Many of my running friends think the job I have is wonderful(which it is), but they sometimes I have an impression of how things play out that I would like to address. These are some of the myths I have encountered in my running specialty career.
1) You run all the time. Contrary to popular belief I don't run all the time. In fact I have to really plan when I can run. Working in a running store full time, means you work full time. When I can run, it's a joy.
2) You get free shoes. Well this is true, but it's not what you think. Sometimes we are given shoes to test. Sometimes we can keep them. Sometimes they want them back. My staff on average gets 2 pairs of shoes in a year. We do try to make sure when there are shoes that it goes through a process, and not some vendor rep handing over shoes. We want to be fair to everyone, and all the brands.
3) You get to run in all the races. A gentleman was upset with me a month ago, because he assumed running stores get free entries to all the races. He actually asked me if he could have one of "our entries" to the Disney World Marathon. I told him we didn't have any, and that wasn't how it works. He got pretty angry with me, and almost accused me of lying. The truth is a store may be given some entries for races they help sponsor, but that is for employees only, and it isn't a usual thing.
4) You have fun all day long. Well....it is still work. It is fun work though. We don't play all day long though.
5) Do you make the shoes? Yes you read this correctly. I am asked a couple times a year if we make the running shoes. People sometimes mistake a custom fit, for custom made. No, we don't make the shoes in a running store. Those are made in China for the most part.
6) You must love working in a running store. This is no myth. This is the truth. I do love what I do. I love working with runners of all abilities. I love talking running and living running. The good news is so do all the people in the stores.
Charlie
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Countdown to 50: Travel
I have been known to have some odd collections in my life. I have collected elephants, cows, British Royal memorabilia to name a few. My first collection was the one though which led me on adventure after adventure - travel brochures.
Yes, I was an odd child. I mean really, what kid would go from travel agency to travel agency and collect travel brochures? I did. Now there was nothing special about the brochures, other than they had pictures and descriptions of places around the world. I also read any atlas I could find, and could spend hour after hour looking at pictures of slides of travels my parents took. The brochures were a part of my lifetime love affair with travel.
As a small boy, I remember my parents and brother coming home from Europe with stories of their trip, souvenirs for me, and of course, I would get the postcards. My earliest souvenir is one I still have today; a music box of a Swiss home. I love it.
My dad would bring out the large screen and show slide after slide of the places they saw. I would ask him to slow down so he and my mom could go over every detail of what I was seeing. Mom was better at the travel description than dad.
I was geeky enough that my parents would take me to St. Mary's College for a series of travelogues. People would show pictures and talk about their travels and adventures. Talks on Mexico, Germany, Japan, or some other exotic land fascinated me.
The travel brochures would allow me to dream. I would display them on our piano. Sometimes I would play travel agent, and plan trips. Sometimes I would pretend I was going on a trip, and I just had to plan. No doubt my parents were sure I was crazy. Well...at least my dad. Mom understood.
In my youth I got to go on various trips with my parents. They took me to New York City, San Francisco, Miami, Key West, Provincetown, Los Angeles....yes, and still they wondered why I was gay. Go figure.
In high school I got to go on my first trip abroad - London. Mom had a teacher friend who was taking a class to London. I was fortunate enough to be able to go. Mom packed my suitcase, and let me tell you that was the last time she did. I got to London, unpacked my bag and was horrified. I immediately called home. I woke up mom, and told her to go into my room and tell me what was in there. A few minutes later she came back to the phone and said, "What are you doing in London without pants?" She didn't pack any of my pants. All I had was the pants on me. Because I was a strange size, I couldn't find pants that fit. I made sure I kept my pants clean all week.
Pants aside, I was in heaven. I got to see all the things I had read about. The Tower of London and the Crown Jewels, Windsor Castle, Shakespeare's home, Oxford, the West End, and Harrod's were just some of the amazing sites I saw. The highlight of the trip, I was riding on the Tube when a punk rocker with pins in his face told me he loved my hair. He told me I was punk. The kid with the freaky white streak was finally cool. I just had to wait for the right place and time.
My parents have been all over the world. They have been to every continent, but Antarctica. Each trip brought new stories, pictures, souvenirs, and more encouragement that I needed to travel. As I mentioned my mom understood my desire to see the world. She instilled in me that this is my world, and all I have to do is go see it. See it I have.
That trip to London was the first of many adventures. My big trip to Europe was 1994. My last elective in college was studying in Rome for the summer. Before I headed to campus, I traveled around the continent. I made it to Paris, the city I had dreamed about all my life. I wasn't disappointed. The Eiffel Tower was stunning. The Louvre didn't disappoint. The food was amazing, and the people were snobby, but I could throw some attitude, and I got along fine.
From Paris I stopped in Brussels. After quickly learning that there is little to do there, one to Amsterdam. Amsterdam is known for two things - the "coffee" houses and the sex trade. My best friend Marshall dared me to go to a house of boys(a bit more descrete than the women in the windows). Let's just say the name Luc has special meaning for me now. :-) From Amsterdam back to Paris, where I got to have BBQ with friends I made at the youth hostel.
In Italy I got to see all of Rome. While historically important, Rome didn't do much for me. Florence was amazing, but Venice was the place of magic. I felt I was transported into another world. Canals and princely palaces looked amazing to me. My most special moment was waking up one morning and venturing outside. The sun wasn't up yet, and I had Venice all to myself. No tourists were out, just some fishermen heading out for the day. I was in heaven.
My goal in travel has always been to see the things I wanted to see as a boy. Travel fulfills my childhood dreams and my desire to learn about the world. I have sipped wine in the wilds of Africa. I have climbed the 268 steps to reach Big Buddha in Hong Kong. I have spent the night at Mont St. Michel - the monastery surrounded by the English Channel. I have seen the amazing work of Gaudi. I have spent a New Year's Eve in a small cafe in Paris. I have traversed around Ireland. I have helped with research on coffee in Costa Rica. I have been to the Olympics. I have walked through the gardens which so inspired Monet I have zip lined at Whistler Mountain. I have dined in a drag restaurant in Barcelona. I have stood a mere inches from the Mona Lisa. I have swum in the Bahamas. I have visited over 40 states. I have met people in this world I still call my friends. I have learned from every place I have visited, and always shown appreciation to the people whose lands I saw.
My favorite places have been(in no order): Paris, Galway, Cape Town, London, Dublin, Barcelona, Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, New York, Montreal.
I was blessed to work for Southwest Airlines, which allowed me to see so much of the country and world. There is something amazing about the ability to hop on a plane and have lunch in New Orleans and then come home.
The boy who dreamed of seeing the world and collected brochures is still as curious about the world as ever. My mom was right, this IS my world, and I have every intention of seeing as much of it as I can.
Charlie
Yes, I was an odd child. I mean really, what kid would go from travel agency to travel agency and collect travel brochures? I did. Now there was nothing special about the brochures, other than they had pictures and descriptions of places around the world. I also read any atlas I could find, and could spend hour after hour looking at pictures of slides of travels my parents took. The brochures were a part of my lifetime love affair with travel.
As a small boy, I remember my parents and brother coming home from Europe with stories of their trip, souvenirs for me, and of course, I would get the postcards. My earliest souvenir is one I still have today; a music box of a Swiss home. I love it.
My dad would bring out the large screen and show slide after slide of the places they saw. I would ask him to slow down so he and my mom could go over every detail of what I was seeing. Mom was better at the travel description than dad.
I was geeky enough that my parents would take me to St. Mary's College for a series of travelogues. People would show pictures and talk about their travels and adventures. Talks on Mexico, Germany, Japan, or some other exotic land fascinated me.
The travel brochures would allow me to dream. I would display them on our piano. Sometimes I would play travel agent, and plan trips. Sometimes I would pretend I was going on a trip, and I just had to plan. No doubt my parents were sure I was crazy. Well...at least my dad. Mom understood.
In my youth I got to go on various trips with my parents. They took me to New York City, San Francisco, Miami, Key West, Provincetown, Los Angeles....yes, and still they wondered why I was gay. Go figure.
In high school I got to go on my first trip abroad - London. Mom had a teacher friend who was taking a class to London. I was fortunate enough to be able to go. Mom packed my suitcase, and let me tell you that was the last time she did. I got to London, unpacked my bag and was horrified. I immediately called home. I woke up mom, and told her to go into my room and tell me what was in there. A few minutes later she came back to the phone and said, "What are you doing in London without pants?" She didn't pack any of my pants. All I had was the pants on me. Because I was a strange size, I couldn't find pants that fit. I made sure I kept my pants clean all week.
Pants aside, I was in heaven. I got to see all the things I had read about. The Tower of London and the Crown Jewels, Windsor Castle, Shakespeare's home, Oxford, the West End, and Harrod's were just some of the amazing sites I saw. The highlight of the trip, I was riding on the Tube when a punk rocker with pins in his face told me he loved my hair. He told me I was punk. The kid with the freaky white streak was finally cool. I just had to wait for the right place and time.
My parents have been all over the world. They have been to every continent, but Antarctica. Each trip brought new stories, pictures, souvenirs, and more encouragement that I needed to travel. As I mentioned my mom understood my desire to see the world. She instilled in me that this is my world, and all I have to do is go see it. See it I have.
That trip to London was the first of many adventures. My big trip to Europe was 1994. My last elective in college was studying in Rome for the summer. Before I headed to campus, I traveled around the continent. I made it to Paris, the city I had dreamed about all my life. I wasn't disappointed. The Eiffel Tower was stunning. The Louvre didn't disappoint. The food was amazing, and the people were snobby, but I could throw some attitude, and I got along fine.
From Paris I stopped in Brussels. After quickly learning that there is little to do there, one to Amsterdam. Amsterdam is known for two things - the "coffee" houses and the sex trade. My best friend Marshall dared me to go to a house of boys(a bit more descrete than the women in the windows). Let's just say the name Luc has special meaning for me now. :-) From Amsterdam back to Paris, where I got to have BBQ with friends I made at the youth hostel.
In Italy I got to see all of Rome. While historically important, Rome didn't do much for me. Florence was amazing, but Venice was the place of magic. I felt I was transported into another world. Canals and princely palaces looked amazing to me. My most special moment was waking up one morning and venturing outside. The sun wasn't up yet, and I had Venice all to myself. No tourists were out, just some fishermen heading out for the day. I was in heaven.
My goal in travel has always been to see the things I wanted to see as a boy. Travel fulfills my childhood dreams and my desire to learn about the world. I have sipped wine in the wilds of Africa. I have climbed the 268 steps to reach Big Buddha in Hong Kong. I have spent the night at Mont St. Michel - the monastery surrounded by the English Channel. I have seen the amazing work of Gaudi. I have spent a New Year's Eve in a small cafe in Paris. I have traversed around Ireland. I have helped with research on coffee in Costa Rica. I have been to the Olympics. I have walked through the gardens which so inspired Monet I have zip lined at Whistler Mountain. I have dined in a drag restaurant in Barcelona. I have stood a mere inches from the Mona Lisa. I have swum in the Bahamas. I have visited over 40 states. I have met people in this world I still call my friends. I have learned from every place I have visited, and always shown appreciation to the people whose lands I saw.
My favorite places have been(in no order): Paris, Galway, Cape Town, London, Dublin, Barcelona, Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, New York, Montreal.
I was blessed to work for Southwest Airlines, which allowed me to see so much of the country and world. There is something amazing about the ability to hop on a plane and have lunch in New Orleans and then come home.
The boy who dreamed of seeing the world and collected brochures is still as curious about the world as ever. My mom was right, this IS my world, and I have every intention of seeing as much of it as I can.
Charlie
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Last Training Run
Well not for me.....today was the last training run for the runners I have been working with since June. I ran with the group this morning, which consisted of three ladies and me. It was a 45 minute run, not long at all. Of course the ladies went ahead of me, and I did my routine run.
I have only run a couple times this week. Work and Mark's schedule have made finding time to run a problem. I'm not upset about it though. I'm happy with my running. Feeling good. I'll take that at this point.
Today though was about the training group. The only thing that bothers me is how few people have come out on Saturday's to run. 80 people were registered for the program. For the first month and a half we averaged 20-25 people each week. As races have come and gone, that has whittled down. So I feel a bit bad that most people have gone, but the three I have run with have come almost every week, and they are a blast!
So now I focus more on my running this week. The Monumental Half Marathon looms next weekend.
Charlie
I have only run a couple times this week. Work and Mark's schedule have made finding time to run a problem. I'm not upset about it though. I'm happy with my running. Feeling good. I'll take that at this point.
Today though was about the training group. The only thing that bothers me is how few people have come out on Saturday's to run. 80 people were registered for the program. For the first month and a half we averaged 20-25 people each week. As races have come and gone, that has whittled down. So I feel a bit bad that most people have gone, but the three I have run with have come almost every week, and they are a blast!
So now I focus more on my running this week. The Monumental Half Marathon looms next weekend.
Charlie
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Not in the Right Mind
Yesterday was not one of my better runs. I wasn't in a good frame of mind. You'd think the run would have helped but it didn't. I think we all have runs like that. Still I managed a 2.52 mile run.
Running with crap in your head is one of the hardest runs there is. You want to block out the crap, but sometimes you can't. The good news is....the next one can always be better. Shooting for a better run tomorrow.
Charlie
Running with crap in your head is one of the hardest runs there is. You want to block out the crap, but sometimes you can't. The good news is....the next one can always be better. Shooting for a better run tomorrow.
Charlie
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Getting to be Coach
Back to a running theme.....
In a couple weeks I will be running the Monumental Half Marathon, but I am also a coach for the race. This morning four of my runners headed out for a short 60-70 minute run. The long training is coming to end for a good many area runners. Today was the Indianapolis Half and Full Marathon. I had runners out there today as well. At the start of the training program, we had about 80 runners. No....it isn't down to 4, but that is who showed up today.
Today I talked about the taper, and the importance of having faith in the program. A training program brings you to a certain point, and then you have to believe it did what is was supposed to do. Whether you are training for a time, or simply to finish, you have to know that the plan you used was designed to help you. You have no control over the weather on race day, or what other may do around you. You have to know what your plan is, and remember to improvise if you need to.
All 4 runners understood what I told them, headed out, and each of them came back telling me how good they felt. Now they taper.
In the meantime I have a longish run this week, just I can make sure I am doing well with my training.
It's good to be da coach.
Charlie
In a couple weeks I will be running the Monumental Half Marathon, but I am also a coach for the race. This morning four of my runners headed out for a short 60-70 minute run. The long training is coming to end for a good many area runners. Today was the Indianapolis Half and Full Marathon. I had runners out there today as well. At the start of the training program, we had about 80 runners. No....it isn't down to 4, but that is who showed up today.
Today I talked about the taper, and the importance of having faith in the program. A training program brings you to a certain point, and then you have to believe it did what is was supposed to do. Whether you are training for a time, or simply to finish, you have to know that the plan you used was designed to help you. You have no control over the weather on race day, or what other may do around you. You have to know what your plan is, and remember to improvise if you need to.
All 4 runners understood what I told them, headed out, and each of them came back telling me how good they felt. Now they taper.
In the meantime I have a longish run this week, just I can make sure I am doing well with my training.
It's good to be da coach.
Charlie
Friday, October 19, 2012
Countdown to 50: The 1980s Part 2
In my last post, I wrote an account of the rape I endured in 1984. I mentioned that things would get better. Sometimes in order for things to get better, we have to go further down, and hit rock bottom. The downward spiral got worse the following year.
After a series of anonymous sex episodes, I went to get an HIV test. I, like so many of us back then, thought HIV/AIDS happened far away. It didn't happen in Indiana. Still being the good gay, I went to get tested to confirm, I too was negative. I wasn't. The test turned out to be positive. With a positive test, you took a follow-up test to see if it is a false positive result. Waiting for the second test was the longest two weeks ever.
The nurse told me I was positive. In 1985, there weren't the support groups, services, or anything which helped those who tested positive. There was AZT, the drug which waited for a disease. It was toxic, and the drug did more harm to the body than anything you could imagine. I refused to take it.
At this point I told my mother about the rape and the HIV status. She told me it just wasn't true. Denial is a pretty powerful thing. She told me she loved me, but I could see the pain she went through. I had not told her I was gay yet, and somehow 2+2 did not = 4 for her yet. I got booted from school. The depression was pretty bad and class wasn't something I wanted to really go to.
In a period of darkness, I found a lot of joy working at Bradford Woods in the summers of 1985 and 1986. I was a counselor for kids with special needs. I loved those kids, and they loved me. I thought when I went back to school I might go for a degree in Special Education. At this time I also worked at the Indiana Repertory Theatre. I worked in the box office and enjoyed it, but I wanted to get back to school. I headed back to Indiana University.
1987-1988 would be the turning point. I had lived for two years with no symptoms of HIV, and I took another test. I was negative. I test again, I was negative. I test a third time, I was negative. Every test since then has been negative. What should have been a joyous moment wasn't. For two years I was depressed and ready to die. Now in my mind I was being cheated out that.
Some circumstances with a guy I had a crush on lead me to a fateful night in April, 1988, where I spent a late night downing about 200 sleeping pills and a gallon of wine. Welcome to rock bottom friends. This was where I found myself. Rock bottom was pathetic me, crying, trying to kill myself, when all of a sudden I drop a couple of the pills. My dachshund, Fred came out to the patio where I was, and was sniffing at the pills. In my panic to make sure he didn't take a pill, it was the moment I realized what I was doing, and how I didn't want to die. Call it coincidence, call it divine intervention, Fred coming out to investigate the pills was my wake up call. I called friends who came to take me to the ER. Of course they chewed me out the entire way there.
The ER was a series of horrors, funny moments, and being in and out of consciousness. I kept thinking how funny it was that people kept asking me what I was there for that night, when I kept saying, "Do none of you talk to each other? I've told every nurse I tried to kill myself and now I want to live."
I took some medicine, and under threat of stomach pumping, I began to throw up. It wasn't pretty. The psychiatrist on duty advised me I could stay the night in the psychiatric ward, but he couldn't guarantee my safety. I opted to go home. I was given liquid charcoal, and told not to throw that up. When I got home, I threw up in the toilet, and spent the rest of the night crying and cleaning the toilet.
The next day I packed up the car, got the dog, and we went to my family's cottage on Lake Michigan. I wanted to be alone and think things through. I called my mom, who told me what I had done was silly and never to do it again. Thanks mom! The few days at the cottage were important to me. I realized I was not a healthy gay man. I didn't know gay people. I wasn't making friends, and I needed a new direction in life. It came.
Fall of 1988 I was encouraged by my friend Jeff to go to a meeting of OUT. IU's gay and lesbian student group. I walked in, didn't know a soul, and just stood around. After a while, I was approached by a man I knew at first sight. It was the man who raped me. He came up to me, told me I was cute, and I looked familiar. Had we met before?
I looked him in the eyes, and told him no. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Here was the man who had made my life a living HELL 4 years earlier, and now he is hitting on me, and didn't know what he did to me. I ran out of the room, and headed to the library to see Jeff.
I told him what happened, and that I never wanted to go back to OUT. He told me I had to, or that man would have power over me forever. I did go back. Three meetings later I was elected OUT's first president.
My life would be changed forever with this. My fellow officers and friends Chad B, Nora, Heather Jeff, Joe, Grant, Chad F and I started something pretty special for the LGBT community at Indiana University. Some of the things we accomplished during my time with OUT and with the student government:
Working with the university to include sexual orientation in its anti-discriminatory policies
Created Gay Pride Week
Brought the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt to the state of Indiana for the first time
Created Miss Gay IU
Laid the foundation for works towards a gay and lesbian support center on campus
While those were wonderful things, they served a larger purpose. LGBT people needed to be part of the overall community. Awareness of who we are was the start. IU has never looked back since then. LGBT students may not know this now, but almost everything they have on campus started with that group back in 1988.
My rape, depression and HIV status taught me how we need to have a voice and be strong. We are everywhere. Living in the closet and being afraid is never going to help you. I was an activist. I came out to my parents, and while there were issues there, I felt free. The truth does set you free.
I had been to Hell and now I was back. When I look back at everything before 1988, I see a pretty sad person, who could not come to grips with who he was. I came out of the 1980s a strong person, fighting for justice, being more assured of my life, and never willing to EVER go back to the person I had been.
If you do go through hard and difficult times, know there are people in this world who love and support you. I owe a lot to wonderful people like Kris, Lisa, Jan, Jen, Marshall, Jeff, Joe, Laura, Ted, Tina, and so many others. I don't want anyone upset if I didn't mention them, but my friends were my rock.
The happy ending is I found what I was made of, and I was much stronger than I could have imagined. When things feel bad, or go downhill these days, I remember what it was like, and I know I am not close to that, nor will I ever be at rock bottom.
Be strong my friends. Be true to yourself. Be proud of yourself.
Charlie
After a series of anonymous sex episodes, I went to get an HIV test. I, like so many of us back then, thought HIV/AIDS happened far away. It didn't happen in Indiana. Still being the good gay, I went to get tested to confirm, I too was negative. I wasn't. The test turned out to be positive. With a positive test, you took a follow-up test to see if it is a false positive result. Waiting for the second test was the longest two weeks ever.
The nurse told me I was positive. In 1985, there weren't the support groups, services, or anything which helped those who tested positive. There was AZT, the drug which waited for a disease. It was toxic, and the drug did more harm to the body than anything you could imagine. I refused to take it.
At this point I told my mother about the rape and the HIV status. She told me it just wasn't true. Denial is a pretty powerful thing. She told me she loved me, but I could see the pain she went through. I had not told her I was gay yet, and somehow 2+2 did not = 4 for her yet. I got booted from school. The depression was pretty bad and class wasn't something I wanted to really go to.
In a period of darkness, I found a lot of joy working at Bradford Woods in the summers of 1985 and 1986. I was a counselor for kids with special needs. I loved those kids, and they loved me. I thought when I went back to school I might go for a degree in Special Education. At this time I also worked at the Indiana Repertory Theatre. I worked in the box office and enjoyed it, but I wanted to get back to school. I headed back to Indiana University.
1987-1988 would be the turning point. I had lived for two years with no symptoms of HIV, and I took another test. I was negative. I test again, I was negative. I test a third time, I was negative. Every test since then has been negative. What should have been a joyous moment wasn't. For two years I was depressed and ready to die. Now in my mind I was being cheated out that.
Some circumstances with a guy I had a crush on lead me to a fateful night in April, 1988, where I spent a late night downing about 200 sleeping pills and a gallon of wine. Welcome to rock bottom friends. This was where I found myself. Rock bottom was pathetic me, crying, trying to kill myself, when all of a sudden I drop a couple of the pills. My dachshund, Fred came out to the patio where I was, and was sniffing at the pills. In my panic to make sure he didn't take a pill, it was the moment I realized what I was doing, and how I didn't want to die. Call it coincidence, call it divine intervention, Fred coming out to investigate the pills was my wake up call. I called friends who came to take me to the ER. Of course they chewed me out the entire way there.
The ER was a series of horrors, funny moments, and being in and out of consciousness. I kept thinking how funny it was that people kept asking me what I was there for that night, when I kept saying, "Do none of you talk to each other? I've told every nurse I tried to kill myself and now I want to live."
I took some medicine, and under threat of stomach pumping, I began to throw up. It wasn't pretty. The psychiatrist on duty advised me I could stay the night in the psychiatric ward, but he couldn't guarantee my safety. I opted to go home. I was given liquid charcoal, and told not to throw that up. When I got home, I threw up in the toilet, and spent the rest of the night crying and cleaning the toilet.
The next day I packed up the car, got the dog, and we went to my family's cottage on Lake Michigan. I wanted to be alone and think things through. I called my mom, who told me what I had done was silly and never to do it again. Thanks mom! The few days at the cottage were important to me. I realized I was not a healthy gay man. I didn't know gay people. I wasn't making friends, and I needed a new direction in life. It came.
Fall of 1988 I was encouraged by my friend Jeff to go to a meeting of OUT. IU's gay and lesbian student group. I walked in, didn't know a soul, and just stood around. After a while, I was approached by a man I knew at first sight. It was the man who raped me. He came up to me, told me I was cute, and I looked familiar. Had we met before?
I looked him in the eyes, and told him no. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Here was the man who had made my life a living HELL 4 years earlier, and now he is hitting on me, and didn't know what he did to me. I ran out of the room, and headed to the library to see Jeff.
I told him what happened, and that I never wanted to go back to OUT. He told me I had to, or that man would have power over me forever. I did go back. Three meetings later I was elected OUT's first president.
My life would be changed forever with this. My fellow officers and friends Chad B, Nora, Heather Jeff, Joe, Grant, Chad F and I started something pretty special for the LGBT community at Indiana University. Some of the things we accomplished during my time with OUT and with the student government:
Working with the university to include sexual orientation in its anti-discriminatory policies
Created Gay Pride Week
Brought the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt to the state of Indiana for the first time
Created Miss Gay IU
Laid the foundation for works towards a gay and lesbian support center on campus
While those were wonderful things, they served a larger purpose. LGBT people needed to be part of the overall community. Awareness of who we are was the start. IU has never looked back since then. LGBT students may not know this now, but almost everything they have on campus started with that group back in 1988.
My rape, depression and HIV status taught me how we need to have a voice and be strong. We are everywhere. Living in the closet and being afraid is never going to help you. I was an activist. I came out to my parents, and while there were issues there, I felt free. The truth does set you free.
I had been to Hell and now I was back. When I look back at everything before 1988, I see a pretty sad person, who could not come to grips with who he was. I came out of the 1980s a strong person, fighting for justice, being more assured of my life, and never willing to EVER go back to the person I had been.
If you do go through hard and difficult times, know there are people in this world who love and support you. I owe a lot to wonderful people like Kris, Lisa, Jan, Jen, Marshall, Jeff, Joe, Laura, Ted, Tina, and so many others. I don't want anyone upset if I didn't mention them, but my friends were my rock.
The happy ending is I found what I was made of, and I was much stronger than I could have imagined. When things feel bad, or go downhill these days, I remember what it was like, and I know I am not close to that, nor will I ever be at rock bottom.
Be strong my friends. Be true to yourself. Be proud of yourself.
Charlie
Countdown to 50: The 1980s Part 1
We all have defining moments in our lives. Some are joyous. Some are tragic. Lord knows I've had my share of both. The moments though define and shape us based on how we proceed from them, or what we learned from them. What I'm about to describe is not pleasant, but I promise it ends well.
It was the summer of 1984. I was in summer school at Indiana University. I had been out for only a short time, so I knew next to nothing about being gay. What I did know was that I was lonely, and I wanted sex. I mean really, here I was 22, and I still hadn't had sex? Yikes!
Being gay then was not what it is like now. The closet for many had a big thick door. Pride parades were something you heard happened in New York or San Francisco. Bloomington, IN was known as the San Francisco of Indiana. Trust me - it is.
My only exposure to the gay life thus far was through someone I vaguely knew who took me to an Integrity "meeting." Integrity is a gay group of Episcopalians. I was scared walking in, as I knew no one(though I did encounter a guy I went to high school with later on in the evening - he ignored me). Sadly, the only other way to meet gay men was through anonymous sex.
There were spots on campus where you could hook up and have sex there, are head to someone's place for sex. I stumbled upon a cruising spot at the Union. It fascinated me, because I would see so many men always head to the same restroom. There was a lot of hooking up going on.
One day I took the leap and followed a guy to the rest room. He seemed like a nice guy. He seemed to like me, and really at that point, that was all that mattered. He invited me back to his place. My heart was beating faster than ever as we made our way to his place. All that excitement would soon vanish though once we got to his apartment.
When we got to his place, he changed. He was no longer this nice guy. Now he was creepy, rough, and he pulled out a knife. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was 30-40 minutes, I was raped. The knife was always present, and he kept tell me I had to do what he wanted if I wanted to leave. When it was over, he asked me how I liked "doing it" under a picture of Jesus.
My thoughts during this were to be calm, cooperate, and I could leave soon. I didn't want to die.
He talked about how the "next time" we would record it if that was ok with me. I told him whatever he wanted to hear if it meant I could leave. He told me I would have to stay in the apartment with him forever. Now I was really scared. Somehow, somewhere I got an idea. I said, "You know I have to meet some folks at the library to study in an hour, I really should go." He made me promise to "come back" after studying. I told him I would, and he let me leave.
I ran out of that building, tears forming, my hands shaking, my mind racing. I made it back to my dorm room, and cried for about an hour on my bed. Most people would have called the police. Most gay men who aren't out wouldn't. This would mean coming out. I never called the police. Instead I called the Episcopal priest from the meeting I went to. Wrong move.
When I got hold of him, he told me he was on his way to a party and couldn't talk. I explained what happened. Again, he told me about the party, but could I meet him the next day. I agreed. I spent the rest of the night on my bed crying.
During my meeting with him, he advised me not to go to the police. He told me I did nothing wrong, that this has happened to gay men before. I think he told me how sorry he was, but I never got a sense he truly was sorry. I was alone.
From this experience, I made many bad choices in my life. I drank more. I had more anonymous sex. I was a mess. Just when you think it couldn't get worse. It did.
In my next post I will talk about what happened next, and I promise things will look better.
Charlie
It was the summer of 1984. I was in summer school at Indiana University. I had been out for only a short time, so I knew next to nothing about being gay. What I did know was that I was lonely, and I wanted sex. I mean really, here I was 22, and I still hadn't had sex? Yikes!
Being gay then was not what it is like now. The closet for many had a big thick door. Pride parades were something you heard happened in New York or San Francisco. Bloomington, IN was known as the San Francisco of Indiana. Trust me - it is.
My only exposure to the gay life thus far was through someone I vaguely knew who took me to an Integrity "meeting." Integrity is a gay group of Episcopalians. I was scared walking in, as I knew no one(though I did encounter a guy I went to high school with later on in the evening - he ignored me). Sadly, the only other way to meet gay men was through anonymous sex.
There were spots on campus where you could hook up and have sex there, are head to someone's place for sex. I stumbled upon a cruising spot at the Union. It fascinated me, because I would see so many men always head to the same restroom. There was a lot of hooking up going on.
One day I took the leap and followed a guy to the rest room. He seemed like a nice guy. He seemed to like me, and really at that point, that was all that mattered. He invited me back to his place. My heart was beating faster than ever as we made our way to his place. All that excitement would soon vanish though once we got to his apartment.
When we got to his place, he changed. He was no longer this nice guy. Now he was creepy, rough, and he pulled out a knife. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was 30-40 minutes, I was raped. The knife was always present, and he kept tell me I had to do what he wanted if I wanted to leave. When it was over, he asked me how I liked "doing it" under a picture of Jesus.
My thoughts during this were to be calm, cooperate, and I could leave soon. I didn't want to die.
He talked about how the "next time" we would record it if that was ok with me. I told him whatever he wanted to hear if it meant I could leave. He told me I would have to stay in the apartment with him forever. Now I was really scared. Somehow, somewhere I got an idea. I said, "You know I have to meet some folks at the library to study in an hour, I really should go." He made me promise to "come back" after studying. I told him I would, and he let me leave.
I ran out of that building, tears forming, my hands shaking, my mind racing. I made it back to my dorm room, and cried for about an hour on my bed. Most people would have called the police. Most gay men who aren't out wouldn't. This would mean coming out. I never called the police. Instead I called the Episcopal priest from the meeting I went to. Wrong move.
When I got hold of him, he told me he was on his way to a party and couldn't talk. I explained what happened. Again, he told me about the party, but could I meet him the next day. I agreed. I spent the rest of the night on my bed crying.
During my meeting with him, he advised me not to go to the police. He told me I did nothing wrong, that this has happened to gay men before. I think he told me how sorry he was, but I never got a sense he truly was sorry. I was alone.
From this experience, I made many bad choices in my life. I drank more. I had more anonymous sex. I was a mess. Just when you think it couldn't get worse. It did.
In my next post I will talk about what happened next, and I promise things will look better.
Charlie
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The 5K Update
I am 25 days away from turning 50, and the Charlie's Turning 50 5K is still going to happen. I have not had great fundraising success. I will admit, I have not poured enough of myself into it. Work has gotten in the way - darn work. Some other things have changed. I will be running in Wisconsin, not New Orleans. I had thought we would be in the French Quarter for #50, but in the end, I wanted to be near family. I have had an emotional year, and I want to be around family. I have a bazillion cousins in Wisconsin, well maybe not that many. Trust me though, it's a clan. My cousin John, his lovely wife Ruth, and their family are incredible and I love them so much. My sister Anne and niece Sabrina will be with us, as will Mark, and Friday!! I am thrilled to be starting the next chapter of my life with all of them.
I still hope people will donate and run or walk with me. Marathon Kids does such a terrific job helping kids discover a healthy lifestyle. I wish there had been programs like that when I was young. My friend, and founder of Marathon Kids, Kay Morris is recovering from a stroke. I would like to dedicate my efforts to her, as she is a shining example of what people can do when they put their minds to it.
You can donate at http://www.crowdrise.com/CharliesTurning50
Please give and run with me.
Charlie
I still hope people will donate and run or walk with me. Marathon Kids does such a terrific job helping kids discover a healthy lifestyle. I wish there had been programs like that when I was young. My friend, and founder of Marathon Kids, Kay Morris is recovering from a stroke. I would like to dedicate my efforts to her, as she is a shining example of what people can do when they put their minds to it.
You can donate at http://www.crowdrise.com/CharliesTurning50
Please give and run with me.
Charlie
Monday, October 15, 2012
Back to Running
A week after the half marathon I hit the trail today running. Also battling the end of a cold, I pushed ahead and ran 3.6 miles today. It felt good to be out in the Fall weather running.
Leaves were on the ground aplenty as I ran of what seemed like a long, long trail of them. I loved it. Today's run wasn't about a time, or about an effort. This was just to get back out and run as I get ready for the Monumental Half Marathon in a few weeks. My pace 14:16 and it was all good.
Lots of folks on the Monon, mostly bike riders. I noticed none of them said, "On the left." Minor issue.
Thoughts on the run were about my life in Indy, and what I what to accomplish. Sorry, no major decisions today. I do feel like things are coming together in my head though.
Good run....looking forward to the next one.
Charlie
Leaves were on the ground aplenty as I ran of what seemed like a long, long trail of them. I loved it. Today's run wasn't about a time, or about an effort. This was just to get back out and run as I get ready for the Monumental Half Marathon in a few weeks. My pace 14:16 and it was all good.
Lots of folks on the Monon, mostly bike riders. I noticed none of them said, "On the left." Minor issue.
Thoughts on the run were about my life in Indy, and what I what to accomplish. Sorry, no major decisions today. I do feel like things are coming together in my head though.
Good run....looking forward to the next one.
Charlie
Friday, October 12, 2012
Countdown to 50: The Actor
I am one month away from turning 50, or as someone so gently told me today - half a century. As I head into the final days in my 40s, I will do some reflecting on my life to this point. Some will have to do with running. Some won't. Regardless, it should be an interesting countdown.
As some of you may know, I wanted to be an actor when I grew up. When I saw my first Academy Awards, I knew what I wanted to do. It consumed me.
We had a large basement in the house I lived in as a boy. The main room was my stage. We had a large oval rug, which was the stage. We had a large stereo system. For you kids in the audience, we listened to something called records. My first records were old 78s my mom let me listen to. I listened to the scratchy music of the musical "Oklahoma." My first LP was the original cast recording of "My Fair Lady." Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews taught me that the rain in Spain, stays mainly on the plain. The most intense album I ever listened to Broadway wise was "A Chorus Line." The masterpiece musical about the life of performers trying to get in a show.
Our basement was filled with "The Sound of Music," as I sang and danced and performed. I had patient parents. Very rarely was I told to keep it down. I would get my sister Anne to be part of some of my "shows." She was a good sport. My dad even built me a puppet stage, so yes, I could do my own version of "The Lonely Goat Herd."
In middle school I was in drama and music. Not too many people know this, but in drama class we had to develop a play, and performed for elementary kids. I think we had a fairy android in it, a dragon, and some dancing. This was also an early performance by future actor Dean Norris of AMC's Breaking Bad. I don't think he was the fairy android though.
In music, I performed with the Mini Singers. It was kind of a pre-swing or show choir for the middle school set. We did musicals as well. I seem to remember a fun time doing Gilbert and Sullivan's H.M.S. Pinafore. I was sailor #3 I think. :-)
High school was more devoted to the my singing. I was in Swing Choir. We performed all over the city. We always opened with the "Getting to Know You" from "The King and I." We would enter the room or performance hall from all sides, shaking hands with the audience, making our way to the stage. Guys would be dressed in powder blue tux-like jackets with ruffles and clip on bow ties. The girls wore SHORT dresses and white gloves. I loved the performances and the friends I made. Of course it was embarrassing when my mom made some of my Swing Choir friends and me perform for her friends("Oh MOM!!!")
I was in two musicals in high school, "Oklahoma" and "Plain and Fancy"(yeah I never heard of it either). In "Oklahoma" I played Ado Annie's Pa. My big number was "The Farmer and the Cowman." I loved the part, mostly because I got to say, "Who the HELL are you!"
Towards the end of high school, I got to go to the North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston-Salem, NC. If you have seen the film "Fame" you will have an inkling what my summers at NCSA were like. Yes there were classes ranging from fencing to tap dance to mask making to acting. There were also improv performances in the cafeteria, dances, and making some of the best friends I ever had. It was my last summer at NCSA when I came out. I kissed my first boy and thought, "WOW this is me." One of my oldest friends, Chris Runge, was the person I first told about my being gay. He was a great friend then, he is a great friend now. I love him so much.
Sadly, I was not accepted into NCSA for college. The critique of my audition was brutal. I was devastated for years, and I didn't act. I tried theatre in college, but I was too hurt by the rejection. Hindsight shows, that rejection is part of acting. If you can't take it, you shouldn't be in it.
Flash to the late 1990s. After my mother died, I thought a lot about regrets in life. I thought about my old dreams of acting. I decided I owed that dream one more try. I enrolled in classes at Second City in Chicago. Second City is an improv theatre which gave us the likes of John Bellushi, Gilda Radnor, Bill Murray, and most anyone who was funny in the mid to late 20th century.
I loved the classes. I worked hard, even though the classes were just for fun. One night, I was part of a midnight show on the stage at Second City. I developed an skit with a friend, and we performed it for the crowd. It was a take suggestions from the audience skit. It worked. I made people laugh. It was at that moment, I felt I accomplished what I wanted to. I had been on stage. I entertained people, and I made some folks laugh. I didn't need to do anything more.
I understand now I won't win my Oscar by the time I'm 50. What I did have in my life though, was a love and appreciation of the theatre. I made some wonderful friends, and I had some incredible experiences.
I am thankful to my parents for allowing me to explore my creativity. I am so glad they took me to Chicago to see plays and musicals. I still think a highlight was to go to Chicago and see the great Katherine Hepburn in "The West Side Waltz." Horrible play, but wow she was amazing.
I am thankful for the people who taught me Shakespeare, Ibsen, Sondheim, Rogers and Hammerstein, Moliere, Brecht, Simon(Neil and Mel), and so many great playwrights and composers. I may not have become an actor, but I became a more rounded person.
Charlie
As some of you may know, I wanted to be an actor when I grew up. When I saw my first Academy Awards, I knew what I wanted to do. It consumed me.
We had a large basement in the house I lived in as a boy. The main room was my stage. We had a large oval rug, which was the stage. We had a large stereo system. For you kids in the audience, we listened to something called records. My first records were old 78s my mom let me listen to. I listened to the scratchy music of the musical "Oklahoma." My first LP was the original cast recording of "My Fair Lady." Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews taught me that the rain in Spain, stays mainly on the plain. The most intense album I ever listened to Broadway wise was "A Chorus Line." The masterpiece musical about the life of performers trying to get in a show.
Our basement was filled with "The Sound of Music," as I sang and danced and performed. I had patient parents. Very rarely was I told to keep it down. I would get my sister Anne to be part of some of my "shows." She was a good sport. My dad even built me a puppet stage, so yes, I could do my own version of "The Lonely Goat Herd."
In middle school I was in drama and music. Not too many people know this, but in drama class we had to develop a play, and performed for elementary kids. I think we had a fairy android in it, a dragon, and some dancing. This was also an early performance by future actor Dean Norris of AMC's Breaking Bad. I don't think he was the fairy android though.
In music, I performed with the Mini Singers. It was kind of a pre-swing or show choir for the middle school set. We did musicals as well. I seem to remember a fun time doing Gilbert and Sullivan's H.M.S. Pinafore. I was sailor #3 I think. :-)
High school was more devoted to the my singing. I was in Swing Choir. We performed all over the city. We always opened with the "Getting to Know You" from "The King and I." We would enter the room or performance hall from all sides, shaking hands with the audience, making our way to the stage. Guys would be dressed in powder blue tux-like jackets with ruffles and clip on bow ties. The girls wore SHORT dresses and white gloves. I loved the performances and the friends I made. Of course it was embarrassing when my mom made some of my Swing Choir friends and me perform for her friends("Oh MOM!!!")
I was in two musicals in high school, "Oklahoma" and "Plain and Fancy"(yeah I never heard of it either). In "Oklahoma" I played Ado Annie's Pa. My big number was "The Farmer and the Cowman." I loved the part, mostly because I got to say, "Who the HELL are you!"
Towards the end of high school, I got to go to the North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston-Salem, NC. If you have seen the film "Fame" you will have an inkling what my summers at NCSA were like. Yes there were classes ranging from fencing to tap dance to mask making to acting. There were also improv performances in the cafeteria, dances, and making some of the best friends I ever had. It was my last summer at NCSA when I came out. I kissed my first boy and thought, "WOW this is me." One of my oldest friends, Chris Runge, was the person I first told about my being gay. He was a great friend then, he is a great friend now. I love him so much.
Sadly, I was not accepted into NCSA for college. The critique of my audition was brutal. I was devastated for years, and I didn't act. I tried theatre in college, but I was too hurt by the rejection. Hindsight shows, that rejection is part of acting. If you can't take it, you shouldn't be in it.
Flash to the late 1990s. After my mother died, I thought a lot about regrets in life. I thought about my old dreams of acting. I decided I owed that dream one more try. I enrolled in classes at Second City in Chicago. Second City is an improv theatre which gave us the likes of John Bellushi, Gilda Radnor, Bill Murray, and most anyone who was funny in the mid to late 20th century.
I loved the classes. I worked hard, even though the classes were just for fun. One night, I was part of a midnight show on the stage at Second City. I developed an skit with a friend, and we performed it for the crowd. It was a take suggestions from the audience skit. It worked. I made people laugh. It was at that moment, I felt I accomplished what I wanted to. I had been on stage. I entertained people, and I made some folks laugh. I didn't need to do anything more.
I understand now I won't win my Oscar by the time I'm 50. What I did have in my life though, was a love and appreciation of the theatre. I made some wonderful friends, and I had some incredible experiences.
I am thankful to my parents for allowing me to explore my creativity. I am so glad they took me to Chicago to see plays and musicals. I still think a highlight was to go to Chicago and see the great Katherine Hepburn in "The West Side Waltz." Horrible play, but wow she was amazing.
I am thankful for the people who taught me Shakespeare, Ibsen, Sondheim, Rogers and Hammerstein, Moliere, Brecht, Simon(Neil and Mel), and so many great playwrights and composers. I may not have become an actor, but I became a more rounded person.
Charlie
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Reviewing the Training
Following a race, I think it's a good idea to review the training you did for it; figure out what worked, and what didn't. You can take a lot of good things out of a race, and maybe realize some not so good things you did.
My training plan worked well for the first 8 miles. It was mostly flat, and I was either ahead or on pace for what I wanted to achieve. If only a half marathon were 8 miles...hehehe. I was well hydrated. I have NUUN with me in a bottle, which ran out at mile 10. In cooler weather I don't down as much drink., but I made sure to preserve the NUUN by taking water along the way. I focused on me. I came to the realization in Chicago that I pay too much attention to the people around me in a race. In a way you need to pay attention for safety reasons, but I was watching them run, making people who passed me targets. That is a distraction. This time I had the iPod on, and focused on me for the most part.
What didn't work? The hills. Very few 128 ft inclines in my neck of the woods for me to train on. While I am proud that I kept the hill walking around a 17:00/pace, I just was not prepared for the downhill portion, and that is where a lot of pain crept in. For a marathon, I need to work more on strength. The tough part is we don't belong to a gym right now, so it isn't easy to go that kind of training. The good news is hills are not a part of the next two races.
Right now I am sick - bad throat, congestion, etc. I am going to heal, and then start running next week, continuing my training plan. Monumental is a few weeks away.
Charlie
My training plan worked well for the first 8 miles. It was mostly flat, and I was either ahead or on pace for what I wanted to achieve. If only a half marathon were 8 miles...hehehe. I was well hydrated. I have NUUN with me in a bottle, which ran out at mile 10. In cooler weather I don't down as much drink., but I made sure to preserve the NUUN by taking water along the way. I focused on me. I came to the realization in Chicago that I pay too much attention to the people around me in a race. In a way you need to pay attention for safety reasons, but I was watching them run, making people who passed me targets. That is a distraction. This time I had the iPod on, and focused on me for the most part.
What didn't work? The hills. Very few 128 ft inclines in my neck of the woods for me to train on. While I am proud that I kept the hill walking around a 17:00/pace, I just was not prepared for the downhill portion, and that is where a lot of pain crept in. For a marathon, I need to work more on strength. The tough part is we don't belong to a gym right now, so it isn't easy to go that kind of training. The good news is hills are not a part of the next two races.
Right now I am sick - bad throat, congestion, etc. I am going to heal, and then start running next week, continuing my training plan. Monumental is a few weeks away.
Charlie
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Recovering
Yesterday was a rough day. Walking for me after a physically demanding race is like watching Frankenstein learning how to walk - it is not pretty. I spent most of the day on the couch. Mark and I did go to the grocery. Thank God for shopping carts. I at least had a walker of sorts.
At this point the pain is mostly in my ankles and feet. The hips, quads and hamstrings are better. I no longer feel like I will cramp. This is the price I pay sometimes.
Arthritis is a hard thing at times. It means I recover slower than most people. I will say I am much better at recovery than when I first started running. Back then it took me a good 3-4 days before I could walk somewhat. Now I can walk, there is a limp, and I am slow. I'll take that.
In a few days I will go for a short run just to begin to get back into it. The Monumental Half Marathon is the first weekend of November. Got to get ready.
Charlie
At this point the pain is mostly in my ankles and feet. The hips, quads and hamstrings are better. I no longer feel like I will cramp. This is the price I pay sometimes.
Arthritis is a hard thing at times. It means I recover slower than most people. I will say I am much better at recovery than when I first started running. Back then it took me a good 3-4 days before I could walk somewhat. Now I can walk, there is a limp, and I am slow. I'll take that.
In a few days I will go for a short run just to begin to get back into it. The Monumental Half Marathon is the first weekend of November. Got to get ready.
Charlie
Monday, October 08, 2012
Mo' Cowbell Half Marathon
The clanging of cowbells was very evident yesterday for the Second Annual Mo' Cowbell Half Marathon in St. Charles, MO. St. Charles is an historic town just outside St. Louis, along the Missouri River. It was the first state capital of Missouri. Daniel Boone lived there and Lewis and Clark used it as a base at the start of their exploring the Louisiana Purchase. The town has charming buildings and brick streets. Lots of history.
The morning was a cold one. Temperatures at the start were in the upper 30s. The cold didn't do anything to chill the enthusiasm of the 2000+ runners who came out with bells on - cowbells to be exact. Who came up with the cowbell theme, I don't know. As someone who collect cows and finds them funny, this race really appealed to me.
At the start I rang my bell a few seconds, then handed it to Mark, so I could get ready for the race. Our dog Friday wanted to come with me, because she tried to scoot under an iron gate to get to me. Poor thing scratched her nose.
The race began with lots of cowbell clanging. In my mind I thought about the plan I had in place, and how I hoped it would get me through the 13.1 miles. Off we went. The first part of the course is along the Missouri River, but soon we veered more towards town, and then headed away from town. The first mile was in 13:04 - where I wanted to be. The next couple miles were in a mixture of farm and just countryside. It was pretty. By now the sun was up, and the chill wasn't as chilly. I was feeling good, bopping along to my music. Mile 2 was in 13:13 and Mile 3 was in 13:42.
Mile 4 was going to be a mark where I could judge how the race was going. I figured if I could run 4.3 miles in the first hour I would be on target and happy. I ran 4.4 miles. I was good. My training plan was working.
Soon we headed into the most interesting part of the race. They had us run through a farm. This was on gravel, and I don't do well on gravel, still I was fine. I saw the farm, the pumpkin patch(I had never seen one full of pumpkins), no cows though - odd.
From there we got back on a main road, and were heading to New Town. New Town is one of the most fascinating housing developments I have ever seen. There is nothing but farms surrounding it. Once you enter it looks like a development soon in the building stage, but not for long. At about the 5.5 mile mark, you enter the main area. There are homes ranging from Cape Cod style to Row House Mansions. There are lakes and parks. There was a town hall, and various kiosks of business. I saw a cool modern church, and again amazing looking homes. Oddly enough there was almost no one outside, but plenty of cars were parked, so people were home. In my mind I thought of the Stepford Wives community, but chances that is not what is going on. Still I thought everything looked pretty and later showed Mark the area.
At the two hour point I had run 8.2 miles. I was still on track plan wise, and I was pretty proud of myself. I will say though I was feeling a bit of pain in my hips at this point, and I was feeling tired. Looking back, I think this was the wall of the half marathon for me. I called Mark when I got to mile 9, and let him know I was a bit tired, and the hills were ahead of me. He gave me encouraging words, and I kept going.
This is the point where the hills killed my training plan. I got through mile 9 fine. Miles 10 and 11 are the killers. There is an elevation incline of 128 ft. I was walking, but I was determined to keep a good pace. At my slowest on these hills I was doing a 17:30 pace. Working the pace though took a toll on my body.
I was in a lot of pain at this point. My feet were killing me. My hamstrings and quads were yelling at me. My hips were in pain. The pain got worse, because what goes up.......
Once I hit Mile 11, it was downhill, and I mean DOWNHILL. According to my Garmin, Mile 11 had a 128 ft incline, Mile 12 was a 121 ft decline. This was very painful for me.
The last two miles I wasn't running, just shuffling along. While I was hurting, I felt good that I finished this race, and did it under the 16 minute pace the race set for the course to stay open. I finished in 3:28:22, with a 15:55 min/mile pace. I wanted to be faster, but with the training plan I have, I know I can do better on a flatter course.
Following the race, I met up with Mark and Friday. I have a physical therapist try to stretch me out a bit(harder than it sounds). I also have a cowbell shaped medal to show for my day.
The race was well organized, and would recommend it to anyone. Great day, great race.
Moo!
Charlie
The morning was a cold one. Temperatures at the start were in the upper 30s. The cold didn't do anything to chill the enthusiasm of the 2000+ runners who came out with bells on - cowbells to be exact. Who came up with the cowbell theme, I don't know. As someone who collect cows and finds them funny, this race really appealed to me.
At the start I rang my bell a few seconds, then handed it to Mark, so I could get ready for the race. Our dog Friday wanted to come with me, because she tried to scoot under an iron gate to get to me. Poor thing scratched her nose.
The race began with lots of cowbell clanging. In my mind I thought about the plan I had in place, and how I hoped it would get me through the 13.1 miles. Off we went. The first part of the course is along the Missouri River, but soon we veered more towards town, and then headed away from town. The first mile was in 13:04 - where I wanted to be. The next couple miles were in a mixture of farm and just countryside. It was pretty. By now the sun was up, and the chill wasn't as chilly. I was feeling good, bopping along to my music. Mile 2 was in 13:13 and Mile 3 was in 13:42.
Mile 4 was going to be a mark where I could judge how the race was going. I figured if I could run 4.3 miles in the first hour I would be on target and happy. I ran 4.4 miles. I was good. My training plan was working.
Soon we headed into the most interesting part of the race. They had us run through a farm. This was on gravel, and I don't do well on gravel, still I was fine. I saw the farm, the pumpkin patch(I had never seen one full of pumpkins), no cows though - odd.
From there we got back on a main road, and were heading to New Town. New Town is one of the most fascinating housing developments I have ever seen. There is nothing but farms surrounding it. Once you enter it looks like a development soon in the building stage, but not for long. At about the 5.5 mile mark, you enter the main area. There are homes ranging from Cape Cod style to Row House Mansions. There are lakes and parks. There was a town hall, and various kiosks of business. I saw a cool modern church, and again amazing looking homes. Oddly enough there was almost no one outside, but plenty of cars were parked, so people were home. In my mind I thought of the Stepford Wives community, but chances that is not what is going on. Still I thought everything looked pretty and later showed Mark the area.
At the two hour point I had run 8.2 miles. I was still on track plan wise, and I was pretty proud of myself. I will say though I was feeling a bit of pain in my hips at this point, and I was feeling tired. Looking back, I think this was the wall of the half marathon for me. I called Mark when I got to mile 9, and let him know I was a bit tired, and the hills were ahead of me. He gave me encouraging words, and I kept going.
This is the point where the hills killed my training plan. I got through mile 9 fine. Miles 10 and 11 are the killers. There is an elevation incline of 128 ft. I was walking, but I was determined to keep a good pace. At my slowest on these hills I was doing a 17:30 pace. Working the pace though took a toll on my body.
I was in a lot of pain at this point. My feet were killing me. My hamstrings and quads were yelling at me. My hips were in pain. The pain got worse, because what goes up.......
Once I hit Mile 11, it was downhill, and I mean DOWNHILL. According to my Garmin, Mile 11 had a 128 ft incline, Mile 12 was a 121 ft decline. This was very painful for me.
The last two miles I wasn't running, just shuffling along. While I was hurting, I felt good that I finished this race, and did it under the 16 minute pace the race set for the course to stay open. I finished in 3:28:22, with a 15:55 min/mile pace. I wanted to be faster, but with the training plan I have, I know I can do better on a flatter course.
Following the race, I met up with Mark and Friday. I have a physical therapist try to stretch me out a bit(harder than it sounds). I also have a cowbell shaped medal to show for my day.
The race was well organized, and would recommend it to anyone. Great day, great race.
Moo!
Charlie
Saturday, October 06, 2012
Night Before
Race time is 7:30am CT Sunday morning. I am battling a bit of a cold that I have been fighting all week. Not sure how I will feel, but I am ready for the race. Got my bib, got my cowbell. Bring it on.
Charlie
Charlie
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Three Days to Go
Three days until the Mo'Cowbell Half Marathon! This has been a while in coming. Looking forward to getting the taste of the Rock n' Roll Chicago out of my system. Sunday morning I will be at the start line with 3,000 runners. Surrounding me will be the sound of cowbells.
Spectators will have cowbells clanging in support of the runners on the 13.1 mile course. Here is what the start of last year's race was like....
Looks like it will be a clanging good time. A week or so ago I detailed the plan for the race. I think I have a good plan ready. The weather is supposed to be sunny and in the upper 30s at the start, getting into the 50s once the race really gets going.
I will be on my own on the course. It isn't convenient for Mark and Friday to follow me, so they will be wandering around the the start/finish area and St. Charles while I am out there.
Mostly I want to finish this race, finish strong and have fun. Wish me luck.
Charlie
Spectators will have cowbells clanging in support of the runners on the 13.1 mile course. Here is what the start of last year's race was like....
I will be on my own on the course. It isn't convenient for Mark and Friday to follow me, so they will be wandering around the the start/finish area and St. Charles while I am out there.
Mostly I want to finish this race, finish strong and have fun. Wish me luck.
Charlie
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Fall on the Monon
This morning I headed out for a 3.5 mile run on the Monon Trail. It was a driving mist, with the temperatures in the 60s. The trail was wet carpeted with fallen leaves. The reds and yellows were bright and looking like a mosaic on the trail. I love running in Fall.
The run itself was a nice one. Not too hard. I don't want to run too hard or fast during race week. I have been battling a cold I think, so I was taking care not to get too overworked on this run. I want to be good to go on Sunday, but I felt it was important to get out for a run.
It was quiet on the trail. Very few folks were out. Those who greated me looked like they too were enjoying Fall on the Monon. One man was walking a Chocolate Lab puppy. The puppy wanted to greet me and looked liked he wanted to run with me. I saw the man and puppy on the way out, and on the way back. Both times I thought Friday would have a playmate if this one came home with me.
The quiet was what I enjoyed the most. I was able to hear my footsteps. I listened to my breathing, making sure I was overexerting myself. Again though, the quiet was very calming.
I look forward to more Fall runs, but in the meantime, we are getting closer to race day.
Charlie
The run itself was a nice one. Not too hard. I don't want to run too hard or fast during race week. I have been battling a cold I think, so I was taking care not to get too overworked on this run. I want to be good to go on Sunday, but I felt it was important to get out for a run.
It was quiet on the trail. Very few folks were out. Those who greated me looked like they too were enjoying Fall on the Monon. One man was walking a Chocolate Lab puppy. The puppy wanted to greet me and looked liked he wanted to run with me. I saw the man and puppy on the way out, and on the way back. Both times I thought Friday would have a playmate if this one came home with me.
The quiet was what I enjoyed the most. I was able to hear my footsteps. I listened to my breathing, making sure I was overexerting myself. Again though, the quiet was very calming.
I look forward to more Fall runs, but in the meantime, we are getting closer to race day.
Charlie
Monday, October 01, 2012
Race Week
You got to love race week. This is the week you have been waiting for. The day is almost here, and the anticipation is up. I'm feeling good about the race. The only thing I worry about is I am feeling tired. I don't know if I am coming down with something. God I hope not.
Still race week is a good week. Whether you are running a 5K, half or full marathon, it's exciting to know your race is coming up. You have trained hard, and now are ready for the day. I am ready for the day. I know how I want to run the race, and I have a solid plan.
Tomorrow will be a 5-7 mile run, and I may run a smaller run later in the week. Bring on race day!
Charlie
Still race week is a good week. Whether you are running a 5K, half or full marathon, it's exciting to know your race is coming up. You have trained hard, and now are ready for the day. I am ready for the day. I know how I want to run the race, and I have a solid plan.
Tomorrow will be a 5-7 mile run, and I may run a smaller run later in the week. Bring on race day!
Charlie
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