Mark Matthews's Blog, page 49

My Two Cents After One Trip To Boston

It's just over three weeks away, meaning the culmination of those training for Boston is here! Before I ran Boston for the first time, I read lots of different takes and opinions on the course, and all of them highlighted different things.  Different personalities see different things, and it was good to get a consensus. With that in mind, I thought I would throw in my two cents about my take on Boston.


Getting There.
Flights are expensive, but then the price of the hotels make the flights look cheap. I found one of those "rent a room in my house" websites and got a nice room, sort of like a B and B, for less than a hundred dollars a night. We had a great host who cooked for my wife and I and gave me some local pointers. It was in Cambridge, and I walked around the campus of Harvard and took what I call" The Good Will Hunting Tour," which ended when I banged on the glass of a restaurant window yelling "Do you like apples? Do you like apples?  Well, I got her number. How'd you like them apples?"






It was nice to stay away from the main marathoners drag, since I was around them enough for the expo and during the run, but needed some space. Having runners in front of your nose all the time just constantly reminds you of the event, and plus you're with the same group in a different city that way rather than venturing outward which is what I wanted.  The Boston subway system is incredible. The city is quaint, not the claustrophobic crowded feel of a Chicago and just seemed a little more 'green'. Boston, you  all have reasons to be snobs.



Getting To The Starting Line
If it's your first Boston, I think you are cheating if you don't take the buses but instead take a private bus. Potties on the bus are for wimps. Wake up, and go stand in line with the massive MASSIVE crowds by the subway stop like the rest of us.  Man is it a sight to see. Lines of buses from horizon to horizon and a mass of crowd everywhere.  Do get there early, especially if you are in the first wave.  I have wondered many times who was the last person to get on the bus and how they must have pooped their paints in nerves over not getting to the start on time.
Waiting in line for the busses. This picture doesn't do it justice.
A Survival Kit
Yes, I suggest bringing a disposable survival kit. A black bag to sit on to keep your arse dry, some food to eat if needed, and all the little comfort items you may need to prepare yourself before the run. Packing your breakfast if you want because there's plenty of time to eat it. The bus ride is long since there are a lot of stop and go's waiting to drop you off.  The crickety bus ride really exposes how far you will actually be running and gives you lots of time to socialize with random people or meditate and ponder on your event, or just take a nap if you really are the running Zen Master.


When it's time to go to the corral and wait, this to me is what really felt different than other races. Just a bit more majestic the buzz that comes from the start with helicopters and then jets flying overhead, the Boston Marathon Banners, and the reality of waiting to take off on the biggest most famous race on the plant. Of course, my feelings could be based on what it personally meant to me to be there at that moment.


Waiting to be summoned to the startThe Myth of Hills At Boston.
I was very surprised after hearing all the stories about the hills at Boston. What I found was there are no hills, but in fact, the course IS hills.  When I hear hill I hear a flatland approaching a hill and then getting flat again.  The whole course is always on an incline or decline, which is what surprised me despite seeing the elevation chart many times.  And the neat thing is you can thus see forever in front of you, and the whole mass of runners makes you feel that much more a part of the community.


But, none of the hills is that daunting in terms of its steepness, but a few are strategically placed by some marathon guru to test if you really want to finish.  When I close my eyes, I have more horror at that small little hill at mile 25.5 in Chicago dubbed "Mt. Roosevelt."


The Crowds: My take on the difference of the crowds at Boston:
 The crowds at Chicago are four to ten deep and cheer for its marathoners with all their heart. The crowds at Boston are ever present as well and seem to be cheering for themselves during the marathon. It seems they are cheering for their city, and for all that they created, and they are happy you are there to see it and be there with them.  They don't just want you to hear, they want the whole world to hear that they are Boston, and hear them roar.


Learn the history
I didn't study it thoroughly, but did read through quite a few descriptions of the distinct and differing neighborhoods you will run through trying to get back to the city from Hopkington. My description wouldn't do justice the many different ones out there, but just know that, maybe due to it being a straight shot, it has more distinct neighborhoods than other circular courses (I do New York in November so expect it has this same feel.)  It is like venturing through different worlds as you go, my testosterone does remember the screaming Wesley girls, I remember a "biker gang," and I remember wishing I memorized the exact number of hills leading up to "heartbreak hill." I really wanted to know as my thighs were getting pounded if I was at the end of the inclines or was there another one on the horizon. Not sure if my fuzzy brain would have been able to remember and recall anyways, but a sign that said "Welcome to HeartBreak Hill" save me and  was such a relief so I expanded the last bit of 'hill energy' I had to get to the top and ready to roll down to the finish.

Boston Virtual Course Tour Link 

Did The Sox Win?
You are a Red Sox Fan for the day. No mater what. Be a geek about it. Pay homage to Carlton Fisk and yell randomly to people "but did the sox win? Did the sox win?" Makes you as cool as the other side of the pillow.


The Boston Marathon not in Boston.
Only a portion of the course is in Boston, a very small portion at then end.  This makes the Boston section seem so roaring.


Pray to CITGO  Pray pray to Citgo
I had heard in advance about the Citgo sign looming in the sky as a sign that you are near the end.  And yes, when you see it it will warm your heart and pump fresh blood to your legs.  And I swear as you get closer to the finish, with a solid but relatively sparse crowd, you can hear the finish from miles away, until you finally make that final turn onto Bolyston street and your last strides before crossing the blue and gold banner.

I now love CITGO gas.  Or, as one famous boston baseball player who tried to hit the ball out of fenway park, See It Go.


This runner has some major CITGO love 

Bring A Ring To Give To Your Wife At The Finish.
Well, in my case, our ten year anniversary was 5 weeks after the run, so it worked out perfect.
Yes, I carried the ring with me through airport security, hid it from my wife over the weekend, and then tucked it into my zippered shorts and carried  it with me over 26.2 sweaty mucus filled miles and gave it to her near the finish. I had this whole image of kneeling down and presenting right on the blue and gold finish line strip, but….

Stay longer…
I Love walking around a city a bit after the race.  Great way to help in recovery, no more worries about your time and the event, what's done is done.


After the Boston I finished, I was able to walk, and my wife was happy as could be  since this romeo gave her an anniversary ring at the end of the event
We went to the coolest sea food shop ever in the north end called The Daily Catch.  They cook your lobster or whatever meal and then just bring the pan right to your table as the dish. There's a chalkboard menu, cash only, maybe 4 tables and 20 seats in the place.  The Daily Catch




This meal was delicious, but later on that night, I chased it down with a Quarter Pounder w/cheese. True Story.

There were no bathrooms in the place, but they had an agreement with the cigar bar across the seat, so I went over there and it looked like a Sopranos casting call. Expensive suits, men with leers on their faces surrounded by woman in Vegas like outfits, an aura of "I'm a clown, you think I'm a clown? I amuse you?"  floating above each and every one of them.  I tiptoed to the bathroom over the legs of 'made guys' to the tune of Don't Stop Believin.
"Excuse me (cough) where's the bathroom?"

Lastly - Buy as much Swag as you can.  Get the jacket, even if it's ugly like it was the years I ran. I grabbed the jacket, a short sleeve T, and a winter hat, but wished I got more.  Who knows when I'll be back.


 

"I Got This!" The Story Of My Boston Qualifier

"I have no formula for winning the race. Everyone runs in her own way, or his own way. And where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within"
"I'm forever in pursuit and I don't even know what I am chasing."
Chariots of Fire

 *With Boston coming up, I figured it was time for another long, rambling, self-indulgent post, this time describing my Ten Year Odyssey to run A Boston Qualifier*

No Such Thing As Failures, Just Many Ways To Learn How Not To Do Something
I trained my ass off to quality for Boston. After the pain of my first marathon ended, I wanted to push the bar farther, to find some other rite of passage to prove myself.  I had heard about the mythical, classic race, and even non-runners know that Boston means something extra special.  Many times it came up with someone unfamiliar with the world of running that I've done a marathon  "Oh yeah," they will say "but have you ever run Boston?" I can't help but think others have had this experience. Most who ask this, don't mean are you fast enough to qualify, but they assume that it is somehow a different kind of 26.2.  Still, it was an immediate measuring stick.

Shortly after my first marathon when the pain had finally subsided,  I remember googling "Boston marathon qualifying times" and learned that I needed to run a 3:10 to qualify. I quickly did the math and found it meant averaging 7:16 per mile.  So, I immediately took a warm up run to the local track, and then tried to assess if I could run a 7:16 mile and see what it felt like. I figured if I could run one of them without incredible strain, that after some training, I could do 26 of them.

My first attempt was around a 7:40 and my perceived effort was alarmingly hard. Not to be discouraged I rested and ran again, and since I was truly warmed up, hit a 7:05.  that was more like it. It was on. I had a goal, qualifying for Boston. I researched programs, did constant mathematical equations and mile splits in my head, thought about running at work and talked about it to people who didn't give a damn,

 I really believe I was in the best shape of my adult life (adult life, that is) training for my first attempt for a BQ. I was running 55 to 60 mile weeks, I was doing intervals once a week – quarter miles, half miles, 8 x 1 miles– and I was doing regular races while training and recovering fairly well. I hit  a 1:29 half marathon, a 1:06 ten miler, and all the race predictors had me  right around a 3:10 finishing time, some predicted a bit higher, some a bit lower.  My confidence was growing at the same time my fear was growing.  I kept telling myself failure was not an option.

So, as any egomaniac hiding an inferiority complex would, I went out for a run most days trying to prove myself capable.

The  lack of confidence and constant fears meant I wanted so much feedback from my training data. All the time. Constant data.  Every run was measured, and when the doubts hit during a run I pushed myself to run a marathon pace mile.  I was so infatuated with training, always wanting to know if it would happen, so  for no reason on regular runs I would push it to marathon pace, already on dead, tired, non-recovered legs and thus damaging myself and not proving a thing,  foolishly wrecking what should have been a slower recovery run and stealing moments away from more key workouts in the near future. It would be my theme for years to come.

"Just remember this: No one ever won the olive wreath with an
impressive training diary."- Marty Liquori
All this training lead up to my last 20 miler, a training run sponsored by Runnning Fit 3 weeks out from marathon day. I had been pointing to this even and wanted assurance I was in 3:10 shape, so I basically raced the training run, and ran a 6:58 pace for 20 miles on a hilly route. A 7:16 pace was needed to qualify.  I of course did the math and realized 6.2 more 8 minute miles would have given me BQ glory at the finish. Hellz yeah! I could do that!

Little did I know, I blew my whole training that day, emptying out all the marathon Mojo I had been storing up, and lost any hope for running my best event.  If I had run the first ten slow, sped up, and ended with some marathon pace miles, and then followed this last long run with a three week taper,  I would have been refreshed at the starting line Marathon morning and been fully 3:10/BQ ready.

But, Instead of training for marathon day, I wanted assurance and a guarantee, so I raced the training event just so I could point to this sweet time as proof I could BQ.

A week later, even this confidence wore off, so  I did another 20 miler only this time it was with slogging, dead legs -- 2 weeks out from marathon day, and did the Detroit Half Marathon the week before Chicago. Not only was it a  2 instead of 3 week taper, it was way too much for my 'fair at best' running genetics. This mistake would also continue for years to come.

And now in one hour's time I will be out there again. I will raise my eyes and look down that corridor; 4 feet wide, with 10 lonely seconds to justify my whole existence. But WILL I?
-Chariots of Fire (before the 100 meter)

Chicago came, and my mistakes continued. The start was packed, jammed together, making it impossible to start with any speed (this was before 'chutes').  I was so fearful of not running my BQ, that I ran an uneven pace, at first acting like a nut and running through people quite obnoxiously the first mile trying to hit my 7:16 and not fall behind. My runner's etiquette shot out of my body like a one nostril snot shot.  Still, in the crowded field, I couldn't hit my 7:16 for the first 2 miles but instead was closer to 7:30, and insanely made up for it by doing a couple of even 7 minute miles in a row from miles 5 to 7. 

With all of that, I was still on pace until mile 20, but when I got there, I felt much worse than I had at the end of my faster 20 mile training run 3 weeks earlier.  I employed the "just one more mile" mentality, telling myself that I just had to run one more mile, just one more mile at the same pace, and that the race ended at mile 21, so just make it another mile and don't worry about the rest. And then the same for mile 22, and so on. 

My pace slowed, my legs hardened and ligaments so taxed it was like I had wet cement for blood.  I wasn't going to make it, all my training and time and mental energy was a waste. Alarm bells rang in my head.  I fought and fought and fought against that prospect, pushing from some force beyond me, and what happened to me at this point was amazing. My legs cramped up so insane that bulges of muscle, like the birthing crowns of aliens, sprouted out of my thighs.  Huge bowling balls from my thigh muscles emerged. Walking was a struggle.  I feared getting pulled off the course, and if someone could read my mind and feel my body they would mandate it. I finished with an ache in my legs that has left a permanent psychological imprint. If there was a zombie attack, I would have been shot in the head cause I looked like the living dead. I was that guy you looked at and put in your memory banks saying "I don't ever want to be him."  I hit a 3:16 after running the last two miles averaging 10 minutes per mile pace.

"Most marathoners will tell you, around mile 20, they start praying for any kind of help they can get"  Saint Ralph

Instead of learning from my mistakes, I basically did the same exact training routine for the next 3 or 4 years with only minor modifications, and crossed the finish line with a marathon each year but always short of my goal.

Qualifying for Boston was a self-imposed mark. It was pretty artificial, and while I gauged it as what would make me a 'real runner', I realize everything is relative and that there are many faster folks who set the bar much higher; sub 3 hours for example, being able to run the Olympic qualifier, all sorts of other feats that make a BQ look a bit silly, but for me it became important.

Yet I still found myself failing in multiple attempts at qualifying, each time taking solace in all the psycho-spiritual-physical benefits of training, soothing myself saying 'you just finished a marathon, how can you be disappointed?' but still with a nagging ache in my heart and an unspoken sadness for not reaching my goal.

I started to wonder why my training had just coincidentally danced around the BQ time zone but never under. Was I psychologically stopping myself from being successful and running this time?  Maybe I was flirting with meeting my goal, but somehow my psyche was too scared to run faster and more comfortable with falling just short; a wannabe athlete accustomed to not performing and feeling less than, completely comfortable in not succeeding and falling to saccharine self-pity. 

"I've known the fear of losing but now I am almost too frightened to win." 
Chariots of Fire

There were many moments it hit me that I was going to my grave without having ever qualifying.  That it was a dream that would forever have to be deferred, and all the times I imagined what a BQ finish might feel like would have to stay imaginary and would simply never happen. .

Just a small part of me felt embarrassed since it was a pretty public goal of mine, although mostly it was just an existential failure and that my roar into the vast realm of the universe was in fact just a pip-squeak of a mouse instead.  That's okay, a mouse has its place.


The horror, the horror.
Then kids came, and I was a little less into times and simply finishing. I ran a few 3:45 marathons, one just under 4, I did a trail marathon just to finish since it was heralded as one of the top ten toughest marathons in the country.  My races were spread apart, but as the kids got older and training was easier to fit in, and as the BQ times changed from a 3:10 to a 3:20 for my age group, I went at it again, trying to qualify, and felt like I had to unlearn some bad habits.  Insanity is trying to do the same thing over and over again expecting different results. It is being hard-headed and stubborn and sticking to beliefs, not in a noble way but in an ignorant dangerous way. It happened in my addiction and failed attempts to get sober, and it happened in my sobriety. I needed to trust some different training ways, some different approaches. I realized each race was an experiment of one.

So, I tried a whole series of new training methods, many of these have already been discussed in pasts posts, but I think the mix that worked for me was the following:

-Pushing my last longest run to 22 or 23 miles.

-Doing more long runs, finishing the second half of every other long run at projected marathon pace.

-Doing less speed work. My times showed I was fast enough, and speed work hampered the endurance runs that I really needed.

-Taking more time to recover, not worrying if I do a week of as little as 10-15 miles of running if needed.

-Calf sleeves, 2 calf sleeves really.

-Not pushing the training for false, overly reassuring needing confidence building runs.

-A 3 week taper instead of two

-Adding hills for muscle strength in those last miles

-Eating for recovery, and adding S-Caps; (sodium caps.) My sweat is so salty I finish events with white streaks on my face, and I swear the S-caps help eliminate even minor cramping

-Running with headphones. Yes, running the event with headphones too.

-Choosing a smaller race, in my case, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

--Pity from god who gave me a perfect temperature to run on race day.

Grand Rapids Marathon StartAll of these were part of my experiment of one, and it was an experiment I never knew would work.  I had been mentally defeated to a degree, and there was the mind games I had going on, that mental block, that fearful and uncertainty to find my personal "win".   I intellectually knew all about the "you have to believe you can do it" (yeah, yeah, blah blah)  but it was in a weird Jedi training moment that I actually 'learned this' concept.

ItI happened 15 minutes before the start of the Grand Rapids Marathon, on a perfect, partly sunny morning.

My wife was dropping me off just before the start with time enough to take the mandatory pee, and get a nice starting spot in the chute. Grand Rapids was small, no need to elbow your way to freedom, and the cold wind and rain of the day before had gave way to what was a perfect running day.  Mid 30's to start, up to mid 40's by ten am.

"If I don't see you during the race," she asked, "what time do you think you will be done?" 

"If I'm done in three and a half hours, and I know I will be done in three and a half hours, it will be 11:30. But hopefully earlier."

And then it struck me. I said "hopefully earlier" with no backbone to it, yet I was so so confident I could do three and a half hours. I said 'I Know" with complete certainly,  but if I didn't' think I could do less than that, the 3:20 I needed to qualify,  if I didn't believe it, I was done and all set up for another failure.  My language had revealed a lack of faith in my mind that my body was sure to follow. 

I needed to believe it in my heart, not simply due to the training sheets, but believe it, and maybe even stronger, KNOW it. I know I can do it, and I know I will do it.

So it struck me.  I did my prerace routine and did a personal Jedi mind meld.  I know it, I Know it, I know it. I got this, I got this, I got this, I got this…

The  phrase "I got this" would be my mantra to push me. I got this, I got this, I got this. I must have said it 20,492 times in my head to myself during the race, and at the 20,493rd time, about mile 18, I believed it.  I had been speeding up the whole event, actually starting slower than marathon pace to get my legs warmed up, and then running about 10 miles just under 3:20  from miles 8 to 18, and here I was and I knew it, I knew it, "I got this."   Your fastest races feel the easiest, and this was where I was at, there was no "might."  I have been at those "might qualify" moments so many times in races before, so I knew this wasn't one of those. A "might make it" means some weird energy might come from nowhere, but I always knew in my heart in those "might" races I was not going to make it. I just wanted to try, because to 'try' is to fail with dignity. But here I was at mile 18, with the biggest smile in every fiber of my being because I had energy left!  I was actually gaining energy, my instinct could sense things were different and as long as I made no mistakes and didn't rip a muscle by pushing the pace erratically, I was good to the finish.

·      "A runner is a miser, spending the pennies of his energy with great
stinginess, constantly wanting to know how much he has spent and how
much longer he will be expected to pay. He wants to be broke at
precisely the moment he no longer needs his coin."  Once A Runner
When I did finish, I wasn't fully broke but probably had another marathon pace half mile or more in me, but my only fear was pushing too hard and ripping a muscle completely, so I raced sweet and smooth to the end. The tears came during the last .2, and I crossed the line and found a place alone to have a true holy moment.

Flying High Now
And here's the truth, no joke, I finished at exactly the training time needed.  3:20:00 flat. Not a second too slow or fast, but right on time.

25147168Mark MatthewsM407793:20:0007:38















Knowing I would be physically and emtotionally exhausted, I took the next day off work. It was a Monday, and my boss called me at home.  He's calling to ask me about the marathon, I thought, which seemed very thoughtful because we'd become close over many years and maybe he understood how important it was to me. But that wasn't the reason for his call, "take more than just this Monday off," he said, "and we need to schedule a meeting."
After 9 years at a job I overall loved, I was being laid off. Oh, the irony dripped from the walls. Breaking through this running barrier had brought on a whole slew of changes, and shortly after running the race of my life that had eluded me, I was cleaning out my office at a place that had been my second home for nearly ten years. It was a job where I was well known, comfortable, but was now just a memory.
I had always said I would trade away nearly anything to finally reach my goal, and that's exactly what seemed to happen. But as doors closed, windows opened and I landed on my feet, and looking back, wouldn't change a thing. Thank god I had the confidence of my run to deal with the layoff, and pretty much any challenge that comes my way, as long as I don't give up.


Read "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 


Reviews of The Jade Rabbit


Read "STRAY", by Mark Matthews, recently voted into the second round of Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Contest
Reviews of "STRAY"

The Walking Dead, Season Two, and The Running Dead, Inaugural Race

Ah, The Walking Dead, Season Two is coming to its conclusion, and a great season it has been. The show continues to demonstrate an entertaining portrayal of moral ambiguities, decision making dilemmas, group dynamics and grasping onto some humanity while trying to survive while the zombies make guest appearances.


Spoiler Alert!

So sad that Shane is gone, but I gasped and fell in love with the series for its willingness to off a major character. Shane deserves an Emmy for his acting job. I know people who are just like him in real life, and Shane has all the hair scratches, head bobs, facial expressions, and tiny little movements and cadence of speech down perfect.

If you pay close attention, there has been all sorts of metamorphoses:  The Sheriff's hat that Rick used to put on to remind him that he was in charge in the past life so he needs to continue, is being transferred to his kid. Okay, that one's obvious.

But then there's another noggin: Shane. remember the scene when Shane killed Otis just to get free, and then he shaved his head? He has never been the same since, and in fact, when he was about to kill the prisoner and his face was all jacked up with bruises, he was already basically a zombie then; grunts included.

SHANE'S TRANSFORMATION

I'm a good cop who will protect your wife and kids.
I just killed an innocent man to help my mistress  who I think I got pregnant.

My mistress's husband killed me and now I'm a zombie.
Then there's Darryl who is either in the farmhouse or out of the farmhouse, depending on how much buy-in he has for the group and if he's going to play savage or saint.  Shane and Dale were polar opposites, (one had a shaved head, the other a dorky hat) but Darryl has it all wrapped up sweetly in his tormented backwoods heart.  Maybe the most emotional, most caring, most able to turn it off in seconds and drill you with his primitive Bow and Arrow. Coolest cat in any holler you have ever been to.




I kinda dig the whole idea of 'caretaking' and 'keeping family safe' as a testosterone laden thing in the series.  When Shane tells Rick he's not a good dad, that he's not the best dad and can't keep his family safe, every dad can't help but feel their blood pressure rise and rage.

As for the final episode, I am looking to learn the secret whispered into Rick's ear at the CDC and hope Merle will make an appearence

All this zombie talk, I have this great idea for a new running event. It goes something like this:

The Running Dead - 10 Miler
5,000 folks sign up, it could be a marathon, half marathon, but I think a ten miler would work best.  Of all of these runners, there is one runner who is the infected. This runner is, of course, aching and suffering and hurting on the insides like any good zombie is, and it is their constant craving  to catch someone to feed upon to alleviate this pain.  They start somewhere in the race, and when they find a victim, they either bite them, or --another acceptable method would be to rip off the tag on the runners shirts given to them at the start. Much like a flag football, all the runners would have a secure flag or identifier that securely attaches but can easily be ripped off. Then, this next runner is also infected and it is now their role to catch other victims. The zombie infection would travel through the runnning field and the best way to escape it is probably to run as fast at you can to the finish.

Prizes for those not infected as well as those who infect the most others. Sounds great? Like The Hunger Games flag football?

I can see some serious zig-zag running and a big scrum breaking out, but if any race directors are out there, this idea is free for you to take, thanks for stopping in.



 "STRAY", by Mark Matthews 
(recently voted into the second round of Amazons Breakthrough Novel Contest)
"The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 

Amazon Promo - Stray FREE for Kindle, Two Days Only

STRAY the novel, Free on Amazon for Kindle, March 7th and 8th The link is here: STRAY on Amazon



**STRAY has recently been voted into the Second Round of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest**  (5,000 Entries allowed, 1,000 remain.)


Therapist Tomas Cleaves is many years sober from his addiction but is now losing his mind. He is sure that the addicts he treats must have infected the womb of his wife. Add to that the occasional seizure and voices in his head, he may be more unstable than any of his clients. And with clients like Jason Boston Senior, the Ancient Heroin Wizard, who moves about the city's underground like the Merlin of smack, Tom is in desperate need of a client who can give him some hope.

James White is one such client -- a newly orphaned alcoholic dead bent on drinking again until he finds himself rescuing lost strays at the next door animal shelter. It is here that he meets the mystical nurse and animal control worker Rachel. Rachel cleans cages, rescues strays, but then has the unfortunate duty of putting some to sleep with a lethal injection. Can James escape his despondent life by helping her rescue the throw-away pets of the city?

The lives of Thomas and James, along with some incredibly vivid characters from the streets of Detroit, are intricately woven together, creating a novel that is certain to be remembered. A gritty novel with an edge yet surprisingly gentle and sweet, Stray illustrates the universal longing in all of us as we look for a safe place that feels like home.

New York Marathon --- Raising Funds For Covenant House

Flying To New York In November 2012
So, I am officially in for the New York City Marathon for 2012.  The non-profit, Covenant House, was chosen as a charity again this year, and my application is set for faxing and I have 8 months to raise funds for a great cause.


I am not going to pretend that a major part of my motivation isn't  "damn, I really want to run that race" but it would be impossible to raise the amounts of funds without having some passion for the charity.  This is my second time doing a charity marathon, the first was inspired by a family member undergoing chemotherapy and I raised funds for cancer treatment.
I became aware of the Covenant house through my dad who, after a long successful career, wanted to find a cause to support.  He was very thorough in trying to find something he believed in, and didn't want to just throw money or time at something that wasn't clearly effective, needed, and with tangible results you could see with your own eyes. For example, one of his thoughts was that he wanted to drive around the city of Detroit with a van, a ladder, and some new basketball nets, and make sure every iron rimmed hoop had a net. 
As kind of a financial guru, his services were requested by some non-profit boards, and he finally came up with Covenant house, and gets tears in his eyes when he talks of the services, and has found a second career as board chair of the Detroit chapter. Their focus is on the 17 to 22 year old population, often times those who have 'aged out' of foster care.  While most foster care families do it for the love and concern, some stop showing that ssme love when the monthly payments stop.  These are young adults who will fall through the cracks, never given a chance, and at such a critical place in their lives. Covenant house offers a place to live, spiritual support, much needed guidance for their transition to adulthood, and also offer a school where at-risk and needy youth finish high school.
Here are their words instead of mine:
Covenant House Michigan offers unconditional love, respect and hope to youth ages 13-22.
Covenant House Michigan is a sanctuary for young people who have nowhere to go. Kids who come to our doors have been abused and neglected, have slept on friends' couches or in abandoned buildings. These kids have been forgotten by those who are supposed to care about them the most. When they come through our gates, they become part of a family. Our staff, volunteers and donors carry out our mission based on faith and the belief that all of God's children deserve unconditional love, respect and hope.
Here's a link for more information. Covenant House of Michigan

I have met the executive director of The Covenant House, and his dedication is incredibly selfless, his charm is magnetic yet humble, and he can bounce among so many different worlds that he's a spiritual chameleon. The clients, customers, or "their kids", as they call them, have a genuine gratitude for the services.  After all that most of them have been through, there is no way I would be doing as well, and I can see why my dad was so inspired by the service.  

Candle light vigils are done in the cold of the winter, to let others get a feel of what its like to be outside in the dark. And while many of its members are more homeless in the sense that they are living at a friends house, coach surfing, or in unsafe environments, many are indeed on the streets or at parks, and thus a Covenant House van goes out each night and does outreach, looking for those in need.
As a social worker and therapist for 20 years, I have worked with this population at different times, including 2 years at a runaway shelter, and I have also referred people to Covenant house and they have an incredible attention to the role they play.  Human services can too easily forget who they are, and become cold and impersonal, and that first interaction when you are in crisis is so crucial.  They got it down right, and now I have a 'macro', larger based reason to run this marathon rather than the usual, 'micro' interpersonal runs I usually take.

In fact, if you have read my novel,  The Jade Rabbit, Covenant House is the type of service the main character ,Janice is constantly encouraging Sharleen, the homeless 18 year old,  to get involved with. (Can't spoil the outcome.)
So, until then, I will see you in New York!   **But first, some training to do.
I'm scheduled to run the Ann Arbor marathon on June 17th   and have some work to do. So far, I have done four 14 mile runs and one 15 mile run, so my long run distance is moving along just fine. I hope to do 6 more Long Runs, including three 20 milers and a half marathon warm up. However, my weekly mileage is a bit pathetic.
(I'll whisper it.  25 miles or so, topping out at 28, one recently as low as 20, and 12 days completely off due to a major sinus infection)
I've always contended that someone could effectively run a marathon by just doing one long run a week, as long as it gets bumped up to 20 or so followed by a taper. I guess I'm testing that theory.
If I go splat in Ann Arbor, bury me standing.
**Anyone interested in information about running for Covenant House, I would be happy to provide it!**


 

A Running Trail Littered With Bodies, Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest, And Other Observations From A California Trip

Back from California, with a Hodge-podge of Rants



-Reading on vacation is so much different.  It just is. I am reading A Clash Of Kings and it is an  incredible piece (I call it Game of Thrones, part two). Not so much the prose but the plot and the characters and the vast world George Martin created. Bring on the HBO series.

As much as I love kindles I hate that I can't see what people are reading as I walk through airports and spy readers on airplanes. I always generate backstory in my brain about their lives when I see the title someone is reading, but now all I can tell is they have a kindle. Plus, seeing the title of a book in someones hands is a great conversation starter (slash) annoying excuse to be intrusive.   

The planes of Spirit airlines make noises you don't hear anywhere else, and the seats look like they were torn from a 1979 Ford escort

Out on some runs in California, and it confirmed to me that the best way to see and discover a new area is while you are on a run. Your eyes will see things different, and you'll uncover things  that would have otherwise remained hidden. I stumbled out of my hotel at 4:30 one morning (jet lag) and found a sweet beach area by following a path alongside the highway.  The path was littered with bodies, literally littered with bodies and shopping carts. It was a haven for the homeless, and they all had staked their claim along the side of the path and under bridges while this running dude darted between them. It was early and about 55 degrees, so they were just shadows and huddled in their blankets, still sleeping in the darkness.  Being cautious means I took one headphone bud out of my ear so I could hear any sudden movements.

It was too dark to see, but the smell of the salt in the air as I approached the beach was intoxicating  As I ran out towards the crashing waves I felt like raising my arms in triumph. I had to put one finger in the water to baptise at least the tip of my pointer and prove to my body and blood I had arrived.

Down the beach in the distance was what looked like a huge highway bridge heading from the street out into the darkness, so I ran towards it in a zig-zag, just out of reach of the waves, and as I got closer realized it was not a bridge but a huge pier.  I ran silently as I could down the pier  so as not to disturb anyone up ahead. The deep blue sea around me foamed at the mouth waiting for me to jump in and be eaten. It was as if my finger had just been an appetizer for the rest of my blood which had this strange yearning to just throw myself over the edge and crash into the surf bubbling below. The salt content in our blood is the same amount of salt as the ocean, which always confirms my belief that when get to the point that earth meets the sea we feel whole again, and our insides yearn to return to their origins.

Yet, I have more life to live, and many miles to run before I sleep, so journeyed on down the pier.

If any fisherman had been up and looking for their morning catch, I would have turned around so as to not disturb their silent sport, but the place was completely empty. The only life aboard was me and a few seagulls, so I ran to the end, went from side to side, filled my lungs with as much of the fresh air as I could, and then back towards the beach. Finally, a few fisherman were at the beginning of the pier, now walking to cast their morning hopes. I gave a little wave but didn't get one back, just some disparaging looks. I was slightly fearful I would never  get back and find the trail in the dark that brought me there, but followed my own footsteps and found my way.  A few miles before home, a bit of the morning light finally brightened the mountain horizons, and men bundled up in big sweaters were summoned from their sleep and carried bags of cans and pushed their belongings in a shopping cart.  I ran gratefully and humbly in between back to my sleeping family who awaited me

That same day, When we got to Sea World at 8:30 AM, thinking it opened at 9 instead of 10, we had some time to kill so I drove back to the same beach in the full light of day with the whole family and danced and ran like silly tourists while true to heart beach bums and surfing rats began their day.




During my runs in California,  Only 1 out of 5 runners I crossed waved back to me. A small sample, but in Michigan I would have easily hit 4 out of 5.

I am going to have to write a novel about zombies or vampires sometime soon, because whenever my brain starts to write, some such monster is always creeping in.

San Diego zoo is all its cracked up to be. The animals just seem happier and are way more interactive. The whole place has a great vibe, and has been engineered with all sorts of twisting levels and pathways for different viewing angles.



That vibe was shattered a bit at Sea World when we paid 14 dollars to park and 40 dollars for four hot dogs, two chips and 2 pops.  Sea world had its moments, and it was great to watch my kids splashed by Shamu, dolphins, and feed some brave sea lions, but was not a must see.




-DisneyLand is like DisneyWorld after it has been smashed in the trash compactor of the Death Star.  Still, we had a great time. We did It's A Small World a total of six times, Pirates of The Caribbean three, tons of other events, parades, moments, and the ride Soaring was incredible.

-My first day back, I had tickets to see Rock Of Ages, a 80's rock musical. Nostalgia looks back with a hue of fondness on everything.  The show treaded this fine line between mocking the same music it was so fond of, and the story of dreams diverted was a bit touching and very comedic, and forced me to look at my days of rocking to Def Leppard with a smirk.  I am glad I went but not on my must-see list.


Finally...

My novel STRAY has made it to the second round of the Amazon breakthrough Novel Contest! Yipppeeee! 5,000 entries were  they have been narrowed done to 1,000.  The next cut is on March 20th when 750 more will be eliminated. Grand prize is a contract with Penguin and a 15k advance.

Curious about STRAY, check it out here:

Read "STRAY", by Mark Matthews 
STRAY chapter one 

 "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 

The Yin and The Yang: My Addiction and My Marathons

I will be on vacation for a bit so have written a monstrous, verbose, over sharing, weeks-worth of material put into one single post.  Hope you enjoy.  For further information on this topic, check out this link:  Author Interview On Treatment Talk


The Yin and The Yang: My Addiction and My Marathons



I am nearly 20 years into recovery from addiction.  Yes, it has now been nearly half my life.  There is no doubt I would have been dead had I not made the changes I needed to make in order to be sober.  My pancreas and liver were damaged, my spirit filled with so much despair, my family confused and lost, and after few hospital stays and various other changes, here I am; 12 marathons, two daughters, two novels (that makes four kids) and a masters degree in counseling but still in school as a perpetual PH.D. level stooge.
There is always a danger in talking about your addiction. In order to do it justice, you have to explain its depths and degrees and go into some gory details, otherwise it becomes just a tiny blip in the screen and a hangnail in the adventure of life.  My plunge into addiction was not just a case of one drunk driving, a couple of hangovers, or a few failed attempts to stop drinking. It was much, much worse.
On the other hand, often times when folks discuss their addiction there is a degree of bragging. Circumstances are exaggerated, amounts are tripled, the fish stories get bigger, all in a grandiose attempt to build up the teller's tale.  I suppose you could call it the "A Million Little Pieces" lie, (referring to the novel where the writer fabricated and exaggerated his condition, all in an attempt to actually feed his ego and sell more books.) 
Strange how folks feed their ego by saying "I'm sicker than the rest of you" but it happens all the time, and it's happening in a church basement at an AA/NA meeting as we speak. 
"Oh yeah, son? Well, I wrung more booze out of my tie then you'll ever drink" or "I spilled enough cocaine off a mirror to kill most of you."
Or then there's the relapse bragger; the one who describes how he relapsed right in the parking lot of the first 23 treatment centers he went through and therefore his beast of burden is much more fearsome than the rest.
So, in an attempt to do my addiction justice, I need to add some details without glorifying and take the middle, watered-down road.
  By the time I was in high school, I was drinking daily, and this continued into my freshman year in college at The University of Michigan. Drinking was the only thing that made me happy, made me feel content and like I belonged. I was powerful, magical, and full of a nice warm glow that made me shine (or so I thought). These were my glory days, when I was superman and could do well in school, played some sports, was popular and could put all sorts of substances in my body in my 'experiment of one'.  I was better than the rest who lived mundane existences because I was feeling really alive, on fire, burning with a passion for everything.  I could drink a fifth of vodka on a Wednesday night, go to class on Thursday morning, and come home with a B+ or better on my report card and all was well with the world.
Then of course it turned on me. I had shakes and sweats and got crazy fat. I couldn't get by without a drink in the morning.  I bought $1.79 half pints of vodka, only to return to the store for another half pint and then another half pint, doing the dreaded half pint shuffle.

 These guys used to be so cool until Axl starting drinking too much and got fat.  Hmmm, wait a second, that sounds just like me."I used to do a little but a little wouldn't do it –
So the little got more and more –I just keep trying to get a little better, said a little better than before"--Mr. Brownstone, Guns N Roses

To stop drinking was to have everything pulled away from me, so this was not going to happen. It was the only thing that made me feel significant, worthy, and filled all the holes in my spirit.  I needed it biologically to stop shaking, spiritually to feel I had a purpose, psychologically because god did I hate myself and always felt like a meaningless twerp.

My family didn't know what to think and called me "chubhead" because I gained so much weight and was a disgustingly bloated alcoholic. (we all blamed the dorm food)  Things only got worse. A fight had a beer bottle thrown from afar smash on my chin and rip open my face, I had a couple of  police incidents, I had an inability to go to class because I was too gross or was afraid I would vomit or just felt so inhuman. And always, always scrambling to stop from failing out of school, in and out of academic probation, and taking incredible efforts to cover my tracks.

After having to leave the dorms for being put on probation, I moved into a house with some friends.  We had a party with candles and smoking and literally burned the place down one night.  One person was hospitalized but it could have been worse, and instead of learning a lesson, we sat in front of the house the day after full of self-pity and drank.
Worse than all of this, however, were the despair and the loneliness and perpetual bitterness that grew in my belly. It was like I was pregnant with a demon child that got bigger and bigger until it overcame its host. I was lonely, scared, hurt, and thrashing out at others and anyone I could blame and felt resentment at everything because I felt so insignificant.  Yet at the same time my brain became incredibly twisted so that I thought I was better than everyone. The more disgusting I became, the more my brain had to work overtime to create a contrary illusion of myself as some unique, extraordinary intelligent and misunderstood genius on an intellectual adventure.  All of this was bullshit, of course, and I was full of worthlessness in my essence that I couldn't shake.
And to cope with this situation I just drank and used more. Being in a college town meant lots of opportunities to put different substances to my body, and I experimented and become my own pharmacist, adding a bit of that and a mix of this, which of course just made me grosser and more miserable.  When I think back on it, I can remember the misery and despair in the pit of my stomach, like a phantom limb or muscle memory, it remains there forever.  Healed over but now scarred to help me never forget.
When I finally failed out of school, the one thing that I had that I could point to fool myself that I wasn't a total waste was gone.  My delusions were being stripped away.  I had no more weapons to fight back against the reality  (and it is the stripping away of weapons that has to happen before one can fully surrender) I had started going to hospitals for short detox stays, had DT's and seizures, internal bleeding, and pancreatitis that was so incredibly painful.  I had blood in my stool, blood in my vomit, I drank after vomiting, drank in the middle of the night to calm down a pounding blood pressure, and  I responded by putting everything in my body I could to escape the pain of living. With each experiment to alleviate the pain, I was a worse monster for it.
In the end, I had become a sad silly cliche.  The self-pitying misunderstood artist (although I had no art to actually be misunderstood, or understood, I still liked to delude myself into thinking me an artist)





"You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely, But you know you only used to get juiced in it " My efforts to get sober largely failed.  I tried all sorts of measures, half measures, they are called. Cutting down, drinking only beer, drinking only on the weekend, writing down a chart (almost like a training plan) of how much I was allowed to drink each day. All of this in failed efforts to try and safe my life.  
Every relapse was bizarre but predictable.. One time I rationalized how it made sense to drink on the way home from the hospital after a three day detox.  Another time I was in such denial that I had convinced myself I had quit even while I was drinking, and with each step to get some vodka it was an out of body experience where I denied it was even happening.  As long as I could try to make everyone else think I wasn't drinking, then I could live the lie. But it showed in my face and spirit and of course always progressed into something nasty.
I did go to one AA meeting in these early days.  It was so bizarre to me at the time, these happy, caring, but deep individuals who somehow weren't drinking and seemed to look right through me.  When they hugged me at the end, we held hands for a prayer and their sober smiles tried to connect with my heart, I totally blew a circuit. I left the church parking lot and drove away to a local party store for a 40 ouncer.  Too much reality and connection for me to handle.
And so it went on and on.
It only took a full surrender, realizing and then practicing the concepts of AA/NA and believing that I was worth saving, that finally let some true sobriety take root in my heart.  I have a lot of mixed thoughts on AA, more than I could describe accurately here, but I fully believe in the concepts of the steps.  If you look at others who got sober, even those who say AA is full of crap, --chances are if you trace how they got sober, they also followed a path that mirrors AA concepts.  Having your false ego stripped away, surrendering  all your weapons of living and thinking, and turning 'it' over and letting go of anger, resentments, and your perpetual fight at the universe.
It was amazing once I truly let go, and I began to "intuitively know how to handle situations that used to baffle me."  There was indeed a new freedom and new happiness,
Yes, there is plenty of crap at AA meetings, and at times you could get drunk just from the alcohol fumes on the breath of many despite their claims they have been sober 30 years, but it is the place, as father martin said, "Where priest can learn from Plumber."  A lot of healing, a lot of caring, and a place outcasts can call home.
The results of the steps are not staying sober.  You won't find that in there.  The results are 'A spiritual awakening'.  And once you become spiritually awake you will find a life worth living, that you have your place in the grand scheme of life, and that when you do your part and work with the universe, rather than against it, you will find that the flow brings some remarkable things your way.  Doesn't mean you don't have angst and don't have plenty of issues and aren't crazy as hell. My life is stranger in recovery than it was in addiction.
Part of what saved me was returning to things that brought me Joy in an earlier time. This included simple things.  The tiny little treasures of life, where joy was packed in tight and disguised. Little things like food, a cup of coffee, an episode of Seinfeld.
Other things that I returned to that once brought me joy included running. 
In high school, running was the only thing (besides a bit of AP English and cheating on my French Test) that I was good at.  I am sure it was body type.  Being fairly slight of frame, having the right type of fast twitch muscles for endurance, and being of the introverted dissociative type of mind inclined to go off on dreamy tangents during longer runs.  I had been a varsity miler my freshman year, turning in a 4:26 in my sophomore year, but then come senior year, I went on my spring break and never returned back to the field.  Spring break 1987 was the end of my early running career, and after years of serious deadly substance abuse, I came out of retirement to run again.
And now I figure if I could keep drinking despite all the pain it caused me, I can keep running no matter the discomfort.   I'm still chasing the high.   
Meeting my wife who was very fitness oriented is what sparked the running flame to burn brighter. She would go to aerobics classes 6-7x a week, sometimes two classes in a row, sometimes followed by roller blading an 8 mile hilly track.  Well, I upped my training in order to keep up (when you are young and in love you'll do anything) and started to do some running events. My first was an off-road duathlon in which I took second place in my age group.  The second was the Detroit Free Press Marathon.  I ran with my cousin, also a first timer, and finished the event in Tiger Stadium.
This finish line was really just a new beginning.
All of this leading up to my premise that the life of an addict and the life of a marathoner are not that different, yet also polar opposites. Like the yin and yang, they are shapped the same but different colors. 
Both look at limits and blast right past them.
Both are looking to feel free. To use the body to extend past the body.  To modify chemicals to push oneself in order to transcend, because the amazing feeling of power and revelation I get during a run is actually what I was seeking by using substances.  They have that in common.
 Of course, one is based on fear, hurt, laziness, immaturity, and cowardess, and the other is based on discipline, bravery, and inner strength.  I'll let you decide which is which.
Being a distance runner, you have to learn how to push your body.  Aches and pains are often to be dismissed in order to blast yourself up to higher performance, while care needs to be taken not to injure yourself.  As marathoners, we can run through pain, that's part of the package.
And that same dismissiveness when the body pleads for you to stop drives addicts to continue to use their drug of choice.  An addict's body's always giving them signs to stop.  It's there from the first bit of nausea when you took your very first drink, to the hangover and depleted energy, anhedonia and depression, but as an addict, you dismiss it for a larger, more powerful craving to get to 'higher highs.'
"I'm still hungover from last night?  No problem, just get through the first few drinks (um, er, just run the first few miles) and then I'll have energy to go on. Just get out the door, and push it."  "That little ache in my head, that pain in my gut, that vomit on my chin, no problem, I am a Warrior and I can push on into something higher."  In the words of Jim Morrison, 'break on through to the other side'.
Because the life of an addict means that there is part of the brain that gives you energy, focus, and drive, and even creativity to get to the next high and dismisses all the signs to stop.  An addict craving his drug who needs money is the most creative and ambitious entrepreneur in the world and will come up with amazing quick ways to get funds for his drug. Nothing, not even silly things like 'family,' laws,' or 'ethics' can get in the way.
Of course, the drive to feel intoxicated almost killed me, but I am doing the same now, ignoring pains to test my bodies and limits of my highs, only this time they are natural, and that is the difference.  .
If they packaged up the high you get from a run you could sell it at the local dope house, and make some sweet cash. Problem is, with running you have to work for the high, so it's one not everyone will bother with.  Natural highs get better over time, building on themselves; unnatural highs get worse over time. We were built to run, to catch our prey (see the book "Born To Run) and thus we are rewarded. 
When we do things that are good for life, we get rewarded. Life has its own instinct and own built in reward system. Life wants to go on, so when we strengthen ourselves, we are given a high.  That's the reason for the pleasures of sex, food, being physically fit.... Nature is built by a grand designer with built in failsafes to make sure life goes on.
Babies and puppies are cute so we don't eat them.
Conversely, addiction is trying to 'cheat' nature and get a high we didn't earn. Unnaturally.  We are trying to cheat our body chemically, and thus there is a debt to pay.  And each time we try to cheat it, we are left a little worse off.  It's the Bizarro, anti-training, that spirals downward..
As someone who has experienced most of the highs that the world has to over, I'm so grateful to have running (and skiing and biking and lifting, but mostly running) as my go-to drug of choice. Running is a true spiritual experience that detoxes the brain, enriches the soul, strengthens the body, rearranges emotions, and lets all the pieces fall into place so that after each run I'm a new being. 
Add to that the communal feeling of a running event, and transcending yourself past previously superficially imposed barriers, and it's a very psychedelic, long, strange trip.


Sometimes the lights all shining on me, other times I can barely see

With my tendency to be obsessive--,for looking at basic living and saying "you follow those rules"-- I also have a tendency to get wrapped up in other diversions and have plunged into following my goals of writing fiction.
Growing up, writers were my heroes, and so I literally made a bucket list with 'writing a novel' near the top.
Running is a form of physical expression same way writing is a form of expression.  While none of my novels are autobiographical, in each of them I have followed the adage 'write what you know.'  Stray is based on my experiences as a substance abuse therapist (I also volunteered for a 100 hours at a animal shelter) and The Jade Rabbit is a combination of my experiences at a runaway shelter, my life as a marathoner, and my personal experience with adoption from China.
And every run I take a do a little writing in my head. About forty-five minutes in to any run my writing mojo is released. Running makes my ideas more grand, makes them flow, and lubricates everything so loose associations flow through my veins. I have great ideas, my characters have conversations, my plots turn incredible and I am master of the universe.  ROAR!!!

But then I return home and the reality of putting this on paper hits and it doesn't always translate. I may have unique and grand ideas that sound good at the time, but then they don't translate to the story and I never get them on paper.
So, I will continue to do my best to run through these posts, paragraphs, and digressions at pace that hopefully feels challenging, strengthening, and inspiring, and that at the end of them I hope you feel refreshed and found your time here worth while.


Read "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 


Reviews of The Jade Rabbit


Read "STRAY", by Mark Matthews 
Reviews of "STRAY"
 

GUEST BLOG POST - Memory Burning Movie Quotes

(So, I was complaining to a co-worker/friend about my ailments of late.  Been sick, not running, unmotivated, not writing, when she asked what she could do.  "Write me a guest blog post" I quipped.  Well, I woke up this morning to this post on my doorstep. Enjoy, and with just one word of encouragement, she will be putting herself out there on her own blog.)

Here's Johnny!
Memory Burning Movie Quotes

"… the second star to the right,  and straight on till morning.""I'd love to kiss you but I just washed my hair." And of course the all too familiar"You can't handle the truth!!"I am willing to bet that all of these quotes evoke some sort of image personal to each and every one of you. I know that for me personally I hear a British accent when I read the first one. I hear a rough and tumble Bette Davis with the second, and a convicted, forceful Jack Nicholson with the last. I believe when a screenwriter sets about writing the screenplay for a movie or TV show they don't know what will or won't be accepted and become a huge part of pop culture. It's amazing to me how many lines from movies or television work their way into our lives. If I were to say " How YOU doin'?" Would you know what I was referencing? Would it make you smile? Would the name Joey Tribiani click for you? It's not that the phrase wasn't used prior to the hit sitcom Friends, it's more that you can't help but hear Joey saying it now. It's forever immortalized in Pop Culture.

When Mr. Matthews off-handedly mentioned me guest-blogging for him I basically told him he was crazy. I am not currently, what I would call, a "Blogger." Essentially, I ramble on incessantly about things that I'm thinking at the time with little or no regard to how an "audience" will take it. It's just what I'm thinking and in the mood to share with whomever is reading. Are you sufficiently confused yet? Are you bored? Hey YOU!!!! In the sweatshirt, slurping your coffee THIS IS NOT A TEST, Please vacate your daze and follow along, I promise you won't be disappointed. If you are disappointed…well that's just too damn bad, cuz for the current moment I'm all you've got.  Anyhow, now that particular tangent is over let me get back to my story, where was I? Oh yes, being asked to write this blog entry. As you have no doubt noticed my writing style couldn't be further from Mr. Matthews'. His writing is always definitive, intelligent and quite honestly engaging. I feel a bit more free, as I have absolutely no expectations, unless you count me expecting you to roll your eyes and laugh at me or even to skip this post entirely. I hope for the sake of experiments, that you might just continue reading. So, asked to write a post this is what came into my mind, Top 10 Kristi Picks of Movie Quotes to Everyday Life. So, here you have it. Enjoy or don't. Agree or disagree. The reality is for these few hundred words, it's what I'm thinking. I hope it at least takes you back. I'm not putting them in any particular order that is entirely too much work. Top 10 Kristi Picks of Movie Quotes to Everyday Life
10. You can't handle the truth!!!~ Definitely a classic example of a movie quote making its way into the everyday vocabulary of the common man. Even if you haven't seen A Few Good Men, you are still pretty familiar with this quote. It's used in many parodies or representations of the same situation. My favorite would have to be by Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar. Nothing like a little Jim Carrey to make you laugh until you pee your pants. 9.  …Bond, James Bond.~ Enough said.8. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.~ I think this is one of my favorites. You don't necessarily hear "gin joints" when people paraphrase this line, but you hear it all the time. Of all the stores in all the towns…. Of all the little pet shops in all the towns. Wait a minute….Anyhow, its completely classic.7. You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?~ Hah this one is used everywhere. Comedies mostly nowadays, but seriously? Thanks Mr. DeNiro you are forever immortalized.6. Run Forrest, RUN!!!~ Only, insert whosever name you so desire in the place of Forrest. I cannot hear anyone say these words without thinking of Forrest Gump. 5. Toto. I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. Oh yeah, this one is paraphrased and used so commonly it's just there. Never to go away. Used in movies, books, TV and for us mere mortals in everyday conversation.4.May the force be with you. The force is strong with this one.~ It doesn't matter what quote you use from this epic franchise, the whole point is, it's used every day. George Lucas…you created a monster3.You complete me. You had me at hello. Show me the money.~ I'm lumping these all together because the amount of quotes that are used regularly from Jerry McGuire are ridiculous. My own Dad uses SHOW ME THE MONEY so often, it's a family joke. I see people jokingly saying  "you complete me." All the time. Raise your hand if you've ever attempted to fake sign "you complete me" to a friend/significant other or family member. <<raises hand>>


 2. There's no crying in baseball!~ Yep, only insert any form of any activity here and you have an icon of a quote. I'm starting to see a trend here. Tom Hanks you get really good roles.  Anyhow, who doesn't remember or love that scene? 1.Nobody puts Baby in a corner.~ Okay, I know I know what you are all thinking. She picked THAT one to end with. Well, the truth is we could go on forever. These iconic phrases are used in today's vocabulary and phraseology, like salt and pepper on steak. I just know these are some that I believe will stick around forever.
Just to make some of the people happy, here's a list of a few Honorable Mentions, because I just couldn't leave them out, and I didn't feel like doing a top 20.I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too! Wizard of OzI'm melting, I'm melting. Wizard of OzI feel the need, the need for speed. Top GunMy precious. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers and Return of the KingHere's Johnny! The ShiningSay 'hello' to my little friend!! ScarfaceWe'll always have Paris. CasablancaIf you build it, he will come. Field of Dreams
I won't torture you anymore. If you made it all the way through this post, I appreciate you and I hope you smiled at least once and had a good memory montage in your head. Don't worry, all your future posts will be from Mr. Matthews.
Salut!K.H.

Two Weeks Off Your Feet And Building A Better Mousetrap

I was once told, when mapping out and planning your marathon training, to build in two weeks for absences from running where you will be off your feet for unexpected situations. This can be due to injury or illness, and isn't necessarily consecutive, but the premise being you are bound to get sick, injured, or hammered by life on the way and need to take unexpected time off running.
Well, I just used about about 10 days of my two weeks with a heinous sinus infection that has clawed its way deep into my mucus membranes. And it's not one of those "should I run or shouldn't I run" sicknesses, its been more like one of those "I can't ever imagine running again" ones. I tried the zinc, vitamin C route, tried the antibiotic route, and my next step is local exorcists. 

So, no running, not sharp enough to write, but some human experiences.  Man vs. Mouse.

I was pouring my favorite cereal dessert, Reeses Puffs, when a few yummy nuggets fell out of a slit in the side of the bag. Thinking nothing of it, I finished the cereal, and when I went to put the box away, noticed a nice little critter chewed a hole in the side of the box.

Oh no! I recognized the chewings from my Hamsters of yesteryear.  More investigation revealed multiple mouse droppings in the cabinet. We had a mouse, he was eating my reeses pieces, and this naked aggression would not stand.  Sure, i could have made him my little Mr. BoJangles, but not with his lack of respect.  I only imagine what was in that bowl of cereal.



So, I shopped for mousetraps, and found this cool plastic tunnel thing that snapps shut on the critter when they go inside and sends them to mouse heaven. I decided to use the very thing the mouse was attracted to for bait and stuffed Reeses Puffs into the mouse trap.

If only everything worked so well.  BAMN!  Snagged one on the first night.  Got Em. LIfe was back to normal.


But, not so fast, after scouring clean the cabinet of rat poop and other potential microscopic rodent fece material, I returned in the middle of the lite of day to find evidence of another mouse.    Back to get more rat traps, where this time I rubbed a little peanut butter on the resses puffs, and this fellow being a lot more gutsy or just less desirous to live without his friend, went for the bait five minutes after lights out that same night, and before I even fell asleep "SNAP!" got him.

Ingredients for Trapping A Mouse
Of course, there could be more than these two out there, but  traps on the floor - locked and loaded -- remain out and untouched, no sign of any nibbling anywhere.  Once my sickness gets over with, whenever that will be, I will go back to the war on the outside, but for now it's man versus mouse.




***Update:  Another Mouse sighting!  They're back. Oh no!  How the heck are they getting in?  Then again, maybe they are figments of my "going crazy because I can't run" brain and will cease and desist with my next eight miler. ***

MARATHON DREAMS

After seeing my doctor already once this week, I had to crawl back to her office. Now I have a monstrously evil and green sinus infection.  Fortunately, I also have a big blue bottle of antibiotics.   It's a blue versus green battle. Go Blue.Note to self:  when you get well again and feel like you are ready for running, you aren't.  When you feel you are ready to run, then you should actually wait another day or two and then you might be ready.Nobody loves us as much as our dogs and as our five year old children. My five year said to me, "Daddy, I am going to wish on the first star I see tonight that nobody in the world ever gets sick again."So sweet, but until the star comes out, I will be sick and accept it, and in the meantime, spend the time resting, sleeping, and dreaming.I'm a big believer in the interpretation of dreams. It unites us.  There is something about the collective unconsciousness of all of humankind that appears in our unfiltered thoughts, a messy kaleidoscope of psychic barf that lands on the floor, tiny chunks of our head mixed in with undecipherable muck, but still somewhat recognizable as crazy as it all looks.  I am sure our ancestors had some of the same primal fears we do; dreams of falling, of flying, of being stuck in wet cement or swamp water and needing to run but feeling powerlessness.
I hope I wake before I land! Lebowski in a flying dream

Well, the realm of marathoning has crept it's way into my dreams, sprouting like tulips into my sleeping thoughts  from time to time,  and it's probably no surprise. When something really scares you, invigorates you, enlivens all of your senses and has been subliminally implanted into your psyche and soul, it will inevitably end up in your dreams.

After many years of training, the physical experiences have left a mark, a permanent psychological imprint.  The dreams are as likely to happen if I am training for a marathon or not. There have been many of them, and some go like this:Usually I am trying to finish the marathon but I am lost. The route follows a maze, often actually going into buildings, up and down fire escapes, through the windows and then back out the front of a building. (which would be cool, right, but of course, in the dream I am frantic.) I've lost the rest of the crowd, possibly never to find them again, and the whole idea that months and months of training are lost, all for naught, pooof! Out the door, and it's not just that I  wasted a  day, but I've wasted six months,  wasted my whole running life, I'm living a meaningless existence cause I'm lost, adrift at sea with no compass to guide me and forever forgotten…Okay, I'm sensationalizing a bit, but there is huge panic being lost and unable to find the marathon course.I have also had this same dream of being the leader of a marathon, in first place, but I have to follow these dotted lines to the finish but they zig-zag all over the place.In one dream I showed up marathon morning in a pair of bowling shoes.  They were the big floppy kind that might of well have been clown shoes.In another dream I was at the start but I had forgotten my shorts, so there I stood in thick cotton sweat paints, debating if I should try to make it home to get my gear (it was a big marathon and 40,000 people needed to get out of the  starting chute, giving me probably 20 minutes) or just run as is.So, I guess these are versions of showing up to school in your underwear, forgetting to study for a test, and all our deepest silliest impossible to understand fears coming true.  And if nothing else, I wake up with gratitude knowing it was just a bad dream, just a lesson that things could be must worse, dreams could come true.  Wishing on stars, on the other hand always works.I looked at a couple dream interpretations regarding marathons. Here's one:MarathonTo dream that you are running in a marathon represents life's journey and how you are performing or feeling. It is symbolic of your endurance and willpower. Consider how you feel about the marathon and how you are approaching it.And here's a post with the same running fears.. NY times Post on Marathon DreamsSo, I don't think I have ever solicited for comments on this blog. Mostly because my fear is that the only folks who read it are my cousins down south and some guy from India who googled 'Dobby'.  But, I am curious if anyone has had these dreams, or am I that strange of a bird.
Hello Dobby Lovers.




Read "The Jade Rabbit" - A story of a miraculous marathon run, 


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Read "STRAY", by Mark Matthews 
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