My Journey to the Finish Line: The Last Mile

"All endeavor calls for the ability to tramp the last mile, shape the last plan, endure the last hour's toil. The fight to the finish spirit is the one...characteristic we possess if we are to face the future as finishers."

- Henry David Thoreau

Bellwood Avenue. Almost always the start of my jogs and runs, and very often the final mile. I have run on it in nearly every condition and season I can fathom: Sun, rain, snow, wind, and darkness of the night. It was on this road that I wrapped up my marathon training three days ago. I am physically and mentally ready for the Big Day tomorrow.

Months turned into weeks, weeks into days, and now I tick off the final hours before I toe the start line at Verazzano-Narrows bridge in Staten Island. The marathon will take me through a delightful, and sometimes painful, on-the-ground sightseeing tour of NYC like never before. It will go through all five boroughs, cross 5 bridges, and end at my favorite haunt in Manhattan - Central Park.

In my mind, I am a Kenyan and Ethiopian, but I know I cannot keep up with those flighty runners from the East African highlands. My only goal is to finish, whether it takes 4 hours (my predicted time), 4 and a half hours (in order to get my name in the NY Times), or 6 hours (to get my finisher's medal). Today is the Day of Arafah (Day of Repentance) in Mecca, where nearly 2 million pilgrims are beseeching God for forgiveness for a lifetime of sins. Tomorrow they will celebrate the end of the Hajj, but my Day of Reckoning will just be starting.

I intend to enjoy the company of my 45,000+ fellow runners, buoyed by cheers from the nearly 2 million spectators lining the streets of New York, entertained by the 130 performance groups, and nourished by the volunteers at the fluid and medic stations. With these welcome distractions, I will probably ignore my iPod. But at some point, I will need motivation from within. "Run, Jawaad, Run!" will be followed by "Labayk, Allahumma, Labayk (Here I am, O Lord)", leading to "Push, push, push!" in the final miles.

I will be a Starter on Verazzano, the King of Queensboro (Bridge), a Reveler on First Avenue, and a Finisher in Central Park.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

-Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening

Random Fun Facts:
Longest distance (in training): 20.56 miles
Total training miles: 285.6 miles
Total training runs: 45
Total training time: 43 hours
Calories burned: 29600 (211 large chocolate chip cookies)

My Journey to the Finish Line: Running by Moonlight

"At night, when the sky is full of stars and the sea is still, you get the wonderful sensation that you are floating in space."

- Natalie Wood

Two nights ago, I ran 8 miles around the neighborhoods near my house. I was afraid that I would trip over something and hurt myself, as there are several stretches along my route that do not have street lights or are overshadowed by trees. But I was greatly relieved to step out my front door and see brilliant almost full moon directly overhead. And I was off, my feet dancing in a straight line between alternating patches of jet black asphalt and the faint orangeish hues cast by the overhead sodium streetlights.

Running at night is truly a surreal experience. For one thing, it is dark. Darkness conceals my reliable frames of reference I use to judge my pace. I feel I am running faster when I am actually running a bit slower. Silly double and triple shadows! However, the beauty of running in the dark is that I cannot see - see what is up ahead. If I cannot see what challenges lie ahead, I am not afraid of them. Like the hills, my nemesis. My least favorite parts of any route are the inclines. I like going downhill, feet cycling without abandon, but what goes down must come up, right? But the night hides the hills and I don't see them - I feel them. During the day, I have to plan to adjust my speed and energy when running up hills. At night, my feet dictate the rhythm and adapt to the grade.

Running at night is like being in a cocoon - perhaps being in a plane at cruise altitude, or even being at the top of a mountain with powerful thunderstorms miles and miles away. It is quiet and you can see the flashes of lightning, but the laggard roll of thunder is muted. You can see action beyond, but for now you are just floating by, oblivious to the fray. At least, that's what's going through my head at mile number 3, as I zoom by the houses on Milburn Street, with their occupants already tucked in and departed on their nightly sojourns.

I take a swig of my energy drink around mile number 4, glancing at my watch to check my time, and turning to look behind me, perceiving the red flashes of my taillight bouncing off the sidewalk. I look ahead to focus on the darkest stretch of my run up Hawkins Avenue, shielding my eyes from the glare of the oncoming headlights. The lights eventually drop away, giving way to the dazzling moonlight reflecting off the red and yellow strips of my safety vest.

Mile number 5. I turn off Hawkins Avenue onto Ruland Drive, at the southwest corner of the Strathmore Village subdivision. Running up the winding uphill stretch, I nearly slip on a hidden pile of sand. I recover quickly, only for the muted sanctity of the night to be shattered by several dogs barking from the safety of their owners' yards. I guess it was too early for the dogs to be sleeping. A car alarm goes off as I pass another driveway, and I startle a group of friends sitting on the curb as I round the crest of the hill. But slowly I settle back into the rhythm, streetlights approaching with regularity.

Mile number 6. During the day, the flow of my runs are governed by what I see and hear, and the beat of my heart. At night, I start to appreciate the keenness of my other senses - what my feet feel along the road and how my fingers respond to the breeze. But my strengthened sense of smell is what truly amazes me. I can smell the gentle fragrance of the blooming perennials I cannot see, the welcoming musty smell of sprinkled water falling on freshly cut grass and dry earth, the wafting odor of dying charcoal embers from a recent barbecue. The night in general is more pleasing to the olfactory bulb than the day. Surprisingly overwhelmed by the cornucopia of smells, I look towards the sky to clear my nose and observe thousands of stars in the sky (millions if not for the brightness of the moon). The sight truly gives a sensation of floating in space. Suddenly, my vision is obscured by a covering of leaves and I quickly look down and turn to avoid running into a tree.

Mile number 7. Another steep hill and now I am definitely getting tired. A car is idling on a driveway, and a couple of people are standing next to it, deep in conversation, but looking at me and scratching their heads. I run by a couple of sprinklers, seeking to cool down my aching legs. Back onto Strathmore Village Drive and up one last hill, a sharp pain emanates from my left ankle. My body, specifically my Achilles tendon, is awake now and warning me that it is almost time to go home.

Mile number 8. I slow down a bit - cannot afford to have my ankles quit and leave me sidelined for a while. I exit the Strathmore Village neighborhood about 6 minutes later onto the sidewalks of Wireless Road. I pick up speed, goaded by the headlights of the cars behind me, but am still going at a comfortable pace, crossing when it is safe, I re-enter my neighborhood and sprint for the last 20 seconds, thinking of the lime- and raspberry- flavored popsicle sticks waiting for me in my freezer. My feet stop. I'm finally home.

"If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years, how man would marvel and stare."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Random Running Statistics:
Total distance run - 98 miles
Total time run - 856 minutes (14 hours 16 minutes)
Number of runs - 21
Maximum heart rate - 188 bpm
Minimum heart rate - 144 bpm

My Journey to the Finish Line: The Spirituality of Running

"Your aim is before you. Behind your back is the hour which is driving you on. Keep (yourself) light and overtake (the forward ones). Your last ones are being awaited by the front ones."

- Imam Ali (A.S.), Sermon 21, Nahjul Balagha (Peak of Eloquence)

My grandfather was right when he said, "Why do I need to go to the mosque to find God? I see God in the trees on the golf course." At the time, my eight year-old brain processed these utterances as mere excuses to avoid the throngs of people at the mosque in the heart of Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania. Only now do I truly realize the profound truth in my grandfather's words, especially when I go on my runs. I, like most runners, am plugged into my MP3 player while flying or trudging along, but the melodious wisps floating through my earbuds are just background noise for my private conversations within myself and with God.

Running in itself is a very laborious and boring task, and accompanying music only soothes a little or may provide a little motivational spark. Some runners repeat personal mantras over and over again, while others rack their minds for a little bit of creative ingenuity to attack a problem they might be having. Yet others just clear their mind. For me, the sometimes physical monotony leads to a sort of spiritual cleansing. I ponder why I am here, and why in my right mind am I seeking to accomplish a goal my body was not built for? I get a little startled at my little epiphany and think I may be a little crazy, but just then I notice the flora and fauna surrounding me. I regularly encounter blue jays, cardinals, pigeons, rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks on my morning runs. Just when the heat and humidity conspire to slow me down, I get a boost by seeing all the spectacular flowers in full bloom. And in my mind I ponder, yet again, why am I here? I may be running the marathon to perhaps prove to myself that I can push my body to the limit and accomplish something that I may not have thought possible before. Maybe it is something to cross off my bucket list. But perhaps, it is the journey to get to the starting line, and the trials and tribulations that I will encounter during the race itself, more important than the end reward. It is a journey that reveals that I am not doing this of my own volition and by myself, but there is something greater guiding me along, gently reminding me of His presence with all these wonderful signs, nature's beauty which I would not have paid attention to if I had not forsaken those few precious minutes of sleep to go running. God is truly a great running partner.

It is with these thoughts bouncing around in my head that I approach the spiritual angle of the marathon with excitement and anxiousness. I fondly remember my many snippets of exciting moments when I ran the Buffalo Half Marathon in May 2009, but one of my most poignant memories was my 8th or 9th mile through South Buffalo, just when exhaustion was starting to creep in. Outside a small church was a pair of balding friars in their simple brown habits. These men of God looked like they could use a few laps around their house of worship. What really boosted my flagging energy was the bright smiles on their faces and the words of encouragement they imparted to each and every runner. I high-fived them and continued on my merry way, revitalized. With these recollections still fresh in my mind, I cannot wait to experience Miles 4 and 5 on Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn. As Liz Robbins describes it in A Race Like No Other, it is a smorgasbord of various houses of worship, ranging from churches to synagogues to mosques. As Father Francisco Rodriguez eloquently puts it, "Runners are not doing this to win, but to finish. They are serving a higher purpose on this day."

"We felt we were going out to bless the people running. But what started happening was we were blessed."

- Pastor Frank Haye, as quoted in Liz Robbins' A Race Like No Other

Random Statistics

Number of runs: 18
Total miles run: 83
Time run: 725 minutes (12 hours 5 minutes)
Longest run: 10.13 miles

My Journey to the Finish Line

"The marathon demands determination and courage. The event should not be taken lightly; it asks us to reach down and test our mettle; rise above our limits, to become more disciplined, and to make substantial sacrifices. The rewards are unique: a sense of achievement beyond the scope of words."

-Toby Tanser, The Essential Guide to Running the New York City Marathon

It is almost the beginning of the 6th week of my training, with 104 days remaining before the Big Day. Most of the participants in this year's edition of the NYC Marathon have just completed the first week of their 16-week program. The journey to the starting line at the foot of the Verrazano-Narrows in Staten Island, New York has been months in the making, starting January 11th of this year. However, my 18-week training plan officially began the week of June 19th, and I completed just over 11 miles in 3 runs.

To prepare for the challenges past and upcoming, I had to move up the start of my training program. I completed the 3rd run of my first week while traveling to a conference in the Appalachians of the southwest corner of Pennsylvania. Lately, I have been battling the extreme heat and humidity by running earlier, skipping over scheduled short runs, or postponing them altogether. My total mileage thus far, 60 miles over 14 runs, is far below what I would have accomplished if I could stick to the plan, but guess what? Life intervened. However, my biggest training challenge is still yet to come. In a week's time, I and a billion of my brothers and sisters in faith will be welcoming the holy month of Ramadhan, where we are not allowed to eat nor drink from before sunrise to after sunset. I do not intend to slack off in my training. Rather, I will curtail my run distances to a maximum of 7-8 miles (60-70 minutes of continuous running) and do them at night, about 2 hours after I open my fast in order to avoid cramping. Yes, this will mark the return of 10:30-midnight runs, stored in my memories since I last participated in them with Michael and Peter around the NTU campus in Singapore 6 years ago.

These challenges can and will be a little trying, but a little toughness will strengthen my resolve, boost my endurance, and make me yearn for perseverance during what could be the hardest and most unique 26.2 miles of my life, shared with 45,000 fellow runners and 2 million spectators. The physical fine-tuning is well underway, but it will all be a waste if my mind doesn't arrive with my body at the starting line on Sunday, November 6th, 2011. I expanded my summer reading list beyond scientific articles just for this purpose, with tomes such as Toby Tanser's The Essential Guide to Running the New York City Marathon and Liz Robbin's A Race Like No Other populating my bookshelf, side table, and dresser. I've only just started reading other runners' accounts of their experiences before and during past NYC Marathons, and I cannot help but be psyched. I just have to keep this runner's high for a 104 more days and then let my endorphins take over for the final hours of this journey. Over the next 15 weeks, I will be logging and detailing my highs and lows in this incredible journey, and hopefully entertaining you. With that, I leave you with a particularly poignant quote from Liz Robbin's A Race Like No Other:

"Marathoners push themselves to the edge of insanity and exhaustion, because when they look back on those 26.2 miles, the view is profoundly satisfying. They see where they have been and what they have become."

Random Statistics

Number of runs: 14
Total distance: 59.63 miles
Total time: 525.15 minutes (8 hours 45 minutes)
Fastest average pace: 7 m 55 sec per mile (3.99 mile run)
Fastest average speed: 7.56 mph

Buffalo Half Marathon

As I crossed the finish line, arms raised in the air, I reflected on the emotions of the previous 1:54:08 and the journey that took me to the starting line....

Anxiety. Nervousness. Determination. Frustration. Pain. Focus. Anticipation. Strength. Humility. Camaraderie. Inspiration. Motivation. Exuberance. Confidence. Exultation. Exhilaration. Joie de vivre.

My alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. on the morning of May 24th. My hand crawled out from under the cozy warmth of the comforter, up the nightstand, and reached over to my cell phone to hit the "Dismiss" button. I carefully shimmied out from the cocoon of the bed and stumbled off to prepare for the big day. After getting dressed, I carefully tiptoed down the stairs as to not wake up my dad and brother, made myself a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and poured a glass of milk, and sat in the relative darkness of the kitchen to ponder on my game plan. While waiting for my friends Bryan and Jen to pick me up, I went over the day's weather forecast and attempted to decode the route that I was supposed to run. Showers at 11 a.m. Hmmm, no big deal, I thought, at least I will be done by then. Some online reviewers of the course said that adjustment to avoid construction would take us over some overpasses, negating the reputation of the route as fast and flat. I am not a big fan of hills, and still blamed the overpasses for slowing me down and knocking the wind out of me during the Suffolk County Half Marathon nearly two months earlier. Before the mental games set in, I quickly exited the house and sat on the front stoop, took deep breaths, and looked out at the lightening sky as the sun began its long ascent above the horizon.

Just after 6 a.m., my ride arrived. I reacquainted myself with Bryan and Jen, whom I hadn't seen in almost 5 years, while we zoomed through the empty streets and highways of Western New York, still sleeping on this fine Sunday morning. The conversation was a blur, as I was still waking up. We found a parking spot not too far from the parking line, and strolled along the street to the Hyatt Regency. It was not yet 6:30 a.m. and the place was teeming with several hundred runners. Weaving through the crowded lobby of the Hyatt, I spotted the concierge and asked him to store my bag, which he graciously did. I rejoined Bryan on the other side of the lobby, where he introduced me to Safiyya, a teammate of his from University at Buffalo. While she sauntered off to the starting line, I realized that I needed to use the facilities. I was discouraged by the long lines, and with 15 minutes left, I thought that the urge to relieve myself wasn't pressing, and that I could hold it for a couple more hours. I crossed my fingers and headed outside to join the now bulging crowd heading towards the base of the parking garage at the intersection of Pearl and Huron Streets. While fumbling with my MP3 player and armband, I ran into Safiyya.
"I wish I brought my iPod," she said.
"Don't worry. There are a few thousand people here. You could chat with some of them," I responded.
"True."
The announcer told the crowd to push back further up the street to allow the stragglers room to squeeze into the mass of humanity. Then he extolled on the virtues of the perfect weather of the race day, the perfect elevation of the course, and that we were going to see the beauty of downtown Buffalo. He reminded us to drink water and Gatorade at the stations spaced apart every two miles. He then finished by saying that above all, that we should go out and have fun. Then a singer, who sounded a bit half-awake, croaked out the Canadian and American national anthems. Kudos to her for coming out at 7 a.m. though. The announcer started the 60 second countdown. I quickly wished Safiyya good luck, plonked my sunglasses on my nose, plugged in my earbuds and turned on my MP3 player. I set it to "Stand Up and Be Strong" by Soul Asylum, which always gets me moving, whether it be a short training run or a long race.

Stand up and be strong
It won't take long
You can't go wrong
Stand up and be strong

At 7 a.m. the gun went off, and the runners let out a jubilant roar. 3,222 pairs of feet and 2 sets of wheels thundering down the sleepy streets of Buffalo. We were on our way, and whatever obstacles I might encounter, I was going to finish these 13.1 miles strong. We headed down Pearl Street, and I saw the recently-demolished Aud, with only one wall remaining standing. While it didn't evoke any memories, since I became a fan of the Buffalo Sabres a year after it was closed, I was sad to see it torn down, since I heard so many tales and legends about the old arena. We drifted right towards Niagara Square, around the obelisk and courthouses, and up north on Niagara Street. I was telling Safiyya not to burn herself out and to keep a steady, comfortable pace. "Are you kidding me? I'm just going to take it easy." At this point, there were a few bystanders cheering on the runners, and quite a few gawkers staring on, trying to fathom the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. After a couple miles, Safiyya took off, and I continued on at my pace, vowing to conserve my energy for the strong finish. We rounded into Lasalle Park, and Lake Erie drew into view. Ah, the sight of water re-energized me. I had been wanting to run along the waterfront, and finally it was happening. At the 3-mile mark, and I sighted the first of the water stations. I grabbed a cup of water, drank most of it and tossed the cup away. I then formulated a plan whereby I would alternate water and Gatorade every two miles, since I found that Gatorade really helped me recover faster after each of my training runs. A runner that I passed was wearing a shirt that declared, "In my mind, I am Kenyan." I smiled, recognizing that the race was more a grasp of our inner confidence and mental stamina rather than a feat of physical endurance. We squeezed onto a winding bike path, two abreast, in front of the Lakefront Apartments. A few residents were watching us, but those on the balcony of the last apartment were hollering and cheering and waving noisemakers. I was already starting to like this race.

We then merged onto Erie Basin Marina Drive, and I kept an eye on the oncoming traffic for my friends from middle school, high school, and college who I thought might be running a bit faster than me. As we approached the 5-mile mark at the base of the observation tower, I grabbed a lemon-flavored Gatorade. Going in the opposite direction of that we came from, I once again tried to spot my friends, but couldn't, and just forged ahead. A bunch of runners ran into the restrooms at The Hatch, but by this point, my bladder wasn't sending signals, so I just continued on. Turning near the Naval Park, I heard my name yelled out and saw Bryan standing on the median. I waved to him and ran on, elated that at least someone recognized me among the multitude of runners. Just in front of me, someone was wearing a shirt requesting donations to the Matthew J. Schnirel Memorial Fund. I flashed back to my few memories of Matt, a classmate at Sweet Home Middle School, who passed away in a plane crash in late April 2008. I was glad to know that some of participants were running in his memory. Finally I saw a roadside timer for the 10K mark. 53:20. Not bad, I thought. While it wasn't as good as my 10K time 3 weeks prior, 51:25, I was staying on pace. As we hopped over the above-ground subway tracks and towards HSBC Arena, "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" played over my earbuds. How coincidental, I thought. And ran on.

As we turned onto South and Louisiana Streets, we encountered blaring stereos and cheering spectators, raising a racket with their noisemakers and cowbells. Just before South Park Avenue, we passed a Polish pastry shop, and I thought of paczki ("paunch-kee"), the ubiquitous sugar dusted doughnuts on Fat Tuesday. Running into the store to grab one for the road would be so tempting at this point, but I had to save my indulgences for later. Finishing was my task right now. We zoomed along and merged onto Peabody Street, the eastern boundary of our long route and just after the 9-mile mark. Just after the I-190 overpass, there was a Franciscan friar, in his brown garb and chastity belt, and the head monk in a white habit high-fiving runners as they passed in front of the church. While I was on the other side of the street, I could help but feel a boost of energy. Here were two of God's servants encouraging us to live out our passions. Today was indeed a blessed day. At this point, it started to drizzle. Oh no, I thought, the rain is going to come 2 hours early. Why does it always have to rain when I race? There was nothing I could do except hope that I wasn't going to drench, and perhaps run a bit faster to escape the brunt of the showers if we got caught.

As I crested the Seneca Street bridge over the train tracks, the Lion King song, "Circle of Life," piped through my ears. Perfect! I felt like I had just conquered another mountain and was raising a cub over the plains. I may not be Kenyan, but I was certainly feeling like one now. On and on I ran, water droplets gently whizzing by. Several more bridges and overpasses. It was clear now that this course wasn't going to be run without a fight. I switched to my energy conservation mode, running faster uphill while others slowed down, and running slower downhill as others let their legs go wild. The industrial-looking businesses along Exchange Street looked gloomy in the darkening skies, but I couldn't let them bring me down. I focused on the road ahead. By mile 11, my legs were starting to feel like jelly, but I cleared my mind and pushed on. I very nearly slipped on a train track rail, but steadied myself and continued. I noticed that two of the runners about 30 yards in front of me had been at about the same position since mile 4, but I was slowly falling behind. But I was determined to conserve my energy for the strong finish. I was thankful to them for helping me maintain my pace, but now it was all on me to finish on my own. As we headed down Michigan Avenue towards HSBC Arena, the steady drizzle finally let up and a few rays of sunshine peeked from behind the lifting clouds. Rounding the corner and crossing the train tracks, I spotted a friend from University at Buffalo, walking along the opposite side. "Go Courtney," I yelled. "Hey!," she yelled back. Down Erie Street I went. Four kids were lined up on the curb, hands outstretched. I stuck out my right hand and high-fived them all. "Pas de Problèmes" by Kana played over my MP3 player.

Ne laisse personne t’indiquer
Le chemin que tu t’es tracé
Ne t’en détourne pas, écoute moi
La vérité est toi

(Do not let anyone tell you
The path that you have traced
Do not worry away, hear me
The truth is you)

"Looking good Jawaad!" I lifted my head. Bryan was cheering me on again, about 100 yards from when I first saw him about 50 minutes earlier. I passed the 20K timer. 1:49:35. This was looking like an even better finish than my previous half marathon. One more hill under the Skyway bridge. As I broke onto Franklin Street, I pondered on how I was going to finish. Jump across the finish line? Raise my arms high above my head? Do a funny dance? Spin around? I picked my move and kept a lookout for the finish chute. Crossing Church Street, I sighted it. I could hear the booming announcer clearly: "Bring it. Bring it. BRING IT! Strong finish! STRONG FINISH!" I responded and broke into a sprint, pushing harder, pushing faster. "Here's 1! Here's 2! Here's 3! Looking good! PUSH IT!" I whizzed by the two runners in front of me, finding my second wind, and reached out for the finish line. So close...I could taste my personal victory. Arms raised high, I crossed the finish line, head pounding, feet pounding, but feeling a sense of joy I had never felt before. I did it!

I glanced over at the clock. 1:55:10, more than 4 minutes faster than my previous half marathon, and I wasn't even feeling tired or in pain. Truthfully, I may have been able to go 3 more miles, but this was all about self-control and living in the moment. I got a finisher's medal, a heat blanket, and scooped up some water, orange slices, and a banana, and exited onto the sidewalk, disappearing into a sea of sweaty runners and cheerful spectators.

I took a few deep breaths and crossed over to Pearl Street, where the full marathoners were speeding by, hoping to catch a glimpse of friends who I knew were running as well. It was my lucky day. I called out to Alyssa, from middle school, just as I reached the sidewalk, and spotted John and Paul, who were creating a racket with cowbells and noisesticks. I hadn't seen these guys in more than 11 years, but it sure felt good to meet them. After a few minutes, Jen jogged by, and I had seen nearly everyone who I wanted to meet. I quickly crossed the street, picked up my belongings from the Hyatt, went to the bathroom (yes, two and a half hours holding it in was long enough), wiped away the sweat streaks on my face, and made my way over to Franklin Street, just in time to see Jason Lokwatom of Kenya winning the marathon. If anything, I felt a secret satisfaction that I finished the half marathon before the Kenyan won the whole thing. I was still hoping to see my former boss from the UB Bookstore, Greg, who was cheering on his brother. After a few circuits of the finish area, I finally found him, with his family, right at the end of the full marathon course. We chatted for a while and he introduced me to his brothers. Now, Elena Orlova of Russia finished as the fastest female runner, and more impressively, 3rd overall. I bid my adieus to Greg and his family, went off to the side, and did some stretches.

Josh, a dormmate from college had promised to treat me to coffee. I gave him a call, walked over to the benches on the other side of the Buffalo Metro tracks from the Hyatt, and sat down to enjoy my Gatorade. "Yo!" I looked around. It was Safiyya, my starting line neighbor. She was sitting on the sidewalk, shoes and socks off, enjoying her Cheetos and yogurt. Seems like I had missed the post-race goodies in the Convention Center, but after hearing about pizza, I was satisfied with my Gatorade. She had blasted off after 3 miles, but hit a wall at 10 miles. But she still finished in a respectable 2:03:00, and especially impressive considering that she only started training about a week before. After a bit of chatting and encouraging her to run the half marathon again, I made my way over to the benches to wait for Josh. After a few minutes, he arrived, and we went to Spot's Coffee on Elmwood. I took a coconut-flavored slush and we talked about how life had changed (or not changed) for us since 2003, since we last lived in the same dorm. As we were sitting outside, I saw a few marathoners running by, forced to run on the sidewalk since Buffalo was now awake, and traffic was returning to normal. After about half an hour, Josh dropped me off at UB's South Campus, where I waited for my dad and Nabeel. Then it was time to wind down and enjoy the rest of beautiful Sunday.

Word of the Week 3

Cam∙ber \ kam'bər \ n:

1. A slight convex curve of a surface, as of a road, ship’s deck, or a beam. Sometimes referred to the cant of a surface.
2. In automotive wheel alignment, a slight tilt given to each of a pair of wheels on an axle. [1]

Where first seen or heard: Complete Book of Running [2]

When: May 18^th, 2009

Usage in a sentence: “Be careful when you drive in residential neighborhoods, or the streets’ camber will cause you to jump the curb and wreck someone’s lawn.”

[1] http://www.yourdictionary.com/camber

[2] Burfoot, Amby, ed. Complete Book of Running. Emmaus, PA: Rodale, 2004.

Why I Run

Why I Run...

I run to keep fit
I run to get moving
I run to be inspired
I run to inspire others
I run to look and feel good
I run because I'm motivated
I run to boost my immune system
I run because it sparks my imagination
I run because it increases my creativity
I run because God gave me two feet, and walking just doesn't cut it
I run to practice for the day I may have to outrun a cheetah
I run because it gives me peace of mind
I run to get a breath or two of fresh air
I run to clear my thoughts and reset
I run because it makes me stronger
I run to enjoy the great outdoors
I run to increase my endurance
I run to get motivated
I run to relax
I run because I can