Run, Timothy!

Pneumonia and 13.1 miles

This is the weekend!  In just over 40 hours I’ll be running for Team Challenge, for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America, for everyone with Crohn’s or Colitis, and for you.  Thank you so much for your support.  You may trust that I’ll be in touch over the weekend through my running blog.

http://run.timothyjordan.com/

Oh, and yes, it’s true.  I have Pneumonia.  The doc said I can run the half “as tolerated.”  Which I took to mean that if I feel like I’m gonna die, maybe I should slow down.  That said, I think we can all be sure that I’ll finish the half as long as I remain conscious and in charge of my own actions.

Oh, and if you haven’t donated to the cause yet, it’s not too late!  My fundraising page is still taking donations.  Isn’t it worth $20 to see me cross the finish line with Pneumonia?  More importantly, isn’t it worth it to say you helped in the fight for a cure?  That you’ve helped fund programs for children diagnosed with Crohn’s and Colitis?  So please, if you haven’t yet, jump over to the following address and with just a few dollars make people’s lives better.

http://www.active.com/donate/lv09norcal/timothyjordan

For all those that have donated, you are amazing, wonderful, awesome people.  Thank you.

MI6 and Running

There I was, running along the edge of Oakland’s Lake Merritt listening to James Bond eat the most wonderful meal of his life.  If you’ve read the books, there are a few things you know about the character James Bond that aren’t generally apparent in the movies.  Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, James Bond does not like killing.  Seriously.  He has a double-o designation which makes him one of three men in his service that can be selected for a job that requires the ending of some human life for Queen and Country.  Aside from the fact that it is a ‘great honor’ and that it sends him on the most adventurous of assignments, his heart isn’t in it.  Which is good, I suppose.  You wouldn’t want the Secret Service of a civilized, modern society to employ killers for the killing.  Rather, you’d want them restrained, almost heart broken when it must be done.  Second on the list of easy-to-miss James Bond characterizations is his sincere, deeply rooted, nearly fanatical taste for food.  Good and intensely specific food.  Mr. Bond never orders on the menu, nearly always knows exactly what he wants, and usually knows how to get it.  He takes “a ridiculous pleasure” in what he eats and drinks which comes mostly from “a habit of taking a lot of trouble over details.”  Read through any of Ian Fleming’s books and you’ll be introduced to a deeply troubled and extraordinarily well fed Commander Bond.  His actions are often far from perfect and his gadgets only support his very, very good luck, and his messy, irrepressible persistence.  He’s a Secret Service agent you can realistically imagine.

These thoughts are going through my head as James Bond is treated to an extravagantly simple meal of fresh crab and champagne, the most wonderful meal of his life.

I’ve been listening to audio books while running lately, though I started out listening to music.  The beats of Muse, Girl Talk, and The Teddybears fueled my drive to cross each mile, each day, each week off the list preceding the race next weekend.  Several weeks ago, however, I was running South of the train tracks in SOMA and got a little bored.  After the first three miles or so of any run, after you break through that initial wall, sometimes it just sort of becomes a consistent motion that you need to keep up.  Your body has given up any resistance and you find yourself faced with a new problem: another hour or so of the same steps, in the same direction, with the same music.  So, I turned to audio books.  Recently, I went through Iain M. Banks’ Transition and Chuck Palaniuk’s Rant, both excellent and entertaining books.  However, it’s hard to beat the combination of Simon Vance’ vocal prowess and Ian Fleming’s unapologetic spy thrillers.  As such, there I was: a third through Goldfinger, another three miles to run, and an uncanny hunger for fresh crab and champagne.

When I started running, I was uncertain of two very important things: raising enough money for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America and making it across the finish line on my own two feet.  At this point, because of your generous support, I’ve met my minimum requirement.  We’ve raised nearly $2,800 for research and children’s programs!  I’m so proud to have friends and family that even in these hard economic times are willing to donate to a good cause.  It’s a cause you may not have even known about before I expressed how important it was to me, my teammates, and millions of Americans.  Even so, here we are, nearly $2,800 up.

As for crossing the finish line on my own two feet, I must say the drama isn’t over yet.  Two weeks ago, I ran eleven and a third miles.  I ran five miles the following Tuesday and then I quite gracefully came down with a sinus infection.  I’ve been off the track for the last week and a half, and it looks as though my body might keep me from the running tomorrow morning which is the final big team run before traveling to the race next weekend.  So I went to Alembic in the Haight and ordered an intensely specific meal of marinated olives, hanger steak with pressed cauliflower and local mushrooms, and mint tea with honey, lemon, and Bushmills 10.  I chewed well as I remembered all the tight spots M’s golden boy was in before the final run at an enemy of the West.  You see, I’ve learned several specific things about running these last many weeks, yet there is one lesson that stands out.  It stands out because it’s the sort of lesson you learn over and over again, each time running over the bridge, each time you almost stop, each step of every mile beyond what you’ve run before.  It’s not some perfect body or fancy gadget that makes great runners great.  It’s a messy, irrepressible persistence.  And by golly, I’m gonna make it across those thirteen miles next Sunday.  I made you a promise, thirteen miles from me for your support of a charity I believe in.  You’ve made your contributions and I will make my race.  It may be messy, but with your support and irrepressible persistence on my side, in just over a week I expect to find myself across the finish line looking for fresh crab and champagne.