Whether under pressure at work, at home or via social expectations of a “new you”, a new year can really be bittersweet. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?” To never ask anyone that question. Okay, I’ve never been one to make resolutions myself, simply because I consider January 1st an arbitrary day to declare newness.  I wonder, did people redefine themselves in March before Julius Caesar’s adoption of the solar calendar? Too bad for humanity during that first year in the solar calendar – they had to fail twice within the same “year” at becoming new.

Either way, however jaded I’ve become in my view of resolutions, maybe I’ve made a couple for 2010. Here’s one: to cross a big-ticket item off my list. Luckily I have a loving wife to support me in my decision to do so.  In June I’ll travel to Kenya for a month to volunteer teach elephants. Wait, I might see elephants, but I’ll actually be teaching children. My mind is in Africa overload. I’ll live with a Kenyan family, partake in Kenyan cuisine, and hopefully run with Kenyan…runners.

So maybe resolutions aren’t all that bad, even if they sometimes manifest themselves in sweaty, overcrowded gyms and cell-phone-toting treadmill walkers. Other times, people get to go to Africa.

About a week ago, I found myself taking part in an act of idiocy – I registered for a 50-mile race in Wisconsin on October 24th.  Though it fits into my long term plan to ascend the trail running staircase to a 100-miler, I still am left wondering why anyone would do this. Time will only tell.  Well, time and pain…and hunger and blisters and dehydration and glycogen depletion. Seriously, what am I thinking?!?

During a long trail run with Scott this summer, we exchanged goals, both intellectual and physical, and I vocalized the principle that hangs like an umbrella over my life: to do something each year that extends beyond the realm of my past achievements.

Last year I ran my first 50k, and it was glorious.  I felt great throughout the race and even had enough left in the tank to kick at the end. A banner day, really. Though I can’t plan on that happening on any given day, I’m trying to convince myself that the only difference between a 50k and a 50mi race is a couple arbitrary letters.  And so go the mind games. Those very mind games will either wreak havoc or act as my savior during the race…though both will likely occur.

However, come race day, no matter how mentally prepared I am, I also must be physically prepared, and to that extent I have a lot of work to do. Hours of running, miles of pounding, gallons of sweating. Left, right, repeat as necessary. It’s so simple, yet so difficult. But at the end of the year, I’ll have peace of mind in knowing that I did something this year that I’ll never forget, at least one “moment” that can help define 2009.  Cool.

After being holed up in a plane for a bundle of hours, good ole Oakland welcomed us with open arms. Then we immediately left. Sorry, Oakland, you’re just a stepping stone to San Francisco.

Maybe out of habit from last summer’s trip to Europe, we hit the road on foot to explore The City. Because we stayed in Fisherman’s Wharf, we found no shortage of tourist traps. So, after a quick lunch on the water (shrimp sandwich & mussels), we continued our coastal walk toward Ghirardelli Square. Turns out they have respectable chocolate.

That night we Yelp’d to find a decent sushi joint and were pleasantly surprised by Sushi on the North Shore -Katsu. Now we’re hooked on Yelp, and its accompanying iPhone app.

The next day I was determined to run over the Golden Gate Bridge, even though we were staying 3.5 miles from it. The approach was magnificent, as the bridge stood half-masked by fog. After traversing the bridge both ways, my return to the coastal trail proved to be a bit tricky as construction workers had barracaded my original path. No problem, add yet another mile and back to the hotel.

Our day’s journey took us to Berkelely, where we meandered through UC’s campus and had substandard Thai food. No worries, though, Berkeley cuisine would be redeemed on the following day’s visit.

After heading back to SF, we decided to stroll through Pier 39 for some sights and smells. Smells being the beautiful scent of hundreds of sea lions basking on their floating docks. It almost rivals the inevitable “who farted?” smell on I-80 in Nebraska. *almost*

Probably the highlight of our time in The City was a restaurant suggestion from Rahul, a friend we’d now like to hire as our west coast travel agent. Green’s is an all-vegetarian restaurant located in Fort Mason, right on the water. Our Scottish server was a joy, and the food was out of this world. How could it get any better? Answer: half-prices bottles of wine. ‘Nuff said.

Stay tuned for our journey to, arrival in, and subsequent endulgence of Sonoma County.

And we’re off! Yes, maybe California is still but a glimmer of hope in our crazy lives, but we are a state closer during our layover in Denver.

This morning Al got home from work at about 1am, and it wasn’t until I programmed our coffee maker that I realized I could get 2.5 hours of sleep only if I laid down right then and fell asleep on my descent to the pillow. Our status can be summed up in the photo below.

Oh, and another thing – we’ll hopefully be blogging a little more along our journey through San Francisco (or “The City” as our west coast friends call it), and ultimately through wine country. However, we might be blogging solely from my phone. So let this be the first of hopefully many iPosts. And if I misspell a word or twenty, you’ll understand why (i.e. not because of the wine…probably).

Cheers!

Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to cross a big ticket item off my list.  And I didn’t just succeed, I ultra-succeeded.  Yes, it was my very first ultramarathon!! For the past few years, ever since I heard about people running farther than 26.2, it’s had an enticing lure. That gentle pull soon turned into ambitious curiosity, and a few mouse clicks later I was signed up for the North Face Endurance Challenge 50k in Wisconsin.

Because teaching doesn’t allot me the luxury of taking chunks of time off (well, at least three seasons a year), and because running 26.2+ doesn’t leave me with record breaking motivation to drive 8 hours back home, my mom & stepdad graciously decided to roadtrip with me to Wisconsin.

Even without considering the race, we all had a great time!  We laughed, we ate, we drank, and I almost cried.  More on that later. Race morning began not so bright and early at 5am.  And with a quick shower, bowl of oatmeal and coffee, we hit the road for the 20 minute drive from our hotel to Ottawa Lake.

Mom & Jerry at race start

The race atmosphere was nothing like a road marathon. It was fairly low-key, but with plenty to eat and plenty of stories to soak in with all the ultrarunners exchanging tales of blood, tears, blisters & victory. At 8am sharp, the race began with instructions to stick together until the course’s first highway crossing.  You’d never get road runners to obey these kind of instructions.

Race start

Although it was a brisk morning, it was perfect for us runners, and the course was beautiful! The path wove through Kettle Moraine State Forest, through heavily wooded areas, prairies, tall native grasses, and the Ice Age Trail.  Though never too brutal, some hills were definitely not runnable. The most common piece of advice I’ve heard & read is to establish a run/walk strategy throughout an ultra.  That is, maybe run 25 minutes & walk 5.  I don’t think I walked at all during the first 10-12 miles of the race.  At that point I deliberately started to insert some walking on the uphills while scarfing Clif Bars.  Mmmm, chocolate brownie…

Throughout the race I exchanged many words of encouragement, and chatted it up with fellow runners. Ultrarunners are definitely a chatty bunch, and this makes the race atmosphere much more enjoyable and less competitive. What also makes a race more enjoyable is spectator support, especially family support.  I’m officially naming Mom & Jerry uber-spectators. The plan was for them to hang around the first three aid stations at miles 1, 6 and 11, where the course wove back to the same aid station three times.  Then, I’d see them next at the finish. However, to my relieved surprised, they hit every single aid station except mile 16! One thing about having your mom cheer you on during such a long race is that you have to do some “mom” things.  Like pose for a picture with cheerleaders at mile 27.  Thanks Mom! :~)

Me & the cheerleaders at mile 27

The race was long, and I started to feel it after leaving Mom & Jerry (and the cheerleaders) at mile 27. But those feelings were put to death upon spotting a lady on a seemingly endless uphill.  Upon passing her she said, “Great job! Only 1.7 miles to go!”  And that was it.  I surged ahead and started running like I was running the mile in junior high.  I passed several runners during that last stretch, and as I crossed the finished line I think I choked on my own tears. If Allison had been able to make it to the race, I’d have been sobbing at the end.

The emotional uplift that follows the accomplishment of such a big ticket item is priceless.  But one thing’s for sure, I’ll never run my first ultra again.  But I will run my second.  And I’ll run longer. I’ll do many things I’ve never done before, because that’s what I enjoy most.  The challenges of the unknown, the freshness of new goals, the exhilaration of sweet victory.  Also, the presence of family & friends throughout all walks of life, cheering me on both in person and over the phone.

Victory! (and a medal to prove it)