Two-a-Days

The last few months have been strange. 

Over the summer we trained hard and stuck to a pretty disciplined regimen. There was a huge build up for the St George marathon - then the wheels fell off and the fatso running club all but fell apart. You remember my post “Goin’ South. . .?” Well apparently “South” meant more than just St George.

Fatso’s hip took him out of commission for at least two months. During which he got a promotion at work and at church (if that’s what you call it). Now we’ll refer to him as The Supreme Counselor and his twin shall be dubbed Fatso. 

The marathon was great and I posted my best time ever by more than 15 minutes. Then Fatso and I went down to the Snow Canyon half marathon in November and posted our best times for a half marathon. We finished side by side. It was exciting but it just wasn’t the same. Fatso texted The Supreme Counselor to tell him about our race. When he wouldn’t respond Fatso called him and the Supreme Counselor went off. He said a few “farm words” and hung up on Fatso. The Supreme Counselor texted an apology a few minutes later. Weird huh? I mean, an apology? Anyway, he was stressed and our fun was gettin him all chapped. We spent the weekend at Ratcliff’s condo and had a great time. Fatso Junior and Egg came with us too. Egg took The Supreme Counselors number and ran the 5k; and Fatso Junior jumped in without registering. The Old Man brought his family and a bunch of the Syracuse Cross Country Team. They collected most of the hardware for both the 5k and the half marathon.

Between the half marathon in early November and Christmas, pretty much nothing happened. I’m pretty sure everyone did something, but we didn’t do anything. The Supreme Counselor and Ratcliff went to therapy and did their rehab; and sulked. Fatso went on a few runs. I ran here and there and mixed in some cross training. The Old Man maintained for a while then had to stop to have a hernia fixed. The smog increased and the temperature decreased. 

By the time the kids got out of school for Christmas break I was ready to get out of my funk. Fatso Jr was running here and there for indoor track and it got me thinking about high school. Remembering how during tryouts the coaches would push you through two-a-day practices to build up your endurance and weed out the weaklings. So I started talking to Fatso Jr about doing two-a-days every day he was out of school. We started on Wednesday. 

On Friday The Supreme Counselor sent me a text, “should we run today”

“planning on it.  Doing two-a-days”

“what? Your’e trying to get an edge”

"no I’m not. Let’s go”

So he coordinated a time and we went for a run. It was our first run for a long time. The Supreme Counselor, Fatso, and me. During the run we talked about two-a-days and they both thought it sounded fun. Not fun like fun, but fun like that’s a challenge I don’t want to watch you conquer from the sidelines.

So The Supreme Counselor became The Supreme Coordinator and got us all going on two-a-days. Me, Fatso, Little Donkey, Egg, Fatso Jr, The Old Man, and himself. We mixed in a few different things - Ab Ripper X, M90X, Insanity Cardio Abs, Free Weights, and at least one good run every day. We even went out to Antelope Island for a run one day and got in nine and a half miles.

So about thirteen days later we’re all feeling pretty good about ourselves and talking about how we are going to do some work on Saturdays from here on. All our pacts are renewed and we’re committed - at least committed to remembering how much fun we used to have. Life has it’s way of changing though. Your responsibilities increase and you become capable of taking on more; and you have to keep moving forward and upward. It’s a sobering thing, and sometimes scary, but life is the biggest adventure. Being a Fatso means facing those ever increasing responsibilities with a good attitude and that boyish zeal - like any other challenge you can’t conquer from the sidelines. 

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.