Papi is number 1!

Dear Chicken Nugget and Garbanzo Bean,

First, let me start by explaining to the little one yet to be named that your mami and I tried a number of different things to call you. We settled on Care Bear because, well, mami loves Care Bears.

But, the other day, Nugget, who has been calling you "the baby" this whole time, called you "Garbanzo Bean" and that I like much better.

So, why is Papi writing about being number 1? Because today, I was!

As you'll come to learn, Papi and Mami like to do crazy athletic things like race each other in triathlons, swim in the early morning, run long distances before the sun comes up, and do yoga in 100+ degree rooms. However, we don't usually win things. We may compete against each other and win bragging rights but we don't win actual races against other people. Most of the time.

Back in 2005 I had signed up a friend for a Spring Couples Relay. It consisted of a Run, Bike, and Row. My friend dropped out at the last minute and I recruited a running club teammate as a substitute. We didn't think we had done that well, our rowing was a zig-zag across a Central Park lake, but as we walked away from the finish we heard our team name being called. Apparently we had come in Third Place in our Combined Age Group, 36-50. I had never won something so that little plaque meant a lot.

Nothing ever came close to that until last year. Your Uncle Bob, your Mami, and I signed up for a Scavenger Hunt race called the Challenge Nation. It was built so that at its most efficient, you ran a 5k. We had to run around New York City, finding clues, taking pictures, and getting strangers to do random things. When we made the final dash to the finish we were surprised to find that no one was there yet. The race officials looked up and told us we were the first group to finish. After a review of our pictures and time, we were awarded $100 each. First place at a race.

Then, today happened. As I train for a half-marathon in September, I realized last week that I was due to run a 5k race to test my legs. I found a small 5k at the last minute and signed up. There were 150 runners, small by NYC standards and race officials announced prizes for lots of age groups. As I eyed my fellow runners I estimated that a good number of them fell into my age group, 26-35.

The race took place in Van Cortland Park in the Bronx, on my favorite route in the city, a cross-country run through wooded trails. It's very hilly so I had wanted to start slow. As the horn went off I found myself in the lead pack, going faster than I wanted. However, I had spent the previous week running through hills in Missouri with your Uncle Jerry, during a week-long family reunion, so I thought I might be able to stay strong through the hills. And, I did!

I passed three runners in the lead group and maintained my distance from them. I didn't win the race but was pleasantly surprised to hear "Christian Ledesma" announced as the 1st place age group finisher, ages 26-35. As I was handed the medal, I felt that this was a good sign of things to come.

Like I said, our race history accomplishments don't usually extend beyond finishing a race so when we do win something, we celebrate.

Today, your Papi was number 1. I've carried my medal around all day long and, Nugget, you even wore it for a while.

The race was small but I worked hard for my medal. There's a lesson in there somewhere: probably that if you want to win races you have to find small races no one knows about...

Love you both,

Tu Papi
 

Your mom is a better athlete...

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday, your mom and I complete the 3rd Annual Staten Island Triathlon. Your mom, by the way, is a better athlete than the average person, including me. There, I said it.

We once competed in a duathlon (run-bike-run) two years ago where she beat me by a couple of minutes. That same Fall I beat her in another duathlon (run-bike-run) by a couple of minutes. This triathlon (1/3 mile swim - 12 mile bike - 4 mile run) was our third head-to-head competition. And she crushed me.

we ate a healthy plate of rice, beans, and veggies for dinner the night before our race

We woke up really early to drive down to Staten Island with your Abuela Betty helping us with our equipment and keeping you entertained. Although I was nervous, there was very little time to be nervous now that we've got you. A lot of our focus is on your well-being and comfort so it's a good distraction from race-day nerves.

It feels like we barely got set up when they called us to head down to the beach. Now, the swim is my weakest sport. I learned to swim at the age of 25. Your mom was on the High School swim team. She was also a lifeguard. So, heading into the swim, I took it easy.

I was surprised by how great it felt to swim in the choppy ocean water. I was slow, with people passing me left and right, but I was swimming without having to stop; that's a victory for me. I came out of the water a full three minutes behind your mom.

Heading to the bike I pedaled as hard as I could. We biked a 4-mile loop three times, so I could see you mom ahead of me, but I could never catch up. I managed to make up some time on the bike but not nearly enough for what was about to happen.

I consider myself a runner so I was confident that I could make up some time on the 4-mile run. However, after swimming and biking for over and hour, your legs feel like tree trunks. And mine did. For about four miles. Your mom, on the other hand, said she felt great. She sped through the run leaving me gasping for air behind her.

Your mom finished in 1hr48min26sec and I finished in 1hr54min45sec, a full 6+ minutes behind her.

you joined us to celebrate the finish

So, your mom has beaten me in two of our three athletic competitions. Of course, this doesn't end here. While discussing our triathlon over dinner your mom said, confidently, that she could beat me in a road race - my sport!

So, on September 17th, we'll be facing off in a 4-mile race.

If you're smart, you'll put your money on your mom crossing the finish line before me. If you're lucky, you'll get her athletic genes.


Still running,

Tu papa

when papi meets the ground

Dear Chicken Nugget,

After our snow day on Thursday, I had a hard time finding a place to run. There are huge piles of snow on the sidewalk and on every corner there's an adventurous obstacle of snow, ice, slush, and ginormous puddles.

Early this morning, before church, I decided to go out for my 5-mile "long" run.  For the next 12 weekends, I'll be running longer and longer as I reach for the half-marathon distance (13.1 miles).  With the temperatures going over the freezing mark and the sun breaking out this morning, I figured it would be a great day for a run. 

About half a mile in, after having to jump over puddles, climb hills of snow, and hop over patches of ice, I thought, "This is a great run. Can't wait to tell everyone about all the obstacle dodging I got to do."  Little did I know...

Running up a path in the park, I passed a lady with a small fluffy dog.  No biggie.  Literally.  Then, I saw a lady with two unleashed Pit Bulls.  Generally, I'm respectful of dogs.  I give them their space and prefer to not run near them.  However, this was a narrow path and the only way to continue was to come pretty close to those dogs. 

I slowed to a walk, held my gaze forward, hands down, and walked confidently forward showing that I was no harm to them.  The two dogs decided to come over to say an aggressive hello or to have me for breakfast.  One dog jumped up on my leg, with lips retracted, showing it's menacing sharp teeth.  The other dog came around and was about to do the same when the owner finally called out, "Lucy, Stop!"

Seriously? I was almost eaten alive by a dog names Lucy?  Great.  Luckily, Lucy and pal backed off and ran back to their owner.  I started running again feeling some scratches above my right knee where Lucy had jumped up.  But, I didn't think it was too bad and just kept going. 

I continued to enjoy my running game of snowy survival and was soon lost in thought.  About another half mile in, I was enjoying the sun warming my face . . .

. . . it's funny, when the world looks tilted at a 45-degree angle and you find  your arms flailing up in the air, the only thought that can cross your mind, is the obvious, "Oh $#!+, I'm about to fall" . . .

And, I did.  Hard.  I landed on my rights side, right on my hip.  I rolled over onto my belly and stayed down, cursing the ground, and assessing my injuries.  As I slowly got up, I noticed the huge patch of ice on the ground that I missed.  From across the street I heard a guy call out, "You OK?" 

"Yeah, I think so," I said, feeling my leg and hip to make sure there were no bones sticking out of my skin.

"I'm an ER doctor coming home from the hospital," he called back.  "I saw six fractures on my shift, three of them runners." 

I'm pretty sure I heard a slight laugh in his voice. 

I walked around for a bit, feeling things out.  He stayed to watch me for a bit. 

As I broke into a light jog for a bit, he asked, "Are you sure you're OK?"

"Yeah," I shakily called back.  There was no obvious pain, aside from the bruising kind you tend to get on the bone after a hard fall.

"All right.  Take it easy," he said and started back on his walk home. 

I still had a mile to go on my run.  I should go home, I thought.  Then I thought, no, get the mile done.  It can't get worse. 

I gingerly stepped over ice patches on the rest of my run, nothing heroic.  I made it home safe, or as safe as can be after a dog attack and hard fall.

In my six years of running I've never been attacked by a dog or fallen on ice.  I have fallen on a boardwalk by a beach trying to chase after your mom, but I'll save that story for another day. 

Twenty years from now, if you hear that I've fallen on an icy run, it'll probably involve a trip to the hospital and, possibly, surgery.  Thankfully, I'm still young enough that I can get up from a hard fall on my hip and keep going.

Please come visit me at the hospital.  Also, don't ever name a Pit Bull Lucy.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

zombies & cardio

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I love zombies.  They're scary and gruesome.  And scary.  And I love them.  

It probably has something to do with the fact that I was introduced to scary movies at an early age.  I love a good scary movie.  A good scary movie is like a roller coaster ride in the dark.  And, if the scary movies is about zombies, even better.

Sometimes I'll even dream about zombies.  In these dreams I'm fighting them, running away from them, and genuinely getting an adrenaline rush out of it.  Zombie dreams are the best.

So, today when you and your mom went out to meet up with other mommies and babies, I stayed home and put on Zombieland.  I tried watching that movie with your mom once.  She didn't last beyond the opening credits.  She doesn't get scary movies the way I do.  She doesn't dream about zombies either.

As I write this letter I'm watching the main character run away from zombies. 

Yet another good reason to train hard.  We also own the Zombie Survival Guide, so no worries.  FYI, as soon as you learn to walk we're gonna teach you how to run.  Rule #1: Cardio.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

BHAGs

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I've got a problem.  I love to run.  But, during the cold, winter months I can't get myself to run on my own; at least not regularly and as often as I'd like.  Running in the freezing cold is hard, not to mention stupid.  

This year my winter running has improved by coaching my Young Runners Club.  It's also helped to be inspired by you.  I have been getting out, just not as often as I'd like. 

I can always do better.  So, in my attempt to get into better shape this year I've set a big goal to run the 13.1 NYC half-marathon.

Setting a big goal is a sure-fire way for me to train harder.  When I first started running I set a big goal to run a marathon.  I went from barely being able to run 2 blocks to completing 26.2 miles in nine months.  In my almost seven years as a runner, I've  had to repeatedly set race goals to inspire me to train harder.  Without a race as an end-goal, I'll take things a little too easy.

I've also become a sort of charity runner.  I like to use my running to raise money and awareness for certain causes.  Over the past few years I've raised money for St. Jude's Childrens Hospital, the Lance Armstrong Foundation, the American Heart Association and this year, World Vision.

By setting a big goal and running for a charity I ensure that I stick to a training program.

Today when I go out and run in freezing temperature I'll know that there are many reasons for me to keep going: you and your mom, my health, people in Africa, and simply getting to the finish line.
 
Speaking of finish line, I've gotta go.  Now.  So cold.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

published

Dear Chicken Nugget,

You are now four months old and making giant leaps in your awareness of the world.  You recently started watching with interest what your mom and I do with our hands - things like writing, typing, and eating.  It's fun watching you try to figure out what we're doing and we know that soon you're going to want to do the same things.

Yesterday, at lunch, you were sitting on my lap and you reached out for the bowl of pesto pasta I was eating.  You got a good grip and pulled it towards you.  We had to tug pretty hard to get the bowl of pasta away from you.  It'll be fun when you can start having solid foods of your own.  Soon, very soon.

Sometimes when I type on the computer and you are on my lap, you reach out and tap the keys on the keyboard.  I'm sure my writing needs the help anyway.

Actually, I learned early this morning that something I wrote was published on a blog on the Runner's World magazine site!

I wrote an essay detailing how I started a running club at my school.  The last time I wrote anything sports related for any publication, I was writing for the Sports section of my High School newspaper.  It's been a long time. 

So, your father wrote something that tons of strange people will be reading.  Although for this particular piece, you did not help me, I'm sure that as you grow up and your little arms get longer, the banging on the keyboard is going to translate into someone out there getting an errant email.  Maybe it'll even get published.

Looking forward to reading you my writing and to reading yours.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

asthma

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I went out for another run tonight.  The wind did indeed bring friends to try and slow me down, freezing temperature was on hand to show me a good time and snow made an appearance.

As I took deep breaths of the crisp cold air, I remembered that for almost half of my life I couldn't do what I was doing at that moment.

When I was three years old I was diagnosed with asthma.  I had asthma that was triggered by allergies, cold, and exercise.  I had to get steroid shots once a month and would use an inhaler whenever necessary; as I remember it, I used it often.

And then there were the Emergency Room visits.  I remember being taken to the ER on many occasions due to a severe asthma attack.  It always started with some coughing, then some wheezing in my lungs, and slowly I felt as if my lungs thickened to the point of only being able to allow a tiny bit of air in at a time.

I would take a couple of puffs of my inhaler and wait.  I would try to steady my breathing.  My mom would take breaths with me and massage my back.  Sometimes it would go away.  Sometimes I ended up in the ER.

Once, sometime in the fifth grade, I had an asthma attack in the morning.  It just so happened that it was the morning of the City Wide Math Test.  My mom asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital.  I told her I wanted to go to school to take my test.  So, she took me to school and waited in the Main Office for me while I went to take the test.  I don't remember how long those tests took back in the day but it felt like five minutes.  My guess is I rushed through it just to be able to get out of there.

My mom immediately hauled me off to the ER where they determined I was having such a bad attack and lacking so much oxygen that they admitted me to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.  I was frightened.

The staff was incredibly friendly but I was surrounded by kids of all ages hooked up to machines in different stages of serious illness.  There was a constant hum of machines, puffing of ventilators, and beeps from heart monitors.  I had nightmares almost every night I was there.  Five nights total.

Honestly, I never thought the asthma would go away.  We had a next door neighbor who was in her 50s or 60s who was always being taken to the hospital with asthma attacks.  That always scared me.

At the age of 14, as a freshman in high school, I had a pretty bad asthma attack that landed me in yet another ER overnight.  And then, it went away.

For the last 16 years I have not had a single asthma attack, thank God. I still keep an inhaler around just in case I ever feel the symptoms of an attack.  So far I've only had to use it about once a year and only for very mild symptoms.

When I first started to run six years ago and it got close to winter, I was scared of going out.  My first marathon was in 22 degree weather but I ended up taking two months off after that -- too scared to go back out in the cold.  When I did finally run in the cold I felt my chest tightening.  But, slowly, the more I did it and the better prepared I was (wearing the right gear also helps), it became easier.

Tonight, as I ran in windy, snowy 28 degree weather, I thought about how a younger version of me could never do what I was doing.  I hope that it's gone for good.  And, I hope that your lungs are stronger than mine. 

Judging by the volume of your cries, so far so good.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

when the wind tells you to stop...

Dear Chicken Nugget,

A couple of months ago I wrote about how I changed my diet for you.  And, for the most part, it's true.

Unfortunately the holidays came.  It's hard to eat a low fat plant-based diet when there's a beautiful, juicy turkey inviting you to enjoy it.  Combine holiday eating with a lack of exercise and it turns out my cholesterol is high again.

Having a family history of heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes, a high cholesterol worries me.  Since finding out a couple of days ago, I've recommitted to a low fat plant-based diet.

And, just as importantly, I've created a set of fitness goals to accompany the diet.  I've signed up for three small races for early 2011 to help get me back on track.

So, today I went out for a run.  Man, was it hard!

A couple of months ago I started coaching a Young Runners Club at my school.  I'm leading fifteen students in kindergarten through second grade through stretches, relay racing games, and some slow and steady running that amounts to no more than a mile a day.  I'm running about a mile a day! Just one!

This, from a guy who has run two marathons (26.2 miles)!

I decided that today was going to be the day that I ran two miles.  In the morning there was a strong hard rain that immediately made my decision easy.  Can't run.  But then, as if daring me to go out, the rain stopped mid-afternoon.  I looked out the window and not a drop was falling.  I looked for signs of wind, perhaps looking for another excuse, and there were none.

So, I told your mom that I was going for a run.  She, always super supportive of my health, told me to go ahead.  Then, it took me thirty minutes to get out of the house.  Not that there was anything pressing keeping me, I just kept finding something else to do.

When I finally stepped outside, I felt great.  My legs were moving, my breathing was good, and the weather seemed to cooperate.

As I ran towards Astoria Park I thought about how easy it felt.  Then I came upon a downed tree.  It looked like it had been chopped down and there were massive pieces of trunk laying on the side walk.  I slowed to a walk trying to figure out a way around it.  Not a hard obstacle to overcome but it was the beginning of the doubts.

After walking around the tree and starting back up I started feeling the wind kick up again.  Not only was the wind picking up, it was blowing right at me.  I wanted to stop.  The wind was strong.  Just then an older gentleman, probably in his 60s, ran by me. I kept running.

As I approached the one mile mark I thought about walking back home.  But, no.  Couldn't.  That wouldn't be enough.  So, I turned back at the one mile point, still running.

Making my way back home it suddenly started raining again.  There was the doubt again.  Maybe I should hop on a bus.  Then a strong gust of wind blew in my direction.  I swear the wind was telling me to stop.  For a second, I did.  I stopped.

I was about half a mile away from home and I thought, well, a mile and a half is still more than you've done in a while.  I looked at the time and realized that we had guests coming over in about thirty minutes.  I had to run home if I stood any chance at showering before the guests arrived.

I started running again.  The rain gave up but the wind didn't.  The wind was adamant about me stopping.  I almost listened to it.  But, I didn't.  I kept thinking about you, your mom, and my health, and I kept running.  By the time I rounded the corner to our block I was running pretty fast.  And I was tired.  It's hard to run against the wind.  The run was hard.

As if mocking me one last time, a breeze blew the outside door into my ankles as I stepped into the house.  &*^%!!  The wind is now my nemesis.  I'm sure it'll try to get to me again.  And, maybe it'll bring its friends freezing rain and blizzard along.  I've met those two before and I've still run through them. I can do it.

I ran two miles today, Nugget.  Two.  That's all.  I had every excuse in my head to stop.  But, that's all it was: in my head.  There are always days that are going to be too cold, too hot, too windy, too busy, and too tired.  All these excuses are going to be whispering in my ear to not go out for a run or just to stop.

But for every excuse, there's good reason to keep going: my health.

On the last line of my RoadID it says, "I run to add another day."  Really, I run to run to add another day to my life AND to add life to my days. 


Step one: Run!

Step two: Ignore the &*^%!! wind.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

badass grizzly warriors of Astoria

Dear Chicken Nugget,

This afternoon when I came home from work I found your mom on the couch, holding you, and looking more tired than I've ever seen her.  She communicated in a series of twitches and grunts that she was tired, hadn't napped at all today, and needed sleep now.

I've been to Yellowstone National Park a couple of times and have read the manuals on what to do when you encounter a grizzly bear.  Basically, you assess the situation and your surroundings, you calmly and slowly back away, and you keep your pepper spray ready to shoot.

That's how I treated this encounter.  I swooped you up, placed you in the Ergo carrier, and slowly backed out of the room.  I took you for a nice long walk so that the momma bear could get her nap.

As we walked down the streets of Astoria, you sleeping soundly at my chest, I noticed another gentleman carrying his baby in a carrier.  As he walked by he smiled and nodded.  I nodded back.  Then, a couple of blocks later, another guy with an Ergo walked by, baby at his chest, and dry cleaning folded over one arm.  In the hour and forty minutes that you and I spent zig-zagging our way through the neighborhood I counted five guys carrying their babies.

But, here's the interesting part: they were carrying their babies alone.  Somehow, between 5:25pm and 7:05pm six guys from the same neighborhood found themselves carrying their babies in some sort of baby carrier with no partner in sight.

It made me wonder if they too had encountered a sleep-deprived momma bear back in the home cave.  This is going to sound corny, but every time I passed one of those guys there was a nod or wave exchanged.  It's like we belonged to a club that the rest of the neighborhood wasn't cool enough to know about.

Early on in my running career when I was stupidly starting to train for my first marathon, I experienced something similar.  When running in New York City you often end up running by another runner.  This is no big deal.  It happens many times during a run.  Sometimes you make eye contact and acknowledge one another and sometimes they run by as if you barely exist.  It's New York, that's just how it is.

But, on one cold, rainy Fall day I had to go out for a long run and the weather wasn't supposed to get any better; I either did my long run in the rain or I waited a day and ran my long run in the rain.  So, I suited up and got myself going.  As I ran that day something special started to happen.  Fools Folks running by, and there were few that day, actually waved and called out a "hey!" or "hello."  It's as if we belonged to some ridiculous cold rain running club.  It made me feel a little badass.

Of course, this...

...doesn't look badass, Nugget.  But it is.

What looks like just a regular guy carrying his baby around the neighborhood is actually a warrior who probably managed to narrowly escape the charge of a momma grizzly.

At least, that's how I felt.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa



[PS - Readers of Dear Chicken Nugget may have noticed an ad for BabyEtte on the side bar.  We love their products!  Although I mentioned carrying Nugget in the Ergo today, we also have a wrap and a sling from BabyEtte and we love wearing our little Nugget around the house and 'hood.  They're a small family-owned business and we highly recommend them for your baby-wearing needs.]

I changed my diet for you

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Heart disease runs in our family, at least my side.  I've been diagnosed with a high cholesterol since childhood and it reached its peak in adulthood.  The problem, besides my own body's inability to control its cholesterol production, is diet.

Your Grandma Betty is an awesome cook as you will someday discover.  But, the Ecuadorian diet typically consists of white rice, a meat, and some sort of delicious sauce (made of corn, plantain, or oils and spices.)  It's delicious stuff and will always taste like home to me.  But it lacks a variety of vegetables and includes too much white starch and animal fat.  Tasty, but not great for a family that is prone to diabetes and heart disease.

I've been battling with high cholesterol for at least eight years.  As a young bachelor, straight out of college, and starting to teach, I was told by the doctor that I had a high cholesterol.  High enough that I had to go on medication or do something about it - like diet and exercise.  First I tried diet, which worked somewhat.  Then I tried exercise, which started my life as a runner, and that helped some.  But, failing to combine the diet and exercise together made the cholesterol stay high.

It all reached its epic peak in January 2010 when I went in for a routine checkup at the doctor's office.  He was a new doctor and hearing about my family's history of heart disease he ran the usual tests.  The results were disastrous.

My cholesterol was high and, even worse, there were several other indicators in the blood work that showed that I was at high risk for a heart attack.  There I was, 29 years old, having just found out that your mom was pregnant with you and being told that if I was 55 years old I'd be in serious, even deadly, trouble.

I immediately got to work doing research on cholesterol, diet, exercise, and magic potions; anything to ensure that I got my cholesterol down and lived a healthy life for you and your mom.  I ended up finding a book called Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease by Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn.  In it he describes what the body does when you eat a diet high in fats and animal products.  Essentially, you get heart disease.  Although most doctors recommend that your cholesterol be kept under 200, Dr. Esselstyn recommends that you stay under 150.  And, the quickest way to do that is through a low-fat plant-based diet.

I started the diet almost as soon as I finished reading the book.  I also found out that a friend of ours from Nebraska, Bryan, had started a similar lifestyle change.  It went well and the numbers dropped dramatically.  I was training for the NJ Half-Marathon, raising money for the American Heart Association, and all was well.  I was put on medication as a precaution but the doctor said that if the numbers continued to drop we could try without the meds.

But, slowly, I became overly confidant in my numbers and I started introducing foods that I should have been avoiding.  Then, an old running injury prevented me from running the NJ Half-Marathon.  Then, summer happened.  As the excuses piled up, I lost control of my diet.  Then, you came.

For the last 27 days I've been staring at you in awe.  You are incredible.  I love you tremendously and would do anything for you; including changing my lifestyle so that I can enjoy many healthy years with you.

So, I'm back to my low-fat plant-based lifestyle.  I won't say that I'll follow the diet perfectly - there's always a mistake here and there.  But, I want those mistakes to be rare.  This isn't just about me and my cholesterol anymore.  It's also about you and your mom.

Recently, former President Bill Clinton told CNN that he has lost 24 lbs following the diet that Dr. Esselstyn writes about.  He's trying to reverse his heart disease and live long enough to see his grandkids grow up.

That's a wonderful goal.  It's mine too.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

our feet

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I have the terrible burden of telling you about our feet.  I say our feet because, even though it's a little early, it looks like you inherited my feet.  Your feet look like miniature versions of mine.  Sorry about that.

My feet are a size 10.5, sometimes even an 11.  They are ridiculously flat and carry long skinny toes.  Actually my second toes are as long as the pinkies on my hands.  My littlest toe (the pinky toe) has a perpetual hangnail.  And, due to the last six years of running, I also bear some rough spots, callouses, and other marks of a runner's foot.

Despite all this, I think I have some pretty good looking feet.  Your mom disagrees.  She seems to think my feet look like built-in flippers. 

Mom can get away with it, but don't let anyone else tell you that your feet are ugly, abnormal, or inhuman.  Sure, they're not biomechanically efficient and may prevent you from becoming an Olympian but I think you have mighty fine looking feet.

Plus, your arches may still form in a year or two.  So, unlike your dad, you still have a chance.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

I am a Spartan!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today I completed The Spartan Race.  Your dad is a Spartan (at least according to some race organizers who made loads of money off wannabe weekend warriors).

Your mom came out to cheer and my friend, Bob, came out to race as well.  It was a fun race with 14 obstacles.  I climbed an 8-foot wall with no help (though it did take a couple of tries).  I ran up and down sand dunes.  I climbed a cargo net, hopped some 4-foot hurdles, and crawled through mud under barbed wire.  There was also some spear throwing, wall climbing sideways, and climbing a greased wall.  Oh, and there was the part where two huge guys dressed as Spartans tried to beat me with padded jousting sticks right before crossing the finish line.

I hope they keep this race around long enough that you'll be able to join me.  I'd love to run alongside you.  And then one day, we can both be Spartans.  Together.


Prepare for glory,

Tu papa

Meeting Meb

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday I met Meb Keflezighi.  Meb is currently the best long-distance runner in America and I've been a fan for over six years now.

Meb was born in Eritrea and his family moved to the United States when he was 12.  He won the USA Cross Country Championships in 2001, 2002, and 2009.  In the 2004 Summer Olympics he finished second in the marathon and won the silver medal.  Last year, in 2009, he won the NYC Marathon in 2 hours 9 minutes and 15 seconds.

So, yeah, he's a pretty incredible guy.  He was in NYC to talk about the start of his MEB Foundation. MEB stands for Maintaining Excellent Balance and he plans on using his foundation to support various causes in health, fitness, and education in both the USA and Eritrea.  I'm looking forward to seeing what his foundation will accomplish.

Well, little nugget, I met one of my athletic heroes yesterday and it was a pretty cool experience.  He spent quality time with each individual fan and was very friendly and patient with everyone wanting pictures and autographs.  I had a good conversation with him and even asked him about what he has for breakfast before a big race.  Yes, your dad is obsessed with what the big athletes have for breakfast.  Meb's answer?  Homemade bread.  Keep it by your bedside in case you get hungry at night, he added.

So, nugget, if homemade bread is on daddy's nightstand, it's because I run to win.

I hope one day you get to run to win.

Eternally yours,

Your papa

your father may be wrong sometimes

Dear Chicky,

In my last letter I made a prediction that Meb Keflezighi would win the Boston Marathon in 2010.  I was wrong. 

You'll find out soon enough in your life that your father may be wrong sometimes.  That's OK.  I'll admit to being wrong every now and then.

I was wrong about the Mets winning the World Series in 2000.  They didn't.  I was wrong about my winning the lottery on a number of occasions.  I was wrong about me becoming a New York City Councilman by the age of 30.  So, yes, my predictions are wrong sometimes. 

But, I've been right on a lot of things - the important ones at least.  I've been right about my choice of profession.  Teaching is as fulfilling as it comes.  I've been right about my being able to run and complete a marathon.  Twice.  I've been right with the person I chose to be my life partner - your mom. 

So, yeah, I may be wrong on a few things here and there.  But on the important stuff, I'm pretty dead-on.  Or, very, very lucky. 

I hope my luck rubs off on you, little nugget. 


Eternally yours,

Your papa

Team Mom

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I just finished reading an article about long-distance runner, Meb Keflezighi, and his preparation for last year's NYC Marathon (which he won) and this year's Boston Marathon.  It made me jealous of all the wonderful treatment professional athletes seem to get.

Keflezighi had a stress fracture, followed by some severe muscle fiber-something-or-other, and was nursed back to health by a team of professionals that looked after him almost 24/7 for several months.  Today I felt knee pain.  I put my feet up on the couch.  That's all I get.

Anyway, as I was reading about Team Meb and their singular focus to get him back to the starting line healthy, I realized that I am basically the captain of Team Mom.

Your mom is carrying the most precious thing in the world to us - you!  And my job is to make sure that she is healthy and happy.  I am the gatekeeper.  I am the bodyguard.  I am the personal assistant, the head chef, the massage therapist, the personal researcher, the provider of water and lotion. 

My job is to get your mom to the starting line so that she can get you to yours.

So, although I would still love to be a professional athlete some day (ha!) and be pampered and looked after by a team of experts, I can't help but love the role that I'm in right now.  I am Team Mom.

Looking forward to meeting you at the starting line.


Eternally yours,

Your papa


PS - Since you'll be reading this in the future, I predict that Meb Keflezighi wins the Boston Marathon in 2010. 

your dad runs like stupid - Part 1

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I wanted to write briefly about my running.  If all goes well and I manage to keep it up after your birth, then you'll see me run off every now and then and come back looking like death.  Please don't be scared when this happens. 

I started running at the age of 24, six years ago, when my doctor told me I needed to exercise more.  At first I could barely run two blocks.  No joke.  Little by little I increased my running, first by just a few blocks, then a mile at a time.  It took several months for me to be able to run four miles without stopping.  And, by the end of those runs I would basically collapse in a heap of uselessness.

Soon after being able to complete four miles, I decided to run the NYC Marathon.  When you grow up I'll make sure to point out how stupid this decision is.  You should not ever run a marathon with less than a year's running experience.  But, your daddy can be silly and he started training anyway. 

Having missed getting picked by the NYC Marathon lottery, I signed up for the Marathon in the Parks in Bethesda, MD.  I had lots of friends in the area at the time and thought it would be a scenic marathon.

Around this time I started feeling so athletic that I began playing sports like softball and ultimate frisbee.  I wasn't great at either but at least I could run across the field without getting winded.  Then, the unthinkable happened.  I twisted my ankle twice playing these sports.  A month before the marathon.

Needless to say, the marathon was a bad idea.  But, your dad can be stupid a little stubborn, and I ran it anyway.  Although it was a beautiful marathon - through the woods, with deer and racoons watching the silly runners - it was a hard one too.  There were lots of hills and by Mile 10, I started feeling pain.  I continued on, having to walk a little around Miles 15,18,20,22,23,24 and finished my first marathon in 5hours 37minutes and 46seconds. 

It took me months to recover from that.  But you know what?  I'm glad I did it.  It changed my life.  I started running for good and it became part of my lifestyle.  Now, when I don't run I feel like a slob.  I'll write in another post about the health benefits, meditative aspects, and all the other positive stuff that comes with running. 

But for now, just know that I'm a runner and plan on being one until my legs can no longer carry me.  Oh, and try to keep your distance after daddy runs, papa smells.


Eternally yours,

Your papa

it's OK to turn back

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday I went out for a nine-mile run and didn't finish it.  I want you to know that it's OK to turn back.

Nebraska has had its first couple of days of warm weather since we arrived and the tree and weed pollen is picking up.  Something you'll learn is that your dad has allergies.  My bet is that you probably will too.  Sorry 'bout that.

But, this is not about allergies.  It's about knowing that it's OK to not finish something if it means pain or illness.

Running is part of my regular exercise and pushing through pain or illness can lead to injury.  So, If I'm not breathing well, running with an awkward gait, or feeling pain in any way, I've got to stop. 

Little nugget, if ever you feel pain or feel sick feel free to stop what you are doing.  Go home.  Rest up.  Try again later.

Unfortunately the pollen count here in Bellevue, Nebraska has gone from High yesterday to Very High today.  Not sure a run is going to happen today.  I'll probably try, but if it doesn't feel right, I may just turn back.  Nine miles is a long ways to go when you're not breathing well.

Plus, there's always tomorrow.


Eternally yours,

Your papa