Mid-Atlantic Tough Mudder Report - Part Two

Continued from Part One which can be found HERE.

We blasted out of the starting gate into the crisp Sunday morning air with a couple hundred other screaming Mudders.

Braveheart Charge - I like this one better when you charge downhill. In NorCal it was an uphill and usually within a few minutes the wild, screaming hoard turns into a walking, panting mess. Downhill feels more untamed and sadly, if you lose too much control and are not careful you could turn an ankle and end your run before it even started. Ramon and I stripped off our garbage bags and we ran into our first snow cannon of the day. The air temp was in the low 50's (F) so all that was being spewed from the snow cannon was a cool mist that chilled to the bone. Now we were awake.
After a long uphill run came the first...

Berlin Wall - Ramon and I both remarked how this wall seemed higher than all the previous Mudders we had completed. Not sure if that is an accurate statement but it sure seemed that way. Now, you can have other Mudders help you over the wall or you can use the strategically placed block that is bolted into the wall just below waist height to get a foothold and boost yourself over. Ramon went first and used the block and vaulted himself over. Without using the block I jumped as high as I could and grabbed the top of the wall and pulled myself over. We both repeated the same process for the second wall.
I have one note of caution/advice for future Mudders out there when taking on this obstacle. When you reach the top of the wall with some assistance from a friend or stranger be aware of your flailing legs please. I've seen too many selfless Mudders get a face full of feet for their act of kindness. Check out the pic below of some poor sucker's rearranged face.

We then ran another downhill, which are bittersweet because it usually means another torturous uphill is just around the corner. Since the start of the run I had been struggling with my cargo shorts and my Vale Tudo shorts underneath. Both were determined to slide down just far enough to give the fine people of Virginia an eyefull of my untanned ass. While I ran down the steep slope I held out my left arm for balance while my right hand was firmly clamped onto my waist band. It was all I could do to keep my shorts from falling down around my ankles. Near the middle of the hill I heard "Nice plumber's crack!". I turned around to see a smiling Marine running behind me. I laughed. Immediately I spotted a discarded long sleeved compression shirt on the ground and with Ramon's help fashioned it into a lovely makeshift belt. Problem solved.
At the bottom of the hill we made a hairpin turn and ran into...

Bale Bonds - A few rows of huge cylindrical hay bales separated by mud and all being doused by another snow cannon. Not a very difficult obstacle, but a fun one. This was followed by another crazy ascent up the mountain that was broken up by...

Devil's Beard - This is a tightly strung nylon cargo net that is bolted into the ground that you have to crawl under. Easy enough. It's always helpful when other Mudders stand by the start and finish of this obstacle and hold the net up for easier navigation like my man shown below...

Hold Your Wood - It was right around this obstacle that I noticed I was nervous. My hands and legs were shaking like I had just drank a pot of coffee. My stomach had butterflies and I wasn't sure why. For this one we each grabbed our own logs and walked a good distance over some rolling hills. The lap was punctuated by one of those pesky snow cannons again. The mist was building up a fair amount of mud which made the walk a little more dangerous.

Funky Monkey - The infamous monkey bars over cold water obstacle. Ramon and I are both undefeated with this obstacle and planned to stay that way. This one is tricky. Each of the rungs tend to spin a bit so you have to make sure you have a good solid grip before proceeding to the next rung. Act like Tarzan and move too fast on this one and you're getting wet. I've heard of many big injuries here when people fall into the shallow water and break parts of themselves. For that reason I never approach this obstacle overconfident. But alas, today was again our day. We agilely defeated Funky Monkey again. The record stands at 5-0.
There was one new development that we saw with this obstacle that I have to applaud. There have been some people who take this on by climbing on top of the rungs and crawling up and over to the other side. Well, Big Mudder was watching and this morning we saw a TM worker with a staple gun and barbed wire creating a barrier that prevented any sneaky Mudders from taking the easy way out. Nicely done Big Mudder.
Another bit of advice for future Mudders; don't wear gloves on this one. They are usually wet and slick with mud which make it harder to get a good grip. What I have found works best is when you spit on your bare hands and rub them together vigorously to create that tacky, stickiness. It's never let me down.

Twinkle Toes - After a long trail run came this one. F'n Twinkle Toes. The balance beam over muddy water. Did I ever mention how much I hate F'n Twinkle Toes? Not sure what my record on this one is but I'm pretty sure I've failed more times than I've succeeded. My nervousness was really kicking in here and my legs began to quiver as I approached the beam. There wasn't a huge backup here so it was pretty much one person at a time. It can get tricky when you have more than one person per beam. The wobbles can get nasty. I tried the slow and steady method and felt fine till about the midway point. Then the beam and I got the wobbles. Without turning my head I shouted over to Ramon on the other beam. "How's it goin' over there?!". He said all was well just as things for me started to become unwell. I crouched down as the wobbles got worse. Then, I did the biggest pussy move ever. I sat down on the beam, straddled it and inched my way across to the other side. I really hate admitting that. I should have just toughed it out and either gone for broke or taken a mud bath like a man. It's the second time I have used that method on Twinkle Toes and I vow that it will be the last. Ramon made it across bone dry like a champ.

Cherynoble Jacuzzi - This was it. If you've ever been through this one then you know. It's the worst. It's a dumpster filled with ice, water and red or green dye and more ice. It's not just the cold that gets you, it's the aching pain your muscles feel when you enter this. It's like your body knows this type of environment you've voluntarily thrown it into is wrong and violently fights back in protest. I talked to Will, the founder of Tough Mudder about this and he described the feeling perfectly. He said, "It's like a brain freeze, but over your entire body." Pretty sure this picture below captures the feeling accurately...

Another pat on Big Mudder's back here is the way they "fixed" this one. I did an earlier version of this obstacle (which you can read about HERE) where we were to eat a hot pepper and jump into the dyed dumpster water and then jump out. Besides the hot pepper nearly killing me it was easy as cake. I first experienced the newly mutated version of Cherynoble at NorCal where there seemed to be more ice than water and, to prevent you from wading across the water submerged only up to your chest, they bolted a wooden barrier adorned with barbed wire across the midway point which forces you to get completely submerged. What NorCal had that Virginia didn't was a team of volunteer Marines busting your chops while you were suffering. Love that.
We approached the obstacle like dead men walking. The butterflies in my stomach were in a frenzy. Ramon and I climbed up the side and stood on the edge of the dumpster and shared some funny words with the volunteer workers who were using a big old bulldozer to dump the ice into our jacuzzi. Ramon looked at me, "You go first." he said. The dumpster is just wide enough for two people to go at the same time so I figured he wanted me to go first for safety reasons and that he would be right by my side as soon as I got situated. The shock of hitting the water was as expected. Pain. The goal was to move as fast as possible. I ducked under the wooden barrier and found something strange when I popped out the other side. The (at least) two foot thick layer of ice on top of the water created an unexpected barrier between me and the surface world. It wasn't deadly or dangerous or anything like that, just unexpected. My head slammed into the ice and broke through. Amid screams I scampered for the side and and hoisted myself out and onto the ladder and then turned immediately to offer a helping hand to my partner Ramon who was no doubt feeling the same pain as me. I looked across the dumpster and my good buddy was still perched on the opposite end of the dumpster like a giggling little prima donna. What the fuck?! "GO!" I yelled. This made Ramon laugh harder. He was trying to ask me something while standing there bone dry but I guess the sight of me and his fit of laughter made it hard for him to talk. The bitter cold was making the adrenaline surge through my veins and my patience was non-existent at this point. I didn't have a mirror with me but if I did I'm sure I would have been reminded of Bill Bixby from the great 1970's TV show when the iris's in his eyes switched to white right before going into Hulk mode.

With a primal scream which even shocked myself I silenced my laughing friend, "JUST FUCKING GO!!!!!" Looking like he had been hit with a cattle prod, Ramon jumped into the jacuzzi and the results were the same as mine. Screams and four-letter words filled the air.
As we were leaving Cherynoble I had noticed my butterflies were now gone and my nervous shakes were no more. Was this what I was worried about? Not sure if I'll ever know. We both made our way to the next obstacle sharing the heartiest laughs of the day.

After a quick cargo net climb a heat shield was offered and declined. It's amazing how invigorating an ice bath can make you. All the exhaustion from the previous hill climbs seemed to disappear. Next came another hill climb, and then...

Greased Lightning - I always thought this was pure fun. Just a big old water slide. What's strange is that I've heard of many injuries stemming from this one. Hell, at the very first Tough Mudder in 2010 they had to shut this one down because people were getting jacked up. My wife shot this pic of some unlucky Joe who had the back of his head opened up for him after playing on the Mudder's version of a Slip-N-Slide...

In another case, one of my earliest childhood buddies contacted me and told me he was planning on doing the Vermont Tough Mudder this year. I told him to call me when he had finished and to no doubt tell me how much he loved it. After waiting until nightfall and still hearing nothing I texted my friend to see how everything went. I received a text that read, "leaving emrgcy room now, call u soon.". We later spoke and he told me how he gathered up too much speed and careened wildly off the side, completely missing the pool at the bottom. He tumbled end over end down the ski slope and dislocated his shoulder.
No such drama for Ramon and myself here today. Once again, fun-fun-fun. Just look at us silly kids...

Boa Constrictor - This one is one of those that went from worst-to-first. The early versions of this were a joke. Crawl through a tube. Big deal. Set the same tube on an angle, fill tube with mud and sharp rocks, have tube spill out into cold water followed by another tube and you have a completely different animal. This day's version wasn't that bad though. They spared us by not having so many sharp rocks in the tube (as (not) seen below)...

Underwater Tunnels - Kind of like an above ground pool full of filthy water straddled with logs and barbed wire that you have to duck under. Fairly easy. Just another excuse to keep you cold and wet. Here we are exiting this one...

As a bonus, here's one of Satan's children that did this obstacle as well...

Death March - This one was official. Not like there weren't about a dozen other "death marches" on the course, this was the real thing. It's just plain tough. Every now and then I would walk backwards to alleviate the stress on my calf muscles but it hardly worked. Making my way up this one was a bitch. Check the ball of energy below...

Kiss of Mud - Your standard belly crawl in the mud under barbed wire. Trenches were carved into the ground by all the previous Mudders. If you aren't properly hydrated this is one of the obstacles where cramping will occur. Ramon made it through easily but I (like an idiot) got my makeshift belt hung up on a barb and couldn't free myself. With the help of a fellow Mudder I was good to go.

After a long run we came upon "Tired Yet?" which is a field of car tires laying on their sides which you have to hop across like an old school football drill. Easy enough, but if you are already exhausted it's less quick hopping and more big stepping. Then came "Log Jammin'", "Bale Bonds" (the official version) and "Berlin Walls" (part 2). Each of these are one of the up-and-over type obstacles which again, are easy enough but contribute to your overall exhaustion. Another run uphill brought us to the...

Mystery Obstacle - We approached the top of the hill and there was a watering station that was blasting some tunes. As if on cue the kick-ass song "Jessie's Girl" by the immortal Rick Springfield came on as we rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of the strange construction. The sight, coupled with the music created quite a surreal scene to say the least. I happily sung along with Mr. Springfield as I went to get doused with water by the TM worker holding the hose (seen below)...

We were instructed to climb the ladders and lift the black flaps. When we saw a light we were supposed to count to three and then go. Huh? After lifting the black plastic flap and looked down. With a small amount of sunlight that was peeking in the bottom which was mixed with smoke I could see about a 4-6 foot vertical drop. At the bottom was a tight transition that looked like it would eject you down the mountain. Now heights don't scare me but this drop straight down gave me pause. I hesitated for a beat, and then jumped feet first making sure to hold my hands out in front of myself so as not to whack my head against the opposite side of the chute. I spilled out onto the black tarp through a cloud of smoke. Here is what the exit looks like...

I turned and looked for Ramon and saw nothing. Around five seconds later he came flying out laughing. We talked about how we were both hesitant of that first drop straight down. Another good one Tough Mudder.

Next came "Kinky Tunnels" which was a plywood constructed series of zig-zagging tunnels which are probably really tough if you are claustrophobic. I'm not, and they weren't. Next was a clever obstacle with an even cleverer name called "Shake and Bake". First we were to take a dip in some muddy water and then military crawl under some barbed wire across a field of sand. We emerged from this obstacle looking crispy-coated. Funny stuff. I grew concerned about being covered with sand and having to run. If you've ever run a considerable distance I'm sure you know about chafing. Sand can only make things worse. Not to worry though, because next up was...

Turd's Nest - This gets my vote for the day's "most improved". Basically it's a cargo net strewn across two platforms that you have to go across. No big deal, I've done it before. This time Big Mudder added an antagonizing Marine holding a water cannon who would blast you in the face while you tried to make it to the other side. Funny stuff. This one was great but I'm not sure the poor guy/girl below thinks so...

Everest - This is the one that typifies true Tough Mudder camaraderie. It's basically a skateboard 1/4 pipe that you need a running start to run up and either grab the lip or an outstretched hand of another Mudder to help you up onto the deck. The other way is to create a human ladder like shown in the picture below (which is my favorite shot of the day for obvious reasons)...

I got into a crouched stance and spotted a helpful Mudder on the top deck and pointed at him. He pointed back and it was go time. I ran, jumped up, grabbed the lip and the hand of the helpful Mudder and was up with no problem. I thanked the guy who happened to be with Chris and the crew who were the guys blasting the Rollins Band who parked next to us earlier that morning (which I wrote about in part one). I then turned and lay down on the deck and reached out to help Ramon and other Mudders make it to the top. Ramon failed on his first try but blasted up and over on his second. Then came the one guy who just couldn't make it up. We kept reaching for him and shouting words of advice and encouragement but with each failure you could see the exhaustion on his face. Me, Ramon and the guys around me weren't going anywhere. We would stay there all day until this exhausted knucklehead made it to the top. Eventually we devised a way that our legs were anchored by other Mudders so that we could get more of a lean and longer reach over the side. The dude grabbed onto or hands which caused the surrounding crowds to erupt in applause. The stranger thanked us and we told him that he wasn't going anywhere. "You lay your ass down and pay it forward." He smiled and started helping other Mudders up the obstacle.
If I could take a moment to rant (not like this isn't long enough as it is) I would like to say a few words about the Tough Mudders who fly through the course with a time of 1 hour and 50 minutes or less. I really applaud your physical prowess and all, but there is no way you are doing any of the shit I just wrote about. I kind of feel sad for you really. To me, it's moments like this that make me love Tough Mudder as much as I do. I assume your motives are more self centered, which I guess is fine. Seems shallow to me though. That's it, rant over.

Firewalker - The iconic run through flaming bales of hay. Depending on the wind (or lack thereof) this can be a breeze or very dangerous. Today the smoke was thick as pea soup and had me choking from the burning sensation in my throat and lungs. Ramon had to use the assistance of a fireman standing nearby telling him which way to go because he nearly ran straight into a wall of fire. Toughest version of this I have ever faced right there.


Electroshock Therapy - The last obstacle. I was there in Jersey for the first version of this and a lot has changed since then. You are now doused with water before entering the field of electrically charged dangling wires. The ground is slick with mud and littered with hay bales to prevent you from running through this as fast as possible. Take your medicine like a big boy. Ramon and I went through getting blasted three times each. When people ask me what it feels like I usually say that it is akin to being stung by a wasp or a hornet. It sucks.

We crossed the finish in around 3 and a half hours and collected our orange headbands, tshirt and complimentary beer. We both decided to go to the car and get changed and come back to enjoy the post-run party. After using the outdoor hoses provided to wash off the mud we made the slow walk to Ramon's car. I was a little self conscious as I was stripped down to my wet, yellow, white and green skin tight Vale Tudo shorts that left little to the imagination. I hardly cared though. We had been through a war and you couldn't say shit to us.

We got back to the party nice and dry and grabbed another beer. For the first time we tried the keg toss which was fun. Distance was fine but accuracy was not. The live band finished playing and the very energetic emcee grabbed the mic and announced a pushup contest was about to begin. The participants were already lined up and they needed official counters. We volunteered and I found my guy. He had a huge set of pecs and a thin waist. It looked like all he did was pushups. As they got down into starting position I kneeled down in front of my guy. When they began, the music was pumping so I had to lean in a few inches from the face of my guy and shout the numbers out loud so he could monitor his progress. His pushups were very short and very quick, definitely not the kind I like to do when I work out. After a couple minutes people started dropping out. Coincidentally it came down to Ramon's guy and my guy. In the end, my guy won with 252 pushups. He got a free pass to any upcoming Mudder for his win.
After the contest I turned and saw the face of some guy smiling at me. "Are you the guy from the video?". Yup. "My kids just love watching that, can my wife take your picture with them?" I was honored. The kids were probably around 4 and 6 years old and looked up at me with big wide eyes. Not sure if it was inappropriate but I tussled the hair on both of their heads and smiled a big smile for them. They laughed and we took a nice picture. I thanked the nice family and Ramon and I walked off for or last beer of the day.

I noticed that my mother had died exactly one week ago at around the same time it was then, 1:20 pm. What is incredibly ironic is that Ramon's father had died exactly 10 years ago on the exact date, October 16th, and the exact day, Sunday. Not sure what Ramon was thinking and I didn't ask, but I silently toasted my mom that day. I'm not going to say anything like I felt my mom's presence that day or she gave me strength from the great beyond to overcome all obstacles. I hate all those sappy, hollywood, bad drama movie cliches that get people all teary-eyed. I will say though, that if she were alive she would have told me how wreckless I was being for doing such crazy shit on a mountain in Virginia. I wish you were there to see me mom, you would of hated it.
I love you.

Mid-Atlantic Tough Mudder Report - Part One

It's been a fucked up week.

My mother died last Sunday, October 16th, 2011. I am saddened beyond words and the feelings are too intimate at this time to share on the internet. Her funeral was on Wednesday.

On Thursday I paid my first visit to the Tough Mudder Headquarters in Brooklyn, NY. I will give out all the details of my visit and my reason for being there when the time is right. All I will say is that everyone I met at TMHQ was exactly how I hoped they would be. They are kind, generous, quick to smile and are the type of people you wish all the success in life upon. I'm proud to be connected to them in a small way.

The following weekend my friend Ramon and I were planning on running in the Mid-Atlantic Tough Mudder at the Wintergreen Resort in Virginia. Given the recent tragedy in my family the possibility of me dropping out was there, but not seriously considered. Like a true Mudder, perseverance has to be a dominant trait. I sent a text message after my mother's funeral to Ramon letting him know that we were going to Tough Mudder no matter what.

The plan was to drive down to Virginia from eastern Pennsylvania, a five hour drive. Since money is tight we would sleep in Ramon's car on Saturday night and run in the first wave on Sunday morning. The gear we brought was pretty minimal. Kind of like when I pack for vacation, I usually just throw a few things in a couple plastic grocery bags. This drives my wife nuts. During the long ride down Ramon showed me the Facebook photos on his phone of that day's Mudder that were just posted. We grew excited and then we noticed that we didn't see anyone running shirtless. Ramon and I had planned to run bare-chested without really knowing what the weather and temperature would be like. Like I said, we hardly had any gear with us so we were slightly concerned. Not much, just slightly. While I was looking down at the phone a deer ran onto the highway a few car lengths in front of us and had his life ended rather violently. We slowed down and drove past the carnage hoping that it wasn't a sign of things to come.

The sun was setting when we arrived at Wintergreen Resort and tons of cars packed with newly christened Mudders drove passed us in the opposite direction. We laughed as we saw orange headband after orange headband zoom on by. At the base of the mountain was a brewery/restaurant called Devil's Backbone so we decided to stop on in for a few beers and a bite to eat. It was probably around 7pm and we had a bunch of time to kill before we would hit the hay so the long wait for a table was no problem at all. The place was packed with Mudders who were licking their wounds, sharing some drinks and spinning stories about the day's events. Ramon and I joined a few conversations before we were seated at our table.

I was working on my second stout when Ramon and I started talking to an orange headbanded Mudder who was standing by our table. He was a nice guy named Nick who was from the area and had the welcoming accent to prove it. We grilled him about the course he gave up as many details he could remember. Then mid sentence and with that southern twang he says, "Aren't you that guy from the video?" I smiled sheepishly and said yeah. Ramon always gets a kick out of that and yells, "The Mustache Man!". In fact, he will yell that at random times when we run a Mudder just to see other people react and turn their heads and look at me. Sometimes he'll stand next to me and just yell "MUSTACHE!" which always cracks me up and makes me look like an attention grabbing whore. What makes that funny is, if you knew me, you'd know I was the exact opposite. Anyway, we talked with Nick a little longer and he offered us a spare bedroom at a lodge he had rented right at the resort. The lodge was so close to the event site that we could actually walk to the starting line if we chose. He told us his friends who had rented the room had already left and it was ours if we wanted. The offer was generous and very tempting but I knew Ramon felt the same as me and we didn't want to impose. He told us the address and said to stop by anytime the lights were on. Nick excused himself when our food came. I had a veggie burger with sweet potato fries and Ramon had a smoked turkey sandwich. Not sure why you needed to know that.

We left the restaurant at around 9:30 and while crossing the parking lot Ramon noticed a shooting start soaring across the sky. He commented that this was now the good omen that erased the bad omen of the mangled deer on the highway. Soon after we found a nice, dark parking spot and settled in for the night. I simply kicked back in the front passenger seat and covered up with two Mexican blankets. Ramon stretched out in the back of his SUV. We were sleeping soundly within minutes. Unfortunately after about an hour I think we were both awake and drifted in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night. I remember a strange dream of foiling a carjacking and stomping the criminal into an egg yolk (?!).

We were awakened around 5:30am by Mudders pulling into spaces around us hooting and hollering. One car pulled right along side of us totally blasting a song by the Rollins Band, "Low Self Opinion", which happens to be one of my favorite songs by them. All I could do is smile and mouth the words quietly as I rose from a cold night of very little sleep to kick the coming day straight in the ass.

We rolled out of the car and went to the registration area just as the sun was starting to peak over the mountains. We got our wristbands and our foreheads markered up with our bib numbers and returned to the car to get changed for the event. One guy from the group parked next to us that was playing Rollins started talking to us. "Hey, you're that guy from the video, right?" he said. His name was Chris, nice guy. We took a picture together and then his group took off for the start. For this event I decided to wear some cargo shorts with tight, old school Vale Tudo type fight shorts underneath. I figured they were more sturdy than your typical spandex style compression shorts. No shirt up top and down below I wore my trusty pair of Vibram KSOs that have survived many Tough Mudders, and they look it. For the walk to the starting line Ramon and I wore plastic garbage bags to keep us warm until we started running. If you've ever been to any type of marathon in cooler weather I'm sure you've seen that technique.

We stepped up to join the 8:00 wave at the starting gate. The DJ was getting everyone pumped up and going through the usual announcements. Then a recording of the National Anthem was played as we all turned to face the flag. Now look, I'm no Bible pounding Republican. For the most part I'm pretty liberal. I strongly fight for individual rights in this country but when the National Anthem is played you remove your fucking hat. I don't care how long it took you to put on your bunny ears or your funny wig and Viking helmet. I'm no blind patriot but I have the utmost respect for the men and women in the armed forces both past and present. If they can put their lives on the line then I can sacrifice wearing something on my damn head for 79 seconds.

The Tough Mudder pledge was recited and the countdown began. Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" was blasted out of the speakers. If there is one bond that Ramon and I share it's the love of all of the Rocky movies. We constantly quote lines to each other and needless to say, this song had us frothing at the mouth.

The countdown reached zero and the first wave was unleashed on the mountain with a thunderous roar.

Continued in PART TWO...

Weakness.

I'm a Henry Rollins fan. Have been for over 25 years actually. If you are not sure who he is you can Google him if you like, it really doesn't matter for what I'm about to write. Anyway, I saw him live a bunch of times and even saw him with Black Flag in 1985. I got his autograph on his first self published book and I've read tons of his writings and listened to hours of his spoken word. Somewhere during my impressionable teen years I either read an interview or heard some spoken word or poem from Henry where he elaborated on weakness. I've scoured the internet for this "essay" but found nothing but I will clumsily try to sum it up here.

He said that a man takes a drink because he is weak. A man buys a gun because he is weak. A man strikes a woman because he is weak. And so on and so forth, you get the idea. Now I'm sure tons of people read those words from Henry like I did back then and just thought they were tough-guy ramblings from a punk rock poet. For me, the theme of those words stuck in my craw up until this day as I'm hurtling towards my fifth decade of life. Those silly words made me (and still make me) re-examine my life constantly and changed me immeasurably.

I love coffee. The stronger the better. I drank it for years starting in my early teens. By my twenties I would polish off a whole pot myself. Later I was drinking two French presses of hi-octane Colombian a day. I needed it to feel normal. The chemical controlled my moods. I was weak. I became angry that I allowed this goddam drink to control the way I felt and interacted with my family and friends. People that I love. I quit drinking coffee and never went back. Trust me, it wasn't easy, but I don't want to bore you with the struggle of kicking coffee. That's not what this is about.

Why do I eat a whole bag of potato chips in one sitting? Because I'm weak. Why do I lay in front of the TV for hours instead of exercising or reading a book? Because I'm weak. Why did I spend the entire afternoon sitting inside playing video games? Because I'm weak. These are all questions that I have asked myself and changed my life for the better after attacking these issues head on.

Will this type of self-analysis work for you? Maybe. Maybe not. For me, I needed to get angry with myself. Stop compromising and making excuses. Being 45 years old I probably have enough excuses saved up to reason away why I shouldn't be able to do certain physical acts and just slip into the quiet life of channel surfing but I always have those words ringing in my ears. Is it because you are older or is it because you are weak? I refuse to be weak.

That's about it. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for your time.

Push it real good.

After a full week of being bogged down with work I needed a release so I decided to get out for a run. Today in the northeast the temps were in the high nineties so I wasn't sure what to expect. Oftentimes I like to just go and not set a specific goal or distance. I listen to my body. If I feel good I keep going, if I feel crappy I try and push through or just cut it short. Just recently I read a blog post by a fellow message board member and barefoot runner who follows the same mindset and surprised himself and ran 30 miles! (http://www.mindyourheadcoop.org/blog/?p=1179)

Starting out I felt great. The warmth actually made my muscles feel loose and my barefoot form was clicking nicely. The heat didn't start to get to me until around the third mile. I knew right there that I had a perfect excuse to cut it short. I could tell myself, "Oh, it's too hot. I could get heat stroke. I'd better head back." But besides that nagging voice in my head I still felt pretty good. Fast forward to around mile five where the heat started winning, and this is where today's lesson begins...

You see, I knew that if I decided to start walking or take a little break under a shady tree it would be perfectly understandable. I mean, it was crazy of me to even be out running on a day like today, right? But what if I kept going? This is where the mental games began. I would tell myself, "After you get to that street sign you can walk for a block." But then, when I was just about to reach the street sign I would think, "What if I kept going? That would kick ass." And so the inner battle continued with me like that for another half hour. I never did stop and probably ended up running around eight miles or so.

Mentally pushing yourself is something you can train yourself to do in almost all of the menial aspects of your life. I remember when pushing myself physically, even when not working out, first dawned on me. It was many years ago around Christmas time and I was at a tree farm carrying a freshly cut Blue Spruce to mount on the top of my car. It was heavy as hell and my shoulder was humming in pain. I thought, "I should put this down for a minute and give it a rest." Then I thought, "Why not push yourself and carry it all the way to the car? In fact, don't set it down when you get to the car. Toss it through the air and have it land on top of the SUV." And that's what I did.

Today during my run there were two paths to my house I could have taken. One was a soft grassy shortcut and the other was a gravelly hill that added another two minutes to my run. I chose the hill. Even little things like rounding a corner when you are running on the street. You can cut the corner and hop on the curb or you can stay on the street and take the turn wide. At the supermarket you can park in the last spot and carry all the bags you can hold. You can take the stairs at work. You've probably heard all that stuff before but really, it adds up.

So right now as finish up typing this I'm pretty spent physically and I have every right to go lay down on the couch and watch the baseball game. But instead, I'm going to go ask my daughter if she wants to go outside and get some softball practice in. Push yourself and you will enrich your life more than you know.

Thanks for listening.

"Then die."

This is my favorite Bruce Lee story. It tells of an exchange between Bruce and his senior student Taky Kimura. At the time Bruce was a young man in his early twenties and Taky was in his forties like I am now. I used to tell my students this story years ago when I felt they weren't giving it their all. I'd like to thank Tom L. for bringing it to my attention once more. Hope you like it...

Bruce had me up to three miles a day, really at a good pace. We'd run three miles in twenty-one or twenty-two minutes. Just under eight minutes a mile. (Note: when running on his own in 1968, Lee would get his time down to six-and-a-half minutes per mile). So this morning he said to me "We're going to go five." He said, "When we get to three we'll shift gears and it's only two more and you'll do it." I said "Okay, hell, I'll go for it." So we get to three, we go into the fourth mile and I'm okay for three or four minutes, and then I really begin to give out. I'm tired, my heart's pounding, I can't go any more and so I say to him, "Bruce, if I run any more,"-and we're still running- "if I run any more I'm liable to have a heart attack and die." He said, "Then die." It made me so mad that I went the full five miles. Afterward I went to the shower and then I wanted to talk to him about it. I said, you know, "Why did you say that?" He said, "Because you might as well be dead. Seriously, if you always put limits on what you can do, physical or anything else, it'll spread over the rest of your life. It'll spread into your work, into your morality, into your entire being. There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level."

Who are you?

 When you get older or middle aged like myself you tend to look back on your life a lot and wonder if it really was a life well lived. Well, at least I do. While reading this morning I came across the words of Bruce Lee who once again mirrored my introspective thoughts exactly. His writings move me so often that I thought the only way to pass his sentiment along was to not provide a summary but reprint them word for word. Enjoy...

"I am learning to understand rather than immediately judge or to be judged. I cannot blindly follow the crowd and accept their approach. I will not allow myself to indulge in the usual manipulating game of role creation. Fortunately for me, my self-knowledge has transcended that and I have come to understand that life is best to be lived and not to be conceptualized. I am happy because I am growing daily and I am honestly not knowing where the limit lies. To be certain, every day there can be a revelation or a new discovery. I treasure the memory of the past misfortunes. It has added more to my bank of fortitude."

You CAN'T do anything you put your mind to...

If anyone tells you that you can they are either some type of self help guru looking to part you from your money or they don't have a firm grip on reality. Before you call me a cynic allow me to clear a few things up. First, I'll start with a story from my past...

I was never a great student. Night School and Summer School enrollment was fairly commonplace for me. Although I feel that I'm a somewhat intelligent guy that has a pretty firm grasp on the English language I failed English in my senior year of high school and was not allowed to graduate with my class. I had to finish my schooling that summer and receive my diploma in late July. I did my time in Summer School and refused to pick up my diploma. Now I am friends with at least three high school teachers that still don't know how to use "their", "they're" and "there" or "to", "two" and "too" properly and yet I was too incompetent to graduate with my class. Yeah, after 27 years I guess I'm still bitter. My own damn fault I guess.

My inability to live up to my potential followed me into Junior College where I was a Commercial Art major. All my life I have been blessed with being a pretty decent artist. Anybody that remembers me from school, elementary on up, knows that I was always the kid who was the best artist in school. So, when it came to my college years I never really had to try. I would ace all of my studio art classes without even trying.

One semester I had a Life Drawing class that was two days a week. A three hour class on Mondays and Wednesdays. A good friend of mine got a radio show on a local college station on Wednesday mornings so like a loyal friend I would skip out on most of my Wednesday classes and spin punk rock records for the good folks in the greater Lehigh Valley area of Pennsylvania. The end of the semester was rolling around and one of the class requirements was to keep a sketchbook throughout the year which was to be handed in at your final review. We were each given 20 minute slots in which we were to meet with the instructor and discuss our assignments and present our sketchbooks. The thing was, I never started my sketchbook. We were supposed to have at least 100 drawings of a variety of still life's and I didn't have one. The night before my review I sat down with an assortment of different colored charcols, pencils, pens and brushes in order to make it look like I completed this over a considerable length of time. Within a few hours I banged out the 100 drawings. I'm sure I could have done better but most of the drawings weren't half bad.

The next morning I strode into my final review with a sense of confidence. On all of my assignments I never scored below a high "B" so I assumed an "A" was in order with the addition of this killer sketchbook I had knocked out the night before. My instructor had all of my assignments spread out on a table in front of us. He picked up my sketchbook and flipped through about five pages, closed it, and threw it on top of the pile of my other assignments. I was shocked. Wasn't he going to check out the rest of my awesomeness that I pissed out the night before?

"Y'know, this is really good. It's a shame." What the hell?! Why shame?! No shame! He then proceeded to show me how many days I had missed his class. Then he lectured me about my unused potential. Frankly that was a speech I had heard a million times before. In one ear, out the other. Then he hit me with it, "What kind of grade do you think you deserve?" Now before coming in here I was thinking A or B but I didn't want to seem arrogant so I meekly replied "C?".

"Nah, I was thinking more a D or an F. In fact, it's real close. Are you a gambling man?" I stood silent not knowing how to answer. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it in the air. "Call it." I could barely squeak out the word "heads". The coin landed. "Heads it is. You got a D. Get your stuff and get out of here."

As I gathered my assignments in an awkward silence I felt him staring me down as I headed for the door. He then spoke the words that changed me. "Y'know, Carol comes to my class every day and busts her ass and she will never be half the artist you are." Boom. Direct hit. You see, Carol was this 40 something housewife who probably had some free time now that her kids were in school all day and she decided to follow her true passion and do art. She was never very good. In fact, she was horrible. Me and my young punk buddies would catch a peek of her working on her assignments and snicker quietly behind her back. But Carol really tried. She would stay late after class and was always asking questions and seemed to really want to learn. The sad reality of the situation was that she made very little improvement. Yet she still tried. Every day she tried.

To put this into perspective let's say I had a true passion for basketball. Let's say I happen to have a best friend growing up by the name of Michael Jordan. Growing up we were inseparable, going to the same basketball camps, doing the same skills and drills, playing the same games of pick-up. By the time high school rolled around, and with both of us having equal amounts of court time and knowledge of the game, Michael would, with the utmost certainty, be the far better basketball player. There's also a good chance that I might not even make the varsity team.

Why is life that way? I'm not sure. Some may think that we are born with certain talents and abilities and it's up to us to figure them out. Sometimes I'll watch those sad people in line at Walmart and wonder if that person is the World's Greatest Pogo Stick Champion but they have no clue because they've never been on one. Kinda makes you see a little good in everyone. Once again though, I digress.

The gist of my little story is this... The person who is great is not the person who does something a few times and becomes great. The person who is great is the person who does something many times, sees little to no improvement, yet keeps at it day after day. That my friends is TRUE strength. I can only hope that Carol is out there somewhere making masterpieces that put my stuff to shame.

Thanks for listening.