Tami’s Perspective on St. George Marathon 2011

More than just a Run

October 2010 I signed up for the Runner Series where I would run 2 small races to an automatic St. George Marathon run.  So in January 2011, I ran a 5k and in March ran the Spectrum 10k.

Having been recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I entered this race more determined than any other race I had ever run! I wanted to run with the Fatsos and have fun, but the lack of preparation until just 3 weeks prior, made it perhaps one of my hardest. 

It was difficult recovering from my surgery in August.  I had been training for the race up until about May, but by the beginning of June it became apparent that all of my training was to no avail as I was diagnosed with cancer of the Appendix.  While this was hard to swallow, for some goofy reason, the thought of not being able to run my marathon was even harder to swallow. But I was more determined than ever when my surgeon said, “Well, you won’t be running any marathons this year”.

Looking back, there were several factors that motivated me to start and finish this race. 

One of my main inspirations was my daughter. When you have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, you have to take advantage of an opportunity.  One of those opportunities was presented to me by my daughter Cali when she suggested that we run the race together.  I could see and feel a determination, “Way down Deep” in her eyes and heart and I wasn’t going to let her down….....Now it was about us, not just me.

Another motivating factor took place the night we were having porch drink down at grandmas.  One or both of the Fatsos was wearing a shirt with the inscription, “LIVE like you BELIEVE”. I told them I loved the shirt and even more the verbiage and asked where I could get one.  Fatso said he had a few left from youth conference and so Alice and I went over to pick one up.  While there, I shared with Alice the heaviness that was in my heart and how sad I was that I couldn’t run this year with the Fatsos.  She shared a documentary about a boy who had lost his parents in a fire and although he survived, 75% of his body was severely burnt.  He went on to say, “I am not my body”- I said, “Yeah….I am not my body either!"  It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog…and I still had that internal determination.  Alice said, “Tami you could at least start the race and do the best you can, you don’t need to finish.” So with that, and the two new additions to the “Fatso Running club”, Alice and He Who Shall Not be Named, I had new found Hope.  I started sneaking out for my midnight 3 mile walk.  The next night a slow jog and I thought, “Hey maybe I really could still run this race.”

 Another inspirational piece took place at grandmas. Again while sharing with all, Fatso reminded me of the Las Vegas Ragnar. As a group we all rallied together, but when it was our turn to run, we were let out of the group vehicle and we were then on our own.  He then slapped the Ragnar band around my arm and said, “This is your leg”.  While I believe he was suggesting I take the necessary measures to heal, I interpreted that healing to be a mental healing. 

The race of life is much like a marathon.  I’ve heard it said that the race is not always to the swift, but to those who keep on running…Physical, Mental, Spiritual and it took all three components for me to begin, run and finish my race.  I was very aware of my physical limitations; No training, recovering from surgery to get my weight and strength back to normalcy, and then the lack of sleep from the Wonder of it all.

As I started up the hill, about four-five miles in, Alice came running from behind, asked where I was hurting and I said, “Everywhere”.  Drawing on the strength provided by the thoughts of knowing my daughter, friends, niece, and nephews were all ahead of me, I was able to hang on.  As I finally neared the finish, I was so inspired by those still cheering, us being the last dogs standing, or barely moving, on.  I just might have met my goal to cross the finish line under 6 hours if I had not taken the time to thank those who were still cheering, one who was crippled and sitting in a wheel-chair, and all the others who provided cold water, encouragement and assistance. But I also would have missed the part that made this race the most meaningful; I could not have finished alone.  And it was people like that who made people like me go on to cross the finish line. 

So to all of you …. I send a Great Big THANKS, from the bottom of my Heart ….I could not have done this without you and I Loved it!

25 Seconds

On the first Saturday of October thousands of runners from nearly every state converge on the city of St. George. It’s been a tradition in Dixie now for 35 years. I (the old man) signed up again this year for a second attempt to run the marathon. My first attempt was in my opinion a complete success. I wanted to run a Boston Qualifying time. The standard for my age group was three hours and thirty minutes. I crossed the line in 3:24 and I smiled for days. I had many ask, are you going to run Boston. The answer was always the same, not this year, maybe next year.


I signed up for the St George Runners series which assured me a spot in the next marathon the
Monday morning after running and the preparation began. Although the next marathon was 363 days away I didn't wait. I had a job to do, I knew how to do it, and only I could do it. That’s one of the things I love about running, it’s up to you and only you. Sometime during my training that year I learned of a new standard for qualifying for the Boston Marathon. The minimum standard now is 5 minutes faster, and those running 20 minutes or 10 minutes faster get to sign up first.


I decided to try running 10 minutes faster than the minimum standard. I felt that would assure me a spot in Boston. My new goal time became 3 hours and 15 minutes. I designed an elaborate plan so as to best meet my goal. I worked hard and soon found myself boarding the bus at 5:00 am along with seven of my friends all wearing our Fatso Running Club shirts. Our shirts this year were designed to honor of one of our members. We approached the starting line, the gun sounded, we were off and running, each running with his or her own goal in mind. I crossed the finish line in 3 hours, 15 minutes and 25 seconds. I failed. I missed my goal by 25 seconds, which averages out to less than 1 second per mile. I was angry, frustrated and wanted to hit something, but I was so tired I could hardly stand. I had no energy left. I ran well but hit the dreaded wall at mile 23.


After eating and drinking so I wouldn’t pass out I headed for the massage tent. My toes and back hurt fiercely and I felt that I had somehow earned the right to a massage. Maybe a good rub down would ease my frustration. I had convinced myself that the 25 seconds had been taken from me; after all I had been training for 365 days. I stood in line at the massage tent and complained to anyone who would listen. I missed it by 25 seconds. What a tragedy! After waiting for what felt like an hour I was pointed to an empty table and my every muscle smiled during the massage.


I started to leave the tent and a wonderful man sitting in a wheelchair raised his prosthetic arm so as to get my attention, and asked me with an infectious smile, “So, how was your race?” I drew in a big breath so I could infect my next victim with my 25 second failure story. I was about to tell my new friend my sad story when he turned his wheelchair towards me and I noticed that both of his legs were gone. With no legs and a prosthetic arm he continued his smile and waited for my reply. I thought for a moment, and then replied with a thankful heart, “My race went well and I ran my fastest marathon yet.” (Which was true) He congratulated me and we parted company. I left the tent and was overcome with emotion. I was changed. My time in the massage tent was not wasted. My muscles received some much wanted attention, but my soul received a much needed lesson. So the next time someone asks, how was your race? Remember how wonderful it is that our legs are not gone and that we can run. Maybe we didn’t run as fast as we wanted to, or as fast as most of the other runners, but we got to run. We can
run. We can run. God Bless us everyone. God Bless our every run!

Goin' South - St George Marathon

So the Old Man and I are commandeering the troops down to St George. Actually Alice took over the wheel so I can blog. She’s doing her best to keep up with the Old Man (he doesn’t drive like he’s old). He drives like he runs - faster than most. We’re rolling past Nephi and He Who Shall Not be Named just drove up behind us. Oh, they’re stopping. Potty break.

It’s been a strange couple of weeks. Tapering down from your training program is always interesting. It’s like my body starts going through withdrawals. My muscles twitch and I get all these phantom pains. I feel something weird in my muscles and I start thinking, “Uh oh, what’s that. I must have pulled something. I better ice.” So this time I didn’t taper quite as much. Actually, my plan was to run more than I did but life got in the way. That’s probably a good thing ‘cuz you gotta be rested and ready for a marathon.

The strange part had nothing to do with the taper. See, the Twins are not going south with us to run the marathon. Crazy, huh. I mean these knuckleheads are so tough they’d finish a marathon on bloody stumps if they had to. In May at the Ogden marathon the Twin was having trouble with his calf during training. He rested extra before the race and ran anyway. By the end of the race he had torn his calf muscle and limped over the finish line - but he wasn’t about to stop. He went to the doctor a couple weeks later and he couldn’t believe he just ran a marathon. 

So Fatso did something to his hip. We went on our last 10 mile run about 13 days ago and he woke up the next morning in so much pain he could hardly walk. He’s been to the chiropractor several times to get straightened out and it just keeps popping out of place. It’s a fluke I tell ya. I’m convinced the man upstairs is involved. It just can’t be explained any other way. Fatso called me Wednesday ballin’ about how he can’t run and I told him, “. . . ya gotta quit worrying about it. Maybe Someone is trying to protect you or your family from something bad.” 

Have you been talkin’ to my wife? I know you talked to her.

No, I swear. I thought that two or three times. I think there’s a reason you can’t run. 

Shut up. I know you talked to her. She said the same thing last night.

I didn’t. Just take it for what it’s worth Fatso.

Then on Thursday Fatso’s wife called. She had the same impression and told Fatso about it the night before. She prayed that Fatso would find know there was a reason he couldn’t run the marathon. So when I said the same thing she was sure that was her answer. Crazy, huh. 

So we’re all bummed out that Fatso can’t run with us but we’re movin forward and makin plans for the race. Callin each other to make sure we got this or that; and making arrangements for dinner and stuff. Then we all get this text from the Twin - saying he can’t go.

This caught us all totally off guard cuz we were makin plans just a couple hours before. I couldn’t believe it. I was worried about what went so wrong so quickly. So I called up the Twin to see what was up and what I could do to help. 

Nothing. I couldn’t get anything out of him. Only that it was important enough that he couldn’t leave. I asked what I could do to help but that didn’t go anywhere either. I respect him enough to not pry and left it at that.

It’s going to be different running without the Twins. But you know - the marathon is just the measuring stick to see how productive your training was. The race is grueling and painful; anticlimactic at best. The training is the fun part. We laugh, make fun of each other (and practically everyone we see), push each other, tick each other off, and argue over the best program to improve our time. The marathon is just one day out of many. 

There is still a good sized Fatso crew and we’re gonna have a lot of fun. Tami’s running - cancer or no cancer. She has inspired us all and our Fatso Running Shirts are a tribute to her. We’ll wee how it goes.

I'm not addicted. I can quit anytime.

Oh my heck Fatso! All the heavy lifting is done for this marathon. There are only three more weeks until race day and it’s time to taper down. This part drives me crazy. Cuz’ you know, you’ve been working hard and feeling like you’re really doing something. Then it’s time to stop - or at least slow way down; and I get all antsy. Then you start to get nervous for the race, with no way to work out the anxiety. It’s a conundrum I tell ya.

We’ve had some fun and worked hard. We stuck with our routine for most of our training. Which took a little faith. We departed from what made sense in our little minds and decided to go with the experts. Between what we believed our bodies can handle and what the experts say; we determined that Intervals, tempo runs and endurance runs were a good recipe for getting faster. Then based on our best guess of the fan-dangled V-dot calculation we determined the paces at which to run each workout. Who knows how it will turn out. 

A week ago we headed to City Creek again. It was the Twins, the Old Man, myself, and He Who Shall Not Be Named. What with all the banter, He Who Shall Not Be Named really wanted to run City Creek. So we met him downtown and had a nice run. It was a real confidence builder for all of us. The weather was perfect and we had a great time - even managed to avoid any clashes with low-hanging branches (see Whip-sawwed in SLC).

Saturday was a good run but a tough one. Who would expect anything less for our final long run. I was worried because I was planning on going camping with the brothers and wasn’t sure how I would fit it in. The Old Man and the Twins decided to go on Friday night, but I couldn’t do that cuz’ I had to get my boys up to the hills to enjoy some quality time with the brothers. Lucky for me because as I was stewing over what to do, He Who Shall Not Be Named called me and said, “Hey, what do you think about running from Lyman Lake to the Cabin? It’s about 18 miles and I’m sure it would be beautiful.” The perfect solution to such a vexing problem.

I was at the office a little longer than I hoped but I got things taken care of and headed home. After packing the essentials (garmin, heart monitor, running shoes, and shorts), I made quick work of the luxury items (tent, sleeping bags, clothes, food, etc.) and we headed for the hills. Fatso Jr was excited to drive and flex those learning-permit muscles. After an hour or so of driving I called He Who Shall Not Be Named to see where he was. We figured we would leave my car at the cabin so we would have a way back to camp after our run.

There we were, sitting around the camp fire chewing the fat and listening to some ridiculously good music by a couple of the brothers, and we got talkin’ about how much Tami would like to run with us in the morning. We miss running with her; and of all the places you can go - this is the place she loves most. After going back and forth we decided we’d send her a text. We knew she couldn’t run it because of her health, but it wouldn’t surprise us if she drove all night to get there and rode the four-wheeler along side for the experience. So He Who Shall Not Be Named drove up to the top of the mountain and found just enough signal to send her a few lines of text. 

It was easy to get out of bed in the morning. You know the feeling. Your air-mattress is functioning at about 40%, you have to pee so bad your dreaming about it, and you’ve just been smacked for the umpteenth time by your child. It was a little chilly but that was a welcome relief. We geared up and didn’t waste too much time before hitting the trail. The course was a dirt road with about five miles of steep uphill climb taking us from about 9,170' to 10,273'. This was a challenge but our runs at City Creek had prepared us. We knew if we just made it up to Elizabeth’s Ridge it was all down hill from there. 

After reaching the summit we were rewarded with a nice downhill grade taking us down to 8,733' in just five miles. At about 11 miles we were both feeling good. Then we got a punch in the stomach. Neither of us realized we would be climbing again for the next two miles. We had driven this road a hundred times and had somehow forgotten about the basin. Going uphill at this point was really taking its toll. He Who Shall Not Be Named started having IT band issues. He’s been nursing his IT to prevent minor problems from turning into major ones; and now it was becoming major. I was struggling too. Mental preparation is a big thing and this section was not in the mental plan. We slogged along knowing the cabin was closer than camp.

We kept our eyes focused on the road about 10 feet in front of us - for a couple of reasons. First, we didn’t want to roll an ankle by stepping on a loose rock or in a hole; and second, seeing the long road ahead was less than motivating. This is the way the long runs go. You push and grind through fatigue and pain. We are separated now and it’s even harder when you’re running alone. I’ve given up anticipating landmarks because I’ve miscalculated too many times. It’s mechanical now. Just throwing one foot in front of the other.

As I near the cabin I start to make calculations in my head. I think I will be about 19 if I go this way, or 17 if I go that way. If I pick up my pace a little I will be at our pre-determined long-run pace. Rising to the mental challenge is not easy and it’s different every time. Sometimes the mental battle is with pace or distance, often it is in the finishing. But I submit, the mental battle is the victory we all crave. This is the victory that is the most demanding - exacting every ounce of spiritual and mental strength we can muster. Requiring that we push ourselves to our limit; not another’s limit or standard but to our own. The mental victory netting us a quiet confidence in ourselves we didn’t have before, a better understanding of the strength of our mettle, and a realization that we can do more than we thought we could.

This is why I run. I'm not addicted. I can quit anytime.

Whip-sawwed in SLC

So it was another week up City Creek canyon for our long run. It’s a great run because traffic is limited (cars one day and bikes every other), there is drinking water up the entire canyon, and you have shade from about 5 pm on. We had a great workout but we didn’t get 20 in like we hoped. It was, “a mere 16.5” as Fatso would say - but it was at a good pace.

We planned on meeting the Old Man somewhere in SLC. He had a meet with the Syracuse XC team at Sugar House Park and figured the bus would be rolling through SLC about the same time we were headed north. The plan was to connect via cell phone and he would have the bus driver drop him off on an off-ramp and we would pick him up. You can probably guess, that didn’t work out. The meet lasted a little longer than expected and we set off earlier than expected. When I reached the Old Man via cell phone he was waiting for his last runner to finish the final race. We were only about ten minutes from SLC so we decided we better just go pick him up. We must like the Old Man because it was unanimous - if it was anyone else in the group we would only meet them half-way and they would have to run the other half.

After making a few wrong turns, the navigation system in the Delta doesn’t work all that well, we found him fairly quickly. The Old Man was happy to see us, until he learned he would be buying ice sodas for everyone for the extra work. We made our way downtown and began our run.

I think Fatso needs a little more “guy” time. He couldn’t stop singing all these teenie-boper songs. “Tonight, Tonight” by Hot Chelle Rae and “That’s not my Name” by the Ting Tings. That’s pretty much radio Disney at its best from what I hear. Of course he had his own versions. Something like, “they call me Fatso, they call me ______ . . . That’s not my name. That’s not myyyyy . . . name.” It’s a good thing we go running. Well good for him. The rest of us were a little embarrassed to be seen, er heard with him.

We held a decent pace going up the canyon. The more familiar we get with all the twists and turns the easier going up becomes. There’s “the gate”, “soap springs”, “Stewart’s crack”, “the apple tree”, the treatment plant, the two little downhill sections, “snake root”, “rotary park”, “the pavilion”, and “three bridges”. Each of these little landmarks tracking our progress up the mighty hill. We reached the top at the third bridge and turned around. It feels so good to run downhill. Back at the pavilion we take a short break to choke down some Gu and chase it with water. Once the gag-reflex subsides we are on our way.

Now we’re cookin’, maintaining a wicked pace. We’ve run this fast plenty of times but this time we are determined not to stop. We have tried to focus on eliminating the “breaks” in our runs. You know, walking for 30 seconds while you get a drink or after you choke on a bug. The run down the canyon gets quieter, a little less “tonight, tonight” and “that’s not my name”.

Finally we are back in the city with only a mile or so to go. The streetlights and storefronts are a welcome addition; the condition of the canyon road can use some improvement and it makes you nervous running it in the dark. People are the new obstacle and we have to make our intentions clear as we move into single file and indicate the side of the sidewalk we are heading for. 

As we approach a young man in a wheel chair, Fatso takes the lead and moves to the right. Our focus is on the wheelchair operator as we try to make eye contact to ensure our intentions are understood. He doesn’t move to either side but he does slow down enough that we are confident in our direction. Just before we pass him Fatso runs into a low-hanging tree branch. Before I realize what has happened the branch whips off his face into mine; punching me in the cheek and mouth before scratching it’s way across my neck. I reach for the branch, my reaction way to slow to soften the blow or slow it down for the twin. It whips off my face and slashes across his face and neck with increasing force. By now, Fatso is holding his face, I’m yelling at him for intentionally whipping the branch into my face, the twin is trying to figure out what just happened, and the Old Man is enduring the same humiliating and painful fate. The intensity of our run has instantly been diverted from pushing hard through the last half-mile of “a mere 16.5” to immense anger. We’re clutching our faces, yelling at each other, and trying to figure out what just happened. We may have been confused, but the guy in the wheelchair and the lady following him were not. It was all they could do to unsuccessfully hide their amusement. It only took us a few seconds to see the humor in their faces and decide it was time to go. We finished the last half-mile in silence.

After resting for a few minutes and trying to shake off the blow. We begin to realize that all four of us have scratches in the exact same places on our face and neck. Our tempers begin to ease as we begin to see the humor in it. It’s nothing an ice soda, some salty snacks and a luxurious ride home in the Delta can’t fix.

Ice the Dolphins

Runners are strange. It’s 10:30 pm and here I sit, alone, on the edge of the tub with my legs in a five-gallon bucket of ice. Alice and the Fatsos think I’m addicted. In fact, Alice has said more than once how I like icing my legs more than going to bed with her. It’s not true. The St. George marathon is less than six weeks away and things are getting weirder - as usual. 

Today we all had to squeeze in our run during work. That is during lunch. I’m not sure just how hot it was but I think we were pushing 100 degrees (the weather says 96).The Fatsos ran together and one of the twins got really sick. I ran alone. After my run I sent a text to Fatso to see how theirs went. 

putting down an ice soda. How was your run Fatso?

you TUB---O---LARD

ours sucked. I actually got sick from the heat, never happened to me before

migrane, diareahh, chills

not good. I went at noon too. Too hot not fun.

Fatso felt good, didn’t happen to him

I don’t think it’s smart to run in the heat like this

im feeling good now

yea, when it gets close to 100 its not smart

Ya gotta get your workout in. There’s no skippin’ this close to the marathon. That’s why you have to ice those dolphins. If you don’t recover from your last run, how are you going to be up for the next one. Friday will be here soon and it will be time for a 20 miler. So I have to ice. I don’t have a choice. The question is whether to ice at night before bed, or in the morning and before bed.

Ben Lomand Superman

Wednesday night Fatso and I went on an 8.3 mile tempo run. It was a butt-kicker. It makes a big difference when you are running with someone. You push each other without even trying.

On Saturday I went on a long run with someone else. The Fatsos had to go help the Big Cheese and Co. at the shop. They couldn’t get away until about three or four and I had other plans. I have to get amp’d up for the long runs and waiting around all day makes it tougher. During the week Speedy asked me if I was interested in running up to Ben Lomand Peak and back. He was planning on leaving at about 7 am or so and the run is just under 16 miles. I thought that sounded just about right but didn’t want to commit until I knew what the Fatsos were going to do.

So I called Speedy early Saturday morning, hoping I would catch him before he left. I was nervous calling that early in the morning but he answered after the first ring. He was excited I could make it. We had to make quick work of things to get going before it got too hot. I quickly took care of business and decided I better bring along some back up supplies just in case. 

I arrived at the North Ogden Pass trailhead at about 7:50 in a full sweat. I quickly identified the bathrooms and made a b-line. Locked. No big deal. I could wait another few minutes. Surely whoever was in there would be finished soon. After several minutes I began to wonder if someone was actually conducting any business. I made some quick calculations and decided I better find out. I tried the handle again. Still locked. “Anyone in there?” No answer. “Hello?”

Based on my previous calculations I knew I better act fast. I grabbed the back up supplies and headed for the trees. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, if your’e going on a long run make sure you have some back up. You never know what’s going to happen when the adrenaline starts pumping.

Speedy showed up a considerate two minutes after I wandered out of the trees. Just enough time to cool down and gather the necessary faculties required for a 16 mile run. We headed up the first set of switchbacks at a nice hiking pace - about a 12 minute mile. The first two or three miles are rocky and steep. We leveled out for about a mile and then hit some more switchbacks. These ones are less rocky and shaded by enormous pines. Finally we get to a stretch where we can get some running in. We are about four miles into things and it feels great to get a full stride in. 

Soon we arrive at the saddle that joins the North Fork Park trail with the North Ogden Pass trail. So far we’ve passed two people and one deer - not too bad for such a popular trail. From this point the real climbing begins. The last mile or so is very steep and very rocky. We slow our pace to just under a 14 minute mile. During our final ascent we pass about a dozen hikers; most of which comment about our blistering pace. Odd? One of them points out the 18 or so mountain goats grazing on the west slope of the peak. Turns out we’ll see more wildlife on this hike than people.

The view at the peak is incredible. It’s my first time to the top of Ben Lomand Peak and it doesn’t disappoint. The view stretches hundreds of miles. You can see Idaho to the north, Salt Lake City to the south, beyond Willard Bay and the Great Salt Lake in the west, and far beyond Pine View reservoir and the Ogden Valley to the east. If your'e not already out of breath from the climb the views will do the rest of the work.

It’s not break time. We’re only half-way through this and we have work to do. I’m looking forward to pushing a good pace down the mountain. We start climbing down and are dancing through the rocks down the switchbacks. Speedy is more agile than me. It’s obvious he runs the trails more frequently. I’m running with caution; carefully eying every step so not to roll an ankle or take a spill. By the time we’re out of the switchbacks and headed toward the saddle Speedy can sense that I’m itching to speed things up. He encourages me to take the lead and get things moving.

It feels great to really run and I feel more and more confident. There are less rocks and hazards so I continue to increase the speed. Speedy wants to take it a little slower and encourages me to keep going. I’m having too much fun at this point to put up much resistance. 

After the middle section of switchbacks the trail levels out and moves to the north slope of the mountain. It’s much greener on this side and the growth encroaches on the trail. Bushes and tree limbs whip me as i fly down the trail but I’m having too much fun to slow down. Hands up to deflect oncoming branches and limbs. The next one is too big to push out of the way so I duck. Clearing the branch is no problem but lifting my feet over the root crossing the trail is more than I can do. The root grabs my toe and launches me into a full superman. Gravity has its way and I hit the trail hard. I’m lucky. The trail is less rocky and more sandy. i’m covered in dust with little else to show for it. No blood. The only proof is the spike captured on the heart-rate monitor.

I’m running with a little more caution now. That’s probably a good thing because the trail has moved back to the south-west slope with switchbacks and way too many rocks. I make it to the car without any further excitement. It feels great to have another long one in the bank. As I ride my brake down the North Ogden Divide I remember the 7-Eleven just around the corner and can’t resist pulling in for an ice-soda. 

Deep Thoughts

Sundays are nice because you get to relax and just chill. I like hanging out at the fat farm and doing nothing. Except yesterday was a deep thinker and that's heavy and not as cheerful. I can't stop thinking about Tami and how she's doing. It's weird fatso. She definitely is one of us and her health issues just seem so surreal. I guess she is going to start cancer treatments in about a week. She is a tough one and I think she will do fine, but I worry about her and her family. This will surely test them.


Monday we went on a tempo-ish run instead of our usual interval workouts. We were a little sore from our Saturday run; and a lot sore from our M90x jumping lunges. So we ran just over six miles at about a 7:40 pace. It was a nice downhill route and definitely a break from the intensity of the intervals.


We did a one-way run, so after we were done I had to take Fatso to get the Delta. We had a good conversation about Tami and life and hope. All this deep thinking is affecting all our fun juvenile humor. I learned something important though. See, its easy to let your thoughts wander and dwell on negative things. I'm not talking bad or creepy thoughts, just fears and worries. You know - the opposite of faith and hope. Pretty soon your'e caught up in these negative thoughts and you begin to become overwhelmed with anxiety. You become edgy and irritable. Then you have to do some serious digging to get yourself out of the funk your mind created. Fatso told me the Big Cheese counseled him considerably in this area. He told Fatso its a sin to let yourself get carried away in these kinds of thoughts. I think he's right. God has great plans in store for us. He knows we can accomplish big things - much bigger than we understand. So when we allow negative thoughts to overwhelm us and determine how we feel, we thwart God's plan for us and forget our blessings. I'm determined to better 'cuz I think God's plan for us is much better than any of us could dream of engineering.
When your'e learning stuff like this from your friends, you realize they're not friends - they're Fatsos.

City Creek Long Run

So there we were, Saturday late afternoon, 92 degrees outside and we still hadn’t gone on our long run for the week. We were texting back and forth trying to decide what to do. Should we skip it. Should we go run 14 miles in the heat. Finally fatso called with an idea we all could agree on. He suggested we go to the SLC and run up City Creek Canyon while our spouses went shopping - that sounded fun and dangerous. Fun to run up City Creek; dangerous to let Alice and the others go shopping. 

So the ladies dropped us off at the Conference Center and we changed into our running clothes. The run is hard on the way up, just over seven miles of twisting and turning up hill. But coming back down is almost fun. You just kind of let gravity have its way and next thing you know your’e keeping a pretty good pace. It took us about two hours to finish our run and then we showered and met the girls back at the conference center.

We finished up our evening by going to dinner at Ramano’s Macaroni Grill. After a long run like that we all gazeled our sotas. The waitress couldn’t keep our glasses full and seemed a little confused until we filled her in. It was a nice evening out. Alice and I hadn’t been out for several months - the last time the fatsos went on a big run followed by dinner.

Slurpees & M90x

Wednesdays are Tempo-runs. These runs are typically five to ten miles and are a little slower than 5k/10k race pace. We usually have to run these on our own because of work, family, and the chaos that comes with life.

On Thursday, Fatso and I went to Camp Williams with our ward for youth conference. Lately we have developed a minor dependence on ice sodas (slurpees); and that feeling of excitement that comes with leaving on vacation awakened the craving. We were both hauling young men in our vehicles and without thinking were diverted to the closest Maverick for a Mountain Dew ice soda. 

That proved to be our demise (at least with the Sista’s in the group). We couldn’t stay away. Camp Williams is only 15 minutes or so away from a 7-Eleven in one direction and a Maverick in the other. That was too much of a temptation for us and we succumbed several times. Each time we returned with ice soda in hand, subjecting ourselves to the gnashing of teeth by the Sister leaders. I think the ice soda induced brain freeze somehow weakened our mind and made us forget about the previous verbal whipping. 

We had some fun this year. Rappelling, military obstacle courses, swimming, night games, a movie, a cool fireside, just hanging out, amazing food, and M90x. We slept in military barracks which was way fun because everyone was together. Well at least all the boys were in one and all the girls were in another. We went to the girl’s barracks to say hi to Fatso’s wife (Piggy). She went to youth conference too because she is a leader over the young women and an amazing cook for all.

During some free time on Friday fatso jr and the Bowdies decided they wanted to do some M90x. So we pushed several bunk-beds out of the way and cranked up the AC/DC. Next thing you know everyone was involved. We started out doing spider push-ups, russians, leg throws, and sit ups. Then we got into the tough part with jumping lunges and pull-ups. We picked the wrong song for jumping lunges because it was way too long. We ended up doing about 120 lunges. Whenever the boys would stop lunging, I would say, “20 more.” Everyone stuck with it and paid for it with sore muscles later. The next day everyones gluteus was so sore they could hardly sit down. So everyone commenced punching each other in the high-glutes every chance they had.

Friday night rolled around and the Priests still hadn’t gotten in any good pranks so they were determined to make the most of their final night at Camp Williams. One of them set their alarm for three o’clock in the morning and they saran wrapped Ian and Dallas to their beds. Funny thing is, neither one woke up during the ordeal and were still in the same position when they woke up Saturday morning. 

Why Fatso?

After our workout Monday night everyone at the fat-farm was bugging me about posting to the blog. I was feeling like I was getting pecked because see, a journal is not that interesting and nothing out of the ordinary happened. So why should I try to write something about nothing?

Then smart Alice started in on this thing about how I need to tell everyone about the Fatso Running Club, and why it is, and who it is, and how it came to be. And other things like what kind of stuff should be included in the blog and what should definitely be left out. And whether there should be a warning message to all who enter.

I don’t know. As I sit here and write, and re-write, about the fatsos it kind of diminishes the brotherhood. If you know us - you understand. If you don’t know us, I recommend you get to know us - you won’t regret it; and who knows you might start calling your closest friends fatso too.

Since this is a running club. . .

Monday nights we do interval workouts. For these we like to go to the high school track. The track provides a nice flat course and makes it easy to measure distance. Currently we are doing 800 meter intervals at about a three minute pace. This time it was the twins, fatso jr and myself. Fatso jr and I thought the triplet would show this week but he stayed home again to watch TV and work on his lardis. This week we expanded from six intervals to seven. These are killers and we hate 'em. Also, there was a little debate about the inside lane. We started to jockey for the inside lane 'cuz the twins thought there was an advantage. Only I found out there was an advantage; and a big one at that. So I had to swallow some pride and work a little harder this time. The little twins didn't show for the second week in a row. With only about 60 days until the St George marathon we are getting a little worried about whether the little twins are going to stick with it. They are young enough though that they will do fine if they choose. I guess its time to apply some pressure to the fatties to get them out.

Porch Drink

k so me and fatso were at grandma Bingham's house having porch drink and decided that we need to start a running blog so we could keep laughing about our adventures. Plus, also . . . I have learned a lot from those guys and so some of what we blog will be of a serious nature. Well not too serious because it should be fun but serious enough to keep it real.

Except today was a pretty sobering day because we went up to the hospital to see one of our favorite fatsos. See, Tami has always been one of the most inspriational fatsos of all and she's not feeling too well. She had surgery yesterday and the doctor pulled out a massive tumor. She has been in pain for almost two years and it finally got to the point that she couldn't handle it any more. She went to the doctor on Friday and they decided that she had to have surgery right away. 

So fatso and I took our wifies up to see how she was doing. Only when we got there Tami was not doing so well so we just hung out with her family. That was good though because they are really struggling and could use the support. We were lucky enough to help give her husband a blessing. We talked for a couple of hours about how to turn this big ol' challenge into a positive thing that will make us all stronger. That's a tall order. In fact sometimes just hanging on when someone you care about is hurting is almost more than one can handle. It was a good visit. Hopefully in some small way we lifted their spirits.

We decided that later we should try and have porch drink. Porch drink is more like a feeling than a drink. It's when you get together with people you love and time seems to stop, or at least slow down. Everyone sits outside sipping cool-aid or some other concoction and nibbling endlessly on cookies and treats. It's not the sustenance that creates the feeling, well it does create a bloated feeling, but the real feeling is created by sharing company with those around you; and if some of those are from an earlier generation it makes the feeling that much better. With father time ticking that much slower you just might be lucky enough to absorb some of grandma's wisdom, or at least fool yourself into believing that you might be one of her favorites.

So there we were sipping our cool-aid and munching peanut-butter fingers when fatso jr picks up the scale and gives it a squeeze.  Not a hug or a cuddle but a death grip measured in pounds. 140#s! Then Stacey proved she was a bigger man and got 170#s. Well that started the ball rolling and you know how the fatsos do with a little friendly competition. Fatso jr decided to try again and narrowly beat Stacey by 10#s. Then I grabbed the scale and gave it a squeeze. 260#s on my first go but I knew that wasn't going to be enough. So i gave it another squeeze and a . . . . .grrrrunt! 270, a bunch of laughs, and a few jokes about dropping something in my drawers. Well it wasn't going to stop there. The scale got passed all around the room with everyone giving it their best shot. A few of them grunting but mostly just squeezing. Paul eventually tilted it out at 300#s - without even grunting (weenie). He's such a show-off. Grandma got 140#s. Everything has to be a competition with the fatsos and tonight wasn't any different. Too bad for them 'cuz I'll always be grandma's favorite grandson-in-law.