In the words of George Michael, "you gotta have faith".

You only get one first time for everything. Today, for the first time, little Al started our morning prayer by herself as we were pulling out of the driveway. For nearly seven years, I have been driving one of our little girls to the Early Education Center at St. Therese and during that time we have said the same prayer every morning. It's a prayer my mom and I made up when I was just a little kid and I have been saying it religiously since that time. 

I am no different than you. I struggle with faith and belief and religion and will do so until the day I die and that's okay. At the same time I believe it's my responsibility to teach my children that prayer can be an important part of their lives. Not a crutch to use when you feel weak but a tool you can use to focus on the positives in our lives and not the negatives. One line from our prayer is this, "thank you God for our blessings, for our home, our food, our clothes, our health we are very fortunate and understand that there are many people out there who don't have these things, and need help." 

I guess what I'm trying to do is provide some perspective into what prayer can be and how it can keep us centered and grounded. It doesn't always work. Last week Ruby told me that we only do "free" stuff. Talk about a shot in the gut. She's no dummy and at six years old can already see the differences between people economically. My kids have no needs that go unmet, but they certainly have wants that do. I'm okay with that. 

I have faith that if I can instill in my kids an attitude of gratitude then, as the cultural influences that I can't control that are blasted repeatedly into their consciousness, they have the foundation in giving thanks and not in asking for more. I have faith in that. 

Coaching U7 Girls Soccer

Three games deep into the early season of soccer and my head is exploding from rapid learning and improvement that we are making. The difference in a few of my players from game one to game three is staggering. For the first time in a few years I have a girl who is brand new to the game. Meaning she has NEVER played organized soccer before. While I confess I was a bit nervous having a relative novice on the team who potentially might make mistakes that lead to goals against us my fears have been assuaged. I understand that rediculous to think that parents or other players on the team might get upset if someone messes up but these kids care. I have kids who WANT to play defense instead of trying to score goals because they believe they can stop anyone from scoring. Think about that for a minute. I have numerous kids who truly believe they can influence the game and help us win by playing defense. If you asked 100 seven year olds how they can win a soccer game I bet 95 of them would say by scoring the most goals and five would say by not letting any go in against us. I have almost five of those girls on a team of eleven.

As much as I would like to, I can't take credit for that but what I can take credit for is increasing the level of enthusiasm for defense. If one of the kids is in the back and doesn't allow anyone to score of get by them for the half a quarter they are on defense we celebrate it like they just scored a goal. We and this includes the other main coach and the parents yell just as loud for a strong defensive play as we do for a goal. That is the key. If all the love and glory goes to the strikers you are going to have team of wannabe strikers. If you can get them excited to get the ball out of your end or make a pass out to a teammate then when you ask who wants to play defense you get five hands up instead of no hands up.

These girls bring it. 

Ready, Get Set, Go!

After nearly three months of practicing, kicking the ball in the side yard, going to SportingKC games and generally jonesing for the games to start we kicked off the U7 season in style on Saturday morning. I say in style because the girls are all matching for the first time ever. My Bad News Bears outfitting normally leads to us wearing three different types of white jerseys with varying shorts and socks that look straight out of Helen Keller's drawers. Not this year. All eleven girls are wearing matching tops, matching shorts, and all different numbers. After two years of trying I've finally learned how to successful iron on jersey numbers without messing them up. Ruby no longer has to wear a jersey with what appears or is a backwards two.

"What number is that Dad, she asks?"
"That's a five Ruby."
"Are you sure? I think it's supposed to be a two and you did it wrong."
"Didn't you have a bad vision test last time?"
"You messed up Dad and I have to wear that one again."

That's normally how that discussion goes. Not this fall, we are looking good. We are playing good too. Like most leagues it was a little mismanaged at first. We are supposed to play 4v4 with no goalie and the coaches on the sideline. Somehow the game before us was 4v4 with goalies and the coaches on the field. The other coach and I asked if we could go without the goalie and be on the field. That sounded great to me. While I trust they will be in the right places a little extra coaching doesn't hurt. We needed that extra coaching as well. It took us about a quarter to shake the rust off and remember how to play. We were losing 2-1 at the end of the first quarter and for once I played it cool. I mentioned we need to do a better job of staying in our positions and that somebody, anybody has to at least attempt to play defense. You see, the glory of goal scoring has infiltrated my entire team. I only have two girls who want to play defense, my daughter and my defensive powerhouse Anna. My daughter only wants to play it because she thinks no one can score when she is back there so she does it only because she sees believes we won't lose. Anna on the other hand actually loves commanding the back half of the field. She loves to slam the ball with huge kicks and defense affords her that opportunity. Anyway, by the end of the second quarter we were winning 3-2 I believe.

Halftime! Hot damn you would never thought these girls had eaten a orange wedge in their lives. This is the first year where we actually have a five minute halftime so we are introducing the halftime snack into the game. Orange wedges were the traditional halftime snack of my youth and being the first snack bringer I wanted to keep that alive. They mowed them down like a Bin Laden Headshot at the air rifle booth during Parkville Days. One girl looked at me wide eyed while chowing down and said, "coach Ben where did you get these oranges?" She was completely flabbergasted. Like in all of her seven years on the planet she had never tasted an orange that was so good. I was like, "Sun Fresh."

Oh behold the power of something new and a little natural sugar. They came out like their hair was on fire. When the final whistle blew we had tallied nine goals to four. It could have been worse but we called off the dogs as best we could. My wife could see me beaming before the game was even over. The girls managed to make at least five assists on those goals and the only mistake we had was of my doing and it was so the other team could get the ball back.

I could go on and on but practice and consistency is paying off. I love these kids.

Why Winning the Lamar Hunt US Open Cup Matters

I like to write letters, emails, blogs, and lots of other literary things so yesterday, as I basked in the glow of Sporting Kansas City winning the Lamar Hunt US Open Cup, I wrote a letter Soren Petro and Kevin Kietzman of Sports Radio 810 WHB. Soren had posed the question of what does winning the US Cup mean. I thought I should tell them. 

Hello Mr. Petro & Mr. Kietzman, 

Today on Petro's show he asked, "what does winning the US Cup mean?" That is a great question. In the soccer world it does mean something in regards to getting to play in the CONCACAF Champions League. That is a big deal in terms of measuring yourself against the best clubs in North and Central America. If being "world champions" is the highest achievement in sport than I would argue that winning that tournament is even bigger than the MLS Cup. Regardless, I don't think that is really why it is meaningful. 

Personally, I am not a big fan of pro football, pro basketball, or pro baseball but I do love the college versions of those sports. Why? Because they do it for the love of the game or at least 95% of them who won't play in the pros do it for the love of the game. Why do so many people love Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Pete Rose, etc, etc, because in your heart you believe that even if they weren't playing for money they would die if they lost. They just want to win because they LOVE the game.The reason I'm turned off by professional sports is because I think they play the game because it's a job and not for the love. That may be wrong, but they are playing a GAME. I mean I would love to play a game to make a living. So you would think if you are playing a game regardless of the level you would LOVE it. My perception is that many pros don't LOVE it and my perception is my reality. 

Last night, I was in the Cauldron for nearly six hours, singing and dancing, with my wife and two young girls (7 & 4 years old, don't judge me on what they hear we are their parents and it's our job to explain and parent them the best I can and this is another discussion entirely and I don't want to digress to far) it was one of the most amazing sporting experience of my life. The SportingKC players are accessible, we have met them at events and got autographs, we get responses to them when we message them on Facebook and Twitter, they post messages about how excited they are before they go out and PLAY. At this point many of them make $100K to $500K now, so they are getting paid very well but not so much that it completely removes them from the "real" world. They come over to the Cauldron after every game and clap for US, win or lose. You see the pain and joy in their faces and it's real. 

I have attached a picture of my oldest last night after WE won the Cup. She was in heaven. Those are tears of joy. She was so excited. The players came over, some were crying, CRYING because they won, grown men behind me were crying because WE won. The players, owners, sales dudes, security guards (which by the way we know their names) players families, ball boys, ushers, cops, food service, all feel like they are PART of it. That somehow they had a hand in it. The management of the club writes letters to the fans telling them that they want to win this for you. 

This win has meaning because when those 18,000 people left last night a large part of them felt like they were part of something special, something that has been lacking in the sports/entertainment here in Kansas City. It has meaning because like you said Mr. Petro, the owners said they were going to do it and did everything they could to make it happen. It meaningful because we feel like we have an actual partnership with them. The ownership recognizes the fact that we pay good money and spend loads of time, that we could spend on other avenues and in return they bust their ass to make it happen. Do you think Mr. Hunt or Mr. Glass really cares about winning or losing or making money? I'm sure they care about winning but I'm sure they care a whole heck of a lot more about making money. Believe I'm no Polly Anna and am not foolish enough to think that Mr. Patterson or Mr. Illig aren't interested in making money, they are businessmen and this is a business but they seem to care about winning and that's meaningful. 

I asked my daughter why she was so excited, she said it's because WE won. She said it was the best day of her life. As a Dad, and both of you are, when your kid tells you that you just had a hand in making the best day of their life, even if she's only seven, that has a ton of meaning to me and they just made a season ticket holder for life and that means something to Sporting. 

I've never called in but I listen everyday. You both do a tremendous job at a very difficult job and I want to say thanks for talking about soccer more this year than ever before.

 

That my friends is what it's all about. 

One Daring Act Today - A New Habit

"Do every day or two something for no other reason than that you would rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need draws nigh, it may find you not unnerved and untrained to stand the test." William James "Habit".

My daughter Ruby and I were reading a book two nights ago called, If You're So Smart, How Come You Can't Spell Mississippi? by Barbara Esham. It's a fantastic book and we really enjoyed it. In the book it references the above quote. The author takes some liberty with the quote so it's a bit easier for a six year old to understand but the message remains the same. This led to a pretty fantastic conversation between my daughter and I and it also led us to starting a new habit ourselves. We both are going to try to do something difficult everyday and then report back to each other at dinner.

Yesterday, we tried our first go at this and it was a fantastic. I want to do my best to relay exactly how the conversation went.

"So Ruby did you do anything hard today?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"What was it?"

"I ran in the back yard as fast as I could and didn't step on any dog poop," she said being completely serious. Then she added, "and that was really hard because there is a lot of poop out there."

Wow, owned by my six year old. She later told me I really need to pick the poop up. We are both really excited about this new thing we can share together and in a round about way she is making herself ready for when the going does get tough.

Leadville 50...25 Mile Race Report Flatlander Style

This report is going to get some additional views from those who might not be all that familiar with my race recaps. They typically are less about the run and more about what I have learned about myself by tapping into some pain that is only achievable through feats of endurance/ridiculousness. The Leadville Race Series and for me specifically the Leadville SilverRush 50 Mile Run was my humbling of choice. The most breathtaking, awe-inspiring run I have ever been on in my life. It really is like racing across the sky. Here is a link to the google images page for the Leadville 50. At one point I am standing at 12,400 feet feeling like I am invincible and lighting the fuse (putting on GirlTalk) to blaze down the descent, and two hours later I am cursing the race director and this wicked little uphill they put in right before the turn-around at Stumptown. Sons of bitches. That was my nail in the preverbial coffin. Sons of bitches.

The race starts at 6am which is cold in Leadville, Colorado. I come from where people without window units are dying or Kansas City. I like running in the extremes but I also like practicing in the extremes which makes challenging conditions not as bad. Preparing for how the altitude will affect you, if you have never ran that far or high before is difficult. People talk about their breathing struggles. At one point a dude next to me on the run is putting in his ear phones and I say, "what are you going to jam to?" and he says, "anything but my breathing." For him that was no joke. He was laboring and I could hear him very easily. On the other hand my breathing was measured and like a Sunday morning and remained so the entire length I was committed.

Here is how the altitude hit me. You get the first ten miles of a long gradual climb to the first 12K summit. I was power-hiking/walking/hiking the vast majority of the climbs. Much like everyone else who's not a former Olympian. I didn't have a plan, which is typical, I would advise having one. I don't have a watch either but other people do so it forces you to meet people and gets your mind off what hurts. Fortunately, I made friends with a demo-pilot for BeechCraft out of Wichita and basically latched on with him, started a conversation and followed a sound strategy for the first ten miles. The tall Swede esstentially coached me up the first climb. It was smart too. You need to conserve energy early because the climb out of Stumptown and back to Printer Boy are brutal. BRUTAL. It pitch black out and you are in your car stuck in a ditch with the water rising slowly around you. Your seat belt is stuck and you hit your throat on the steering wheel and can't yell. All the while a car is stopped at the top of the road with a guy out with a flashlight looking around because he saw skids mark leading to the side of the road. The water is getting higher, your hands are slick and you can't unlock the door, the flashlight keeps shining just to the side and front of the car. Then the water starts to cover your mouth and nose and you take a deep breath. Just at that moment the guy with the flashlight sees you and races down to help. Problem is he can't get the door open; it's locked and he can't open it against the wall of the water. He finds a giant rock and slams it against the window but the rock breaks and you slowly start to fade to black. Just as you think it's all over the windows bust out where the rock had cracked it and the water rushes free. The man who came to your aid pulls you out but you aren't breathing, luckily he is able to run up to his car and happens to have a defibrillator in the back. (he works for Cintas Safety) As he rushes down to help you, you see the bright lights and hosts of angels, he works to hook up the panels and gets everything straight, hits the button and nothing. The battery is dead from the class he got done teaching earlier that day at a workshop for Leadville First Responders working the aid stations the next day at the Leadville 50. You die. BRUTAL! So that section is pretty tough.

What happens to me at altitude is mostly nutritional and hydration challenges. It takes my body a few weeks to get actually "normal" once I'm out there. For this trip I gave it two days. It's weird. I drink tons of water but it never seems like enough. I don't pee enough or crap enough. I have a hard time eating and lose my appetite. In turn, what happens is I start to get cramps which are the death of me on races this long. Mistake number one harkens back to the weather. I started with gloves, arm sleeves, long sleeve shirt, tights, and neck wrap or balaclava not be mistaken for a baklava which is delicious. Mind you it's 40*F at the start of the race. That's pretty cold and I want to be prepared for all conditions. It's also in the low 50*'s at the top of the summits (12K) which you hit four times in this run. All around you are dudes wearing short shorts, with no shirts and Grizzly Man beards. It seems that shorts and a t-shirt are a much more appropriate attire than my garb that day. After the race my Dad mentioned that at the Printer Boy aid station at mile 13.5 or so that I looked great, barely sweating. He said most guys were pouring sweat and glistening. I remember thinking as I was passing dudes on the downhill that I was not sweating like the rest of the guys around me but I felt outstanding. I ate a half a peanut butter and jelly and had another gel, I usually eat one an hour, and headed down the trail for some more speed. By the time I got to mile 16 or 17 I remember thinking, "I don't think I'm going to finish it." From positive to negative in three miles. I was cramping all over my legs and it felt like my calves were actually bubbling inside. Talk about a weird sensation, followed by cramps in my neck and back which made me think about the movie Friday, "oh my neck, oh my back, oh my neck and my back".

The run down into Stumptown is hard and makes every other downhill you have done pretty tame. It's also so damn disheartening because you realize at that point you have to go back up it again. I just kept thinking and doubting myself with the doubter screaming, "holy shit, you have to hike up that again, and you feel like this already. You will never make it. If you do it will be over the time limit. Just give up and quit. It's not worth it." Being manhandled by doubt my tiny mental supporter is pushed further and further into the dark recess of my brain meekly yelling, "you commit not to quit! You can do this. The cramps will pass. Emily is going to be pissed." Until finally, that mental support is squashed out by the desire to end the pain and you quit. For me that's usually long before I stop running. I quit at mile 19 or 20 at the end of the second climb to 12K. I didn't stop running until the halfway point at Stumptown. An expensive long run that I would never take back in a million years.

I should have worn shorts and a t-shirt. You warm up fast. When my old man mentioned I didn't look like I was sweating I should have noticed that as well. He told me that after the race and when you looked at my clothes you could see white salt lines all over the front and back of my shirt, tights, front and back in places that I never get salt deposits. You see I was sweating like the rest of those guys you just couldn't tell. Plus, my body couldn't tell either. The relief you get from sweat evaporating was being trapped inside and I was getting hotter and hotter while my body was sweating more and more. I needed to lose the tights and long sleeve shirt and it would have been the oasis I was searching for. Secondly, why the hell did I eat the PB&J? I never eat like that and why I picked the first third of a moutain race to start is beyond me. Part of it was because I was really freaking hungry from not eating much at all for breakfast and knowing I need something for the second half. About three miles after eating it I threw it up. That provided some temporary relief until the cramps kicked in full bore.

I'm hot, cramping, thirsty but I'm carrying water, doubting myself and trying to just shuffle down the descents all the while thinking that I can't even run down the mountains. What the hell just happened? Running happened. I just had the best 25 mile run of my life. Next to playing with my children, nothing is as magical as being on top of a mountain while you soak up the brilliance of the giant sun, surrounded by the bluest sky imaginable. All for $100 bucks and they have snacks. I had conversation about running with a bunch of new Facebook Friends and had about a five hour conversation with God. Running that race is the closet thing to being in church and actually feeling like I belong. I believe in this. Humbling, providing clarity into how I fit into this massive universe. How insignificant and tiny we really are but yet the dichotomy of how little old me can take one step and then another step and we can make even the greatest of feats achievable.

I started running to finish. Then I ran to go fast. Next, I ran to go new places. Now, I run because I believe in it.

So to recap, this race is hard as hell. Have a plan, eat, drink, dress, and rest right. Then, look around and be amazed that somehow your life has worked out and you are standing on the top of a mountain, wearing shorts, doing something you love, surrounded by an indescribable natural gifts and lucky to be alive.

Unrealistic Expectations

Many times it's just necessary to back up and reevaluate the situation you are in and see what you can do to improve it. Waiting on others to read your mind or voluntarily see what you see is not a program you can rely on. Also holding others to standards that you hold yourself to can be difficult when your own personal standards are just higher than other. I actually don't believe my frustrations of late have anything to do with me having personal higher standards, they have to do with me having a higher than normal activity level.

I have to be busy, it's just the way I am. I would imagine I would have been labeled ADHD had my parents not known one of the best ways to manage my disease. You notice I said my disease, I think attention deficit disorder is different in all cases and needs to be treated as such. Well my parents fix was two-fold. When I came home from school, or during the summer as soon as chores were done it was outside until dinner and then back inside once the sun went down. During the school year it was sports and extracurriculars. This wasn't rocket science, keep me busy.

This is where my unrealistic expectations jump up and bite me. Most people want to relax, watch tv, maybe go to a movie, or have a nice evening out. I have to make a calendar note so that I remember to do those things. Doing nothing is an action and I need to spend more time chilling.

Running Redemption

Getting back up after you fall down is vital to your health. If you stay down too long you will be run over or crushed by the unrelenting wait of disappointment. Saturday was my day to shrug off that weight and get my confidence back.

When someone tells you, "oh don't worry it was a good learning experience." Try not to punch them in the face immediately but instead try to see what they see and take a listening approach. Their best intentions is their only motivation and might not understand the full depth of your frustrations at that point. For me, the best thing is to get out there and try again. This weekend at the Kansas City Corporate Challenge 1/2 Marathon was my chance to try again. Here is another little secret to building your confidence back up. Instead of attempting to go right back out and PR a marathon I went the 1/2 marathon route instead. My training was ratcheted back following Boston so a full at a hard pace was doable but not advisable. I want to get better not get set back. It just so happened that the KCCC 1/2 fell right into an open date on my calendar and I just so happened to be "coaching" the men's team. That meant showing up, putting up our giant flag, making sure we had drinks and snacks, and not leaving until everyone was done. That is my kind of coaching. Hell, you don't just sign up for a 1/2 marathon because you think it would be fun, at least you don't if you are normal and it's your first one.

I was blessed with a group of six dudes who had all ran one and were comfortable with the distance. Just show up and run along and everyone will be all good. I had decided I wanted to push the pace on this one and see what I could do. I also wanted brush the remaining lingering effects of the bad race karma from Boston off my soul and this provided that cleansing.

The race itself was not that unique to write about other than it was a modified out and back, you did the first three around the start area and then ran out on a trail for 4.5 and then back the same 4.5 and then one mile to the finish. I did enjoy seeing all my teammates/coworkers and get some encouraging shouts. It was mild 70 degrees with a nice firm breeze and some puffy clouds rolled in on the second half to provide some much needed shade. I finished with a new PR of 1:26:09 for a half, which was over three minutes faster than my previous best.

My main takeaways were this: Rest is important, starting early is the best for me, pace bands are slightly overrated, I don't need a watch, and music was cool. I got to bed early on Friday since Emily was out of town. The girls went to bed so I went to bed. I awoke at 4:45am to get dressed, load the girls into the car, drive over to the in-laws and drop off the kids, and then drive to the heart of JoCo Kansas and get ready to run. During all the early morning corralling, I managed to forget my pace band which caused me to not know the splits I was supposed to be hitting. I did I have my phone which allowed me to track my run with "map my run" app and listen to GirlTalk as I cruised along. I was supposed to go out in 7:00 minutes per mile but the little voice in my ear told me I hit the first mile in 6:27 which was a bit faster than planned. Who cares? I felt good and decided just to see how long I could hang on. Evidently, quite awhile. The music wasn't the distraction that I thought it would be and allowed me to focus less on any pains or tweeks and more on keeping up a high stride turnover and minimal wasted movement in my upper body. Mission accomplished. High beat per minute do help me and allow me to focus on keeping a higher pace and less on getting into my head on what hurts or why I should slow down.

I am back.

Worst to First U6 Girls Soccer Magic

Oh happy days are here again! After a cold, hard struggle this winter the KC Kicks were able to get their groove back and ascend to the top of the U6 Advanced NSA League Table. Sounds impressive, why thank you it wasn't easy. We took a chance by playing up an age group and indoors and with a goalie, lept from that nest a bit early, struggled to get our wings underneath us and crashed into a bush. Lucky for us that bush kept the big predators at bay but not before inflicting some damage. I had one girl quit, lots of sad faces and small amounts of fun. That's not cool.

Somehow the girls stuck it out and we regrouped as the first warm rays of spring warmed our hardened wintered hearts. Overly dramatic...possibly, the way I felt after six consecutive losses...spot on. Some new life was also blown into our team with the addition of three new players. Grace, Helen, and Sophia brought their talents to the Kicks and have been a pleasant addition. My plan is working. Not only am I managing to keep the original seven together from two years ago, I'm starting to get some of their friends. We have ten girls on the team now which led to me splitting them into two team for games. We continued to practice as one team but in an effort to maximize playing time it made more sense to just have two teams. On the whole one team went 7-0-1 and one went 4-4. Combined that is 11-4-1. Their were five teams in our league and two of the other teams were one team that split like us as well. Their combined record was 8-8 so in my warped overly competitive mind we won the solo title and the combined championship. That's like two titles.

Last night was our award banquet. We had pizza, a cookie cake, they played arcade games and my youngest kept asking me for my card so she could get some money. I told her so this is how's it's going to be will all these women in my life. I gave trophies to the kids and medals and certificates to the parents. Literally it is like an giant exhale for me after that party is over. Another season in the books, the girls are markedly better, we are having lots of fun, the team is growing, and we are winning. Damn it feels good.

She's Going the Distance

Hugh props to my wife after a fine performance at the Mother's Day 5K at Corporate Woods in the KC Metro. She has really taken to this running thing and I can tell by our conversation following the race yesterday. My wife like to have running partners. She prefers the social aspect of running with her girlfriends. Talking about their kids, husbands, boyfriends, and life in general she uses it not only for fitness but for funness. The solo road is my cup of tea but we run for different reasons which makes our bond even stronger.

During the race her partner wanted to walk a few times but Emily refused only encouraging her to keep going and that it will be over before you know it. Not walking is a particularly important step for relatively new runners depending on the distance. While I use my own version of the run, walk, run method I think slowing down at aid stations is a good idea but during a 5K you should be able to run at some sort of pace if that is your goal. My wife started out by just wanting to run one hundred yards at a time. Now 5K's are losing their challenge and that leads to point number two. She asked me after the race if I could sign her up for a 10K. Watch out! That is taking it to another level. That is impressive. Before I know it she will be doing a ten miler at Wyandotte with me.

I can't wait.

Now I Remember Why I Run.

I used to remember everything. Every slight, real or preconceived, injury, insult, setback, or injustice but anymore I think my forgetter is getting better. It is claimed that in addiction one of the reasons that addicts keeping making the same mistake over and over is because they "forget" the consequences of the last bender or the appeal of the fix is so strong that the painful memories of the past are suppressed. Running is a way for me to "forget" about the failures of yesterday or the mistakes in the past. It's a time when I feel spiritually connected to God without the material distractions that make up so much of our time.

Yesterday, I exorcised the demons from Boston and got my mind right. I would rather not belabor  my Boston Marathon experience but some background is necessary. I classify it in a couple of ways. Take out the DNF from the actual racing event and ask me to judge all of the Boston Marathon and I will give you a two word answer...the best. It is a world class event, with world class volunteers and organizers. The hype is justified and the experience is one that I will never forget.

I do have one takeaway that I feel that is absolutely necessary to share with any level of runner. From just starting out running around your block to doing twenty-four hour endurance challenges. Running can kill you only if YOU let it. Remember in 2007 when a runner died at the Chicago Marathon it was very similar to this year's Boston; high in the upper 80's with humidity. Here is where I want everyone reading this to be completely honest with yourself and if you come away with the same answer as me then you need to check your head. 

I trained for two years to make Boston. I ran constantly, speed work and hills, long runs and tempos, rain, shine, snow and sleet, blazing summer, with one singular focus, to qualify for Boston and sub three hours there. I mean I did nearly 700 miles this year BEFORE Boston. My wife sacrificed her time so I could run, my work allowed me to run at lunch, I missed my kids practices and events so I could run. It was all about me, me, me. I claimed to be running for others but it's a solo act when you boil it down and it was about me. I tapered correctly, got down to 165 pounds, was eating right, prepared, prepared, prepared and new that I was going to sub three hours, NOTHING was going to stop me. The Boston Athletic Association sent out numerous emails the days before begging people to slow down and enjoy the race. They even took the drastic step by offering FREE entry into next year's race if you were willing to drop out. They were encouraging quitting? Are you serious? That should have been the final signal to slow down and consider just running for fun. Running for fun? Shit, when was the last time I ran for fun? Maybe to my car running with Ruby but not in a race. I ran to either win or prove something.

So race day comes and I get to the athlete's village and it's already hot. I wasn't the least bit worried. I was 100% convinced that the heat would not affect me. No way. I trained too long and too hard to just "enjoy" the experience. What a bunch of crap, that's for softies. I went out and hit my splits until mile eight and by mile sixteen I knew it was all over. In the twenty four hours after the race I lost about seventeen pounds and at one point thought I might die. I'm not kidding. I made some terrible decisions but made one right one and that was quitting. Finishing crossed my mind but I was afraid I wouldn't make it physically and I was thinking about my kids, damn responsibilities.

Ask yourself, you trained for years, you have it built up as the be all and end all of races. I had visions of grandeur, of going out on top and riding off into the sunset. This was to be my last marathon I raced in. It was going to be my PR. I saw myself lifting up my girls, being hugged by my wife and one of my best friends; all this hard work culminating with the pinnacle in marathoning. Not to mention I had told everyone I knew how fast I was going to run and how to track me. I thought I was going to let everyone close to me down and leave them disappointed. I put that pressure squarely on me but I like that pressure. So when you factor all that up what would you do? You would run as fast as you can. Then you get depressed when it all goes to hell.

Yesterday, my soul was healed. My spiritual connection to God was hooked back up and it was like mainlining positive thoughts and love straight into my brain. I woke up yesterday and it looked like rain. The first thing that popped into my head was I need to get to Wyandotte County Park to run. The woods have a mysterious pull on me. I grew up in playing in them in Cape Girardeau, Missouri and feel some sort of physical attraction to being out running around by the trees. My wife left early to pick up the girls from a slumber party so I was along with my thoughts. Kind of scary. It's like going into a dark alley by yourself, you shouldn't do it. It started raining outside. I went downstairs and started shuffling around the house. I looked at Charlotte the dog and decided to go run. In less than ten minutes I had all my gear, extra towels, loaded up the car and drove to the park. It was raining so hard on the drive I could barely see. I started laughing out loud to myself. As the deluge continued I was looking more and more forward to this run.

When Charlotte and I got out of the car we were soaked in no time flat. She was bounding around, raring to go, while I tried to figure out some tracking app on my phone. We were off. Splashing, slipping, falling, and laughing, then we finished the first mile. Nine more, this is great. The woods make a great umbrella and you would be surprised by how loud the woods can be when the rain is coming in sheets. The trail was a big puddle for the first few miles and was a bit more manageable in parts but on the whole conditions were not ideal for fast but ideal for running. That was the whole point. I didn't see anyone the entire time that wasn't in a car. You catch glimpses of the road as you weave through the park so the occasional truck lumbered by but no runners or horses. I did see about ten deer and also what was a first for me. Two turtles walking straight down the middle of the trail. I'm sure they were just out looking for food but they startled me. I stopped and said hello to them and was on my way. There are a few times when you break from the woods, literally rip from the woods they are gnarly right now, with thick roots, vines, huge leaves and tons of growth, try and tell me we don't have more carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Anyway, you explode into a wide open grassy expanse. Yesterday those expanses were draped in low hanging mist. No sun to speak of but a warm glow to the hills. A warm eighty degrees that was offset by cold drops of water smashing into my head providing a tiny chill and some needed relief. I might has well of been skipping I was so happy. Running just for fun. Slopping up the hills and sliding down the other side. I was disappointed when I was done but couldn't stop grinning. I felt sooooooo good.

Now I remember, this is why I run. If you are running and it's burden then you need to reexamine why you are running. I feel like the Boston sized hole in my soul is now closed. I was running because I thought I was proving something to myself and to you. Now I'm running for the only reason necessary, because I love it. 

Boston Marathon An Abbreviated Recap

This is the email I wrote to my friends and family after I got back from the Boston Marathon. I hope to write a longer post on the experience later. I felt like I needed to get this out there so anyone who has been waiting to hear about my race here you go. While the race was not as planned the experience of Boston is the greatest pre-race experience I have ever been part of.

Hello Friends and Family,

I thought it might make sense to just send out a mass email to all my friends and family about what happened at yesterday's Boston Marathon. I'm going to give the somewhat abbreviated version since I am laying in bed and my skull is pounding.

It started like any other race day. I ate the same things I always eat, at the same time I always do. It was already in the 80's before we even started and I could tell due to the fact I was already sweating before we even started. That's not good for me but more on that later. My goal was 2:59:59 and the Boston Athletic Association had already send out numerous warning about slowing down and hydrating. They also took the unprecedented step of issuing you free entry into next year's race if you would withdraw. (they didn't want people dying and now I understand the true seriousness of the warning) If I hadn't trained so long and brought the wife and kids I may have withdrawn, but probably not because as you know I think I am indestructible and think fairly highly of myself. HA! At about mile 8 I knew I was in trouble. I went out normally, fairly slow keeping to my splits for each mile. At mile 8 I was about 30 seconds over where I should be and doubts were creeping in. I started getting pains in my sternum and the middle of my back. My fingers were getting tingly and I was honestly afraid I was having a heart attack which made me freak out a little. At mile 13 I was only 5 minutes over my pace and was happy in a weird way but new it was only a matter of time until I stopped. This is when I started thinking about what Red Cross station I was going to stop at. I really wanted to make it through Wesleyan College where all the girls go nuts. Imagine that. At mile 16 I think a volunteer nurse helped me make a decision that may have saved me from permanent damage. I was walking in the middle of the road, and mind you there are thousands of runners on the whole course it's insane, and she yells out to me, "are you okay?" I started crying and said "no". I walked over sat down and said I'm done. I was one of the hardest and most disappointing things I have ever had to do. I mean I put in a lot of miles, nearly 700 this year already, Emily has made tremendous sacrifices to help me get to here, Jason and Anne opened their home to my insane kids and were so amazing at getting us where we needed to be without any complaints. Not to mention all the people I had told I was running this, what my goal time was, etc, etc.. I had set expectations and had the utmost confidence I would smash them. Funny how 89 degree heat will throw a wrench in those plans. I got on an aid bus and went to the finish line. Jason, Emily and the kids picked me up and then the flight home from hell begun. In hindsight I should have gone to the hospital but money, flight changes, and my stubbornness thought otherwise. I am doing much better and am laying in bed as I write this. I will be going back to sleep once I get done with this but I felt I owed all of you an update or explanation on what happened. All of you on this, in one way or another supported me in life not just running and I was thinking about all of you as I was going home. It is overwhelming to know how many people care about me and I can at least show my appreciation by giving you a rundown of the events. I'm okay. I'm feeling much better and will not be running for awhile.

22,500 races qualified. 4500 withdrew before the race. Over 2500 quit during the race. Geoffrey Mutai, of Kenya and a previous winner, had to quit at mile 18 due to heat and cramps. Not bad company to keep in the quitting department.

Who knows what silver lining will come out of this. I'm not too worried about it. I tried hard, learned some lessons, and live to run another day.

A heartfelt thank you to every single one of you for your thoughts, prayers, and good vibes you sent my way for this race. It will be alright.

Ben

Soccer Madness and Lessons Learned

It's been one of those months when you try to squeeze in a lot and potentially don't do justice to the things you squeezed in. Soccer has been something else. That is the most polite way I can describe it. We are in way over our heads and I have at times lost sight of the point and been too hard on the girls especially my own. Balance that with the fact we have gotten better every game, the girls keep coming and laughing and having fun but we keep making some of the same mistakes over and over again. I have finally realized how I can fix them but it's going to be hard to do until the spring season.

Right now we are practicing inside and they make tremendous strides when we are together, the hard part is not being able to orchestrate them when they are out on the field. Rather than stay in their spaces or zones they tend to group up when the ball hits the wall and allow their opponents to get in behind them. When our goalie get the ball we allow the other team to get in between our goalie and us causing cheap goals frequently. I need to be on the field more and the field needs to be smaller from them. There is a reason while USA Youth Soccer has recommended field sizes and numbers of players per team. 3v3, 4v4, etc. http://www.usyouthsoccer.org/index.html

On the other hand we have seen great single game goal keeping efforts from numerous girls and Ruby plays keeper like her hair is on fire and it's good action to watch her get after it. Previously, I mentioned that we are playing up, if I have one piece of advice for any parents with five and six year olds playing soccer. Play in your age group. We have no business playing under seven and thankfully all of the coaches we have gone against don't run it up on us and try to work on things. So for them we are nothing more than a practice. We are getting better and they are still having fun I have to remind myself to keep my focus on fun. I confess that at times I'm not loving it as much as I should. The only reason for that is I am looking at this from the wrong perspective. Losing sucks to me and I get down when we don't play well. The girls aren't that interested in winning and losing. Scoring a few goals, being with their friends outside of school, possibly getting to hang out after the game with a friend, and potentially fruit snacks (kid crack) these are the things important to a six year old girl. Written by a thirty three year old man. wow.

Lying to Your Kids

I got caught in bold faced lie...by my three year old.

You know you try to do the right thing, read to your kids every night before they go to bed, say a prayer, and then think of an excuse to get the hell out of their room. They just want you to lay by them because it makes them feel safe and happy. Somewhere deep in your mind you remember how comforting it was to have mom or dad lay down for a few minutes and help you go to sleep.

For the past year after finishing reading with Alice I would say,  "I'm going to take a shower okay, time to got to sleep."

She would respond, "okay Daddy come in here after."

I dropped this little white lie because I knew that if I told her that, she would fall asleep when I was in the shower so I wouldn't be coming back to her room. Innocent ruse I would play on her because I shower at work after I get done working out, so I don't typically shower at night before bed. Most of the time I would just tell her I'm taking a shower and go watch the news or some sports.

Last night my bluff was called. "I'm going to take a shower, time to go to sleep Alice."

"Daddy?"

"What's up kido?"

"How come sometimes when you say you are going to take a shower I never hear the water come on?"

Damn, damn, damn. How do I squirm out of that one? I decided to come clean and explain that it's time for her to be a big girl and go to bed after we get done reading and praying. I apologized for not telling her the truth and was truly humbled by a three year old.

We want our kids to be happy and strong and in our want for them we end up protecting them from stuff that makes them happy and strong. Having her grow up and realize that someone isn't always going to be next to her making everything alright is just part of growing up...for both of us.

beingbenkeefe: Taking a Beating Like a Man

beingbenkeefe: Taking a Beating Like a Man: "I heard the game was a bit lopsided?" says Mrs. G. "Lopsided? Thanks for being kind." I replied. This was the email conversation I had...

Taking a Beating Like a Man

"I heard the game was a bit lopsided?" says Mrs. G.

"Lopsided? Thanks for being kind." I replied.

This was the email conversation I had with one of the kid's parents on my soccer team following our 15-1 beat down at the hands of Legacy Lady Fireballs. Legacy Lady Fireballs, the name alone should give you some expectation of what we will be facing in our first year of indoor club team soccer. After just typing that sentence I am beginning to understand the astonishment of my wife when I told her that Ruby's team would be playing U7 (that's seven and under - big difference than under seven) indoor soccer this Winter.

Pink Elephants, Yellow Bugs, White Lightning, and now the KC Kicks. In the two years we have been together we have gone from seven girls to nine and only losing one of the original seven along the way while gaining three more. So the Kicks are growing, becoming friends, and having fun. In an effort to increase our fun I signed up our team for the Winter session at the Tiffany Athletic Zone a brand spanking new facility in Northwest Kansas City. Originally, I signed up the team for U6 but the Director of TAZ asked me if we would be interested in playing U7. This is where communication between me (the coach) and the facilities director could have been much better. I was under the impression that she asked us to move up to U7 because they were short on teams in Girls U7 and they didn't have many Girls U6. Both are true but I construed them in such a way I thought it was in everyone's best interest if we moved up. Ultimately I think it will pay off but first we are going to learn to take a beating like a man.

Saturday was that beating. I swear it looked like the other team were pros. At least a head taller, built like tiny Hercules, fast as cheetahs, and with moves like Jagger they overwhelmed us. Remember, most of these girls we will be playing are seven years old, are all on club teams, practice three times a week, and play all year long. Next summer will mark the first full year of our team playing almost all year long with practices once a week. Thankfully, the Lady Legacy Fireballs are coached by an acquaintance of mine and he is using games against us like a competitive practice. The league is pretty inexpensive so it's worth it. They passed it around, back to their goalie, off the wall and nearly half volleyed one into the goal, it was breathtakingly good soccer.

Part way through the second half the assistant director came over and told the referee to stop  changing the score. It was 11-1 at the time. Nonsense, we kept score ourselves and I told the girls at the end of the game what it actually was and I told them to be proud of the game they played. We had a few firsts here that should be mentioned.


1. Our first game with a goalie (mind blowing to most of them)
2. Our first game indoors ever.
3. Our first 6v6 game.
4. Three new players on the team
5. Our first time playing a club team
6. We took our first penalty kick
7. We scored our first indoor goal ever

I love these kids, they never once put their heads down, cried, or got gave up. They may have been defeated on the score board but we won a victory in our hearts and minds. We are going to take some more of these defeats and as long as the parents can have the same intestinal fortitude as these little girls we will be just fine. We can play with anybody.