Lifelong Love of Running

Donna and I completed the Santa Rosa Half-Marathon for the second time in two years. As always, we have a great time walking and talking. While engaged in conversation, we noticed that an older gentleman we thought we'd passed along with a few other walkers was actually breaking away from us. We both laughed and designated him as our pacer since he was so clearly steady.

More talking, walking and laughing as only BFFs of 25 years can do. We looked around sometime after passing mile four and our pacer was even farther ahead of us. By mile six, he was completely out of sight and we laughed all the more at ourselves. We couldn't keep up with our designated elderly pacer.  

After our post-race fruit and recovery stretching, Donna and I sat on a bench as Daryl passed by.  We started a conversation and asked him to sit with us a while. Donna had a non-alcoholic beer and I had the alcohol-included variety. I don't remember who offered him what, but he responded with a wave of the hand that only those confident in their wisdom can do. "I only drink water," he said.

Donna and I spent several minutes asking him questions which he graciously and appreciatively answered. He shared that he walked full-marathons most of his life, only adding half-marathons in the last few years. This year he expects to complete 4 full marathons and 5 half marathons. We were outpaced by 80-year-old Daryl B. who has logged over 340,000 race miles over 63 years of completing full and half marathons.

As we marveled at his passion for both racing and life, he would occasionally throw in additional tidbits for our enjoyment. At one point adding, "you know I am running on an injured hip."

Donna and I agreed nearly fell off the bench with laughter and made clear that he need not have share that part.

Another side...

The majority of any profession are good people. And there are always some whose behavior is shockingly beneath the norm. There are also, always, those who go above and beyond.

Passion

The restaurant owner couldn't help remarking that my friend and I clearly enjoyed each other's company. Laughter and life-giving energy emanated from our table near the front of this small authentic Mediterranean eatery.

It'd been well over a year, probably two, since Catherine and I hung out together. We're both educators; both love our endearingly jealous dog companions and landed perfect-for-us significant others who live to explore, travel, discuss and devour life. We're also both incredibly passionate about physical expression - she for decades, me for just over a year.

After we giggled, joked, laughed and marveled at the antics of the newest generation of Americans, I shared my new passion for the half-marathon. Not a social media consumer, she missed my Facebook live and photos from the races. I told her how surprised I was to discover a passion for physicality in middle-age. I certainly never imagined that an activity as mundane as walking would become an activity around which I schedule my days and weekends.

"It wasn't that there was anything missing before. It's just that I suddenly discovered something I love." For Catherine it was different. Before she walked into her first dance class, she knew there was something more to be had in life, but no idea what that might be. The moment she walked in and experienced the movement, freedom and fun of dance, she was hooked. 

My discovery was more of a courting than love at first sight. I wanted to push my limits, to prove something, by walking a full marathon. On my way to proving my power, I fell in love. Thirteen-Point-One completes me.

A couple hours after our meal together, I heard a story about Ann Daniels, an arctic pioneer. She reached both the North and South Poles with all female teams. Phenomenal. Certainly more daring an adventure than walking thirteen miles in mild-to-warm weather on pavement. At some point in the interview she said that the first time she ventured across the ice for sport, she was hooked.

I don't share Daniel's penchant for high-stakes adventure, but I can relate to the joy of discovering one's passion in the realm of physicality.  Like all true passions, it grows our souls. We push to master our minds and manage emotions as much as we train the body.

The body is like a vehicle the soul leases. Some like to keep their cars polished up with low mileage; some like to maximize the longevity of use. Daredevils like to see what the machinery can do under extreme conditions. And some are determined to establish a relationship with their vehicle not as thing to be used in service of our souls, but as an integrated dynamic organism in partnership with our soul.

See you on the path.

Listen to the Whispers for an Easier Life

I'm very fortunate. Blessed, really. I landed on the curled end of a wrought iron planter stand. It punctured the bottom of my heel and, with the force of me dropping down onto it, curled it's way through the flesh and out through a hole it created just beneath my ankle bone.

Given the infinite possibilities of ways to land, I certainly would have preferred one of the zero injury options. Nonetheless, my podiatrist literally dropped his jaw after inspecting the injury. I cleared bone by 1 cm and my foot's tendon by 1 mm. At most, I'm a few weeks off from training. Given the infinite possibilities of a landing that punctures my foot in two places, I consider myself blessed.

Earlier that fateful Sunday afternoon, I'd admitted to my partner that I was unsuccessful in fully fighting off a cold. I'd taken immune-boosting supplements for three days prior. What I failed to do was carve out sufficient time for rest. I promised my partner that I'd spend the day resting in recognition of the need to do so. That's what I said.

What I did was head over to the local hardware store to pick up a couple plants and the materials to create a magnet attaching screen across the french double doors to my upstairs balcony. My reasoning was that the fresh air coming through the wide open balcony would certainly add to my healing while I lay in bed.

Before beginning the project, I went to water my thirsty plants. A split second after I closed the door behind me, I realized I forgot to unlock it. My keys, phone, dog and wallet were all inside, on the other side of the door. I was successful in climbing over the rail, maneuvering myself onto the adjacent roof, getting hold of the outside of the rails and lowering myself to within three feet of the ground. I was unsuccessful in missing the wrought iron planter I'd moved just fifteen minutes earlier after moving around the new and old plants.

Choosing rest would have forestalled this entire event. The scratchy throat was God's whisper to rest. The punctured foot was a raised voice. I followed doctor's orders and took the week off from work. I don't want the universe to scream at me.

Take my words of caution to heart. Listen to life's whispers.

See you on the path.

If It Was Easy, Everyone Would Do It

"If it was easy, everyone would do it," said the officer as I turned a corner in mile four. The runners passed him thirty minutes earlier. The joggers were long gone, too. Walkers, like myself, were making a slow and steady, step by step trod through the inaugural Tustin Hangar Half Marathon.

His words were meant as sincere encouragement to folks he presumed could use themand I received them as intended, "That's very kind of you." There was no way for him to know I was delighted, joyful and empowered by my pace.

In my first several races, my internal dialogue included constant reminders that I would finish no matter what. Eventually, my body taught me that it could go the distance and I could then focus on the quality of my recovery. After surviving stop-me-in-my-tracks leg cramps as well as post-race soreness that hung around, I learned that just a few days a week training during the weeks leading up to a race ensures a quick and easy recovery.

Something shifted in the twelfth race. I was able to stay present to move out of my head and into the physical experience of the race. I noticed when my breathing was too light, indicating I was starting to cruise my way to a longer race time. I became present to the sensations in my legs that let me know when they wanted to shift pace to a jog or when they wanted to slow it down a bit.

It was a phenomenal experience to relax into the race rather than fight the distance step-by-step as if I needed to beat miles into submission. I'm looking forward to enjoying this presence of mind in the next few races. I can only imagine what other gifts my 100 halfs quest will deliver over time.

See you on the path.

It's All Downhill Half-Marathons

16 Amazing All-Downhill Half Marathons - HalfMarathons.Net

Superman is not a real hero. You are!

Every action we take to cut down on pollution, to curb excess carbon emissions preserves the diversity, beauty and ecological well-being of our planet. I'd love it if there were a true Superman who could speedily fly counterclockwise to our earth's spin, reversing time and giving us a second chance to get ahead of the climate change we're experiencing. (Note: Whether we are in multi-millennial natural pattern or a human-created change, lessening our part is all good.) A superhero move available to each of us is replacing a single short car trip a week with a walk or bike ride.

One of the benefits of becoming an avid half-marathoner is the willingness to switch out the car for comfortable walking shoes at any time. I'm fortunate that my partner loves to walk as well. Last month, we walked to our New Year's dinner at a favorite fine Italian restaurant.

Our most recent weekend walk was the first to our favorite Mexican spot where our favorite waiter remembers how we like our mole', our margaritas and rewards our loyalty with an always-amazing complimentary flan to finish the night's culinary experience.

Our walk included a shortcut through the neighborhood sport's complex, pass the skate park and sheriff's station and two locally owned coffee shops we'll likely try out. As we crossed the final light into the entertainment complex, I remarked that as much as I enjoyed having the sidewalk to ourselves, it would have been even nicer to pass other couples, enjoying a casual, relaxed walk to dinner, movies or evening shopping. There was not a single other couple walking instead of driving.

As much as I love half-marathons, I'll confess that I have no desire to walk ten miles to dinner and back. Still, with the average evening out a drive of only two to three miles, it feels good to work off some part of the food and drinks before I return home.

No one will see the big "S" on your chest as you walk instead of drive to and from dinner. Just know, silently as she spins, the earth thanks you.

See you on the path.

The Two Step Process to Uncover Your Passion

I can save you from reading twenty books on finding your purpose and thousands of dollars on coaching.

We all want to live a life that lights us up and offers the experience of fulfillment, even if in fleeting moments. I can help. It takes two steps. Step 1: Notice. Step 2: Act on what you notice.

Step 1.  Notice

What do you love to do when you are not on Facebook, not watching your favorite streaming series and not talking about what you saw on Facebook or recounting the scenes of your favorite streaming video? How do you enjoy spending time in action?

Do you watch a lot of cooking shows or actually cook? Do you make time to get out on the soccer field a couple times a month or year? Your passion is right in front of your face. It just may not be as sexy as you've been lead "passions" should appear.

One of my BFF's loves to sew. He makes pillowcases, potholders, pant and amazing quilts for his friends and family. These works of art inspire us. He has a rare creative knack for not only capturing the current personality of the recipient, but also the untapped beauty of their inner selves. His sewing is as much ministry as artistic expression. His passion is contributing to the growth and healing of souls through inspired works of art. He does this for free and many of us chip in fabric and funds to help spread the love.

Notice what you do that brings you an inherent joy. Cooking? Baking? Writing letters? Skating? Surfing? Engaging in political discussions? What do you do that lights up your soul?

Step 2: Act on what you love.

I love walking. I could list a dozen aspects that appeal to me--quiet, outdoors, solo, challenging, adventurous, disciplined, focused, physical, taxing, cheap, limitless, leisurely and so on. It lights me up. So I do more and more of it. I walk half-marathons.

Whatever you notice yourself doing with joy, grace and the experience of fulfillment, do more of that.

Two steps to a fulfilled life.

See you on the path.

Register Kindness at Surf City Half Marathon

A couple night's ago, I started searching through emails. I most certainly registered for the Surf City Half Marathon months ago. It was in my calendar. That was my proof.

Certainty proved insufficient when they did not find me listed as a participant. I shuffled my way to the on-site registration. My first. The young volunteer was incredibly friendly as she juggled three last minute registrants and our questions.

They had a smooth setup. Slide your driver's license and your personal information is auto-filled into the screen. No typing your name or any other details. Click on your race choice and then slide your credit card.

In the couple seconds it took for me to marvel at the simplicity and ease, the woman on my left made a comment I didn't fully hear. I said, "I'm good." I thought she mistook my moment of marveling as a need for assistance. She pushed a piece of paper a little closer to me and said "$10 is $10." There was a bit of disbelief that I wouldn't want what she was offering, so I tried to figure out what I'd missed.

She was sharing a generic discount code. The immediate camaraderie among the community of participants is one of the joys of the sport. With the exception of the handful of racers who strive to be among the first three of their sex to cross the finish line, the remaining tens of thousands of us are racing against ourselves, pursuing our personal best times. Our goal, whether we run, jog or walk is to complete the race.

Knowing that we are all there to meet and exceed a purely personal challenge brings a giddiness at the EXPO centers where we pick up our bibs, shirts and supplies from vendors. Kindness comes easy when each of us is focused on our own race and not that of others.

See you on the path.

Ignore Your Feelings. Make Your Move.

There's something wonderful about staying under warm and cozy covers on a Saturday morning after a busy week. This was that kind of morning. Bright and sunny, yet cool and crisp, it was the perfect morning to spend casually surfing the web with a cup of caffeine. That's what I felt like doing.

Instead, I put on workout wear. My mind teased me with options. I could chill today and work out really early tomorrow before an afternoon engagement. As if getting up and out early on a Sunday morning was going to be miraculously more appealing than this one.

My dog, Chocolate, gave me a beautiful brown-eyed, glazed over glance, reminding me that walking him would make both he and I feel a lot better than leaving him behind.  I promised to walk him later and laced up my walking shoes.

With every step preparing to leave the house, I found reason after reason to put off my walk. Bottom line, I didn't feel like it.

I owned that I didn't feel like it. Reveled in it for a good, long minute or five. Then, armed with my pedometer app, a back up energy gel, mints, gum and money for an electrolyte-filled beverage I left Chocolate behind, headed out the door and put one foot in front of the other.

That's the beauty of making commitments. There's another half-marathon to walk next weekend. It'll come to pass whether I train or not. Better to train. Sorry, feelings. You just got trumped.

See you on the path.

Walking is an act of exploration.

Image fromhttp://mikedunfeegroup.com/communities/bixby-area/

Like most other folks, I love a long walk in a scenic environment. As of now, that's not an everyday reality. Living a full life, some days I save time by combining training walks with errands. I skip the music and podcasts, choosing to notice my environment. Walking becomes connective, grounding and redemptive.

There's a great stretch of new shops on Long Beach's Atlantic Avenue in the Bixby Knolls area. Before beginning my 100 halfs journey, I am confident I'd driven down this part of Atlantic Avenue several times a week for over a decade. My nearest Trader Joe's was the primary destination. I hadn't bothered to notice all the new eateries, breweries or shops that have opened in the last few years.

Now that I squeeze in walks whenever and wherever I can, I find myself pulling over at various spots along Atlantic Avenue, changing into my walking shoes and checking out the neighborhood. A few years ago, the street was all but quiet after 7pm. The restaurants were favorites of the elder residents with few places for twenty- and thirty-somethings to enjoy. The stores were furniture stores and service providers whose business signs had hung for decades.

These new small shops and eateries are easy to miss at thirty-five or more miles per hour.

California culture is lived through our cars. It's easy to run the same errands, week after week, along the same streets and highways without ever noticing the people, buildings and shops you drive past daily. We're passing life by in our cars.

I invite you to squeeze in a walk in your community this week. Whether you walk to train, to get from point A to point B, or as an occasional adventure, pick a new route and explore.

See you on the path.

Thinking of Competing in Your First Half?

What Every Beginner Needs to Know About Training For a Half - HalfMarathons.Net

So you've been bitten by the running bug, have you? As we ring in the New Year, many runners create different goals and resolutions. Maybe you started a fitness journey, or maybe you're a seasoned 5k veteran but whatever your thought process is, you have decided to run your very first half marathon.

I Want to Belong

Official logo of 100 Half Marathons Club

Yesterday I squeezed in a forty minute walk between a teaching commitment and a family one, while talking to my oldest, eldest BFF.  I was so proud of myself. I've found something I love.
My BFF's response, "Oh yeah. You love to belong."

"What? Belong? I'm not a belonger!" To say someone wants to belong is like saying they suffer from insecurity. I'm not saying I'm immune to insecurity, I just didn't see what it had to do with my commitment to officially register my commitment to complete 100 half-marathons by joining the club of the same name.

Because it takes completing 10 half-marathons to join the 100 Half Marathons Club, I registered to complete my tenth this weekend rather than wait another three weeks for Surf City. Does that make me someone who needs a group to make life meaningful?

The answer is absolutely! We're social creatures. Our humanity is at its best (and worst) only in relation to others.

So now I own it. I want to belong.

See you on the path.

Half Strategy

Races are relative. There's no ultimate slow or ultimate fast. Unless you're competing at the level of top three finishers by sex, your time is relatively faster than and relatively slower than other finishers. We all pick a person or group to be relatively faster than at some point during the race. Often, the choice is an entirely superficial, even prejudicial assessment of relative experience, age, condition, shape or gear.

During my last half, a slimmer, more experienced older woman chose me as her "relatively faster than." As I'd approach her, walking with a long stride, she'd pump up her walk to a small stride jog. It was so predictable it was funny. 

I enjoy watching people do this dance. If she's a jogger destined to pull a better time, I'm happy to motivate her to gain some distance ahead of me. If it's a slower finisher's ego engaging in the dance, she'll eventually tire of attempting a pace that isn't her own. My job, my only job, is to keep my own pace.

At about mile 7, I'm slightly ahead of her and increasing the distance. I know I need to use the portable facilities, but I also like the idea of keeping my pace. I tell my ego to take a break and head to the line. My older buddy who was behind me thirty yards does the same.

They have four portables where seven are needed. Two minutes pass and the line is moving slowly. Three people in the line, get out and get back to the race. I understand their thinking. It feels like a waste to increase your time by five or more minutes for what should be a 30 second pit stop. I stepped out of line and walked about twenty feet. Second thoughts send me back to the line.

The older woman was in line behind me. As I approach, without looking at me, she moves up a step to close the gap. The message is clear that I'll need to get back in line behind her, not in my prior spot. This sixty-something-year-old was not taking any prisoners. She was not getting behind her designated "I'm faster than."

That break was all she needed. She put her jog in high gear and I didn't see her again unless she was on the opposite side of a turnaround loop.

Do I mind that this woman finished ahead of me? Not at all. I finished ahead of my "I'm faster than," too.

If you remember that all success is relative, peace of mind is steady.

See you on the path.

Tips to Run (and walk) By

Race Strategy For Distance Runners

Title Scramble: Review Dirty Leads Beer Clean Fun With Waitress To

Like Michael Jordan commitment to his North Carolina shorts, I have a pre-race beer the night before half-marathons. After vehemently insisting on its importance in race 7, I decided against in race 8 to watch my calories. That didn't go well. No more missing the pre-race beer. BTW, Studies shows these rituals can improve performance.

I invited my mom to tag along for the ride to pick up by bib for tomorrow's race. I gave her a couple options for lunch and was beyond delighted that she chose a nearby BJ's Brewery. I ordered my usual hoppilicious IPA. It tastes odd. The cool, sweet attentive waitress is quick to offer an exchange and promises to have the bartender double check it.

"We just cleaned the taps today...Maybe you've never tasted (that beer) right after the tap is cleaned."

Without missing a beat, I add, "I guess I like it dirty." Even my 70-year-old conservative living mother chuckled, though not as heartily as I or the waitress. That started a chain of banter, familiarity and exceptional service that stood out for me as a customer. The waitresses sense of humor, joy, patience, kindness and attentiveness moved me to do more than leave a good tip.

I switched to the Green Flash IPA. Perfect. The cherry glazed salmon was the best I've had at any of the BJ's I frequent. My guess is the the taste of the meal was enhanced by the deepened relatedness amongst us three. Appreciating these small moments of connection makes the day more meaningful.

A few minutes ago, I left a great review of my experience on an online customer review site. While I was there, I also left a positive review of a T-shirt store that accepted and completed a last minute silk screen request at 8pm on a Friday night. I'm customizing my shirt for tomorrow's Southern California Half Marathon in Irvine.

The owner of the silk screen store apologized for not having it ready right at their 9pm closing time. She was committed to having it all line up just right. (Maybe I attract OCD folks...see yesterday's post.)

When was the last time you left a positive review for a business, service provider to help them get more customers, make more money and continue to provide the level of service you enjoyed? It takes less than five minutes to share great moments and great service. You'll help their business. You'll fill your heart. And the success you open for others has a way of finding its way back to you.

See you on the path.

Sticky Gray Goo or Ray of Sunshine?

Just completing an early evening 5 mile walk, I was in a good mood and headed toward my car.

I was walking toward a woman, just exiting her car. She carried an apron as she walk away from her car, so I assume she was either starting her shift or returning from a break. There were now twenty paces between us. She was halfway to the restaurant. I was behind her, heading in the direction of the car she exited.

She clicked her car alarm. She took a couple steps. Another click of the alarm. Two more steps and she clicks it three times. It was if she were trying to make music.

I walk away wondering if she was sending an unnecessary message to the indistinguishable person approaching from behind in dark tights and dark layered workout shirts. It was a bit misty out, so I was also wearing a multi-colored pastel hat that did not match even a little. At a distance, I might have looked a bit off from center.  Still, I think hitting the alarm three times would have sufficed. OCD? Paranoia?

She's now inside and serving, assisting or waiting to clock in. I'm thirty paces beyond her car, beyond the alarm sounds. Still, I'm wondering. In fact, I'm so busy wondering what her problem was that I barely notice the two gentleman heading towards me. Their heading from the gym to their cars. One of them, the tall handsome one, says in a deep voice, "How's it going?" His friendliness shakes off the sticky gray goo energy from alarm girl. Rays of soul sunshine clear my aura and set me back to right as rain.

Sometimes, I've left sticky gray goo behind, too. Other times, pure energizing sunshine. What impact did you have today on strangers and loved ones?

See you on the path.

Roscoe - The Reservoir Dog of Love

Fitting in a walk is as simple as looking around for a good place to park. This tiny one block square park in Signal Hill was perfect for a few laps.

What a privilege it was to choose this park in time to witness Roscoe's companion/owner's generosity. He didn't have to let a young man take over fetch and return time at the park. Nor did he have to let Roscoe tickle the soul of a little girl for a good ten minutes.

Five laps in, I noticed Roscoe and owner arrive at the park. On the sixth lap around I see a young man throwing the ball and Roscoe, the sleek red Jack Russell Terrier is racing to fetch and return. Watching them brings a smile to my face. The young man, wearing his black nylon head wrap and shorts looks like he came to the park for an impromptu workout with his little sister tagging along to play at the park. Roscoe is excited and full of energy.

Rounding lap 7, I witness the little girl kneel down to let Roscoe jump on and greet her. His excitement takes her aback. She lets out a squeal filled with a mix of surprise, delight and trepidation. Roscoe jumps even more and she succumbs to the love. He will not be denied the opportunity to express love for the sheer joy of it.

For me life's coincidences are all opportunities to hear a message from the universe. For me, it's clear. Roscoe and the generosity of his owner/companion reminded me that we are all reservoirs of love waiting to quench the spiritual thirst of others.

See you on the path.

"It's Gonna Finish Like It Started"

A relative of mine is quite the colorful character. He’s the kinda guy who might say “I’ll cut you” if you piss him off and then within a minute make a joke about the entire affair and leave you in stitches with an incorrect but hilarious retelling of the moment. The retelling will inevitably cast him as more intelligent and handsome. I overheard him say “Damn, how’d you get so handsome?” while looking in a mirror on more than a few occasions.

“It’s gonna finish like it started,” is another of his oft-repeated oldies but goodies.

As mentioned in the prior post, I did not train for the Holly Jolly Half Marathon. I finished thanks to the kindness of a middle-aged woman from Pasadena. Her compassion when she saw me cramp up just after passing mile twelve was a highlight of the day. She literally walked the last mile with me, adjusting her pace to mine and allowing me to lean on her steps from the finish line when I cramped up again.

Knowing that this was not a stellar performance, I was surprised to find myself placed third overall for women in the final results. I liked it. The ranking was absolutely wrong and underserved.  Still, I found it satisfying to view. “Wow, that looks good!” “How’d I get so fast?”

A quick check on the California Half Series showed me with 11 points for the 3 races completed in their series. The error had gone viral, impacting my rankings on other databases. I didn’t even know earning more than one point for a race was possible. Given that I walk rather than run races, the odds of seeing another 9 point score for a single race is slim-to-none.

It's gonna finish like it started.

I had no integrity while I trained. Then my integrity was tested during the race, as thoughts of quitting passed through my mind for the first time in over a dozen races of various distances. Consistent with the start, my results were outside integrity:  Rather than finishing 69th of 74 women, I was reported as finishing third.

I have reported the error. I’m starting 2017 with integrity. Every race is an opportunity to train the soul as well as the body.

See you on the path.

In the Beginning

I've learned a great deal over the course of completing 8 half-marathons. Camarillo's Holly Jolly  taught me that while I can complete 13.1 miles with grit and persistence, without training, joy, fun and accomplishment are missing in action. Yes, a no-brainer which apparently required a reminder.

It was the first-time I entertained thoughts of quitting before completion. "No one's making you do this!" "You've completed a bunch. No one even knows you're here." "Just pretend this never happened." It was a small group of less than a couple hundred half-marathoners, 10kers and 5kers assembled on a chilly Sunday morning at a sports complex. 

A combination of holiday gatherings, winter's earlier sunsets and a dash of arrogance brought me to Holly Jolly's starting line with only a handful of short walks in the weeks leading up to it.

I did complete it...with cramps and the gracious accompaniment of a fellow half-marathoner who walked the last mile with me.

It was a grueling double loop. I passed the area between miles 5 and 6 six times, which is 4 times too many. I passed it for the first loop of lap one; through it to the second loop of lap one; back to the start. Pass it again the same three times for the 2nd lap. I much prefer an "out and back."

 

How'd my 100 half's start?

It began as a training program to complete the Los Angeles marathon in the fall of 2014. As part of my twelve week training program, I completed 16 miles on a Saturday afternoon. I'd steadfastly followed the weekly training schedule, so I was challenged but not beaten down.

I skipped the March 2015 Los Angeles Marathon. I wasn't ready. Instead, registering for the October 2015 Jet Blue Full Marathon in my hometown of Long Beach, CA. The plan was to use the extra seven months to reach a 24 mile walk during training.

That didn't happen. I dropped down to the half-marathon the day before that first event. I've been hooked ever since.

The 13.1 mile half marathon is far enough to challenge and doable enough to repeat. In fact, it was the perfect distance, the perfect challenge.

This blog is my opportunity to share the adventure of completing 100 half-marathons during my fifties. My hope is to inspire friends, acquaintances and strangers to put on their walking shoes, improve their overall health and create time for a practice of mindfulness.

See you on the path.