun causes the height of the sun to vary in our skies. The sun's height in the sky is also affected by the fact that the Earth is tilted on its axis either toward or away from the center of the sun. During the equinox, however, the axis of the Earth is not tilted toward or away from the sun and the circle of illumination cuts through the poles. I'm sure you can imagine why this bit of fatherly knowledge roused a less than an enthusiastic response from my brother and me. There's nothing like discussion about the tilt of the Earth's axis that brings out the passions in everyone!

The bottom line, every place on earth experienced exactly 12 hours of day light on Tuesday. The model above may be more helpful, if not more painfully dull. From now until June, each day brings a little more sunshine for me to use during training. This meant very little to me as a kid. During my training, however, this news is greeted with much more enthusiasm. One less minute of running in the eerie darkness of Detroit, is warmly welcomed. Fortunately for all you (insert extreme sarcasm), I can explain why this is occurring. I owe it all to the nuns who taught my old man geography. I'm looking forward to the longer days with the longer miles.

Shamrock Morning

As I mentioned in my last post, I've always practiced excessive boasting on St. Patrick's day. Very few can celebrate their name sake the way Patrick's can. Of coarse, by noon most people are so drunk they can't remember their own name. I've accepted the fact that my patron saint is honored by excessive drinking and disorderly behavior. I won't, however, accept the fact that my day-long license to brag about myself has ended.

I'm proud to say, that my dilemma was resolved this morning at 4:15 am. I popped out of bed, threw down an energy gel, strapped on my gear and shamrocked nearly 16 miles. I ran for nearly an hour and a half before the sun came up. By 5 am St. Patrick's day celebrants were unbelievably waiting in line for the Old Shillelagh to open up and start pouring. When the sun finally woke up, I was crossing the bridge onto Belle Isle and witnessed a gorgeous sunrise over the river. I planted a water bottle in some shrubs and pretended it was a water station when I completed the 6 mile loop around the island. Unlike race day, however, there were no people, no cars, no animals, no noise. I could actually hear the current of the river and the splashing of muskrats in the inland ponds. I'm pretty sure I was the only one on that island. I guess that's fitting on a day that's my own. Happy St. Patty's day to you all. That Guinness will taste especially good this evening. Cheers.

St. Patty's Day Dilemma

(Detroit's Corktown neighborhood, March 12, 2006)

St. Patrick's day has always been a significant occassion in my life. Growing up it was a chance to boast to my playground rivals that my name triumphed all others. Other kids shared names with presidents, dignitaries, pop stars and famous athletes, but a saint?.......it doesn't get much higher than that. In a predominate Catholic community, that's one step down from the big guy himself. Needless to say, I always wore my green with pride and celebrated my mixed Irish heritage with green colored cookies and leprechaun pins on my shirt.

Today, this pseudo holiday still plays a big role. I still wear my green. I still hold my head high as a saint presumably does. What has changed is the degree of celebration. Sure, I might still indulge in a green cookie or two on March 17. More likely, however, I'll be washing it down with a Guinness or two, or three, or...... The Guinness might be chased by an Irish Whiskey. While I'm at it, I'll probably have a Bailey's for dessert. St. Patrick's Day is no longer limited to a single day of self-centered bragging; it has become a week long event. I've even picked up a loyal group of fellow celebrants and stretched St. Paddy's love to exotic places like Columbus, Ohio, where the per capita ratio of freckled, red-faced, round bellied Irishmen competes with the likes of downtown Dublin. In fact for the past five years I've been adopted by a good friend's family in a Columbus suburb, appropriately named, Dublin.

"What the hell does all this bloody rambling have to do with running?," you're probably asking in your best Irish accent. Well, I recently sifted through the volumes of information I've received from Team in Training coaches, advisors and mentors regarding the proper means of preparing for this race. There is nothing contained in these documents advising me to drink beer and whiskey until the wee hours of the night, smoke cigars and eat greesy sliders and pizza all weekend. I double checked this information, because these are the activities I habitually engage in to honor my patron saint. I'm not sure exactly how far St. Patrick had to travel to drive all the snakes from the Emerald Isle, but I doubt he did it hung over and with little to no sleep the night before. I've been running my long runs every Saturday morning since I began training. Unfortunately, I've got 16 miles scheduled for March 18. My choices consist of (1) breaking tradition and disappointing a saint; (2) taking on 16 miles and risking a citation for "running under the influence" or (3)rescheduling this run for another date. Tough decision here. Wish me luck.

Fundraising Success

Our fundraiser on Saturday night was an unquestionable success. Not only did we raise a surprising amount of money, we were able to do so and still have a good time. We gave away some valuable prizes (iPod, Tiger tickets & restaurant gift certificates) We also gave away some not-so-valuable prizes including an autographed "shoe with Gu" We crowned a champion of Bubble Hockey and had an impressive come from behind victory in the Trivia Challenge. I had many friends and family in attendance, many of whom I havn't seen in quite some time. My college roomate was represented by his Pops and his brother from Tokyo. All these people brought out some great war stories that have been buried for a while.

A big thanks to all the supporters. A special thanks to the lovely and under appreciated lady by my side throughout the whole night. Guests were greeted by her smiling face and could not resist but to dig into their wallets generously.

"Hey you!"

"It's not too far, it just seems like it is."

(Yogi Berra -- giving directions to Yogi's Hall of Fame Racquetball Club in Fairfield, New Jersey.)

"Hey, you!...Could you tell me how to get to......" I can't tell you how many times this inquiry is thrown at me from moving cars, bicycles, pedestrians, passer-byes and the average clueless person during a run. During the first couple months of training I thought I understood why directionally challenged Detroiters consistently chose me to point them in the right direction. Obviously, a person running through the streets of a city, would likely have a decent idea how not to get lost. This rationale I accepted, and did my best to help people find the ball park, casino, liquor store, or concert hall.

After four months and 350 miles, the interruptions from the wayward and lost are only increasing in frequency. Last week I was flagged down on four separate occasions during a 7 mile run, each time by teenage, floppy-haired hipsters driving their parent's car aimlessly through Detroit looking to get to St. Andrews Hall. None of them showed any remorse for interrupting me. To them, and all others, I am a travel kiosk in running shoes. Never mind that such stopping and starting throws a runner off stride. Just get me to the Blink 182 concert on time!

As I write, I've decided to take a stand. At the risk of being perceived as rude, callous, and indifferent to the needs of others, I'm going to toss the "do not disturb" sign on the kiosk door. I completed my longest training run of 14 miles this past Saturday. After two hours of running, I realized that if I stopped, I would have a helluva time starting the engine back up. Fortunately, at this time, I wasn't greeted by any "how do I get to's..." But, had this greeting come, I would have been forced to implement my one man protest. I doubt this stand of mine will start the next great social movement. I doubt just as much that the city of Detroit will suffer the ill effects of map-less teenagers wandering through the streets.