2008 Miles Of Hope is the name my wife/teammate, and I have given to our campaign to raise money for Hope For The Warriors. It has been one of the most fulfilling endeavors we have ever undertaken. We have met many great and inspiring people and we have traveled to a lot of interesting places. In short, 2008 Miles Of Hope has three parts that I call hope, inspiration, and a promise.
Hope
Hope is the human condition that causes us to be something beyond what we are now. In 2006, I watched handcyclists competing in the Marine Corps Marathon. My teammate and I were there to support my niece, T, who was running her first marathon. It was the first time I had watched a marathon in person. Even before breaking my neck in a swimming pool accident thirty years ago, I had dreamed of taking part in a marathon. As a C-6 quadriplegic, I’ve always found pushing a wheelchair to be difficult. The thought of pushing one through a marathon, was just a dream.
Seeing the Marine Marathon handcyclists gave me hope. A handbike uses different muscles than does a wheelchair. “I think I can do that,” I said to myself. Completing the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008 has become my goal number one.
Inspiration
Seeing thousands of charity runners dedicate themselves to their causes filled me with inspiration. How could I turn my training for the MCM into a greater good? I learned about Hope For The Warriors through their 2007 Run For The Warriors. THIS was to be our cause. Because of my disability, I am sensitive to the sacrifices of the wounded warriors and their needs. Both my teammate and I grew up in military families. And because of my disability, we understand effect of disabilities on families and the important role of the family in the recovery process.
In July of 2007 we stood up our fundraising campaign. My second goal became a mission to handbike over 2008 miles to raise awareness of and raise money for the wounded warriors. Our message: Life with a disability is not a life filled with despair; it is a life filled with hope. I initially thought our example would inspire others. However, it is we who have been inspired over and over by an overwhelming outpouring of support for our cause by family, friends, athletes we have met along the way, and just ordinary people. My greatest and continuing inspiration is my teammate, who enables every mile I undertake. She has also taken up running and just completed her first 8K race at the Shamrock in Virginia Beach.
A Promise
Goal number three became a promise to raise $26,200 for Hope For The Warriors. The number is $1,000 for every mile in the first goal, the Marine Corps Marathon. It has taken all our spare time. Many nights we are up well beyond our bed time stuffing envelopes. So far, the response has been overwhelming. This is a gracious and compassionate land that we live in. The generosity of our contributors has been amazing.
Hope For The Warriors
The union of our goals for 2008 Miles of Hope with those of Hope For The Warriors has been a natural fit. Their vision of “hope beyond recovery,” the inspiration of the indomitable spirit of the wounded warriors and their families, and their promise of “no sacrifice forgotten, nor need unmet,” has assured us over and over that indeed, their cause is our cause.
So, how are we doing?
(updated 09.16.2008)
Basically, we are having the times of our lives! For goal number one, I have completed two marathons, seven half marathons, and eight 10K races in preparation for the 2008 MCM. For goal number two, I have completed over 2400 miles since last July. And for goal number three, we have raised over $10,000 for Hope For The Warriors.
Help us help heroes
Join us in supporting Hope For The Warriors. You can make a donation through our campaign at http://www.active.com/donate/2008Miles. Follow our progress at this blog. Each time you visit, please post a comment. And JOIN US at the 2008 Run for the Warriors!
The only things we cannot achieve
Are those things we cannot dream.
-LetsRoll!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The Shamrock
31.2 Miles of Inspiration
What inspires you? What follows is my account of the Shamrock Marathon weekend and all the inspiration and motivation that saw me through to the finish line. Twice.
First of all, you have to understand that I get a unique perspective of a race. I get to start a race up front before all the runners. The wheelchairs and handbikes usually start five minutes or so earlier that the runners. That gets them down the street and out of the massive congestion of the start. It also gives me a chance to see a cross section of the race as the field of faster runners passes by. So for me, as a participant, I’m experiencing the event also as a spectator as well. There are stories of inspiration throughout those events that make it a memory to savor forever.
Whales and Dolphins
The inspiration started last fall. I signed up for the Whale. The Whale is a dual entry in the marathon and the 8K events. My niece, T and I are both training for the 2008 Marine Corps Marathon. I claim it is the result of a challenge from her. She claims it is the result of too much whisky. Since that challenge we have completed several races together, including the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon and the City of Oaks Half Marathon. We mutually agreed that Shamrock would be a good time for another race. She signed up for the Dolphin which is the 8K and the half marathon.
Our plans turned into a “family” challenge. T’s boyfriend, B, had run with T the last 10K of the MCM 06 to motivate her at the end. During the City of Oaks, felt like she needed some company, so she asked him to run a short way at the start of the race. That short distance became the entire half marathon. B finished that entire event at her side with no training or preparation! We all agreed it was time for him to officially enter a half marathon and get recognized for his feat.
Meanwhile another niece, K took up the challenge and entered the 8K. My teammate signed on for the 8K, and T’s running partner, M signed up for the Dolphin. Nothing is more inspiring that to be surrounded by your most valuable team, your family and friends as you work toward any endeavor.
Charlie and Bulldog
More inspiration for the Shamrock evolved from the Norfolk Half Marathon on Ground Hog Day. Again I had the chance to “meet” inspiring runners such as fellow bloggers Charlie and Bulldog. “Meet” is somewhat of an overstatement of the act of witnessing a blur of a human figure streak past you while you shout out less in encouragement than in awe. We have since followed each others’ posts. I’ve found tremendous motivation in reading their descriptions of their workout regimes and grueling training. It makes me feel guilty for every minute I’m not exercising.
The 8K
The starting line of the 8K gave me a chance to meet my fellow wheelchair entrant, GF. GF hails from upstate NY. I thought I had a challenge training in the winter months. GF spends his training time in malls and parking decks during the winter. Folks, I’ve pushed a chair in parking lots. It’s a good way to get your heart rate up. Not from the exercise but the fear of death from the constant attack of cars that don’t see you.
I always race with the American flag attached to my handbike. It’s my way of reminding myself of the sacrifices of thousands of wounded warriors that preserve the liberties that we enjoy. The only exception has been the Crystal Coast Half Marathon when I was afraid the high crosswinds might cause the flag to sway and hit other runners. The race started with the ceremonial singing of the National Anthem. I often get teary-eyed during the National Anthem. As I looked around, I noticed all eyes were on my flag, excuse me, OUR flag. The pride this little bit of unexpected recognition added a little extra emotion to the ceremony and inspiration in my heart.
By now I was fully inspired. Readied with the knowledge that somewhere in the field behind me stood my teammate, T, M, and K; all as charged and excited as I. The crowds and cheering along the course were great. The weather was close to perfect, maybe a bit windy.
GF and I struggled along the first ten blocks or so against the stiff wind. However, once I turned south, it was thirty-five or so blocks of straight tailwind. This was my chance to fly. The run down Atlantic boulevard was a fun run past all the ice-cream stands, tee shirts stores, and hotels a beach town can offer. The turn onto the boardwalk put me into a headwind for what seemed like a slow crawl to the finish. I mentally said goodbye to the little group of runners I had hung with for the last ten minutes or so. The beautiful Virginia Beach oceanfront offered a grand view as I plowed through the wind back to the finish line.
I finished in 39:48 which was a PR 7 minute pace. I placed 268th out of about 4900 finishers. My teammate finished her first 8K. A year ago she had never run a step. K finished her first race also. M and T hung right in there with the rest of the team to the finish. All in all, a finish to inspire me for the next day’s marathon.
The Marathon
My half marathon teammates, T, M, and B had to start their race an hour ahead of mine. We wished each other a few brief “good lucks” as we grabbed a bite at the hotel breakfast bar. Unfortunately I tarried too long over breakfast and got to the starting line with only a few minutes to spare. The knowledge that my family and friends were already out there running had me psyched. There was more inspiration waiting for me at the starting line. Or despair; depending on how you look at it.
David Swaim
If you’re a wheelchair competitor, the sight of this man at the starting line will cause you despair. Or at the very least it will cause you to re-evaluate your strategy for a second place finish.
Get a good look at his blue racing gear before the shot of the starter’s pistol. Afterward he will be only a distant spec down the street before you. And that’s only briefly. He has won the wheelchair division in the Marine Corps Marathon previously and many others, including recently, the Myrtle Beach Marathon. To see this man streak along at his five-minute pace is like watching a human powered rocket fly along the street.
The Start
At the starting line I hear my name called out, not once, but twice. I looked up and there was Bulldog! The Welshman had made his way to the front to wish me luck. THEN, I looked to my left and there was my mentor, GM.
This retired Marine Sergeant Major has been a constant source of inspiration and motivation and has competed in nearly every event I have entered. He, too, had made his way through the throng to wish me well. Since I began my 2008 Miles of Hope campaign, he has been there with me, offering advice and experience to help me along the way. He is also a donor to my 2008 Miles of Hope fundraising campaign. I look forward to many more races with this great individual. This picture is actually from the Myrtle Beach Marathon but it shows how he took time away from his last-minute race preparations to find me at the front and bid me good luck.
Physically, I was as ready as I could be. The rain was gone (everyone hoped). My teammates were headed toward Fort Story as they made their way along the half marathon. Mentally, as a result of the inspiration given me by my family, my friends and supporters, and thousands of cheering spectators, I was stoked! I had one goal: to arrive at the finish line completely depleted of physical energy. However, there was to be no shortage of inspiration today.
Downwind
The starting horn sounded and we were off. A blue streak rocketed off to my left. That was the last I’d see of David Swaim this weekend. The wind was at my back. The first 10K of this race was going to be fun. The run down Atlantic Boulevard was much like the 8K only faster. The wind was a steady 25 MPH. I cruised along, sometimes reaching a six-minute mile pace. The bridge was going to be a bit of a speed bump.
As I started up the bridge, I was slowing and turning and gearing down, all the while being passed by the leaders in this field of 2300 participants. Once on the incline of the bridge I was geared down and grinding along slowly. I heard a familiar voice again shout out my name. “Run Bulldog, Run!” I shouted in reply. Charlie also passed me, also shouting my encouragement. Between the tailwind and the uplifting thoughts pushing me along my climb up this bridge was to be brief.
See Amy Run
Somewhere off to my left I heard a woman’s voice, “Bless you.” By the time I could react this tall amputee had passed me by and was bounding across the bridge like a running machine. At the top of my lungs I shouted back, “Go, lady, go!” In a blink, she was gone.
Amy Palmiero-Winters lost her leg in a motorcycle crash. A runner all her life, she was told she would never run again. What does a runner who has lost her leg do with her life? For Amy, the choice was clear. Run. And she has never looked back. What I just had the privilege of witnessing was a 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics hopeful. Not the Paralympics. This young lady plans to compete alongside able-bodied athletes in the marathon. Today I think she took two minutes off my time. I cranked even harder to get over the bridge, hoping to catch her on the down side of the bridge. I wanted to find where she hid her wings.
Camp Pendleton
The course proceeded down General Booth Boulevard where I again got a chance to yell at my fellow blogsters Bulldog and Charlie as they returned from the turn around. David Swaim? Forget it! By now he was so far gone that the light reflecting off his jersey won’t reach this universe for a few more years. As we wound our way through the Camp, a group of soldiers assembled outside one of the barracks and shouted cadence for the runners. Again, this little act of inspiration gave a tremendous motivational boost to me and all the runners around me. And just in time. After turning three more corners we started North, into the 25 MPH blast that would dog us for the next thirteen miles or so.
Headwind
As the course proceeded North back over the bridge, along the boardwalk, up Atlantic Boulevard, and Shore Drive it was all headwind. There was nowhere to hide from it; it was like a half marathon of brutal wind resistance in the middle of this course.
Every runner out there fed off each other for inspiration. We were all in the same predicament. I received more than my share of encouragement from my fellow marathoners and tried to return the same. The volunteers and spectators along the course were excellent. As we passed little clumps of spectators, water tables, and even the road monitors, they all had words of encouragement that took our minds off the wind.
At about mile 14 I met my teammate who was out on the course photographing runners, including my friends and family on the return leg of the Half Marathon. She was waiting for me with some inspiration in a can, Red Bull. I pulled into the median and stopped, where I wolfed down a Snickers and drank the Red Bull. For those of you who haven’t tried it, Snickers and Red Bull make a great mid-course refueling. If you can’t stand the taste of shots and goos, you can’t beat Snickers.
Rested and recharged, I got out on the road again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Bulldog on his return leg as he picked his way through the stragglers of the Half. I was amazed at his speed that far into his run. “Run, Bulldog, run!” I shouted. Little conversations were beginning to pick up amongst runners as the number of spectators waned. Along Shore Drive runners with compatible paces settled into little clumps and began to chat to maintaining their enthusiasm. Most of the banter was support for each other. A marathon virgin asked me about 2008 Miles of Hope, reading the logo on my shirt. I congratulated her on her first marathon and remarked that this was only my second. A DJ had speakers set up and music blasting about halfway up Shore Drive. In a conversation with another runner, she admitted she missed the motivation imparted by the spectators along Atlantic Boulevard. For me, the inspiration was all around me; it flowed alongside in the form of the energy from the thousands of runners.
Susan Constance, Discovery, Godspeed, and Admiral De Grasse
The sight of the Fort Story gate gave me a tremendous motivational boost. I knew in my mind that the headwinds were soon over. I joked with a fellow runner, “I hope they’re not checking IDs today,” recalling the snarled traffic at the gates military bases during periods of heightened security. As we trudged eastward, we passed openings in the sand dunes that gave the wind an opening to funnel through as it blasted off of the Chesapeake Sound. One blast blew me sideways a foot or so. The more we turned southward, the more of a tailwind component the breeze imparted and the faster I went.
As we passed the Cape Henry Lighthouse I recalled our stop at this spot last summer when my teammate and I had reconned this course. This spot is hallowed ground in the history of our country. It was here in 1607 that the Jamestown settlers first set foot on what is now the USA when they landed their three ships, the Susan Constance, the Discovery, and the Godspeed. And it was off this shore in 1781 that the French Admiral De Grasse cut off the British Navy from reinforcing General Cornwallis at Yorktown. That action enabled George Washington to defeat Cornwallis, the turning point of the War for American Independence. OK, I guess only a history enthusiast such as myself can find inspiration in a patch of beach.
Downwind to the Finish
I was snapped out of my reverie by the sound of my name again. My mentor, GM, was yelling in encouragement as I passed. “Yee-ha,” I yelled! In a blink, I was past. I had the full force of the wind at my back now. It seemed like only minutes before I was back at the Boardwalk. With the Atlantic nor’easter at my back, I clipped along at a snappy pace the last few blocks to the finish. There was Gerry, another wheelchair racer who had just finished minutes ahead of me. Gerry had traveled all the way from Cork, Ireland to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the Shamrock.
At the finish, my little team of family and friends was there to greet me. T, B, and M were all proudly sporting their half-marathon medals, and I my marathon finisher medal. We all glowed in our accomplishments. We all exchanged congratulations and well wishes until the cold March air started to induce the post-race chill. We said our farewells with visions of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon beginning to form in our minds when we will all race together again.
My time for the marathon was 2:14:52 which put me somewhere around 1072 out of about 2300 participants. And I finished 18th of 58 whale participants. Yee ha! Not great, but better than my friends who spent the weekend in front of a TV.
Teammates
I was especially proud this weekend. Not only did I get to take home two finisher medals but my teammate had one as well for finishing the 8K. Normally I get to enjoy the anticipation at the start and the thrill of the finish. But I don’t even get on the handbike without my teammate. None of my training and none of my races would be possible without her. She is always there at the finish line for me and right by my side, either afoot or on her bike, for many of these 2008 Miles of Hope. The greatest teammate in the world!
It is my fervent desire that, as a result of these 2008 Miles of Hope, that our Nation’s wounded warriors will know that they have you, the reader of this blog, as their loyal teammate. Their stories of sacrifice and recovery are nothing short of inspirational. Be there for them in their most difficult battle, their fight for recovery and rehabilitation. Your generous tax-deductible contribution to Hope For The Warriors will help them know that they do not stand alone, they stand beside grateful and compassionate Americans such as you.
My participation in events such as this are dedicated to the honor and memory of service men and women wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. I raise money with my campaign, 2008 Miles of Hope, through donations to Hope For The Warriors. I’m not a wounded warrior, I’m a grateful beneficiary of their sacrifices. Learn more about Hope For The Warriors.
Please donate to my fundraising campaign to support wounded warriors, 2008 Miles of Hope. All the money I raise goes to Hope For The Warriors. This phenomenal organization provides Warrior Wishes, Direct Needs Grants, and Spouses’ Scholarships. Now they have embarked on the creation of a Hope and Care Center, a rehabilitation and wellness facility for wounded warriors.
You can easily make a donation to Hope For The Warriors by using my secure credit card donation site:
http://www.active.com/donate/2008Miles
Or donate by check. Download our donation form, fill it out, and send it to me with your donation to my address on the form:
Donation form.pdf
-LetsRoll!
What inspires you? What follows is my account of the Shamrock Marathon weekend and all the inspiration and motivation that saw me through to the finish line. Twice.
First of all, you have to understand that I get a unique perspective of a race. I get to start a race up front before all the runners. The wheelchairs and handbikes usually start five minutes or so earlier that the runners. That gets them down the street and out of the massive congestion of the start. It also gives me a chance to see a cross section of the race as the field of faster runners passes by. So for me, as a participant, I’m experiencing the event also as a spectator as well. There are stories of inspiration throughout those events that make it a memory to savor forever.
Whales and Dolphins
The inspiration started last fall. I signed up for the Whale. The Whale is a dual entry in the marathon and the 8K events. My niece, T and I are both training for the 2008 Marine Corps Marathon. I claim it is the result of a challenge from her. She claims it is the result of too much whisky. Since that challenge we have completed several races together, including the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon and the City of Oaks Half Marathon. We mutually agreed that Shamrock would be a good time for another race. She signed up for the Dolphin which is the 8K and the half marathon.
Our plans turned into a “family” challenge. T’s boyfriend, B, had run with T the last 10K of the MCM 06 to motivate her at the end. During the City of Oaks, felt like she needed some company, so she asked him to run a short way at the start of the race. That short distance became the entire half marathon. B finished that entire event at her side with no training or preparation! We all agreed it was time for him to officially enter a half marathon and get recognized for his feat.
Meanwhile another niece, K took up the challenge and entered the 8K. My teammate signed on for the 8K, and T’s running partner, M signed up for the Dolphin. Nothing is more inspiring that to be surrounded by your most valuable team, your family and friends as you work toward any endeavor.
Charlie and Bulldog
More inspiration for the Shamrock evolved from the Norfolk Half Marathon on Ground Hog Day. Again I had the chance to “meet” inspiring runners such as fellow bloggers Charlie and Bulldog. “Meet” is somewhat of an overstatement of the act of witnessing a blur of a human figure streak past you while you shout out less in encouragement than in awe. We have since followed each others’ posts. I’ve found tremendous motivation in reading their descriptions of their workout regimes and grueling training. It makes me feel guilty for every minute I’m not exercising.
The 8K
The starting line of the 8K gave me a chance to meet my fellow wheelchair entrant, GF. GF hails from upstate NY. I thought I had a challenge training in the winter months. GF spends his training time in malls and parking decks during the winter. Folks, I’ve pushed a chair in parking lots. It’s a good way to get your heart rate up. Not from the exercise but the fear of death from the constant attack of cars that don’t see you.I always race with the American flag attached to my handbike. It’s my way of reminding myself of the sacrifices of thousands of wounded warriors that preserve the liberties that we enjoy. The only exception has been the Crystal Coast Half Marathon when I was afraid the high crosswinds might cause the flag to sway and hit other runners. The race started with the ceremonial singing of the National Anthem. I often get teary-eyed during the National Anthem. As I looked around, I noticed all eyes were on my flag, excuse me, OUR flag. The pride this little bit of unexpected recognition added a little extra emotion to the ceremony and inspiration in my heart.
By now I was fully inspired. Readied with the knowledge that somewhere in the field behind me stood my teammate, T, M, and K; all as charged and excited as I. The crowds and cheering along the course were great. The weather was close to perfect, maybe a bit windy.
GF and I struggled along the first ten blocks or so against the stiff wind. However, once I turned south, it was thirty-five or so blocks of straight tailwind. This was my chance to fly. The run down Atlantic boulevard was a fun run past all the ice-cream stands, tee shirts stores, and hotels a beach town can offer. The turn onto the boardwalk put me into a headwind for what seemed like a slow crawl to the finish. I mentally said goodbye to the little group of runners I had hung with for the last ten minutes or so. The beautiful Virginia Beach oceanfront offered a grand view as I plowed through the wind back to the finish line.
I finished in 39:48 which was a PR 7 minute pace. I placed 268th out of about 4900 finishers. My teammate finished her first 8K. A year ago she had never run a step. K finished her first race also. M and T hung right in there with the rest of the team to the finish. All in all, a finish to inspire me for the next day’s marathon.
The Marathon
My half marathon teammates, T, M, and B had to start their race an hour ahead of mine. We wished each other a few brief “good lucks” as we grabbed a bite at the hotel breakfast bar. Unfortunately I tarried too long over breakfast and got to the starting line with only a few minutes to spare. The knowledge that my family and friends were already out there running had me psyched. There was more inspiration waiting for me at the starting line. Or despair; depending on how you look at it.
David Swaim
If you’re a wheelchair competitor, the sight of this man at the starting line will cause you despair. Or at the very least it will cause you to re-evaluate your strategy for a second place finish.
Get a good look at his blue racing gear before the shot of the starter’s pistol. Afterward he will be only a distant spec down the street before you. And that’s only briefly. He has won the wheelchair division in the Marine Corps Marathon previously and many others, including recently, the Myrtle Beach Marathon. To see this man streak along at his five-minute pace is like watching a human powered rocket fly along the street.
The Start
At the starting line I hear my name called out, not once, but twice. I looked up and there was Bulldog! The Welshman had made his way to the front to wish me luck. THEN, I looked to my left and there was my mentor, GM.
This retired Marine Sergeant Major has been a constant source of inspiration and motivation and has competed in nearly every event I have entered. He, too, had made his way through the throng to wish me well. Since I began my 2008 Miles of Hope campaign, he has been there with me, offering advice and experience to help me along the way. He is also a donor to my 2008 Miles of Hope fundraising campaign. I look forward to many more races with this great individual. This picture is actually from the Myrtle Beach Marathon but it shows how he took time away from his last-minute race preparations to find me at the front and bid me good luck.
Physically, I was as ready as I could be. The rain was gone (everyone hoped). My teammates were headed toward Fort Story as they made their way along the half marathon. Mentally, as a result of the inspiration given me by my family, my friends and supporters, and thousands of cheering spectators, I was stoked! I had one goal: to arrive at the finish line completely depleted of physical energy. However, there was to be no shortage of inspiration today.
Downwind
The starting horn sounded and we were off. A blue streak rocketed off to my left. That was the last I’d see of David Swaim this weekend. The wind was at my back. The first 10K of this race was going to be fun. The run down Atlantic Boulevard was much like the 8K only faster. The wind was a steady 25 MPH. I cruised along, sometimes reaching a six-minute mile pace. The bridge was going to be a bit of a speed bump.
As I started up the bridge, I was slowing and turning and gearing down, all the while being passed by the leaders in this field of 2300 participants. Once on the incline of the bridge I was geared down and grinding along slowly. I heard a familiar voice again shout out my name. “Run Bulldog, Run!” I shouted in reply. Charlie also passed me, also shouting my encouragement. Between the tailwind and the uplifting thoughts pushing me along my climb up this bridge was to be brief.
See Amy Run
Somewhere off to my left I heard a woman’s voice, “Bless you.” By the time I could react this tall amputee had passed me by and was bounding across the bridge like a running machine. At the top of my lungs I shouted back, “Go, lady, go!” In a blink, she was gone.Amy Palmiero-Winters lost her leg in a motorcycle crash. A runner all her life, she was told she would never run again. What does a runner who has lost her leg do with her life? For Amy, the choice was clear. Run. And she has never looked back. What I just had the privilege of witnessing was a 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics hopeful. Not the Paralympics. This young lady plans to compete alongside able-bodied athletes in the marathon. Today I think she took two minutes off my time. I cranked even harder to get over the bridge, hoping to catch her on the down side of the bridge. I wanted to find where she hid her wings.
Camp Pendleton
The course proceeded down General Booth Boulevard where I again got a chance to yell at my fellow blogsters Bulldog and Charlie as they returned from the turn around. David Swaim? Forget it! By now he was so far gone that the light reflecting off his jersey won’t reach this universe for a few more years. As we wound our way through the Camp, a group of soldiers assembled outside one of the barracks and shouted cadence for the runners. Again, this little act of inspiration gave a tremendous motivational boost to me and all the runners around me. And just in time. After turning three more corners we started North, into the 25 MPH blast that would dog us for the next thirteen miles or so.
Headwind
As the course proceeded North back over the bridge, along the boardwalk, up Atlantic Boulevard, and Shore Drive it was all headwind. There was nowhere to hide from it; it was like a half marathon of brutal wind resistance in the middle of this course.
Every runner out there fed off each other for inspiration. We were all in the same predicament. I received more than my share of encouragement from my fellow marathoners and tried to return the same. The volunteers and spectators along the course were excellent. As we passed little clumps of spectators, water tables, and even the road monitors, they all had words of encouragement that took our minds off the wind.
At about mile 14 I met my teammate who was out on the course photographing runners, including my friends and family on the return leg of the Half Marathon. She was waiting for me with some inspiration in a can, Red Bull. I pulled into the median and stopped, where I wolfed down a Snickers and drank the Red Bull. For those of you who haven’t tried it, Snickers and Red Bull make a great mid-course refueling. If you can’t stand the taste of shots and goos, you can’t beat Snickers.
Rested and recharged, I got out on the road again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Bulldog on his return leg as he picked his way through the stragglers of the Half. I was amazed at his speed that far into his run. “Run, Bulldog, run!” I shouted. Little conversations were beginning to pick up amongst runners as the number of spectators waned. Along Shore Drive runners with compatible paces settled into little clumps and began to chat to maintaining their enthusiasm. Most of the banter was support for each other. A marathon virgin asked me about 2008 Miles of Hope, reading the logo on my shirt. I congratulated her on her first marathon and remarked that this was only my second. A DJ had speakers set up and music blasting about halfway up Shore Drive. In a conversation with another runner, she admitted she missed the motivation imparted by the spectators along Atlantic Boulevard. For me, the inspiration was all around me; it flowed alongside in the form of the energy from the thousands of runners.
Susan Constance, Discovery, Godspeed, and Admiral De Grasse
The sight of the Fort Story gate gave me a tremendous motivational boost. I knew in my mind that the headwinds were soon over. I joked with a fellow runner, “I hope they’re not checking IDs today,” recalling the snarled traffic at the gates military bases during periods of heightened security. As we trudged eastward, we passed openings in the sand dunes that gave the wind an opening to funnel through as it blasted off of the Chesapeake Sound. One blast blew me sideways a foot or so. The more we turned southward, the more of a tailwind component the breeze imparted and the faster I went.
As we passed the Cape Henry Lighthouse I recalled our stop at this spot last summer when my teammate and I had reconned this course. This spot is hallowed ground in the history of our country. It was here in 1607 that the Jamestown settlers first set foot on what is now the USA when they landed their three ships, the Susan Constance, the Discovery, and the Godspeed. And it was off this shore in 1781 that the French Admiral De Grasse cut off the British Navy from reinforcing General Cornwallis at Yorktown. That action enabled George Washington to defeat Cornwallis, the turning point of the War for American Independence. OK, I guess only a history enthusiast such as myself can find inspiration in a patch of beach.
Downwind to the Finish
I was snapped out of my reverie by the sound of my name again. My mentor, GM, was yelling in encouragement as I passed. “Yee-ha,” I yelled! In a blink, I was past. I had the full force of the wind at my back now. It seemed like only minutes before I was back at the Boardwalk. With the Atlantic nor’easter at my back, I clipped along at a snappy pace the last few blocks to the finish. There was Gerry, another wheelchair racer who had just finished minutes ahead of me. Gerry had traveled all the way from Cork, Ireland to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the Shamrock.
At the finish, my little team of family and friends was there to greet me. T, B, and M were all proudly sporting their half-marathon medals, and I my marathon finisher medal. We all glowed in our accomplishments. We all exchanged congratulations and well wishes until the cold March air started to induce the post-race chill. We said our farewells with visions of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon beginning to form in our minds when we will all race together again.
My time for the marathon was 2:14:52 which put me somewhere around 1072 out of about 2300 participants. And I finished 18th of 58 whale participants. Yee ha! Not great, but better than my friends who spent the weekend in front of a TV.
Teammates
I was especially proud this weekend. Not only did I get to take home two finisher medals but my teammate had one as well for finishing the 8K. Normally I get to enjoy the anticipation at the start and the thrill of the finish. But I don’t even get on the handbike without my teammate. None of my training and none of my races would be possible without her. She is always there at the finish line for me and right by my side, either afoot or on her bike, for many of these 2008 Miles of Hope. The greatest teammate in the world!
It is my fervent desire that, as a result of these 2008 Miles of Hope, that our Nation’s wounded warriors will know that they have you, the reader of this blog, as their loyal teammate. Their stories of sacrifice and recovery are nothing short of inspirational. Be there for them in their most difficult battle, their fight for recovery and rehabilitation. Your generous tax-deductible contribution to Hope For The Warriors will help them know that they do not stand alone, they stand beside grateful and compassionate Americans such as you.
My participation in events such as this are dedicated to the honor and memory of service men and women wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. I raise money with my campaign, 2008 Miles of Hope, through donations to Hope For The Warriors. I’m not a wounded warrior, I’m a grateful beneficiary of their sacrifices. Learn more about Hope For The Warriors.
Please donate to my fundraising campaign to support wounded warriors, 2008 Miles of Hope. All the money I raise goes to Hope For The Warriors. This phenomenal organization provides Warrior Wishes, Direct Needs Grants, and Spouses’ Scholarships. Now they have embarked on the creation of a Hope and Care Center, a rehabilitation and wellness facility for wounded warriors.
You can easily make a donation to Hope For The Warriors by using my secure credit card donation site:
http://www.active.com/donate/2008Miles
Or donate by check. Download our donation form, fill it out, and send it to me with your donation to my address on the form:
Donation form.pdf
-LetsRoll!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The Crystal Coast Half Marathon
A Handcrank Participant’s View From Ten Inches Off The Road
It rained. No it poured. It blew. It blew a gale. The Atlantic Beach bridge grew another 10 feet in height. OK, I’m making up that last part.
After a week of beautiful sunny weather, the Crystal Coast Half Marathon’s inaugural event started out amidst the wettest and windiest day of 2008 so far. If it were summer it would have been a tropical storm.
My teammate ran the 5K. I did the half marathon.
The race director arranged for a bicyclist to escort me on the course. She didn’t realize what she was signing up for. What a great sport! What a great support crew! Through the grittiest rain and the staunchest winds she hung in there, soaked to the bone, constantly encouraging me and chatting.
Everyone was hopeful that the rain had passed. The race started with winds at about 20 MPH SSW. That gave me a slight tailwind as we traveled east on Arendell Street. At mile 1.5, my mother braved the storm and walked out to the street to cheer for me. At about mile three the lead runners began to catch me as I approached the port. It is always inspiring to see the frontrunners in a race. Heidi Tucker, the women division winner, looked like she flew as her long strides pulled her through the storm.
By now my teammate was beginning her race.
I turned south on Fourth Street and thought I had hit a brick wall. The wind was howling around the end of Sugarloaf Island and being funneled in between buildings. It blew so hard I was beginning to have my doubts about crossing the bridge. As I turned back west on Evans Street, the crosswind had a slight headwind component, giving me an additional challenge. I passed mile 4 and could feel the wind freshening and the temperature dropping. My bike escort was right there grinding along beside me. It was starting to rain.
The other runners were great! Many were friends with whom I had participated before. Many called me by name. Many stuck out a thumbs-up. Many yelled out encouragement. Everyone should experience this kind of support for something they do in their life. It’s no wonder I’m hooked.
But what about that bridge? The wind was still freshening. It was starting to rain pretty hard. The gusts were probably up to 30 MPH. I approached the foot of the bridge where it was about mile 4.5. The wind was almost straight head-on.
I started training on this bridge last summer. I need the gradient to train for my ultimate quest, the Marine Corps Marathon. I’ve been across the bridge with 20 MPH winds before. That usually means grinding along slowly in my lowest gear if it’s a headwind. I figured the southward ascent up the steep side of the bridge would be on the lee side of the bridge. That would take some of the sting out of the wind until I got near the top.
Riding at Bogue Banks has become almost a weekly ritual for my teammate and me. We have ridden up and down highway 58 from Fort Macon to Indian Beach in training. We had ridden this very course in all kinds of weather. The previous weekend I cranked across this bridge six times. It’s a good thing.
The first few yards of the climb up the bridge slowed me to a crawl. My bicycle escort dismounted and started walking. The rain was now a full-fledged downpour. I think every runner that passed me shouted in encouragement. The spirit on the course was awesome! The steepest part of the bridge is about at mile 5. It’s a 6.3% grade. I know this because my teammate had measured it with a digital inclinometer (did I mention we were serious about this?).
Eighty feet in the air on that bridge, gusts were probably 40 miles an hour. The rain was like one of those summer thunderstorms when your windshield wipers can’t go fast enough to see. In, fact I could only see about thirty feet in front of me. The combination of the wind and the rain literally stung my face like being sprayed with a fire hose. Runners were shielding their faces with their hands and arms as they charged the blast.
By now my teammate had finished the 5K. She remarked that they could see black cloud obscuring the top of the bridge. At the finish line there was a combined air of angst; 5K’ers and spectators were concerned about family members enveloped in somewhere that storm.
I don’t know how to describe this but I’ll try. The resistance from the wind normally slows me down. This wind, with the added mass of gallons of rain, on top of the grueling grade of the bridge, made me feel like a salmon trying to swim up a waterfall. Now I understand why they jump out of the water.
The trudge, or swim, south on the Atlantic Beach Causeway was still a slow, grueling, grind. Many of the race volunteers had bailed, presumably assuming the race would be cancelled. Most did not. They were right there, at their stations. One group of youngsters steadfastly handed out water and cheered the runners at mile six in the worst of the torrent. I tried to thank every volunteer and policeman I saw on the course.
By the time I reached the Atlantic Beach light, about eight inches of rain had accumulated in the street. Runners were darting through parking lots and along curbs, trying to stay out of the puddles. As I plowed through the water, surely as high as my seat, I thought to myself, “This guarantees it. Now there’s not a dry spot on my body.”
By now the rain had subsided. The eastward dash out Fort Macon Road was under crosswinds and was sheltered somewhat by the tall homes along the south side of the street. I was able to make up a good bit of time lost coming up the bridge. As I passed runners, I felt a genuine aura of relief, as if they were glad to see I had survived the stormy bridge onslaught. I caught up with another runner from Hope For The Warriors and other friends who had passed me on the bridge. We exchanged mutual cheers of support for each other. March’s lion-like downpour had not dampened the spirits of these racers.
Once I was back to the Atlantic Beach Causeway at mile 10.5 I received a well-deserved reward. A tailwind. A 20 MPH tailwind. I leaned back against my backrest, stretched out my arms, and pulled; instantly rewarded with a blast of speed. It was a great feeling, like my memories of sailing on a beam reach in Beaufort Inlet. The words out my mouth described exactly how it felt: “Yee-ha!”
The wind pounding against the upslope of the bridge amplified the wind speed, making the return climb up the bridge “a piece of cake.” At the top, the gale blasting at our backs, I checked with my loyal escort, “Got brakes?” Shouting to other runners at the top of my lungs, “Passing on the right!” I crested the peak and zipped down the lee side of the bridge. It became obvious that the handful of runners descending the bridge in front of me were deafened by the howl of the wind. They couldn’t hear my warnings. For our mutual safety, I rode my brakes heavily down the last half of the hill, although I’m sure I startled one runner as I weaved around her at the bottom of the incline.
The rest of the course was a milk run. It was, however, an honor to pass the home of my dear friend, JT-, with whom I share a similar disability. She had been driven indoors earlier by the weather so I shouted her name as I cranked past her porch.
At the finish line, runners and spectators lined the finish chute, cheering loudly. I have never received such an enthusiastic reception at the finish. I think it was partly because of the shared experience with the weather of the runners, spectators, and volunteers and partly just the indomitable friendly nature of my fellow Crystal Coasters. The finisher’s medal, appropriately enough, bears a picture of the Atlantic Beach Bridge, my formidable adversary that day. I hugged the volunteer who hung the prize around my neck.
So, how did I do? My time was 2:21:13. I’ve done better, but given my experience with the “speedbump” in the course, I’m happy. In the “is the glass half full or half empty” department, this was the inaugural Crystal Coast Half Marathon and I was the only handcrank participant. That not only makes me the winner in my (albeit unofficial) division, it makes me the course (handcrank) record holder! Not only that, but my teammate, won in her age group. So now she is a 5K course record holder for her division, too! That ought to give my mother enough bragging rights amongst her quilting friends for a while.
Looking back, if you factor out the miserable weather, what is left is a feeling of incredible camaraderie amongst the runners who endured the trek together, the mutual support we all shared along the way, a huge feeling of gratitude for the volunteers and police who were there along the way, and a overwhelming sense of accomplishment at the end. Those are the memories I’ll savor until the end of my days.
My participation in events such as this are dedicated to the honor and memory of service men and women wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. I raise money with my campaign, 2008 Miles of Hope, through donations to Hope For The Warriors. I’m not a wounded warrior, I’m a grateful beneficiary of their sacrifices. Learn more about Hope For The Warriors.
Please donate to my fundraising campaign to support wounded warriors, 2008 Miles of Hope. All the money I raise goes to Hope for The Warriors. This phenomenal organization provides Warrior Wishes, Direct Needs Grants, and Spouses’ Scholarships. Now they have embarked on the creation of a Hope and Care Center, a rehabilitation and wellness facility for wounded warriors.
You can easily make a donation to Hope For The Warriors by using my secure credit card donation site:
http://www.active.com/donate/2008Miles
Or donate by check. Download our donation form, fill it out, and send it to me with your donation to my address on the form:
Donation form.pdf
-Let's Roll!
It rained. No it poured. It blew. It blew a gale. The Atlantic Beach bridge grew another 10 feet in height. OK, I’m making up that last part.
After a week of beautiful sunny weather, the Crystal Coast Half Marathon’s inaugural event started out amidst the wettest and windiest day of 2008 so far. If it were summer it would have been a tropical storm.
My teammate ran the 5K. I did the half marathon.
The race director arranged for a bicyclist to escort me on the course. She didn’t realize what she was signing up for. What a great sport! What a great support crew! Through the grittiest rain and the staunchest winds she hung in there, soaked to the bone, constantly encouraging me and chatting.
Everyone was hopeful that the rain had passed. The race started with winds at about 20 MPH SSW. That gave me a slight tailwind as we traveled east on Arendell Street. At mile 1.5, my mother braved the storm and walked out to the street to cheer for me. At about mile three the lead runners began to catch me as I approached the port. It is always inspiring to see the frontrunners in a race. Heidi Tucker, the women division winner, looked like she flew as her long strides pulled her through the storm.
By now my teammate was beginning her race.
I turned south on Fourth Street and thought I had hit a brick wall. The wind was howling around the end of Sugarloaf Island and being funneled in between buildings. It blew so hard I was beginning to have my doubts about crossing the bridge. As I turned back west on Evans Street, the crosswind had a slight headwind component, giving me an additional challenge. I passed mile 4 and could feel the wind freshening and the temperature dropping. My bike escort was right there grinding along beside me. It was starting to rain.
The other runners were great! Many were friends with whom I had participated before. Many called me by name. Many stuck out a thumbs-up. Many yelled out encouragement. Everyone should experience this kind of support for something they do in their life. It’s no wonder I’m hooked.
But what about that bridge? The wind was still freshening. It was starting to rain pretty hard. The gusts were probably up to 30 MPH. I approached the foot of the bridge where it was about mile 4.5. The wind was almost straight head-on.
I started training on this bridge last summer. I need the gradient to train for my ultimate quest, the Marine Corps Marathon. I’ve been across the bridge with 20 MPH winds before. That usually means grinding along slowly in my lowest gear if it’s a headwind. I figured the southward ascent up the steep side of the bridge would be on the lee side of the bridge. That would take some of the sting out of the wind until I got near the top.
Riding at Bogue Banks has become almost a weekly ritual for my teammate and me. We have ridden up and down highway 58 from Fort Macon to Indian Beach in training. We had ridden this very course in all kinds of weather. The previous weekend I cranked across this bridge six times. It’s a good thing.
The first few yards of the climb up the bridge slowed me to a crawl. My bicycle escort dismounted and started walking. The rain was now a full-fledged downpour. I think every runner that passed me shouted in encouragement. The spirit on the course was awesome! The steepest part of the bridge is about at mile 5. It’s a 6.3% grade. I know this because my teammate had measured it with a digital inclinometer (did I mention we were serious about this?).
Eighty feet in the air on that bridge, gusts were probably 40 miles an hour. The rain was like one of those summer thunderstorms when your windshield wipers can’t go fast enough to see. In, fact I could only see about thirty feet in front of me. The combination of the wind and the rain literally stung my face like being sprayed with a fire hose. Runners were shielding their faces with their hands and arms as they charged the blast.
By now my teammate had finished the 5K. She remarked that they could see black cloud obscuring the top of the bridge. At the finish line there was a combined air of angst; 5K’ers and spectators were concerned about family members enveloped in somewhere that storm.
I don’t know how to describe this but I’ll try. The resistance from the wind normally slows me down. This wind, with the added mass of gallons of rain, on top of the grueling grade of the bridge, made me feel like a salmon trying to swim up a waterfall. Now I understand why they jump out of the water.
The trudge, or swim, south on the Atlantic Beach Causeway was still a slow, grueling, grind. Many of the race volunteers had bailed, presumably assuming the race would be cancelled. Most did not. They were right there, at their stations. One group of youngsters steadfastly handed out water and cheered the runners at mile six in the worst of the torrent. I tried to thank every volunteer and policeman I saw on the course.
By the time I reached the Atlantic Beach light, about eight inches of rain had accumulated in the street. Runners were darting through parking lots and along curbs, trying to stay out of the puddles. As I plowed through the water, surely as high as my seat, I thought to myself, “This guarantees it. Now there’s not a dry spot on my body.”
By now the rain had subsided. The eastward dash out Fort Macon Road was under crosswinds and was sheltered somewhat by the tall homes along the south side of the street. I was able to make up a good bit of time lost coming up the bridge. As I passed runners, I felt a genuine aura of relief, as if they were glad to see I had survived the stormy bridge onslaught. I caught up with another runner from Hope For The Warriors and other friends who had passed me on the bridge. We exchanged mutual cheers of support for each other. March’s lion-like downpour had not dampened the spirits of these racers.
Once I was back to the Atlantic Beach Causeway at mile 10.5 I received a well-deserved reward. A tailwind. A 20 MPH tailwind. I leaned back against my backrest, stretched out my arms, and pulled; instantly rewarded with a blast of speed. It was a great feeling, like my memories of sailing on a beam reach in Beaufort Inlet. The words out my mouth described exactly how it felt: “Yee-ha!”
The wind pounding against the upslope of the bridge amplified the wind speed, making the return climb up the bridge “a piece of cake.” At the top, the gale blasting at our backs, I checked with my loyal escort, “Got brakes?” Shouting to other runners at the top of my lungs, “Passing on the right!” I crested the peak and zipped down the lee side of the bridge. It became obvious that the handful of runners descending the bridge in front of me were deafened by the howl of the wind. They couldn’t hear my warnings. For our mutual safety, I rode my brakes heavily down the last half of the hill, although I’m sure I startled one runner as I weaved around her at the bottom of the incline.
The rest of the course was a milk run. It was, however, an honor to pass the home of my dear friend, JT-, with whom I share a similar disability. She had been driven indoors earlier by the weather so I shouted her name as I cranked past her porch.
At the finish line, runners and spectators lined the finish chute, cheering loudly. I have never received such an enthusiastic reception at the finish. I think it was partly because of the shared experience with the weather of the runners, spectators, and volunteers and partly just the indomitable friendly nature of my fellow Crystal Coasters. The finisher’s medal, appropriately enough, bears a picture of the Atlantic Beach Bridge, my formidable adversary that day. I hugged the volunteer who hung the prize around my neck.
So, how did I do? My time was 2:21:13. I’ve done better, but given my experience with the “speedbump” in the course, I’m happy. In the “is the glass half full or half empty” department, this was the inaugural Crystal Coast Half Marathon and I was the only handcrank participant. That not only makes me the winner in my (albeit unofficial) division, it makes me the course (handcrank) record holder! Not only that, but my teammate, won in her age group. So now she is a 5K course record holder for her division, too! That ought to give my mother enough bragging rights amongst her quilting friends for a while.
Looking back, if you factor out the miserable weather, what is left is a feeling of incredible camaraderie amongst the runners who endured the trek together, the mutual support we all shared along the way, a huge feeling of gratitude for the volunteers and police who were there along the way, and a overwhelming sense of accomplishment at the end. Those are the memories I’ll savor until the end of my days.
My participation in events such as this are dedicated to the honor and memory of service men and women wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. I raise money with my campaign, 2008 Miles of Hope, through donations to Hope For The Warriors. I’m not a wounded warrior, I’m a grateful beneficiary of their sacrifices. Learn more about Hope For The Warriors.
Please donate to my fundraising campaign to support wounded warriors, 2008 Miles of Hope. All the money I raise goes to Hope for The Warriors. This phenomenal organization provides Warrior Wishes, Direct Needs Grants, and Spouses’ Scholarships. Now they have embarked on the creation of a Hope and Care Center, a rehabilitation and wellness facility for wounded warriors.
You can easily make a donation to Hope For The Warriors by using my secure credit card donation site:
http://www.active.com/donate/2008Miles
Or donate by check. Download our donation form, fill it out, and send it to me with your donation to my address on the form:
Donation form.pdf
-Let's Roll!
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