Slow and Steady

Fitness Tip #417.

If you missed the first 416, check your shoelaces, drink lots of water and eat more fruits and vegetables.

Now let's skip way ahead to more serious training advice.  My girlfriend was planning her new running career on a recent commute to her office.   She lives only a few kilometres from work, spoiled all winter with morning drives and fresh coffee.

Bootcamp starts March 1st honey!

With the eagerness of a 10 year old the day before school begins, she's discussing her training schedule and plans for conquering the sport of running.  "Rome wasn't built in a day, dear".   (or something like that).  So I explain.....

Success in sport takes time, unfortunately too many eager beavers (modern day, type A, hard working 30-40 somethings who demand fast results) get into sports like cycling, running and triathlons and expect immediate gratification.

Now don't get me wrong, very quickly someone can hack a few minutes off their 5 and 10 km run times (90 days).   In just a few seasons I have seen many long distance runners lop double-digit gains from their 26.2 mile journeys, with some dropping 30-45 minutes from their finish times.   Usually it's a weight issue combined with a super strong desire to brag a little more in the coffee shop.  By "weight" I mean those easy extra pounds that we all carry around with us, the first 10-15 that melt away after the routine of adding more miles each week, month after month. 

Some of us have ALOT more to give back..which is awesome of course.  The tricky part seems to be 3-4 years in, many hit the "fitness wall".  The game is over.  Complacency sets in.  Races are entered for "fun" and "scenery" as PB's are over.  It takes SO MUCH effort to shave 30 seconds now from a 10km, or a few minutes in a marathon, doesn't seem to be worth all the sweat, pain and dinners free from 2nd desserts.

Let me share with everyone a simple, proven, scientific fact that yours truly also went through years ago.

stay tuned.

Be hopeful....

Logs Rocks and Steel Race Report (2010)

If you drop your Clif Bar and Eload Gel in the forest will anyone hear you scream?

(When you are starving 60 minutes later and discover them missing)?  (:

I am sitting exhausted and slightly drunk 7 hrs after finishing just 2/3 of an amazing Adventure Race today, the 3rd Annual Logs Rocks and Steel.  It takes place in beautiful (and, rugged) Haliburton, near Dorset, two hours NE of Toronto.  It's actually billed as an Off-Road Triathlon with a paddle in lieu of a swim.  "No navigation required" is how they advertise this, and McDonald's claims that they have healthy food on their menu too.

This is the canoe Steve and I had to haul over 9 portages, we hate you Bob!

I would rather have swam in a murky pond with tall weeds than go through that "paddle" again.  Or babysit 4 kids under 4.  But more about that later....let's talk about Bob Millar the Race Organizer and my friend Bill Wells first.

This unique race was actually created by a couple of extreme athletes, so I should have thought about that before I entered and then trained very little this summer.  Bob Millar and his team mates like Chiropractor Bill Wells race around the world in multi-day races such as this one, so it's kinda cool to race on their practice turf!  Google their names and put adventure race after, see what pops up.

I bumped into Bill when Steve and I checked in late the nite prior.  For those new here, Steve Jones is my Go-To Adventure Racing partner, now our 4th time racing together over the years.  He's a friend from the running club days, and really into hard core experiences such as ironman triathlons, extended canoe trips into the wilderness and commuting daily through Toronto traffic into Mississauga.  Finally, Steve also lives in Scarborough, where he grew up, so that says it all.

When he trains for his annual marathons, he drinks virtually no water and sport drink on his long runs, so I don't feel guilty when he refuses to drink from my camel back 90 minutes into our 2hr trail run today.  He's the perfect racing partner in these events, a seasoned pro, tough as nails.  Until I ask him to check his map and he asks "what map"?

But enough about the fittest 52 year old on the planet, back to Bill Wells!

P.D."How are you expecting to do tomorrow?.... I ask, a pretty natural thing to say on the eve of an epic day of racing, with someone who has stood on more than a few podiums.

B.W. "Well I was 2nd last year (by 5 minutes – despite getting lost for 18 minutes on the bike) so I am going for first place again.

P.D. "Wow, are you in better shape this year?"

B.W. "I finished 4^th in 4:35 2 weeks ago in a half-ironman triathlon, but Jacob Van Dorp (last years Logs Rocks Steel winner) was 4:29, so he's fitter too".

(Sounds like Rocky 2 shaping up tomorrow in the forest)

Ed note - I too did a few training races to warm up for this, but somehow a 90 minute race at the recent Toronto Triathlon doesn’t seem quite enough!   Not to mention last nite instead of stretching, visualizing and loading up on a Power Smoothie I drank a few Coronas, ate an entire bag of Sun Chips and watched the U.S.Open till midnite.

B.W.  “Are you guys ready and fit for tomorrow (or something polite like that)?”

P.D.  “Oh yeah, but we’re not that serious, we even made sandwhiches”!  (famous last words, seriously)

Good luck Bill!

Race Morning

So Steve and I took off on the first leg, a 15km Trail Run followed by the paddle section of 16km, with "3" portages (advertised).  Within seconds my trusty sidekick is down, 100 yards into the run, I guess we should have found a coffee this morning.  Wearing his road running shoes wasn't a good idea either, but that's Steve.  Between his retro, minimalist clothing and gear (his mountain bike has pedals more suitable to a cruiser) and my skimpy 1999 run shorts with "Ride for Karen" cycling socks we kinda show up at the starting line unprepared.  That’s why we don’t do these every month.

To be fair it was raining and the majority of the run made a typical 5Peaks Trail Race look like a walk on the beach.  Logs, Rocks, Moss, Broken Twigs, Hidden Tree Roots, Slippery Canadian Shield and Steel would be a better race title.  In fact, we found racer #1’s bib on the ground, Jacob Van Dorp, who actually has his own web-site – www.vandorpracing.com.   Surely that cannot be a good sign when the fastest competitor loses his race bib due to the terrain….

Oh, and mud...swamps, bogs and a whole bunch of rain turned the 15km run into a 2hr struggle.  And it didn't help our cause when we were passed by a female solo racer.  Personally, I don't mind, since my Ironman 2 years ago I am at peace with my career.  She looked very fit and experienced and Steve was okay with this one.  However, a few km's later when the 2nd gal shuffles by straight out of a Running Room 1/2 marathon clinic,  wearing a new Lance Armstrong "Livestrong" cycling top no less, well that was too much for Steve.

I had been struggling as usual after 45 minutes with my tight Soas muscles, a long-ago tennis injury that resurfaced after 4-5 years of heavy volume running.   Combined with a lot of time sitting in a chair (working) and on a bike the last few years, it’s an unusual “injury” that is treatable with a lot of stretching and deep tissue manual active release therapy.

Who the heck has time for all that anymore!

So I have to stop and stretch a few times and take walking breaks, but Steve is chomping at the bit, and for someone who began racing in the late 1970’s with a 2:50 marathon p.b. he’s old school and has his breaking point.  Me?  The more women in tight shorts who pass me, the better vantage point in my opinion, Girl Power has my vote!

Steve is clearly not happy, he’s picked up the pace, he’s mumbling under his breath and his fists are clenched, precisely why I pick him for these zany adventures!   We’re also soaked, from head to toe.  The rain continues to fall, and even in the canopy of the forest we’re getting pelted from above,  while a river crossing and numerous puddles / swamps / bogs have soaked our feet many times over.

Finally we reach our canoe, 2hrs later, starved of course and eager to rest our legs.  As a rule in these events I carried a camel back with our First Aid supplies, emergency thermal blankets, whistles, emergency sport gels and 2-liter water supply.  I was smart and experienced enough to bring dozens of various sport bars, gels, liquid fuel options and other snacks to keep our tummies filled while we navigated through mother nature’s finest terrain.  I was stupid enough to leave everything in the car, back at the starting line!

“Steve, I can’t find ANY bars in here, we’re screwed!   All I have our these two e-load gels, what about you?”   My trusty team-mate nervously hands over a half-eaten bar, knowing full well it could be the last fuel we have as we embark on 16km’s of paddling and portaging.  What are team-mates for after all, I did provide breakfast at 6:30 am of fruit and stale, cold potaoes….

As we pull on our $110 swank, sporty life jackets from MEC, I see a Clif Bar and E-load Gel in the convenient pockets where you would smartly store this emergency food.  “Wait, I did bring something afterall, yippee”….as I unzip the pocket and show off my stash, like a proud 14-year old showing off a toad scooped out of a pond.  It was like I found an unclaimed lottery ticket worth a million dollars so valuable these 400 calories were.

Of course in my excitement putting them back I failed to zip up the pocket, some lucky hiker or wandering rodent will hopefully enjoy these trail offerings one day in the future.

THE PADDLE

The paddle / portage was breathtaking, as promised by the race organizers and testimonials from past participants.  Despite the cloud, rain, fog and inclement weather, we mixed our consistent strokes with expressions of “wow”, “look at that” and extended of silent stares of the beauty surrounding us.  Some of the small lakes were void of any human contact, and what few cottages we saw were cute, simple and a breath of fresh air from the many new, modern “cottages” I was used to seeing and sleeping in Muskoka. There were even some cool wall-like rock facings that were tempting to climb and jump below into the warm, inviting waters.  I found myself constantly dipping my hands through the water to enjoy the sensation of clean, bath-like water, but also do clean the mud from each portage!

We also enjoyed many “breath-taking” moments hauling this large, rather heavy canoe (compared to everyone else’s kayaks and rented canoes).  We won’t re-print what was said after our 6^th portage, over a kilometer long, up and down slippery, narrow, rock-covered trails.  We felt more like movers carrying a Grand Piano on a winding staircase, with broken treads!  We were finally rewarded with a short, small paddle over lily pads, around displaced logs and clumps of mud sitting on the surface.  Crazy stuff! 

But the (pick one) “piece de resistance” was the swamp?  beaver dam pond?  Home of the Bog Monster?  we mucked through for 100 yards to reach yet another heavenly piece of land.  Imagine gingerly placing your foot outside the comfy confines of a canoe, and carefully placing it on what appears to be the surface.  The first step is fine, like Neil Armstrong’s nervous first step on the moon must have felt like. You breathe a sigh of relief.  The next step, WHOMP, your foot disappears and never touches the bottom, only your mid-section (called BALLS on a guy) stops your leg from ending up in China.  After you recover from the shock and wonder if something alive down there has been disturbed.  You pull your leg up so it can gasp at fresh air.  You can only hope that your stinking, wet sock has discouraged something living below this disgusting piece of earth is taken aback by the smell and isn’t ready to make a meal out of you just yet.

It’s at precisely this point that we wonder why we didn’t sleep in 6 hours ago.

Some of the paddling was truly spectacular!

Needless to say, Steve and I continue our conversation and wonder if quicksand really exists.  “Of course it does Steve, even here in Ontario”  (that will get him thinking the next time he visits Algonquin Park).  Even the solo female kayakers we had company with over the past hour were starting to lose their patience, in the water, out, in the water, out of the water, it seemed like more distance was spent carrying our boats and less actually in them.

We scarfed down our two emergency gels, and Steve finished his Gatorade bottles, but we were both running out of fuel as we scrambled and screamed our way through the last portage of almost 2 kilometres.  At least it was the flattest, and we were still in the company of one remaining solo kayaker from Newmarket, Melissa.  She was racing with us until dropping our sorry butts on this last land crossing.  Finally, Lake St. Nora, where the Frost Centre (and our race start line) was situated.  Soggy and half-worn, I decided now was a good time to check the map.  We were into a fierce wind now, an open lake with no protection.  Small white caps were showing themselves in the choppy waters.  We were out of fuel save for some water in my camelback, and Steve utters the line of the day.  “It’s not that bad out here!”  Almost as good as his bold, obvious statement a few miles earlier, “I guess we should hit the gym next year and lift some weights”.

God love my racing partner, but did I mention he was MAD as a HATTER?    Now the rain was coming down again.  Brutal.  The sun had yet to break through the clouds so the wet clothes from mile #2 on the run are still, yes, wet.  Our arms were pounding from all the heavy lifting we did over 9 portages at last count.  But there was a blessing ahead of us finally, and she was looking prettier than ever, our angel on the water.  Melissa was struggling too!  “Yes!”, we had to shout, we’re not alone in our misery out here….Indeed, our brave solo Kayaker was going backwards like we were, and appeared to be waiting for us to catch up.   “Steve, I believe she’s lost as well”

So we mosy on up beside her Kayak, and look at her dry, fresh map (of course women are organized) for some indication of where to head next.  “I think THAT is the Frost Centre over there” motions Melisaa, pointing thru the rain and foggy horizon.  “The red building straight ahead”.   Now what follows is probably the stupidest sentence in the history of adventure racing.  Ever.  Worldwide.  In history.  All time.  Stupidist, if that’s really a word.

“No, that’s not the Frost Centre, it’s much further THIS way” (opposite direction, further away from where we started, further away from the two other boats behind us who went THAT way 45 minutes ago).  “NO WAY is that the Frost Centre”.  Emphatically. 

Now please understand that the person (me) saying this has actually never seen the Frost Centre from the lake, or during daylight, or a picture in a magazine, tourism guide or from a plane above.  This same person (me) has actually never properly read an adventure racing map and is 0-5 in these types of events that require the study, analysis and execution of map reading.    This same person (me), however, actually sounds rather convinced and convinces our poor friend from Newmarket to listen to the idiot.

2 hours later, we found the Frost Centre.  And we were frosty, frozen and when we found out we missed the bike cut-off, someone on our team was Frosty Mad.

The Bike

There was no bike….lol

FINISH

So here we are, in my van, which I strategically parked close to the bike transition area, so we could change if needed quickly into our bike clothes, and more importantly we can access those two great sandwhiches I made!   Oh, and for the visibility of the logo.

Steve is still fuming.  We are officially DNF’ed, but I know we can sneak off and finish the bike portion, which is our strongest talent this summer.  I can tell he’s itching to get on his mountain bike.  “Buddy, just eat your sandwhich, I’ll turn up the heat, and we’ll get out there and finish this thing.”   I look over and Steve is shaking like a leaf.  We’ve been off the water for 20 minutes, the heat is full-on inside the van too.  “Ah, Steve, I think we’re done for the day……”

they REALLY were amazing sandwhiches....

We are parked 40 yards from the port-o-lets.  I look and see a familiar face getting into one.  “Look, it’s Bill Wells, he must be finished”.

I look at my watch….impossible.  But Bill’s body language and facial expression suggests he is finished the war in the forest (Rambo 6).  It isn’t very positive, .  I roll down the window, calling him over.  “Hey Bill, how was the race?”  He walks over, probably thinking those are good-looking sandwhiches.  His face is covered in mud, which tells the tale more than any words can.

“I didn’t win, I was 3^rd, the run went fine but in my new Kayak all those portages meant lots of scratches….I wasn’t prepared to bust up my new boat today.

?

That sounds like a logical strategy to me.  We held back for fear of getting our socks really dirty.

Steve, pass me the corn chips.

Peter

p.s. Congrats to Jacob Van Dorp for winning his 3rd race of the season, adding titles at the Frontier Adventure Challenge, Rockstar and now Logs Rocks and Steel.  Up next, the Abu Dhabi Adventure Challenge.  Sounds tame….

Barb Campbell takes home first place among the women, she’s a three time North American Rogaining champ, Canadian Orienteering Champ (Steve, we follow her next time) and Ski Marathon champ.  Both winners get to represent Canada in New Zealand later this fall for yet another ridiculously long, wet/cold/hot adventure in the wilds….

Raven Run Part 2

I can't believe this guy is sucking us in to run 8 miles, I can still feel the Corona in my belly.  It's pretty warm, it's now 4:45 and the group is antsy.

"We just ate, so maybe we can just take some pictures and join you tonite for the dinner"

Sarah nods approvingly, fear and shock would better describe her facial expression when I suggest maybe we should run then.   "It's only eight miles, and we can walk/run it".  

Raven:   "You can't attend the dinner if you're not in "the book".

Sarah:  "What book?"

Peter:  "There's  a book too?"

Sexy Canadian:  "Well it's actually a list, of every runner who has ran 8 miles with the Raven".

Canuck:  "C'mom, you have to run now, you are here, and you'll get a nickname too"

Sarah and Peter:   "A nickname"?

Raven:  "So are we running or what"....


(you get the jist of the conversation, as I mull over the possibility, and Sarah recovers from the reality that instead of another round of margaritas on a patio, after  an easy bike ride, she may have to run again, with the wrong bra no less)


Peter:   (to Sarah).   "We have to run, we may not be here tomorrow, or for another year in fact!"

Josh pipes in (my friend and exposure #1):   "You are running aren't you?"

Peter:  (to Raven)  "How fast do you guys go?"

Raven:  "After 35 years...trust me...it's not that fast"

Sexy Canadian:  "But you have to be back before Raven leaves the beach or you don't get on the list"

Sarah and Peter:   "Rats".   

Sarah:   "We just ate, and I am not dressed.  No way can I do this, especially after eating``

Peter:  ``Ì will go with you (famous last words, every runner has said this to a slower companion)....it will be fun, trust me (more famous last words).


So the group takes off, we`re at the back, and now there are 20 runners, Raven starts Roll Call and introduces the new people.  What a memory, and he mentions my World Record too (mascot marathon).  He also appreciates me and Commando in our barefeet, so he asks me what my nickname will be.  Apparently, he makes up alot of runner`s nicknames, but he senses my marketing savvyness and before long (8 seconds) I decide that Mascot is appropriate.   I could have gone with Promoter but Frankie Ruiz from the Miami Marathon has that name down.  (there are no duplicates on `the list`)

Raven remembers everyones nicknames, how long they have been running with him, and other tidbits to pass the first stretch south towards the pier.   We are also in the midst of special members today, Warrior most among them.  He was extremely overweight, out of shape and un-motivated two years earlier, living up north when he heard about Raven.  He shared with me that one day he decided, enough was enough, he wanted to change his lifestyle for the better.  He moved to Miami Beach, got fitter, started running 80 days ago and hasn`t missed a day!  This included the day prior, when he ran his first marathon AND ran 8 miles on the beach that afternoon.

No wonder his nickname is warrior!   He is going after the most auspicious Raven record of the lot, the most consecutive days running with the legend himself, which is actually owned by Poutine, a Canadian gal whom we met at dinner that evening.  Her streak ended un-ceremoniously at 151 days when she went back to Canada for the birthday of a relative (soft).   So now after less than a few miles, I start to have a fond and growing respect for what`s going on here.  Imagine the impact of this one individual, transforming his life and now inspiring others to do the same.  How the hell can I quit now!

Sarah and I though are quickly suffering from the heavy stomach, her sore legs and my aching body.  The main group sticks together and you quickly notice the stares and attention from late day sun worshippers collecting a few more rays of skin cancer.

There are many joggers and power-walkers, fast runners and certainly many have no idea of the history passing them by.   Speaking of passing, the lead group is already coming back the other way, and everyone encourages each other so it`s inspiring.   There are 4 routes I believe, this is south, north past the starting point, back to the pier, north again a little further than before, then all the way back to the pier a 3rd time (killer time now), then finally at the Lifeguard station.

Sarah and I are so far behind after a few miles, I worry that we`ll both miss the cut-off.  We`re as committed now as a couple of pigs at a slaughterhouse, so this could get ugly.  For the first time in a long time, I don`t want to finish a run and Sarah seems further behind mentally than I am.  I have quit very few races in my 16 years of running, but more than a handful of training runs have been bailed on.  This seems different, even on vacation and the day after a half-marathon (which I always take off btw).

Not only are the Raven runners supporting us, but I sense something regretful if I don`t finish today.   The sun is setting, and I start to selfishly think of myself.   ``Sarah can always run again tomorrow, and being a newbie may not care to miss out on making `the list`.   But I HAVE TO finish...so she lets me take off, as I proceed down to the water where the sand allows me to pick up the pace considerably, in my barefeet.  I am certain she`s toast, like some of the sun worshippers among us.

Pretty soon, I find my gears, and start whipping along the beach, catching up to the pack.  I am amazed at how nimble I soon feel, nothing quite like a change of scenery, on a soft surface, to dig up some long lost running inspiration.  I head back up the flat, hard, wide section of the beach, the first point of entry from the sidewalk.  There is a very large middle section, where the sunbathers, chairs and umbrellas fill in, then the hard-packed, jelly fish littered, cantered section adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean.  I have almost caught up to the group, passing Sarah once more and stopping to encourage her.   She`s doing okay, but I worry that she won`t make it before Raven finishes.  We`re almost done but she still has a ways to go.  Thankfully, Canuck has to finish his run by heading further north, so he joins her on the lonely, last section furthest north on today`s route.  (regulars are allowed to improvise their runs by running to the start, thus running back to homes and condos and still qualifying as a `run`with Raven``

I finally finish but not before passing Sarah one last time, as she heads south again for her last mile.  She`s ecstatic, which surprises me, and even refuses my water.  Ì have it! she exclaims, like she must mean the winning lottery ticket to last evenings`draw.   Or she found a 1000-year old Spanish Gold antique lying under the sand.

`My nickname`she cries, as if it was the answer to the Holy Grails resting place.  `Northen Dancer!   How appropriate I comment, you like to Salsa, grew up among horses in Kentucky and are also a Canadian.

Well how about that, we all need inspiration in many ways, shapes and forms and Sarah covered more ground today than she ever had as a `runner`.

Thank you Raven.

The World's Most Unusual and Unique Running Club

 RavenRun

Miami, Florida

How would you like to know that you can show up, every day, at the same time and place and be guaranteed someone to run with, rain or shine?  And it was FREE!

Recently I was in Miami attending the Miami Marathon, Florida's fastest growing running festival.   Peter Donato finally ticked off another running conquest, running with South Beaches legendary streaker (consecutive days running with no days off), Robert "Raven" Kraft.  Some of you may have heard of this interesting personality, who recently celebrated 100,000 miles of a running streak lasting 35 years, and counting.   I actually heard about the Raven several years ago on my first visit to the Miami Marathon, which is now a client of our company.  A friend who had been to Toronto to work the Scotia Bank Marathon Race Expo invited me to "run with the Raven", but it sounded a bit bizarre.   Not knowing this person, and fearing he was kind of a freak, I passed on the invitation.

At the Miami Marathon Race Expo on the Friday, I bumped into a fellow runner from Canada who I had seen countless times at local GTA races.  He noticed Jefferson who was with me, tied to the Girl Guides table out front, smart place to sell cookies!  He's mentioning the Raven Run and will I be joining?   He tells me his nickname is the Sexy Canadian, and I can't disagree.  Solid tan, matching and fashionable clothes, cool demeanour about this fellow.  I dismiss the offer, again, not wanting to get sucked into anything unusual (!).   But now it's exposure number four, they say it takes six or seven often to make a decision.

During my 1/2 marathon run 2 days later, at mile three as we enter South Beach, I pass a familiar looking guy on the side of the road.  Dressed in black, shirt open, scraggly and greying hair.  He's cheering on the sidelines, and at the very moment I hear a woman shout out, "hey Raven thanks for cheering" and she passes me wearing a Raven Run t-shirt.  That wasn't what bothered me....it was not being able to catch up to her to read the back!    Now we had posted an article and photo on our site years earlier, so this "Raven" person now has a face, and he even looked familiar to someone I passed at the Expo on the Friday  (although I was in Mascot drag so who knows if he saw me).....(:

So there it is again, the Raven....

Monday morning arrives, me very much stiff, sore and barely coherent, tyypical post-race enjoying a mellow breakfast overflowing with eggs, toast and unlimited coffee.   The Sexy Canadian passes our table on the sidewalk.  Sarah is seated with me, girlfriend and casual runner who just finished a 45-minute run-walk along the beach.  Alot of miles for a newbie on vacation (foreshadowing here folks).   "Hey Sexy Canadian, over here...join us".   It's always great to mingle with fellow Canucks on the road, especially colourful characters like Dave is.  We exchange the usual post-run banter, etc.  How was your race, what's your "next race"...lol

"No running for me today, in addition to running the 1/2 marathon I also biked to/from the start line, and roller-bladed over an hour at the end of the day.   Severely exhausted I am, Sarah too.  "Why don't you join me today at 4pm for the Raven Run, then tonite at the Annual Awards Banquet."...enquires the Sexy Canadian.

What???

There's a run AND an Awards Banquet?  What and who is this guy?   Curiosity finally killed this cat.

Now we have to meet him at least.  Sarah and I decide to show up, finally (exposure number seven seals the deal) but JUST to meet him, take a picture, maybe attend the dinner.   I bring my roller blades and her bike, we're going to burn off the late lunch, margaritas and Coronas.  She has run already, and my legs are trashed.   As we wander to the Lifeguard station near 5th Street we have zero interest in actually running.  Maybe tomorrow.  It's 4:15, we're late and there is no sign of the guy.  Another girl wearing a shirt approaches us wandering the sidewalk (lost),  comforts us, we're not lost afterall.  "Oh he's coming, he is usually late anyway".  

We are now on the beach, beautiful sand, water, sun, near naked bodies splayed on the sand.  Not a bad choice for a daily run, even 13,000 days consecutively.  Pretty soon people show up from all directions, all shapes and sizes, and it's a real friendly, social gathering.   Typical run club outing, for starters.  10-12...15 people.  Something's happening here. Raven shows up too.  All in black....

Sexy Canadian is here.  Groundhog.  Canuck (from Toronto as well).  Warrior (massive, strong looking guy who also ran the marathon the day prior).    Seems like everyone has an alter ego.  Sarah and I get some pictures taken, then he pops the question.  "So, are you two running with us?".

"Ah, no, not really...."

And as they say, "the rest of the story" follows on post number two.

http://ravenrun.net/