Thursday, April 19, 2012

Message from Semper Fi Fund


Corey Petersen, the Community Outreach Coordinator for The Semper Fi Fund asked me to share this message with my supporters so you can all know the real good that your contributions have made.

“A young Marine Corporal is in the burn unit ICU. He was injured in January in Kajaki Dist, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, from an IED attack while conducting a dismounted security patrol. He has burns over 70% of his body, he’s a double amputee, and has trauma to head and upper torso.  He is still in critical condition.
Please keep this Corporal and his family in your prayers. Mom and Dad have not left his bedside. The Dad sleeps in the ICU waiting room each night because he will not leave the hospital. He is covered with our SFF blanket.
Our Case Manager has also covered them with her love and strength. She has become close to the family and has provided much more than our financial support. Mom is an accountant and lost her job due to time at the bedside, Dad is also without pay right now. Because of our precious donors (YOU) we are able to be there for them.”

I want all of America to know about these brave guys and the invaluable work that Semper Fi Fund does to help them and their families. That’s why I’ve dedicated my racing this year to raising awareness and money for Semper Fi Fund.

I’m going out for a twelve mile training run right now. Won’t you surprise me with a new donation when I get back? You're the greatest. Here’s a link to my contribution page






Friday, April 6, 2012

It Ain't All That Bad


That last post was kind of sour, wasn’t it? I think I was overtraining, so I dialed it back a little bit. I got too serious when I discovered it was going to take a 3:45 in the NJ Marathon to get the best chance at an entry for the JFK 50 Mile. 

I haven’t covered more than twelve miles at a pop since that twenty mile debacle a couple of weeks ago. But I have enjoyed some really fine running.

Photo by Lance Reed
When I go out the front door at 5:30 on an overcast morning it’s very dark. But when the sky’s clear, it’s all I can do to keep my eyes on the road. There hasn’t been any moon that time of the morning for the last couple of weeks. Just stars. Zillions and zillions of stars.

I run down the middle of the road following its gray outline. There’s almost no traffic on most of the roads around here before 6 AM. I’m not using any tunes lately, so I get to hear little creatures skittering round in the dry leaves and underbrush.

The first mile or so of the twelve mile route is pretty open. After that there’s a lot of heavily treed subdivisions and golf courses, so it can be hard to see the sky. Around mile five it opens up again into farms and the stars come back.

The road is mainly rolling hills, but I haven’t been pushing too hard lately so they’re easy. The toughest part of the whole route is the mile or so along the river between Hermitage Road and Miller’s Lane. The hills are bigger and there’s traffic here. It rips along fast. The drivers don’t seem to see my reflective vest, so I run on the grassy shoulder. It’s smooth and wide but the grass is deep and the work harder. I pray there’s no chuck holes and my luck holds.

We know some predators are around here, but not the kind that bother running fools. I pass a farm where two miniature donkeys were killed a few weeks ago. Coyotes they think. I neither see them nor hear them. Probably they sit patiently in the brush and watch as I bop along making what to them is a god-awful racket.  

The first quarter mile on Miller’s from the river is a tough hill climb in dark shady woods. I used to walk the steepest part, but now I run it. Not fast, but steady.

Photo by TheRealThalion
At the top of the hill thick woods dwindle to a thin stuttery tree line. Fields and pastures of big horse estates sprawl out from the road. I spook a few horses already on night turn-out. Off in the eastern sky a hint of dawn starts killing off stars.

Light comes on fast and before another two miles go by I top the last little rise before the road drops a hundred sudden feet to the bridge on Dover Creek. A thick white roll of viscous fog fills the bottom half of the little valley. I can see over it, but not through it.

My friend John used to say, “Gravity’s free. And it works.” I embrace it and sprint the hill, pushing control to the ragged edge. An errant step and a trip will end in a bloody mess. The temperature drops ten degrees as fog droplets wet my face and I’m almost home. 


Don't forget the Semper-Fi Fund. These guys deserve our support.