I CAN.

Choose your reason….
AND RUN

Quotes from Bill Bowerman

“God determines how fast you’re going to run; I can only help with the mechanics.”

“A teacher is never too smart to learn from his pupils. But while runners differ, basic principles never change. So it’s a matter of fitting your current practices to the event and the individual. See, what’s good for you might not be worth a darn for the next guy.”

“If you have a body, you are an athlete.”

“The greatest improvement is made by the man who works most intelligently.”

“Don’t give anything away. Never make it easy for the guys you are trying to beat.”

“The athlete makes himself, the coach doesn’t make the athlete.”

“You don’t run at the mouth, you run on the track.”

I recently took an entirely new shoe concept for a test spin. ECCO is a Danish shoe manufacturer and an international leader in comfort shoes and they have launched a bold new running shoe concept with the release of their BIOM. BIOM is based on the philosophy of allowing your foot to move freely in the direction that it was intended.
BIOM uses a classification system that moves away from conventional running shoe categories and is segmented as “Natural Motion”. BIOM orients itself to a runner’s training conditions, running type, and pace and offers three different models for runners ranging from competitive to recreational.

The construction and fit of BIOM concept was based on scanning the feet of 2500 runners. In addition, BIOM is the first shoe in the running industry to use a patented direct-inject technology to seamlessly infuse polyurethane (PU) to bond the shoe’s upper to the midsole providing full-length anatomical foot support. With this new philosophy, the foot is free to move, building muscle and strength for optimal performance.

To further refine their product, ECCO teamed up with Danish triathlete Torbjorn Sindballe to tap into his athletic expertise for the development of the shoe. Sinballe has worked with ECCO to create a training plan to ease consumers into the shoe naturally.

My experience has been nothing short of very positive thus far. Minutes into my first run, two words came to mind; “light” and “quiet”. Finding a running shoe that can make the pounding of a 6’3”, 200 pound frame feel light and quiet is not always easy to come by. There is an adjustment period required to acclimate your foot and body to the design of this shoe which the company explains in great detail in the packaging information.

I found the shoe to offer a very comfortable fit and performed quite well. If you are ready to break out of your conventional shell and try something a little unique, check out the ECCO BIOM.

For more information, visit www.thebiomproject.com

Back on My Feet turns two years old tomorrow and you can help with their $100,000 birthday campaign. Back on My Feet is a non-profit organization that promotes the self-sufficiency of the homeless population by engaging them in running as a means to build confidence, strength and self-esteem.

BOMF has developed into a very comprehensive program that operates in Philadelphia and Baltimore with more than 170 members and 600 volunteers.

They have helped 44 members re-enter the workforce and 31 members move from living in a shelter to living on their own, or back with their family. It’s incredible.

They have just $3,500 left to fundraise today and tomorrow and anything you could give would be appreciated. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/bomfbirthday2, or mail a check to:

Back on My Feet
1520 Locust St, Suite 804
Philadelphia, PA 19102

While riding the subway in Philadelphia to the start of the 1995 Broad Street 10-Mile Run, I met a girl. A great race by the way, but this is not a race report. The girl’s name was Barb and I sat next to her and her friend on the train. We exchanged pleasantries. The usual stuff…the weather …the race… Barb was new to the area and had a few race logistical questions. When we arrived at Central High School, the start of the race, we parted ways and wished each other good luck. But for some reason every time I turned around, I kept bumping into her. It became a little ironic, almost like we were unable to say goodbye. Then at one point during the actual race, as I glanced around me, I saw her again. Then again. Then again. Finally, at the conclusion of the race we once again said farewell.

Little did I realize at the time that saying goodbye really wasn’t necessary at all. Barb and I would continue to bump into one another all over the place for the next decade. And eventually became great friends. We started as “race friends” in that we would exchange emails and try to say hello whenever we were racing the same events. That led to planning some training together with other friends in our extended running and triathlon families. And before you knew it, a friendship was born. Although the foundation was sprung from our common interest in endurance sports, it led to a more meaningful friendship. And we all know how adult friendships can sometimes be. Months could go by and we wouldn’t see or hear anything of one another. But we were always only a phone call away and we always had each other as race buds or tri buds or whatever the heck we were.

I would think nothing of calling her or dropping her an email and telling her to get off of her butt and go train. And she would do the same to me, or for me, depending on perspective. Over time I realized what an amazing talent Barb really was. She was one of those people that completely wreak havoc on something once committing to doing it. When she decided to try her hand at triathlon, she showed no mercy on her competition. I remember one ride in particular. It was right after she really caught the tri bug. We were riding down the shore and I thought I would teach her a thing or two. So, I hammered by butt off into a head wind opening up a huge gap between everyone around me. Everyone except Barb. She was practically in my jersey pocket, smiling. Her look almost said, “OK, now what are we going to do?”

Her top overall and age group finishes are too many to mention. And the girl could swim. I was extremely envious of her swimming ability. But that is to be expected given her all-everything swimming resume growing up and in college.

Through Barb, I met some great people. Through my friendship with Barb, I became friendly with people like Dave Greenfield, President and owner of Elite Bicycles and general ambassador of good karma. And Stuart Trager, who when he is not ripping off sub 10 hour IM’s, the Dr. is either in surgery, or serving as a walking Atkins testimonial.

Through me, Barb was introduced to my band of tri comrades in the area. That spawned off some wonderful friendships for her. It was cool how our two independent networks of friends and training partners became intertwined into one. But that too is the beauty of the sport of triathlon.

Barb was an Amazon. She was capable of doing anything she set her sights on. She was a testimonial to Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. An amazingly strong and talented woman when she wanted to be, but very human and fallible at the same time. She eventually learned not to take this stuff too seriously.

She knew how to fully enjoy whatever she was doing. And she knew when she needed a break. If she didn’t enjoy something, she would take some time off to regenerate, and then return again with an even bigger zest. After taking some time off to reflect and take some personal inventory, Barb was recharged and believed the upcoming season was to be her best yet.

I spoke to Barb around Thanksgiving of that year. I hadn’t heard from her for a while and dropped her an email, which led to a phone call. I was sorry to hear that Barb had been suffering from some kind of respiratory something. Maybe it was the flu, maybe pneumonia. She wasn’t too sure but her doc was going to run some tests and with some much needed rest, she was expected back on her feet eventually… eventually.

A couple of weeks later, I got the word that things were much more serious than anyone realized. My friend Barb, the athlete, was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and her long term outlook was not good. I spoke to her again the day before New Years Eve. She was back in the hospital. Too weak and groggy to say too much, Barb spoke for a minute but then handed the phone to her sister. The conversation was short. But her sister filled in the missing pieces. As I was talking to her sister, my radio was eerily playing Melissa Etheridge as she belted out the chorus “It only hurts when I breathe”. The irony in that is physically painful.

Barb’s condition continued to worsen over the next few months. She eventually moved back home to Indiana to be with family during her last days. She fought the way she always did. But in mid-March Barb lost her battle.

How was this possible? Never mind, I know damn well how it’s possible. It’s life. Precious and beautiful one minute, fragile the next and gone before you know it. But as much as we can understand it on an intellectual level, it doesn’t help to ease the gut wrenching pain of its reality.

As much as it hurts and as sad as it is, I feel lucky. I feel lucky to have known Barb when she was on top of her game. I feel lucky enough to have been considered a friend and confident when she wasn’t. And I feel lucky enough to have been able to talk to her during her last days. I still don’t understand it. But I’m thankful for having been a part of her life and she a part of mine.

I had a great run there the other day and found myself pitted in a little friendly competition as I sometimes do. You know the situation. On any given day you will find yourself surrounded by runners of varied speed and ability. Many will blow right by you. You will blow others away. During most runs, none of it matters. Every once in a while you come across a certain someone who is running at just about the same pace as you. When that happens to me, I immediately shift my mindset from “Isn’t this a great place to run” to “Bring it on”. If they are behind you, you feel the need to increase the gap. If they are ahead of you, you immediately throw a mental lasso around them as you try to determine your strategy for reeling them in.

It happened Saturday when a little blonde ponytail came scampering out of nowhere from a trail and merged onto the Drive about 40 yards in front of me. At first I thought overtaking her would only be a matter of a minute or two. But she knew I was back there and she was determined to not let that happen.

So I turned my running cap around, shifted into another gear and increased my turnover a little bit. And so did she. Our gap remained the same. I am a decent climber, so with each subtle incline, I gained ground on her. The problem is, with each flat; she accelerated and put me back in my place. OK, this was not going to be easy. But I stayed my course and started to realize that I really was closing the gap – slowly. But since I had no idea where she would be finishing, I didn’t know how much time I had to catch her.

Finally, I started to make more substantial gains and the closer I got, the faster I went. Or so it felt. With about a quarter of a mile from what ended up being her finish line, I finally pulled up next to her, smiled and commented “You were not going to let that be easy for me, were you?” We both had a chuckle and then she said that she would enjoy pacing off of me for the rest of the trip.

We cruised into Valley Green and she went her way to her car. I grabbed a quick drink, turned around and headed back to where I started. I was content to just cruise home and enjoy the scenery. But the competitor in me took more than a little bit of pride in catching that ponytail. I didn’t come home with a finisher’s t-shirt, certificate, or medal, merely the exhilarating satisfaction of the chase and the catch.

Thanks for the great run…whoever you are.