A recent visit with my 95-year-old mom, a resident of a nursing home for the past 7 years or so, is always a delight for me. Especially when she looks back and says things her mom said to her.

When I walked in, she asked if I liked her haircut and new perm job. Of course I did!

She then spoke in German, which was part of her family’s vernacular while growing up. Then she asked if I understood what she said. I told her it was something about her hair.

Good guess! Yes, she said it was something her mother always said, when one of her 11 siblings complained about getting ready for church or on a date. It translated to, “If you want to look pretty, you have to suffer.”

As I left, the thought stuck in my head and I recalled a slogan from Wigwam’s Ultimax Sock, when it was introduced at the Hawaii Ironman Triathlon Championships in 1995, in Kona. It went something like this: “Some run to compete, some because it’s so darn comfortable.”

As a competitive athlete for over three decades, I realized that I compete for other reasons. On the other hand, I really like feeling comfortable while competing. I know my feet have always carried me through my competitions for other reasons than comfort, but without the comfort, my performances would surely have suffered.

What the slogan was trying to get across was whether you are a competitive athlete or a weekend warrior, it is important to feel good about what you have on your feet.

Because I put my feet through more than most athletes, I know without that comfort factor, I would not have reached many of the finish lines I had in sight. Comfort can also mean no blisters, no bunching up in the shoes and no slipping down the ankles.

Since I began testing Ultimax in the mid 1990s, then under the project name of “Absolute”, I have experienced few blisters. In fact, I would have to look through my log books to see if I commented on getting a blister in the past 10 years, other than the one I got this year, while running one night, in a 448-mile race from Turin to Rome, in ankle deep water for 5 hours. That is a long time, with thousands of miles and under many conditions, where most got blisters.

In most cases, getting a blister in a race can result in poor performance or even the dreaded DNF (Did Not Finish). With any Wigwam sock I have worn, blisters have not been a concern and with the few I have gotten, the conditions just softened my feet and made them susceptible. Yet, unlike my mom’s saying, I did not suffer and still looked pretty (good).

Certain factors that appear before us and later put together can some times make for an interesting story or comparison.

The weekend before my daily visit with mom, I was in St. Louis for USA Track and Field’s annual meeting. Prior to the meeting I had free time and met with Bob Keppel, a high school classmate living in the area. Then following the meeting my nephew Kevin Pirrung from O’Fallon, just outside of the city, picked me up and took me to visit with his family.

On the way to the Interstate 70 on ramp, I saw 2 runners approaching, recognized one and told Kevin to get in the next lane. Too late, he hit a huge puddle and it drenched the runners on the sidewalk, as they tried to avoid the splash.

When I look back and put the German translation and the Wigwam slogan together, I knew it was very difficult for these two unsuspecting runners to look pretty, feel comfortable and I’m sure they suffered a bit, with the water that doused them, in the cold temperatures that day.

The runner I recognized was installed in USA Track and Field’s National Hall of Fame the night before and gave an eloquent and inspirational acceptance speech. He actually had been elected the year prior, but deferred his induction a year, because he lived only 25 miles away from this year’s event and it would allow more of his family to attend.

Craig Virgin, from Lebanon, IL, had his story told through a video presentation, prior to his turn at the lectern. We learned of a farm boy, suffering from a genetic urological disorder, on antibiotics for nearly 6-years to keep him alive, and how he became, in his own words, “A white Kenyan” winning back-to-back cross-country World Championships, three-time Olympic Games qualifier, 1976 NCAA CC Champion and more.

I had never seen Craig, even when he was performing, look anything more than the All-American he was. Somehow, seeing him drenched, made me realize it isn’t about looking good or feeling good, it is all about being good. Whether you are, or it is, does not make a difference, as sometimes it just isn’t pretty.

Accomplishing what we set out to do, is what we should all strive and whatever else is associated with that, can only be judged by others. Look pretty, suffer, but accomplish.

Thanks mom!

See you in a few miles….roy

Each Thanksgiving season I tangle with the holiday traditions and running on the roads and trails around my hometown.

With so many communities offering versions of Turkey Trots, it is difficult not to participate in the fun.

In the middle of October I finished what I considered to be the last of my competitive races for the year, but still maintained thoughts of running on the trails in my area and maintaining my fitness level.

With the lure of these community-based events, I am lured once again into competing, or at least participating.

Following my 4^th national championship of the year, a 50-mile road race near Boalsburg, PA, just a mile from State College where attention has been drawn to Penn State, I decided to enter one of the “Trots”, a 4-mile course in Institute, WI.

It was many years ago that one of the organizers, who taught at the elementary school, invited me to join their event, offered me a comp entry and provided me with a hotel stay the night before. Hard not to take someone up on such a nice offer, so I accepted.

I asked what I could do in return and offered to speak at the spaghetti feed the evening before, present the awards or announce the winners. I was told they just wanted me to be there, nothing more was required.

I signed up for the 2-mile that year, as usual, by the time November shows up on the calendar, my race calendar is already completed and I don’t care to add any more dates to it.

It was the shortest race I had done in years, as usually I opt for the longest of the events offered.

Let me tell you, it seemed like an eternity running, those two country miles on the roads. One forgets how to run fast when one does not run fast for many years. Painfully slow, I completed the run, took second in my age group and felt embarrassed with my time and the guy who beat me, who was a friend and never beaten me before.

One thing I did learn was how much fun it is to run the shorter distances, for a change. Year-after-year of running the majority of my races at the marathon and ultramarathon distances seems to make the end of the year start to drag.

After thinking about it, I really should not be embarrassed to run in any event I choose, if I choose to run in them for the right reason. Running in the “Trots” has been fun and no matter what event you participate, just do it for the right reasons, your reasons. I went back and took 1^st this year and won a turkey too.

In Pennsylvania’s Happy Valley, I wore my Compressor’s by Wigwam, but because it was freezing at the start put on a light liner sock over them to keep my feet warm. I also knew it would be getting warmer, so I wore my Wind Sleeves under a long sleeve top and singlet. Eventually the top was shed and the sleeves kept my arms warm until I hit the sunny section and pushed them down around my wrists.

The hills on Tussey Mountain are known to wear you down. With 5,000 feet of elevation climb your legs are pretty worn out by the time the final 3-mile descent to the finish takes place. Luckily, my legs felt great and I was able to pass a few on “the way down”. I know, without taking the necessary measures prior to the race with appropriate clothing choices that would not have been the case.

Managing to run 8:49:02 and placing first, meant earning my 68^th national title, as the Tussey mOUTaiNBACK served as the host of the USA 50-mile road championships.

Part of the thing I like most about the race is that it is run through Rothrock State Park and it feels like a trail run, more than a road race. The long climbs and descents, are tempered by the trees shedding their colored leaves, making the journey through the woods much more enjoyable and never feeling like the run would be endless.

As I move into December, where I have no races planned, I look forward to perhaps getting on snowshoes and trying out some of my Wigwam winter gear. I won’t have to worry about speed, just comfort! What better reason to get out there?

When I entered my 25^th Milwaukee (Wisconsin) Lakefront Marathon, I had visions of training hard and racing the guys in my age group for a win. Over the years, I had taken my share of age group awards away from the lakefront and thought it would be nice to take home, not only a finisher’s medal, and a second one to make it special.

Two days after submitting my entry application, I received an email suggesting I join a group of runners in support of Jenny Crain’s continuing physical therapy.

Jenny and I go back some time. She was an outstanding collegian runner when I first met her at a Milwaukee race. She was full of vigor and enthusiasm and always mindful of her “duties”, as an emerging elite athlete. She always made time to talk to those with questions, looking for advice, or just wanting to talk running.

Together we served on the Athlete’s Advisory Committee for USA Track and Field. USATF requires 20 percent of all its committees to be composed of athletes and the AAC requirements are more stringent. To serve, one must have competed on an international team or placed high in a national championship. Jenny met both of those requirements.

Then one day, in August of 2007, as she was finishing up her training run along the lakefront, where the marathon we would run for her finishes, she was hit by a motorist who fled the scene, resulting in brain trauma, paralysis and coma. She was gearing up for the Olympic Marathon Trials, then, suddenly she was an invalid. Read her story at http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-243-297--13329-0,00.html.

Jenny’s battle cry was “make it happen”. She meant, don’t just sit there, do something to get the results you are looking for. A fund was set up to help with the enormity of medical expenses and her expression to make it happen became the Make It Happen Fund.

Her friends with the local running club, the Badgerland Striders, took note and began hosting an array of fund raising events. Jenny’s friends knew what she would have done for them and they in turn supported every effort and event to help raise those much-needed funds.

Over the next several years, she showed marked improvement, not only as a result of the monetary help, but some of her friends donated their time as professional therapists and worked diligently to give her every chance to recover. She eventually regained some of her speech and mobility.

Of all the fundraisers, this one would set the standard. A goal was set at $75,000, the cost of one year of therapy. The event would be an unforgettable one. At its peak, 85 runners signed up to run the marathon, linked together, each committing to raising a minimum of $500.

I asked Wigwam for their support in this effort and they readily and eagerly came on board as one of the sponsors. Each runner was given a pair of running socks to get them started and to get them to the finish line. On race day, they passed out hundreds of their quality running socks to those assembled at the finish line, to watch the Jennipede, as the team became known.

As the weeks drew closer to race day, there were injuries, people moving to other areas and other reasons, so the numbers dwindled to 62. Part of the reason the event was chosen, was to chase a Guinness World Record for most runners linked together to complete a marathon that stood at 53.

Although the record attempt was secondary, to raising the money needed for her continued therapy, it became an integral part of bringing attention to the event and thus raised awareness. Before we knew it, the original goal was broken, reset and broken and reset several more times, bringing in over $100K prior to race morning!

Novice and veterans tethered to a rope, slipped through a carabineer, found their position, printed and signed their name showing their designated position and gallantly approached the back-of-the-pack at the start line on October 2, 2011.

Veterans stated how doubts had entered their thoughts, while first-time marathoners shook, not from the cold, but nervousness. Anyone could be the one to end the race. A misstep, a bad day, muscle cramps all entered the reality and enormity of what was about to take place with the crack of the starter’s pistol.

The first bathroom break took 15 minutes. Not acceptable, I thought. The next time, the gals entered the portable toilets and the guys discreetly provided “urine samples” in cups, which were accidentally spilled on the lawn, before we quickly returned to running.

A couple of sprained ankles, as runners stepped in potholes, a couple of falls as a trailing runner could not see a hazard, and one runner with severe muscle cramps. Any of these could have ended the record attempt, but the team survived and power walked for nearly 10-kilometers (6.2 miles).

At mile 26, the Jennipede received a most unexpected and cheerful welcome, by spectators two-deep on each side, carrying us through the final two-tenths of a mile in the finish chute. Once we all crossed the finish line, we were immediately surrounded by paparazzi, spectators, family members and friends taking photos of the historic accomplishment.

Before removing ourselves from the cord, we once again were required to print and sign a document showing our finishing position, to meet the requirements set by Guinness.

My Maltese friend, Victor Vella of Italy, and I purchased 100 Grand Bars and a race volunteer passed them out as we completed the necessary paperwork.

Robin Gohsman, the team organizer then went from supporting the line from the rear, to center stage as the master of ceremonies. In quick order, two proclamations were read from the Mayor of Milwaukee and the County Executive, proclaiming October 2, 2011 Jenny Crain Day. Then the most important presentation of an oversized check in the amount of $100K was presented to Jenny and her brother Peter Crain. Peter accepted on behalf of his sister and thanked everyone from the bottom of his heart, as one who had also endured the day tethered to a rope.

Lastly and unexpectedly, each person was called up individually, and presented with a commemorative medal to mark the success of the Jennipede. I realized running was more than winning medals, but this one was really special, engraved with our name on it, along with Jenny’s.

If you would like to support Jenny’s future care, please visit: http://www.active.com/donate/jennycrain/roypIrRUNg to donate. Thanks!

Sometimes you are in the right place at the right time. What you do and how you react to developments may define who you are.

Half dozen years ago, when my wife was alive, she purchased a book for me, signed by the author, knowing I liked World War II history and autographed books. The book was about the quest of two divers trying to discover the name of a submarine and how it met its fate.

Over the years, they had to develop better scuba gear to reach the depths unencumbered by suits with an air supply from above. The boat rested in deep water off the shore of New Jersey and had an aura of mystery.

The two were unlikely partners that became one with their goal of identifying the U-boat no one seemed to have a record of its whereabouts.

One of the divers was a salvager the other a purist. One would bring up artifacts and sell them, while the other got his rush from discovering the things he dove for and leaving them the way he found them. Eventually, after lots of investigative work, trying to discover the name of the ship and how it came to be there, both agreed to leave everything intact, once they could put a name on the boat.

The book Shadow Divers was written by Robert Curson, who later would appear at another bookseller, along with the two subjects in his book. I had the opportunity to see and hear them and to learn something more in the process.

Both of these divers were different in many ways, but the one thing they agreed upon, was that their coming together to discover the final resting place of the German sub, was a defining moment for each of them. They learned from each other and they discovered themselves in the process.

Nearly dying to reach an artifact that would give them the final piece to the puzzle they searched for, brought them to a new level of friendship and brotherhood. They both learned that their opposite personalities had certain characteristics that they initially had not seen in one another. Their dislike for each other faded away with the adventure they agreed to take on together.

I too learned from these two gentlemen, John Chatterton and Ritchie Kohler. I learned that I had a defining moment, after searching my memory for such a time in my life. Well, actually, there were a number of defining moments. That too is fine. Having more than one defining moment and realizing when they were helps us understand who we are and what shaped us.

For me, that moment came when I put on a pair of Wigwam socks, laced up a pair of something resembling running shoes and headed out the door with a goal of running 2-miles. I did not reach my first goal of running 2-miles, but

I found the determination to continue, even with the pain associated with a beginner, not knowing how to start a training program and suffering because of it.

The shoes were really not meant for running, they were purchased at a discount store and they caused foot pain. The days of trial and error taught me many things, perseverance being at the top of the list.

Without that one moment, when I saw an overweight lady jogging by my house and something clicked inside my brain and told me it was time to start exercising, I would not be who I am today. I would most likely be an overweight 2-pack-a-day smoker, instead of a world-class ultra runner.

We may not know at the time what our defining moment is, but we must be on the lookout, so that we do not let it slip away from us.

No matter the cost, we must pursue a goal, one that defines not only a moment in our lives, but also the future and who we become.

My latest adventure took me to Ireland. I cannot say, my last run, because it was truly an adventure. Although, it was titled the IAU Trail World Championships, it had very little, what most would consider a trail.

The course consisted of roads, some gravel paths leading to and from the mountains and lots of bogs. In case you don’t know what a bog is, it is, as we were told the day before, “soggy ground.”

In order that no one would sink, too far, while crossing, a designated bog route, marked with small flags, was where we were to run, or risk being lost. Staying near the flags was a necessity, as some would discover.

Most of the USA Trail Team felt that this was not a true trail run and some even said it was not running because so much of the course was impossible to run.

One individual compared it to the Tour de France, with the toughest section ahead being impossible to run. The riders would have to carry their bikes for several miles, thus taking away any advantage the fastest rider might have and destroying the integrity of the competition.

Clearly, not everyone felt the same, as many runners performed well and some actually thrived. Most of those runners also had opportunities to run on rugged terrain in their training and possibly some may have had mountain climbing skills, as well.

Personally, I enjoyed the adventure, but clearly I was not prepared to compete over terrain of this nature. I stayed steady, but it was a steady hike and not a steady run. My feelings swung like a pendulum to ‘what am I doing here’, to ‘this is lots of fun and unlike anything I have ever done’, to ‘I wish this was over, but I know I cannot make the cutoff time to finish.’

Runners who were coming my way on the return trip were saying how crazy this was. One lady coming down said she wasn’t going any further and was headed back down to the aid station to catch a ride back. I wondered what I would find on the other side after I reached the top. I found out all too soon—“soggy ground”.

When I posted on my facebook page that I EARNED my first DNF (Did Not Finish) in an ultra I received condolences and sympathy messages, but the 2 that stuck out were the ones that I remember.

The first was from longtime running friend, Marty Sprengelmeyer of Iowa, who said, “Don’t worry about DNFs. If you have never had one, you have never truly challenged yourself.”

The other from marathon runner Jenny Chaudoir, of Green Bay, WI, who stated, “DNF to me stands for “Did Not Fear”—you didn’t fear to give it a shot.”

I believe I have challenged myself plenty in over a quarter century of ultra running, but obviously, I never did any mountain climbing in the middle of any of them. I will continue to challenge myself, but limit it to running, in the future.

I also believe I have not feared anything I have taken on. At first there might be some apprehension, but once I am at the start that fades into the feeling of ‘Bring it on, I can do this!’ I really enjoy creating challenges and having some doubt whether I can accomplish what I set out to, without that, racing would be rather mundane.

There usually is disappointment when not finishing what one starts out to complete. In this case, when I heard there would not be time to continue, I was accepting and thought, ‘How nice, I don’t have to crawl and climb over that mountain again.’ Three trips across the mountains was enough for me in one day.

I did find out that my trusty Wigwam Compressor socks made a huge difference, especially during the mountain climbs. And through the bogs, they didn’t bog me down. The mud did not stick to them and they never felt soggy—like the ground.

Over the next few days I had time to relax and see the local attractions, one being the mountain I first ran up, with my girlfriend, Chris. Physically and emotionally the race did not defeat me. And afterwards I also heard stories of what some of the others encountered.

My teammate, David James, from Arizona, was following a British runner when suddenly the Brit sunk and immediately Dave after him, up to his chest. He reached the Brit’s waist and shoved him up and out and the Brit then gave him a hand and pulled him out.

Some runners were beat up, one for sure had a broken arm and another thought she might have. Most agreed, it was one of the craziest and toughest events they ever had.

As we flew home a few days later, I told Chris I was thinking of a quote by Theodore Roosevelt that would aptly describe our adventure into the unknown. He said, “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred with dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.”

See you in a few miles….roy

What’s your limit? Have you heard this before? I don’t know what my limit is, but I am testing the boundaries to see what it might be.

Disappointed that we did not gain entry to the Comrades Marathon in South Africa, the world’s largest ultra marathon event, my friend Victor and I decided to create our very own personal challenge.

Patterned after the Goofy Challenge an event at Disney World that has individuals running a 5K, ½ marathon and marathon on 3 successive days, we decided to run 3 ultras in 3 weeks, with the first one on May 21, 202.6K, the next 100K on May 28 and the final leg a 722K run from Turin to Rome starting on June 2 – totaling about 1,050 kms, equivalent to 25 marathons, in 18 days.

Nove Colli, or the 9 hills, pitted us against the environment and topography as the temps were in the low 90 degree range on race day, and started at noon with a controlled start, whereby all runners stayed together the first 20K to negotiate busy traffic out of the city of Cesinatico.

The hills were relentless, with climbs lasting 8 to 9 kilometers and going up as high as 507 meters to an altitude of 787. A couple would not be that difficult, but 9 major climbs, totaling 3,220 meters, took their toll, as did the heat and then the cool mountain air.

At 172-kilometers, my partner was overcome by the sun and needed to sit in the shade of the tent used as an aid station/ristoro. He told me to press on and I did. With 30-K left, it seemed like a sprint from that point.

As the cyclists passed me by, in the accompanying event which had thousands of bicyclists on the same course, racing in packs of 25, crossed the centerline, the oncoming driver was forced to swerve and I had to take evasive action. I dove to the side of the road, in a driveway hitting my left hand on the curbing, jamming my elbow in the process.

When I got up, the bikes were gone, the car was gone and all that remained was the road ahead. I shook it off, wrapped my hand in tissue and grabbed my water bottle in that hand to stop the bleeding. I pressed on and the anger pumped through my blood and I picked off 20 runners in the next 20-K and finished in 28:29:30 in 28^th place overall and 1^st in my category.

Victor came in an hour later. We were both pleased it went as well as it had. Our roommate also finished just under 29 ½ hours, so we were 3 for 3 on a tough day, where many did not finish. 50 arrived within the 30 hours limit out of 113 started.

After the race we evaluated what we had done right and what we could have done better. I was pleased with the support I had gotten from my Wigwam compressor socks and the knowledge that the arm warmers could be used effectively to adjust my body’s heat. Our feet were in great shape and our combination of walking and running left our legs feeling fresh rather than beat up.

During the week in between we headed for the sea at Santa Marinella, about an hour north of Rome, swam and soaked in the water. We then went to Civitavecchia and soaked in the soothing, hot mineral Roman baths at Ficoncella. A visit to Victor’s regular massage therapist, Andrea topped our rest and recovery week.

The del Passatore served as the 100K World Championships years ago and I was going to go, but my wife was not comfortable with it and I did not go. This was my chance to finally run the course over the mountain pass between Florence (Firenze) and Faenza.

Starting on a busy shopping street, the famous Via dei Calzolai, in the heart of Florence, nearly 1600 runners passed the Duomo, the beautiful cathedral and headed for the mountain about 5-kilometers away. The climb started after just 2-kilometers and did not end until 48, with a total elevation gain of about 1,200 meters at 913 meters above sea level, when the downhill started.

Victor and I joined up with a runner from Napoli (Naples) by the name of Angelo. It was his first ultra and he confided he did not know what he was doing and just wanted to finish. He mentioned he had been at the Nove Colli as a rider the previous week.

Again, we practiced what we had learned the week before and steadily made it to the top. Once there we searched for our drop bags and discovered they did not arrive. So, we had no warm clothes or lights for the journey down the mountain pass. Victor was adamant that we were cold and needed warm clothing and they came up with a t-shirt for me and what appeared to be a tablecloth with a hole cut into it, nothing like the nice CW-X clothing I was expecting.

We took what they gave us and eventually Angelo’s support vehicle pulled alongside and he gave us some long sleeve t-shirts and gloves. We were now outfitted to run comfortably, but only Angelo had a light.

The final 10K was well lit and we told Angelo to go ahead as we were going to walk it in to start our recovery for the next race just 5 days away. It was a wise decision, letting the heart rate come down and giving us the ability to get right to sleep after a warm shower. We finished together in 13:57:57.

The next few days we just rested and had a massage, running around was not an option, although the sea and the baths were inviting.

The race from Turin to Rome was a celebration of the unification of the 12 provinces of Italy under a common flag, 150 years ago. We started at Turin’s Piazza Castello, the ancient capital and would run to Piazza del Popolo in Rome, the new capital in less than 7 days 10 hours.

Using what we had garnered in the 2 previous races paid dividends as many of the runners went out too fast and faded just as fast. The 17 starters were cut in half in the first 2 days of 90-degree temperatures. We moved up from the last runners to the front by day 3, running in 2^nd and 3^rd on day 3.

Victor developed shin splints and was slowing us both down. He felt it was best that I run ahead and he would deal with his problem on his own. I charged to the front, only Antonio Tallarita, a friend of mine from Reggio Emilia, Italy, who works for Lombardini, a company purchased by the company I worked for 36-years, Kohler of Kohler, WI. At that point he was out of reach and that is where I wanted to be too, out of reach of those in pursuit.

On day 5 I took and extra hour of sleep, getting 3 hours and then pushed straight to the finish in a time of 6 days 18 hours and 12 minutes. Antonio had finished in 6 days and 3 hours, fully supported by an accompanying camper with driver, doctor and massage therapist. I went solo and was not given much support, so was at a clear disadvantage. Victor arrived about 12 hours later, proud, like me, to have finished, with minimum assistance, and taking in stride whatever difficulties we had to face. His was the first adventure beyond the 200k, which came only weeks earlier.

When it comes to spring, fans of the national pastime, major league baseball, are anxious to shake off the dust on the gloves, clean off the cleats and break out the bats. They can’t wait to hear the call of the umpire to “Play ball!”

For runners the right of spring means marathon season, and for many, stepping on the start line in Hopkinton, MA to run the B.A.A. Boston Marathon. Steeped in tradition, “Boston” is the oldest, continuously run marathon in the world. Patterned after the original, modern-day Olympic Marathon of 1896, in Athens, the revival of the Games held for centuries in Greece.

In 1897, the Boston Athletic Association used the same theme, the celebration of a messenger doing his duty, when creating their event. Pheidippides ran between Athens and Sparta and back, then to the plains of Marathon and back, to first, request the aid of the Spartans and then announce the Athenians’ victory over the invading Persians, before dying.

The messenger chosen to celebrate his feat, during the Boston Marathon, was Paul Revere, to honor his midnight ride to warn the British were coming. Thus, the race is set on Patriot’s Day, a state holiday in Massachusetts.

My first-time running the Boston Marathon, in 1984, meant a commitment to training, running faster and reaching goals. I needed to run 2 hours 50 minutes or less. I ran a 2:49:12 and then lowered it to 2:38:47 at Milwaukee’s Lakefront Marathon, before going. I finished in 2:44:16, that year, among the top 900 and was one of my state’s top finishers.

It was a nasty day and I learned what a nor’easter was! Wet shoes and socks are not the way to start any race, but I got through it wearing my Wigwam marathon socks, heading into the wind the entire way, with cold rain biting my nose and cheeks.

Still requiring a Boston Qualifier (BQ), means a runner must meet a standard set by the B.A.A. These standards (www.baa.org) are for open runners, meaning those under age 40 and then in 5-year age groups, by gender. In 2011 these standards were tightened, making it more difficult to qualify and the 59 seconds considered a grace minute, was eliminated.

In 2007, I began my current streak of 5 official Boston’s and one unofficial, which I ran with Dave McGillivray the race director following my 2010 finish, which was his 38^th consecutive finish. I started going back yearly, in memory of my wife and have found each time to be as rewarding as the year’s before.

This year was no different. I was asked by Wigwam to be part of their raffle drawing and draw the winner’s name from those race participants who purchased 3 pair of socks. I chose Don Langdon of Barstow, GA and he took home a gift basket of Wigwam products and gift certificates, including one from www.ShoeBuy.com who partnered with Wigwam at this year’s expo. Two interns from Northeastern University, Kelsey and Kayla, helped manufacturer’s representative, Mary Gustafson, sell 515 pairs of socks and give away another 179 pair. There were 125 marathon entrants who took advantage of the buy 3 and get one free offer and received entry in the drawing.

When I presented the gift basket to Don, I commented on his sweatshirt with the Paavo Nurmi Marathon logo on it. The oldest marathon in Wisconsin, it is one of my favorites. Apparently, Don felt the same, as he was a multiple time finisher on Hurley’s Silver Street. This year I will go for my 19^th finish there. He asked how I had done last year, when he ran it and I told him I was first in my age group. He said he was 4^th and then asked which group I was in and when I told him 60-64, he said I bumped him out of a medal position. I told him today you are a winner. Anyone wearing Wigwam socks is a winner!

With experiences such as these, I will keep returning to Boston and, hopefully, to the Wigwam expo booth, to be part of a tradition and to create another Wigwam tradition.

See you in a few miles….roy

In 1989, I received an invitation to participate in a race commemorating Phiedippides' run from Athens to Sparta, Greece. Known as Spartathlon, it covers approximately 250-kilometers. The race name was created for the connection among Sparta, Athens and London.

British military officers studied the route described by the Greek historian Herodotus, to confirm its accuracy. They ran between the two former city states, according to his account, in under 36 hours, to see if the account they had read was possible. The following year, they created a running event to honor Phiedippides.

Eventually, I would race in the event 4 times. I placed 4th and had a dog join me at Acro Corinth and stay with me for over 40-kilometers the first year. I also slipped on the wet marble as I approached the statue of King Leonidas and slid into its base. The mayor came over and was going to help me up, but I screamed at him to leave me alone. Finally, he understood that by helping me up I would have been disqualified and left me get up, under my own power and touch the toe of the King. In 1990, I raced Finnish runner Seppo Leinonen for 6th in an epic battle, but one that left me feeling uneasy, because I thought I should just have run it in with him, as the top 3 places were already decided.

In 1992, I was forced off the road prior to reaching Acro Corinth by an oncoming truck and I smashed my toes into a rock. At about 100-kilometers, Seppo came up behind me and asked me to run to Sparta with him. With my toes bleeding, I gladly accepted his request. At that point we were 7th and 8th in the standings. But together we moved up and reached 3rd place and finished in a tie, with his son at his side and Alex Clainos (the son of George, the security director for the race) at my side.

In my 4th appearance, once again I placed 4th. That night at the awards ceremony in Sparta, Seppo came over to me and told me I had finished in the WORST possible place again, meaning just outside of the top 3.

While attending the Boston Marathon Expo in 2009, I met Dimitri Kyriakides, whose father had won Boston in 1946, the 50^th running. He asked me if I had ever run in Greece and I told him of my experiences at Spartathlon. He was impressed and asked me to come to the 2010 of the Athens Classic Marathon. I told him I would come to the 2009 version and run my 100^th career marathon and I did. We met each other at a ceremony in Boston two nights before the 2010 Boston Marathon.

When we do something, we never consider that it might become part of history. It may be a personal history, a family history, corporate history or part of a longstanding history.

By running in Greece, I became part of what some might consider a piece of ancient history. Yet when I ran in Greece’s Spartathlon, the thoughts I had, were only for the moment and I never assumed anything more would become of my participation.

Athletes live in the moment, it is sometimes called being in the zone or being focused. The performance is everything, if it is a great performance, then it may become part of the athlete’s history, sometimes called a personal best or personal record, or a PB or PR.

Those moments are cherished by athletes, but only until the PR or PB is broken and another set. However, those performances can become part of history if a record is set, a title is earned or something special happens.

Special moments can also be called defining moments. If a person does a thing that is life changing or what they do contributes to something special, they are indeed defining.

We have to look back at our personal history and put it under the microscope to get any sense of how it fits into others’ history. And it does become part of others’ history, whether we feel it does or not.

My defining moment was the day I started to run, for my health, then another when I decided to pin a bib number on and run in a race. As things progressed, other defining moments happened, I placed in my age group, then first in my age group, I placed first overall, I won a national title and I broke an American record and eventually, an age group world record and world title.

Those accomplishments garnered attention by area companies and eventually sponsorship. One of the first, Wigwam, offered me athletic sponsorship, but in return I offered them product testing and consulting. It became part of OUR history as athlete and athletic supplier. Helping develop a high performance sock starts out with the tester and developer, but ultimately ends up on average athletes and super stars feet and their history and all it entails.

One such athlete was Paula Newby-Fraser, a hall of famer at Hawaii’s Ironman, plus many other Ironman races throughout the world. Wearing Wigwam’s high performance socks enhanced her performances and enabled her to reach the pinnacle in her chosen sport.

Before I competed in my first Hawaii Ironman Triathlon World Championship, Paula instilled confidence in me, by telling me I had the advantage over others who were not runners, as the final leg was the one that I would look forward to, while others would dread it. Her advice was well taken and I looked forward to running to the finish.

My first international race was a defining moment for me, because it started an international running career and allowed me to run with some of the best runners in running history. This led me to return to Greece and eventually run Spartathlon, four times and the Athens Classic Marathon twice.

The performances and experiences I gathered internationally are some of the most memorable and some might say, historical.

In that light, I was asked by the LOC (Local Organizing Committee) of the Athens Classic Marathon to write of some of my experiences in Greece, to be included in a time capsule to be opened during the 2600^th anniversary celebration of the Battle of Marathon and Pheidippides’ legendary run.

Because everyone who is reading this will be absent when the time capsule is broken open, I will share with you, next month, what I wrote for inclusion in the time capsule.

The final two months of 2010 included less running than any other time since I first began running, in 1980. Taking a break is sometimes very difficult for a runner, especially a competitive one. Difficult, because most people feel runners are addicted to running. Many are, but that does not mean everyone fits in that shoe.

I have always professed that if you are a serious runner, you will do whatever is necessary to return to running. That includes taking time off to heal up an injury or an accumulation of injuries. In some cases, just stopping is the best thing for an individual.

Time heals all wounds, is often thought of when on a sabbatical from, not only the physical stresses, but the mental ones, as well.

Pounding the pavement or hitting the trails, day after day, can in itself cause the body to break down. Little by little, the physical stressors take their toll. Most do not consider the mental side of running when taking a break.

Sticking to a plan, no matter what, can be very stressful. You may fret over missed mileage, goose eggs in your running log where big numbers once appeared and fear of losing your fitness level.

During the 100K Road World Championships, held in Gibraltar in November of 2010, I reached a point where it was evident that it was time to take a break. I did not wait to finish the 100-kilometers that day. I opted to complete a marathon and then take off, “at least 2 months”.

With all of the miles of running I do, I would be the first to admit, that I would think, I would miss my daily routine. However, this was not the case. Mentally, I was ready for a break, but physically I don’t think I had much choice in the matter. The last 5K-loop I did to reach the marathon distance. I could no longer bear weight on my foot. My best effort on that loop was just over 90-minutes.

Having a horse step on my foot was not my idea of a fun way to spend the day before running the Reykjavik Marathon. Yet, I am glad I experienced the ride into the mountains and the soak in the hot streams, provided by the hot springs that dot Iceland.

I first noticed the effect of that incident the next day, at the 20-mile mark, when I got twinges of pain in my foot. Having my trusty compressor socks on did enable me to manage the pain and finish the race. Surprisingly, I took a 3^rd in my age category and walked away from the finish line in reasonably good condition.

I took the next week off and traveled to Dublin for 4 days of sight-seeing, before heading to Galway to run the World Trophy 50K the week following the horse incident.

Again, near mile twenty, the foot sent a message that all things were not well. I struggled to finish, but did accomplish that, at least. Again, I took some more time off.

I began to train again and started the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, knowing I was not totally fit—or healthy. Within the first 2 blocks I thought I should head back to the start and call it a day. Then I thought, get in a mile at least, then another and another and before I knew it, I had forgotten about going back and quitting. It was my 24^th time at that race and I guess it just was completed on memory-miles.

Just into the Athens Classic marathon a few weeks later, someone nudged me off the road, accidentally, and I twisted the same foot the Icelandic had stepped on. Again, I finished the race and was grateful I had made it to the finish line, of the 2500^th anniversary of the Battle of Marathon celebration. A week later I was in Gibraltar.

The night before the 100K race I had my doubts about starting, but felt I should give it a try. It never hurts to try—well it does if you are already hurt. Again, the further I ran the more it hurt.

Being away from something you love to do is sometimes very difficult, but the feeling of starting again really wipes out those times you wanted to run and did not, simply because it was the best thing to do.

My first run back took place on January 8, 2010 on the trails of the Bandera 100K course in Bandera, TX. I was their to support the athletes in the USATF Trail National Championships and while they were out, decided to lace up the shoes, run and walk, for about 30-minutes.

As I headed down the flat, dirt road, someone called to me to wait while he changed clothes, so he could give me a tour. I got back to where we started the run in 2 hours, 51 minutes and 40 seconds.

I was not only glad to have felt so good during the run, but really happy I had put on the Wigwam Compressor socks, because they protected me from the sotol plants, which are a member of the agave family, similar in structure to the yucca plants, and very sharp.

Mentally, I also feel ready to go and get back into my Wigwam socks and racing. I learned that it is best to stop what you love doing, take the time to heal, both physically and mentally and then be ready to go again.