You never know, y'know?

Yesterday I put together a list of colleagues and other business connections and sent out an email. The responses started coming in almost instantly, and a couple of them surprised me.

One person whose name I had put on the list because “you never know” bounced right back with $100 and this note: “My dad died of non-Hodgkins lymphoma 15 years ago and I also admire anyone willing to take on the training and dedication to do a half marathon!”

Another coupled his C-note contribution with this message: “My sister lost her battle with acute lymphocytic leukemia in July 2008 at age 47.  I did a TNT Half in Nov. 2010 in her memory. Great cause. Thanks for doing this.”

All in all, $500 in 15 minutes. Reaching the financial target suddenly seems less impossible. HOWEVER, as I replied to one correspondent, “I guess this means I’m really going to have to do this, huh?”

Un-learning what comes naturally...

I promised a few digressions into realms other than the sweaty and sore-footed, and here’s the first, wherein PP tries to make a connection between practicing the piano and learning to run right.

Piano lovers tend to talk about the Chopin etudes like this: Well, you know, all through the 19^th century, everybody wrote etudes, and they’re mostly all dull technical drills. What sets Chopin’s apart is that they are such original, daring, beautiful MUSIC.

Trouble is, Chopin’s etudes are technical exercises, meant to teach something. If you’re trying to learn one, better be prepared for some reps. And be prepared to un-learn what seems like the most natural way of doing things.

Take the so-called “Harp” Etude, Op. 25, No. 1. About two-thirds of the way through comes a passage that sums up the technical challenges of the piece. The left hand is mostly playing an arpeggio just below middle C, but on alternate beats has to go down an octave and a half to a low B-flat or D-flat. It has to happen fast, has to be accurate, and HAS TO be played with the pinkie.

Now, no pianist really trusts his left pinkie. We tend to keep it at arm’s length. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) It’s a weak, skinny finger; it tends either to miss the target key altogether or sound it too thinly. So all of us (don’t bother denying) tend to double up the third and fourth fingers to hit these crucial low notes.

That’s inefficient, inaccurate, and just plain WRONG and ol’ Frederic ain’t letting you off the hook until you learn to do it right. That’s what makes it an etude and not just a pretty piece.

Cut to last Saturday’s run, when Coach Mark fell into stride alongside me and offered a short list of stuff I wasn’t doing wrong, exactly, but could certainly be doing more efficiently and more…correctly. Some of it meant un-learning what comes naturally.

Right now, training for the Half Marathon feels like the first few weeks with a difficult new piece of music. It may seem daunting, but then one day you’ll be playing the piece and cruising right by the passages that once gave you the willies. I hope.

Remember, visit http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/zooma11/jmckeonymw to donate.

Avoiding cliches like the plague...

First week of training and already we’ve reached one of those crisis points, moments when you just have to step up to the plate, dig down deep, man up and BLOG even if you don’t feel like it.

Even if your tank is empty, the needle is on E, and the well of clichés is running dry.

Everybody knows the line about a journey of 1,000 miles starting with a single step. Misses the point. It ain’t step one gets you. It’s step 578, when you know you’ve got 1.55 x 10⁵ steps ahead of you and turning back still looks easy.

Started the weekend Saturday morning with what Coach Mark called a “nice, easy three miles.” Pavement Pounder did his three but can tell you first hand it was neither nice nor easy. Went out Sunday as scheduled for my 20-minute “easy” run and that was OK. But then, in honor of Valentine’s Day, had a two-hour “couples yoga” session in the afternoon…which was pleasant also but left PP in a state of relaxation that was barely distinguishable from a coma.

Monday was an off day, and a good thing, too. But this morning’s run brought surprisingly stiff and achy muscles and was not, er, all that it could have been. I can tell I’m going to have to avoid serenity and inner peace if I’m going to get through this.

Also, I think I need to buy new shoes. (As you can see, my excuse-making muscles are positively BULGING.)

On the plus side, I was delighted to get my first contribution, a nice $100 from Bill Van Wagenen of CH2M HILL. And I was thrilled to see that my blog had gotten 13 views over just the last two days. Even if five of them were from my son and daughter.

But I’ll be out there for my three-miler Thursday morning like a good PP. And I’ll answer the bell Saturday for the week’s “long run.”

That’s, you know, because my back is to the wall and there’s no tomorrow.

OK, OK, my back is to the window, and tomorrow is Wednesday. But the wonderful thing about clichés is, even when they’re meaningless, everyone knows what they mean.

Once again, you can learn more at http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/zooma11/jmckeonymw, where your contributions will not only be gratefully welcomed but will help in an important effort against blood cancers.

 

So the first dog says...

Dogs talk in New Yorker cartoons.

Like the pooch a few years back who told his canine colleague, “I used to have a blog, but now I’ve gone back to random barking.”

I’ve shied away from blogging all these years out of a sense that the world had all the random barking it needed. So why am I doing it now?

Mainly, I want to write about a big project I’ve taken on: I’ve signed up to run a half marathon on June 5, for the benefit of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, as part of LLS’s National Capital Area Team in Training.

That’s 13.1 miles, in and around downtown Annapolis. I want a place to whine, brag, navel-gaze, beg for contributions and be reassured that I either (a) am or (b) am not completely out of my mind.

I ran a 10K race on Thanksgiving Day 2009 but haven’t done much since. This is more than twice the distance. What’s more, I’m pushing 60 and by the time June 5 rolls around I’ll be dragging it behind me. Now, I happen to believe that old guys seasoned men are among society’s great unappreciated treasures. Think of all we aren’t: We are not impatient. We are not hypercompetitive. We are rarely violent. We are not vain.

Okay, we’re vain.

So this is what I’ve signed up for: The race on June 5 is the ZOOMA Annapolis Half Marathon. It’s part of what’s billed as a national series of “women’s races,” although they do admit, in fine print, that men are also welcome. The average age of participants is 32, and 73 percent are women.

So I’ll be out there huffing and puffing through a crowd that’s a whole lot younger, fitter and more female than me. Let’s see where the vanity meter stands when that’s over.

But this isn’t about vanity. Nor about living forever, though as they say, so far, so good. It’s about staying in shape, meeting people, taking on something I’m not at all sure I can do, and who knows? Maybe even making a small positive difference.

I’ll be using this blog to keep anyone who’s interested up to date on how it’s going. I may mix in some other stuff: Some work, some music, some books, some family history. Maybe even a talking dog.

Hope you like it enough to come back. Meanwhile, you can learn more and contribute here.