Life's Like a Box of Chocolates

"For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going." Forrest Gump

When John first mentioned the idea of running the Halloween Half Marathon on Miami Beach and add a 7 mile run to it, I thought he was a bit off his chum. I've heard of people trying to do a run after a race to get their weekend long run up to a particular mile mark, but always heard that it didn't work out well. Usually this is due to the person running the extra miles after a race run at race speed. John's running friend Deb, whom he met at the Gold Coast Marathon in Australia was running it and John decided running the race would be a great way to knock out our planned 20 miler. Since the weather looked to be warm as the morning wore on, I convinced John to run the extra 7 miles before the half marathon instead of afterward.

Deb is originally from Australia, but now lives in Fort Lauderdale with her Mid-Western husband Mark, a really great and friendly guy, and her two young blond hairs boys who kept us in stitches with their post-race antics. Mark and the boys were heading down at a reasonable hour later in the morning, so I picked up John & Deb at John's condo complex for the ride down to Miami Beach. At around 79th Street the traffic was funneled down to one lane and finally diverted off of I-95 completely, dumping us into what we all knew was a not so nice neighborhood. As we passed a couple of "working women" at about 5 AM, Deb starts to tell us about an incident she had where she got lost in a not so nice section of Fort Lauderdale looking for some governmental office. Deb tells us that as she rolled down her window to ask for directions some women advised her to "buy her stuff from them, because the guys will rip you off." I tell an off color joke I'd heard the night before on Comedy Central about a guy trying to get beads tossed at him from a float during Mardi Gras. The whole thing had a sort of whistling through the graveyard feel to it. Tell jokes as you ride through a neighborhood you wouldn't voluntarily drive through and maybe all will go well.

We clear the bad neighborhood and turn onto US-1 heading south. We finally get to Parrot Jungle, a tourist attraction that is the sight of the race start. After Port-O-Potty stops, John and I leave Deb to do our 7 mile pre-race run. We follow the race course along MacArthur Causeway past the cruise ships coming and going from their week touring the Caribbean. Its still dark with a cool breeze coming off the water. On the return run, I start in on a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger impression to avoid hearing further lecturing on pacing from John "the Governator." John keeps us on about a 9 minute pace that he figures is what we should not go faster than to complete the whole 20 miles.

We make it back to the start area about 2 minutes before the start of the half marathon. Almost all 800 participants are in closed off and gated corrals. I suggest we go to the back of the pack and work out way up to the appropriate pace area during the race. However, Deb waves to us from near the front of the starting line. As I jog towards the back John says, "No, let's go hop the barrier and get in with Deb. She said she would run at our 9 minute pace." I knew that Deb was a pretty good runner and that this would be a bit of a slow pace for her if she was racing the half marathon, but assumed John and Deb must have discussed and agreed upon her running our pace. So, back we jog to near the front of the crowd and squeeze in from the front past the first five lines of runners. You know these people, predominantly guys, that are planning to run so fast that they go shirtless because they are going to get so hot running at such fast speeds (and besides they've got their 6-pack abs and this is the only way they can show them off without looking like they are showing off their 6-pack abs).

I turn to John & Deb and say, "We are going to get run over." I just ran 7 miles and hadn't planned to have to bolt off the front with the fast boys and girls. Oh, well, I figure, we're going to pace out together. We'll let the fast runners go around us and find our proper pacing place within the first mile. As the race starts, I go off at the pace of those around me. Too fast. I look around and neither John nor Deb are with me. I have gone out too fast due to lining up with the fast runners. Oh well, stupid is as stupid does. I slow a bit and find Deb. John is no where in sight.

As we run the first couple of miles together, I mention that I'd better pace back to John in order to avoid a lecture. I fall back at the first water station. When John catches up, I am not so lucky as to avoid the "proper pacing" lecture. John starts telling me some lame recycled story he picked up at a business meeting about personal responsibility...blah, blah, blah. It kind of sounded like one of those lectures high school gym teachers tell guys about practicing safe sex. If I'd known I'd be in for this treatment, I'd have stayed up with a better looking and more friendly Deb. As John carries on, all I could think about was the various ways you can eat shrimp. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There is shrimp-kabob, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That's about it.

After John's lecture, we settle into a steady 9 minute pace and start appreciating the costumed runners in our area. Some people really got into the Halloween theme with some great costumes. One guy ran with a diaper and pacifier; probably a good way to avoid any Port-O-Potty stops, I guess. There were a lot of women dressed up as Wonder Woman. My feeling is that all women endurance athletes are Wonder Woman. There were also a couple of guys dressed up in various stages of Forrest Gump during his running phase. More on that in a bit.

I've always endorsed the Miami Half Marathon and Marathon as the most beautiful runs in the state of Florida at those distances. Well, the Halloween Half just one upped the Miami Half. While it pretty much matches the Miami Half route, it makes the Miami Beach portion even more pictureque by going completely along the ocean front the entire route. The middle miles end up on a boardwalk along the beach with beautiful views of the beach and ocean. Additionally, the boardwalk has a little more give to it over the road making it feel a little like a trail run. Finally, the out and back aspect of the beach part of the run gives you a chance to see the race leaders and your friends. John and I see Deb as she is doubling back. We shout encouragement and exchange high fives.

For most of the run, John is pacing just behind me such that I can't tell whether he is holding steady or falling off my pace. However, having promised to not run faster than an 8:55 pace, I keep self correcting and slowing a bit. "We are training for the ironman, not racing a half marathon," I keep repeating to myself. At about mile 10, my hips and pelvis start to bother me. This is the one residual I notice that is left over from my bike accident back in early September. This give me some concern about how I'll feel at the 26.2 mile distance. However, I figure there is not much I can do about it. My momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." I decide its best to slow a bit and take my pace back to 9:20s. As John passes me, I tell him to go ahead. John pulls away still keeping the steady 9's.

As John starts to approach the finish line, he realizes that he's about to get passed by a guy dressed as Forrest Gump. The guy has the full beard and wild hair of Forrest Gump at the end of his running with the group of running disciples. As he passes Deb and her family, he shouts out, "I'm getting beat by Forrest Gump." Then shouts, "No I'm not." He starts a final kick, which only causes Forrest to start a finish kick. They end up crossing at the same time. I come in about a minute later.

That evening, John looks up his results and can't find his time listed. It turns out Deb came in second in her age group. John stumbles across the "Fastest Funny Costume - Men" division and tries to find Forrest Gump. Instead he finds his time listed. He queries by e-mail to Deb and me, "Did I look that funny? Go figure." My response was that I think they had him down as "Person in crowd running with Forrest Gump."

Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.

Running Stupid: The Tampa Half Marathon

What do you do when you unexpectedly get a good race result? Sign up for another race the following weekend and try to do it again. The problem with that idea is that karma will surely throw roadblocks in your way. Or, as my friend Tracey, a psychologist, wrote on my Facebook page when she found out I was planning to do a second half marathon in consecutive weekends: "You're NUTS!" I'm sure she says that to all of her clients.

I traveled from Ft. Lauderdale to Clearwater on Friday to visit family. A running friend from Chicago, Linda, was in town to visit her Cousin and his wife. I had told her that the races compromising the Gasparilla Distance Classic (a 15K, Half Marathon and Marathon) were nice races because they all incorporated long stretches of waterfront along Bay Shore Drive just west of downtown Tampa. Linda was looking for a winter event to get away from the cold and snow covered streets of Chicago. She had pre-registered for the half marathon. My brother Dave & I decided to late register, not knowing whether our schedules would permit us to run. However, come Saturday, Dave & I committed to the race. I decide to run in part due to my unexpectedly good performance at the A1a Half Marathon the weekend before, a 1:41 result out of nowhere. I thought that perhaps it was possible for me to go below 1:40 for the first time in several years.

I had arranged to pick Linda up from her cousin's house at 4:15AM. My brother was to meet us a 4:30 AM sharp at my sister's house in Clearwater for the 45 minute drive to downtown Tampa. I wake at 3:45 AM, get out the door by 4:05 AM, and am back at my sister's house at 4:30 AM as planned. When I arrive: no Dave. I call him. He tells me he's on his way. I figure he's almost at our meeting point. We wait some more. I try re-dialing, but Dave's not picking up his cell phone. He finally shows up at about 4:50 AM. Dave explains that he couldn't find his running shorts he intended to wear and had to look all over to find them.

The delay made a big difference in trying to park. By the time we get to downtown Tampa with various streets closed for the marathon, all traffic is funneled onto one main street. After creeping along for 15 minutes, I tell Dave and Linda to leave me and get to the start area. I would park the car and try to find them at the start. It takes me about another 15 minutes to get parked. I start to jog to the start area and come across a set of 3 port-o-potties with lines about 6 people deep and decide I'd better use these facilities while I can. By the time I am second in line to use the potty, I hear the sound of the singing of the national anthem from the speakers at the starting line. "Not good," I think. Once the song is over, the race officials will start the race.

I quickly take care of business in the port-o-potty and jog over to the start area. The start area is on a two lane side street filled with runners. While I can see the starting line banner, there are several thousand people between me and the starting line. I try to work my way through the crowd before I note that the crowd is moving slowly forward, which means the race has started. Sure enough, everyone starts that slow in place jog we all do as we approach the starting mat. As I cross the starting line, I hear the race announcer state, "We are now 2 and a half minutes into the race." I realize I am way back in the field with slower runners, fun runners and walkers.

For the first 3 miles of the race, I'm spending extra effort and energy going left and right trying to find gaps in groups of runners doing 11 minute plus miles. My propensity is to go out fast in a 7:30 pace. I'm forced to take cuts where I can find them, surge through gaps between runners were I can, then slow down and look for anther gap. I pass my first pace group leader in the first mile. His sign reads "5:30," as in a 5 hour 30 minute marathon pace group leader. I groan. I'm in real trouble. At about the mile mark, we hit a narrow bridge leading from downtown Tampa over to Davis Island. The bottleneck forces me to an almost complete stop. There are no gaps between runners over this bridge, so I'm forced to slow to a 10 minute pace.

After the bridge, the crowd spreads out again over the 2 lane roads and I start the bob and weave, surge and slow up approach to get to a place where the runners are at my pace. At about mile 4, I come across Linda who is running about the pace I should be running. "I would like to strangle my brother with his running shorts," I say to Linda. "There is no way I can run this for a good time now." I realize I've been running like a scared gazelle being chased by a lion. All the cutting, surging and slowing have taken up valuable energy that I would need for a good race time.

I decide to try to calm myself down and run an even pace going forward. My slow first mile was made up in miles 2 through 4 so that my average per mile pace has averaged down to 8:01. OK, I decide, let's see if I can hit a 1:45. Linda is running slightly slower than I, so I pick up my pace slightly and move ahead.

The even strategy seems to work well for the next several miles. Around the 7 and a half mile mark, however, the course turns west along Bay Shore Drive. Unfortunately, winds of about 15 mph are blowing directly into us. This section of the race goes to about the 10 and a half mile mark. Thus, for 3 miles, I feel like a sail filled with wind. My pace slows substantially. At the turn around point, I feel the wind at my back and start picking up my pace to try to even out the time lost on the last 3 miles. The wind is so strong the discarded water cups from the drink stations are blowing down the road past me. I try to chase the cups to keep a faster pace.

At mile 12, race volunteers are passing out Mardi Gras beads. I decide that since my time goals are long gone, I might as well have fun. I take several of the offered beads and put them around my neck for the finish. As I cross the finish line, my watch time is 1:49:09. I get my medal and wait for Linda to cross in 1:52. We mutually complain about the wind and start to shiver in our mylar blankets due to the wind and a light rain that accompanies the passing cold front.

We go inside the Tampa Convention Center to get out of the bad weather. With all the lateral motion and surging in the first 4 miles, my left calf is feeling sore. I decide to pony up the $10 for a leg message to ward off any creeping soreness in the calf. As I come out of the message room, I get a call from brother Dave who finished in 2:07. He has made his way to the convention center also and we all meet back up. I decide that I had no reason to expect a fast race the week after a previous race and probably would not have run a sub 1:40 with the wind conditions. Thus, I decide to not mention my troubles at the race start to my brother. All is forgiven. We go back to the car, change and head out for breakfast.

Dave, Linda & Bill in sweaty mylar wraps.

My lesson learned is to appreciate a good result by itself. Don't push your luck by trying to repeat the effort too soon. Having run 3 half marathons in the last 5 weeks, I consider the winter half marathon season officially over. Now, I can switch my focus to the 2 Olympic Triathlons I've committed to for the Spring. Rest assured: they are not on consecutive weekends.

Exceeding Expectations: The A1a Half Marathon

Today, I learned that impending disaster can turn unexpectedly into positive results. Why? I don't know, but it happened to me at the A1a Half Marathon on Sunday.

The A1a Half Marathon is a hometown race that I had signed up for a year ago based on discounted early race fees. As several of my running friends were not running this event for various reasons, I wasn't too excited or focused on this half marathon. I had gone to a Miami Heat game during the day on Saturday. That evening was spent with some none running friends drinking some wine and eating dolphin they had caught fishing that day. While the fish was delicious, it was far different from the usual pre-race pasta feed. We talked with our friends late into the evening. By the time I got home, arranged my running gear and turned in for the night, it was past 11PM. Not the best for my planned 4:30AM wake up. My sleep that night was not the best either. I suppose it wasn't any worse than a pre-marathon's night's sleep, but I awoke feeling a bit out of sorts.

Cool weather in the mid 60s and a slight breeze bode well for a good start. My situation at the race starting area, however, was like being involved in a train wreck. The parking lot near the start, which is normally maned by a fee collector for major events, had no attendants. Instead, everyone had to stand in an enormous line waiting to use the pay machine for a parking slip to put in the window of our cars. After waiting in line to pay for parking for what seemed like 45 minutes and still a good half hour from being able to use the parking toll machine , I hear the race officials announce that the wheel chair division will start in 5 minutes. I abandon the line, risking a $25 parking ticket.

I head into the corrals without time to make a port-a-potty stop...and I feel like I have to go. I find some friends and we wait for the start. We wait some more. It turns out that the race officials decided to delay the start by 15 minutes for a train to pass which crosses the course. "Oh good," I think, "I can get to the potties and back before the start." I bolt over to the port-a-potties and duck into one. No toilet papar and a very wet seat. No thank you! I find a cleaner potty. Unfortunately, I get no luck in getting my system started. After sitting for 5 minutes with no results, I decide its best to get back to my corral before the starting gun is fired.

I resign myself to a bad race and start asking some friends who I've met up with what pace they plan to run. 8 minute miles? Sounds good to me. That would equate to a 1:45, which I think may be wildly optimistic given my morning so far. One of these friends I'm with, Jana, is usually a pretty fast runner. However, she feels under trained for the race. Her hedging is not helping my doubting psyche. I decide that running with this group is probably the best I can do. I hope not to blow up and end up off this 1:45 target, which feels like a stretch goal.

Once the gun goes off, however, I break ahead of this running group. I later learn the group splintered from the start. I just go by feel and I seem to feel OK. I hit the first mile marker with a 7:30 mile. I think I may be buying trouble, but there is no going back. I run mile 2 in a similar time of 7:30. I know I'm out too fast. I slow things down a bit and settle into the 7:45 to 7:50 pace range. As I pass from Las Olas to A1a I see injured buddy John and friend Tracy and high five them on the way by.

As I head up A1a, I figure I'll try to stick to a 7:50 mile pace until I start to bleed pace and drop into the 8:00 to 8:30 range. However, the 7:50 pace never seems to wear me out. I must have either gotten good speed work the week before on my race pace runs or I'm more rested from the 2 week training hiatus. "Best not to over-analyse during the race," I think, "Just keep going until your pace naturally drops." It never does. I keep the 7:50ish pace and come in strong for a 1:41 finish.

Bill at around mile 12

Our really fast friends, Keith and Jen, take age group places. Jana had the trouble keeping pace that she expected, but finishes respectably in 1:46. Our friend Carrie, doing her last event before heading out to New Zealand for her first full Ironman, comes in at 2:04. Fast bicyclist, first time half marathoner, Tony comes in around 2:10. Injured buddy John is at the finish to take pictures as we cross the line. Injured wife Salome took all the pictures in this blog entry. Everyone was in good spirits and glad to be done before the temperatures start creaping into the upper 70s. We headed to the food area to munch on bananas, cookies and muffins. We've earned a little indulgence.

Tony, Carrie & Bill at the finish area

Why was I able to sustain a sub 8 minute pace when I've dropped pace after the 10K mark in my last several marathons? I'm not sure. Perhaps it was simply not going in with great expectations, allowing me to run a more controlled and even pace. Maybe it was simply good weather. I'm not sure I care about the reason. The result was good and I never did receive a parking ticket. I think I'll just enjoy the result and let it be.

Miami Marathon Weekend

Warning: This is an overly-long entry. I promise to keep it shorter in the future. I haven't got time for this and training.

Sunday was the 7th annual ING Miami Marathon and Half Marathon. Flying into South Florida for the full marathon were our friends Kieth & Sheila who we met on our Dublin Marathon trip last year. Keith had previously coaxed me into signing up for the Vegas Marathon in December before life scheduling conflicts forced him to cancel that trip. In the exchange following our e-mails regarding his conflicts, I suggested he schedule Miami instead. Sheila had BQed in Dublin and Keith was attempting to BQ to join Sheila on her Boston Marathon run.

As for me, coming just 2 weeks after the Disney Marathon, I had little business running the half marathon. However, I had previously agreed to pace my paralegal's high school cross country running daughter Daniel ("Dani") through her second run of the half marathon. We decided to try for a sub 2 hour half, but neither of us were trained for the effort. Dani was studying for the SATs and that was her main focus the last couple of weeks. However, she decided running the half would be a good way to get in some base training for spring track season, so we decided to run.

"Half-Iron (for now) John" decided to pace our friend Victor to a sub 1:50 half, but John too was under trained for such an effort. Somehow we trick ourselves into thinking that because we are not running at PR paces, that we can gut out an event like the half marathon. In fact John is so not paying attention to conventional running wisdom that he decides to pace a high school cross country runner in a 5K event the day before the half marathon. No one has ever accused us as being the smartest runners in the area. Enthusiastic to the point of stupid maybe; but smart, not so much.

Saturday afternoon, I pick up John to ride down to the Expo together. I drive around South Beach like a lost tourist for an hour trying to find the convention center. I don't think we hit any pedestrians or cars before we parked, but as the band Boston sang, "Don't look back." Once parked, John seemed grateful to be out of the SUV.

At the Expo, we split up. I meet up with Dani and her entourage, consisting of boyfriend Josh and father Oscar. We agree again that neither of us feels up to a PR pace and decide to enjoy the race at whatever pace feels right on race morning. After we split up, I locate John who has met up with several of the JFR women runners from Ft. Lauderdale. We talk running and triathlons, comparing notes on who is signed up for which events over the next year. They all seem to be shooting for near the 2 hour mark for the half. I review the race course with the ladies and warn them about the false sense of being at the finish line with about a half mile left to run. John takes some group shots of the JFR runners and they depart to their pasta feed.

We continue to cruise the expo. I am on strict instructions from wife Salome to bring home lots of free goodies that they typically give out at these events. However, with the economy in the drink, there appears to be few to no goodies at the booths. We stop at the Rock & Roll Marathon booth and I do manage to finagle a second free T-Shirt for John by signing up for the Seattle Marathon. With little to bring back to the cave, I see a "Life is Good" grocery bag that I decide to buy for Salome. Its good for the environment, and its only $5. She should love this. John, being more astute than I in the gift giving department, advises that I stop off on the way home to buy flowers to put in the bag before I present it. "Don't forget to execute on the plan," John advises me as I drop him off Debbie's condo. "Sure thing. Thanks for the good advice," I reply. Unfortunately, as I drive north on I-95, I get a call from Salome telling me to hurry home as we will be late for our dinner engagement. "OK, so no flowers," I think, "Its still a great bag. Utilitarian, economical, ecologically sound." Did I mention it had that nice "Life is Good" smiley faced dude on the outside? Of course, when I present it, Salome is not so impressed. Note to self: next time, buy flowers before going to expo.

John meets up with several of the Tony & Tracy branch of our extended athletic family for a pasta feed. Keith & Sheila join them. John introduces them as Dublin Marathon friends, but something is lost in translation and the group somehow ends up thinking our Michigan friends are from Scotland. Keith rolls with it stating he left his kilt is in the car.

In the morning, I decide to wear an Alaska tech shirt in honor of buddy Wayne, who is still coming back from triple bypass surgery. I drive to Miami and pick up John. He guesses that I will get a lot of people shouting out "Go Alaska." We park the SUV and walk to the start. We meet up with Dani, Victor, Demetri, and Randi. Dani & I agree to start out with John & Vic and see if we can hang with them on their quest for a sub 1:50. As the gun goes off, the race officials shoot off a bunch of flare guns to simulate a fireworks display. Nice touch.

My plan is to try to keep Dani on the 8:20 min/mile pace if we can hold it with John & Vic. At the 2 mile mark, I note that Dani is falling off pace and tell John & Vic we are dropping back. At the bridge crossing onto South Beach, I note the 3:30 pace runner going by with his balloons and a pack of runners. Dani and I drift to the left of the road to allow the bunch to pass. Realizing that this is probably where Keith & Sheila are running, I shout out "Sheila." Sheila sees me and calls back "Bill." I look over to spot Keith & Sheila and make eye contact. What I fail to notice in doing this is that the race course officials decided to place a 3 foot cone right in my path. I whack into the cone, knocking it over and almost doing a summer salt. "Um, Hi guys. You didn' t see that, did you?" The huge grins on their faces give me my answer. "You guys look great. Hang onto the pacer for that 3:30 finish," I say as they go by.

Dani looks good, but keeps tucking in behind me. A good strategy for drafting, but I keep having to do Linda Blair head turns to make sure I'm not dropping her. At the 10K mark, we do goos with a water chaser. "Yuck," Dani says as she spits a few times. A mile later, we alternate to Gatorade, which was an overly strong mix. We both start feeling a little nauseous. I'm trying to figure out if we did bad goos or if the Gatorade is the culprit. I advise that we stick with water for a few miles. Dani is also starting to feel some blisters, but declines an offer to stop and adjust her socks. The mile 11 cheering zone psyches us up and we pick up our pace. Just as John predicted, I get a lot of shout outs of "Go Alaska." By mile 12 Dani starts asking me for distances to the finish. We have been off pace for the last couple of mile to do a sub-2 hour run. I can tell Dani's near the end of her endurance, but try to keep her going by not stressing splits. "Only a mile to go," I tell her. Then I start breaking the remaining distances down into laps of a track. With a quarter mile to go, I tell Dani that if she wants to do a kick, she should start accelerating now. I state that coming off the marathon, I don't want to risk injury. However, as she picks up speed, I try to accelerate with her. I keep up with her for a while, but Dani has great acceleration. She pulls away at the finish to best me by 4 seconds.

John had a similar experience with Victor. Vic has lost weight recently and started to up the pace over the last couple of miles. John, in an effort to both keep Vic from blowing up and from pulling away at the finish, tells Victor he has the sub 1:50 in the bag. "Don't blow it now, Dude." Victor, feeling light on his feet, pulls away anyway to a 4 minute improvement on his PR, coming in at 1:47:52. John comes in a second later. Later, John & I agree that no good pacing deed goes unpunished. Of course, we are thrilled for Victor. Randi comes in at 2:03 and Demetri runs a 2:12.

I reunite Dani with her entourage that now includes her mother Val. I later hear that as I ventured off to meet my other running buddies, Dani sat down and tossed her cookies a couple of times. Too bad, as the cookies they gave out at the finish were delicious. As Dani is spaying the grass, Val puts Dani's metal around her own neck. Just for safe keeping, mind you. I understand Dani eventually got the metal back after Val received a few compliments for running a half marathon in jeans and a sweatshirt.

The JFR girls hit their marks, but we fail to see them finish and don't run across them. Kelly makes a 10 minute improvement on her PR. Congratulations to Kelly, Nora, Anna, Cassie and Marci. We look forward to seeing you gals burn up the A1a Half Marathon in February. We also don't see our friend from Delray, Jen, who was also not running at full speed this day. However, Jen's time at reduced pace still makes our times look anemic.

We meet triathlete Carrie, Tracey and her brother Lane, his wife Theresa, and daughter Ali. Carrie ran under Tracey & Lane's mother, Myrna's racing bib. Myrna was unable to run, so 30-something Carrie stepped into her shoes so to speak. Fortunately, Carrie omitted the timing strip from her shoe or she she might have had some explaining to do at the age group awards ceremony.

Carrie "Myrna," Ali, Theresa, Lane & Tracey

John, Debbie and I make our way over to the stands near finish line to watch for our full marathoners Keith & Sheila. We see the 3:30 pace runner come in with 2 male runners struggling to keep up with him. We fear our friends will not make the 3:30 cut off. But, no, around the corner comes a guy and a girl pushing to make the cut-off before clock strikes 3:31. "Go Keith! Run, Sheila!" we yell and start to get the people around us to also cheer our friends in. As they come close to us with only 25 yards to the finish, I turn to John and say, "Hold on, I don't think its them." Sure enough, its a nice couple pushing each other to the finish, but its not our friends. After a couple of false sightings, we see Sheila, but are doubting ourselves. As she passes we finally start shouting her name. "Well, I hope that was her," John says. Sheila finishes in 3:40:56, a new PR. We promise to cheer better next time Sheila.

Keith comes into view several minutes later looking like he is ready to be done with the marathon. As we start shouting his name, he lifts up his shoulders and picks up his speed to cross the finish in 3:47:42. No BQ; but, as I say, any day you finish a marathon under 4 hours is a good day.

That night we have a gathering at my house for a post race celebration. The event was initiated in part by Keith & Sheila's visit and in part by running buddy Keith Seago and me turning 50 within a month of each other. Keith & Sheila meet up with John and Debbie and come over by boat. They bring a copy of a picture of me astride a broomstick in Dublin on Halloween night. My mind drifts back through the haze to that drunken night and I vaguely remember goofing around with that broom. Suddenly, I realize I'm a prop comic. I'm freakin' Carrot Top. OK, let's not drink too much Guinness tonight. Better start with the Harps.

Grill chef extraordinaire Peter cooks up lamb, chicken and salmon, while Salome & Kiki work the salad, vegis and spinach pie in the kitchen. I keep pushing the various Irish brews on our guests. We gather to talk about the Miami Marathon and our upcoming spring triathlons. Tracey had let me know that its was her husband Tony's birthday, so I had gotten a birthday cake and candles for him. But the event was supposed to celebrate Keith Seago and me turning 50. So we all sang happy birthday to Tony, Keith Seago and me. Well, Keith and my wife Salome discover that their birthdays are both on February 11th. OK, so we sing an early happy birthday to Salome too. Someone asks the date of my birthday. "January 9th," I say. Tracey announce that her birthday is in early January. "Happy birthday to you..." John says, "Hey, my birthday is December 30th. That's close." "Happy birthday to you..." We soon realize that most of us are either Capricorns or Acquarians and we've sung happy birthdays to almost everyone present.

As the evening comes to an end, John takes Keith and Sheila (along with the Debster) back to John's condo by boat so Keith and Sheila can pick up their car and drive back to my place to spend the night in our guest room. After a pleasant boat ride to John's place, John gives Keith and Sheila simple directions back to my house. They start off following John's directions, but decide to use the trusty Garmin GPS system. They put in my address that they have from my e-mails and start off. Unfortunately, they had my office address from my e-mails and are now steer off course to my office address, which looks nothing like my house. I get a call a good while later asking where the heck I live. I give them my home address and go back to cleaning up the house from the party. After a while, I start wondering where they got off to. I call to find out they are on the west side US 1 and I have no idea where they are in order to guide them back to my place. They finally get my zip code correctly entered into the GPS and make it to my house. There is a lesson here: follow the directions given first. Use the GPS when you don't have a clue.

The next day, Salome & I play hookie and give Keith & Sheila a driving tour of Coconut Grove, Key Biscayne, and South Beach. We stop at Monty's on South Beach for sea food and margaritas. Meanwhile, John arranges to get tickets to the Eagles concert that night. After dropping off Salome at the office and doing a quick change at home, we pick up John and Debbie and head to the Bank Atlantic Center. On the way, we call running buddy Wayne to speak to him for the first time since his triple bypass operation. Wayne sounds in some discomfort, but we have an upbeat group conversation. We all eagerly await his return to good health and the road. Follow Wayne's recovery at http://atrampathonabroad.blogspot.com/

We've got nosebleed seats, but the show is good. We like the sound of the Eagles' new songs and love the hits. Back at home, I promise to wake my guests at 7 AM to drive to Miami for their 11AM flight back to Michigan. Its well after midnight when we all head to bed and I am asleep in a couple of minutes. I am awoken at 3:45 by my cell phone which is charging in my bathroom. I rush to pick it up and see that I missed a call that was from Keith. I figured I must have gotten cced on a text reminder for their flight. I don't want to wake them given the lack of sleep we've all had over the last few days. I decide I'll let them sleep until 7 AM and discuss it then.

Little did I know that Keith had checked on his flight before going to bed and found out that his flight was canceled. He and Sheila stayed up, dialed up a Delta representative and were finally re-booked on a 6 AM flight out of Miami. They had packed, left our place and were driving to Miami to return their rental car and get to the airport in time for their flight. The call had been meant as a voice-mail explaining their predicament. I only hope they were able to awake for their transfers.

I think Keith & Sheila had a good time in South Florida. But I get the feeling they felt a bit like the guy in the Eagle's song "Hotel California." They can check out, but they can never leave.